#I’m taking stuff out of my bookshelf to move things around

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

“I’m Professor Changmin. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.”

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 ☞ ♥•♥•♥•

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader | Viltrumite!Mark x f!Reader | Sinister!Mark x f!Reader | No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x f!Reader | Omni!Mark x f!Reader | Shiesty!Mark x f!Reader | Mohawk!Mark x f!Reader

Warnings: Umm there’s a mention of Lensless making his dick jump LMAO but that’s it

Tags: Fluff, comedy, romance, just cute silliness – you get the vibe

Word Count: uhhh the whole thing’s 3,236 but each part for all the variants is between 350-650

Synopsis: It’s so nice to have a superhuman boyfriend who relishes in the idea of you being so weak and helpless, he does EVERYTHING for you. Except, also, sometimes it’s kind of annoying and you just want to do things on your own. So when he’s gone on a mission that’s supposed to last a few days? You plan to take FULL advantage. Only, he comes back sooner than expected…

a/n: man, sorry i’ve been dropping the ball on posting lately. i wasn’t lying when i said losing all my old shit really killed my motivation. BUT i’ve been going dumb reading this comic and bruhhh i’m SHOOK by some of the differences – i digress. i feel myself slowly getting back to my usual grind so pls hang in there with me lovies!!!!

also, Shiesty is DEFINITELY my fav from this series lmaoo

The Set Up...

The thing about being home alone was that it gave you the rare chance to get things done.

No overprotective Viltrumite boyfriend hovering the moment you touched anything over ten pounds. No “babe, let me do it” every time you reached for the step stool. Just peace, music, and the triumphant satisfaction of moving the bookshelf to the wall it should’ve been on this entire time.

You’d nearly gotten it there, too—angled just right, towel under the bottom, scooting it across the floor one slow, squeaky inch at a time.

Main!Mark

You were mid-push, maneuvering the big bookshelf across the floor with a towel under it for glide, when you heard the familiar whoosh of a landing behind you.

“Hey, I’m—whoa.”

You turned around, sheepish but proud. “Hi!”

Mark stood there, mask off, still in his suit, eyes flicking between you and the halfway-moved bookshelf. “Were you… moving that by yourself?”

“Technically yes. But, like, strategically. No lifting. Full physics. Minimum chaos.”

He blinked. “That’s… kind of impressive.”

You beamed. “Thanks!”

He nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, no—super cool. Really cool. Totally capable. Independent. You got this.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah. I’m good.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mark.”

He scuffed his foot across the floor, eyes cast down. “It’s just… you didn’t wait for me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to help me push furniture around after flying halfway around the world.”

“Still,” he muttered, glancing at the bookshelf. “It’s kind of my thing, y’know? Being helpful. Picking up stuff. Making your life easier. Super strength is kind of… my niche.”

Your chest ached a little. He wasn’t mad—just quietly, adorably bummed. Like a golden retriever watching someone else throw the ball.

So, naturally, you took two steps back, turned just slightly, and just happened to stub your toe on the side of the coffee table.

Loudly.

“OW—oh my god, ow, okay nope, I’m dying,” you yelped, grabbing your foot and hopping in place.

Mark was instantly at your side, arms out. “Wait, what happened?! Are you okay?!”

“Stubbed my toe,” you whimpered. “On the corner. I think it—ohhh nooo it’s broken.”

He crouched in front of you like a concerned EMT. “Which foot?! Can you walk? Want me to carry you to the couch??”

You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Would you?”

He was already scooping you up, like a knight cradling a wounded princess. “Of course. I’ve got you.”

You let your head fall dramatically against his shoulder, hiding your grin. “My hero.”

He smiled. A real one this time. “You can move bookshelves, sure. But I’m still the toe-stubbing emergency response team.”

You kissed his cheek. “See? Still irreplaceable.”

A pause.

“…You faked that, didn’t you.”

“No comment.”

Viltrumite!Mark

“…Sweetheart?”

You froze.

“Are you… are you moving that? Alone?”

You turned to see Mark standing in the doorway, uniform still on, brow furrowed in a mix of horror and disbelief, like he’d just caught a toddler wielding a chainsaw.

You opened your mouth to explain—but something in his expression gave you pause.

So instead, you took a slow, shaky breath… and rested the back of your hand against your forehead.

“Ohh…” you sighed. “You’re right. That was… so reckless of me.”

He was at your side in a blink.

“[Y/N],” he murmured, already cradling your face in his hands, inspecting you like you might crumble. “You should’ve waited for me. What if you got hurt? That shelf is solid wood.”

“I just… I didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, leaning into the moment. “But I feel so faint now…”

He gently brushed your hair from your face, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You shouldn’t be lifting a finger. Not when I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

You almost felt bad.

…Almost.

Mark pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go sit down. I’ll finish this.”

You gave him your best helpless nod, then flopped dramatically onto the couch as he lifted the bookshelf with one hand and carried it across the room like it was empty.

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want it?”

You sat up, pointing. “Against that wall, just—yeah, right there. No, wait—actually a little to the left.”

He adjusted.

“Hmm. No, sorry, more to the right.”

Another adjustment.

“Okay, now turn it a bit. Clockwise. No, my clockwise. Yeah, okay—wait, back a bit.”

He tilted his head. “Back? Or back back?”

You squinted. “Like… scooch it. A half scooch.”

He sighed (very soft, very loving), and scooched.

You stared.

“…Okay, I think it’s—wait. Nope. Now it’s too far.”

Mark blinked. “Sweetheart...”

You gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped your head into your hands. “This is why I just wanted to do it myself.”

He chuckled—low and warm—then gently tapped your knee. “And miss out on being treated like royalty? Why deprive yourself of such a treat?”

You smiled softly "Very good point..." Then you paused, glanced at the shelf and looked up at him again. “If I’m royalty, does that mean I can tell you to move it back to where it was?”

His face went stony for a moment, but then was already turning. “Only for you...”

You smiled. “I love you so much.”

Mark was ready to move planets that point.

Sinister!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the floor when your body stilled.

The hair on the back of your neck rose. The air shifted. Then you heard his voice. Smooth. Amused.

“…Interesting choice of project.”

Your blood froze. No. There's no way he's already back, is he?

You turned your head slowly, painfully, like a horror movie character about to meet their doom.

There he was. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly red, with the kind of cold smirk that said “so this is how you betray me.”

Without even thinking – no hesitation, zero shame – you let out a gasp, dramatically tripping over the edge of the towel you’d been using to slide the shelf on and falling down in what felt like slow motion.

The entire bookshelf tipped sideways with you, crashing to the floor with a thunderous BOOM.

Books everywhere. You sprawled in the wreckage like a tragic Victorian heroine struck down by an airborne piano.

“OHHH NOOOO!” you wailed, arm flung across your face. “Why did I think I could do this alone?! I was so foolish! I was so fragile!”

Mark was in front of you before the dust even settled, crouched low, eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. Not at the bookshelf. Not at the mess.

At you.

You peeked between your fingers. “Is it bad? Am I concussed? Paralyzed?”

He tilted his head. “You’re not hurt.”

“I’m emotionally hurt.”

“You don’t have a scratch on you.”

You whimpered. “But what if I had? I—I thought I was strong enough, but I’m just a weak little thing, aren’t I?”

He leaned in close, his tone syrupy and sharp. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

You gave a broken little sigh. “You were right. You were so right. It was arrogant of me to think I could do things on my own.”

Mark finally smirked something deep and you felt a wave of relief rush through you. “Well. At least you’ve learned something today.”

He gently lifted you into his arms, stepping over fallen books like they were debris after an explosion. “You won’t be lifting so much as a fork without my help from now on.”

You clung to him like a damsel in distress. “Oh nooo, what a shame.”

He paused at the doorway and looked down at you.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he asked, voice suddenly low and flat. “Because you know I’ll find out.”

You blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Mark. My bookshelf fell on me. I’m lucky to be alive.”

His eyes searched your face for a long, unnerving moment… then he smirked again. Kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

You sighed dramatically, burying your face in his chest as he floated you off to the couch.

Another day, another tragedy avoided. Except for your bookshelf, you supposed...

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark

You were really just starting to make progress on the move when you heard it.

Click.

Thud.

“Hey,” Mark said casually, suddenly perched on top the bookshelf and looking down at you with a lazy grin. “Didn't realize you were this strong, babe. You ever think about joining the Viltrumite army?”

“Wha—Mark!” you gasped, heart racing just a bit. “W-What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just watching you work, babe! Gotta say—I’m impressed. Keep going. Show me whatcha got.”

You flushed a bit. “…But you’re sitting on it.”

Mark gave you a dramatic blink. “Yeah, and? I mean look at you! You’re so strooong, move it with me on it.”

“Mark...”

“C’mon!” He kicked his feet a little. “Let’s see that strength. I’ll just stay here and supervise.”

“…Can you get off please?”

“Nope. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

You furrowed your brows, pouting for a bit. “Alright. Fine.” You braced yourself and tried to nudge the bookshelf forward, only for it to not move an inch under the added weight of your lovely, idiotic boyfriend.

He grinned even wider. “Aww, is the strong woman struggling?”

You scowled, leaning back off the piece of furniture. “I can’t do it with you on it. Get off.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.” He shrugged. “But if you really need help, I guess I could show you how it’s done.”

Before you could say anything, he jumped down and scooped you up in one smooth motion, plopping you onhis shoulder like you were a prize.

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says with a sigh. “I got this.” He reached over with one hand and picked the bookshelf up like it was a cardboard box.

“Wait, but—I didn’t even tell you where to put it!”

He grinned as he moved it toward the far corner of the room. “Right here’s perfect.”

“Noo, I wanted it on that wall.”

“Ehh, I’m feeling this spot more. Looks better, don’t you think?”

“Mark, I’m serious, that’s not—”

“You’ll love it,” he said with a laugh, already walking away from it and towards the sofa. “Trust me. I’ve got an eye for these things.”

You thought about arguing but stopped yourself short, realizing there was no point. He wasn’t even listening.

Mark kicked the couch aside with a careless boot and dropped down into the cushions like a king on his throne, moving you smoothly to straddle his waist. His grin was wide and feral, hair a little messy, pupils blown.

He looked very pleased with himself.

“Yup,” he said, hands sliding to your hips, smug as hell. “Pretty strong, babe. Got, like... crazy stats.”

You couldn’t help but look a bit amused. “….Stats?”

“Oh, you know,” he said casually, voice dropping as his eyes dragged slowly over your body. “Strength. Speed. Stamina. Core control.”

You bit back a smile.

“Wanna see what else I can do?” he grinned, and didn’t wait to hear your answer. You suddenly became very aware of the repeated tapping between your thighs.

He was making his dick jump.

You choked.

“Mark!”

Omni!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the living room when his voice cut through the space like a blade.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.”

You froze, hands still on the edge of the shelf. “Jesus—Mark?”

He stepped into view from the hallway, calm and unreadable, but his gaze was locked on your hands. On the effort. On your shoulders straining beneath your t-shirt.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow,” you said, breath catching just slightly.

He said nothing to that. Just looked down at the shelf. Then back at you.

“I’m fine,” you offered, trying to keep your tone light. “Promise this might come as a surprise, but humans move furniture all the time. There’s a whole job field for it, actually. Movers. Crazy, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitched downward. Clearly not amused.

“I know you’re capable,” he said, stepping closer. His voice dropped a little. “Of more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” You blinked. “But this?” His gaze flicked to the shelf again. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not with your hands.”

“My hands are fine.”

He reached out and gently took your palm in his — and suddenly, the shelf didn’t exist anymore. The room didn’t exist. Just his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and impossibly careful.

“These hands,” he said, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, “shouldn’t be calloused from dragging wood and steel. They should stay soft.”

You opened your mouth — probably to argue, maybe to scoff — but no words came out. Just heat. Everywhere.

“I don’t protect you because I think you’re weak,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I protect you because I can. Because you’re the only softness in a world that doesn’t deserve it.”

And just like that, you were putty. Your entire body went slack under his gaze, your throat thick, breath gone. Your fingers curled a little tighter into his without even meaning to.

“…You’re not playing fair,” you whispered.

His other hand lifted to your face, thumb brushing just under your cheekbone.

“I never said I was fair,” he said quietly. “Only that you’re mine.”

You nodded, helplessly. Of course. Obviously.

And when he leaned down to kiss you — slow, reverent, like you were something holy — you realized the bookshelf could stay exactly where it was.

Forever, even.

Didn’t matter anymore.

Shiesty!Mark

The bookshelf barely budged as you leaned your weight into it with a frustrated grunt. You were so close to getting it where you wanted it.

“You tryna remodel or build muscle, bae?”

You froze at the very familiar but very unexpected voice.

Mark stood in the doorway, one brow raised, smirking like he’d walked in on you cheating with another man — who just so happened to be made of plywood and frustration.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you said, trying not to sound as guilty as you felt.

“Clearly,” he said, strolling in like he owned the floor (and the ceiling, and probably you). “You out here grinding furniture across the floor like a damn forklift. Did I miss the call for backup?”

You sighed. “It’s not that heavy. I’ve almost got it.”

Mark leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a man enjoying premium entertainment. “Oh no, go on. Don’t let me stop you. I love a strong woman. Grrr,” he teased, flexing his bicep in mock solidarity.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shelf. “It’s just gotta slide like three more inches—”

“Oh you tryna get precise with it,” he cut in. “Okay, okay, I see you. Interior design. Feng shui. Heavy lifting. Very sexy of you.”

“I swear to God, Mark—” Before you could finish, he was already behind you.

“I got it,” he said, voice suddenly softer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t hurt yourself, pretty.”

You stepped aside reluctantly as he crouched, rolled his shoulders back, and—because of course he did—lifted the bookshelf with one hand.

You blinked. “Did you... just curl it?”

He grinned, looking at you over his shoulder. “You like that? That was rep one. Want me to rack up a few sets? Maybe do a little shoulder press while you admire the view?”

“Mark.”

“Say it again like that and I’ll drop this bookshelf just to carry you to the bedroom instead.”

You would’ve choked if you’d been drinking something.

He moved the shelf exactly where you’d wanted it, then turned and leaned in close, mouth brushing yours. “See? I do listen. Sometimes.”

You melted. A little. Maybe a lot.

“So,” he said casually, already lifting you like a backpack, “wanna rearrange anything else while I’m warmed up? Your guts, maybe?”

“Mark!”

“Babe, I’m just tryna be helpful.”

Mohawk!Mark

You braced both feet against the floor, gave the bookshelf one last stubborn shove, and managed to move it a grand total of two inches.

You stepped back, breathing heavy, hands on your hips.

“Gotta ask,” came a gravel-rough voice behind you, “you movin’ that thing for fun or outta spite?”

You jumped. “Jesus—Mark! Warn a girl!”

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, suit already halfway unzipped and his hair looking a little messier than usual.

“You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Clearly,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling in with that easy, heavy gait. “Figured I’d come home and find you curled up on the couch. Not out here goin’ to war with a damn bookcase.”

“I wasn’t—I am perfectly capable, thank you.”

“Sure you are,” he said, like he was humoring a toddler insisting they could drive.

“I am!”

He stopped in front of you, looking down at your flushed face and dirt-smudged palms. His gaze dropped to your hands, then back up to your eyes.

“Babe,” he said, voice lower now, quieter. “You don’t gotta play tug-of-war with your furniture every time I’m not in the room. You miss me? Call me. I’ll fly in, carry you and the couch if you need.”

You opened your mouth as if intending to explain your reasoning, but he was already moving. Already crouching. Already sliding one hand beneath the bookshelf like it weighed nothing.

With a casual exhale, he lifted it off the ground and nodded toward the other wall.

“Point where you want it.”

You furled in your lower lip, trying to ignore how hot this was. “...There,” you mumbled.

He walked it over. No strain. No effort. Just raw, grounded strength like it was part of his muscle memory now.

He set it down exactly where you needed it before turning to you again, rubbing sorely at the back of his neck.

“You good now?” he asked. “You wrestled the inanimate object. I showed up to finish the job. Domestic bliss achieved?”

You smiled, trying not to laugh. “I’m good. Thanks.”

He gave you that familiar crooked smile. “Next time just call,” he muttered. “You think I won’t drop a whole planetary threat just to come move furniture? Priorities.”

You snorted. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He stepped a little closer, lifting your chin with two fingers. “You’re never a bother,” he said, voice just slightly softer now. “Maybe a bad decision, sometimes. But never a bother.”

You were biting hard into your bottom lip at this point, really trying to hold back your smile.

“…Bet you want me to carry you around now, too?” he asked, already bending to hook an arm under your thighs.

All you could do was squeal and giggle as he hoisted you up bridal-style, with a dramatic grunt that was absolutely just for show.

“There we go,” he muttered, planting a kiss on your temple. “Soft hands, remember? You keep ‘em pretty. I’ll do the heavy lifting. And the thinking. And the rescuing. You? You just sit there and look smug.”

You melted into his chest with a sigh. “Well, I was doing just fine before you showed up.”

He snorted as he lowered onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, you moved it a whole two inches. Might as well call NASA.”

You leaned back slightly, lips twitching. “I did move it though.”

He gave you a slow, unimpressed blink.

Then muttered, “You want a trophy or a chiropractic bill?”

You laughed—loud and warm—and when he leaned in to kiss you again, you didn’t even mind the dirt smudge still on your hands.

[tortillamastersblog]

Where Light Bends Wrong - Part 8 | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You’ve kept your secret buried and your power quiet, until Wednesday Addams came to Nevermore and turned your whole world upside down.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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Wednesday.

My chest tightens and I instinctively drop to my knees to make myself smaller.

Shit, shit, shit, shit. 

This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. How could I let this happen? I was being so careful! And I was making sure she wasn’t anywhere near when I came here, so how did she find it? And how the hell does she know about it in the first place? 

I hear her shuffling around, and press my back against the dusty bookshelf behind me. I’m out of sight for anyone who enters the library because I’m in the back part of it where no one ever really goes, but knowing her and my luck, there’s a good chance she’s going to find me, so I have to do everything in my power to stay hidden. Even if it means crouching in the dust and getting covered in cobwebs.

I hold my breath when I hear her move closer, right on the other side of the bookshelf I’m hiding behind.

She moves away again a moment later, and I let out the quietest exhale of relief, but then I hear some tapping on the floor and my head snaps to the right.

Thing.

He freezes when he sees and my heart drops. 

Oh no.

I hug my book close to my chest and just stare at him pleadingly. He stares right back for a moment, and I almost expect him to scurry off to alert Wednesday of my presence. But then, he simply curtsies ever so slightly, almost as if acknowledging my silent plea, before hurrying away when Wednesday calls out for him.

She must have found what she was looking for because I hear some pages rustling and her heartbeat skipping in delight, so I relax slightly, knowing the chance of her stumbling upon me now that she’s got what she came for is significantly smaller.

I have no idea why Thing isn’t saying anything, but at the end of the day it doesn’t actually matter. All that matters is that she doesn’t know I’m here because if she did, she’d know that I lied about knowing about this place and the Nightshades’ symbol. She’d know I lied again, which would make her question everything I’ve ever told her, and make her, once again, want to dig deeper into who I am and what I have to hide, which I can’t let happen.  

I continue to cower behind the bookshelf, listening to her stuff the book into her bag before she turns on her heels and leaves. Thing, as always, hot on her heels.

I wait a couple more minutes to make sure she doesn’t return, keeping my ears trained on her heartbeat which is slowly but steadily moving further away, and only then do I get back to my feet again.  

With shaking hands, I brush the dust and cobwebs off my clothes, keeping my grip on the book tight before darting out of the library myself. 

I know it’s dangerous to take the book with me, but I have to know what’s going on with me and the pendant and I can’t risk returning it and then running into Wednesday again.

I come across a handful of students on my way to my room, most of them completely oblivious to me as they chat about the Poe Cup tomorrow. They are making bets and talking about all the canoes’ designs, but I don’t linger to hear any details.

My heart is still pounding in my chest from the almost run in with Wednesday when I finally reach my room, and I exhale as I close the door behind me, but then I jump again when I realize I’m not alone.

“There you are!”

I drop the book, and scramble to pick it up again, hiding it behind my back. Then I realize it’s just Enid though, and relax slightly, sliding it onto my nightstand. 

Enid’s never been one to pry and judging by the tears shining in her eyes, I know she’s too preoccupied to wonder about why I’m acting all skittish at the moment. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask with a frown, worry instantly weighing on my chest as her sadness and despair washes over me.

My run in with Wednesday and the book are momentarily forgotten as she flings her arms around me and sobs into my shoulder. 

I freeze for a second, not used to this level of affection from her. Yes, she’s a hugger with all her other friends, but she’s somehow figured out that I’m not the biggest fan of it myself even though she does hug me on occasion when she just can’t help herself.

It’s not because I don’t like it, because I do– I crave it like everyone else sometimes– but because hugging someone usually makes it harder for me to keep their emotions from completely spilling into me like they are right now with her. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she hiccups, her hands curling around the fabric of my sweater as I hesitantly hold her back. Despite the circumstances, it feels nice and makes me realize how starved for affection I am.

“Yoko’s in the infirmary,” she goes on. “G-Garlic bread incident…After you left.”

“Is she okay?” I ask with a frown, holding her tighter. My fingertips tingle, and I feel warmth creep through my hands and up my forearms, momentarily distracting me, but then Enid nods against my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

“She had an allergic reaction, but she’ll be fine,” she says quietly, and just as another wave of warmth travels through my hands and up my arms, she sags against me and exhales shakily. 

Huh.

“But she’s out of the Poe Cup, and now I don’t have a copilot,” she cries, her sobs dying down to sniffles. 

I have no idea what just happened, and why her anxiety and dread have seemingly almost completely disappeared by simply hugging me, but I have a suspicion that it has something to do with my powers.

Add it to the list of things I’ll have to read up on, I guess.

“I’m sorry, Enid,” I say honestly.

She exhales against my shoulder again and lessens her grip on my sweater. 

I know the Poe Cup means a lot to her, and if I could be her copilot, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I’m not part of Ophelia Hall. I’m pretty sure Weems would also consider my competing cheating because of my enhanced strength and speed. 

“Can’t you just–?”

“You know I can’t,” I cut her off gently.

She sighs and I genuinely feel bad for her, but then a thought strikes me that actually makes me actually snort. Not because it’s funny, but because for some reason, I could actually see it happening.

“Why don’t you ask Wednesday?” I suggest, which makes Enid break the hug with a bewildered look.

“Are you serious?” 

I nod and shuffle backward, taking a seat on the edge of a bed because I’m suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. 

“She… kinda hates Bianca,” I explain. “I bet she’d love a chance to take her down.”

Enid frowns. “I mean, I guess, but do you really think she has what it takes to beat Bianca? She is pretty tiny.”

I chuckle softly and absentmindedly touch my pendant. “She may be small, but what she doesn’t have in muscle mass she makes up for with her brain. She’s whip smart, that one.”

It slips out before I can stop myself and Enid eyes me weirdly for a moment before nodding slowly.

“You’re right…You’re right,” she mumbles, hope and re-kindled excitement flickering in her eyes. She darts to the door, probably to go and ask Wednesday to help her right away, but then she stops and turns again as her hand closes around the door handle. “Thank you.”

I smile gently and dip my chin in acknowledgement, and then she’s gone, her excitement lingering in the room as I lay back on my bed and kick my shoes off. 

I wake with a start and sit up as a sharp knock echoes through the room. 

It’s followed by a thump that makes me look down to see my book on the floor. I must have fallen asleep shortly after Enid left while I was trying to read up on my abilities some more. 

It’s strange how drained I felt after she left, and I know it has something to do with my powers and this thing called Heartstill I read about, but I don’t really remember what it actually does now. I want to reach for the book and flip it open again, but I can’t because another knock sounds on my door, followed by Ajax’s urgent voice.

“Y/N? You in there? The cup is about to start and Enid is looking for you!”

I grab my phone off the nightstand. It’s 9.53 and the cup starts at 10. 

Shit.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be right out!” I shout, hastily getting out of bed. Ajax says something about hurrying back to the others and I tell him I’ll be right there too. 

I pick up the book and wedge it between the other books on my bookshelf, thinking it’s best to hide it in plain sight, before slipping my shoes back on and scrambling to the bathroom.

No matter how late I’m running, I still want to brush my teeth and splash some water on my face, so that’s exactly what I do, taking advantage of my enhanced speed while doing so. I also change out of my sweater and into a clean shirt and my striped uniform jacket to show some school spirit, before darting out of my room.

The hallways are empty and my footsteps echo all around as I hurry through the empty school until I finally make it to the river where everyone else is already assembled.

Just like at the fair, there’s excitement in the air, but for some reason, unlike at the fair,  I’m numb to it. Yes, I still feel the buzz, but it doesn’t get to me like it normally would and although it’s a little alarming, it's a nice change for once. 

“There you are. Just in time.” Ajax comes up to me with a smile, already dressed in his own team’s costume, and nudges me before leading me to the Black Cats’ tent.

Enid is anxiously pacing in front of it, but when she sees us approach, she stops and smiles. It looks a little pained, and forced, but it’s a smile nonetheless and before I can say anything, she pulls me into another hug.

Wow. Okay. So we’re doing this. Two hugs in less than twelve hours…

“How are you feeling?” I ask when she pulls back, waving shyly at Ajax who returns it, equally timid, before excusing himself to go back to his own team.

“I feel like throwing up,” she says with a grimace which makes me chuckle while also taking a subtle step back in case she’s being serious.

“Oh come on, you’ll be fine,” I reassure her, wanting to ask whether she managed to get Wednesday to agree to join her team when –speak of the devil– Wednesday steps out of the tent behind her.

My jaw almost drops at the sight of her wearing a similar cat costume just like Enid’s. She’s even wearing cat ears, but unlike Enid, she doesn’t have any whiskers painted onto her nose or cheeks. 

She looks even tinier than usual, and her stoic face is in stark contrast to the goofiness of her costume which makes me have to bite the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from smiling.

No matter how close she came to finding me in the library last night, this is truly a sight to see and one I won’t forget that quickly either.

Enid notices my distraction and spins, her nervousness momentarily forgotten as she takes Wednesday in with a beam.

“OMG, you look purr-fect!” she gushes which makes me snort quietly. 

Wednesday sighs softly with a bored look and lets her eyes roam over the sea of students around us.

“Wait, where are your whiskers?” Enid asks with a frown, which makes Wednesday’s eyes snap to her. 

“Ask again, and you’ll be down to eight lives,” she deadpans and even though her delivery is cold and seemingly cruel, Enid just smiles because she, just like I, knows Wednesday doesn’t actually mean it.

She’s all bark and no bite at the moment, and if she was really upset about the whiskers, she wouldn’t have let Enid somehow convince her to wear the rest of the costume  in the first place.

Seeing that the race is about to start, I step up to Enid again which makes both her and Wednesday look at me, the latter of which makes me a little nervous because her face goes from seemingly bored to unreadable.

Oh no. Did Thing tell her about me being in the library after all?

No. I’m sure that’s not it. Why would he?

I avert my eyes for a second to smile at Enid. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She squeezes my arm, and when I look at Wednesday again, she’s still looking at me, so I repeat the sentiment to her as well, but she doesn’t thank me like Enid did.

I frown, only to notice that she’s not answering because she’s distracted—her eyes keep darting from my face to my chest, and when I look down, I feel my stomach drop when I realize she’s looking at my pendant, which rests over my shirt.

It must have slipped out from under my shirt while I was hurrying through the school.

I panic a little and shove it back under my collar, but it’s too late. Wednesday’s already seen it, and for about the millionth time now since meeting her, that familiar spark of curiosity lights up her eyes. But what’s worse than that is that it’s not just curiosity I see in her eyes. There’s something else there that I don’t even dare to name. 

Shit, shit, shit. This piece-of-crap pendant is causing me nothing but trouble.

I know panicking and tucking it away as quickly as possible is just making me look more guilty or suspicious, but what else am I supposed to do?

Wednesday’s lips part as if she’s about to say something, but then Weems gets up on the stage by the docks with a megaphone and asks the teams to head to their canoes.

Enid squeals, completely oblivious to what just happened between Wednesday and me, and drags the raven-haired girl to the docks, leaving me behind with an uneasy feeling. I try to push it down and focus on supporting the Black Cats, but it lingers no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

The Black Cats actually won. I still can’t believe it, but you best believe they did it. I know it’s solely because of Wednesday and Thing, whom I saw crawling out of the river after the race, but it does matter. They won, and Enid couldn’t be happier. She’s already made me take a bunch of pictures of her, Wednesday, and Mina next to the cup in the Quad after Weems gave it to them, before proceeding to post them, much to Wednesday’s dismay even though she doesn’t even have social media or a phone for that matter.

The celebrations are still in full swing, with fruit punch being poured out and snacks being passed around, but I’ve excused myself a moment ago and am now heading to my room for some peace and quiet.

My emotional radar is starting to recover, and I no longer feel numb to everything, so I’ve decided to escape before things get too overwhelming. I also have to get away from Wednesday because I keep catching her eyeing me. Unlike so many times before, she hasn’t actually done anything other than look, which is somewhat unnerving on its own, but I don’t want to give her the chance to do something else either, hence why I left.

I enter my room and just stand there for a moment, trying to figure out what I feel before I impulsively take off my necklace and stare at the pendant.

It looks so unassuming, but it’s made it difficult for me to stay under the radar lately, especially with Wednesday, so without thinking, I grab a small wooden box from under my bed and stuff it in there.

It makes my heart ache, not only because I feel strangely bare without the weight of it against my chest, but also because I swore to myself I’d never take it off in case I lose it. But my life is literally at stake because of it, so it has to go.

I should have taken it off earlier, I know, but until I saw that unnerving glint in Wednesday’s eyes when she actually saw it properly for the first time, I didn’t realize how much it’s actually putting me at risk.

I sigh, staring at it amidst some fair tickets, guitar picks, and little doodles Lara drew on scrap pieces of paper before shutting the box and putting it back under my bed.

It’s not exactly valuable for anyone except me because of sentimental reasons and looks unassuming enough, so I doubt anyone will take it should they, for some reason, stumble upon it.

I have way more valuable things to be taken from me, like my mason jar piggy bank on my desk.

I absentmindedly touch my chest where the pendant is supposed to rest when I lie down on my bed, suddenly overcome with a surge of emotion.

I hate how I have to hide what I am… how I have to hate who I am because if I don’t, I lose everything.

Being an Ægyrin puts a target on my back, but I have to be honest, I’m not only afraid of being hunted but also of losing everything I know again– Enid, Nevermore, Weems.

There’s so much at stake, but I don’t know how to stop my unraveling when Wednesday is nearby because for some reason I can’t help but be drawn to her.

I’m not talking romantically, because God knows she’s the least romantic person on this planet, but there’s something about her that sets all my senses and worries on edge.

If I had to describe the feeling, I’d call it instinct because worrying about her or saving her is like reflexively pulling back when getting burned by something and–

Should an Ægiryn form a soulbond…

Soulbond.

I sit up abruptly.

No… No, that can’t be… How cliché would that be?

I turn and reach for the book from the Nightshades' library, only to freeze when I see the space I wedged it into earlier is vacant.

It’s gone.

‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆ ⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧

Hi! Sorry for taking this long to update, guys. Life just got in the way and I had to re-read the entire story to decide what direction to take this thing in.

This part is only 3k words long, and I know it’s a bit of a filler chapter, but it's been a while since I last updated and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for too long. To make up for it, the next part is gonna be longer again, I promise. <3

Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven @iwshemj2 @jizzuo308

[totallynotslothhh]

Hiiiii I absolutely love ur one shots especially the snoring or sucking one,so cute!!!!!!

Soooo I wanted to request a joostxreader where joost is tired from all his work and the reader is also tired from her work,so the reader decide to take turn in massaging each other but when it comes to joost turn to massage the reader,her back is very sensitive so she keeps moaning and it escalates into something more than a massage 😍

Feel free to ignore this if u don’t like it!!!!

Also I absolutely love when someone is crashing me with their weight so I like the massage scenario cause well he’s sitting on the reader back (idk😔)

NECESSARY TIREDNESS

pairing: joost klein x fem!reader

word count: 3,279

warning: fluff, smut, spanking, dirty talking, fingering

description: just the request!!

author’s note: I had to make it up to you somehow, and most importantly I had to start working of some requests (i’m sooooooooo slow).

thank you so much anon for this request and the compliments, i love youu!!! your freaky minds mirror mine, don’t worry.

enjoy your reading!!! hope you like it, let me know what you think!

big kisses!

(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)

——————————————————————

The book I had promised myself I’d read -the one that had been buried in the old bookshelf of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend- ended up shamefully abandoned in the rumpled sheets, right next to the spot my body had occupied just seconds before I got up, lured by the sound of keys turning in the front door lock.

I tiptoed to the living room, peeking silently from the hallway and catching a glimpse of my boyfriend’s exhausted figure as he finally made it home.

He locked the door behind him and let out a curse under his breath, making me stifle a giggle as I tilted my head to watch him better: Baggy jeans, the heavy jacket, and the cap he’d been wearing constantly lately.

The scent of his arrival filled the house, that familiar smell that always managed to calm me, the one I found myself searching for everywhere and that I only ever truly rediscovered in our love nest.

His tired eyes landed on my hidden silhouette, and his face slowly gave way to a soft smile.

“Hey, baby” he murmured toward me, before setting the house keys down on the usual cabinet, shrugging off his heavy coat, and taking off the dark cap, as if even the fabric against his skin had started to bother him.

He was left in just his jeans and a plain black t-shirt, which you could tell from a mile away had survived the chaos of the music world.

It was a really stressful time for Joost: barely home, juggling the release of his new album, the tour, and a bunch of video shoots that kept him busy for entire days.

I missed him and we often ended up slipping into small arguments born out of that tension.

-“You were supposed to do the dishes and forgot.”-

-“You said you’d text me after work, but you didn’t.”-

-“You didn’t hang the laundry like you said you would.”-

-“You said you’d buy more detergent, but if I don’t do it, no one will.”-

You know, the everyday stuff couples bicker about.

I’d been pretty busy myself lately: work was overwhelming, stress piling up on my shoulders and the only thing I wanted the moment I got home was to disappear into my boyfriend’s arms, laugh about nothing, count the moles on his skin like they were stars in a constellation.

And more often than not, those weren’t wishes that could be granted.

But apparently, that day, luck was on my side.

I’d left work early, treated myself to a relaxing bath, and now I got to watch my boyfriend come home before ten at night. A miracle.

“I’m so tired” he mumbled with a sigh, heading toward me and down the hallway, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it, only to mess it up even more.

I walked barefoot to meet him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his hands instinctively settled on my hips, both of us still moving forward, unwilling to let go.

Our clumsy steps brought us to the bathroom door, where Joost looked down at me with a smile and brushed a hand against my cheek.

“I was hoping you’d be home” he admitted, nudging his nose against my forehead before catching my lips in a kiss. I hummed quietly, rising on my toes and letting my hands glide over his warm shoulders, savoring the closeness.

“I was hoping you’d come home early” I whispered back, playfully nipping at his lower lip and pulling him even closer. Like if I let go, he might disappear.

I was wearing only a pair of panties and one of his white shirts, every time I hugged him or stood on tiptoe, the thin fabric slipped and revealed patches of bare skin, giving Joost’s hands all the room they needed. He gripped my bare waist, sending shivers down my spine and leaned in again, trailing soft, lingering kisses on my lips, savoring the moment between each one just to look at me, to admire me.

“Mmm, you stink” I teased with a giggle, sticking my tongue out playfully, which he caught gently between his lips and bit without pressure before replying.

“Thanks for the heads-up. Had really no idea” he said, letting his hand sneak down to grab a bare cheek.

“If my favorite little leech lets me go for just a second, I’ll take a shower and then I’m all yours” he whispered warmly, his voice scratchy with fatigue but softened by the love that laced every word.

“Without this leech, who knows under which bridge you’d be living” I shot back, my teasing clear and his laugh that followed proved I’d hit the mark. I relaxed my arms and let him go, planting another kiss on his lips before I stepped away.

“I really should thank you” he said with the same playful tone, taking advantage of the fact that I’d turned to walk back to the bedroom: his hand landing gently on my exposed butt, the soft slap echoing faintly. I giggled and let out a dramatic little groan, pretending to complain as I made my way back to our bed, crawling under the sheets and trying to pick up the thread of the book I’d abandoned.

After what felt like endless minutes, I saw him walk into the room wearing a bathrobe wrapped around his body and a towel draped over his hair. He threw me a glance with those soft, little eyes of his, carrying with them a familiar kind of tenderness.

“So tired you turned to reading?” he said as he rummaged through the underwear drawer, eventually grabbing a random pair of boxers.

I shifted my legs under the blanket and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling, biting back a smile by pressing my lips together.

“Wanna bet my plan to give you a massage is slowly disappearing?” I raised an eyebrow, closing the book and letting it rest on the nightstand , this time for good. The only thing on my mind now was indulging in some well-deserved affection with the Dutch man standing by our bed.

“Oh my God, yes please baby, I need it” his eyes practically lit up as he looked at me, almost pleading, before dropping the towel and slipping into the pair of boxers he’d just picked up.

“What now? You begging the leech for a shoulder rub?” I teased, sitting up on the mattress while he groaned in protest, mumbling some incoherent mix of words as he let himself fall onto the bed.

“You’re submissive for a massage” I whispered with a smirk, lowering my tone, running a hand through his damp hair before leaning down to press a light kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll give you one later” he muttered, letting his eyes slowly roam over my half exposed body. He reached out and let his thumb trail gently along my bare thigh.

I nodded, recognizing the unspoken agreement and caught his rough hand with mine.

“Come here” I said softly, moving my hand away from his messy hair. I sat cross-legged, waiting for the slow, lazy bear to settle himself in front of me.

I placed my hands on his tense shoulders and helped him relax into me. I loosened my legs, resting them on either side of his torso, comfortably against my abdomen. His arms wrapped around my knees, his hands lazily caressing my calves and his face tilted up to meet my gaze.

“Relax, love” I whispered, my fingers kneading the muscles in his shoulders, pulling a low, guttural moan from his throat as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt from his body.

“yes baby” I breathed out, letting my thumbs travel to the nape of his neck and then down along his arms. Every spot I touched, I moved gently, slowly, not forcing anything, just trying to work out the stress and exhaustion that had built up over the long, relentless days behind us.

The room was filled only with the sound of our steady breathing, and the occasional soft smack of kisses I leaned down to give him: on his face, often on his lips. I kept massaging him for a solid ten minutes, while his hands caressed from my ankle to my knee, mimicking the pressure I was applying to his shoulders, as if to hint at what he was planning to do next.

“Turn around, baby, and take off your shirt” he murmured, letting go of my legs and shifting on the bed, now kneeling on the mattress. His eyes lingered first on my face, then slowly dropped to my body which didn’t hesitate to obey, slipping off the shirt and collapsing face down onto the bed with a soft sigh.

“Be gentle” I warned, resting my arms at my sides and almost instinctively pressing my breast into the plushness of the mattress to hide it.

“As if I don’t know that already” he replied with a breathy chuckle that cradled my ears and gave me the reassurance I needed to close my eyes and trust him. He straddled me, and I felt the weight of his hips settle against the curve of my backside, his hands placing themselves on my back, right between my shoulder blades.

He began to move his tattooed fingers gently, drawing from me nothing but soft moans and light sighs. My muscles tensed beneath his touch, and my shoulders curled in reaction.

“Breathe, you’re a bundle of nerves” he said, his voice dangerously close to my ear, a clear sign he had leaned down against my body. A cascade of shivers ran down my spine, and Joost’s hands took that as encouragement.

He kept gliding them down the length of my spine, reaching the dimples just above my hips, then pressing softly but firmly as he traced his way back up toward my shoulders. A louder moan slipped past my lips, echoing like a quiet confession that reached his ears.

The more he realized he could draw those sounds from me, the more he caressed and kneaded my back. I could feel the full weight of his body pressing into the curve of my ass, and that pressure only intensified the heat pulsing through me, settling insistently between my thighs and dampening the fabric of my underwear.

“A massage isn’t the only thing you need to relax, huh?” he muttered, halting the movements of his hands as his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my neck, stealing a sigh that had been caught in my throat.

I bit my bottom lip and arched my back just slightly, barely grinding against his hips.

“Answer me” he whispered again against my skin, gradually leaving a trail of teasing bites that marked a chaotic path down my back. I opened my eyes for a second, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of my gaze, only to close them again when he rose off me and then came the smack. A sharp slap to one cheek, followed by a firm squeeze.

“You already know the answer” I mumbled, the words muffled against the pillow I was now gripping tightly with one hand. Another slap landed, this time on the other cheek, followed by the soothing stroke of a palm, easing the sting with gentle pressure.

“Tell me you want to be fucked” he said, voice oddly calm, as he leaned down with the full weight of his body pressing into my ass. I could feel his erection, growing and insistent, the need between us undeniable and building fast.

I let out a quiet, breathy laugh and clenched the pillow harder, feeling exposed and feverish.

How long had it been since we last had sex? A week? It felt like it.

Suddenly, his hand tangled shamelessly in my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to arch my spine.

“Say it” his voice rasped close to my ear, and I let out a sharp moan at the tight grip, clutching the pillow even harder and wetting my lips.

“I want it. Fuck me..” I breathed out the words in a half-whisper, barely more than air in the room but they reached him, completely.

He let go of my hair only to bring that same hand around my neck. He didn’t squeeze too hard, just held me steady as he kissed me open-mouthed along my shoulder and into the hollow of my neck, licking hungrily and adding sharp bites that would soon bloom red on my skin.

I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and let out obscene sounds from the overwhelming stimulation prickling through every part of my body. He began grinding slowly against my ass and gently guided my head back down to the pillow, loosening the hold on my neck as his lips traveled the length of my back.

I bit down on my lower lip and released a hot, sex-laced sigh that seemed to stain the white walls of our bedroom. He grabbed the edge of my panties and pulled them slowly upward, creating delicious friction between the soaked fabric and my dripping sex. I squeezed my thighs together and lifted my hips slightly.

“Please, Joost” I murmured, right before the third slap landed on my ass. I jolted from the sensitivity and held my breath.

Without another word, I felt him rise off me and walk to the bedside drawer. He pulled out a condom and tossed it onto the bed near my nearly naked body.

I watched him: the way his hands moved, his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest, his hair almost completely dry but still messy. Our eyes met, and he gave me one of his warmest smiles, the kind that made me curl inward and bury half my face into my hands.

Every time, it felt like the first time. I was so deeply in love with how he loved me.

“You’re beautiful” he said as he climbed back onto the bed, leaning over me to reach the side of my face.

His hand slid between my legs, under my panties and began moving his middle and ring fingers over my entrance, which clenched around nothing the moment I felt his touch.

I muttered something chiding, overwhelmed by how he made me feel, only to be answered with a kiss on my shoulder and a soft laugh, followed by a playful bite.

Then he slid those two fingers inside me from behind, and I tensed, eyes rolling back as raw, instinctive moans left my throat.

“One day, I swear I’ll sample these sounds in one of my songs” he groaned against the tender skin of my neck, never stopping the slow thrusting of his fingers.

I blushed hard, letting the heat flood my face.

“You perv” I whispered through a breathless laugh, cut off by a loud, guttural moan as he smacked my already flushed right cheek, harder this time.

“The same perv you’re begging to fuck you, that’s some real consistency” he teased again, but I let his words slip through my fingers and answered only with more needy, gasping moans.

He pulled his hand out of my panties that didn’t take off, just moved them to the side, revealing what he wanted. I turned my head as much as I could to look at him, and our eyes locked again.

My heart stuttered in my chest from the sheer love I felt for him in that moment.

He knelt on the bed, gripped my hips, and lifted them slightly, making my back arch on instinct. I heard him let out a sigh of pleasure at the sight, probably one of his favorites, since he never failed to tell me how much he loved it.

He pulled off the boxers he had just put on, freeing his erection, painfully hard and throbbing. I shifted my hips, waiting for him to bury himself inside me while he was putting on the condom. Finally, we connected and though our mouths were apart, our breaths merged into one long, trembling sigh. I tightened around his length as he began to move, slow at first, sweet, careful but deep.

He leaned over me as he thrust deeper, our bodies echoing with wet, shameless sounds.

His fingers tangled in my hair again, gently turning my head to the side: my lips spilled moans and my eyes fluttered halfway closed from the pleasure flooding through me. He kissed my cheek, my lips as best he could, then focused on my neck and shoulders, biting and kissing with hunger.

He tugged my hair tighter and pressed my face into the pillow, increasing the force of his movements. They were messy now, hard and fast, driven by something deeper than lust. Our moans grew louder, blending into one another. My lower back ached but I didn’t care. It only amplified my arousal, building the climax that was beginning to form in my core.

“Let go… it’s okay” he groaned against my shoulder, leaving a bite there that I knew would last for days.

I was overstimulated, lost in him and his thrusts grew harder, matching the rhythm my body needed to fall apart. I shut my eyes tight, my leg muscles tensed and Joost’s hands now held firmly onto my hips, gripping hard enough to leave red marks.

“I love you y/n… I’ll never stop loving you”he whispered and that’s what pushed me over the edge.

My orgasm crashed into me. My hands gripped the bedsheet, my face buried in the pillow, my hips locked tight while his length kept pounding into me without pause.

I rode the wave, trembling and didn’t relax until I felt him finish too, thick and deep into the condom, slowing his thrusts as he collapsed over me. One of his hands clenched the bedsheet, the other sought mine.

“Fuck… fuck” he breathed, his mouth open, staying buried inside me for a few seconds longer before pulling out, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin beside the bed.

I let my hips go slack, groaning from the soreness in my lower back.

“You okay?” Joost’s completely spent body slid beside mine, his hand brushing softly through my hair as he motioned for me to come lie against his chest.

I accepted his invitation immediately. I moved with a bit of pain, wrapping an arm around his torso and resting my head on his chest, tangling our legs together.

“Yeah… I’m perfect” I murmured, lifting my eyes to him, taking in the sweat on his forehead, the exhaustion in his eyes and the smile still tugging at his lips.

“I love you too” I replied in the same low tone, leaning in a little to silently ask for a kiss. He lifted a hand to gently caress my cheek, and met my lips with his.

He pressed a few quick kisses to my lips, each one landing with a loud little pop that made me laugh.

“I should put this beautiful laugh in a song, too” he murmured against my lips, not stopping the soft rhythm of them brushing against his.

“Don’t even think about it” I warned, pulling back gently just enough to look him in the eyes, trying to pass off a serious look.

It only made him laugh: that sweet, boyish laugh of his.

Not that it mattered. He was going to do it anyway.

Sooner or later he would come home with a song made from my moans and laughter, only to see me embarrassed.

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev | Next

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

-

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part One)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Content warnings: Agoraphobia stuff, pretentious dark academia vibes with English literature (no, I’m not sorry)

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: as someone with agoraphobia, I saw an opportunity to make something cute, so I pounced. Enjoy :)

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Class of 2006

From your window, you see your classmates disperse across campus. They stumble together, arms around necks and howling to the sky so loud, like wannabe werewolves. You can hear them from your window. Most of them seem to stumble toward the Botanic Gardens (which are closed) or to the Christ Church Meadow to gawk at cows and pass out in the grass before sunrise.

And all you can think is, thank God.

Thank God that you chose not to go to that dinner. You saw the setup whenever you passed the dining hall between classes. The tables looked narrow and the chairs were so close together, that there was no way you were going to snag a seat at the end. All those chairs in one room. It was enough to make you panic at the idea of being there. You would have definitely needed an escape plan before the first course was even served.

No, instead you preferred watching your classmates from your big chair, surrounded in the comfort of night, your things, and solitude while they clattered atop one another like drones in a hive. It only confirms that you made the right choice.

The knock on your door, however, briefly makes you question otherwise, but only for a moment. The adrenaline taking course from your heart to your limbs nearly made your knees buckle and force you back down to your seat. It obviously wasn’t your roommate, Venitia. She moved out two weeks into the semester because you never left the room (her words). You did leave your room, though. Just when it was essential: class, studying, and eating. Optional dinners to celebrate the class of 2006 were simply nonessential. So the word of you being the girl with agoraphobia spread quickly. You heard about it when you left your room, of course.

But when the adrenaline finally kicked it down a notch and you could step forward, you did so carefully with arched feet and great hesitancy. The doors are so thick and old, that it’s difficult to hear the old floors creak with weight shifts. Your eye follows the light from your peephole. Its faintness matches the atmosphere of your candles, except you can see the dust particles ebbing and flowing in the tiny beam. Your hand was already on the knob, though, because you knew who it was. You just had to make sure. You swallowed as you opened the door, your heart still pumping.

“Michael, hi.” You try to sound put together and keep your legs straight and unmoving as you lean on the door.

Michael Gavey, an actual genius and basically your only friend at this pretentious place, grins as you stand in the doorway. His Cheshire Cat lips curl as he says hello. He was one of the kindest people here, as evidenced by the plate in his hands, wrapped in clingfilm. The condensation was prevalent from the steam. “I brought you some dinner.” He holds it out for you to take.

And of course, you took it (while trying not to smile too widely). He was a good friend. “Thank you,” you eventually say. The plate was weighty with a hefty portion of quiche and lamb chops. You cock your head to the side, encouraging Michael to come in. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Michael said. He drops his satchel by the door as per usual. “I asked the staff to save a plate for you since you said you weren’t coming.”

You shut the door behind him. He takes his spot on the floor, next to your bookshelf. Most of his classes this semester involved maths (which was something you also bonded over. You both don’t like maths). He doesn’t get to indulge in the classics as much as he would want, so he takes the time to steal a novel from you when the two of you hang out in your room (often). He’s a horrible thief because he ends up giving them back. And if he’s feeling extra generous, he’ll slide it back exactly where he found it in the bookcase. You rarely remember where they originally were, but Michael manages to recall every time. Then you’ll discuss what he read. He loves literary analysis. You can see the way his eyes light up.

It was surprisingly easy to be natural with one another, considering he was bloody awkward when you met at orientation this past summer. You grew close quickly when discussing The Picture of Dorian Gray after discovering a statue of Oscar Wilde near the Pitt Rivers Museum. While you focused on the symbolism of vanity, Michael spoke about how corruption destroys everyone in the end. You also talked about Oscar Wilde and how certain (non-straight) elements of his life bled into his works. So it was surprising to find out that Michael’s major focused on mathematics and science.

You grab a fork from one of the kitchenette drawers before sitting across from Michael. You unwrap the plate and immediately go for a lamb chop. Meaty, with actual flavor. You chew and cover your mouth with your hand. “So how was it?” You asked him.

Michael shrugs. “Unremarkable, mostly. Nothing too surprising.”

You swallow. “Hm.”

“Hm, what?”

“You usually have more complaints over events like these. So something positive must have happened.” You didn’t want to ask further, out of fear you might learn something you’d rather not. “Did you meet someone?”

“Oh, I did.”

You inhale. “Who?”

“Another new student. Name’s Oliver Quick.”

You exhale. And you feel better.

“Quiet. Mostly odd, but,” he shrugs, “I’m not one to talk.” He snickers as he looks at you. It’s the classic dorky snicker that nerds in TV shows and movies always get assigned. To you, it’s sweet, because he doesn’t show it often.

You pick up some quiche. “Do you think he’ll like it here?”

“He’s not one for conversation, really. I had to pull words out of him most of the night. He wouldn’t even ask me a sum when I told him how good I am at maths. I served the topic on a silver platter.”

A pun was there as you swallowed, looking down at your own silver platter. But you know Michael is cross enough when he can’t see the joke in front of him. So you took another bite.

“So, he seems as hopeless at making friends as we are. I guess we’ll find out.”

“Where’d he go after?”

“Dunno,” he said. “I came straight here.”

That forces you to smile. The candles burn around you, hot like your cheeks. The heat prickles and you hope it’s not too obvious in the light.

Michael continues to smile at you, unchanging, so it seems you’re in the clear. And it’s not long until he leans back to gaze at your bookshelf. He points to the empty space in the middle. “What did you read today?”

“Virginia Woolf,” you reply.

“Oh, which one?”

“A Room of One’s Own. A memoir.”

“Ugh.” He scrunches his nose. He hates memoirs. He’s often informed you about how he thinks too many people write memoirs. But he habitually picked the Kate Chopin works from your shelf, so his opinion instantly becomes a moot point. Luckily, he finds them interesting enough to read on his own, so you’re spared from explaining why the main character ultimately hates being married. He picks out The Awakening. And then he looks at you after scanning the synopsis. “What?”

“Ugh.” You copy his tone.

“Don’t be cross with me because you enrolled late. Would you really have rather taken the one about Fitzgerald?”

“At least he and Zelda are more interesting behind the scenes.”

“Ouch.” Michael puts his hand over his chest, a pained expression on his face. “A burning statement from someone who calls themselves a feminist.”

“If I wanted stories about women who hated being married, I’d be at home with my mum and aunts.”

Michael hesitates to snicker again. “Okay, fair point.”

“You can keep that for a few days if you want. I won’t need that until December.”

“You’re not eager to read about…” he squinted at the back of the book. “Edna Potellier?”

“And the sexual awakening that makes her realize she doesn’t want to be a wife and mother anymore? Again? Not until I have to.”

“Wow. Antifeminist and serving spoilers. Your cruelty is limitless.”

You try to kick him. Then again, ‘try’ is a strong word. He dodges anyway before finding the first page.

[lonesome-sometimes]

up on the bookshelf

wheels on the bus 2 and it’s completely different because there is no bus or any form of transport at all really and matty is a librarian but it’s still wheels on the bus 2 (in the brat remix album cover format)

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: public sex, sweet service top matty, age gap, oral (female receiving), slight blood kink when you squint, lovey dovey stuff because I miss matty I’m genuinely a trainwreck right now

minors do not interact!

with your reading list in one hand, you huff in annoyance as you fail to find the last few textbooks you needed for the rest of the semester. admitting your defeat, you carry the rest of your books towards the front desk, already dreading the walk back to campus on the other side of town.

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

he looks up from the book he was engrossed in, startled by the loud thud. he takes a second to register who you were, scrambling to push his bookmark into place before turning his full attention towards you. “y/n? oh my go- hey! hey, how are you? god, I haven’t seen you since-”

“since the really, really long and awkward bus ride home with your wife in our presence after you-” you explain nonchalantly, causing the older to choke on his own spit as you remind him of your rest stop bathroom antics, not that he had ever forgotten.

he laughs nervously, pushing a hand through his shorter curls. “I mean, I guess? anyway, what are you doing here?”

“oh, I go to college here.” you say like its obvious, gesturing to nothing as you look around the empty room. “I just hate our campus library, or just our campus in general I suppose, so I come here to study and take my books out. It’s much quieter here, campus is too…studenty?”

he laughs with you, chuckling softly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I get your point, but aren’t you meant to like, enjoy all of that?” he thinks for a moment, shaking his head softly. “nevermind, that’s not the point. this is crazy, what a nice surprise I-”

“you have a moustache now.” you observe out loud, your tongue working quicker than your brain as your eyes lingered on his upper lip and the new strip of hair there, moving down towards the tight sleeves of his grey tshirt and admiring the way it hugged his frame perfectly. “...and you look like you’ve been working out…don’t tell me you…”

his cheeks tinge pink, swinging his chair slightly away from you as he lets out a nervous breath. “I told he, I mean, not about us! not exactly, I just told her how I felt and here I now am, working day shifts at the local library, waiting for my whole music thing to take off, while she vacates on some island somewhere with her neeew husband.” he draws out the new, politely taking a book from an older lady and wishing her a nice day, turning back towards you. “I’m happy here though, the people are nice and well, you’re here.”

It’s your turn to blush at his words, forgetting how sweet he had been with you in the bathroom moments after he had fucked your throat raw. “oh, come on matty, it’s not like you sat and dreamt about me everyday like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince to come…” you half joke half admit about yourself, causing his cheeks to turn a darker shade of pink at the comparison, his secrets spilling without having even said anything.

“oh I seeee.” you singsong as you lean forward, putting your hands on the desk so that you were leaning over him, letting your oversized tshirt fall off your shoulder slightly and revealing your collarbone. not the most flattering outfit you could have worn, but you weren’t exactly expecting your random one bus stand to show up anytime soon. “been thinking about me, matty?”

he visibly swallows, opening his mouth to answer but instead his eyes widen as a mother and daughter approach the desk. you stand up straight again, slightly embarrassed as you pull your tshirt centre again. you watch the exchange, matty smiling ever so sweetly as he hands the young girl her picture book and again wishes them a lovely day. he turns to you once more, sighing softly. “darling, I don’t think now is a good time, I’m working and-”

“matty, I managed to seduce you into fucking my throat with enough time for small talk afterwards inside the bathroom of a service station during a twenty minute rest stop, all while your wife-”

“-ex wife.” he corrects, smiling softly.

“...ex wife, was sitting back on the bus unaware of how her sweet little husband was crying for me and asking me about my favourite radiohead album, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you can’t have a private conversation with me because you’re at work?”

theres a moment of silence as he looks between you and the empty room, standing up suddenly and grabbing your hand as he pulls you back towards an abandoned section of the library. smiling wide, you expect him to push you up against one of the old bookcases and start kissing you like a man starved as he pulls you in front of him, but it never comes.

Instead, he pulls you in. hands coming up around your waist, he hugs you. unexpected and unsure of what to do at first, you let your arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as you stroke the hair on the back of his neck softly, letting him breathe you in as you stay silent for a moment.

he pulls away, the both of you laughing as you realise how ridiculous this is, not having shared more than ten minutes alone together that didn’t include a quickie in a restroom. “everything okay, matty?” you ask, pushing his hair away from his face and letting your hand rest against his cheekbones as he nods.

“I wanted to erm, thank you, for helping me realise things about my life and marriage, I might not look like anything special at the moment but since meeting you I’ve been able to find my own place, I have a kitten who I adore, and I actually get to work on my music I-” he stops. “I’m really happy y/n, and I owe that to you.”

for a second you’re worried he’s being completely serious. “m-matty, you surely can’t fully believe I’m to blame for all that, you barely even know me I-”

he starts kissing down your collarbone, letting your tshirt fall again as he sinks down down down till he’s almost kneeling in front of you, his hands coming up towards your tshirt, breathing heavy. “no really darling, thank you so, so much.” he breaths, punctuating each so with a wet kiss to your stomach, kissing and licking at each expanse of skin he can reach. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, the other moving to hold the back of hid head through the fabric of your shirt. somehow this felt much more intimate, more naughty, than the restroom ever did.

he reappears from under your shirt, staring up at you with complete adoration as his fingers dance up your thighs and hooking themselves into the waistband of your leggings. “can I please?” he asks ever so politely, although your pants are already being pulled down low enough so that he can access where he wanted before you had chance to answer. your face was on fire.

“been thinking about doing this since I met you, wanted to taste you so bad darling.” he breaths out against you sending goosebumps across your skin, lips so close to you as he teases before finally settling on your core.

you desperately try to stay quiet, the fact that you were both in a library being some sick torture and punishment for engaging in infidelity beforehand because good god was he good with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit like he was desperate. his large hands almost enveloped your waist, holding you in place as he began to fuck you on his tongue up against the shelf behind you. you thread your fingers through his salt and pepper locks, frowning when it was a little too short to pull. still, you let your fingers stay where they were, your lips bitten red as you tried to conceal your noises.

suddenly he stops, pulling away from you with only a trail of spit connecting the two of you, lips glistening with your wetness. you look down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try and catch your breathe. “w-why’d you stop?”

he giggles before diving in again like a teenager, his hands moving to hook around the backs of your thighs now. you moan around your fist, desperatly trying to stay as quiet as you can but failing miserably. he shushes you, the vibration from his vocal chords not helping your situation as you feel yourself quickly approaching the edge. “m-matty I-”

he pulls away for a small second, eyes wide and hungry. “please cum for me darling, need to feel you cum on my tongue-” he begs, quickly diving back in as he licks you through your orgasm, groaning softly as he feels you clench around his tongue, lapping at your folds as he cleans up your orgasm.

“fuck-” you bring a finger up towards your lip, blood pooling on your tongue from where you had to bite to keep quiet unless you wanted the whole library to hear you. he pulls your leggings back up and over your thighs, the both of you silently thanking somebody for the fact that nobody was looking for cooking books. he smiles up at you dopily, allowing himself to catch his breath before standing back up.

“good?” he breaths out, pulling your bloodied finger to his lips to lick it clean. You couldn’t find the words to answer, nodding as you watch his lips sucking your fingers entranced. He pulls off them with a pop, smiling at the way he left you speechless.

you both forget where you are until an older male comes around the corner, causing you both to jump away from each other. he doesn’t suspect much, why would he? shooting you both a small smile before turning and going back the way he came, sending you both laughing.

“so…” he begins as your giggles come to a stop, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t actually finish up in here for another hour, but I could drive you back to campus? your books seemed heavy, and I’m guessing you don’t have a car…”

god, you were so smitten for him and you had only spent less than an hour with him alone at most. “...or I could come to yours?”

he smiles, thinking for a moment as you two start walking back towards the desk, to no surprise the place was still pretty much empty. “wanna see a picture of lilah?”

you squeal at the idea of singing his kitten, sending apologies to nobody at the sudden loud noise coming from you once again. “yes please.” you nod and whisper, the idea of seeing both matty and lilah filling you with warmth.

you were right, the local library was definitely better than the campus library.

[f9clementine]

The Hiccups

an “Enchanted To Meet You” anniversary mini-special

“Alright, this is the last box,” Minho announced as he came through the door, kicking it shut behind him. 

You looked up, unable to keep from smiling as he plopped the box labeled ‘useless kitchen stuff’ next to the couch. “We’ve officially moved, then. Now we just have to move in.” You pretended to turn back to the box you were unpacking, keeping an eye on the man out of your peripheral.

Without fail, he sauntered over, settling down next to you on the floor gracefully. “What’s the difference?”

“Moving is putting everything you own into a box and relocating them,” you reached into the box, pulling out a hardcover book. “Moving in is unpacking that box and then carefully putting those things in a new place,” you handed him the book and watched as he slid it onto the bookshelf you had been reshelving. “And then, rearranging them over and over until it finally feels like home.” You leaned over him, taking the same book and placing it onto a higher shelf.

“Well,” you felt his hands suddenly settle on your waist, gently pulling you closer until you were settled on his lap. “I didn’t realize that my jagi was so wise.”

You rolled your eyes, but wrapped your arms around his neck. “You say that like I’m a dummy or something.”

Min chuckled, his thumb finding an exposed sliver of skin between your shirt and jeans. You felt him begin to slowly rub it up and down, almost distracting you from his next words. “Not a dummy,” he quietly disputed, leaning in and nosing along your exposed neck. You felt, rather than heard, his words. “Just distracted by other things at times.”

You giggled, tilting your head back on almost instinct as he placed little kisses along your skin. “That’s an awfully nice way to put i-” 

Mew.

Minho pulled back, furrowing his brow as he looked at you, “did you hear that?”

You frowned, gingerly placing a hand to your chest. “I-I did.. I think it came from-”

Mew.

You both stared at each other, confused before you felt another hiccup bubbling up. Instead of the typical ‘hic!’ you were used to, you watched as your boyfriend’s eyes widened as a crystal clear ‘meow’ came forth instead.

The apartment was silent for a moment.

“Why am I meowing?” You asked, not really expecting the warlock in front of you to have an answer.

“Oh jagi,” Minho sighed, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “It’s probably a side effect from the curse.”

“You don’t meow!” You cried, shoulders jumping as you let out another mew. 

“I also haven’t had the hiccups yet, so I might,” Minho soothed you, brushing his thumb across the top of your cheek. “I can ask the rest of the coven to look into getting rid of it, if you’d like.”

You raised an eyebrow, recognizing his tone. “But?” You prompted.

Minho smiled at you, bright like the sun rising in your own living room. “But,” he continued, leaning up and gently kissing your other cheek. “It’s very cute.”

“Cute enough we just leave it?”

Min shrugged, trailing his hand slowly down your neck and over your arm. “We could.” He suggested.

You groaned, knowing you were powerless in the face of this man. “Only on the condition we never tell Seungmin.”

Minho laughed, his hand now settling on yours where it rested on his chest. “Just Seungmin?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling his fingers thread through yours, “he would never let me live it down.”

“So what, you’ll just never hiccup in front of him ever again?”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “It’ll just stay our little secret.”

“Hmm… I like that.” Minho whispered. “Our little secret.”

“At least for a little bit,” you whispered back before leaning down, gently placing your lips against his.

“I’ll take your secret to the grave,” Minho swore and you giggled, unable to take him seriously. 

Right as you were about to suggest you both get back to unpacking, another sudden ‘meow’ replaced your words. You groaned, resting your head against Minho’s shoulder. “I hope I never get the hiccups at work, then.”

“If you do, you have to record it for me.”

You sighed, imagining the rows and rows of cats in the veterinarian office suddenly being offended at your pronunciation and the absolute giggles Minho would let out as he watched the playback. 

“Whatever you want, Min.”

a/n: It's the one year anniversary of starting Enchanted to Meet You and I wanted to celebrate it in a small, cutesy way by writing a cute little blurb of Minho and his Jagi.

I'm also hoping this will help me get back into a writing groove as well so please keep an eye out for more You Had Me at Hello chapters as well as my other little text fics!

[junicult]

I love how you write harvey sm!!! You had me swooning with every words !! So sweet, short, and straight to the point but very flavorful and entertaining! i'm so happy i came across your blog !

I have a prompt that u can feel free to use!

What do you think Harvey is like when he & the farmer just got married? For example, is he very timid that he couldn't sleep when next to the farmer? Is he very hesitant to hold them? Or other things u think/headcanon? Would love to read your thoughts! Thank you so much for your time !!<3

!! harvey as your new husband

contains ; domestic fluff. another post of me rambling lol. entirely sfw! gn!farmer / gender is never implied. short drabble.

note ; i’m in a harvey brainrot rn that every time i try to sit down to write for the other bachelors, i just end up staring at my screen doing nothing 😓

when you were only dating, it wasn’t rare for harvey to come over while you were working after he found some time of his own.

even once, after you invited him over and sighed about how dirty you felt the cottage was since you hardly had time to clean—he became accustomed to do so just for you.

bringing over his own cleaning supplies just to sweep the dust, help with laundry, clean your kitchen and make dinner for you.

and he didn’t even mind doing all of it, just to help you lift the weight of your chores.

so after that one time, and you came home to see a squeaky clean home, and your excellent boyfriend after a particularly exhausting day—you could’ve cried.

not to mention, he goes the great mile. those large yellow gloves over his hands, non-slip shoes and a hardware apron over his clothes so he wouldn’t get himself dirty.

some may say it’s a bit dramatic, but he says prepared.

anyways, it became a routine he was fond of doing.

harvey came over a lot. to the point where his own house didn’t really feel like home anymore.

he hated those nights when he couldn’t come over, forced to sleep in his own bed without you by his side. it would take him longer to fall asleep if he couldn’t feel you next to him. he probably had to hug a pillow just to feel something lol.

so when you got married, it’s safe to say he was ecstatic to be moving out of his lonely apartment. especially when you made time to come help him, packing stuff in boxes.

it really made him realize how life changing it is. to see you labeling each box, sorting through his cds and tapes while talking about your future together.

“i think these would look nice in our living room, i could move my bookshelf over and we could squeeze this in…” you ramble on, face full of concentration.

it made his heart gush, even just hearing you call it our living room.

when you’d “ooo” and “aaa” at items of his you looked forward to decorating the house with, and “uhh” at the ones you didn’t. he couldn’t possibly be upset, if anything, he’d laugh at your honesty. there’s nothing that’d make him upset right now.

so when you were finally married, you had to work but he spent the majority of the day squeezing his stuff into the house like you both planned, it still felt right.

you didn’t have to be beside him, helping him unbox for him to be happy. he found everything seemed to fit in place.

settling in didn’t feel as much of a task as you both thought it’d be. there was always a cloud of sadness when he’d have to leave, so finally that experience was tarnished after the knot was tied.

there’s no leaving anymore, because he always comes right back.

at this point, his nerves being around you were fizzled, but of course he still got butterflies when he’d see you.

any moment he was intimate with you still made him feel much younger with the way his heart would pound and his palms would grow sweaty. even if you were just leaning in to kiss him.

so the first night you two were living together as a married couple—i don’t think he’d be so nervous.

or at least, not nervous in a bad way.

“which side of the bed should i sleep on?”

“harvey, we’ve slept together before. this isn’t new.” you tease.

“well we’ve never slept together as a married couple who lives in the same house. this is the start to the rest of our lives, i want to make sure we’re making the right decision,” and after he realizes what he implied, he’s widening his eyes and shaking his head, “no! not like that! as in, what if i sleep on the right side, but i sleep on my right side so my back is always turned to you—“

“harvey, honey…i’m not going to be mad at you if i wake up and you’re not facing me.” you giggle.

he really knows how to overthink everything.

but once you’re finally tucked in bed together (you on the right, him on the left) i don’t think he’ll overthink at this point.

by now, you’re both so in love that he doesn’t second guess reaching over to hold you anymore. he doesn’t need to rethink all of that.

when you latch onto him, pressing your face into his chest and wrapping your arms around him—he’s bound to get butterflies. you may even hear his heart beat a little quicker. but he’s not shy to give you the same treatment.

if he could, he’d hold you all day. he never wants to let go.

[wosoimagines]

Tall Tales - Alyssa Naeher/Reader

part one | part two

prompt: part two to Our Own Litle Book Club where Alyssa helps open up a book store.

warnings: none.

words: 1562

i hope you guys like this cause i'm hoping to get back into writing and maybe even setting a schedule for it to help keep me on track since i'm working two jobs and can get pretty busy these days cause i've really missed writing.

Y/N POV

“So, I have a surprise.”

Alyssa furrowed her brow as I pushed the box across the table toward her. I kept a close eye on her reaction as she opened the box.

Alyssa blinked once. Then twice. And then a third time before she reached into the box.

“Are you asking me to move in?”

I chuckled a little as Alyssa held the key up in between us.

“Not yet,” I shook my head. “I bought the place next door with the money I made from my book. Which reminds me, I really do need to do something for Rose the next time she’s in town since she recommended it to all of your teammates and on her Instagram.”

“Why did you buy the place next door?”

I looked down at the table as I fiddled with the mug that had my latte in it. I had wanted Alyssa’s opinion, but she had been so busy preparing for the World Cup and the last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to help me with it.

“I want to open a bookstore. Is it a bad idea?”

Alyssa stayed quiet as she put the key back into the box that was sitting on the table. We had only been together for a couple of months, but her opinion on this meant a lot to me. I held my breath until Alyssa reached across the table to grab ahold of my hand.

“I think it’s a great idea. Do you have a name for it?”

“That’s a work in progress,” I said as I grinned at her. “I was hoping that you’d help me with that. And maybe help me fix it up? I’m not in a rush and Arthur said he’d keep me on the schedule until 11 so that I could work on it in the afternoon until it’s ready to open and then we’ll come up with a plan for my schedule here too.”

“How much work needs to be done?”

“I could show you around when you finish that coffee.”

Alyssa shook her head as she turned back to her coffee that was only half gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grinned as I stepped back once we had moved the bookshelf into place. Alyssa wiped the sweat off her brow as she joined my side.

“Now we just have to put the books on the shelves.” Alyssa let out a small groan as I waved her off. “I can do it tomorrow with the others.”

“You sure you want the others to put the books up with you?”

I rolled my eyes at that before I tossed the water bottle over to her. Alyssa had met most of the people I had hired but she had insisted that the two of us do the work ourselves to make it our little project.

“You have practice tomorrow and I have the day off from the coffee shop. Besides, it would help if the others know where everything is at so that they can help people find what they’re looking for when we open next week,” I said. I had been training everyone who was hired how to use our system, but it had been easy since a couple of the people coming to work at the bookstore also work at the coffee shop with me. “Besides, you have your national team camp to worry about.”

“I can always tell them that I have personal stuff going on. I want to be here for opening day.”

“Alyssa, you know you can’t do that,” I swatted at her shoulder. We had arguments over the topic that past few days now that I had set the date for my grand opening, and it happened to be while Alyssa was going to be at camp. She’d ultimately be in town as their national team camp was taking place in Chicago, but Alyssa was worried that she wouldn’t be able to stop by for opening day. “I won’t let you put your own career on hold because of me.”

“I want to.”

“And I don’t want you to. What if they refuse to call you up later because you took time away from the team?”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Absolutely not, Alyssa. I’m your partner, it’s part of my job to worry about you. I could never forgive myself if they refused to call you up because you took time for me.”

“So, you can support me as my partner, but I’m not allowed to support you.”

I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose. Alyssa didn’t even have a schedule for her camp days yet so there wasn’t any telling if she would have to miss opening day or not.

“Look, the team is coming for the soft launch. It was supposed to be a surprise in case you’re going to be busy on opening day,” I explained. I had reached out to Becky to help me set up the surprise. “You guys will be the first customers that we have. I wanted to make sure that you could still be a part of the opening, but I won’t let you put your own life on hold for me. And we’ll have the first book club meeting when you get done with camp. Okay?”

Alyssa stayed silent as she nodded her head. I was a little upset that I had to ruin the surprise, but if it helped to quell Alyssa’s nerves about possibly missing the opening day then I guess it wasn’t too bad to ruin the surprise.

“We’ll be the first customers?”

“Pinky promise.”

I held my pinky up so she could lock her own around mine. After all, pinky promises were the most important promises ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grinned as I rocked on my hills as the girls made their way toward me. I wrapped Alyssa up in a hug when she got close enough. We had been on the phone just this morning, but nothing compared to being able to see her in person.

“You ready to see how it turned out?” I softly asked her.

“You know I am.”

I pulled away from her before turning to unlock the door. I waited for the girls to pile into the store before I turned on the lights. Most of the girls gasped or squealed when they could finally see how the store turned out. I didn’t mind as they started to go about the store.

I did step up next to Alyssa though as I grabbed ahold of her hand. My eyes were drawn to the display that she was looking at. There were quite a few displays about the store. We had mystery book dates scattered throughout the store, along with a banned book display and even one for our employee favorites.

“In the beginning,” Alyssa read out loud. She looked down at me. “Are those the books we’ve recommended to each other?”

“I couldn’t have opened this place without you. I wanted to do something a little extra special for the two of us,” I admitted. I had even gone as far as to make sure that all the books were in order of how we had each recommended them to each other as just another way to tell our own story. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good, because you guys are also working opening day as well.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you guys are going to come and work opening day. More press for the store and you get to come to opening day.”

Alyssa grinned before she pulled me closer to give me a kiss. I couldn’t help but melt in her arms. I was getting to live my own little story and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Sonny called out, causing Alyssa and I to pull away from each other. Neither of us being comfortable with showing too much PDA around Alyssa’s teammates. “How did you get ‘Tall Tales’ for the name?”

“You don’t have to tell her,” Alyssa said to me, but I was already shaking my head at her.

“Alyssa loves telling me all of the national team tales you guys get up to and she’s tall, so it kind of just worked out perfectly.”

“I knew you loved all the shenanigans that we get up to, Uncle!”

Alyssa groaned at that.

“Is ‘shenanigans’ your word of the day, Sonnett?” Alyssa asked. I immediately brought my hand up to cover my mouth to keep the laughter from spilling out. “I’m so proud of you for being able to use such a big word in a sentence.”

“Don’t be mean,” I said as I pushed Alyssa away from me.

“Let’s be realistic,” Alyssa said. She caught sight of the book in Sonny’s hands. “Are you sure you should let her read your book? She might have trouble with some of the words and subtext and all the hidden meanings in it.”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay, Sonny. You can ask me all the questions about it,” I said to the blonde defender before turning to Alyssa. “And you are getting no more kisses until you can be nice to Sonny.”

Alyssa groaned at that as I moved closer to Sonny to talk to her about some of the themes that she would find in my book.

[mizkit]

new blog post: The Mysterious Case of the Missing Sewing Machine (parts)

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/the-mysterious-case-of-the-missing-sewing-machine-parts/

The Mysterious Case of the Missing Sewing Machine (parts)

So as you will perhaps recall, last October I made my son a Halloween costume and put my sewing machine away.

In February, when my MIL came to visit, she wanted to enact some repairs on some of our quilts, so my husband got the sewing machine out, and…

…half of the base of the sewing machine had disappeared. The extension table/storage box part, you know? That fits around the needle plate/bobbin holder? It was gone. Inexplicably gone.

My sewing machine is only ever in one of two places: inside its sewing table, or on top of it. Mostly the former. I didn’t even sew any of Indy’s costume downstairs, so the machine went from inside the table to on top of it to inside it again. And it had the entire base when I put it away, because why wouldn’t it?

But it did not have the entire base when my MIL needed it.

The base was nowhere I could find in the bedroom where I did the sewing. I admit I had not taken the room apart on a molecular level, but HOW COULD IT HAVE GONE ANYWHERE? It’s fairly large. It’s distinctive looking. Critically, I did not remove it for any reason that I can remember before putting it away BECAUSE WHY WOULD I???

I didn’t want to take the room apart on a molecular level. I’ve been putting it off, because, I mean, I guess I had to, but… I had gotten to the point of figuring I would have to try to see if I could get a new part (although it was from astore here that has weekly specials of household items and I really don’t know if spare parts would be available, but…) or buy a new one, which. I mean. Okay. I guess. If I have to. But. Just. HOW COULD IT HAVE DISAPPEARED????

Well.

Guess what Ted found while he was tidying up during gaming on Sunday night.

It was in the office on a bookshelf next to his desk, buried under other things.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I have NO IDEA. There is NO EARTHLY REASON for it to have gone there. Ever. I don’t KNOW.

Ted’s like “I obviously moved it from the dining room into there when I was tidying up, it was between stacks of my gaming stuff so I just picked it all up and moved it in there,” and I’m like, yes, that’s very likely, BUT WHAT WAS IT DOING IN THE DINING ROOM? I DID NO SEWING IN THE DINING ROOM!

Him: no you were sewing Indy’s costume in the dining room, it must have just been stuck there somehow

Me: that was in 2023, last year I did all the sewing upstairs in the bedroom because we moved the little sewing table from the small bedroom and it just seemed easier to do the sewing up there than jackass the machine up and down stairs every evening.

Him: …oh. Oh, you’re right. Wha…????

Me: I DON’T KNOW!!!!

I mean there must be some answer that is not actually “Borrowers” or “gremlins” or “timeline slip” but I honestly, deeply, profoundly, truly cannot remember taking the base off the sewing maching and bringing it downstairs, so I have no idea what happened.

On the positive side, though, now I can sew again. :)

[hypersonic04]

Teacher!ross and reader moving in together and organizing Ross’ books to her bookshelf but realizing they’ll need more room for it all, add fluffy stuff, talking about their book collection etc

This is so sweet. You’re both big readers, maybe you a bit more so than him with the nature of your subject, so when you move in together, the book situation is definitely interesting.

One of the things that attracted both of you to the new house was the HUGE bookcase in the office - it’s one of those where it’s fitted into the wall, floor to ceiling shelves, and there’s no way Ross could walk away from it when he saw the way your eyes lit up. So now, about 4 months later, he’s looking at you stood with your arms folded, middle of the office, his t-shirt on, the cogs turning in your brain as you try to think of a way to get all 7 boxes of books onto the bookshelf. He comes up to you presses a kiss to the side of your head, ‘what’s going on in that head of yours, hm?’, arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

You decide to just make a start - he hands you a book at a time, starting with his history books, and you can’t help but read the blurb of each one, asking him questions, where he bought it, what it’s about, etc. He loves it, explaining everything to you and watching as you take it all in. This does, however, mean that the job takes twice the amount of time it should on paper lol.

The two of you end up sat on the floor on the office, you in between his legs and your back resting against his chest, having conversations about the books you’re pulling out of the boxes. It’s dark outside and neither of you could be bothered to get up and turn the light on, so it’s just the landing light casting through the doorway. His voice is close to your ear, every so often pressing a kiss to the space between your hair and ear when he particularly likes one of your observations. I think you get to some of the last boxes (eventually, it’s definitely past midnight), and you’re both kind of just like where are we going to put the rest of them lol. Because he’s so unbelievably whipped, he decides that he’s going to build you a bookshelf in the living room ‘because you need more room to display all of the books I’m going to buy you’. He sticks to his word, and a few weeks later he buys you a special edition of Wuthering Heights, your favourite, writing in the front page of it: To my beautiful y/n. My Catherine to my Heathcliff. Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are most definitely the same. You cry a little bit I think, because he is so very right <3.

[have-some-heals]

Ardent-2 & Nova on the future

⚠️ Spoilers ⚠️

A ring of light circled the small ghost as it flexed in and out adjusting to the new shell the titan had found for them.

“This feels a bit plain” Nova said after a moment. The ghost’s titan was laid out on the ground surrounded by old magazines that had been collected. A large sheet of paper laid in front of them. Gently the titan flipped through pages and every now and again ripped one out.

“The idea is to blend in while standing out… it’s called peacocking” the titan pointed at an article in the magazine. “You said you want Veles to notice you so maybe this new shell will do the trick” ripping another page out of the old magazine Ardent-2 added it to a pile of other photos.

“And what is it you are doing again” the ghost asked after expanding in anger but biting back the argument and instead changing the subject to the odd behavior of the titan.

“After the mask incident last week I went to Eris to talk and she said something about this being one of the methods her therapist recommended for trauma… it’s called a seeing sheet.” The titan sat up a bit and looked at the ghost. “ I’m supposed to take pictures from these old printings and cut them out. Then I stick them in this bigger paper and I hang it somewhere to remind me what I’m aiming for…”

“Isn’t that why you guardians have that Bray site where you press the little add button and things get added to a digital folder?” The ghost moved over to the computer and pulled the screen up navigating to the built in app. The message icon in the corner flashed as the ghost looked through what the titan had already added. “Are you planning a togetherness ceremony?” The ghost asked as the images were mostly stills of other events. Every few adds there would be some image of a dress or suit, or a food arrangement, a table setting, and even some rings”

“No, that’s just in case one day they ever do get to talking” the titan said standing up after a few moments. He moved to the screen and skimmed the messages deleting a few from a particular warlock.

One message caught his eye though and he quickly opened it.

Ardent-2,

Come see me when you can,

Crow

The message was short but had been sent recently. Ardent-2 waived his hand sending the screen away and set course for the helm. “Wonder what he could want with us”

———

The Helm looked the same as ever as Ardent-2 made his way to where he had been told crow was. The newer guardian rarely called on him so he figured it must be important.

Crow was standing in the hall where he normally stood, only Ardent was noticing some odd details. More books, more furniture… more stuff. ‘I wonder if they moved him into the hall’ the titan thought as he looked around.

“Guardian, thank you for joining me” Crow spoke softly and steadily as ever. “I hope I didn’t panic you with my message but glint insisted we see you in person to get a report on the headless ones.” Crow gestured to a small bench and indicted the titan to sit.

“Oh I’m not much of a researcher” The titan sat on the bench cautiously- Not putting all his weight on it. “And to be honest I’ve been out of sorts recently…” he looked over the other guardian a pang of guilt washing over him. Who was he to miss Amanda and pity himself when Amanda and Crow had- his thoughts were cut off.

“I understand. I know what it feels like to learn something shocking about yourself.” Crow offered the titan a smile and sat next to him. “When I found out I had caused, no had planned Caydes death…” Crow took a breath and then rested a hand in the titans back. “If you find you can’t keep looking back then I suggest you find something to look forward to.” He stood slowly and gave a nod to the titan before moving to a bookshelf to straighten a few of the books. “If you learn anything Glint would love to know… and here this was in Amanda’s things” Crow handed a photo of the titan and pilot working on his ship. The expo was covered in oil and Amanda was clearly laughing at him.

Ardent-2 took a moment to look over the photo before pocketing it. He then nodded at Crow as he stood. “I know it’s not my place but Amanda would give me a lashing if I didn’t say anything to ya while I was here… she’d be okay with you falling again. In fact, the Amanda I knew would be pretty upset with us both…” The titan didn’t hang about to talk more about the sensitive matter.

Crow waited till he was sure he was alone before opening the book where the photo had been inside there were a few other photos. The one in top now that of Amanda and a hunter who had taken over Caydes ship. The pair were working on the inside and it seemed like both were unaware of the photo being taken. He flipped the card over and traced the names with a finger.

Amanda & Ace, finally fixing Caydes comms

Crow closed the book and slid it back into its place. He hesitated a moment before pulling up his messages and entering the hunters information. He typed on word.

Ramen?

His finger hovered over the send button, his hand trembling slightly as he looked over the one word message. The words the titan had spoke rang true and Crow knew that like his dark past he had to move forward with this loss as well.

With a breath he pulled his hand back having sent the message before he could chicken out. Behind him the sound of sliding doors echoed down the hall. Soon the sound of Eris talking reached his ear.

“Don’t make me call yours”

[syoish]

TEN SECONDS - EREN/READER

I haven't posted about it on here because I'm SHY ABOUT THIS SHIT but I started posting the Attack on Titan Eren/Reader fic that I've been working on for the last few months.

It's kinda a coming of age fic about asexuality, overcoming past trauma, and going through the motions of getting better. Writing it was a really personal experience and I'm extremely proud of it.

Chapter 6/16 was posted this morning.

It's prewritten and I post a new chapter every day

PREVIEW BELOW THE CUT:

It starts at the end.

With the soft thud of your last moving box meeting the worn carpet floor in your new bedroom.

You can hear your new roommate down the hall in the kitchen, shuffling things around to make space for you in one of the cupboards.

Not that you have much, anyway. It’d been too much of a scramble when you were packing so all you’d really managed to shove into your beat-up minivan were the essentials. You try not to think about the things you forgot, but it’s impossible not to. Especially as your eyes move around the pathetic collection of mismatched boxes surrounding you.

The TV.

Your bookshelf.

The printer.

It’s all stupid things. Material things that you shouldn’t be upset you had to leave behind, but you can’t help the empty feeling that you get when you think about them. You tried to remember what your mom had told you on the phone two nights ago. Your mom. Because she was the only one you could turn to even though you’re supposed to be an adult that can handle yourself just fine.

'Don’t worry about the physical things.' Her muffled voice had come through your phone as you pressed it tightly against your ear, holding your hand to your mouth to hold back a choked sob. 'We can figure all of that out after. Just think about if you actually want to be there or not.'

You hadn’t. 

Not for a long time.

But leaving someone who’d been tied to your life for almost seven years wasn’t easy.

Even though it happened less than 24 hours ago, everything was still such a blur. You feel yourself forgetting bits and pieces of it and you’re scared. Scared for what forgetting means. Scared that if you forget too much… you’ll go back.

You force yourself to remember everything you can. Force yourself not to forget.

'You’re not that brave, stop pretending you are! This is an act that you’ll snap out of!'

'I can’t live without you!! You can’t leave me alone like this!'

'I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I’m sorry, I’ll stop just please don’t leave you can’t leave!!'

'NO ONE IS GOING IN OR OUT OF THIS DOOR!'

You swallow a lump in your throat as your hand reflexively moves to your bruised wrist. The clear purple imprints against it. Your fingers brush softly across the bruises. You push down against them, out of a sadistic desire to feel something. The dull pain slowly makes its way up your arm as your ears ring. You press harder. Harder.

Harder.

And then you drop your hands and tug your sleeve down to cover the marks.

Your roommate moves into the doorway. “The cupboard next to the fridge is empty.” She tells you.

“Thanks.” You reply.

“No problem.”

Then there’s silence.

Even though you go to the same university, you hadn’t met Mikasa Ackerman until a few hours ago when you were downstairs with your shitty old van packed with all your belongings.

You’d found her roommate wanted ad the night before and thankfully, even though you were desperate for anything, what she was looking for seemed to fit:

Student. Female. Quiet. Clean. No parties.

Basically, you in a nutshell. Thank god.

Perhaps sensing the awkwardness of the silence, Mikasa pushed away from the door frame. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything. You can move stuff around in the living room.”

You nodded and she left. 

Turning back to the room, you take a deep breath before opening your first box. 

Your hands tremble as they meet the cardboard. You feel your face become warm as your vision blurs.

You close your eyes and take a breath.

There are so many emotions running through you and you can’t put a name to a single one. Normally, there’s a voice saying something, yelling something, demanding something; but even that voice is silenced.

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to dig your nails into your head so you can rip the feelings right out.

You feel so empty. You feel so full. You feel desperate and lost and confused and so fucking broken.

You’ve never felt more broken.

Useless useless pathetic useless selfish useless idiot selfish pathetic bitch.

Ah. The voice is there.

“Ten seconds.” You softly mumble to yourself. It feels a little silly to be saying it out loud, but it cuts the voice off before she can say more. “All you have to do is survive for ten seconds.”

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6..

7…

8…

9…

10.

Your eyes remain firmly closed, and the voice remains silent. You made it ten seconds. If you can make it ten seconds, you can make it ten seconds again, right?

So, you start to count:

1…

           2…

                      3…

       4…

                                       5…

[domi-scu]

Day off, hallelujah!

The plan was to start with some shopping at Vernissage and then look at the main touristy parts of Yerevan. To begin with, I forgot my hat in the room so I was very aware I’m risking a heatstroke but thankfully, that was avoided as the city centre has loads of trees that cool things down quite significantly. The Vernissage market was larger than expected and I think I looked through everything multiple times. This meant that my tourist day turned into a shopping day with some great finds.

The handmade cashmere scarf was the biggest win. It looked beautiful and I knew I wanted it right away but knowing how expensive it probably was, I hesitated. I also knew that I’ll be given a higher price as a tourist so I googled how much cashmere costs and wasn’t expecting anything below £50 AT BEST. I figured I would ask and just walk away said but when the woman said £14????? I have a new scarf. Another great find was a tiny bookshelf carved out of wood with miniature song books by an Armenian songwriter (I think. The language barrier is real.)

Crossing the streets was a bit of an experience. It took me a while to figure out because there seems to be no rhyme or reason to it so I just had to wait for a local to show up and follow their lead for a while. It’s one way to do it!

I ended up spending £50 at the market after 2.5h so I figured that was enough for one day and moved on to a café and lunch. Touristy stuff will have to come later. For how little I’ve seen, I walked a surprising amount so by the time I finished my food, I was glad to go back to the hotel to drop things off and take another taxi back to the centre to a music marketing workshop.

The information was totally outside of what I do but I did learn a thing or two that I might try to apply. Don’t ask me what, I need to think on it for a while. During the networking session after, I got to know a local artist whose goal it is to collect and record lullabies from around the world. How innovative and interesting. She kindly invited me to join her and half the Portuguese band called Malotira at a ‘hidden away café with the best coffee around’.

It was raining as we left so we got pretty soaked but I got to experience the local metro! And get told off for taking photos in it too- who knew it’s not allowed? I'm also really curious to know why. Maybe tourists tend to fall of the escalators when they take selfies.

My new friend wasn’t lying about this place. We got to choose from about 20 kinds of Colombian coffees. I opted to have mine with ice cream and we also got some homemade chocolate with it too. Both the coffee and chocolate were indeed one of the best I’ve ever had.

We headed back just in time to catch the concert of the best tar player in Armenia with a visiting Albanian polyphonic group- that was very new to me and, once again, impressive. The entire group along with the EU ambassador and one of the UK guys went to a nearby beer garden afterwards so I joined them for drinks along with the other half of Malotira band. One of them being from Chile, the other one from UK (as it turns out, none of the guys from the Portuguese band are actually Portuguese).

As we were chatting, one of them mentioned that he once played a gig in Slovakia. He couldn’t remember where but said he really loved the venue and all he can remember is that it was a train station that was turned into a music venue. I knew immediately where that was- my favourite venue in my hometown. What a coincidence!

As we were slowly getting kicked out because they were closing, we asked for our individual bills- only to find out that the EU ambassador already paid everything (and forgot his tie there in the process). How lovely of him. I then got talked into going next door because apparently this is the place to get the best cognac. And who am I to argue with that, especially when I have multiple meetings and a panel tomorrow? I joined in and was given a 10 year old cognac. I’m no expert but it was surprisingly enjoyable. We finally headed back to the hotel and I was asleep around 2am.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Prelude Chapter 2

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Master Post - Patreon

Dreaming was an interesting experience for Blood-Wraith. At first he thought he had been woken up early, but then it became clear that he was somewhere else. He found himself floating in a sea of clouds that billowed and shrunk. They were all gray and rumbled every now and then. A rhythmic droning could be heard, yet it had no obvious source. He tried to move forward, but nothing changed. And interacting with the clouds was like grasping at air. It felt like something was supposed to be there, but Blood-Wraith woke up before he could figure out what that thing was. A tad annoyed, he sat up in his bed.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up,” Dragoslava remarked, sitting in a chair near the beds.

“Did I leave the tower last night?”

“I don’t think so. Why? What’s the matter?”

Blood-Wraith thought for a second, then began talking about his experience. “It was so odd and foreboding…foreboding? Um, I’m not sure how to describe it, honestly.”

“To me it sounds like you had your first dream” Dragoslava replied as she rummaged through a bookshelf.

“What’s a dream?”

“Read this when you get the chance, it has everything you need to know in it…”

Blood-Wraith studied the book he had been handed. “The Dream Realm and the Complexity of Dreams…” He quickly skimmed through it. “So I was in another realm last night?”

Dragoslava nodded. “Yup, and a pretty odd one at that. Now come, Desislav has got breakfast ready.”

Back at the dining hall, the tall satyr was waiting patiently by the same trolley from before, rhythmically tapping his hoof. This time there was pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, and drinks ready to be served. Happy to see Blood-Wraith still around, Desislav sat both of them down. It was nothing fancy, just a basic breakfast to wake everyone up. Plus he did not want to overwhelm the juvenile entity given how young he was. Regardless, Blood-Wraith was fascinated by how different the food was from the stew. He did need to be taught how to use a knife and fork, but was able to quickly get the hang of it.

“Pancakes aren’t the most typical breakfast food if you ask me, but they’re one of my favorites, especially with homemade syrup,” Desislav pointed out.

“So Blood, we’re not going to head to the planet you found quite yet” Dragoslava announced, then ate some bacon.

“Why’s that?”

“I haven’t quite figured out how to get there yet…” It was easy to tell she was a little disappointed.

Desislav chuckled. “Well, you could always consult that Corentin person. Rumor has it that he stayed in the city.”

Dragoslava gave him an incredulous look. “How in blue blazes did you find out about that?”

“Who’s Corentin?” Blood-Wraith cut in.

“Oh, he’s just a self-professed scientist that vanished one day… more of a mad scientist if you ask my parents” Dragoslava explained. “I don’t trust him and we don’t need him. I got a demon on the horn who can take us there.”

This caught Desislav’s interest. “So you’re using Necromancy? I always wondered how that would work in a place like The Unlight. Earth makes sense, but the Unlight?”

“The thing is that I tried to use Alchemy to build a craft, but it didn’t work out the way I thought it would.”

“Heh, maybe you should ask you-know-who…” Desislav noticed the slight glare Dragoslava was giving him. “Ahem, yeah, that-that stuff can happen.”

Dragoslava exhaled as she facepalmed. “I love it when things refuse to work… So anyways, Blood-Wraith, we are going to head out to another location I scouted out. It’s called The Great Stone Lake.”

“Well then… Erm, what’s so great about it?” he inquired.

“Glad you asked. The lake is unique in that it is as big as an ocean and has a bed of stones that jut up to the surface. Rumors say that an entire civilization lies at the center, unaware of what lies beyond the waters that surround them… Supposedly on the last bit, however.”

Blood-Wraith was hooked. “Are we going to go visit them?”

“Well firstly we need to confirm that they exist, but secondly, no. My first expedition to The Valley of Eons taught me when in doubt, leave it be.”

“Oh, okay then…” Blood-Wraith was disappointed.

“Don’t worry, buddy; Some people are just best left undisturbed” Desislav reassured him with a pat on the back. Something then occurred to him. “Hey, wait a second! Drago, what about your biplane?”

“I’m working on fixing it. Kind of hard when all of the mechanics are off chasing The Beast of Old and the main routes to the Market District are being patrolled by goons and cultists…”

The journey to the lake was taken on foot, just in case anyone was at the shore. It took longer, but it allowed Blood-Wraith to properly experience The Unlight and what it was like. That day, the sky was full of swirling clouds that were pale orange with hints of pink and soft yellow. A light showed through the clouds, but it was unclear if it was a moon or a star. Something of particular interest that he noticed was that the landscape did not seem definitive. It felt like it could alter at any moment, despite not changing all that much. It was definitely worth making a mental note of, if incredibly confusing.

“You may not have realized it yet, but we’re actually quite far away from The Iron City by now. I believe we’re out at least half a lightyear” Dragoslava pointed out, referencing a book with a shifting map in it.

It took a second, but then it hit Blood-Wraith like a bag of bricks. “Wait, how exactly?!” One of the books he had read previously had given him basic knowledge on the concept of distance.

“Time is irrelevant here. We experience it, but we’re not subject to it. This lets us go wherever we want.”

“My goodness… no wonder that walk felt so long!”

Dragoslava patted Blood-Wraith on the back. “Yeah, it threw me for a loop the first time I realized it too. Don’t put too much thought into it, or it will utterly boggle your mind… but hey! the best thing is that we’ll be home in time for lunch.”

Fortunately the two had finally arrived at the lake. It was just as it had been described: as big as an ocean with giant stones rising from the surface. An older rowboat was sitting there on the shore, so the two took it. It was likely the best option if they did not want to raise suspicion. Naturally Dragoslava had no intention of paddling the distance of half an ocean, so she cast a spell that summoned two spectral hands that began rowing at a quick, yet steady pace. They went past many stones forming islands, looking for one close enough to the center. Once they had found an island that was just right, they docked and exited the rowboat. Looking ahead, they could see a faint hint of a shoreline. The sky also appeared to be light blue over the center. Getting out her binoculars, Dragoslava could see what looked like buildings on a beach.

“Yup... it’s real alright: a civilization unaware of its surroundings… supposedly, given some odd things I’ve heard of recently”

“Do you think they’ve ever come out here and beyond?” Blood-Wraith asked.

“If the rumors are true, then yes. Although me thinks they didn’t get too far. That boat is clearly from their land given that very few have actually been to this lake. I’d imagine that they had no idea what they were doing.”

Blood-Wraith thought about the center for a second. “How do you think they got there in the first place?”

Dragoslava shrugged. “No idea. I’d have to either ask around or dig through their knowledge. All I can do is guess at the moment.” 

The two spent some time observing their surroundings and taking notes. It was a fascinating lake given the stones and how they interacted with the body of water. Dragoslava began collecting some of the smaller rocks so she could study them back at the tower. Meanwhile, Blood-Wraith was fixated on the shoreline. He wanted to meet those people out of sheer curiosity. After Dragoslava was done, she tapped her friend on the shoulder, gesturing towards the boat.

“And now we head back.” Dragoslava snapped her fingers, causing the spectral hands to return. “I’d say that was pretty fun.”

As they left, Blood-Wraith noticed something on the island they had departed from. “Uh, Dragoslava?”

“What’s up?”

“There’s people on the island now…”

“Hey there!” A young man’s voice called out.

Dragoslava quickly thrust her palm towards the island, causing the rowboat to speed off. “Shoot! We better skedaddle!”

As they jetted across the water, Blood-Wraith sighed. “Aw, I wanted to meet them…”

“Well I suppose if they venture out further, we could encounter them in the future. Look at it this way: we don’t know who they are, what they want, or what they are capable of. We’re explorers, not ambassadors. Plus I’m obligated to keep you safe… because obviously. And if it’s any consolation, opportunities to meet new people will pop up in the future” Dragoslava responded. 

“...but why not them?”

“Rumors and odd happenings.”

“Oh…” Something was telling Blood-Wraith that they had dodged a bigger issue. “Well gee, they’re awfully noteworthy for a bunch of rumors…”

“I did some research back when I scouted the location out, despite the lack of credible information: Those people seem to be quite capable and ambitious, if a bit chaotic.”

The rowboat continued to speed along until reaching the shoreline they had departed from. After pulling the boat to where they had found it and tidying it up a bit, the two began their trip home. This journey was insanely short. One minute they were at the lake, the next they were back at The Iron City, leaving Blood-Wraith incredibly confused. Dragoslava promptly explained that because of knowing where to go, they could drastically decrease the time of the journey. What felt like ages to Blood-Wraith was a mere ten to twenty minutes for Dragoslava. Adding insult to injury, Desislav stated the two had only been gone for an hour.

“I told you we would be back in time for lunch.” Dragoslava giggled a little, as she knew Blood-Wraith was skeptical the entire time.

Blood-Wraith groaned. “This is so confusing…”

Desislav nodded. “It definitely takes some time getting used to it, especially if you’re from somewhere like Earth, like me.”

“So I take it that lunch is just like dinner and breakfast?” Blood-Wraith asked as he stretched his arms.

“Yup! Come along, I have some sandwiches ready for you two” Desislav answered as he led the way.

Thankfully lunch did not require any lessons as Blood-Wraith was still a bit steamed. The sandwiches were quite good though, so that calmed his nerves. After lunch was some free time as Dragoslava had to prepare her summoning ritual. Unsure what to do, Blood-Wraith went back to the office to find that one Alchemy book… he still had no idea what it said. Thinking for a second, he planned to rectify this issue. He then zipped off to one of the many libraries in the tower. This led him to the North Spire library. Once he located the books he needed, he began blazing through them, reading whatever he could get his hands on. Eventually Dragoslava came looking for him.

“Oh there you are Blood! What’cha doin?”

“If the capability and ambition of other people is our concern, then I shall learn Alchemy and be ready for whatever gets in our way…”

Dragoslava noticed a simple, metal sculpture on a table loaded with books. “Hey, did you make this?”

“Yup. I’m trying to figure out how to make it more detailed.”

She gave Blood-Wraith a light applause. “Well done. That’s quite good, for a beginner. Huh, maybe we should give you an aptitude test…”

“Pardon?” Blood-Wraith paused his reading.

“A test to figure out what your magic abilities are. Personally, this tells me you’re a natural alchemist. Again, this is very good…”

“So I take it that the summoning is ready?”

Dragoslava nodded. “Yes indeedy. You still want to check out that planet?”

Blood-Wraith put down his book. “Sure, let’s go. I need a break either way.”

Back at the lift station, Dragoslava had placed a cloth with a well woven pentagram on it on the floor. Surrounding it were candles and burning incense. After speaking an evocation, black birds began gathering outside. Soon a figure calmly emerged from the shadows. He was an upright, semi-elderly man who was dressed in regal attire. This was the raven demon that Dragoslava had called upon. He was quite impressed with her skill, given that she was relatively new to Necromancy.

“Dragoslava, getting the hang of the rituals I see?”

“Yes indeed, Stolon… Although I am having trouble getting a hold of the materials required at the moment.”

“Don’t worry, lass. I was never that picky of a demon in the first place. Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Blood-Wraith. I sort of just found him out in the wilderness…”

Stolon shook Blood-Wraith’s hand, who was a little nervous. “A pleasure to meet you, lad. I am Stolon O’Corvidae.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. O’Corvidae,” Blood-Wraith replied.

Dragoslava naturally requested that Stolon fly them to the planet Blood-Wraith had discovered. Stolon took a moment to process that-a simple task, no two ways about it. Leading the two outside, he took the form of a giant raven. Flying up into the air, he swooped down and picked up Dragoslava and Blood-Wraith. They were then off to the planet, with a flock of black birds following close behind.

The planet in question was a beautiful, brilliant orange, which became more pronounced as they approached. What also became apparent as they got closer was that the planet was made of fire. Landing on the planet’s surface, they all learned that the fire was not actually hot. In fact, it behaved like the four classical elements. The only fire that was hot was actual fire. Looking around, the firescape was a truly gorgeous sight to behold. Seeing fire replace everything had to be seen to be believed.

After a bit of wandering, Dragoslava and Blood-Wraith discovered a village of fire people. Seeing the outsiders was a shock, but the villagers quickly welcomed them in. It was a standard town of farmers, hunters, and gatherers that was quite lively, being near a road and a large river. Thankfully these people knew that they were in The Unlight, so Dragoslava did not have to explain or hide any details. As she walked and talked with the townsfolk, Blood-Wraith was randomly pulled aside into a house.

“Hey! What was that all about?” Blood-Wraith exclaimed.

“The seer wishes to speak to you” a young villager replied while pointing to a room shrouded by a curtain.

Blood-Wraith slowly entered the room, pushing aside the curtain that served as a door. “Hello?”

“Greetings, Blood-Wraith. Come, sit.” The Seer was an androgynous entity who wore a blindfold and had a crystal hovering before them. Their voice was distinctly masculine, however. Interestingly a few ethereal feathers were scattered across the floor. What was odd was that they were not made of fire…

“Who are you?”

“I am nothing more than a humble seer. What matters in this discussion is you. Do you have any idea of what your future holds?”

“Not really. I don’t even know who I am” Blood-Wraith answered.

“Then things are as they should be. Child, your future will be a great and fantastic one. Do you plan to keep exploring with Dragoslava Raynot?”

“Yes?”

“Then begin looking for an ancient dragon, flying in the sky towards the mountains to the north of the Iron City. He will be of great help to you two. Not only that, you may also end up helping him too.”

“Okay then… Do you know who I am though?”

The Seer chuckled. “Absolutely, but that is for you to discover… and it will be very obvious once you do figure it out. Now go, Dragoslava is looking for you.”

“Oh, well, thank you. Have a good day.” It was quite an odd experience, to say the least. Blood-Wraith left the house and quickly ran into Dragoslava.

“There you are! I was searching all over for you… and trying some of the local foods.”

Blood-Wraith thought for a moment about what the Seer had said. “Can we go back to the tower? There’s something I want to look into.”

“Are you sure? We got as much time as we need…”

“Yes. I think it’s something important.”

Dragoslava shrugged. “Alright then. We can always come back at a later date. Besides, my field journal is pretty full.”

And with that, the two returned to Stolon and flew back to The Iron City. Before departing, Stolon left Dragoslava with a feather of his so he could easily be summoned again (plus he had taken a liking to Blood-Wraith). Desislav was thrilled to hear about the journey and was kicking himself for not going with them. Once settled down, Blood-Wraith returned to his library. He tried to go back to studying Alchemy, but what the seer had said was distracting him. 

Blood-Wraith was up late, looking through all sorts of encyclopedias he thought would help him. He had to know what a dragon was and what they typically looked like. Annoyingly there were many types of dragons, ranging from bipedal to quadrupedal to serpentine. When dinner time finally arrived, he was slumped over on his desk, mumbling about dragons. All that reading had left him exhausted, with Dragoslava having to peel him away from his books so she could bring him down to eat. Dinner was great, but it naturally made him sleepy. Once he was finished eating, Blood-Wraith drowsily attempted to head back to his studies. Desislav saw this, chuckled, and took him off to bed. Despite all the excitement, Blood-Wraith slept soundly. His intrigue over the enigmatic dragon would have to wait until the next day.

Next: Chapter 3

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)