#1 i always felt out of place in but something in a project was so upsetting that it set me back like years in my performance fright and now

[transannabeth]

-

[c0n-fus3d]

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚢.

(Older!Powder x fem!reader)

I'm sorry but I finished ep 1 of act 3 and had to write this to get my emotions out about ekko and powder being a thing in an alternative reality bcz just RAHHHFHSHEHSHHS my gay ass is crying (no offense to the timebomb shippers, you do you!! If you like this that's cool💪💪) ENGLISH ISN'T MY NATIVE LANGUAGE, IF I MADE SOME SPELLING MISTAKES I'M SORRY ALSO SPOILERS FOR ACT 3!!

Warnings: uhhh just angst, mostly angst, this is for my girlies who might be feeling the same

༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻

You've always liked Powder, every since you were kids, and still when you are teenagers.

Their was always something about her. The way she made the most creative inventions, the way she always seemed to have some sort of spark in her eyes. Her laugh, her hair, her eyes, it's hard for you to explain the feelings you have towards her.

You knew the way Vi's death was heavy on her, you could see that with the days, and soon years that came after. You we're always trying to be there to support her, make her feel a little better. You gave her space when she needed it, and we're there for her when she needed you the most.

And then there was Ekko.

You never hated Ekko, you 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 hate Ekko. he was a good guy, you got along with him. He was around Powder nearly just as much as you we're, maybe even a little more. When you were around Powder, he wouldn't take long to show up as well. You didn't mind.

But you couldn't deny that you we're jealous of him, of Ekko. The way he charmed his way into Powder's heart over the years. With his sketches, ideas, personality, kindness and understanding. You wanted what him and Powder had as if what you already had wasn't enough for you. You could see the way she looked at him, how 𝙝𝙚 looked at her the same way.

You often wished it was you instead of him. You try to forget about your jealousy, push it asside. You try to push your jealousy and selfishness asside, keep everything natural between you three. But it got harder and harder the more time went on.

Ekko has been acting strange recently, or at least that's what Powder told you. How he 'seems not to remember anything' and how he says these things about how in a dream her and Vi we're completely different. You noticed yourself too, how he was more around then usual. You assumed it was because of his project or whatever.

Now you find yourself here, on the dance floor in the last drop. Inventions around you everywhere as music and colorful lights fill the bar. You look into the crowd, trying to spot Powder. It took you a whole 5 minutes to finally spot her, but to no suprise, Ekko was there. On the dance floor, with her. Dancing together to the beat of the music like it was just the two of them. You tried to move your eyes away from the sight, let them be happy and together. But the jealousy ate you from the inside out, this all just left a bitter taste on your tongue. It all got so overwhelming so quickly, so you decide to leave the place before you explode and do something stupid.

So you decide to go out to Powder's little Hideout for now and go back once you've cooled down. You look at the massive invention across the room, stunned as fuck how they made this. You don't want to pay too much attention to it though, so you continue walking through the massive space before sitting down in front of the small memorial that Powder made for Vi.

You lighten the place up before just.. Sitting there. You sigh, looking at the picture sat on the desk. Vi always knew you had a thing for Powder, she always encouraged you to tell her how you felt. Whenever the situation was on your mind, you'd go here. You'd talk, like she was still there. Because to you, she was. To everyone, she still was. Now wasn't any different, you talked about what has been going on recently. With Ekko, Powder, and everything else.

"I just.. Don't know what to do, I know I'm supposed to be happy for them.. Ekko is a great guy, a-and if they become a thing, I'll be fine with it but.. Theirs this voice in the back of my mind that just doesn't seem to go away.." You groan, your head in your hands as you thought for a moment.

You knew you couldn't hide your feelings forever. If Powder wasn't going to feel the same way towards you, you might as well tell her what you've been feeling all this time. Just for an answer, a yes or a no. Anything. If she didn't feel anything as well then at least she'd know.

"I'll tell her, tonight. Like you always wanted me to do.. I'll.. I'll get this over with, okay? For you."

You found yourself walking back towards the last drop, but then you see Powder, going in the direction of what you knew to be the place where Vi always took her to. So you decided to follow.

If only you weren't blind enough to see Ekko walking along with her.

You climbed up to the place, heart racing in your chest as you tried to think about the things you could say. Your mind was running a million miles and you tried desperately to calm your nerves.

You we're finally gonna do it, you we're gonna tell her how you feel.

But just as you nearly reach the top, you see her. And Ekko.

Their kissing.

In front of your eyes.

Your heart dropped, hope that you knew was useless in the end shattered as you saw the image.

Wrong fucking timing. You stood there, frozen in time before quickly getting out of there. Trying to hold back the tears that we're threatening to fall.

She likes Ekko. She only likes Ekko. It was never you. Not in childhood, not in teenage years.

She likes a boy. That boy.

Your not that boy, and for now, you had to live with that.

You we're never going to being the one kissing her. It was always going to be him in the end.

[blackmoonoracle]

PICK A CARD - MASCULINE WOUNDS

You can find my brief breakdown of masculine energy in the natal chart here. Tip Jar

PILE 1

tw: sexual trauma

Anger and sex drive, the people in this particular collective may have experienced sexual trauma at any point in time that has developed into an issue with emotional security. In order to heal you need to learn how to develop trust in your perception, self expression, decision making, and any chronic pain or issues need to be given more thought and care. Not accepting the bare minimum, not pushing yourself for the sake of others, not letting others take your power.

Taking your power back for the sake of yourself.

This is an energy of being conscious of chronic issues, extreme trauma, healing from extreme abuse and allowing yourself to let go of the cycle of releasing your power in order to survive. You are not helpless, you are not incapable, you are not weak, you are not bad, you are not a waste of space, energy, words, time, effort, or love. You are a worthy being, you have earned your place, your reputation, your successes, and your desired future. You have suffered a lot, in some way shape or form.

This could've been mental or sexual anguish in pre teen years.

Feeling almost disgusting or gross for existing as a sexual being. Disdain for sex, astonishment I heard as well? I feel like there is potential religious trauma regarding sex in this pile.

There may also be a sense of pain or confusion about life in general, perhaps you are someone who struggles with feeling destined for failure. Like part of you still doesn't believe that you're not destined to suffer, you've learned so much and I feel like a lot of you are like older gen z or late teens.

It feels like you've always felt very judged, and very misinterpreted. Like others could've been offended by your mere presence. Something about the way you thought, or spoke, or expressed yourself was or is very upsetting for people. You're not afraid to talk about the truth? Is the exact way I'm hearing it be described.

You have very powerful voice, and your words pack a punch in more than one way.

Your words project veryyy quickly into your reality, and I heard "reaffirming reality" as well, treating your brain like a science project I heard? LMAO it's giving aquarius 😭

So do mirror affirmations, some of you could have an affinity towards mirror magick. That being said handle that carefully, and know to be careful in approaching that. Make sure you're researching and covering your bases. I heard Aphrodite, so Aphrodite could be trying to work with someone. I also heard keep your peace, so chill out, don't engage with anyone. You're in the process of taking back your power so sometimes people act up. LITERALLY not a you problem, and if they make it a you problem stand your goddamn ground and show that person, no matter who they are, what role they play in your life, that you are under no circumstances going to continue to take their shit. The universe is testing you, lock tf in and don't worry about anyone else. Worry about YOU and YOUR DREAMS, and YOUR DESIRES. Plant the seeds that truly matter to YOU, you won't know if it works until you try it. Don't be afraid to do what you're passionate about. Don't be afraid to be yourself, your authenticity really resonates with others in some way shape or form. It's how you connect with people, you show them that being yourself is a lot less painful that you'd think.

This could be black Moon Lilith in cancer and Scorpio or 4th and 8th house Chiron energy. you could be a cancer rising, some of you could have a leo descendant? I heard polish and German as well for some others, someone could be polish another person could be German. If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

PILE 2

Self Worth, and Value/Honorary Systems This collective has very powerful values. This could be Taurean, or Aquarian energy, possibly also Aries. You could be mars dominant or have a prominent mars in your natal chart. Your mars may also be in the 11th, or 2nd house! Or you could have Uranus in the 2nd house or Venus in the 11th house. Suffice to say this could also be mars in Taurus, or Aquarius as well. 2nd house Venus, or 11th house aquarius. There's something with individualism in this pile as well. A lot of deeply practical energy, possibly very venusian as well. Could have Venus in pisces, or Venus-neptune interactions in the natal chart. You could have Venus in Taurus, or you could have Venus in aries I'm hearing. You are going on a deep journey of transforming your masculine will. Understanding you are worthy of making your creations, that what you create is valuable and is of quality. You are worthy of abundance, you are worthy of success. I feel like there could've been a sense of detachment since a very young age for this pile. It feels like affection could've always been a touchy subject. I'm also seeing a connection to religion here, especially with Venus being in Virgo. Virgo Venus has always reminded me of catholicism due to the very intricate and detail oriented nature of Catholic symbolism. As well as the emphasis on purity, which is an aspect of Virgo. Seeing as it is the virgin. This can also look like your love always coming with deep criticism. Perhaps you could've felt like the ways in which you expressed love were not respected. Or you could've felt like there was a feminine presence that seemed to bring you a great sense of regret. It feels like a self criticism wound. It feels like a disconnection from the mind in order to attain purity. Like, this pile could feel that they need to fully embody some aspect of a pure, or virginesque energy in order to be worthy of recognition?

Soooo specific, but hey! if it resonates it resonates. There's a deep wound here in regard to knowing how to accept help. It's like accepting help in your mind makes you feel like you're worthless, or as if you are not contributing enough. It's like you feel the need to contribute the most, so that others know you are serious and worth taking serious. Being undermined, minimized, having your values be overlooked, or being seen as unremarkable could've been something you struggled deeply with. I see a lot of pain dealing with women here. Significant Mother wounds that could've led to these wounds in your masculinity. Perhaps experiencing silencing, being forced to not do, say, act, or be in some way shape or form because it is "unsightly" or "shameful" Being disregarded, possibly some bullying here, feeling like an outsider. Like no one could grasp your values, your morals, who you TRULY are.

Almost feeling like you lack an identity.

finding balance in yourself, learning how to accept that you are worthy of being helped. That being helped does not make you unworthy, that being helped is something that is okay, that accepting care, and nurturing, and love is a good thing. starving yourself of intimacy in hopes that by taking the lashings of yourself, and others, while remaining in this "pure" state of being will finally make you worthy of being seen. vision is a general thing here. You may feel like your vision doesn't come to light, or that others don't understand your vision. It's unique, it's you, it's not what everyone else might expect of you. You're groundbreaking, no one could ever be you, learning how to be in love with your individuality. Accepting what makes you weird, and accepting yourself in spite of the way others feel. Knowing that accepting yourself is the deepest form of self connection and that you deserve to feel loved and supported.

Accepting that the embodiment of authenticity may cause issues in connections with people who cannot accept themselves or live in their own truth.

Understanding that you can find purity in your search for your authentic self, authentic truth, and your life purpose. Through embodying yourself in your truth.

If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

PILE 3

You may feel stuck in what you were once defined as, as if other people's perceptions of you cut extremely deeply. Your honor is important to you, you like for things to run smoothly. It's important to you to feel secure in who you are and how you express yourself.

I think that, it would be significantly healthy for this pile to learn what makes them feel passionate.

Maybe you feel that you are judged harshly, or in response to a harsh judgmental world you disconnect from yourself. Extreme self consciousness, fear of being "naked" or "vulnerable". Fear of connecting with yourself and others. Fear of relying on or connecting with your community. Feeling like an outcast, impostor syndrome. Lack of self awareness, TOO much self awareness. Untraceable, or difficult to uncover pain. Not understanding the root of things. Beauty that feels skin deep, unrealized depth, and unfulfilled potential. Learning who you are, finding the drive to connect with yourself. Understanding what it means to be you, and that you have to choose yourself at some point in order to lessen suffering. Fear of risk, and Fear of reward, a very loud self critic.

Accepting and acknowledging the mother wound in order to integrate and heal it. Connecting with earth, trusting nature, allowing yourself to think about the things you fear most. Understanding that you cannot hide from certain truths, and that looking the other way doesn't make it go away. There's a song that went viral on TikTok by MGMT called Little Dark Age. I specifically channeled the part that's like "Forgiving who you are, for what you stand to gain, just know that if you hide- it doesn't go away."

Having to understand that you are not responsible for other people, you are not Jesus, why do you bare the cross. Why do you punish yourself for not meeting the "standards" that others are projecting onto you. Are they standards, or are they control tactics, is it manipulation? Are you in alignment with YOUR thoughts, feelings, and desires? Or are you taking on the thoughts, feelings, desires, and expectations of others who want to strip you of your individuality?

Transforming your self concept, looking at what traits, qualities, and authentic self expressions are ACTUALLY in alignment with your highest good & will call in passion, success, happiness, and stability into your life?

Being proud of your intelligence, your ability to perceive, to be know how to think outside of the box.

Having a lot of eccentric natured personality traits and understanding that those are attractive to others. That what makes you different is what makes you likeable, because it's what's uniquely you. Embodying your truest self form, writing affirmations. Creating lists and notes of the hard to integrate topics and realizations in order to make them more tangible.

Excessive mental energy, very deeply tapped into divine creative expressions. Having blessed thoughts, words, and ways. Knowing that you deserve your blessings, and that you are a generator of luck and karma. That you have to ability to move mountains.

Taking it less personal when people throw rocks from glass homes, knowing that you are worthy of better, worthy of more, worthy of success. Feeding your hunger to succeed, knowing that you have the skill, knowledge, creative drive, and capability to connect with others through your art and creativity.

Uncovering what beauty means to you?

I heard Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo, PIsces, cancer, Gemini, mercury, Sagittarius, 9th house, 6th and 5th house.

Sun in aquarius, Moon in Taurus/Capricorn, Moon in gemini, Moon in Aries, Moon-mars aspects.

Mother Gaia

Disconnected from ancestors and spirit team, but willing to learn and receive.

Looking for a new outlook, looking for a way out, remaining steadfast and faithful in what you believe.

Not allowing others to dictate your thoughts, feelings, or reality.

Co-Creating with divine consciousness.

If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

[fishbonex]

Sharp thoughts 1/2

Mel Medarda x fem!reader

Summary: Your friendship with Mel slowly begins to crumble.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, suggestion of sexual acts.

Word Count: 1K

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Mel was easily the best person you had ever met in your life. She was a spectacle in every way. Having her as your friend was comforting and opened many doors for you as an scientist and researcher.

Life seemed good for you, using a high-tech laboratory, with access to everything a scientist could want and thanks to Mel, contacts with several investors who might be interested in your work.

Unfortunately, Mel Medarda was too much for you.

You didn't notice when your heart started to swell when you thought about her, before you realized it, you could no longer think about her without letting out a sigh. Everything about her was... too much.

The delicate face, the graceful way she moves, the constant tinkling that is present due to her gold jewelry, the voice that seems to embrace you when she speaks to you.

You began to find yourself looking forward to her visits to your lab, or to going to see her in her luxurious quarters. This was why you worked so hard, because you loved your research, and so you had something interesting to show her. A reason to see her.

With that in mind, you stayed late in the lab, finishing a report on your latest research. You were going to show it to Mel and as a councilor, she was supposed to read it and debate whether or not to take your study to the next Council meeting.

Scanning quickly to make sure everything was okay, you stood up with a satisfied sigh. Mel's quarters weren't that far away.

You left the Academy building and walked quickly until you reached the large building where Mel's apartment was. Elora wouldn't be there at this time, and Mel had once said that you were welcome to visit her at any time. You entered the elevator and soon arrived in the lobby of the luxurious apartment. Feeling strange about the silence, you thought about calling her, but stopped when you thought you heard something. A sigh.

A moan.

You turned your head, towards where you knew Mel's suite was. You could have heard wrong, you were almost sure of that when you heard it again.

It was her voice. You were sure of it. Then she moaned again. A name this time. Jayce.

Jayce. Jayce Talis.

Your heart sank and your breath caught for a moment, until you realized you were invading her privacy. You turned and left, trying to do as little noise as possible.

You didn't see Mel for the next few days, not because you were trying to avoid her, but because you were busy working on something for Heimerdinger, and she was also working a lot, apparently.

That's why you were slightly startled when the door to your lab opened and the click of her heels was heard, followed by her melodious voice.

"Working so hard that you didn't have time to come see me?" she asked with a slight laugh in her voice. It irritated you.

"What do you mean?" you tried to focus on the project on your desk.

"I heard about the research you did, and that you gave it to Heimerdinger. Why didn't you bring it to me, like always?" she walked over to you and leaned against the desk.

"He was the first counselor I met when I finished, then." you lied, feeling the bitter taste in your mouth.

"Oh, so that's how it is." she let out a playful chuckle. "I thought we had an alliance."

Her presence felt too close, but you swallowed hard and lifted your face, meeting hers.

"Sorry, I just don't have much time to look for you." you sounded more irritated than you wanted.

Her relaxed expression faltered and she straightened her posture. "Hey, I'm just kidding." she brought one of her manicured hands to your forearm.

"Sorry." you shook your head and looked back at the notes on your desk. "I'm just... really annoyed with work."

"We all are. When you have some free time, why don't you come over to my place? I painted something new, I think you'll like it." she offered softly.

You nearly melted at her offer, the earlier irritation almost forgotten, “Sure, I’d love to.”

So that night you took the path you knew so well. The surprise this time wasn't as unpleasant as the last. Jayce was there again, lying down, his head in Mel's lap. She was comforting him about something. An intimate and tender moment. You turned around and left again.

Well, this time you were avoiding her. Leaving the lab at times when you knew she would visit you, avoiding the council building and staying away from her apartment. Elora even came to you, notifying you that Councilor Medarda wanted to see you, but you politely said that you were very busy.

Your irritation worsened when she appointed him as an advisor. It was at that moment that you knew you would never reach her level, no matter what you did.

Your favorite place to be away from the lab was the fountain in the park, with the purple leaves blowing in the wind. That's where you found yourself at the moment, absentmindedly playing with a pen in your hand, waiting for the time to pass.

"You told Elora you had too much work to take the time to see me." the velvety voice spoke from behind you, slightly irritated. "You don't seem very busy right now."

You turned your face to see her standing there, close to the bench where you were sitting.

"Counselor Medarda." you greeted politely. "Forgive me for the misunderstanding-"

"What joke is this?" she said more irritated than before, her serene face distorting into an angry expression. "What's gotten into you?"

"I have to work, Councilor, I'm afraid I'm not the richest woman in Piltover." you hinted. "I can't afford to lose my sponsorships."

"I work too, and at work I don't have many friends. That's why I value the few friendships I have." she walked up to you. "Like yours."

"Oh, you don't have any friends?" you scoffed. "And bed partners?"

"What?" she took a step back, her expression faltering.

"That's exactly what I witnessed when I went to you to deliver my research, counselor." you replied irritably. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Mel was silent, standing there as you walked back to your lab.

[sweetimpurity]

I Think I'll Keep You 5

a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!

w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“...accurate and efficient methods of decoding… further aiding us in understanding… um… complicated genetic codes… pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh… yeah.” Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He can’t type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So he’s come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. It’s Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.

You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that won’t add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. It’s different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didn’t happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. It’s different talking about the other parts of your life that don’t take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And he’s a good listener when his mind is clear and he’s focused on you. Only you. 

Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal. 

“I think it sounds good… it’s a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up later…” You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didn’t have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he can’t really do it himself right now.

“I don’t know… feels like I’m missing something. I’m gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. He’s applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And he’d basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair. 

“You okay?” You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Don’t lie. “Yeah I’m fine… just… want to get this right.” 

You nod. Knowing that’s not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. “Well, maybe you should include some of your… personality…traits…” You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you. 

“Like what. I mean… Tyler knows me. He’s the one that told me to apply.” [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesn’t like wearing them at all. But he’s worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now.  

“Yeah but he’s not the only one who’s gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are… know the kind of person you are. More often than not, that’s more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, you’re not just applying for a grant, you’re applying for a job…” You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows what’s going on in your head. Or maybe that’s just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasn’t so much as kissed you since everything went down. It’s only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and he’s getting a second chance. He won’t take your forgiveness for granted. “Yeah, you’re right.” He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.

“Maybe talk about family… inspirations… personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourself…” You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. “Uh…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesn’t really want to talk about his family. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parents’ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you don’t even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you don’t notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself.

“I guess… we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But that’s more… financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now… I’ve watched them build it into what it is today.” He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You don’t know why. Mostly because he’s never spoken about this before. But if he’s applying for such a big opportunity then it’s important to include.

“OLI, I’ve heard of that, I think…” You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know you’ve heard that acronym before, or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere? 

“O’hara Legacy Investments.” He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though he’s confident his connections will get him in. There’s always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires. 

“Is that the… that tall building downtown?” You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as he’s looking down at the research notes. “Your family runs that?”

“Yep.” He sighs, not offering more information so you don’t ask for more.

“Okay sooo… how would that influence your work at Alchemax?” You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell he’s losing steam, you’ve been at this a while. 

“So I guess it’s not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but… Watching how that runs… how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goal…” He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. “So.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leader…” 

“Yeah. I think so… and soccer, we could include that too.” He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. “Yeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If you’re a leader… organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.” You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. “And to know you can work in a team…” 

Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that you’re able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. It’s due next week and without you he’d be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now he’s spending more time with you because of that. “I think also…” 

He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. “I’m an older brother too… that’s… I don’t know…” He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. “I feel like… maybe being a leader in that way is different.” 

“It’s very different, yes…” You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. “Maybe something about… protecting… looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guess…” He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I haven’t been a very good role model as of late. 

“Loyalty… role model…” You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes you’re making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.

“I also think you’re very passionate…” You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. “I think I’m just generally angry… I don’t really think before I do things…” He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. “Yeah but we don’t have to include that… passion works…” 

He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. It’s quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all that’s happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion you’re talking about? That he loses control and can’t get it back until it’s almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit. 

All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. That’s a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think he’s loyal, he’ll be loyal as a dog. If you think he’s passionate, he’ll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think he’s anything, he’ll be that. If you want him to be. 

He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive “mine” you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe you’ll be his or he’ll be yours again. He’ll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters won’t fall off, making sure they’re stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair. 

“Anything else for today? We did a lot…” You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. “No, I think that’s good, thank you… but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?” He asks hopefully. “Yeah definitely, I’ll block out some time for you…” 

He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag. 

“So… you wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?” You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what he’s doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. “You can read my mind…” He smiles. 

“No, you’ve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.” You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. “Oh sorry…” He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. 

“It’s okay… Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enough…” You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something he’s already spent so long working on. “No it’s not… I… I’m really glad you can help me with it. Thank you… I’m just worried about the game tomorrow…” He nods. And it dawns on you. “Ohh…”

“I actually should get going… have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how we’re gonna pull this off…” He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. He’s been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that he’s out for the next few weeks. It’s against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and he’s nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him. 

“You’re not gonna play are you? You shouldn’t… not with your hand like that.” You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. “I can’t. It's an instant disqualification… so I have to talk to Coach and maybe I’ll just assistant coach tomorrow, I don’t know…” He sighs, knowing it’ll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far. 

“If it hurts, let Coach know… you don’t have to do anything that’s uncomfortable.” You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He can’t remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. “I will… don’t worry about me…” 

He says it but he doesn’t really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesn’t need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, he’s done more than enough of that over the past few weeks… he does want you to care. Or it’s more like… once he realized you actually do care, now he doesn’t want to lose that. 

“Just be careful… I know you’ll do well and the team will be fine…” You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. “Thank you… yeah I just need to chill.” He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. “Well… the feeling you’re having just means you care. It’s a good feeling, even though it’s scary…” 

He looks in your eyes, down at where you’re still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. You’ve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside. 

“Dinner later?” He inquires, brow raising as he’s starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time. 

“Sure, I’ll meet you there…” You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where you’re sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that he’s leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.

“O’hara! Dude.” Peter’s voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. “Where you been? You disappeared again…” Peter chuckles.

“Oh yeah I‘ve just been… busy in the lab and stuff… and my application.” He lies. While it’s true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, he’s also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he won’t tell Peter that. 

“Dana said you were being crazy or something…” Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguel’s heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? “What did she say?”

“Well… she’s kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last week…” Miguel’s eyes widen at that news. It’s just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. “MJ thinks she’s full of shit bu-"

“She is full of shit.” Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didn’t sleep with her. He’s not surprised though that she’s spreading that rumor around. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Shit, what happened?!” Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguel’s forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea what’s going on with someone who’s supposed to be his closest friend. “I broke my wrist but it’s fine, doctor says it’ll be fine even without surgery.”

“It’s fine?! What about the game?” Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. It’s against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguel’s the captain, their top offense and shooter. 

“I’ll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.”

“It’s Princeton, Miguel. We’re gonna get fuckin’ smoked out there…” Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. “I know it sucks… I know. But those new drills have been helping… I’m gonna talk to coach.” 

“Alright… but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. I’m not playing defense because they can’t pay attention to the fucking ball.” 

“I know, I know…” Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. They’ve been preparing for this game for a while now and it’s a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.

“Okay…” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, text me what Coach says…” He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as he’s starting to walk off to where he’s going. “No more disappearing…” Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and it’ll be all his fault. Because he can’t do more to help the team he’s supposed to be leading.

He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow. 

“Come on guys, one more time!” Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so it’s nothing he’s not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced it’ll earn them less whistles through the game. 

Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing they’ll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Come on… si yeah! ¡Mantén la posesión!" He shouts from the sides, watching the team warming up with the drills and keeping order, following them up and down their half of the field. “Marco!¡Sigue presionando! Call for it!" A mix of Spanish and English naturally leave his lips. Dark eyes follow their form and technique. Keeping everyone in order. They’re doing really well as always. But Miguel would prefer perfection. “Good! Alright break!” He shouts.

The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. “Marco, you’re gonna break you’re fuckin’ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesn’t have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?” Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey. 

“Just like that… keep it loose and look at Miller, he’s the one you’re paying attention to. Don’t look at Durante, he’s gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..” 

“There’s a lot of people here…” Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. It’s a little more than they’re used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.

“It’s a big game…” Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play… he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.

It’s the end of the first half and it’s been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. They’d be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines. 

“They’re fast…” Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. “We have to be faster… but we’re holding our own…” Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. He’s here to lead, not berate.

“You good?” He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peter’s the one that’s been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princeton’s defense is good. It’s one of those games where no one’s going to score very many goals, it’s all about making sure the other team doesn’t get too close. “That was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.” Miguel says. 

“I will… they’re so fuckin fast…” Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. They’re down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer. 

“I got a girl in the stands…” Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. “Yeah?” Miguel’s brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, he’s very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. “Who is she?” 

“Her name’s y/n…” 

What?

“...yeah you should meet her… she’s really pretty and smart and funny...” 

What?

Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguel’s face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself can’t put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peter’s words. “She’s head of the tutoring club… did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, I’m getting paid to do some freshman’s homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the world…” Peter laughs, talking on and on. 

Miguel doesn’t understand. It’s like his brain can’t process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But how could it be a joke?

“She’s riiiiight… there-” Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where he’s pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. It’s you. 

He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? You’ve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didn’t know? But Peter knew?

He can’t help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. You’re like… his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, he’s the reason you’re here. 

Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesn’t know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didn’t even know it. 

He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he can’t even tell. He hopes it’s him but it’s too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesn’t even know who you are. Fuck.

“Alright boys! Let’s huddle up!” Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel can’t help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. You’ve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didn’t even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all he’s done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer. 

Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he can’t make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again. 

“O’hara!” 

His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didn’t even know you knew each other. 

The second half, the rest of the game, it’s hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. He’s watching the team play but it’s like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.

He can’t help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time he’s able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, you’re looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peter’s possession. And he can’t focus on anything except what he doesn’t know. What he can’t control. 

…

“Wooooo!” Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and you’re gone from your seat. 

“O’hara!” The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles. 

The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldn’t close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peter’s voice. 

His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldn’t I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that I’m actually working really hard to repair? He ought to. 

He listens to Peter’s conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm he’s talking about you. But he can’t make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out. 

He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. He’s not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you. 

When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him. 

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is y/n… y/n this is Miguel” 

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” 

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends. 

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…” You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since it’s not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like you’re really one of Miguel’s friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. That’s all you want to prove to him. 

“Come on… please?” Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesn’t want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when he’s had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesn’t help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this. 

His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he can’t right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But he’s trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him. 

“It would be fun, right Miguel?” Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he can’t do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. “Yeah… come…” 

Your eyes light up and Miguel knows he’s done for. “Oh great!” You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great it’s going to be and how many people will be there. Miguel’s heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.

It’s the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. It’s a crazy night at least for you. Miguel’s seen nights like this before, but this time you’re here. And he won’t let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesn’t care about anyone else in this bar tonight. 

Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you. 

He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. It’s clear you’re not a party girl. You’re a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didn’t have a fierce determination to protect you in this place. 

He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. He’s the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.

“Drink… Do you want a drink?” He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. “Yeah! Whatever is fine…” You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like you’re fitting into his world. 

He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesn’t know if you’d want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. He’s never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. You’re so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest. 

Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. “Oh, I thought you were gonna get the same thing…” You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup. 

“Someone needs to be responsible for all these people right?” He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows they’ll listen to him. “And I need to be sober if I’m carrying you out of this place drunk off your ass…” He jokes, teasing you. 

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank you…” You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. You’re so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light. 

“Well how is the beer at least? I know it’s not something sweet but it’s probably the best thing they have here.” He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. He’d love to just be all over you and show people that you’re his. But you’re not right now. You’re his friend and that’s the boundary you both set. He’s trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. “It’s fine… I don’t ever drink much anyway so I’m not picky…” 

He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how you’re a little nervous in this place. It’s not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. “Yeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonight…” He comments, looking around then back at you. “You’re okay though, right?” 

“Yeah I’m fine…” You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. He’s attentive, more recently than ever. It’s true that he’s become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasn’t been that long, it’s felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place. 

Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend… isn't he… "

He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.

"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funny…"

His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that you’re calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girls…  he's quite the flirt…" He mumbles.

"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.

Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that you’re completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.

"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again… "

"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you comin’…" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.

Miguel can't help but smile, knowing you’re referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming though…"

You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And  Peter works his way through the room over to the bar. 

"There you guys are! I thought I lost you…" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguel’s eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive. 

"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.

"Well you all played very well…" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguel’s body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines. 

"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is tough…" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.

"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent… Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.

You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice. 

"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.

“Um…" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell… "Sure!"

Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks? 

"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. “Okayyy…” Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguel’s rivalry. But Miguel doesn’t care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face. 

Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just won’t go away. He’s practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because you’re so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go? 

“So… you guys are like best friends?” You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. You’re tipsy and Miguel’s watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. “We are… best friends…” Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and it’s getting annoying. 

He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. It’s getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here. 

“One more round?” Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. You’re both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere it’s safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.

“Do you wanna leave?” You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see you’ve been having fun. “No, I’m good, we can stay if you want…” He hums gently. 

“Don’t lie, Mig…” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. “I’m a little tired…” He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know it’s time to go. 

“Let’s go then… it’s too loud…” You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay. 

…

“Wai-I ‘ave a question…” You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as he’s trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What you’ve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and… and your tongue still tastes like beer and… and he smells so good. 

“Yeah, what's your question?” He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you don’t topple over. “Hold still, I’m gonna take your shoes off…” 

“D’you think… that… um…” You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, it’s all you were thinking about all night. “M-my shoe is stuck”

“I know, I’m trying to get it off…” He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.

“Do you think that… all your friends… that they like-like it?” You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. “Do they like what,-?” He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe it’s just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you. 

“That they like me…” You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter? 

“Like P-peter… does Peter like me?” You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. It’s becoming more clear you have a thing for him too. 

Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. “Cuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends… and I can be friends with your friends too…” 

He doesn’t understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like he’s miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter. 

“Uh… I think Peter likes you, yeah…” He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. “Really? So we can all be friends?” 

His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again? 

“I’m sweating…” You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. “Woah woah slow down, sweetheart…” The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?

You’re sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguel’s again. You’re friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So what’s stopping him? What’s stopping both of you from just being together again? Since you’ve proven to him, you can fit in. 

“Miguel…” You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. “Yes?” He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already. 

You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it. 

Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. You’re… kissing him… you…

Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming. 

But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and he’s so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Wait-”

He’s silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now it’s like you’re hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time. 

“I need you…” You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and yet it’s not right at all. “No baby… you need to go to sleep… you’re drunk…” He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other. 

“No please… say you want me, please you have to, don’t you want to?” You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. He’s speechless. Doesn’t know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker. 

“I want you… I do want you…” He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You won’t remember this in the morning. 

You won’t remember this in the morning. 

“I love you…” He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat. 

“Mm?” You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you. 

“Nothing…” He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing you’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound. 

To be continued…

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!

Taglist (thank you my sweets 🍬) :

@miguels-cock-piercings @queerponcho @club-danger-zone @bossva @softcrayon

@nommingonfood @bruhhvv

@jessies-unrelagated-thoughts @mauvecherie-writes @haveclayeveryday @kimivixen

@jadeloverxd @chiikasevennn @mvlanchqly @resident-cryptid

@x0tw0d57 @vampyboys @miguelspriscilla

@francesca-the-1st @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

@curious-randomlr @safixiovi @daddyfroglegs @theplaid-wearingmoose @reader-1290

@yeanika @elysiumsangel @rinnako @mangoslushcrush @twwcs

@izakopanyi2 @migueloharasoulmate @slut4oscarissac23

@miss-loomis @genny101

@aphinthestars @webshooterrr9 @m4dyy

@jdbxws @roserfz27 @ohara-whore @oharaslove @daisy-artfield

@mooreaey6yem @peachey-pie @migueloharacumslut @pxtched

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @julia4today

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Professor, I didn’t cheat.

Summary: reader is a top student at her university. always exceeding in her courses and even taking the liberty to do study groups with other students to help them. Professor Kennedy finds out that the reader and this other student have the same thesis for an upcoming paper. What happens when he confronts y/n after class?

Warning: fem reader. Professor Leon. make out. breast play. creampie. age gap. CONSENTED.

a/n: I HATE my political class. I don’t understand anything😭 I was put in a group full of of guys and I deadass felt so out of place

(pt.1) (pt.2)

You always took notes during his lectures. You always made sure to jot down every single detail, even if it was something that you could search online. Your studies were important to you. You wanted to be the best so you strived for academic success. Many students valued your ambitious character but others were jealous.

Today’s lecture was more of an exam day. You always aced your tests, given that you studied the night before. You were one of the first students to finish their exam. You and the girl next to you finished at the same time and walked up to Leon’s desk to turn it in. You took your backpack with you as you laid the exam flat on his wooden desk. He gave you a curt nod, and then one to the other girl.

You both walked out of the classroom without any issues.

Until Leon emailed you that he wanted to have a private conference with you.

You panicked. What could have possibly have gone wrong? Or maybe he knew of an opportunity that you could take, like a job or a scholarship you should apply. Most professors did that, they helped their best students.

So when you walked to his office Monday morning, your gut feeling sank as you noticed the look on his face. It was a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. He motioned for you to step up to his desk, “Y/n, glad you’re here. Please, take a seat.” He sat down on his desk chair while you took one of the chair in front of his desk.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” He began as he shuffled through some papers.

What could have possibly called you for? Nevertheless, you responded, “Yes, Professor, I am.”

He looked at you for a brief moment before laying a piece of paper in front of you. It was your exam, not graded yet, but it was yours. You furrowed your brows in confusion and then looked at him, “This is my exam…what’s wrong with it?”

He cleared his throat and rested his hands on his desk, “Look, I’m going to be straight with you. You’re an excellent student. The best student I’ve had so far.” He began slowly but you felt anxious, where was this going to?

“However, academic integrity is part of the student conduct every student must follow. I cannot grade your exam, y/n.”

It was as if time stopped. Your eyes widened, your heart was beating out of your chest. The silence was deafening, the pit in your stomach dropped heavy. “If you don’t grade this exam, I’ll fail the course,” you replied anxiously, “I can’t afford another class, I’ll have to wait for other scholarship opportunities to help me pay.”

He looked at you with sympathy but that didn’t mean he believed you, “Look, I know it’s stressful but that’s life. You don’t get an easy grade from cheating off a friend.”

“Cheating off a friend? Sir, with all due respect, I am not friends with anyone in the class,” you began to feel defensive. You didn’t know anyone, you only talked to them for projects. The professor raised his eyebrow as he stared at you.

“Someone told me that you copied from them. I won’t name the student since that’s between me and them,” he leaned forward onto the desk, “You’re an exemplary student, it hurts me to say this to you.”

All you could do was stare at him, someone actually wanted to ruin your grade and reputation. While you remained silent, he spoke, “Look, you have amazing grades and your participation has been outstanding. I’ll give you another chance. Retake the exam but it must be in my office.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why should I retake an exam if I didn’t cheat? I guarantee you, I would never lie on an exam. I am aware of the consequences that comes from cheating off of someone.”

Leon sighed and leaned back against his chair, “You’re stubborn, that’s good in a student.” He paused for a few moments, staring at you in silence, almost analyzing you. “Tell you what, I’ll investigate this further, however I still want you to take the exam again. If what you say is true then the retake of the exam will be extra credit for your grade.”

Extra credit? How can you say no to that? You sighed defeatedly and nodded along to his words, “Fine, I’ll retake the exam.”

He smiled softly and gave you a short single nod, “Good, come to my office on Wednesday at 12:30.”

You nod again and stood up to leave his office. His eyes trailed behind your back as you walked away from his office. Now all you had to do was wait for Wednesday so you can retake that exam, but first, should you find the person who accused you of cheating?

Wednesday came and you, lazily, made your way to his office. It was 12:25 as you were walking the halls of offices. The Dean’s office, some other professor’s office and then there was his. With his name plastered in the door in gold, Leon Scott Kennedy.

You knocked three times and heard a soft ‘Come in.’ You stepped into his office, immediately met with the smell of coffee, you forgot how much coffee this man consumed but honestly, who doesn’t consume coffee in college? “I’m here,” you spoke awkwardly as you looked at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you scan him, he looked strangely hot. His tie was loose, his suit jacket hung on the back of his chair and his sleeves were rolled up. You were to see how toned and muscular his arms were, the watch on his left wrist made his hands look bigger for some reason. His hair was messy but it made him look godly.

“Ah, you’re here, good,” He motioned for you to sit down at the chair in front of his desk. “Take out your laptop, I published the exam for you. It should be there.”

You walked over to the chair and sat down in front of his desk, you pulled your laptop out of your school bag and began to scroll through your student account, “I see it.” You mumbled softly.

“Let me know when you’re ready, you have 90 minutes to complete the exam,” He replied politely. You could tell he was proud that you decided to retake it. With a soft sigh, you nodded and began to work on your exam. You leaned back against the chair as your laptop rested on your lap, you answered one question after another. It was an easy exam, you’ve taken it before.

Leon was watching you attentively, his eyes scanning over your relaxed figure. He noticed the way your hair seemed a little bit messy and how your brows scrunched up together in deep thought. He felt proud because he knew you were an ambitious student, you were everything he wanted in a student. Studious, hardworking, hot- wait a minute, hot?

He quickly looked away and focused on some miscellaneous files, he shouldn’t be thinking about his students. He kept stealing glances at you as you worked on your exam and he couldn’t help but feel hot. His eyes lingering on parts of your body, as if truly seeing you for the first time. He sees you as an attractive woman.

“I finished,” you mumbled softly as you looked up from your laptop, he quickly turned his gaze to his computer to check if you finished it. With a firm nod he responded, “Yeah, I see it. Good job, you got another perfect score.”

Of course you did, you were the smartest in his class. This was easy for you, light work. You closed your laptop and began to pack up but not before he tried to stop you, “Hey, wait- don’t leave yet.”

You looked up from your bag to look at him. He clears his throat and continues, “I still have to put in your grade and we need to talk about the cheating accusation.” You nodded and remained quiet as he kept speaking, “I decided to grade both your exams and use this attempt as your extra credit. You’re a great student and it would be a shame if anything bad were to happen to you that could affect your future.”

Your eyes widened, you couldn’t believe he was being this considerate. Most times when a student s caught cheating, a lawyer gets involved. But he was being nice, too nice even.

“What happened to the investigation?” You asked with furrowed brows. “I decided to drop it. I see that you scored the same on both tries so I guess that means you weren’t lying,” he replied as he maintained eye contact. His foggy blue eyes piercing into your soul. It didn’t help that his appearance made you feel butterflies.

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about this scholarship I found. It might be good for you,” His hand motioned for you to come up to him and his computer, you got up from the chair and walked to stand behind him. The screen showed a website of a scholarship due next semester. You heard him talk about the details but all you could focus on was the scent of his cologne. He smelled good albeit his messy look. He turned around in his chair to look at you and your faces were merely centimeters away from each other. You looked down at him and he looked up at you from his chair. It wasn’t on purpose but your gaze fell to his lips. Your gaze switched from his eyes to your lips and you didn’t notice how he slowly brought his hand to your cheek. He cupped your side of your face and brought you down to his face.

It wasn’t meant to happen but you felt your lips against his lips. The moment the two of you joined together as one in a kiss felt surreal. His lips tasted like coffee. His other hand traveled to your waist and pulled you down to his lap. You straddled his hips and gripped on his hair as you two emerged into a passionate and sensual kiss. His tongue brushing against your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you as he forced his tongue inside your mouth. The man was old but he knew how to kiss so good. You moaned into the kiss and felt his cock hardened against your clothed core. Causing your panties to grow a wet spot from the arousal. You shifted slightly against his hips, grinding up against his erection. Your kiss turned hot and messy, saliva dripping down as your chest is pressed up against his. His hands traveled down from your waist to your hips, fingers digging at your skin.

He put hind hands on the back of your thighs near your ass and picked you up. He gently laid your back down on his desk, not caring about the files falling to the floor right now. His mouth moved to your neck as he began to nibble and suck on your skin. Red marks terrorizing your sensitive skin as you moaned and gasped. Your hands gripped on the back of his hair as his hands began to travel to the inside of your shirt, touching your stomach and swiftly making their to your breasts. He growled against your skin as he pushed his hand inside your bra and felt the hardened nipple.

“Take it off,” I mumbled against your skin and pulled back. He helped you take off your shirt as you began to unclasp your bra, revealing those beautiful titties to him. Their color only making him water the mouth, he dropped down to one of your breast and began to suck hard on it while his hand manhandled the other. You arched your back as his tongue moved swiftly across areola of your breast. The salivating skin coating your breast as his teeth grazed your nipple. Your moans and whimpers escaping your mouth as he destroyed your breasts with his mouth and hand. You felt good.

He pulled back from your chest and looked down at the marvelous sight before him. He leaned down to kiss you again before softly whispering against your lips, “Let me know if you want to stop.”

You nodded your head and watched as his hands traveled down to his trousers and began to unbuckle his belt and buttons. He pulled his pants down to his thighs and pulled down on his boxers. His erection jumping from the enclosed space, hitting his abdomen with a thwack as precum had been leaking. He was large, the tip a rosy tone of pink with a vein protruding from the side, his cock leaned to his left and you could swear you saw it twitch. It was a spectacular sight. His hands quickly went down to take off your pants, pulling them to your ankles before taking them off completely. His noticed the wet spot in your panties from your presumably wet cunt.

His index finger pressed down against the fabric covering your clit, the slick of your folds seeping through the fabric as you shut your eyes tightly and moaned quietly. He smirked and began to circled your clit through your panties, he wasn’t aware you were into this but he obliged.

Just as you were near your orgasm, he pulled his finger back and pulled your panties down towards the floor along with your pants. He stood in between your legs and aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance, “I wish I had the time to prepare you but I’ve got a meeting after this,” he mumbled as he pushed himself into you, not giving you time to respond as your mouth became full of moans.

He made sure to fill up with his cock until his balls made contact with your ass, your jaw fell slack as you rolled your head back against his desk. Leon slowly began to thrust in and out, not fully pulling out, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size.

Once he was sure you were doing good, he began to thrust into you. Pulling out and pushing back in with force, causing the desk to grind against the floor. He leaned down and put his hands on either side of your head. Your hands traveled to his hair and back, clawing your nails through his shirt.

The sound of skin clapping and the smell of sweat and sex covered the room. The air felt humid as both of your breaths became heavy and labored. You felt his tip touch your cervix, sending a wave of pleasure over you through a whimper. He kept thrusting, making sure to hit your g-spot and cervix. He may not have fingered you but he was still a gentleman, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this just as much.

Your moans began to cut short as your breathing increasing, you arched your back and felt the band in your lower stomach stretching to a snap. And soon enough, your pussy clenched around his cock. Your orgasm milking and pulsating as he thrusted in you while you were experiencing your high. You closed your eyes and the darkness was clouded with stars.

His own thrusts faltered a little bit as he felt you clench and pulsate around his member and without a second thought he couldn’t contain his own cum from spilling inside you. His hot and thick juices shooting into your womb as he slammed his cock into your cunt for one last time. He kept himself buried inside you as he tried to catch his breath. Both of you panting and sweaty.

He slowly pulled out of you and watched as his cum dropped down from your cunt to his desk, the sight making his cock throb again but he couldn’t indulge himself for a second round as he had a meeting to attend. He helped you clean yourself up with some tissues he had and handed you your clothes from the floor. You both began to dress yourselves as the aftermath of what you two had done began to settle into your heads. He looked at you with a smirk and kissed your cheek, his stubble grazing your skin.

“I’ve got to now, sweetheart,” he whispered as his hand cupped your cheek like he did previously. “You should let me take you to dinner some time.”

You could only nod as you were still feeling dumb from the sex, “Yeah…”

He chuckled and pressed a light kiss on your lips before leaving you in his office.

Who knew a professor could fuck so good?

[claramelooo]

Hey, guys!

If you're reading this, congratulations! We've reached the end of this saga! I'm so happy I had the courage to start this project, and it's all thanks to the support of you guys who interacted with me so well that I felt comfortable writing with all my heart.

I still thinking in eventually to write one-shots for them, but I dunno, you tell me!! Lol

and I will definitely write more about the milfs we love, no worries!

Enjoy it!!

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Happy Ending!!!

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader

Summary: Wanda's courage makes her knock on your door after five years

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider | Part 5 - The Lamb | Part 6 - Pure Crimson | Part 7 - Dependece | Part 8 - Passion | Part 9 - Revenge | Part 10 - Control | Part 11 - Consequences

VELVET CHAINS

Love

After five years, everything had changed. You had graduated in International Relations and were working in a mid-level position at the American embassy, handling negotiations, mediating conversations between diplomats, and diving into a routine that made you feel important. It wasn’t exactly what you had imagined when you first dreamed of your career, but you were on the right path.

Living in a quiet Manhattan neighborhood, your apartment reflected who you were: an organized person with a touch of calculated chaos. Stacks of books sat on the coffee table, an unfinished painting leaned against the wall, and Sparky, your Golden Retriever, bounded back and forth with endless energy.

Sparky had come into your life at a strange time, a gift from Yelena. "You need some decent company," she said, placing the puppy in your hands. "Because clearly, you can’t pick good company on your own." It was her way of showing she cared, and you knew that.

Yelena was one of the few ties you kept to your past. Despite your differences, you often met up, usually for quick lunches at tucked-away cafés in the city. She would talk about her work, about Natasha, and occasionally drop hints that you should go out more.

"You're young, smart, and beautiful," she’d say, almost like a mantra. "And you live like a nun."

What Yelena didn’t understand—or pretended not to—was that you didn’t just want to go out more. You wanted something that felt impossible to find: connection.

Even when you went out with your blonde fling (if you could even call her that), everything felt hollow. She was funny, gorgeous, and always willing to meet up, but she knew nothing about who you really were. She didn’t know about Sparky, your sleepless nights reading poetry, and definitely didn’t know about Wanda.

Ah, Wanda.

There were moments when thoughts of her crept in. Not intentionally, of course, but reflexively. Like when Sparky did something adorable, reminding you of how much Wanda loved dogs. Or when a particular song came on, one she used to hum while cooking.

But you’d learned to shove those memories into the back of your mind. There was too much to deal with in the present.

That day, for example, a stack of reports awaited your review, and you had a meeting at three. But first, you needed to take Sparky for a quick walk. Grabbing his leash, you left the apartment, greeting a few neighbors along the way.

"Good morning, Y/n!" called a cheerful older woman from the second floor.

"Good morning, Mrs. Harris!" you replied, your smile automatic but genuine.

Mornings were like that: simple, ordinary. A far cry from the life you once lived.

By the end of the day, Sparky lay curled up on the rug while you pored over a complicated email. The weight of routine settled over you. Everything seemed in place, yet something still felt out of tune.

You paused, staring out at the city through the window. The lights shimmered on the horizon, a promise of vibrant life out there.

But inside you, there was only silence.

After five years, everything had changed—except you.

Outwardly, you were the perfect image of an adult woman: successful, independent, living the life anyone would envy. But inside, the marks Wanda had left on you lingered like invisible scars, impossible to ignore.

You still felt like a little girl, torn between the desire to be cared for and the need for discipline. No matter how much you tried to bury it, there was a void in your routine that no job, company, or casual relationship could fill.

Wanda had shaped you. She taught you to surrender, to trust, to lose control in a safe way—and somehow, that had defined you. The nights with her still visited your dreams, a mix of longing and anguish. Her voice, firm yet full of care, still echoed in your mind when you felt overwhelmed.

"Good girl."

It was a simple phrase, but loaded with meanings no one else seemed to understand. It wasn’t just the compliment itself; it was what came with it: warmth, security, the feeling of being seen entirely.

A shiver ran down your spine at the memory. Sometimes, you hated it—hated how her memories still held power over you. But the truth was that part of you yearned for it again: a firm touch, a gaze that stripped away all your layers of protection, a kiss that said, "You’re mine."

You’d tried to recreate it with other people, of course. Foolishly, you thought you might find something similar with your blonde fling. But the woman lacked patience, or the understanding to handle your needs. She enjoyed herself, sure, but she had no idea that, for you, it went far beyond casual sex.

There were times when she rolled her eyes as you hesitated or became too submissive. It made you withdraw, reminding you that without Wanda, no one else seemed willing or capable of understanding.

"You’re complicated," the blonde had once said after you hesitated to take any initiative.

The woman straddling you moved rhythmically, trying to coax a reaction that just wouldn’t come. It wasn’t her fault; she was doing everything right. The problem was you. It was always you. Or rather, the emptiness left by the one who should never have gone.

Your vacant gaze fixed on the ceiling, your hands resting lazily on her hips, entirely unenthusiastic. Everything felt wrong, each touch a cruel reminder of what you truly wanted.

And it was only one person.

Not even five damn years had been enough to erase her name from your mind. It was etched somewhere between your ribs, buried deep but never far enough to ignore.

Wanda.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the thought away, but it was useless. All you could do was remember the feel of her mouth on yours, the sound of her raspy voice calling your name, the devastating look that made you feel like the only person in the world.

Now, she was on the other side of the country. Probably lying in bed next to her perfect husband. You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Vision was everything any woman could want: stable, respectable, and, of course, approved by everyone that mattered. But he was never you.

You let out a deep, heavy sigh, so profound the blonde paused, propping herself up on her elbows to look at you with a mix of confusion and irritation.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

You shifted your gaze to the blonde straddling you... Jenna? Jemma? You couldn’t even remember her name. All you knew was that she worked in a different department.

Gripping the blonde’s hair, you yanked her head closer. "That’s not how you ask for what you want. But since you’re a dumb little slut, I’ll do all the work."

The woman, who had been about to protest your dirty language, fell silent as you buried three fingers inside her. You grabbed her waist and pulled her down until your fingers disappeared completely.

Her nails were already digging into your shoulders with the simple movement. You smiled to yourself before you began to destroy the poor woman's pussy. You thrust with maximum speed and force, making her scream in pleasure.

You curled your fingertips, hitting the woman's spongy, pulsing spot—bringing tremors in her legs, indicating the strong signs of an orgasm. When the woman came loudly, you pulled out of her.

At least she started to get dressed quickly afterward, "Maybe we can do this again sometime."

You gave her a weak smile. "Maybe."

You grabbed your phone, ordering an Uber for the blonde, the feeling of having brought her here haunting your mind like a mistake weighing on your heart.

As you waited for the blonde's Uber, guilt began to mix with boredom. It wasn't just her; it was the whole situation. The repetition of the same pattern: empty encounters, forgettable faces, names you didn't even bother to remember. You grabbed a robe to dress yourself and cover your nakedness—you threw yourself on the living room couch, while Sparky, your faithful companion, jumped beside you, offering an affection that seemed to be the only true constant in your life.

The apartment was a clear representation of who you had become over the past five years. Modern, well-decorated, yet with an air of transience, as though you had never truly committed to the space. A reflection of your own soul, perhaps.

And now, there was the job offer abroad. Paris. A dream for anyone in your field. The first thought you had when you received the news was excitement. Yet, there was something inside you that hesitated. It wasn’t just attachment to what you had built in Manhattan. It was what you still couldn’t let go of, even after all this time.

Wanda.

Her name still carried a different weight. A name that brought a flood of memories: her laughter, the way she looked at you, the way the world seemed to dissolve when you were together. You didn’t know how she was now. You knew she was in Texas. But beyond that?

Was she still with Vision? Did the boys remember you? Had she completely forgotten about you?

The emptiness returned, but this time with a twinge of curiosity. What was Wanda doing now? Was she sleeping beside Vision? Was she thinking about you?

The sound of a notification on your phone pulled you from your thoughts. The Uber had arrived. You got up, escorting the woman outside, ensuring she was safe—you’d never let anyone leave without making sure of that. The blonde waved at you from the car window, and you responded with an automatic gesture before walking toward your balcony.

You stopped in your tracks when you heard a familiar, yet more mature voice.

“You should put some clothes on if you’re planning to stay out here all night.”

Your blood ran cold at the sound of that voice. A strong wave of denial surged within you. Turning toward the voice took all the strength you had to stop yourself from retreating indoors.

The world seemed to tilt when you turned, and there she was. Wanda Maximoff. Five years. Five damn years since the last time you’d seen her, but nothing could have prepared you for this moment.

She stood at the base of your balcony, arms crossed over her chest, covered by a wool cardigan. Her hair was longer than you remembered, with strands that caught the faint streetlight, giving her an almost ethereal glow. But that wasn’t what captured your attention. It wasn’t her undeniable beauty. It was the restrained fury in her eyes, a deep, uncontrollable fire that pierced you like blades.

“Wanda…” you whispered, her name barely escaping your throat as your heart raced wildly.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression stern as she tilted her head slightly. “I asked if you’re staying out here all night or if you’re finally going to get dressed.”

You looked down at yourself, realizing you were still in just your robe, nothing else. But it wasn’t enough to distract you from the fact that she was there. After five years. After all the time and distance, she was standing on your balcony, looking at you as though she could dismantle your entire life with a single glance.

“I…” You tried to speak, but your voice failed. Your chest tightened, a storm of emotions you couldn’t name swirling inside you. Fear. Guilt. Longing. Anger. Love. All spinning within you like a tornado. “It’s been a while.” You finally settled on that response.

Wanda’s eyes narrowed at you. “Yes, and you’ve kept yourself very busy since the last time I saw you.”

Her sarcasm hit you like a slap. Her anger, once contained, began to spill over. How dare she? Five years of silence. Five years of emptiness, and now she was here, judging you?

“It’s none of your business,” you retorted, your voice harsher than you intended.

“It used to be,” Wanda replied with the same intensity. She took a step closer, her eyes burning as her voice dropped to something rougher, more intimate. “You used to be so good to Mommy.”

Her words cut like a knife. The heat you’d felt turned to a chill. You stepped back, raising your hands as if to keep a safe distance from her, from everything she represented.

“Goodnight, Wanda,” you said, your voice cold and controlled, trying to salvage the last shred of dignity you had. You turned to head inside, but before you could take more than two steps, you felt a tug on your wrist.

Her touch, even after everything, was familiar. Too familiar. Your eyes met hers again, and something in Wanda’s expression had shifted. There was anger, yes, but also... something else. Something that looked like desperation.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice now almost a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken conversations. “We need to talk.”

“Talk?” you repeated, almost mocking. “Five years, Wanda. Five years of silence. And now you show up at my door, after everything... to talk?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When she opened them again, tears were beginning to pool.

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. Your heart was still racing as you stepped back, swallowing hard and looking away from Wanda. It was too much—seeing her there, the weight of her presence after all this time. You tried to escape the emotional storm, turning toward your hallway, your hands trembling as you gripped the door to close it.

But before the wood could meet the frame, her foot stopped it.

The shock of her audacity quickly morphed into anger. You spun on your heels, ready to confront her, but before you could say a word, Wanda had already crossed the threshold of your home. Without permission.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” your voice came out firm, though the lump in your throat remained. You stepped forward, crossing your arms, trying to project an authority you didn’t feel.

Wanda didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. She shut the door behind her with a calm that was unsettling, her green eyes scanning the room before landing back on you. “I’m not standing out in the cold while you play house with every random whore who crosses your path. But when I need you—when Mommy needs you—you refuse to listen,” she said, her tone almost casual, but with an edge of something dangerous, like a sharp knife wrapped in velvet.

The word you hadn’t heard, hadn’t uttered in years, sent shivers down your spine. Hearing it from Wanda’s mouth reignited a fire in your lower belly—one you tried to ignore.

“Listen?” You laughed, but it was dry and full of disbelief. “You barge into my house after five years and think I owe you anything? Wanda?”

Wanda stepped closer, and you realized you were cornered between her and the wall. Despite the anger burning inside you, something else was growing—something that made your knees weak and the air hard to breathe.

“Five years,” she repeated, her voice heavy with meaning. “Five years without a single word. And now, when I finally see you, you think you can dismiss me with a ‘goodnight, Wanda’? No. We’re going to talk, Y/n.”

“Talk?” you repeated, almost derisively.

The tension in the room was almost electric as you held Wanda’s gaze. No matter how hard you tried to maintain your firm posture, your crossed arms, and your cold voice, something inside you was crumbling. She was so close now, and that familiar scent—a mix of something floral and woody—invaded your senses, dragging up memories you had spent five long years trying to bury.

“Yes, talk,” Wanda replied, her tone lower now, but with an intensity that rooted you in place. “And you’re going to listen, Y/n. Because I didn’t cross half the country to be ignored.”

You let out a bitter laugh, anger and confusion boiling inside you. “You don’t have the right to show up here and demand anything from me, Wanda. Nothing! You made your choice, remember? You chose your family. You chose Vision. So why are you here now? For what?”

Her eyes shimmered with a mix of pain and determination.

"Vision found out." Two words—only two words were enough for you to completely let your guard down with her.

You felt your arms drop to your sides, your posture crumbling. All the control you had desperately tried to maintain was ripped away. Wanda observed the change in you, her eyes watchful but devoid of any satisfaction. It seemed like she was crumbling inside too.

"Found out what, exactly?" you asked, but your voice came out softer than you intended. It was a loaded question, filled with everything you had tried to ignore for years.

"About us," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "About everything."

You let yourself fall back against the wall, trying to find stability as your head spun. "And then? What do you want from me now, Wanda? I can't be your safe place when everything falls apart. Not anymore."

The woman ignored your questions and continued her monologue, her eyes glistening with tears. “He threatened me. Threatened to expose this to the church, threatened to take the boys from me.” Wanda's voice was a fragile thread.

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. Everything about her—the teary eyes, the voice heavy with pain, the proximity—was pulling you back into a whirlwind of emotions you didn’t want to face.

“I thought about killing him.” The confession made your heart stop for a second. You felt the weight of those words hit you like a punch. Wanda, your Wanda, talking about murdering her husband with an almost practical coldness.

She took another step, her palm now resting against your cheek, a touch so delicate it completely contrasted with the violence of her words.

“It would be simple to poison him, and I’d be free—I’d have my boys, my reputation intact, I’d have you.”

The closeness was suffocating. The intensity in her eyes, the tears slowly rolling down Wanda's face, mingling with your own tear-filled gaze, trapped you in a way you couldn’t escape.

“But then… Billy got sick, and I saw no other way out, Y/n. There was no other way to push you out of my life except for that…” Her voice trembled, an echo of a desperation so raw and real it made your chest tighten even more.

Your heart was torn between believing her and protecting yourself. Her words seemed genuine, but you knew Wanda had always had the power to manipulate your feelings. She always knew exactly how to reach the most vulnerable corners of your soul.

“Wanda, I...” You tried to find words but were lost. Lost in the whirlwind of emotions she provoked in you—anger, sadness, love, and a terrible longing for everything you used to be together.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, her fingers now softly tracing the line of your jaw. "I just wanted to protect you. Protect the boys. Protect... us."

"Protect?" Your voice finally found strength. "Wanda, you destroyed everything. Not just your life but mine too. I spent five years trying to piece together what you left behind. And now you come back, expecting me to believe it was all to protect us?"

Wanda stepped back slightly, but her eyes remained fixed on yours, pleading for something you didn’t know if you could give. "I don’t expect you to forgive me, Y/n. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I needed you to know. I needed you to understand what really happened."

Silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive. Her words still echoed in your mind. Vision. Threats. The boys. She had thought about killing for you. For them.

And despite everything, a part of you wanted to believe her. Wanted to go back in time, to before everything fell apart, to when her touch was the only thing that made sense in the world. But the past was there, as present as she was, and you didn’t know how to escape its shadow.

“Who was she?” Wanda's hoarse voice cut through the silence like a blade—low, but laden with an intensity that sent a shiver up your spine.

You blinked, confused, trying to understand the question. "Who...?"

"The blonde? Who was she?" Wanda interrupted, her eyes burning into yours, her tone a little firmer, almost possessive.

You hesitated, discomfort growing. "I... I don’t know what that matters now, Wanda."

"It matters," she shot back, stepping forward. "Because she left your house wearing the same cheap perfume I smelled on you when I arrived. So I’ll ask again: who was she?"

The sudden clarity in Wanda's words hit you like a shock. It wasn’t just curiosity or simple jealousy; there was something deeper in the way she was looking at you, as if she desperately needed this answer.

“She’s just...” You averted your gaze, trying to find an explanation that didn’t sound as frivolous as the truth. "She’s nobody. Someone from work. She means nothing."

“Means nothing,” Wanda repeated, almost to herself, but with a touch of sarcasm that hurt more than you wanted to admit. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. When she opened them again, her green eyes were intense, locked on yours. "You think I believe that? Since when would you let just anyone touch you? She isn’t ‘nothing.’"

"You have no right to come here and ask me these kinds of questions, Wanda. Not after everything," you snapped back, your own anger finally starting to bubble.

She began, her voice deep but trembling, “Just the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, seeing you the way I did…” She paused, her fists clenched at her sides. “It feels like the ground is disappearing beneath me.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. Her intensity was overwhelming. "Wanda..."

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice broke, and for a moment, she seemed so vulnerable that you didn’t know whether to stay or run. “I tried to move on. I tried to accept that I’d never have you again. But every day, every night that passed, I felt you with me. Here.” She pressed her hand to her chest, over her heart.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to deal with the storm forming in front of you.

“I see myself in every woman who tries to touch you," she continued, her voice lowering but still loaded with dangerous intensity. “And it’s unbearable. Because no matter who they are, I know none of them will ever be good enough for you. Because none of them are me.”

Her words hit like a blow, mixing anger, sadness, and a pang of something you didn’t want to name. Love. Maybe obsession.

You whimpered, “That’s not fair! You chose him over me! You can’t just come here and say whatever you want.”

“I had to, Y/n! For the sake of my kids, for Billy’s health!” She snapped, clearly frustrated with your stubbornness.

You let out an incredulous laugh. “And what does that mean now, huh? What does it change in the present?”

She stood up from the couch, straightening her posture—and her pride. “It means I’m divorcing him.” She began walking toward you in slow steps. “It means I took the first flight and traveled 27 hours—even though I’m terrified of planes—just to see you.” Wanda smiled, emotional. More steps, closer to you. “It means, Y/n, that no matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t forget you.”

You wanted to step back, but your body wouldn’t obey. You couldn’t control yourself and cursed inwardly at the thought that your body still belonged to her, and the promise Wanda made you before still lingered.

“You know what, Y/n?” Wanda said, staring at you intently.

You couldn’t have answered even if you wanted to, your voice stuck in your throat.

“All I’ve been able to think about for the last few fucking months is your beautiful face between my legs.” Her face was close to yours, her breath fresh and hauntingly familiar, tickling your skin. “Tell me, so many women coming and going from this place… but has any of them made you come like I did?”

The truth was that you hadn’t had an orgasm since your last time with Wanda. Every woman who had passed through your life didn’t understand how much you wanted to be broken during sex and then be held, pampered, loved…

“Oh, poor thing… Haven’t you cum since the last time Mommy made you?”

Usually, you hated it when people got in your head, but you were getting close to the limits of your intelligence. The only woman who could make you was right in front of you trying to do just that.

“It seems like you need Mommy as much as she needs you.” Wanda slowly knelt down, opening the robe you were wearing a little. She moaned when she saw that you weren’t wearing any panties.

“Fuck, I love how wet you get for me.” The woman’s mouth was watering as she remembered the taste of you on her tongue.

Your breathing quickened when one of Wanda’s fingers dragged through your folds. Quickly, you took a step back and closed the robe again.

“I can’t do this. You're going to fuck me and then leave me!” You shouted, stomping your feet like the little girl Wanda knew well and missed terribly.

“Y/n, I'm getting a divorce, seriously!” She uses that soothing tone, the tone she used to calm you down when you cried in her arms after a punishment.

Before you can deny her once more, Wanda crushes her lips to yours—and that was the end of the conversation. Your hands locked themselves in the older woman's blond locks, bringing her even closer to you.

“I hate you so much!” You growled, biting Wanda's lower lip, making her moan. “You owe me the best orgasm of my life.”

You rip the woman's blouse, wrapping Wanda's nipple between your teeth—mutilating them, making Wanda moan.

“Has he touched you since I left? Do you moan like that for him? Does your body react to his touch?” As much as you tried. Tried to forget her and put out the fire of your obsession for her, here you were, with your mouth mistreating every inch of her skin.

“No.” Wanda replied breathlessly, her hands tangling in your hair. “Only you.” The woman’s intense gaze as she said this made you shiver.

Wanda pulled your head away from her. Your neck was stretched back as she stared hungrily at your body, “Mommy understands that you’re mad at her, baby, but don’t forget who’s in charge. You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

You immediately flinched at the brightness of her black eyes of pure excitement, “Yes, Mommy.”

Her lips pressed against yours in a small peck, “Good girl, now take me upstairs.”

There was a hesitant tremor in your body as you picked up the older woman and carried her to your bedroom. You sat her down on the bed and stood in front of her, waiting for the next move. You were writhing around, your pussy was so wet.

"Did you enjoy fucking that blonde slut on this bed? This bed should only be used for pleasure if mommy allows it."

You shook your head, "No, mommy…"

"What about the other sluts you were fucking? Hmm, you had so many, didn't you? All blondes… I wonder why that was."

Your focus was divided between her questions and the hand she was using to tease you. Her hand found a path you desperately wanted to follow. From your chest to your pussy.

"No mommy, they couldn't satisfy me."

Wanda finally took a long step towards you, placing her hand on your chest. "And why is that, baby?"

Your breath hitched as she touched the band of your robe, threatening to take it off. Her delicate finger crept into your folds.

"Because only mommy can make me cum." She pinched your clit, making you whimper,

"Say it again."

"Only mommy can make me cum," Your voice rose an octave as Wanda thrust a finger into you.

There was a slightly sadistic look on her face at the sound of your cries. She bent down to her knees, pulling off your robe, leaving you completely naked to her. Her finger continued to attack your pussy.

"You're so tight, Detka, has no one put a finger inside you since mommy? Have you kept that pussy all pristine for me?" You were struggling to stand at this point.

The way she was talking to you along with her finger fucking was enough to make you fall apart. Wanda smacked your thigh firmly, making you jump in surprise,

"Mommy asked you a question." Your frantic eyes met hers,

"No, mommy, no one has touched me since you."

"Not even your pretty little finger has been in that pussy?" You shake your head,

"No, Mommy."

She takes this as a sign to shove 2 more fingers inside you, "Open that pussy for Mommy. When I'm done, that hole will be just right for Mommy."

You moaned at the way your pussy stretched for Wanda. You could feel the juices dripping out of you as Wanda worked her magic on you. You almost screamed when you felt a slap against your clittoris.

Although you couldn’t see her, you were sure the woman was smiling at your reaction. She continued to pound your clit hard to the point that your knees felt like they would give out at any moment.

“It’s like it’s the first time all over again. You can’t handle a simple caress and a slap on your pussy without your legs giving out. We’re going to have to retrain you after this,” the woman pushed you hard onto the bed.

Your hands were gripping the edge of the mattress as your legs dangled over the edge. Wanda settled herself between your knees.

Her hot breath teasing your pussy. She gave one last smack before closing her lips around your clit.

“Fuck, mommy!” Wanda giggled into your pussy, sending vibrations through your body.

Wanda used one hand to hold you down as she fingered and tongue fucked you. Your back was almost arched off the bed.

“Mmm, so sweet.” She murmured into your pussy. “Mommy missed that smell so much, that sticky little pussy of yours wetting my mouth.” Wanda ground her own pussy into the edge of the mattress, the friction sending tremors through her legs.

You wanted to close your legs because there was something building in the pit of your stomach.

You staggered up from your sitting position when Wanda removed all contact. It was like your eyes were going to pop out of your head.

There was a mischievous smile on her lips as she looked down at you.

“What’s wrong, Detka?”

Your body was shaking, yearning for your long-awaited release.

“Mommy, please.”

Wanda smiled even wider as she crawled on top of you, lining her pussy up with your fluid cunt. She was directly above you, her eyes looking playfully into yours,

“Please, what, huh? We’ve barely started, baby girl, you don’t want to cum now, do you?”

Wanda began to grind against you, making you both moan at the contact of your pussies together. The ease with which your clits met only showed that your bodies had met before—maybe in another life.

"I need to cum, Mommy. Please let me cum. Fuck, it's been too long…. I need my Mommy to make me cum, only Mommy can make me cum, please," you were desperate.

If you even tried to touch yourself without her permission right now, she would deny you. The best thing you could do was beg like the hungry slut you truly were.

She increased the friction against your pussy and a small cry escaped your lips. You demanded more, and Wanda knew it.

"Look at me," Wanda gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

She brushed your messy hair away from your face and placed a tender kiss on your forehead, "I've missed you so much, Y/N. I'm going to make you cum so hard. Do you know why?"

You shook your head, unable to speak. Tender moments during sex didn’t happen often between the two of you. So this was definitely new, and it was making your heart flutter.

She placed her forehead against yours, “Because I love you.” She moaned passionately, as if those words had been stuck in her throat for a long time. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed my perfect little slut? My little sneaky baby, huh?” Wanda continued to grind her hips against you, feeling her orgasm coming on herself.

“All I want to do is take care of you. I want to make you feel good because it makes me feel good.” She began to thrust harder against you.

You grab her face with both hands, crushing your lips against hers feverishly. She slumps against your body, so she’s no longer holding back.

You moan directly into her mouth as she begins to move more sporadically against you.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” the command was whispered in your ear, and that was all it took for you to cum.

Both of your bodies shook, and your arms flew around Wanda, pinning her in place. It felt like your entire body was spasming under the immense amount of pleasure.

Wanda placed soft kisses on the side of your neck as you began to regain your composure, “You’re my good girl. Cumming as soon as Mommy says you can.” You look so beautiful when you're under me like this, darling.

Wanda sighed, her fingers tracing small circles on your back, each gentle touch laden with a tenderness that felt almost reverent. Her breathing seemed calm, but you could feel the rapid pulse in her chest, as if her heart was struggling to break free from the walls her mind insisted on building. There was a raw vulnerability in the silence between you, a space where unspoken emotions seemed to take form.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you murmured, your voice thick as you buried your face in her shoulder. Every word felt like a battle against the tight knot in your throat, threatening to unravel into tears at any moment.

“I did too,” Wanda replied, her voice heavy with a weight only she could understand. Her lips brushed against the top of your head in a slow, almost hesitant kiss, as if she needed to confirm you were real. “And every day without you… felt like an eternity. A never-ending punishment.”

“I love you too, Wanda. That’s never changed.” The words came as a whisper but carried a devastating power. You didn’t need volume; the love pouring out of every syllable was enough to fill the void of the lost years.

Wanda froze for a moment, as if your confession had the power to split time in half. You hadn’t realized how tense she was until you felt her body relax against yours, a shaky breath escaping her lips. Slowly, she pulled away, rolling to her side until the two of you were face-to-face. Wanda’s face was an open book—hope, fear, and love colliding in a whirlwind of emotions.

“I have children,” she said finally, her voice low and raw, as if each word was a confession torn from her. Her gaze was piercing, searching yours as though bracing for judgment or hesitation.

“I know,” you said, your voice steady, a contrast to the delicate fragility of the moment. Your eyes held hers, offering the reassurance she seemed to desperately need.

“The divorce…” Wanda continued, her words almost a lament, “it might get messy. Ugly. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.” You squeezed her fingers gently, as if to say no obstacle would be big enough to separate you again.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was as if both hearts were readjusting their rhythms to beat in unison once more after so long out of sync. You brought your free hand to her face, gently caressing her warm, delicate skin.

“I’m here by your side, Wanda, no matter what happens. As long as you’re honest with me, I’m yours.”

Wanda blinked, her eyes glistening with tears she didn’t try to hide. “All mine…” she echoed, her voice almost a whisper, as though she couldn’t believe the words. A single tear slid down her cheek, and you wiped it away with your thumb, a simple gesture heavy with unspoken promises.

“Yes,” you reaffirmed, your voice soft but resolute. “Always yours.”

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, a determination shone in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. “I’m going to fight for this. For us. I’ll never let you go again.”

And so, in that room where time seemed to have stopped, you found each other once more. After five years of pain and distance, nothing felt more certain than the promise you now shared.

[...]

The irresistible aroma of roasted turkey wafted through the house, mingling with the scent of pumpkin pies and spices that promised a memorable dinner. Through the window, the golden light of an autumn evening softly spilled onto the dining room walls, painting everything with a warm, cozy glow. Sparky, ever vigilant for any sign of food, lay at the foot of the table, watching everyone’s movements like a little guardian.

“Tommy, if you put one more olive on that plate, I swear you won’t get dessert!” Wanda scolded, her voice filled with exasperation, though her eyes betrayed an amused glint.

“Mom, olives are the best part of dinner!” Tommy retorted, stacking a fourth olive in the corner of his plate as if building a tower. Billy, seated next to him, leaned in with a teasing grin.

“Let him be, Mom. At least that way he’s eating something, considering he always skips the vegetables.”

“I don’t skip them! I… selectively eat them,” Tommy corrected, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda ran a hand over her face, clearly resisting the urge to say more. She looked like the epitome of an exhausted mother: wrinkled apron, hair tied back in a hurried bun, and a furrow between her brows that revealed her struggle to keep everything under control. Watching from the kitchen as you sliced bread, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Relax, love. They’re just excited. It’s part of the holiday,” you said gently, crossing the space between the kitchen and the table with a plate of salad. Wanda turned toward you, her shoulders subtly relaxing at the sound of your voice.

“They’re going to drive me insane, that’s what’s going to happen,” she grumbled, though her words were tinged with affection.

Leaning in, you kissed her cheek, ignoring the muffled teasing coming from the boys.

“It’s only until dinner. I promise, after that, they’ll be calm and polite as angels.”

“Doubt it!” Billy called out loudly from across the table, laughing as Wanda narrowed her eyes at him.

Finally, everyone sat at the table, the golden turkey shining at the center, surrounded by colorful dishes: gratin potatoes, sautéed vegetables, pies, and sauces that completed the feast. Sparky, realizing it was mealtime, lay down again with an exaggerated sigh.

“Okay, kids, let’s give thanks for today,” you suggested, taking Wanda’s hand, who in turn took Tommy’s. The chain was formed. Billy glanced sideways at his brother before offering a small smile.

“I’m thankful for this new house and for Mom’s cooking,” Tommy said first, surprising everyone with his sincerity. Wanda blinked, clearly moved, but held herself together.

Billy, ever practical, smirked and said, “I’m thankful Sparky didn’t eat my snack this week. And for that pumpkin pie over there.”

Everyone laughed, breaking the momentary seriousness. Wanda squeezed your hand gently before speaking.

“I’m thankful for the family I chose and for the peace we have here. None of this would be possible without you.” She looked directly at you, her green eyes full of a tenderness that seemed to envelop her entirely.

You smiled, feeling your heart warm. “And I’m thankful for all of you. For being together, healthy, and happy. That’s all that matters.”

That night, as the boys slept in the room next door and Sparky snored at the foot of the couch, you and Wanda found each other in the small space of your new home, cups of tea in hand. The soft lights of the room illuminated only your faces, creating an intimate and cozy bubble.

“Do you realize we’re here now? Together. Like a family,” Wanda murmured, her voice tinged with a sweet incredulity. “I never imagined my life could be like this.”

“You deserve this, Wanda. You deserve love, you deserve peace.”

She smiled softly, her eyes glinting with some distant memory. “That trip to Paris… it was the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, fondly recalling the moment. Wanda thought you were taking her just to celebrate your vacation, but both of you had a secret plan. On the first night, under the illuminated Eiffel Tower, you took her to dinner, pulled a ring from your pocket, and knelt before her. Wanda’s smile and tears were enough to calm any nerves.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was that she also had a ring hidden in her bag.

“It’s funny how we proposed to each other at the same time,” you said, laughing softly.

“I knew we were meant to be; I just needed a ring to make it official,” Wanda joked, leaning into you.

The memories mingled with the present: family dinners, the twins’ laughter, Sparky’s innocent antics, and the love that overflowed in every touch and shared glance between you. Life went on, and that moment was just a snapshot of a story that would continue long after the readers’ eyes closed.

Destiny is a quiet and unpredictable force, weaving invisible threads between souls that, somehow, were meant to find each other. Sometimes, it acts as a whisper in the wind, a shared glance in a church that grows into a grand story, the kind so impactful they become unpublishable.

The best love stories are the ones eyes can’t read, the ones words aren’t enough to tell. They are the stories that are felt or dreamed.

Some loves are born as sparks: they shine brightly but end in the same breath that started them. Others, however, carry eternity in the eyes of those who live them. They are built over years, with patience, courage, and even silence. These loves withstand time, crossing generations, and when life ends, they find a way to continue. Perhaps in another era, perhaps in another skin, but never in another heart. Because there are loves that don’t belong to just one life. They belong to destiny, and destiny, however whimsical, always finds a way to perpetuate what was born to be eternal.

We are all like pieces of coins that children break in half as keepsakes—turning one into two, like flounders—and each of us is always searching for our corresponding half.

And so all this commotion is a relic of that original state of ours, from when we were whole, and now, when we long for and pursue that primordial wholeness, we say we are in love.

And that was it. You had found your other half. Wanda was your primordial wholeness, and you were hers. The world might change around you, but that—that silent and secure love between you—would remain, unbreakable as velvet chains.

~*~

Thankiuuu so much for you read Velvet Chains!!! YEYY

I hope the ending met your expectations!

I dunno if i'll write anything before Christimas, so... MERRY CHRISTMAS you gayyys!

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000

[rainydayathogwarts]

Polaroid Evidence pt.1 - Eddie Munson

Summary: Your brother Jonathan doesn't approve of your boyfriend even when he's always over, but your mom and younger brother love him. 0.8k wc Read pt.2 -> Here!

The first thing Joyce said when you admitted to dating Eddie was "Bring him around for dinner!" While Jonathan sulked quietly in the corner, definitely not expecting this reaction from your mum after having blackmailed you into telling her.

He'd been in the car with Will after school waiting for you to finish working on your english project when he got bored, eyes distractedly trailing to your bag sat in the passenger seat, completely zoned out of the story Will was recalling. Deciding to do what an older brother does, he dragged the bag over the controls and into his laps, snooping around for something good. Something secret. "Jonathan? What are you doing?" Noted Will, well aware of his sister's violated privacy. Fortunately, Jonathan found something better than a secret. He found evidence.

When his fingers grazed the familiar plastic of a polaroid image, he immediately pulled it out to see what it was, hiding it away from the sun's reflection in his palm. His eyes widened at the sight: Your arms wrapped around Eddie's neck, pulling him into a deep kiss, and Eddie's hands definitely too close to your ass, pressing your hips against his tightly. The date was marked in black sharpie underneath as '14.09.1986'. Last Friday.

"Is that Eddie Munson?" Jonathan felt Will's eyes widen from behind him, now gripping the car seat in front of him to help pull himself forward, observing the image in his brother's hands. "Y/N's dating him? Cool!" Jonathan grunted, tearing the photo out of Will's ray of vision. "No Will, not cool." Just as Will opened his mouth to ask why, the passenger's door slammed open, your voice filling up the small space almost immediately. "Hey... Jonathan." Will pushed himself back to sit flat against the car seat, preparing himself for another loud argument.

"What is that?" You seethed, lunging forward to snatch the photo out of Jonathan's hand, which he stuck out the window, away from your reach. "Why are you going through my things, you fucking asshole!" You yelled, grabbing your bag from your older brother's laps. "I told you I don't want you around him." He replied calmly, turning on the car's ignition. Since he was driving, he was safe from any more of your attacks. "What difference does that make? You think I'm gonna stop seeing someone because you don't like him?"

The hum that came out of Jonathan almost had you disregarding everyone in the car's safety, but you stayed put, taking a deep breath. "Well you know what? Will loves him." Jonathan scoffed, taking the polaroid out of his pocket. "Will doesn't know him. He just thinks he's cool." Turning the wheel, Jonathan pulled into the drive way, finally removing the key from the car, cutting its engine. "Well since you think he's the best person you could be dating and that your judgement is so great, how come mum doesn't know?" You tried for the printed image again, but gasped as the seatbelt locked you into place, pulling you back into the leather seat.

"You tell mum," he started, turning the picture in his hands with a wicked smirk. "Or I will." You groaned loudly, gathering your things before slamming the car door behind you as you exited, your younger brother following you instantly. "Y/N?" "I'm sorry you had to see that Will, but some times Jonathan just makes me want to rip my hair out." You stated, turning to face him.

"Why don't you want mum to know that you're with Eddie? And can I meet him?" You laughed at the end of his sentence, crouching down to meet his height. "Well I care a lot about mum's opinions, and if she doesn't like Eddie, it'll completely change my relationship with him. So I'm kind of scared to tell her about him because she only hears things about him. Things that might not be true." Will nodded seriously at your words, a grin immediately forming on his face when you added "And of course you can meet him."

When you trudged into the living room, Jonathan was being coddled by Joyce, the polaroid threateningly sticking out of his back pocket. You stealthily walked by him, trying to slip the image out of his pocket, but apparently you'd been too loud, and the older boy turned to face you just in time. "Hey mum." You greeted, accepting the hug she gave you, mentally preparing yourself to tell her about your scary boyfriend.

To your surprise, her first words had been "Eddie Munson? Well bring him around for dinner." When Jonathan's eyes shot wide open, exclaiming "What!?", she added "Anyone good enough for my daughter is good enough for me. I'd love to meet him." Your shoulders dropped in relief and you sighed in relief. However when Jonathan added "Well let's invite Hopper for dinner too then! He's pretty much part of the family." It was your turn for your eyes to widen as your mum agreed, the knowledge of your drug dealing boyfriend around the chief of police at Hawkins sending a chill down your spine.

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face (Pt.4) | Home

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: after eight months, you and Tara are closer than ever. Her playful texts pull you away from a project, and you spend the night cuddling, reassuring her you're not going anywhere.

word count: 981

a/n: hi guys this is literally so short bc I didn't want to ruin it + I'm already working on another part for who hurt you. this can read as a oneshot by itself hence the extra title; anyways I hope u guys like it, any feedback is appreciated and I'm proud of myself for figuring out how to do this collage thing below xoxo

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

It’s been 8 months since you and Tara went on your first date and started dating; since then, you’ve shared countless memories, learned more about each other than you ever expected, and your bond only has deepened, making you both excited to see what the future holds together. There’s been a mix of growth, fun and intimate moments; and although there’s a few challenges, there’s always playfulness and banter in the relationship. 

Tonight, you’re focused on finishing your project, eager to submit it at least a day before the deadline so you won’t have to rush and send in poor quality work. But then, a ping on your phone distracts you.

Tara <3

can you come over? i miss you and I’m bored

Sent at 11.45pm

You

sorry babe, I can’t. i have a project due in a few days

Sent at 11.47pm

Tara <3

guess i’ll just sit in bed..alone,cold

all by myself

w nobody to cuddle with. allll alone

You

oh shut up I’m putting my shoes on

Sent at 11.55pm

This usual banter happens often. Honestly, you didn’t mind how clingy Tara is, you knew what the younger Carpenter has been through. She decided to let you know about her past after a month of dating, with what happened to her and the core four a year ago; and you comforted her with cuddles and kisses with soft whispers for being brave and having to go through all of that.

It’s almost midnight, but the way Tara’s playful messages cut through the tranquil night, it’s hard not to smile. You know her well enough to recognize when she’s pretending to be dramatic—and when she’s genuinely feeling a little lonely or vulnerable.The little banter between the two of you has become a ritual, a comfort. But beneath it all, there’s that deep understanding of each other’s lives, pasts, and fears. You know Tara’s history, and you know she’s been through a lot. You could never understand how anyone would willingly put her in harms way. A single glance from her could make you melt into a puddle, as if the weight of the world disappeared in the softness of her eyes, leaving you both grounded and utterly undone at the same time.

 You know that when you get to her place, all the tension in your body will melt away. As you head out, a small part of you can’t help but reflect on how far you’ve both come in just eight months—how much you’ve both grown together. Every little moment, where you can simply drop everything and be there for each other, makes all the difference.

Tara’s got a special place in your heart, and tonight, it’s all about making her feel seen, heard, and loved. For so long, the idea of "home" felt like a distant concept, something that belonged to a life you couldn’t fully reclaim after your parents passed. You thought you’d never feel settled again, that kind of deep connection, the feeling of being truly seen and understood. But with Tara, it’s different. It’s effortless, the way she makes you feel both grounded and free. Her presence fills spaces in your heart you didn’t know were empty.

As you may your way to her place, a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips. It’s funny how simply being with her, in her space, cuddling under the blankets, or sharing small moments of laughter, feels more like home than anything else ever has. When you knock on her door, she’s already standing there, as if she already felt your presence from a block away; wrapped in a blanket, her hair falling messily around her face, and that familiar twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “You’re late,” she teases, her voice a soft mixture of playfulness and a hint of relief. Ever since you both got together, Tara’s been more anxious, fearing that Ghostface might pop out and take you from her. She’s expressed her concerns to you, and you’ve made sure to constantly remind her that you aren’t going anywhere. “I’m not going anywhere, Tara— you’re stuck with me, no matter what.” Besides, you don’t mind constantly texting her and sending pictures of whatever you’re up to.

“Lay with me? Please?” You fold almost instantly, allowing her to pull you into her bedroom while making sure to keep quiet, since Sam is asleep. Just as you settle onto her bed beside her, Tara does her little grabby hands and you pull her against you, her legs over yours and hugged your torso, resting her head and smiling into your shoulder, inhaling your scent as she had always associated you with safety. You smiled fondly, caressing her thigh with your hand before leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. Tara’s eyes fluttered at the gesture, and you can feel your heart soar at how adorable she is.

“I love you, so, so much. Did you know that?” You whispered close to her forehead. The warmth of your whisper sent a gentle shiver down her spine. “I know, but I don’t mind hearing you say it again, and again..” You chuckled softly at her statement.

“I don’t mind it either, because I’ll keep saying it; every day if I have to” You smiled softly, the words lingering between you.

Before you could say more, she pressed her lips to yours, soft and gentle—the familiar taste of cherry from her lip balm making you sigh in content. The kiss was warm, comforting, like coming home. When she pulled back, her eyes fluttered open, a shy smile tugging at her corner of her lips. “I love you more,” she whispered, her breath mingling with yours.

It was safe to say that you didn’t manage to finish your project anytime soon. But with Tara in your arms, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

--------------------

a/n: i hope this is enough for ya'll bc i literally couldn't figure out a way to continue without it being too draggy and boring. fyi 'who hurt you' pt 2 should be coming out in 2 days hopefully idk AND idk how this taglist thing works so lmk if you'd be interested in it

taglist: @bella423

[suni-writings]

Running out of time. | part 3

jude bellingham x fem!reader

When two people who didn’t know how to love met at the perfect timing to ruin each other.

part 1 | part 2

wc: 2.9k

(content warning: angst, troubled relationships, situationship, slight mention of suggestive content, [sort of] unrequited feelings, hurt/comfort)

hope you enjoy this last part as much as i enjoyed writing this little story. don't forget that requests are open!

‘hey :)’

‘gonna keep leaving me on read?’

‘guess I’ll keep your coat with me’

She sighed when she read the texts. Jude was trying to reach out to her every day. Of course, his scene at the bar was more than enough to keep the man she was seeing far away from her. On one hand, it was Jude’s fault. Who would want to be Jude Bellingham’s competition? On the other hand, it was her fault. Her fault because she not only listened to his words, but also obeyed him. One thing Jude got right — it seemed like they weren’t done. Not yet at least.

She thought she was over him; she really did. She had put her life back on tracks — everything she had left on hold because of whatever happened between her and Jude, she went back. To her numerous projects, to her podcast, to writing articles about sports. To her friends, that she seemed to have disappeared a little bit of their lives. To focusing on her upcoming university semester, which, despite the good grades the previous semester, they could be better.

She had liked Jude wholeheartedly, she believed. She could have ended up loving him, if things had kept flowing the way they did when they were alone. She had allowed him to come over to his place, to know her routine, to know her. Told about her life, about her previous relationships, about everything that hurt her. She allowed him into his life with open arms, with him saying he would always be honest with her. Not that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he would be honest.

Hurt was something that came with liking someone; it was inevitable, especially when it came to her. Anxiety always took over her whenever it was about romantic matters, as if searching for any excuse to jump off; to just not be there, to not be vulnerable, to not allow anyone in. To be alone, something she had mastered.

She had trusted Jude, and he broke her trust. It was as simple as that. And now, he was trying to right his wrongs.

And she was confused; she didn’t know exactly how she felt about him. She had spent over a month assuming things about him, ruining the previous image she had of him being someone she could rely on, someone nice, someone that cared about her. It was replaced with thoughts of him being a selfish, almost sadistic person, as if he wanted to see her feeling bad — although she never gave him the delight of knowing how much harm he had caused.

Now, it was hard to identify the person he was being, to the person he was, to the person she assumed he was. The lines seemed blurred, and she didn’t have any evidence to support any feelings besides his ridiculous attempts of making conversation. It truly surprised her that he didn’t attempt to come over, respecting her privacy and her desire to be far away from him.

Perhaps, that said something about him.

Her phone buzzed again, and she rolled her eyes as another text popped up on her screen.

‘texting you before the match’

‘need my lucky charm’

‘can you reply at least once?’

‘can you fuck off?’

‘well, better than nothing’

‘hi, princess’

‘when are you giving me my coat back?’

‘does that mean you want to see me?’

‘no’

‘I’ll return it when you want to see me’

‘I might hate you, you know’

‘nah, you don’t’

The way he could easily get reactions out of her was annoying. She was so used to being logical, to keeping her composure, to being someone who would hardly react to anything at all. And yet, ever since they broke thing off, he could get her snapping in a matter of seconds. She knew Jude liked it — perhaps, it was his way of knowing she still felt something, despite not even her knowing what she felt.

She didn’t want to let him in once again, since she didn’t have the assurance that she wouldn’t be wrecked again. And being his friend was out of the picture – she couldn’t even think about the hypothesis. Jude knew her body with the back of his hand and the tip of his tongue. Not to mention how hurtful it would be if he ended up treating her better than he did when they were together.

She couldn’t afford to be hurt again.

So, she just decided to postpone whatever conversation they could have and slowly digest her feelings about what happened, about what was happening and about how they were. Associating the past to the present before deciding.

It was a quiet night; she didn’t like nights like those because it gave too much room for her thoughts. She tried distracting herself by reading, trying to watch something and even cooking — only to watch her fail every single one of her attempts. Jude was constantly on her mind, especially now that he had stopped texting her for a week.

Maybe he had given up.

Maybe he had found someone else.

Maybe he realized how famous he is and how he doesn’t need you at all.

Every single thought of hers, when it came to him, seemed too hurtful. She didn’t even know why she was so pressed that he wasn’t texting anymore when she had only been leaving him on read. Did she care? Was it bruised ego, or did she actually have some hope? She didn’t have an answer for any of her questions.

When she heard a knock on her door, she didn’t realize how late it was or how, in no way, it could be one of her friends deciding to bother her because she hadn’t been replying. That happened whenever she was too contemplative, and they were used to that. She just automatically opened the door and her eyebrows raised at the sight.

Jude was standing there, with a grey sweater and matching sweatpants, and a black beanie on. She was taken aback, suddenly remembering how comfortable he used to dress whenever he would come over, because he felt comfortable with her.

“You’re drunk.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement. She was sure she could tell if Jude was drunk or not from a mile away — he would always have a huge grin on his face, his eyes would become smaller, and he would always tilt his head whenever someone would speak to him. And, of course, the fact that he wouldn’t be standing there if it wasn’t for the alcohol.

“I scored the last match, the one I texted you before,” he said, his voice slightly dragged. He was drunk, but not that much. Good to know. “Did you watch it?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, leaning her head on her doorframe.

“I didn’t,” she confessed. Why did she feel bad about that?

“You didn’t,” he echoed and licked his lips. “I scored.”

“I know,” she replied. Every time he scored ended up all over the internet. There was way she wouldn’t know.

“For you, I mean. I blew a kiss to the camera, but I know you wouldn’t see it. Not when you didn’t even want to reply to me.”

Guilt washed all over her, even if she knew Jude didn’t blame her at all. He knew he was just dealing with the consequences of his actions, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Then again, what would ever stop Bellingham from trying anything? He was used to falling and getting up. To losing and keeping his head up.

Maybe that’s what he meant when he said he’d show me what’s in store if I wanted war, she thought. He knew he had lost the battle, but not the war.

The cold breeze blowing on her face brought her back to reality, and she realized she couldn’t leave him on her doorstep. She could, actually, but it wouldn’t be right of her. Not when he was drunk, vulnerable and something could happen. She’d rather have him inside her house than to let him wander the streets in that state, given who he was.

“Jesus, Jude,” she sighed, shaking her head and signaling him to come in, which he happily obliged. He stumbled until he managed to find his way to her couch. “Are you cold?”

“Not at all,” he shook his head and she nodded. “But could you just— sit next to me? Please.”

Truth be told, she never had to deny him much stuff. But she had learned that, even the little things she had to deny seemed hard to say no. And she found herself once again, in the same situation. She knew she could get hurt.

And yet.

Maybe there was a reason why she couldn’t deny him that. A reason why her feet were making their way to him, despite her heart pounding in anxiety and fear. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason why she was choosing to walk to him instead of succumbing to her fears and shutting him off.

As she sat next to him, she noticed the way he looked at her; even drunk, it seemed like he was analyzing and memorizing every detail, every freckle, every single portion of her face. As if he didn’t know when it would happen again.

How wrecking must it be to adore someone and not being able to see them; to yearn in silence. To accept the fate and not try to change it. To accept any crumble that could come to you, because it would be better than nothing. Because even hurt would be better than indifference.

Amongst many things she had learned about Jude, she knew he didn’t accept fate. He didn’t believe in it. He believed he had control over his choices and everything that happened after that were nothing but consequences, which he could also change the course of. It hurt seeing someone who was always so self-assured suddenly show such an insecurity.

However, that was something she would’ve never noticed if she didn’t know him that much.

“I like you,” Jude said, still looking at her. For once, it didn’t seem blurted out — no, it seemed like something he had been thinking about for a long time. Nothing like the other times she heard that, no spontaneity in his voice. “So much. Hence why I tried so hard to at least get you to talk to me. It’s not about not being able to live without you, it’s about knowing my life could be so much better with you in it. Although, I must admit, I don’t do a pretty good job living without you.”

She stood quiet, suddenly catching herself also analyzing his features. He was still as beautiful as she remembered, unfortunately.

“I hurt you, I get it. I do. I broke your trust and, apparently, I can’t win it back. I’m in a losing battle every time I even think of texting you,” Jude let out a sad chuckle, his hand caressing her cheek softly, as if she could disappear at any moment. “I like that about you. Your judgment of knowing what serves you and what doesn’t. You said you weren’t the love of my life, but God, you could be. I’ve felt like I was too young to say that out loud, but it’s hard to not have thee thoughts when I’m miserable without you around.”

There was so much she wanted to say; like everything he said could just be a result of his wounded ego, or that she only served to caress his ego. Like it didn’t make any sense to her him even considering her the love of his life after how things had played out between them. But above all, she wanted to say how much her judgment was broken, because, at that moment, she didn’t know if she was doing what served her or not.

But, instead, she just leaned her cheek against his hand and gently shook her head.

“You’re drunk, Jude,” she whispered. “You have no idea of what you’re saying.”

“I’m not that drunk. Just enough to gather courage to come up to your house and overstepping a boundary. I know I overstepped on a lot of your boundaries that day at the nightclub, but I was also aware of how much it hurt you. I wouldn’t even think of not leaving you alone if I didn’t drink, and I really need to pour out my heart to you. If this must be my last attempt, then so it be. But just listen to me, please.” He begged her. It broke her heart to see that, in the end, he was just as wounded as she was.

They had met each other at the perfect timing to ruin each other; when neither of them wanted anything serious, when neither of them could commit to one another. When both of them were so bruised by past relationships that it’d blind the present and destroy what they were building. At least, that was how she saw it. She knew she had barely let herself enjoy it, always waiting to be hurt, always wanting to predict so she could leave before.

What a pathetic, yearning mess they had become.

“Okay,” she nodded slowly as his thumb ran through her cheek. “I’ll listen.”

He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes, admiring their shade and getting lost for a moment.

“My mum always told me that what was meant to be mine, would be mine. Close to the ‘what’s bound to happen, will happen’ kind of discourse, but not quite. The same way she always told me that what goes around always finds its way back around,” he tilted his head and sighed. “I know I’m paying for what I did; I don’t blame you for acting the way you have been or for trying to get over me because I’d do the same. I’d get over you if I could. But my mind just assumes that you’re meant to be mine. That, if I work hard enough, if I show my efforts, if I keep falling and getting up, at some point you’ll see that too. But it’s not football, you’re not a prize and I’m not really taking what you feel into consideration when I think that way.”

His hand traveled from her cheek to her hair, gently caressing it.

“The truth is, I can’t get over you. And I’ve been trying to right my wrongs, but at the end of the day, it’s all up to you. Despite of what I do and what I don’t, it’s your call. I’ve been at your mercy for so long and I don’t even think you’ve realized that,” he spoke, his voice shaking. She had never seen him so vulnerable. “I’d do anything to have you with me once again. I never took you for granted, though I know it seemed that way. I knew what I had; I knew I wouldn’t find better. You had warned me. I adored you then, but I let everything get in the way, my job, my past, my insecurities and I ended up wounding you. I made some decisions I regret, I acted selfish, but I swear to God, I still adore you. Even more than I did back then. It’s so much more than liking and I’m tired of pretending like it isn’t. Of acting nonchalant about it. If you’d ask me to commit here and now, I would. I would promise I’d never break your trust again if you’d let me in.”

He looked into her eyes once again.

“I’m at your fucking mercy,” he whispered. “And, looking back, I don’t think there ever was a moment I wasn’t.”

Jude’s words flooded her senses. As she tried to digest, she realized she knew the answer to this all along. She knew the answer when she suggested a break to be considerate about his feelings; she knew the answer when he had walked up to her while she was with someone else, and she didn’t ignore him. She knew the answer when she obeyed his only request. But especially, she knew the answer from the moment she had chosen to sit next to him instead of making him leave; the moment she chose a maybe instead of a certainty and let him stay.

In a loss for words, she suddenly held him tight. Dumbfounded, it took a while for him to wrap his arms around her; however, when he did, his head fell to the crook of her neck, and he inhaled her scent he had missed so much as she kissed the top of his head. The yearning and the waiting were so much that she didn’t even realize what she was missing until he held him again, a single tear falling down her face.

“Jude?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah?” Jude replied, leaning away just enough to look at her face and wipe the tear with a concerned glance.

“Do you think you can repeat all of that to me tomorrow, when you’re sober?” She asked and his face lit up.

“Tomorrow. The next day. The day after. Whenever you want me to say it.” He replied with a huge, genuine smile as his arms were still wrapped around her waist. She knew she would be fine. She knew they would be fine.

For once, she chose her peace instead of battling wars inside her head. For once, she chose her emotions against her logic. For once, she was willing to not run away.

“I’m not letting you go again.”

[mangohgeckoh]

Pirate!Silco x Mermaid! Reader

A/N: You asked and I delivered! Fair warning: I do not guarantee that I will be updating this fic as frequently as my current ongoing one: Chemical Reaction, but I do already have plot lined up and 5 chapters with 4k+ words within each one. Unlike CR, this will only be posted on Tumblr.

Tags and warnings: NSFW, smut, MDNI, fluff, nudity, betrayal, violence, interspecies relationship

-

A quick thank you: Thank you to anyone who commented and voted on my original post! Here are the lovely people who were enthusiastic enough about the project to comment on the original post: @sarynnah @pinklunarprincess @teriyakiitae @bloodyshadow737

I hope this lives up to your expectations!

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Gunpowder and Green Shells

Chapter 1

1781

Curtains of light cerulean danced underneath the dark waves. Moonlight pierced through the waves in small increments while a prominent trail of red followed the body descending the depths. Bubbles outlined the body as the ocean began to accept it, the surface becoming a faint memory.

The part of the ocean you had called home was littered with shipwrecks and discarded items that those above kept losing. Your residence was in between two warring islands, a very poor choice for a place to live. But the ocean floor you had chosen as your territory had not been a battle zone between the two islands when you claimed your place among the wreckage. Why leave an area so abundant with shiny objects and food? In the past you attempted to leave for the open ocean, but was almost eaten by a larger creature.

So you were content with your choice.

Somewhat.

It was quite lonely for you, but you always blamed where you lived. Still, no other creature resembles your half fish-half woman body. It presented many complications, namely the inability to communicate with the sealife.

But a very odd smell wafted through your gills while they filtered the water in and out of your system. Blood. Curiosity and animalistic desire snapped you out of your monotonous routine.

Your powerful tail propelled your body with a sideways motion, following the smell of human blood out of the dark depths of your home. Your body halted at the silhouette of a man drifting in the salty water above you. He seemed lifeless as blood streamed from his eye in a disturbing dance.

Another victim of war perhaps?

You swam above him, turning to get a better look of his features. The unharmed eye of his was closed, undoubtedly weighted by the water surrounding him. Body hovering over his own, enthralled in seeing a human man for the first time, you surrendered to the stillness of the ocean. Your eyes danced around his body, since this was your first time seeing a human up close, you were naturally curious. Not feeling your body move, you felt your webbed hand becoming drawn to his face. What does human skin feel like? You pondered.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a sharp kick to the jaw made your body thrash from his body. The man, who turned out to be very much alive, was fighting against the cold water. Testing the damage, you moved your bruised jaw around as he tried to swim away from you. The man hardly covered any distance and you watched as his movements started to dull.

Oh.

Oh!

Remembering that humans live above water, they must need air! Your tail thrashed against the water, propelling you past him. The man’s body fought against your grip as you swam as fast as you could to the surface. Despite his flailing, you sensed his life diminishing as he’d been without air for a dangerous amount of time.

After a final thrash of your tail, you had breached the surface. Rain splattered against your skin and your gills closed at the contact of air. Your grip under the man’s arms tightened and you hoisted his body so his face had emerged from the water. His unharmed eye was intense, staring into your own. You had no idea if his lungs was registering air, but his gaze weakening confirmed that something was wrong.

Quickly, you recalled a few sea stacks near the coast of Zaun which a sea cave resided in. The time that it took for you to race there must have been record-breaking, but that wasn’t what you were concerned about. What concerned you was the man’s skin now starting to pale.

His body was difficult to push onto the shore of the cave, his clothes catching the sand of the cave. But with one final push, his body was completely out of the water. Now it was time for you to figure out how to tend to him without drying out. The position your body found itself in was also awkward, your tail looped and winded into the water while your stomach was laid flat against the sand. You’d never been on land before, and the consequences were unknown. But finally you had something to break you out of your normal routine, and you’d be damned if you had to return to eating crabs in the depths.

Time was being lost, so you crawled with your front arms to reach his body. Suddenly, once your tail lost contact with the foamy water, you felt the air dry your tail. It was a strange feeling, as you watched the grey scales of your tail recede into what now look like human legs. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself not to get distracted.

You never walked on human legs before so you crawled to meet his face, which still proved to feel very unnatural. Your ear met his chest, just above where his heart should be.

Quiet.

He was dead.

Your fascination with humankind cost this man’s life. If only you weren’t so easily distracted. “Why am I like this?” You whispered to yourself as you watched his skin dull in pigment, the life finally leaving his body. A stinging sensation made your eyes burn, wiping them you found that they were wet. You had heard of tears before but assumed that only humans could produce such a strange liquid. The strange feeling continued until tears streamed down your cheeks, light twinkling in them. You watched as some fell onto the man’s face, but were perplexed when they suddenly absorbed into his pale skin.

When a few more tears fell onto his cheek, your hand reached out to smear the wet against his skin. It was the sudden movement of his chest that startled you. His eye was still closed when water forced its way out of his mouth as he began to violently cough. Spooked, you quickly found shelter in the water, your tail returning and making contact with the water.

Your head barely broke the water as you watched the man from the shore. He was still retching the salt water onto the beach, his body’s desperate attempt to empty out his lungs. Interest captivated you as your eyes followed his hand, slicking back his soaked black hair. It was mid length and had bits of seaweed tangled within it. The man’s hand hovering over his injured eye made you notice that the fresh wound had completely disappeared. Granted, there were still large slashes passing through his eye, but they looked healed.

Your mind had drifted off again, this time to the peculiarity of his injury miraculously healing, to notice that the man had spotted you.

The glint of a dagger shined in your eyes. You were still a bit off shore, just enough to allow your top half to be pressed against the sand, your back beneath the water, only leaving your face visible.

The man’s intense gaze returned as he clutched the dagger, pointing it intently at you. The slit pupils of your eyes studied his face. He was a beautiful example of his species. He had a pointed chin, and sharp cheekbones framing his thin face. It wasn’t the way his lips curled into a scowl, or the way his wet locks stuck to his face, that intrigued you the most.

No.

It was his eyes. They were stunning. You were sure you’d seen the color of his unharmed eye before in the ocean but couldn’t quite place it.

The words blurted through your sharp triangle-shaped teeth. “Seashell.”

Dagger lowering slightly, the man was caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?” An eyebrow raised as your head emerged slightly from the water.

Excitement washed over you. “I just now remembered where I’ve seen your eye color before!” You say proudly. The man didn’t look at all impressed, more like he was bored. Your eyes locked as you slowly descended back into the water. “Stay. Right. There.”

With a flick of your tail, you turned around and rushed out of the shore. You were quick to scour the reefs that lined the shore. They weren’t as active and diverse as the ones near Piltover, but you knew they had what you were looking for. A shell, that was blue-green in color, caught your eye. “Gotcha!” Your words were muffled as you were well under water.

To your surprise, the man was still there. This time, though, he had torn a piece of fabric from his shirt to cover his eye in a make-shift eye patch.

The seafoam green shell clicked against the back of the man’s head, startling him. “Sorry!” You apologized from the safety in the water. Apparently throwing was not a skill of yours.

His eye scrutinized the seashell that he caught in his palms. You watched him from the safety of the cave’s mouth as his lips parted. Before he could say anything, a large gurgle coming from his stomach interrupted him. Your lips curled in a smile, knowing exactly how to help. Though the man didn’t seem to appreciate the toothy smile, he stayed put when all he could see was your tail smacking against the surface.

Since the organisms on the menu for you were usually crustaceans and seaweed, you did know how to kill a fish or two. So when you found a fish, catching it within your jaws was like second nature.

Your body curled sideways, following the movement from your large tail as you made your way back to the sea cave.

“Food.” Your words were barely comprehensible as your voice was muffled by the fish in your mouth.

This time, the man was occupied with building a pile of driftwood. It was clear that he didn’t know how to label you. For all he knew, you could've just been a strange woman who saved him just to rob him. His eye was heavy with exhaustion as it watched tentatively while he made his way to where you were.

Your bottom half was still submerged under water, while your chest was barely covered by the foamy surface. This fish laid limp in your jaws as you watched him slowly approach.

His thin lips parted as he made to reach for the fish. “Who are-” You raised your body off the sand, to make it easier to reach but in doing so your top half was now completely exposed.”Naked!” The man hopped backwards, startled. Not knowing where to look, his eye darted all over the cave, so he could look anywhere but your body.

Your lips formed a frown. “Naked?” You looked down to your chest. Yes, you did indeed possess human breasts but human males can be seen without wearing any kind of clothing on their chests on ships, why was this any different? Shaking your head, you laughed. “You’re mistaken. For one to be naked they have to have the need to wear clothes.” Water trickled from your tail as you lifted it out of the water. “I don’t wear such.”

Stumbling backwards, the man fell onto his arse as he snarled. “Stay away from me!” His movements were sharp and quick as he tried to put as much distance between him and you as possible.

The fish dropped from your jaws as he started to kick sand at your body as a threat. Startling from the intimidation, you swerved backwards into the water. You knew humans were…delicate with their emotions as well as how they perceived unusual events.

Though this did rub you the wrong way, making you feel a little hurt due to the sand now stinging your skin. But you knew one thing about humans…

They loved to eat.

-

Silco’s POV:

Body aching, Silco finally amassed enough wood for a proper fire to ensure he doesn't freeze to death tonight. His good eye kept glancing over at the mouth of the sea cave where the creature was once laying.

His teeth gritted. ‘What the hell was happening?’ Today had happened too fast. His lungs still clogged with ash from one of Piltover’s warships. Skin burned in patches around his body where the cannon balls struck the ship, causing the wood to splinter into any skin that wasn’t covered by fabric.

Vander.

Silco felt his throat tighten at the memory. Arms grabbed my throat, holding my body in the air.

His jagged teeth gritted as he recounted how his friend, comrade and…brother, discarded him in the sea like old ale.

Skin splitting under his dagger, stabbing through his eye before flinging his wounded body into the sea.

A yawn escaped Silco’s dry mouth as he tried to fight the feeling of sleepiness taking over. He knew he had to stay strong, to not fall asleep. There are monsters in these waters, after all. But the fire he had just lit and was now huddled near was all too enticing…

Sun penetrated through his eyelid while an odd smell crept its way to his nose. Silco woke up to see the sunrise making the large stack of fish next to him glow.

And he could of sworn that he saw that creature again, diving back into the sea.

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

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Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up early- too early. Anticipation buzzed in your veins leaving your mind reeling and falling back asleep impossible. The entire team had felt it. Something big was in the works.

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before. “Y/N, come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details to discuss.” Her tone was commanding. This wasn’t a favour—it was an order, and orders like these, given late at night with no one around, usually meant trouble.

So you’d woken up early, made some breakfast, and finished your morning workout, all before the sun had even risen. You were absolutely going to regret this later when you were struggling to stay awake at your desk.

The dim glow of the tactical display flickered across the room, casting shadows along the walls. You sat across from Captain Jenna, her eyes sharp and assessing as usual, the weight of authority resting heavily on her shoulders. This wasn’t your first mission briefing, but something about this one felt different- heavier- more dangerous.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a small datapad in her hand, swiping through it with deliberate motions. "The N109 zone," she began, not looking up.”What do you know about it?”

“Ermm, not much. I’ve heard rumours, of course and read about it but I’ve not had any first-hand experience,” You replied, confused by the line of questioning.

Jenna continued, "It’s a place where most don’t survive long, especially outsiders. You’ve been recommended for a mission there, but I need to know you understand what you’re walking into."

Your fingers twitched in your lap. "I’ve read the reports. I think I understand how it all works out there."

"Reports don’t do it justice." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for debate. She tapped a button on the pad, and a holographic image of the N109 zone projected into the air between you. The image showed sprawling clusters of decrepit structures and seedy underground hubs. It looked almost abandoned but you knew from the reports that the N109 zone was far from empty. "The N109 zone is a black market for mercenaries, smugglers, and all types of criminals. At the centre of it all, is one man, controlling the whole thing. The N109 zone’s very own king, Sylus Qin."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Everyone in the association knew of Sylus, but few had seen him in person. His reputation preceded him: cold, ruthless, and always five steps ahead of his enemies. He’d been the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone.

Captain Jenna finally looked up from her pad, her gaze calculating. “The higher-ups have requested that you take on the mission to bring him to justice- finally. I personally recommended you for the job and my petition was accepted.”

Sylus, the most dangerous and infamous criminal in the N109 zone, known for being a manipulative and ruthless leader. And you were meant to capture him. The shock was clear on your face.

Jenna switched off the projection and fixed you with a steely gaze. "This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t- get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. "And then, you will bring him to us. Quietly."

You blinked, the enormity of the task settling like a lead weight in your chest. "And then what? We arrest him?"

"Exactly. Once you have his trust, you’ll lead him to the extraction point, where other hunters will take over. Sylus has committed too many atrocities- smuggling, trafficking, assassinations. He needs to face justice. But if he even suspects for a second that you’re a threat, this mission will end in your death. Sylus doesn’t forgive betrayal."

A cold knot of apprehension twisted in your gut. "I’ve never operated in the N109 zone before. I know what people say about it…"

Jenna tapped the table, cutting through your uncertainty with her no-nonsense tone. "You were selected because of your history. You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, and never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. But understand this, this isn’t just about gathering intel, it’s about infiltrating his inner circle, making him believe he can trust you."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each one pressing against your already fraying nerves. "He’s known for reading people. How am I supposed to fool him?"

Jenna didn’t smile, but her eyes softened- just a touch. "You’ll have to earn his trust, slowly. Get into his good graces by being useful. You’ve got…skills he needs. Play into that. But be warned…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a quiet, ominous tone. "Sylus is like no one you’ve faced before. He’s calculated, ruthless. If you slip up, even for a second, he’ll see through you. Use your wits… and if needed, your feminine wile” She trailed off, the insinuation heavy in the air.

A chill ran down your spine. You’ve heard the stories—how Sylus has taken down entire syndicates without lifting a finger, how he can dismantle a person with just his words, let alone the brutal efficiency with which he handles his enemies. The thought of trying to seduce him was almost laughable—and terrifying.

"And the Association is sure this will work?" you asked, your voice a little thinner than you intended.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear—they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, though your mind swirled with doubt. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. We’ll provide your equipment and, when the time is right, we have an alias waiting for you"

The silence that followed is suffocating, the gravity of the mission pressing down on you. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this—whether anyone could be. But then the adrenaline kicked in, and stirred something inside you - a challenge.

"I understand." You managed to say, your voice firmer than before.

Jenna stood, motioning toward the door, her expression softening just a fraction. "Your mission begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself. You’ll be alone in the field, and once you’re in his world, there’s no turning back."

You rose from your chair, nerves and determination churning inside you. "I’ll bring him in."

Jenna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "See that you do."

As you walked out of the room, your mind spun with the weight of the task ahead. Sylus wasn’t just a target; he was the most dangerous man you’d ever been assigned. And now, you were supposed to deceive him, to lead him into a trap- you couldn’t afford a single mistake.

The dim glow of neon lights and the low hum of music created a relaxed atmosphere in the small bar you and your colleagues gathered. It was a spot you’d claimed long ago after gruelling days of training or missions, a place for deepspace hunters to unwind.

Tara draped her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand, and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She pulled you in tight and whispered in your ear excitedly "Y/N, you’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it." she whispered his name even quieter, as if saying it too loudly would summon him or something.

You let out a laugh, though it felt a little forced. "I’m not even sure why they picked me for this." It was true- despite Jenna’s recommendation, there were many, more experienced, higher-level hunters that had been put forward. So, why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take on that zone and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot. I swear, if you get up close and personal, you better tell me everything."

Xavier flashed you a horrified glance as you rolled your eyes, feeling part of the tension start to loosen and another begin to build. "It’s not like that, Tara."

"Oh, but it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

"Please." You cut her off, shaking your head, but the smile on your face grows a little wider and you allow yourself a slight giggle. Tara had always known how to make light of things, even dangerous missions. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been close for so long—she knew how to distract you when you started overthinking.

Xavier’s voice cut through the banter, calm but carrying a note of something unspoken. "Just… be careful." He sat across from you, nursing his drink, his eyes more focused on the table than the conversation. "The N109 zone isn’t like your other missions. You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of his concern. Xavier had always been protective, but something about his tone made you shift uneasily in your seat. "I know. I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it."

Tara leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes at Xavier. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. Y/N’s a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, no matter how hot he is."

You chuckled, but Xavier’s frown deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone. I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, stirring the drink in front of you. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change.

Tara piped up again, grinning mischievously. "Gaining his trust… that’s one way to put it." She started humming a tune under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You laughed, shaking your head as Tara continued, her voice light and teasing. The absurdity of the moment felt like a balm to your nerves, even if the reality of the mission loomed large.

But Xavier wasn’t amused. His gaze flicked from Tara back to you, softer now, tinged with something deeper than concern. "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes, the weight of his words hanging between you. He’d always been this way- cautious, protective, lingering on the edge of something he could never quite say. As much as you appreciated it, part of you bristled at the overprotectiveness.

"I won’t," you replied, keeping your tone light despite the pressure of his gaze on you.

Tara, blissfully unaware of the tension, clinked her glass against yours. "Cheers to Y/N! Bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal in the galaxy- and living to tell the tale!"

You shook your head again, but this time, the laugh was genuine. "You’re impossible."

"Someone has to keep things fun around here," she quipped, leaning back in her chair with a wide grin.

The conversation shifted, drifting away from the seriousness of the mission, and for a while, you let yourself get swept up in the celebration. But even as laughter and banter filled the air, you couldn’t shake the undercurrent of doubt creeping back in. Why had Captain Jenna really picked you? You weren’t the most experienced hunter. Others had more field time in the N109 zone and more reason to be chosen.

You glanced over at Xavier again, once again, finding his eyes already fixed on you. There was something unsaid there, a worry that ran deeper than his words, it made you uncomfortable.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he raised his glass, his voice soft. "To your success. And your safety."

Tara beamed, still blissfully unaware of the weight in the air. "To Y/N! Who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal!"

Your first day in the N109 zone was, frankly, a disaster. The moment you crossed into the district, a wave of unease washed over you. The air felt different here- thicker, charged with tension and unspoken danger. Street lights flickered erratically, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own, and the sun barely peaked over the horizon, never fully rising. You reminded yourself of your mission: track Sylus, gain his trust, and bring him into the Hunter's Association. But as you navigated the winding streets, the sensation of being in over your head clung to you

You pulled up a map on your Hunter’s watch, the holographic display glowing dimly in the murky light as you tried to identify potential leads. Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. The first few contacts you attempted to make led nowhere - dead ends that plunged you deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district, where conversations were laced with hostility and suspicion.

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as you lingered outside a dilapidated bar. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes and you felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You’ll need a better look if you want to fit in.” You glanced down at yourself-, he wasn't wrong. You stood out like a sore thumb in your Hunter’s uniform. Starting tomorrow, you’d dress like the locals- mostly in all black, blending into the shadows like everyone else.

“Just looking for some information on Sylus Qin,” you replied, trying to sound confident. But the moment his name left your lips, the man’s demeanour shifted. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of fear or respect—or maybe both—crossing his features.

“Not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart. Best steer clear,” he muttered before turning his back on you without another word. Frustration welled up inside you. This wasn’t going as planned. You didn’t want word spreading about your interest in Sylus.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself moving from one low-lit alley to another, encountering rejection and hostility at every turn. Everyone seemed to know Sylus’s name but was too terrified to speak it, leaving you grasping at shadows and feeling increasingly isolated. By the time night fell, the streets became more dangerous, and you decided it was best to retreat to your apartment back in Linkon.

Back home, you leaned against the wall, staring at your watch’s interface. The gravity of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders, and doubt crept in like a thief in the night. You realised that the darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop- it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability.

But as the days passed, a strange familiarity began to weave itself into your routine. You watched, listened, adapted. The subtle nuances of the district’s unspoken rules and underhanded dealings started to reveal themselves, and slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the N109 zone. You began to blend in just enough to draw a few passing glances without arousing suspicion.

Your investigative instincts sharpened. You found yourself in beat-up cafés, observing patrons exchanging furtive glances over steaming cups of synthetic coffee, their conversations laced with veiled references to Sylus’s dealings. You overheard whispers of shipments, meetings, and finally- a location that sent your heart racing.

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress mentioned to a customer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He runs things from a compound, in one of the old stately homes. He keeps to himself mostly, but you can’t miss it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

A rush of determination flooded through you. Finally, a lead! You wasted no time; your heart thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The thought of finding Sylus’s estate ignited a spark of hope, propelling you forward. As you gathered your gear, you reminded yourself of your purpose. The apprehension from your first day still lingered, but now it was laced with a newfound resolve.

With every step deeper into the N109 zone, you embraced the danger. You were learning, adapting, and slowly becoming part of the intricate tapestry of shadows and light that defined this place. And for better or worse, you were closer than ever to the man who would challenge everything you thought you knew.

The lady had been right—you found the estate with relative ease. It was impossible to miss. The manor, though clearly built long ago, had been restored to near-new condition, standing stark against its dilapidated surroundings. This was Sylus Qin’s home—his base of operations as the head of Onychinus.

The first day you caught sight of him, was the day you knew this mission would be even harder than you were led to believe but for entirely the wrong reasons.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it was hard to remember why you were there. He was standing in front of a nearby building, the black blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, his silver hair falling in dishevelled strands across his face. His red eyes scanned his surroundings like he owned the place—like there was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him.

He was tall, too tall maybe, with that unfair kind of height that made him even more intimidating than the average person. But it wasn’t just his height. No, it was the way his body seemed to move—fluid and calculated, each step made with a deliberate grace that told you he knew exactly how dangerous he was. As did the people around him, whose gaze drifted to him subconsciously as he entered a room, commanding their attention.

Your gaze betrayed you, drifting down to his arms, the way his dress shirt clung to his biceps. His build was...distracting, to say the least. Muscular, broad chest, narrow waist, the sharp V-line of his torso that drew your attention a little too much. It was like he’d been sculpted by someone who thought it would be a fun idea to make a man too attractive for his own good. You cursed yourself for lingering.

Then there were his hands. Strong, elegant fingers, the kind you could imagine tracing patterns on the most sensitive parts of your body. You shook the thought away, appalled at how easily your mind wandered. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could count. There was nothing innocent about them.

Still, your eyes found their way back to his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight scruff that only added to his rugged charm. And his lips—damn, his lips. Full and soft-looking, the kind of lips that would make anyone wonder what they’d feel like against theirs. You swallowed, cursing the heat that rose in your cheeks.

You had a job to do. You couldn’t afford to think like that.

But there was something about Sylus that made you uneasy beyond his reputation. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that was enough to send your heart racing if you stared too long. It was the way he carried himself, the subtle confidence that came with being untouchable. He was a man who could ruin you in more ways than one, and you knew it.

And yet, here you were, watching him, trying to make sense of the strange feeling gnawing at you.

Attraction? Fear? A little bit of both?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. Sylus was dangerous. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him just a little too much, wondering if the same hands that could kill with such ease might feel different in other situations.

You found yourself thinking about Tara’s remarks. She would have a field day when you told her just how attractive he was. Something inside you bristed at the thought of Tara drooling after him, a nasty part of you felt compelled to slap her inevitable shit eating grin.

Every day, Sylus seemed to do something that contradicted his brutal reputation. Like he pulled up in a sleek black Bentley, only to open the trunk and haul out dozens of tins of tuna. He’d carried them into a dimly lit alley, where a cluster of stray cats eagerly waited their meal. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart softening at the sight. This was the most wanted criminal in deepspace? It was confusing- almost laughable. Captain Jenna’s warnings echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the wisp of a memory half-remembered. You watched intently, noticing the gentleness of his hands as he stroked one of the cats. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the feline. You watched, meticulously.

Days later, you saw him stop outside a small, rundown school. A group of children played in the dust, their laughter filling the air like a melody. Sylus approached the headmaster, handing him an envelope. You couldn't hear their conversation, but you saw the gratitude in the man’s eyes as he accepted the donation. You noted it down. Sylus was supporting the struggling school’s program. This moment—so starkly contrasting with the image of a ruthless criminal—made you question everything.

Your fascination deepened as you watched Sylus conduct meetings with an array of characters—men in suits, tattooed individuals, all laughing and shaking hands. Nothing appeared violent or suspicious. The disconnect between your observations and the brutal image painted by others became more unsettling by the day.

Following him on foot was another failure—his long strides and confidence made it impossible to keep up. Frustrated, you abandoned the idea and focused on your surveillance equipment, your lifeline. But it was also the tether that forced you to confront the growing complexity of your feelings for him.

Then, everything changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that seemed to lull the world into a false sense of security. You adjusted your viewing angle, your heart fluttering as you caught a glimpse of him in the warehouse, not far from his estate. Situated high in the rafters.You'd gotten there early, armed with intel on the meeting place.

The scene unfolded like a twisted play- goods exchanged, a casual meeting that quickly turned dark. Sylus stood across from Matthew Halbard and his associates. The deal should have been straightforward, he was buying protocores, altered, high-grade and rare components that would help strengthen his position in the N109 zone, Onychinus’s position. But tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and you could feel it even from your hidden position. Halbard’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and your instincts told you things were about to go sideways.

The negotiation soured fast. You leaned in closer, your pulse quickening as you realised they intended to con Sylus. A betrayal.They’d planned to catch him off guard, take him out, and claim Onychinus for themselves. 'Cowards,' you thought. The idea of ambushing him, waiting for him to be alone, gnawed at you.

The tension in the air grew and the conversation escalated, Halbard’s face grew more smug and his men seemed to be dripping with anticipation. You watched Sylus closely. His expression remained neutral, predatory even, though you could see the faint tightening of his jaw. It was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. The sight sent a chill down your spine—the way he moved, the subtle aligning of his hips and rolling of his shoulders, was fluid, like a man who anticipated violence.

Then it happened. In a split second, Halbard’s men drew their weapons. Panic rushed through you, your breath catching. Sylus, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a slow, chilling grin that sent a jolt of fear straight through your core. Gunfire erupted, splitting the air like thunder, but Sylus became the storm instead.

You watched in horror, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, as he dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. He was a force of nature, dispatching them with the same efficiency you’d seen him use while feeding stray cats - calm, casual, and unnervingly composed. The contrast between those two versions of him - the killer and the caretaker - left you reeling.

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. Every strike was purposeful, no movement wasted. You watched in stunned horror as Sylus tortured the men before deciding, with terrifying calm, who deserved to die. The executions were brutal, calculated, each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. The men had underestimated him, and so, it seemed, had you.

Your stomach churned. The Sylus you’d observed over the last few weeks, the one who laughed over coffee and donated money to local schools, had vanished, replaced by a monster who shed blood as easily as breathing. It left you unsettled, blindsided by the jarring reality. How could this be the same person? You’d let your guard down, allowed yourself to see him through a softer lens, and now it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

As the dust settled and the echoes of violence faded, you remained hidden in the rafters frozen in place, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Sylus scanned the warehouse, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. For a moment, it seemed as though he sensed something out of place. You stayed perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t detected your presence.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Sylus sent a command to Mephisto, the mechanical crow perched nearby, its cameras whirring softly. “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

Back in your apartment, the images of Sylus in the warehouse played on a loop in your mind, an inescapable storm of conflicting thoughts. You paced, trying to dispel the visions, but they clung to you. The Sylus you'd been watching- the one you'd begun to romanticise- was gone, replaced by the merciless killer from the warehouse.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm your racing pulse. Your training kicked in, helping you focus in the quiet darkness of your apartment. That was when you noticed it. A large bird perched on the edge of your balcony, its beady eyes fixed on you. It moved with an eerie smoothness, almost unnatural. You squinted, trying to place the species. It looked like a strange hybrid between a crow and a raven, but something about it felt… off.

You shook your head. “What a strange bird…” you muttered.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus smiled to himself. “Mephisto,” He chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching the live feed from the mechanical crow. The bird let out a soft caw.

“Let’s tone down your surveillance skills a bit,” Sylus chuckled softly. “We don’t want her feeling too watched, now.”

Mephisto ruffled his dark feathers in response, a silent display of sass that didn’t go unnoticed. The way the bird shifted its stance on the balcony almost seemed to say, Good luck with that, master.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on the flickering lights of the live feed as he leaned back, contemplating his next move. He was excited. The thrill of watching you navigate this game filled him with anticipation."Let the little bird think she's in control," he mused aloud, a slow grin forming. "It makes things more interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡2

pt 1 here

Obsessive!Choso whose heart was beating harder than usual, standing outside hoping to see you so you could walk in together. Standing against the wall next to the door. The winter weather made it early enough for the campus lights to not be turned on yet, but late enough to be dark outside. Seeing you walk up the steps that led to the doors, looking down at your phone that lit up your face enough for him to see you. Smiling as his eyebrows pinched together when he saw you bundled up in your coat. “Be careful, you don't know that weirdo.” He heard who he assumed was one of your friend's on facetime with you. Seeing your eyebrows furrow towards the phone, “I gotta go- I'll call you later.” he heard you say, hanging up the phone and muttering, ‘bitch’ before pulling open one of the heavy doors of the library. His cheeks felt warm at the thought that you didn't even notice him, making a mental note that you don't pay attention to your surroundings.

Obsessive!Choso who walked in a few minutes after you, making sure his shoe laces were tied and his shirt wasn't wrinkled. Fiddling with one of the many rings on his hands when he scanned the open library. Trying to find you in the sea of students. Spotting you behind a glass door of the study rooms. Mind making him see a halo around you. Whos heart almost burst in seeing that you had reserved a study room just for him. Who was so sure, that the only reason you reserved it was to be alone with him.

Obsessive!Choso whose feet felt numb in his heavy shoes as he walked across the library, a small smile on his lips when he saw you with your head on your hand while writing something down. His hand connecting with the steel door handle with a small ‘clink’. Making you flinch at the sound and look over at the door with a smile. Whos hand was clenched tightly into a fist at seeing your warm smile greet him, taking a seat across the table from you. Setting his worn out backpack onto the chair next to him. Looking at the wall behind you, seeing you shifting in your seat from the corner of his eye. You spoke up, asking if he understood anything that was being taught. “The TA always confuses me- Starting a sentence and then going back to the topic from before.” You laughed, trying to ease the tension in the air, seeing his face go unchanged as he looked to the door. “S’not that hard to understand.” He mumbled, placing his hands atop his thighs, his shoulders going stiff when he realized how rude that sounded coming out of his mouth. Looking over to see your face of embarrassment. “I didn't mean-” he started, sitting up straight and leaning onto the table. “No, it's okay!” You assured, seeing his face finally change from stoic to showing you some kind of emotion. “I do that a lot too.” you smiled, opening your laptop and scrolling to the assignment requirements. His fingers scratching at the chipping black nail polish on his nails that he needed to redo soon. Choso’s eyes scanning the back of your laptop, seeing the many band stickers and comic book strips cover the silver back. ‘Are you a nerd?’ he thought in adoration, the corners of his mouth hesitating to smile. Recognizing some of the stickers he saw. Making sure to remember the name ‘Destroy Boys’ to look it up later. Wanting to desperately take a picture so he could research every single one, desperately wanting to know where the other stickers were from. 

Obsessive!Choso who scanned the entire screen of your laptop when you turned it so you could both see. Seeing if you had any tabs open that he could see. Noticing you had streaming sites pinned to the top of safari. Seeing your fingers fiddle with the pen in your hand as you started speaking about what you had in mind for the project. Only replying with, ‘That's fine.’ and ‘Okay’ making sure to shut himself up to hear you speak longer. You excused his dry replies with, ‘maybe he's just not the talking type.’ it didn't bother you, but you wished he would form some kind of opinion on what you were suggesting.

Obsessive!Choso who heard you ask, “Would it be okay if you wrote the Summary? I hate that part of these projects-” almost immediately saying “Yes.” before you could finish. Seeing you write a list of the things that had to be done and splitting it in half. Seeing your perfectly manicured hands slide the paper over to him. “Sorry if my writing is a little messy.” you smiled, pulling your computer over to face you and typing. Seeing that you were focused on the screen, he grazed his fingers onto the purple ink from your pen. It was messy, but Choso didn't care, if he couldn't make out the words he'd spend the next hour trying to understand them. Almost clenching his heart when he saw the little scribbles of flowers adorn the top of the lined page. “I'll send you the link to the doc-” your voice trailed off, scanning the screen with your eyes. Oblivious to how Choso was admiring the page you gave him. This was finally his chance, he finally had an opportunity to ask you-“Do you have an instagram?” he asked, looking down at his hands when he heard your fingers stop typing. “I don't really like social media.” you smiled, looking up from your screen to look at him.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like his heart could shatter at your words ‘Liar.’ Choso thought, ‘Why would you lie to me?’ his thoughts were interrupted when he heard you speak up again. “I could give you my phone number? I find it alot easier to talk to people through messages or calls.” You spoke, your words mending the cracks in his heart from your lie. In truth, you didn't like lying to people, but the mere thought of giving him your instagram and letting him see the bullshit you spam onto your story was humiliating enough. Choso pulled his phone out quickly, fingers gliding across his screen as he pressed the ‘add contact’ button. Sliding his phone over to you. Seeing you do the same, his heart fluttered at the sight of trading phones. Seeing small charms jingle at the corner of your phone when he picked it up, noticing it was a newer model of his phone, and a lot smaller.

Obsessive!Choso who almost let out a choked sigh when he looked over and saw how big his phone was compared to your hand. Taking a mental picture as you struggled to hold it. Seeing you slide it back to him, his eyes looking over your name in his phone. Sliding yours back to you. Immediately memorizing your phone number in case he ever lost it. Your eyes scan the screen before looking at the top right corner and seeing the time. ‘6:45 PM’ it read. Hearing you close your laptop and gather your things, “I gotta get goin’ now-” You muttered, standing from your chair and placing your laptop into your bag. “I'll see you in class.” you smiled, looking at his face that finally cracked a small smile back to you. “Bye!” you said as you waved goodbye to him, stepping out of the room. Seeing him give you a small wave in return. 

Obsessive!Choso whose breath hitched when he saw you left behind the same purple pen you used to write the list you gave him. He looked up to call out to you, but he didn't say anything. Reaching down to grab it, his fingers grazed the smooth plastic as he pictured your hand around it. ‘Did you leave this just for me?’ he thought, a smile creeping onto his face. Hearing a harsh knock onto the door, snapping his head to see a student holding the sheet that showed his reserved time was over. Gathering his pencil and notebook, delicately placing the stray paper you had given him in between a red folder from his backpack. And putting your pen into his pocket before walking out. Choso couldn't see himself, but he felt like his cheeks were warm, and he was sure his ears were red.

Obsessive!Choso who almost ran back to his studio apartment near the school's campus. Sitting at his desk as he digitally scanned the list you wrote, his eyes almost glimmering when he saw the image on his laptop showing that the scan was complete. Rummaging through his discarded school supplies and finding a plastic paper sleeve, gently sliding the page inside. Smiling while he cleared a space in his closet. Gently placing a small stool inside and taping the sleeved page onto the wall. Reaching into his pocket and placing the pen in the center. Thinking, ‘I'll just leave it here so it won't get ruined.’ while he centered the pen onto the stool. ‘I'll give it back next time I see them.’ he assured himself. Walking back to his computer and zooming in on the words you wrote. Remembering the name of a band on the back of your laptop, he opened a new tab. His fingers typing in ‘Destroy Boys’ into the search bar, seeing a picture of the band. Scrolling down and clicking the link that opened spotify. Clicking on the song that was #1 on their page. His eyes slightly widening when he heard the loud music blare through his laptop speakers. Clicking the button that showed him the lyrics. ‘This is what you listen to?’ surprised that you'd listen to music so similar to what he listened to. 

Obsessive!Choso who was so tempted to scroll through the thousands of monthly listeners in hopes to find you. Instead, settling on changing your name in his phone from your first and last name, to your first name with a small ‘♡’ next to it, hoping you'd do the same. Scrolling through his camera roll, before choosing a picture he stole from your friend's story, one where you were caught off guard and smiling. One of his favorite pictures of you he had screenshotted. The same picture he used as his wallpaper, pretending he was the one who took it. Making sure he changed it to a black screen before he went to the library earlier, in case you saw it. Looking back up to his laptop and playing the band's entire discography. Listening to the lyrics and adding the ones he thought you'd listen to into a playlist. Going to stand up when his phone dinged, looking down to see your name pop up. His hands shaking taking a screenshot of the first text message you had ever sent him. ‘Hey! Here's the link to the doc :) in case you wanna change something about it.’ he read, almost hearing your voice in his head. His hands went clammy when he saw you had sent him a smiley face. ‘Are you...No. Are you flirting with me?’ he thought to himself. Going to his computer and opening the message, clicking onto the link and seeing that you were looking at it too.

Obsessive!Choso who smiled so hard at the idea that you were looking at the google doc at the same time. Taking his fingers and moving his cursor to hover above yours. Letting out a quiet laugh when he thought about how technically he was holding your hand right now. Hoping that you were looking at what he was doing, but the chances of you just leaving your computer open while doing something in your bedroom were higher than his hopes. Opening the notification on his phone and replying, ‘thank you:)’ before turning off his phone and looking back to his computer. His hands in between his knees as he stared, hearing the music you listened to blare through his laptop.

-

pt 3 here

..... mm I luv him sm, im gettin to the actual stalking soon, could you tell? wrote this while listening to 'Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge'

[imagineinside]

Star-Like Encounters (Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: In between posting chapters for the Wolverine fic I'm working on, I also wanted to pick up something about Hugh Jackman. I want to first preface with the fact that this is not meant to be taken as reality and we need to be respectful of people mentioned, this is purely a work of fiction. With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

Description: You begin your first semester at a prestigious university with a mix of excitement and chaos. After a frantic start involving a late arrival due to your roommate’s Hollywood-related detour, your day takes an unexpected turn when you meet Hugh Jackman, your roommate’s boss, at a movie studio.

Hugh, intrigued by your expertise in physics, invites you to consult on a film project aiming for scientific accuracy. Balancing your new academic responsibilities with a potential Hollywood cameo, you must navigate your dual interests. As you face your own feelings, you discover that the lines between your professional and personal worlds are more intertwined than you imagined.

Currently Applicable Tags: (Future) 18+, Fluff, cocky Hugh Jackman, flirty Hugh Jackman, age gap (55 and 27) more to come.

Running through the hallways of the prestigious university you had dedicated your whole life to working at, you cursed at yourself for running so late. It wasn’t entirely your fault, however. Needing to share a car with your best friend and roommate always had its disadvantages.

And this morning, her boss had decided he needed her assistance out of absolutely nowhere, meaning you had to drop her off at a studio downtown before driving to the university.

Unfortunately, you had no idea who her boss actually was, otherwise you’d go on a rampaging smear campaign as payback for them jeopardizing your career like this. You had asked your best friend various times, with you both sober and drunk at various times, who her boss was. All you had gotten out of her was that “he is a Hollywood hot-shot, and he’s been in some of your favorite movies.” She always said that last part with a mischievous grin on her face.

You bolted into the lecture hall and all 100-some eyes turned to you, including the headmasters in the back. You took only a moment to catch your breath before fixing your appearance, smoothing out your skirt and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Good morning, everyone,” you called in greeting as you approached your desk, throwing your briefcase on top of it and shrugging off your jacket.

You received a cacophony of “good mornings” back.

“It’s a pleasure to be here at the start of your semester, and I’m excited to guide you through the wonders of astrophysics this semester.” You heard a few groans rupture from the students, but you simply smiled to yourself. You had been that student once upon a time. “We’ll explore the life cycles of stars, the structure of galaxies, and the mysteries of dark matter. Astrophysics can seem daunting, but it’s really about understanding our place in the universe. Embrace your curiosity, ask questions, and don’t worry if things seem complex at first—every great discovery starts with a simple question. I’m here to support you, and together we’ll uncover the fascinating stories written in the stars.” You felt your heart lift up in your chest, you truly had such a fascination with this field of study.

You dared for a moment to lift your eyes and read the approval written in the headmaster's face, a spark lighting in your chest. “Now, let’s start with the Big Bang, shall we?” You smiled once again as you heard hundreds of notebooks being flipped open to the first page.

Nothing like the start of a new semester.

* * *

You drove your beat-up Volvo to the location your roommate had sent you when she texted you earlier that day. As you rolled up to it, your brakes squealing as you came to a stop, you realized it was an entire campus of movie production. There were hundreds of people mulling about on the other side of the protected gate. Some were riding around in golf carts, others sprinting from set-to-set, a whole flurry of movement.

You always had a fascination with Hollywood and the film industry. When you originally started at university yourself, you majored in theater and dance. But… after your first year, for reasons you’d rather forget, you changed to astrophysics.

“There you are!” Your best friend, Ashley, squealed and pulled you into a big hug after you stepped out of the car. “I had the best day today!”

You laughed at the excitement written all over your friend's face, “I’m glad, just don’t make it a habit of making me late to my class.”

Ashley’s smile dropped as she put her hands together in a silent prayer, “I am so sorry about that. I talked to my boss about it and he promised he would be more considerate next time.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, fauxing an upset scoff, “Fine, I suppose I can let it slide this time–”

“That’s good, I don’t need you murdering my best assistant.” A deep voice called out past the front of your car. You knew who that voice belonged to in an instant with that deep, sultry Australian accent. You had all the X-Men movies he was in on DVD and saved to your computer, as well as “The Greatest Showman” and even the series “Faraway Downs”. (You used to have a cutout of him in your room when you were younger but you don’t need to bring that up…)

Your eyes were glued to your best friend who gave you a sheepish grin, as if even she hadn’t been expecting this. You were afraid that if you looked over at him, he would just evaporate into thin air.

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself, I’m your friend's boss. You can call me Hugh.” Suddenly he was crossing into your line of sight, a hand held out in front you as a way of greeting.

You snapped yourself out of your trance that only his voice had put you in and went into professional mode, something that was a common necessity in your line of work, “Hugh, nice to meet you. I’m Ashley’s roommate… and oftentimes chauffeur.”

That pulled a laugh from deep inside his chest as he shook your hand. His grip was strong but still gentle so as not to crush your dainty fingers. It was incredibly hard not to notice the way his hand dwarfed yours in size, his palm calloused and rough in comparison to yours.

“I am terribly sorry about today, we got called to set at the last minute to start production for a new movie. It will not happen again.” He assured you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, “No worries, only made me late to my first lecture of my professional career, but not a big deal.” You laced your words with heavy sarcasm as you flashed a look to Ashley, who looked like she was about to combust with embarrassment. Did she really think you were going to embarrass her in front of her boss that much?

“Lecture? Are you a Professor?” Hugh asked as he leaned against the rusted hood of your Volvo.

It took you a moment to respond as you soaked in his large arms crossed over his massive chest. You wish you could be buried in there. Christ, you were acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. You cleared your throat before responding and smoothed out your skirt. You weren’t entirely sure, but you thought Hugh’s eyes followed your brief movement. “Yes, at Stanford in the Physics department. It’s where Ashley and I both studied.”

“Stanford, wow,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows, he seemed genuinely impressed. “You must be quite renowned in the Physics world to have gotten a job there. And… excuse me if this comes off as inappropriate, but you are so young too.”

“Just passionate, Mr. Jackman.” You say with a polite smile.

“I thought I told you to call me Hugh,” he replied with a teasing smirk that lifted one side of his mouth higher than the other. It felt like you were going to combust right there with how fast your heart was racing.

“Anywaaaay,” Ashley jumped in. You had almost completely forgotten she was standing there. “She and I best get going, we still need to make dinner tonight.” She rounded the small car to the passenger side door and threw her bag in the backseat.

“I guess it’s–”

Mr. Jackman cut you off with a quick step forward, “Actually, if you don’t mind me saying, you may be able to help us.”

“Us?” You asked and flicked your gaze towards your friend who looked like her world was ending right there in front of her.

“You see, some aspects of the movie we are working on happens in space. I will refrain from saying anything else since, well–if you’re a fan I don’t want to spoil anything,” he said with a hearty laugh, “But the producers and directors have been fighting about the physics of the movie. They are trying to make it as accurate as possible, I suppose. And well, I am very out of my depth when it comes to anything like this.”

You nodded at him, one hand on the door handle of the Volvo.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you be willing to join our next meeting to teach them a thing or two about physics?” He asked and took one more step forward, a sparkle in those soft, hazel eyes.

“Well, Mr. Jackman–”

“Hugh.”

“Uh, Hugh,” You went on, “I am very flattered but I just don’t know if I will be the best suited for the job. I am sure you can find others that will be better at this sort of thing.” You said with a nervous laugh. There was no way you would survive getting looped into this movie with Hugh Jackman as a leading character.

Plus, Ashley liked having boundaries between her work and personal life, which you understood. You didn’t want to overstep without talking to her about it first. You don't know what you would do if you lost her friendship because of something like this.

Hugh smacked his lips together and patted the hood of your tiny car. “As a person who enjoys her work because you are passionate, I feel you would be the best suited for this task.” He held up his pointer finger as he reached into his back pocket to pull out an old, leather wallet. “I will give you my business card,” he said, holding up a small piece of white paper, “if you give me yours… Professor.”

You hesitated for a moment, not sure what this would all lead to, before nodding your head and reaching into a side pocket of your briefcase, producing a small manilla rectangle with your information printed on it. “Here you are, Mr. Jackman.”

He didn’t correct you this time as he reached over to retrieve your business card, before placing his own in your open hand. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that this piece of paper smelled like him, all manly cologne and pinewood…

“I think we will be seeing each other in the future, Professor,” he said with a wink and a wave as he turned around and walked back towards the campus.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t watch his tight butt in those bootcut jeans disappear past the gate. But you didn’t notice him turn back around to get one last look at you as you climbed into your car.

* * *

You and Ashley made dinner without touching the subject of her boss who apparently now wanted to recruit you to help with the project. On one hand, you really wanted to say yes to his proposal. After all, this may be the closest you could ever achieve to the film industry after your change in major. But on the other hand, you knew Ashley took a lot of pride in her work, even as an assistant. She planned to climb the ladder of the entertainment business one rung at a time. After all, she held out throughout the entirety of her theater degree at university, when you just bailed when it got too difficult.

“I can feel you thinking about it,” Ashley said while you sat on the couch together, each with your respective bowls of ice cream and rewatching Gilmore Girls for the third–maybe fourth time?

You groaned and grabbed the remote, pausing your show. “I know… I’m really sorry.”

“Hey,” Ashley said and reached across to place her hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you care about film just as much as I do. Hell, they do need a lot of help with the physics of the movie, and I am definitely no help in that department.” You let out a small chuckle in silent agreement with your friend. As much as you loved her, math was not her strong suit.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright if I say yes? I mean, it’s not like it will be my actual job or anything. I probably won’t even interact with you and Mr. Jackman that much.”

Ashley shook her head, “No, it’ll be completely fine if you take the offer. And you’re right, usually Hugh and I are busy doing other stuff rather than being involved in the technical discussions, or at least I am.”

“So our friendship will still exist?”

It was Ashley’s turn to laugh, “Yes, dummy, our friendship will still exist.”

“Ugh, you’re the best!” You yelped and lunged across the couch for a hug, ice cream be damned.

Later that night, when you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a notification from… an unknown number?

You had to let out a deep breath after his last text let a flurry of butterflies free in your stomach. You tried not to let it get to you so much, he was probably just being nice. Plus, you’ve watched enough of his interviews to know how flirty he can be without really meaning it.

Laying in bed, you opened your phone to Instagram. You snickered at the first photo that popped up on your feed. It was Hugh Jackman dressed in his yellow Wolverine uniform taken from an angle that definitely aged him, but you still found it adorable nonetheless. Without thinking, you pressed the heart button on the bottom left of the picture. After all, you’ve been liking his pictures for years by that point.

After that, you set your phone to “do not disturb”, waiting for the sun to wake you the next day. And when you finally woke to check it, a notification popped up on your phone that had your heart flying around your chest.

[ivesambrose]

July 2024 Mini Messages

1. 2. 3.

Half way done already... Damn.

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Picture 1

The desire to travel, to learn and to focus on a spiritual practice. You may have had been self sacrificial for quite some time but now you want to leave that behind for an adventure of your own. It'll happen. Your dreams will guide you, quite literally. Pay attention to them and the places or cities or towns you feel drawn to.

Some of you might find solace in long walks be it outside or simply pacing around in your room with music on. You need some quiet time away from projections of others mindsets. There's an opportunity that will come through which will allow you to bring in new experiences and people into your life. You'll feel grateful that you've crossed your ways with them. However, I do see some of you being reluctant in opening up fully or letting good things happening for you due to fear of being hurt or simply cuz you're not used to things like that given your experiences. But there's hope, there's a reason to heal and there's certainly every reason to release what you no longer want to hold on to anymore.

A good month to simply find some balance within instead of feeling pulled towards extremes.

Additionally, if you've been grieving over something that didn't work out at some point. Know that something much better is on it's way for you. It'll take you somewhere you'd much rather be.

You can also look forward to finding the silver lining you had been hoping for. It's doesn't always have to be like this.

Picture 2

You can certainly look forward to a complete 180 when it comes to your financial situation. Likely the past couple of months may have felt like you've been lacking proper resources or some of you may have even felt like you've been downright struggling even in matters in regards to health. You have had help or your needs met but you've still felt isolated and maybe even cast out. Perhaps you've felt as though you do not belong where you're currently at and you're constantly trying to be something you're not.

Regardless of your circumstances, you've endured and remained determined.

Prepare yourself for a drastic change. A release and renewal. Regardless of you preparing for it, it will come through inevitably. It'll feel like an answered prayer so I remind you to extend gratitude for whatever you have so far and whatever that will be coming into your life.

A lot of you will be happily working towards something that makes you emotionally content. You will gradually perfect or get better at this over time. I also see acclaim in regards to someone's craft or services. For some I see a very tedious decade long chapter finally closing out. You've gotten your wisdom, it's time to apply that for what's to come.

With the money or resources flowing in, be mindful to invest, spend and save accordingly. You'll make new connections this month as well but choose your circle wisely. The more you indulge in art or things that you're passionate about the more harmony and luck you draw into your life. The smoother things fall in place. Focus solely on that instead of rumminating on how to make things happen. You'll be guided on your own.

Picture 3

Immense talent and capability. But when will you claim it? If not now then when? Lucky for you, you're finding your voice and assertiveness this month. For some of you I see rewards or gains from something that you have been focusing on the side. Some of you might also get a sudden bonus at work.

There might be some competition this month however or people trying to pick fights with you over petty matters. Try not to rush things this month either you'll be compelled to slow down either way. You'll also be compelled to drop a particular mindset this month too. Any change you wish to see around you needs to come from within first, it might be a hard fact to swallow but you must accept it. It's like sometimes you're too much in your head but you don't make it a comfortable place for yourself when you should at least try to.

This month will also remind you that regardless of what you've been told and what you've endured, you're not a victim to your circumstances. There's always a way out.

A lot of you might consider doing a sport or building up physical strength as well. Keep your head cool. Take care of your heart and back. Do consider meditation or deep breathing excersises. Genuinely avoid situations that get you agitated for no reason. Channel your aggression towards your goals and know that no one can take your persistence and your rewards away from you.

[needle-thread-thimble-spear]

RGU and the Transfeminine, Part 1

OR

Why Miki Kaoru is an Egg

Fig. 1: The Sunlit Garden

When I’d first watched through Revolutionary Girl Utena, Miki Kaoru was initially one of the characters I had the hardest time figuring out. Unlike the other poisoned sibling relationships in the show, Miki and Kozue’s didn’t really make much sense to me. I couldn’t decide how I felt about the character, whether he was “better” somehow than Touga, Saionji, or Akio, or if he was “just as bad”. And of course. What the hell is with that damn stopwatch dude??* Looking at fan writings afterward just deepened the confusion. Everyone seems to have a different opinion on what’s going on with Miki. It’s only after much re-watching, and introspection, that I think I’ve figured out why I’m so conflicted about the character. I’d like to share why- and hopefully along the way I can at least show that Miki is more interesting than many give him credit for. Click the readmore if you please!

(And, to be clear, what is written below is a reading, a blend of evidence from the text, from the subtext, and my own personal experience. I do not claim to be the first to interpret the character this way nor do I claim that this is the definitive read of the character. Nonetheless, I hope I can make my case to you!)

and, a big thank you to @empty-movement for collating all the high quality screengrabs and scans in this post!

Fig 2: Rookie Princes

While I’m not the first to notice, I think it’s frequently overlooked just how similar Utena and Miki are in the first arc. It’s definitely something that flies over the heads of many first-time viewers. But Miki and Utena, are extremely alike! Of course, they are both motivated by an unattainable image of the past, and Miki’s early episodes codify the “sunlit garden” into the RGU symbolic environment. But it’s more than just this. Utena and Miki both treat Anthy in basically the same way. Utena has an easy time convincing Miki that the dueling game is objectifying nonsense. That the principled thing is to leave the whole exercise behind and treat Anthy like a person. It isn’t very hard for Miki to convince Utena to duel him for her hand either. They both view themselves as her personal protector, and (while maybe at different times), both project their imagination of what she must be thinking onto her. Utena does a bit more than Miki to try and figure Anthy out, but it doesn’t take much for her to get swept up in her own image of prince. In both their minds, Anthy needs them to save her. And, when Anthy looks them in the eyes, and tells them. I’m not yours. It destroys them. Freezes them in their tracks, breaks their hearts. Screaming, its a lie, you can’t mean that! Of course they get along so well! They see themselves in one another, plain as day. Little rival princelings, seeking the affections of the same princess, but always with chivalry and good intention.

Fig 3: Heartbreak

But I think there is more to it than that! Miki and Utena (and later Nanami) are some of the youngest duelists (at least, without a black rose anyway). And, they have fairly similar relationships to the other members of the student council. Juri acts as an older friend, mentor, and source of advice for both of them. Its not unlikely that she sees her younger self in the two of them, and while she does very directly take this out on Utena, its her sword that Utena takes to her second duel with Touga. Indeed, Touga manipulates Miki and Utena in unsubtle and sexually aggressive ways, as compared to how he might treat Saionji or Juri. And for both, its their relationship to gender that he directly attacks. He attempts to break Utena’s spirit by turning her “back into a normal girl”, and for Miki he seems to challenge his masculinity. And while this may seem as though the two of them are being shoved in opposite directions, in both cases, Touga hits them in the same place. “You’re a prince then? I don’t think so. Unless you prove it”. Touga isn’t the only one to question Miki’s ability or status. Utena and Juri both tell Miki. You are much more suited to playing piano than dueling. The main difference here is that they tell him this with genuine compassion, but the implication is the same. You aren’t suited to this prince thing. Give it up.

I don’t think it’s just the audience who is conflicted slotting in Miki with the other “men”.

Fig 4: Strange Friends

Much ink has been spilled on Miki and Kozue’s relationship, but I do think there is one thing consistent across readings. There is a power struggle going on between them, and they’ve both got something to hold over the others head. Personally, I don’t believe there is any attraction between them. Rather, What’s Going On With Those Two is their mismatch in understanding their sexuality and the RGU concept of “Reality”, and the friction that creates in their image of themselves and one another. That reading may go as follows. Miki sees Kozue as acting dangerously and immorally. In his mind, she is his responsibility, to keep out of trouble at the very least. Perhaps he sees himself as needing to step in for their absent parents. So he sees himself as the mature and grounded one, a father figure needing to keep the both of them on the straight and narrow. Kozue on the other hand, sees Miki as being essentially blind to Reality (with a capital R). She believes he doesn’t have a good grasp of what sex is, or what adult relationships look like. She may believe that she understands what happened with their parents much better than Miki, and clearly sees that her brother is in danger with his creepy music teacher. So she sees herself as the mature and grounded one, needing to protect her brother both by warding off people who would take advantage of him and by getting him to grow up and see things as they Really are. Without their parents, they feel the need to take care of one another and control how the other approaches their sexuality. But in the end, it does seem that Kozue is the one who is better able to manipulate Miki’s behavior, helping Akio convince him to duel a second time. That Miki needs to grow up and accept what he wants. He sees a vision of Anthy, and he’s driving the akiomobile. And, with fearful realization, he discovers the identity of End of the World.

Fig 5: Fear

So then. Why should Miki be so hung up about his sexuality? It clearly makes him very uncomfortable. And why does he compare the sister he had in the past onto the one he has in the present? What’s so special about that sunlit garden, anyway? What is Miki Kaoru’s shining thing?

Let me spin a yarn, if you'll indulge me-

As far as Miki remembers it, when he was little things were perfect. His parents were still there, and he and his twin sister were thick as thieves. They would play piano together, and drink milkshakes. Things were simple and happy as far as he’s concerned, and while his childhood was not nearly as rosy as he remembers, it was certainly better than whatever he has to deal with now. Now his parents are gone for reasons he doesn’t quite understand, and his sister has drifted away from him and acts promiscuously. His body is starting to change, and it fills him with disgust. Worse still, he finds himself envying his sister for some reason. It all floods him with shame. He needs to fight those feeling with everything he has. Being very clever for his age, he finds himself the youngest member of the student council. He becomes involved with the dueling game as it is revealed to him, and goes along with it, not wanting to act out of place. He gets a crush on Anthy, and is unable to figure out what the hell he should do about it. Later, he meets Utena, and the two become fast friends. And how lucky, his new friend is roommates with his crush! She’s just so perfect. She’s kind, and quiet, and chaste, not at all like his sister. He feels a kinship with her. And in an act of cosmic fate- she plays for him his favorite childhood arrangement. It’s just as Touga says. He can’t let the world get to her, the way its getting to his sister. The way its getting to him. He needs to make sure that Anthy, and his memories, are safe. But alas- it seems she doesn’t feel the same way. She’d rather be with Utena. Hopefully, Utena can protect her where he cannot. Miki and Utena go back to being friends, and he nurses his hurt feelings privately. It wouldn't do to make a scene about it, and besides, it wasn’t appropriate for him to think of her like that anyway. Thinking about anyone like that. He can’t help but feel disgusted with himself for allowing it. Later, his relationship with his sister continues to deteriorate, and his father is remarrying. But he can stick by his principles, and stay out of it all, the dueling especially. Kozue, Touga, and Akio have other plans. He is confronted with Reality, and it terrifies him. He sees himself in the drivers seat, Anthy his. This is what he is now, no point in trying to hide from it. He challenges Utena again, taking an early advantage utilizing his new resolve and Utena’s confusion. But that resolves breaks quickly. What is Kozue doing with Anthy?

Pay attention, or you’ll lose.

Fig 6: Crash!!

Miki is disgusted with himself, his role, because he does not want it. He hates what’s happening to himself and his family. He admires Utena and Juri, for embodying his ideal self. He listens to Touga, puts up with his music teacher, even if they make him feel gross and uncomfortable, because he feels he has to and that he doesn’t have a choice. He idolizes Anthy, so much. He is attracted to her, but maybe there is something more. Maybe, Miki wishes he could be her. Miki, in my mind, is a closeted trans lesbian going through puberty as a boy. I think that part of this might be projection, perhaps. But I hope that I might have made my case using the text of the show. But even if you disagree, I hope that you might have a better appreciation for his character. I think he’s fairly consistently people’s least favorite council member as a character, but honestly he’s my favorite and I think there’s a lot more too him than a lot of people give him credit for.

Fig 7: Three Lesbians Hanging Out

… this all being said. I think it’s interesting that Miki thinks Anthy is the picture of femininity right? That this is what he wants.

In the end, all girls are like the rose bride.

Please wait patiently while I make the case, that while Miki is an egg. Anthy has long since hatched...

(And I do mean be patient! This subject, and the concept that Ohtori represents a transmisogynystic institution at its very core, is WAY more personal than this headcanon, and also is much more of a difficult thing to write for dozens of reasons. I'm still not 100% sure it would even be right of me to post my thoughts on that publicly. But if enough people are interested, maybe that would motivate me to write it!)

*What’s a good Miki essay without some sort of Stopwatch Theory tm? Well (and I freely admit much of this is probably projection, but it’s not just me projecting! It’s also my girlfriend!!), Miki seems to get very wrapped up in his own thoughts. He is very self conscious, takes the criticisms of others very seriously, and also seems to get ideas about How Things Are Going To Happen in his head. He desperately tries to make sense of his surroundings, and finds himself consistently failing to do that. So my guess is the stopwatch is a way for him to regulate and calibrate his thoughts and hypotheses and self image. He picked it up in his duty as council secretary, but its something he feels is significant outside of that. Aha moment? Click. Unexpected end to a council meeting? Click. Something go completely as expected? Click. It helps him process I think. That is my formal Stopwatch Hypothesis tm.

Supplement Fig 1: Stopwatch