#SIGH why must i have all of my good ideas after i already post my drawing :(

[smile-files]

the feeling when you care so much about a character that you worry about their gjinka's outfit not being narratively meaningful enough

[leilanihours]

# SHAMELESS

pairing: kate martin x lsu!reader

word count: 1299

warnings: smut (MDNI), head + fingering (reader receiving), ab riding, mentions of strap

summary: you're tired of pretending you're not attracted to kate and kate is just tired of your attitude.

⭑ from lani: need her so bad after seeing that push during tds game! anyways second post of the day i missed writing 😊

masterlist !

YOU HAD NO idea how you ended up here, pressed up against the wall of your team's locker room, with kate martin's knee between your thighs.

you hated this girl. but did you really? apparently not since you've been begging for her touch for the past ten minutes.

it's agonizing. every part of this. the way she had been one of your biggest rivals for so many years. the way she had such a strong influence over you. the way she was doing everything except what you wanted. the way you needed her so indescribably bad.

everywhere her large hands traveled, your skin burned with both a sense of self-betrayal and unbeatable addiction. you wanted this for so long, you just didn't realize it until now.

you thought that all the built up anger against her was a result of her being from the school that kept yours from winning a championship. while part of that was true, it turns out that most of the frustration toward the girl was sexual. you needed her. and you hated that you needed her.

"fuck, kate," you sigh as her lips paint the skin on your neck purple and red, "don't leave hickies."

"why?" she mumbles against you, not slowing down or stopping in any way, "scared your teammates are gonna find out you got fucked by an iowa girl?"

"i don't need their bullshit," you agree, "tired of having to deny that i want you."

"then don't deny it. tell them how bad you need me. tell them how i fucked you in their own locker room."

"you can't-"

"i'll do what i want with you, y/n. you started this, we’re not stopping until you finish it."

with that, kate lifts her head from your neck and drags you over to your own locker. she pushes you onto the bench in front of it and immediately sinks to her knees.

hungrily, she pulls your shorts and underwear down and is met with your soaking cunt.

"fuck, you're this wet already? you must really hate me," she jokes, but there's no sign of humor on her face.

you move to take off your purple jersey, the body heat becoming too much to bear, but you're immediately stopped by kate's hands grasping yours.

"leave that shit on," she protests, "want you to think of this every time you put it on."

you let out a moan at her words, her tone. sure, you've seen kate angry and determined on the court, but this was so much more different. so much more enticing, addictive.

before you know it, she's diving straight into your dripping pussy, experienced tongue working wonders on your puffy clit.

her rough hands grip your thighs, squeezing to elicit more reactions from you. she works one of her hands between your legs, teasing your hole.

"think you can take my fingers, mama?" she mutters against you.

"please," you beg, "need it so bad," any self-pride long gone thanks to the girl in front of you.

"if you insist," she shrugs, shoving two of her long fingers into your cunt at a set pace, forcing your graphic moans to echo throughout the deserted locker room.

"god, just like that," you groan as she brushes against your g-spot and circles her tongue around your clit.

"that's not my name," she practically growls, "with the way you run your mouth talking shit about me you should know my name by now."

when you only whine at her words, she stops her actions just as you get close to your climax. you tilt your head down to see her glaring at you expectantly, her face red from both anger and infatuation.

"well?"

"please, kate, need you so fucking bad."

"good girl."

she stands up from her spot on the floor and strips out of her jersey, leaving her in a black nike sports bra and white basketball shorts. you salivate at the sight of her defined abs, reaching out to run your fingers over them.

however, kate has different plans once she sees how your eyes lit up when she took off her shirt.

"get up," she demands.

you oblige hesitantly, not sure what she wants you to do. when you don't move fast enough, the blonde pulls you up by the hem of your jersey. you jolt forward but are caught by her toned arms.

you're about to question her actions but slowly begin to understand what she's trying to do when she takes your spot on the bench and grabs your waist so that you're straddling her.

"ride them," she says bluntly.

"what?"

"are you that fucking dumb? you like my abs, i know you do. so ride them like the slut you are."

"kate-"

you failed to notice that you already subconsciously started rubbing your bare pussy against the hem of kate's shorts to relieve yourself.

"shut up and do it or i'm leaving."

her searing grip on your hips forces you to grind down on her sculpted torso, the friction sending goosebumps across your skin.

you rest your hands at the nape of kate's neck, occasionally pulling at the slightly wavy blond strands that were previously knotted into her stupidly sexy braid.

"there you go," she sighs, her eyes trained on the desperate bucking of your hips and her hands practically clawing at the curve of your ass.

"mmm, feels so good, kate," you moan shamelessly.

"yeah? you like riding me like this?"

"fuck yes."

"just wait 'till i have you riding my strap one day," she says darkly, "fuck, makes me so wet just thinking about it."

you pick up your pace against her stomach at her insinuation of a future rendezvous, her filthy words igniting a fire inside you.

as your clit repeatedly brushes up against the ridges of her abs, you can tell your release is near. your breath quickens at the feeling, kate immediately picking up on your behavior.

"you close?"

"so close," you whine.

"give it to me, baby, come on," she coaxes, sliding a hand underneath your jersey and bra to toy with your nipple.

she moves her head to leave more marks on your neck and collarbone, truly not giving a shit about who sees them.

her eagerness clouds your mind, the knot in your stomach snapping as you come all over her stomach with a loud curse.

her insistent grip on your waist pushes you to your high as she keeps you rocking against her.

"so good for me," she whispers in your ear as she places a soft kiss below your jaw.

you could get whiplash from her change in demeanor, not understanding how she was able to switch from such a dominant tone to one of comfort.

your chest heaves as you look down at the blonde below you. when your eyes meet hers, you are once again entranced by her beauty. the gentle blue of her eyes makes you melt in her lap, also reminding you of how she has yet to get off.

"what about you?"

"don't worry about me," she assures with a smirk, "there's always next time."

"next time huh?" your heart flutters at the thought of getting to have kate like this again.

"how else am i gonna have you on my cock?" she whispers in your ear as she guides you off of her to put your clothes back on.

"jesus, kate," you groan at her teasing.

she simply chuckles as she throws her jersey back on.

"promise there's gonna be a next time?" you say with a raised eyebrow, fully aware of how desperate you sound but not caring one bit.

"baby, if i don't get to fuck you properly within the next month i might lose my mind. so yes, i promise."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[daydreams-after-dark]

Hi love >_<!! How are you???

Because it's almost my birthday. (just 15 days !) Could you maybe write something for my birthday? :> I am requesting it very early because I'm so busy with my own life, including my mental health, so I won't be online often ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜)  ( 1 am totally okay, tho!! So don't worry about me!) You can post it before or after my birthday. I don't really mind when!

Something about birthday sex mixed with slight angst if you don't mind?? (Pure smut is totally okay!) Make it filthy and add whatever you want, as I already said once; I'm open for everything!! (I'm a slut ngl..)

P.s. I'm into piss lately..shhh

- lots of love 🎪

pairing: male escort!lino x fem birthday girl reader (I hope it's okay that I have chosen Lino for this?)

Your friends pay for a sex worker for your birthday, but what happens when arrives and you already know each other?

A/n: Hey Happy Birthday 🎪 my love. I hope you are well and taking care of yourself 😘 Tending to real life and mental health is extremely important.

I hope that my little scenario is okay, I am struggling with writing lately. The ideas are there, but the execution is not as good as I want it to be.

warnings below the cut

CW: Piss Kink (f on m), breeding kink, unprotected p in v (pls be safe), restraints, paid sex, birthday sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering.

You’re not really sure why you decided to dial the number on the gift card your best friends gave you. Really? Why of all the presents they could have chosen, did they think it appropriate to gift you a male escort/gigalo? One who does home visits at that?

Yep! They knew you hadn’t had sex in almost a year, and they knew you really needed to get laid.

You’d never paid for sex before. Technically, you’re not paying for sex in this instance either, your friends have. But still. What are you thinking? Letting a stranger come in and do things to you.

The doorbell chimes and you let out a shaky breath. “Happy Birthday, Bitch!” You wink at yourself in the mirror and take one last look over your body. You’d shaved your legs, popped on a little thong, and slipped a short satin dress on. No bra. Fuck! You sigh. It’s basically a short satin camisole nightie. Will this be okay?

The doorbell chimes again and you hurry to open the door to your apartment.

“Lino?” You gasp in surprise when you see your brother’s best friend standing in your doorway and not the escort. You squint your eyes. It is him isn’t it? You haven’t seen him in five years. But it has to be him.

“Y/n? Noona?” He smiles and takes a good look at your face. “Um… I…ah…must have the wrong address.” He begins nervously. “Let me just check where I’m supposed to be.” He whips out his phone. “Unit 4, 70…”

“Yep. That’s this address.” You say awkwardly.

You stare at each other for a moment as realisation hits.

“You booked an escort?”

“You’re the escort?”

Lino laughs while you hide your face in your hands “Fuck! This is so embarrassing.” You wail.

“So you did hire an escort. Well then... Do you want me to come in? Leave? You’re the client. It’s your call.”

“My friends organized it. They think…” you trail off.

So many questions run through your mind. Why is Lino an escort? And dear god, what if he tells your brother about this? Is Lino actually going to fuck you? No! That’s probably very unlikely. But he is extremely attractive… and he is paid for… You bite your lip.

“So? What’s it going to be?”

“Hmm?” Your thought are broken.

“Shall I stay, or leave?” He repeats.

——

You couldn’t turn him away, that would have been rude right? So you brought him in, offered him a drink and snack and invited him to sit on the couch with you.

Now you’re half an hour into a conversation about what you had both been doing for the past few years. You learned that being a gigalo… sorry, escort, is Lino’s side hustle while he brings to life his big dream of opening a restaurant-slash-dance entertainment establishment.

“Like a strip club?” You raise an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes. “No, not a strip club. It’s going to be for all ages.”

He learned about you too. What you do for a living, your bad breakup a year ago, how it’s your birthday and your friends organized this as a gift.

He unzips his black backpack that you hadn’t even realized he had with him, and retrieves a tablet.

“Alright, let’s see what you have booked.” He opens an app and smirks as he skims over the details.

“Wait! What are you reading?” You try to catch a glimpse of the screen but he pulls it away.

“I don’t know what my friends told you…” you tug your hair wishing you were invisible.

"it says here: vanilla sex." He turns the tablet to show you.

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Those fucking bitches think I want vanilla sex?" You shriek. "Or was that the cheapest option?" you pout.

Lino laughs haughtily. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. Or orgasm giver. What is it I've read on Instagram - 'don't bite the hand that fingers you?'"

"Give it here." You snatch the device from him. "Am I suppose to sign something? Tick some boxes? Consent to some shit?" You scroll the screen.

"The next tab over." Lino leans over your shoulder. "Yep. Right there." He pokes his tongue out of his mouth slightly as his eyes catch some of the "inclusions" that can be selected.

In your desire to prove your friends wrong, and that you don’t want just vanilla sex, you hastily tick every single box on the form and sign the bottom. "There! Surprise me! It is my birthday afterall." you huffed.

Lino raises an eyebrow. Then suddenly he pulls you by an arm and a leg forcing you to straddle him. You yelp in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced with a sigh, and you really hope he didn’t notice.

His face is awfully close to yours and you can already feel yourself growing wet with anticipation. Are you really about to be fucked by your little brother’s best friend? The one that used to have sleepovers at your house. The one that used to wear cat print pyjamas?

“Do you even know what you signed up for?” He whispers eyeing you up and down and swallowing hard.

“I said surprise me.” You gulp.

His hands run up your thighs. “Is this thing expensive?” He asks gently tugging at the hem of your black satin dress.

You shake your head.

“Good.” He growls as he tears the garment from your body. Your hands fly up to cover your exposed breasts, but he tugs them away roughly. “I used to wonder what your tits looked like. Fuck! They’re perfect.” He sighs and takes a nipple into his mouth. You gasp and throw your head back. You grind against his crotch, and you notice he has hardened in his jeans.

“Wanna know a secret?” He says as he pops off your nipple and licks it. “I used to get hard when you’d walk around your house braless.” He bites down your nipple making you cry out. “Sometimes,” he begins to pepper kisses across your chest towards your other nipple. “You’d show me your nipples through your shirt. They’d get so hard, poking against the fabric. I’d have to go jack off. That’s how hot I thought you were.”

“Were?” You raise an eyebrow.

"Were. Are. Always will be." He locks eyes on you and you feel the tension in the air thicken.

"Are you really going to fuck me, Lino?" you whisper quietly.

"I'm going to make this a night you're never going to forget." He replies huskily.

"You didn't answer my question." You smirk, threading your fingers through his dark locks.

He holds onto your ass as he slips off the couch to lay you down onto your soft fluffy rug in the middle of your living room.

Leaning over you, propped up on one arm and cupping your cheek with the other, he leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss. The gentleness is unexpected, but it isn't long until he is kissing you more purposefully. His tongue glides over yours making you hum into his mouth. He moans at that, deepening the kiss even further, like he wants to possess you.

You hold on for dear life as he presses his strong thigh between your legs, nudging them open so he can press hard against your core. Your back bows off the floor and you whimper. Fuck, you must sound so desperate. But it has been so long since you had anyone, besides yourself, has touched you.

He presses his thigh against you again and chuckles when you respond with another moan. "Such pretty noises, Noona." He smiles against your cheek. "If I were to touch your pussy, I bet it would be soaking." He leans up and looks at you. "I'm dying to know."

He looks around the living room, seemingly making some kind of assessment, and then he's back into his backpack. You lean up on your arms to see him with a velvet-like rope in his hands. Your cunt clenches and an excitement swirls around your stomach.

"Lay back down." He instructs, and then he's tying your wrists together with the soft rope. He positions your arms above your head and secures the ropes to the leg of your chunky timber coffee table.

But that's not all. Lino is back with more ropes, this time tying one around each of your legs. He manages to position you in such a way that he can secure the other end of the ropes to the little wooden legs of your couch, forcing you to be spread open for him.

You feel so exposed and so utterly vulnerable, even with your tiny thong on. But even that doesn't stay on for long, as Lino cuts it off with scissors.

He sits back on his heels between your legs and takes you in. "That's better. You won't be able to squirm away. Now I can get a good look at your pussy." He bites his lip and runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. You shiver at his touch, not sure how you're going to last. You're on the verge of an orgasm as it is.

"So fucking wet, Noona." He states as he spreads your folds gently and runs his thumb through your arousal. He slides a finger into your tightness, then a second. "Tight too. It's been a while, hmm?" He teases.

"Unfortunately, yes." You cry.

"Let's take care of you then." He promises and without warning begins to finger fuck you hard, fast, and angled directly into your g-spot.

"No! Lino! Not yet...can't come yet!" You beg.

"Oh Kitten, you are gonna come when I say, and as many times as I say."

He's relentless with his fingers. You can't squirm away, forced to take what he is giving you. You're cunt is already producing the most lewd sounds you've ever heard. How can you possibly be this wet? How can Lino be so good at this? Your eyes roll back as you give in, accepting the pleasure. The tightness inside of you ready to burst. "Oh god... fuck..." you pant. Your chest feels flush and you know your face is turning a slight shade of pink as you edge closer to release.

"That's it... come all over my fingers." He coaxes.

You come hard, your back lifting off the floor, your thighs trembling, and tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

You collapse, panting. "Lino," you say as your try to catch your breath. "So good...so fucking good. How are you this good?" You sob.

"Shhh. It's okay. Here. Suck these." he lays beside you and pushes his glistening fingers into your mouth. You've never really had anyone shove their fingers into your mouth before, but it feels so erotic. You moan as you taste yourself on him, urging him to push his fingers deeper into your mouth. You make a pathetic sound when he goes to pull them away, so he lets you suck and lightly choke on them a little longer.

"If that's how you suck my fingers, my cock's not going to stand a chance." he says with a half smile. Your eyes snap open and you stare at him with pleading eyes.

"Oh you wanna suck it do you?" he pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

You nod. "Please! Let me..."

He sucks in a breath. "Well, I can't say no to the birthday girl. Or client. Especially when they selected everything under the sun on their terms of agreement. Including, golden showers."

"Wait! What?" You lift your head, horrified. Minho looks at you incredulously, as he strips his clothes off. You are stunned. Partially because you didn't even know that was on the list, and also because Lino naked is the most beautiful thing you have ever laid eyes on.

"It's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want." He says as pumps his delicious looking cock a few times. He seems to be hard as stone and leaking. He's leaking for you? Fuck.

You don't have time to even think more about the piss option, as Lino positions himself so you are in 69 position. You open your mouth wide, allowing him to sink his cock into your eager mouth, while at the same time he buries his face in your pussy. You moan around his thickness as he demonstrates just how skilled he is with his mouth.

He eats you out like a starved man. Lapping at you eagerly. You try to grind against his face, but he holds you firm so you can't move. He groans against you, making you whimper around his cock. It's a delicious cycle, each of your sounds and vibrations from your mouths, making the other respond in the same way. Lino starts to thrust into your mouth, his balls hitting you in the face each time. You want him to suffocate you, and you wish your hands were free so you could pull him in deeper.

All you can do is try to meet his thrusts by lifting your head as much as you can and hope he gets the message. He does get the message, and fucks your face as he slides several fingers into your cunt. He slurps on your clit and hits that sweet spot inside you, all while you're struggling for air.

It's too much and you come again. This time harder than before. He works you through it, slowing both his cock and fingers down to a slow pace. He eventually peels himself off you and sits beside you panting.

"Lino?" You whimper looking at his disheveled hair, and drenched chin. "Didn't you want to come down my throat?" you panted.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to?" he says shyly. He unties you from your restraints and you sit up and give him a devious look.

"What?" he looks back at you suspiciously.

"When you used to jack off because of me, what did you think about?"

"Oh, right. That?" he lays down on the rug beside you. "Well." he pauses to think. "I often imagined you riding me. Like... You couldn't contain your urges, so you'd find me in your brother's room and push me down and force me to breed you." He admits.

"In my brother's room?"

"Yah! He wouldn't be there in the fantasies." He growled. But you were already moving into position.

"So... you mean I'd climb over you like this?" You throw a leg over him hovering over his needy cock.

He nods and swallows hard.

"Then what? I sink down onto your thick, hard cock, because I need it so badly?'

"Y-yes. Wait!" His eyes flick open in horror. "Condom."

You lean down over him and kiss him on the mouth. You really don't know where this confidence is coming from. Maybe learning that Minho had it bad for you when he was younger makes you feel powerful.

"Oh, but Lino. How are you gonna breed me if we use a condom?" you whisper.

"Fuck!" He moans and pulls you down hard over his length until he is completely inside of you.

"What are you doing to me, Noona?" He whimpers as you start to roll your hips. He's so deep, and fills you so perfectly, and you can already feel your third orgasm building.

Lino's hands are all over you, caressing, squeezing, digging his fingers in. Eventually his hands find purchase on your hips, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise as he rocks you hard on his cock. Your clit grinds perfectly against his body. It's rough, fast, slippery from your slick. He slaps your ass a few times and growls when your flesh jiggles.

"I'm close." You squeak.

"Fuck! Me too. Me too. Piss on me." He pants.

"What?" You cry, but you don't slow down. You need to come so bad that nothing is going to slow you down.

"Do it." he cries. "Hurry!"

Fuck! Really? He really wants you to? Can you even do it? You aren't sure that you're body will even let you, even if you wanted to.

"Do it now, Noona. I'll give you all my cum if you do." He sounds so desperate underneath you, that you close your eyes and let go.

You feel a warmth pool on his pelvis between your legs. You dare yourself to open your eyes. You peek through your lashes to see Lino with the most aroused expression you have ever seen in your life. Then he starts fucking into you. Painfully hard. The breath knocked from your lungs with each thrust. You feel him grow even hard inside you as he is on the verge from exploding, and it sets r you orgasm.

You clamp down hard around him like a vice. He cries out, filling you to the brim with his cum, just like he promised he would.

Your orgasms are intense, long, satisfying.

You flop down on top of him, allowing your heart to calm and your breath to return to normal.

"Lino. I hope there was an inclusion where you clean up and replace damaged items in your terms of service. Cos this rug is well and truly fucked."

"I'll take care of it." He hums.

"Lino?"

"Hmm?" he wraps his arms around you.

"This was the best birthday present ever."

"You're very welcome." He smiles to himself, but you don't see it because your face is on his chest.

“Happy birthday, Noona.”

————

A/n: I feel like Lino breached several rules as an escort… unsafe sex, knowing the client, having had a crush on the client in the past… but this is how the story turned out… so…. 🥴

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @kyunchoni @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @ismokeeweed @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @teddy-stay @lunearta

[penkura]

I feel like I annoy you. I am so sorry if i do and feel free to ignore it.

After you wrote feverdream so beautifully I was so overwhelmed. (Ofc i do love all of your work)

Tbh Penguin with a dominant side lives free in my head. Especially if he maybe isnt too fond of reader during a miscommunication (or other scenarios). I am weak for an enemy to lover trope. Even so we know that our boy is mostly totally sweet and most likely to become friends with everyone in an instant.

So if you are interested in it or find inspiration I would love to see the result.

Otherwise if you prefer pure fluff. It would surely be funny for either Penguin or Law tonget hit by a truth fruit kinda power. So they have to be completely honest for a short period of time and i can totally see them going to hide so they cant spell their true feelings towards you.

Either way have a fantastic day and i sure hope work will treat you good and you can take a break soon ❤️

Since you've been doing the Truth Truth Fruit posts, I'll do the first prompt! 👀 I got an idea that I hope is to your liking, and everyone else's of course!

More Penguin prompts please I love him sm

Penguin doesn’t get you at all.

He’s tried, every day since you joined, to be nice and accommodating, he tries to include you in group card games, attempts to help you with whatever chores you’re assigned, and stays up to sit with you on night watches. The problem, though, is you, how you don’t even talk to him when he tries to speak to you or anything really. If he calls for you, you stare at him with your eyes slightly wide, which confuses him greatly. If he has something for you or Law needs you, all you do is nod in response and leave, not even thanking him.

What the hell is your problem, what could he have done to make you act so coldly towards him? He just wants to be your friend, even when Shachi tries to suggest it’s more than that is what Penguin wants, but he just rolls his eyes at his lifelong friend. There are zero ulterior motives, he’s just trying to be nice and a good crewmate, that’s all it is.

If only you would talk to him, let him prove he’s not a bad person, but he’s just so frustrated at this point that he’s given up, Penguin has started to ignore you just the same as you’ve done to him. He only speaks to you now if Law needs something from you, he doesn’t even ask you to join in cards night or to go with him and Shachi into towns anymore. If you do hang out with everyone on game nights, you’re more inclined to sit off to the side with Law and watch everyone, mostly talking to your captain.

Penguin has mostly given up, you won’t talk to him or anything. You must dislike him, that’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it? Yeah, that’s it. You don’t like him. He can’t make you like him, so he won’t try anymore, he won’t bother. He stops talking to you entirely, even if someone else needs you. He just gets Shachi or Ikkaku to talk to you.

It does annoy your crewmates, to see the two of you at odds and not wanting to talk to each other for…what was the reason again? Shachi isn’t sure, but he’s tired of it just like the rest of them.

It's why he brings up the idea of leading you and Penguin into one of the supply closets, separately, before locking you both in and setting someone as guard to prevent anyone from letting you out until you’ve talked about things. He’s lucky that your crewmates are willing to help, Clione easily leads you in and the makes an excuse that he needs to ask Law something. In reality he went to get Penguin with the same excuse of needing to look for something, pushing the older man into the closet and causing him to nearly knock you over, before the door is pulled closed and locked from the outside. Penguin really tried to open it, for several minutes, before he sighed and gave up. You’d already decided to sit in a corner and let him be, even while he kicks an empty bucket out of frustration.

“Stupid, all of them.” Penguin sighs and sits across from you the best he can, though it’s still close enough that your shoes are touching.

You don’t say anything, you’re confused why you and Penguin have been locked in the supply closet. You know he doesn’t like you, you’ve known from the start, believing he’s always pretending to be nice when he invites you for games and the like. You were used to that, from men and women, but you’d come to trust Ikkaku and Clione more than anyone. Shachi was working his way into your circle, but you felt like Penguin was just messing with you all the time, even when your crewmates swore he wasn’t like that and he really did want to be your friend. It’s hard for you to believe that, even harder to accept it despite your growing feelings for Penguin.

Part of you wonders what you did to develop a crush on someone who doesn’t even talk to you anymore.

“…any idea why they locked us in here?”

Penguin shrugs, ignoring the fact this is the first time he’s heard your voice in the last few months you’ve been with them.

“Probably trying to make us talk or something. Bet Shachi came up with it.” Another sigh whole he takes off his hat for a moment to brush his hair back, barely taking note of how your eyes widen a little and you look more nervous, “Just cause we’re on the same crew doesn’t me have to like each other…”

“Oh,” your shoulders drop a bit but you nod, you figured he didn’t like you after all, “Yeah…I guess so…”

Odd, he didn’t think you’d sound so disappointed. If you two are locked in here though, he might as well try some small talk. There’s nothing else to do unless you want to make a supplies list.

“Can I ask you something?” Penguin has to think of how to word it when you nod, even as you keep your eyes off him, “Why don’t you talk to me?”

It takes you a few minutes to come up with a response, Penguin thinks you’re not to answer so he doesn’t hold his breath for one. It stands to reason, you don’t talk to him normally anyway.

“My last crew, well, just a couple of them, they’d invite me to do stuff then go without me or tell me it was a joke,” you sigh a little while Penguin watches you, seeming to understand a little more, “I guess I just let that get to me when you started being so friendly, I was expecting the same things. I should—”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I wanted to be friends with you.”

“Shachi told me that but I didn’t believe him…I’m sorry, I should’ve trusted that you weren’t like them.”

“…I probably should’ve taken things slow, sorry.”

You both stay quiet for a bit after that, not sure what else to say or talk about. It feels so awkward, you hate this kind of forced small talk. Penguin eventually stands up, holding his hand out to help you up, and not letting go after you’re on your feet, giving you a slight smile.

“Let’s start over, yeah? We’ll pretend the last few months didn’t happen, and work out a friendship together.”

“I think I’d like that, Penguin.”

You two will move past this, you’ll become real friends and spend more time together, especially after Shachi lets you out of the closet and Penguin chases him down for it, threatening to lock his friend in their next. The next time Penguin invites you to play cards with everyone, you join and end up beating him during a far too long game of poker. He’s shocked but the grin on your face makes his heart feel weird, and he can’t help the smile that comes across his own face.

Man…maybe Shachi was right and there is more here…

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-four

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: I wanted this to be a slow burn/enemies to lovers but god damn it's so hard to write because I already want Reader and Noah to get together.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo

With a loud sigh, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and walked towards to front end of the bus. On this bus, I shared it with Davis, Matt, and Bryan, and sometimes one guy from the band would pop in every once in a while: except Noah. At least if he did, it was when I was asleep or not around. Especially lately, Noah and I avoided each other. After the disaster of a dinner a couple nights ago, I refused to speak to him even about work. I went to everyone else instead of him if I had a question, which I didn't often since I knew what I was doing.

I didn't want to think about Noah right now. Not when my mind should only think about my mom.

Lana told me that even though my mom was having a lot of good days, she still refused to speak to me. I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't break but I couldn't cry about it. I needed to focus for work and not give anyone a reason to figure out something was wrong.

We were close to the next city, less than an hour away, and we would hang out in Dallas for two days before heading out once more. Matt mentioned he had a surprise for everyone so called for a bus meeting which is where I found everyone with two surprise visitors.

Folio and Noah.

Giving a small smile to the former, I sat next to him at the table and he returned a smile. Noah was sitting on the long couch of the bus, chatting quietly with Bryan. They must have joined when we stopped last and I was asleep.

Noah's eyes burned hot at the side of my face but I ignored him as I bumped shoulders with Folio. We had been texting a bit the last couple days and have gotten pretty close; no romantic feelings involved. Folio had been a great friend and someone to vent too. I never told him about my mom, though. That was something I would take to the grave.

"Where's Jolly and Nick?" I asked.

"They stayed on our bus. They wanted the peace to sleep."

I nodded before pointing to Matt, who was standing at the front of the bus rubbing his hands together. "Any idea what this is about?"

"No fucking idea," Folio chuckled.

With my phone buzzing in my hand, I dared a peak at the notification to see another subscriber to my Only Fan's page. I didn't have many followers but enough to keep some money coming in. I could pay Lana her first paycheck and the extra income coming in was nice. I wasn't rolling in money but wasn't struggling on how to pay for things. With being constantly surrounded by the guys, I wasn't able to post much, just one other video and a few provocative pictures. I never showed my face, only from the neck down and never naked. I always had some short of clothes or underwear or an arm covering the private areas. Maybe that was the reason I had little subscribers, but it was the rules I set for myself when I started this.

"So, I bet you're all wondering why I called this meeting," Matt spoke while clapping his hands.

Folio muttered a joke to me under his breath which earned a loud laugh from me. Everyone looked our way, and I leaned back into the booth cheeks on fire.

"What's so funny?" Matt quirked a brow.

Noah's eyes pinned me to my spot as I glanced over to him. Something flashed behind those brown iris' while his jaw ticked.

"Nothing, Mr. Dierkes. Please continue with class," Folio joked with a smirk.

I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't laugh again.

"As I was saying," Matt began ignoring Folio. "It's been a week on tour and we've all been working tirelessly to make sure every show fucking rules. But there has been some tension within the group."

"I don't think you feel the same tension as some of us do," Noah said with his eyes on me.

Our eyes matched with intensity, and I let out a deep breath wondering what he meant by that.

Tension? Of course, there was tension between us but that's because we disliked each other.

Folio noticed I was ready to speak, so he pinched the bare skin of my shoulder which caused me to yelp out in slight pain.

"What the fuck was that for?" I seethed.

He nodded towards Matt to continue on, who looked displeased at being interrupted by our antics yet again.

In our days of texting, I told Folio about how it irritates me how Noah acts around me when we're alone versus when others are around. I also may have told him about my tiny feelings for Noah, which Folio told me it was pretty clear how I felt. While I thought no one noticed, Folio saw the stolen glances, the way my body reacted differently when Noah was around, or the way the corner of my lips curled up when Noah spoke or sang.

Always so perceptive.

I tried to get out of him why Noah was so upset about that night in Chicago but Folio refused. He said that was Noah's secret to share.

I tasted blood with how hard I bit my tongue and reluctantly gave Matt my attention.

"Since we'll be in Dallas for a few days, I rented an Airbnb for us to stay at as a way for us to bond or whatever the fuck. There's a pool and grill we can have a pool day on our off day," Matt said with a smile.

My heart sunk deep into the pits of my stomach. At least when we stayed in hotels, I had my room, sometimes doors down from Noah. But now, all of us staying in a house means it would be harder to avoid him.

"Is that necessary?" I questioned.

"Yes," Matt deadpanned. "If you want a hotel, book it on your personal card."

Low blow.

"Whatever," I grumbled while crossing my arms.

He simply gave me a large smirk before speaking again. "The only issue is that there aren't enough beds so some people will have to bunk together or sleep on the couch."

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered while running a hand down my face.

I didn't care the house situation, I would sleep on the floor if I had too if that meant I wouldn't share a bed with anyone, especially Noah. I liked these guys but not that much.

Folio patted my shoulder and whispered low in my ear.

"Maybe you and Noah should bunk together. Team bonding or whatever."

"Fuck off, Folio," I playfully smacked his chest before rising to my feet, his arm falling away from me. Noah was still staring at me and I knew with how close Folio and I had been, he wasn't happy. His jaw clenched so tight, and his hands balled into fists in his lap.

I didn't bother giving him another glance as I turned my back to him to retreat into my bunk to mentally prepare for this team bonding bullshit Matt set up.

Okay, I had to admit. This house was fucking sick.

There were large floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto a beautiful backyard and if you looked past that, you could see the city down below the hill the house was on. It was a large open floor plan with a living room, kitchen, and bar with a pool table off of the dinning room. Upstairs was an open loft area with a large sectional couch and four bedrooms.

While I was in my bunk on the bus, the room situation had been decided by drawing matching straws. No one bothered to ask for me to draw because somehow by the Gods below, Noah was the last to pick and was only left with the color red.

Jolly and Nick.

Bryan and Davis.

Matt and Folio.

Noah and I.

When Folio told me the sleeping arrangements, I wanted to cry in anger. It seemed as if no matter how hard I tried to avoid Noah, something yanked us back together. Folio offered to swap with me but I declined, already deciding that I would sleep on whatever couch was provided.

A warm presence encased around me, making the hairs on my arm prick, and I peered up to my left seeing Noah standing next to me in the house's entryway.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," he said.

I blinked, somewhat surprised that he offered that. I fully expected him to lock me out of the room.

"I'm smaller than you. It might be better for you to sleep on the bed," I offered.

Was I being nice?

My body shivered at the thought.

Noah shook his head then hoisted his back over his shoulder. "Take the room, angel. You're the only girl here. You should have some privacy."

Was he being nice now in front of the others? They all stood less than a few feet from us.

Did I wake up in the twilight zone?

When I went to protest yet again, he shot me a look that caused my lips to pull tight together. We stood in silence for a few moments and I let out a soft breath.

"Thank you."

Noah made a noise in his throat and his eyes glittered as they darted between mine. His large hand brushed away hair from my face and I leaned into his touch, all the pent up anger between us melting away.

The question weighed heavy on my tongue as I pursed my lips a few times.

"Why do you call me angel?" I finally croaked out.

His hand was now wrapped around the back of my neck, the pads of his finger pressing deep into the skin, and shrugged.

"It feels right."

I raised a brow. "What if I don't like it?"

"Too bad. It stays, angel," he dragged out the last word with a large grin.

Irritation flared inside of me but before I could say anything, the warmth around my neck was gone as Noah walked away. I blinked after him, watching as he tossed his bag onto the couch before stepping outside into the large backyard.

"Soundcheck is in one hour!" Matt called out, his voice carrying through the open space.

With that, I forced my feet to take me upstairs to the bedrooms so I could get ready. The only room left was the closet one to the stairs and directly across the long sectional couch. If Noah would sleep here tonight, he'd be able to look right into my room and see me laying in bed. The thought made something ignite in my stomach but I ignored it.

This was the only room with a bathroom attached which made me wonder if the guys purposely gave me this room. As I placed my things throughout the room since we were going to be here for a few days, my phone rang loudly from its spot on the bed as I was in the bathroom and rushed to answer it in time.

"Hello?" I asked breathless

"Hi dear. How're things?"

I smiled into the phone at Lana. "Good. I'm going to be heading to the venue soon to set up. Everything alright?"

"Well," Lana started.

My ass fell into the bed with a groan and prepared myself for what was about to come.

"What happened?"

"Your neighbors found your mother in their bathroom this morning; in their shower."

I pinched my eyes shut with a groan. "Please tell me it was the Johnson's. They know what's going on with her so they would understand. Well, as much as I hoped they would."

"Yes, thankfully. I was able to bring her back home without incidents."

"Good," I let out a long breath. "How is she now?"

"She's fine, in her room resting but-."

"I don't like the sound of that but," I noted.

"Y/N, I know you love your mother and want the upmost best care possible for her."

I nodded. "But."

"But I think your mother would be better in a home where someone can watch and monitor her twenty-four hours of the day. I can only do so much especially when she takes off."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to cry. This conversation was one I knew I was bound to have at some point. My mothers Alzheimers was getting progressively worse and soon, I feared there might be a time where I couldn't handle it.

But now wasn't that time.

"I'll think about it," I said after a few beats.

It wasn't a lie, per se. I would think about it, way down the road.

"I'll see if she wants to talk," Lana said.

"No, it's alright. I don't want to bother her."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips.

"Alright dear. I'll call you tomorrow."

After we said our goodbyes, I let my phone clatter to the floor at my feet then plopped down onto the bed. Tears pricked at my eyes and I dug my palms into them, hoping it would force the tears away. My mom was the most important person in my life. We were all each other had after my father died, so being so far away from her when she needed me the most made the guilt rip me apart.

Was this job worth it? Was the money worth it?

These questions kept replaying in my mine over and over as I laid on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A few tears escaped drying to my warm cheeks. The money was worth it; it had to be. I still wasn't making a lot of money from Only Fans so whatever I made doing this, I needed.

There was a soft knock on my open door and my breath hitched when I noticed Noah leaning against it. How long had he'd been there? Did he hear my conversation with Lana?

I sat up in bed while covertly drying my eyes.

"The manager at the venue said the set up for merch has to be in the hallway downstairs. Is that alright?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I've been put in weirder places so it's fine."

Noah gave a curt nod while crossing his arms over his chest. I suddenly felt small under his eyes and rose to my feet hoping that watching me gather my things to get ready it would be a silent dismissal. But no, he continued to watch every single movement I made.

"Is there anything else you need, Noah?" I asked with a sigh, finally looking at him.

His black shirt clung to the thick muscles of his arms and chest. His brown hair had fallen into his face in a tousled mess from being on the tour bus the majority of the day.

Noah was breathtaking in every single way, and my core practically begged for some kind of friction.

Not now, traitor.

"Have I mentioned how much I love hearing my name coming from your pretty little mouth?," he mused while licking his own.

My legs squeezed together, my body screaming with that small release against my core, but I refused to let him know how bad he was affecting me.

"Is that it?" I asked.

Noah said nothing as he walked over to my open suitcase and riffled through it, obviously looking for something.

"What are you doing?"

My heart raced as I watched him, knowing that if he picked up that red t-shirt, he would find the variety of sex toys I use for my videos. What he found, though, was something I hadn't expected him to. An old shirt of his that I borrowed from the last tour. It was the second night and Bad Omens played a sold-out show. The crowd was alive the entire night and every one of us was buzzing with excitement. Once we returned to the hotel that night, we all jumped into the outdoor pool even though it was pretty chilly that night. Noah offered his dry shirt to me so I could warm up which at the time I took gratefully.

That night was before the night in Chicago. Before Noah's attitude toward me changed.

It got buried along with my other things after the last tour and forgotten about.

Bullshit.

I may have worn it to bed some nights; so much so that his scent had faded while ago.

Noah tossed the shirt over to me and I caught it just before it hit me in my face. My lips stuttered trying to come up with an excuse because I still had it.

"Wear that."

"Excuse me? I asked irritation lacing my words. "Since when do I take orders from you on what I wear?"

He closed the distance between us in two large steps, his fingers tilting my chin up towards his face. Our lips were so close, I could almost taste the beer he must have had before coming into my room. And the hint of bourbon and spice from his cologne filled my senses.

So warm and familiar.

"There's a reason you kept it, angel. Might as well wear it."

Noah's voice was dark and heavy, laced with something I could pinpoint. His eyes were just as dark as his words and I swallowed hard. My body flared with desire, heat pooling between my legs, and I let out a breathless whine eventually nodding.

"Good girl," he breathed across my lips.

His eyes darted from mine down to my lips where it stayed for a long moment before he dropped his hand from my face then left me standing in the room with a heavy wetness and an ache between my legs.

[yellowocaballero]

“I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

As promised in last post. Kakashi & Obito roleswap. Barely. It's complicated. Please pay no attention to how many roleswaps I have written. Just ignore it. Do me a favor and do not think about it. OK? Thank you.

Snippet from a much longer, much messier document. This part was the very first part writiten and very much a proof of concept. I'm trying to figure out if I should overhaul the thing and turn this into an actual story, so let me know.

Short beginning scene of Tobito's Wild Ride under the cut.

“Tobi. Thank you for coming.”

Obviously, Tobi didn’t bow or kneel. That wasn’t the sort of person Tobi was. He just grinned broadly, waving so broadly that his body swayed with the motion. “Gramps! Hello! Wow, you’ve gotten old since I’ve seen you!”

Sarutobi chuckled, raising a pipe to his mouth. The pipe - either ‘I’m thinking hard’, ‘I want to pretend I’m thinking hard and giving due consideration to your idea when I don’t really care’, or ‘I’ve already decided and I’m pretending that you have a say in this’. What was the point of the last one? This was a literal military dictatorship. Tobi forgot how exhausting this man could be. 

“It has been a while,” Sarutobi said indulgently. “Since…the T&I incident, I believe?”

Tobi giggled, high and childish. “Inoichi-san got sooo mad. But Tobi said he was real, real, real sorry, so I hope he’s not still mad…oh, no.” Tobi gasped, face falling in desolation. “Is Inoichi-san still mad at me? Oh, Tobi can go apologize again -”

“It’s water under the bridge.” Tobi exhaled gustily, wiping the back of his hand against his brow. It wasn’t his fault Inoichi hated him. Apparently his mind was absolutely impenetrable. Something about constant children’s lullabies just playing full blast in his head. Or songs regarding a specific time of day someplace in the world. “I have to apologize, Tobi. I always feel as if I should keep a better eye on you. There’s never enough time in the day for all of the people we care about. Please forgive me for my inattention to you.”

Manipulative old fuck. Tobi panicked, embarrassed by the attention and affection. He waved his hands quickly, almost jumping up and down. “Gramps! It’s okay! Tobi’s not lonely or sad! He still has Sasuke-chan! Sasuke-chan wasn’t brutally murdered, so Tobi’s A-OK!” Tobi had to tell himself that a lot. Every morning after a nightmare, which meant every morning period. “And I met a really nice old lady yesterday and helped her down the street. She gave me an apple sweet. It was delicious! So there’s nothing to forgive, Gramps!”

“I’m glad,” Sarutobi said warmly. Ugh. Tobi knew objectively that Minato-sensei had tried to imitate that tone, but he still liked to convince himself that Sarutobi was mimicking Minato-sensei. That was a good one, he’d have to use it. “Sasuke-kun is actually why I called you here today.” 

That kid. Tobi sighed. “Tobi is sorry that Tobi cannot control Sasuke-chan. I’ve told him that punching Naruto-kun is bad, but he just doesn’t listen…”

“I’m sure you’ll find a method somehow.” Sarutobi pushed a thin file folder across the desk, and Tobi curiously stepped forward and picked it up. He’d know a file like that anywhere. It was a mission assignment folder. “I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

How did Tobi feel about this? Tobi sure as hell knew how Obito felt - desperately wondering if a T&I visit was in his future. Tobi was scared of the missions, sure. But he was a five year old. How would a five year old react to these things? 

Well. Tobi knew how he would have reacted. He would have sighed and rolled his eyes about yet another mission. Pretty impressive when you were burned out of your career at five years old. He blamed the two month graduation for years before he learned of Rin and Kakashi’s hell and eventually concluded that it could have been worse. At least Tobi was paid for his war zone. 

“A mission?” Tobi gushed. He clenched on the folder far too tightly, like a child clutching a wheezing frog. “I’m going on missions again?” He jumped a little, his usual little show of excitement. Kept his energy up. “Does that mean Gramps isn’t mad at me anymore?”

Tobi carefully snuck a glance up from the folder, checking Sarutobi’s expression. Sarutobi’s face was impassive stone, as usual, but he looked a little worn too. “We were never angry with you.”

Tobi fully looked up, tilting his head and frowning. “Nuh-uh. Tobi remembers. Everybody was so mad at Tobi. Just because his hand slipped…it wasn’t Tobi’s fault.”

“We know,” Sarutobi said gently. “Minato didn’t retire you because he was angry with you. He was only looking out for you.”

Well, Tobi didn’t want to be out of fucking retirement. It was objectively insane to put him on any mission. Tobi had gotten sabotaging every attempt to make him a useful member of society down to a fucking art. He had a shitton of inheritance to blow and a nice long civilian life to blow it on. Maybe he was too stubborn about it - Iruka was definitely convinced that he was the second laziest person in the village and sabotaged his assigned jobs on purpose, which Tobi would have resented if it wasn’t absolutely true - but spite was important. Spite woke him up in the morning. 

The only thing that helped him tolerate this stupid village was his hate for it. Ain’t that just the way.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

“Trust me. You’re hardly our first choice.” Finally, they agreed on something. “But you’re the only one in this village with a Sharingan, Tobi. You’re the only one who can teach Sasuke how to use his power.”

“Nuh-uh. Um. This is a mistake. Ha ha.” Tobi ripped the paper from the folder, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder. “Because, um, I can’t use my Sharingan. Did Gramps maybe forget that? Ha ha?”

“But you still remember how to use it. Even if you can’t use it yourself, you can still walk Sasuke-kun through using his.” Sarutobi eyed Tobi knowingly, the dim glowing embers of his pipe reflecting a soft light in his eyes. “You were once a genius with the Sharingan, Tobi. They said you were the best since Madara.”

Yeah! Yeah, they did say that, old man! That was the whole fucking problem!

Mention of the Sharingan or Tobi’s old talents always upset him, so this was a great springboard into nipping this in the bud. He’d throw a hissy fit if he had to. Tobi had killer hissy fits. That was how Sasuke was given a seat as head of house in the Clan Council. Tobi’s wail could pierce eardrums and Sasuke had deserved that fucking seat. 

“Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan anymore!” Tobi exclaimed. “Tobi wants to help Sasuke-chan, Gramps, cross Tobi’s heart! But Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan and the Sharingan don’t like Tobi. And that’s just the truth.” Tobi crossed his arms, sniffling and scrunching his nose. “And don’t say what you’re gonna say. Tobi knows what’s up. Minato-sensei’s little boy is on that team too, isn’t he?”

He absolutely was. Tobi had speed-read the entire document while he was reading it out loud. But even the remnant of Obito’s genius was still considerable, and Tobi’s moments of keen insight were useful for pushing the enemy into a corner. 

“I thought you might appreciate the chance to look after your sensei’s son,” Sarutobi said mildly, removing a silver lighter from his pocket. Engraved, a gift from Biwako. Was that on purpose? A mind game on Tobi, an unconscious memory on his part, or a purposeful evocation of a memory just for him? Was he trying to remind Tobi of something or corner Obito? Damn this man. “Help him like your sensei helped you.”

The really great thing about Tobi was that he could get away with saying this. It was only to the left of cathartic, but at least it was in the zone. “I’m not stupid, Gramps!” Tobi yelled. The ANBU in the corners twitched, but when Sarutobi’s fingernail clicked on the silver lighter they subsided. “You’re giving Minato-sensei and Kushina-neechan’s little baby and his fox to the last Sharingan because you want the Sharingan to eat the Fox! Why are you doing what you want when you know it won’t work? Tobi’s tried, he can’t - he can’t, Gramps.”

It wasn’t the sort of thing any self-respecting Uchiha would admit. Half of them would kill themselves if they lost their Sharingan. Uchiha Obito, whose Sharingan was the pride and joy of the clan - who was the Uchiha’s Uchiha before Itachi-kun was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye - would never abandon his one point of value. 

And everybody knew how prideful the Uchiha were. There was no Uchiha alive who would pretend to be Tobi. Could you imagine? What Uchiha would humiliate themselves like this with a goofy smile on their face? A regular human being could barely do it. An Uchiha? Forget it. Impossible.

But Kushina-neechan’s favorite shinobi was always the most surprising of all. And Obito cared about that more than all the rest. 

The only ninja who would have ferreted him out was Kakashi. Kakashi and his dopey, stupid smile. His ridiculous porn books and his clumsy pratfalls. His laziness, lateness, and utter underachiever lifestyle. Only Kakashi ever said those words, with a wink and a smile: a true shinobi looked underneath the underneath. So save your energy and watch the clouds with me, Uchiha-kun. No? Maybe next time…

The next time never came. Being a good Uchiha had always meant something, and the useless son of a disgraced clan meant nothing at all. Nothing to anybody but Minato and Kushina and Rin and Obito.

“You’re better than nothing.” In that second, Sarutobi really did look very tired. He didn’t look like he was lying at all. “You’re the best we have, Tobi.”

Tobi was silent. Sarutobi knew it wasn’t much of a compliment. Even somebody like Tobi would know that. 

“As a favor to Sasuke-kun and Naruto-kun,” Sarutobi said, “and as a favor to me. Please give these children the help you can. Don’t worry - I’ll ask the other jounin to pitch in and help.” 

Tobi lowered his voice, and he allowed his tone to grow a little more serious. “I’m not strong. I’m not good at molding chakra and I haven’t really fought anyone in a long time. I can’t protect the children.” 

“We’ll be careful,” Sarutobi allowed. But there was something in his eye… “You may be rusty, but I doubt you’re out of the ring yet. Have a little faith in yourself.” The look in his eyes glinted and grew, and for the first time he stared right at Tobi. “You did hold your own against Uchiha Itachi.”

They stared at each other for a long second, two. A little too late, Tobi laughed and scrubbed the back of his neck. “Silly Gramps! I said a billion times. Tobi hid. I don’t think Itachi-kun thought it was worth it to kill me…I don’t think Itachi-kun ever thought I was a real Uchiha. But we’ve showed him, huh?” Tobi grinned, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Now there’s three whole Uchiha in the whole wide world! One third’s a serial killer, one third’s twelve, and one third is…drumroll please…Tobi! Konoha’s in good hands, ne?”

Tobi smiled at the man who ordered Uchiha Itachi to kill their entire family.

Sarutobi smiled back at the man who was currently pulling the most intricate and improbable lying campaign in a village of ninjas. In Obito’s defense, it was to save his own life. Sarutobi had murdered his family to - well, save the village, but Tobi didn’t have to like it. 

“Thank you for accepting the mission. I trust you’ll do splendidly.”

“Uh. Tobi didn’t -”

“The children ought to be waiting for you in the schoolroom at 1000 hours. You ought to head over - I expect you’re already late.”

Tobi squealed, looking at the unwound watch on his wrist and slapping his head. “Oh no! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late! Bye, Gramps! You promise-promise to get back-up for Tobi, right?”

Pleasantly, Sarutobi said, “I would not trust you alone with those children, no.”

“Yay! Okay, gotta goooo!”

When he left Sarutobi’s office, he was about ten minutes late to his meeting with the children. By the time he arrived at the school he was over an hour late. Lost on the road of life and all that. It didn’t matter - venting about this ridiculousness to Kakashi was way more important than meeting the brats on time.

This would be a disaster. There was no way this would end well. Tobi was a brain damaged, traumatized moron who couldn’t use his one skill and who hadn’t been on active duty since he whoopsie-daisy’d his sword into his best friend’s heart. If Sarutobi didn’t keep up his promise and drag in the other jounin to take up his slack then he’d riot. Did he want Tobi to do work? Tobi? He had resigned from capitalism and the military industrial complex. Pulling him into this shit again - as if he hadn’t suffered enough -

As if Sasuke and Naruto hadn’t. Maybe one of Sarutobi’s stupid-ass motivations was because he knew that only Tobi would be nice to Sasuke and Naruto. Damn Naruto especially. For that, at least…if only as a favor to Minato-sensei…

To make up for it…maybe a little bit of real work would be the least he could do.

Ugh. Hopefully not that much.

Tobi finally touched down at the school, following the Academy hallways to Sasuke’s classroom by route memory. He dropped off Sasuke’s lunch a lot. It embarrassed him so much. It was classic.

Tobi walked into the classroom and allowed a large basket of glitter to fall on top of his head.

A peal of laughter squealed throughout the room, and Tobi opened his eyes to see Uzumaki Naruto clutching his sides and laughing his ass off. Quite rudely, Sasuke had his feet propped up on a desk. That third girl was sitting primly in her seat, terrified. 

“What an idiot! Our new sensei actually fell for - wait.” Naruto straightened, squinting at Tobi. He yelled, jabbing a finger at him. “Hey! Number Two Ramen Fan! What the hell are you doing here?”

Sasuke almost fell out of his seat. He scrambled to his feet, panicked in his special Sasuke way - that was, eyes a little wider than usual. “Tobi? Did I forget my lunch?”

“Um?” Sakura Haruno hunched her shoulders in her seat, picking at the corner of a scroll. “Uchiha Obito’s our sensei. I thought you knew. Did you…not know?”

“Is this a joke?” Sasuke cried. “Who the hell thought this was funny? Tobi couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag! If they’re bullying us again, I swear to god I’ll strangle whoever -”

“Whoah,” Naruto cried, impressed. “Violent!”

“Everybody’s always bullying Tobi,” Sasuke snapped. “I’m an Uchiha. What sort of Uchiha would I be if I tolerated that?”

Glitter dripped down Tobi’s hair and sprinkled onto his clothing. He smiled, big and bright, and clapped his hands together. Sasuke was groaning, but Naruto and Sakura just leaned in closer - caught in a morbid curiosity, desperate to meet their own fate. Signed and sealed. “Tobi’s first impression of you all is…you’re so funny! Tobi likes you!”

The kids paled. 

[transvampireboyfriend]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

When they get to the lake an hour later, Eddie is the first to come spilling out of Steve's car.

He walks several paces away from it, tuning out the post-drive chatter of his friends, his arms stretching above his head as he walks closer to the lake, stopping a few feet away from its shore.

Eddie inhales deeply, enjoying the fresh air and admiring the sunrays twinkling on the water. He can feel them on his bare arms too.

So.

Maybe the world won't end because he said a bit too much about how good he thinks Steve Harrington is.

Steve came out to them last year, on a sunny afternoon when they'd all been lazing around, reading magazines on Steve's living room after spending all day in his pool. Nancy and Eddie were arguing about how hot some actor was.

Eddie can't remember who it was now, but what he does remember is Steve casually saying "I can settle this argument, lemme see", and crawling on all fours to where Eddie and Nancy were laying practically on top of each other.

They must have worn the same perplexed expression when Steve declared "He's hot", because he then took a look at both of them and shrugged, said "I like both. I like whoever" and that had been that.

So Eddie knows Steve would not make a big deal over him basically saying he finds Steve attractive, but he's still worried, because their sexualities don't automatically mean Steve will like him like that and Eddie would never assume that, but now Steve might think he did.

He looked uncomfortable in the car and it's the only explanation Eddie can come up with.

And Steve's never been particularly receptive of Eddie's gestures, Eddie tried flirting a few weeks after Steve came out and Steve froze, whenever Eddie pays him a compliment Steve gets a little weird like he did in the car, Eddie's tried asking him to do stuff together like go on a hike, or Eddie teaching Steve to play guitar or he's even asked him to dance but Steve almost always backs down when the activity involves touching Eddie.

And it's fine. Eddie can understand, he's not everyone's type, it's cool. He just wishes he could shake the attraction off, but so far he's had no luck. If anything he only feels more attracted to Steve with every day they spend together.

And Eddie doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So Eddie needs to be careful not to let it show too much, because then Steve would feel forced to verbally reject him and Eddie just knows that Steve would hate that, not to mention he would be devastated himself.

Steve can't know.

After all Eddie said in the car, he'd been thinking maybe it had been a terrible idea to come along on a week long trip to a remote cabin with Steve. He'd already shown too much of his hand by gushing about him to everyone who would listen, Eddie spent the whole trip kicking himself over it.

But, as a dragonfly circles him, Eddie thinks of his friends, and he decides he can be an adult about this. He'll clear things up and apologize if Steve's still uncomfortable and they'll have a normal week.

This is meant to be fun and he always does have fun with his friends, Steve included. He always has fun with Steve especially, and he won't let his dumb feelings ruin that.

Eddie listens to quick steps coming up behind him and then a small but firm hand slaps his back.

"Are you alright?" asks Nancy, coming to stand next to him.

Eddie scoffs, doesn't turn to look at her.

" 'Course I am," he supplies "why wouldn't I be?"

Nancy gives him a withering look.

She was the first to find out about his crush, already knowing Eddie so well within a couple of weeks of their friendship.

Eddie fondly rolls his eyes, finally looking at her.

"I'm fine." he assures her "It's fine."

He offers her a smile and turns back to the lake.

Nancy gives him a once over before she wraps her arm around his waist.

Eddie sighs into the touch, her warmth comforting even in the mid day heat.

"Don't lose my fucking scrunchie" she threatens.

Eddie chuckles "I promise I won't" he lies, probably.

"Stop making promises you can't keep." Nancy shoots, untangling from Eddie's side "We should get you your own."

"Maybe I could make some!" Eddie suggests, "To replace the ones I've lost,"

"How did we switch from you buying them to this?" Nancy asks, her mouth tilting into an amused smirk.

"Oh come on, this way is more fun!" Eddie protests, almost stomping his foot in his excitement.

"You don't know how to sew" Nancy reminds him.

"Do too!" he protests, thinking of his many customized jackets and jeans. Though, he'd never made something so delicate as Nancy's pretty hair accessories.

"And Buckley said she'd teach me!" Eddie concedes.

That startles a laugh out of Nancy, "Yeah, I'd like to see how that goes" she says.

"Oh, I bet you would" Eddie shoots back winking at her. He gets shoved for it.

"Shut up." Nancy demands, giggling.

As their laughter dies down and Eddie straightens up, Nancy turns to the lake.

"It's so pretty here" she comments, looking out at the forest tree line beyond the water.

"Sure is" Eddie agrees, watching birds fly by.

After a while Nancy slips her hand in his and interlaces their fingers.

"C'mon," she says "we're the designated lunch ladies"

"Oh?" Eddie asks, following as she tugs him along.

"Yup! Steve and Jonathan are unpacking and Rob and Argyle called dish duty"

"Thank god for that," Eddie quips

Nancy laughs "That's exactly what I thought"

part 3

[viesantewrites]

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

(𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader

note: Hey guys, I‘ve rewritten this story a bit and decided to post it on my sideblog. I've changed some of the themes and also that the main character is no longer an OC named Victoria, but the reader. I think this story is kinda difficult to write, which is why I've rewritten it several times. I love plots like Shutter Island and tried to do something similar here & it‘s also a story about parasocial relationships and unrequited love.

summary: The reader is hopelessly in love with her boss Robert Fischer, but he doesn't seem to be interested in her. By an unexpected coincidence, they meet in the city and his sudden intense affection for her confuses her. The reader begins to suspect that something is wrong, and when she finally uncovers the truth about her encounters with Fischer the heartbreaking reality is revealed to her.

you don‘t have to watch the movie to understand the story.

age gap, but the characters are both adults. Robert is 37-39, is divorced and has a child. The reader is about 28/29.

word count: 5000+

warnings: topics like mental illness, depression, this is a quite dark and heavy story

It was just half past seven when she heard the familiar footsteps in the corridor approaching the office next door. A key was inserted into the lock and a moment later the door opened.

Glancing around to make sure her workspace wasn't too messy, she threw an old paper cup into the bin before her boss poked his head through the door.

"Good morning, Miss YN, so busy already?" he asked with a tired smile. "It doesn't reflect well on me as a boss to have my assistant here before me. I'm sorry, Monday mornings are always a bit stressful for me."

"No problem, Mr Fischer. I've already sorted the mail for you, it's on your desk," she said kindly, watching him as he took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack, a little damp from the rain.

"Thank you, I can count on you."

He was a very elegant, handsome man, about ten years her senior, with dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones and an elegant black suit. She must have stared at him a little too long, because he turned to her with a questioning smile.

Immediately her cheeks flushed and she turned back to her computer screen, but by then Mr Fischer had already approached her and placed some documents on her desk. "Please scan them all and email them to Mr Parker, he's been waiting for them for days," he said to her. "It would be best if we sat down together later and quickly discuss my tasks for today, there is a lot to do. If I'm not mistaken, I have a client meeting at three today."

"At two, sir," she corrected him, handing him a planner with today's date thickly underlined.

He started to grin. "You see, this is exactly why I have an assistant."

Fischer disappeared into his office.

She sighed slightly and went to work scanning the documents. She had been working for Fischer Morrow, one of the world's largest energy companies, for barely a month. Their headquarters had moved from Sydney to London after the death of their CEO, Maurice Fischer. Her current boss, Robert Fischer, was a direct descendant.

She liked Fischer Jr a lot. He was friendly, supportive and didn't get angry when things didn't go to plan. But in some ways he always seemed so unapproachable. For example, he never talked about his private life and YN had no idea who he was outside of work. Then again, he was her boss and his private life was none of her business. But deep down she admitted that she was very interested in him.

The days flew by and she finally felt as if she had been employed by Fischer Morrow for an eternity. But who Robert Fischer really was remained a mystery.

One evening, as she was about to leave, she quietly opened the door to Fischer's office. He was sitting in front of his computer, his chin resting on his hands. "Have a nice evening, Mr Fischer." He jumped slightly, obviously not having heard her come in, but then he smiled. "Thank you, you too."

YN looked at her watch. "It's almost half past seven, don't you want to finish your work soon? Don't you have a wife waiting for you?"

Mr Fischer shrugged. "I've been divorced for a few years now, and I only see my daughter at weekends. The only thing waiting for me is an empty, dark apartment."

YN held her breath. It was the first time he had told her anything about his private life. But in the same second, he seemed to regret his words.

"No one waits for me either," she said. "Except for my cat."

Fischer raised an eyebrow with a smile. "At least that's something."

Finally she said goodbye and left the office. But all the way home, she kept thinking about her conversation with Fischer.

Was he perhaps as lonely as she was?

Tired, YN lay in bed. She didn't even have the strength to change her clothes and remove her make up. Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of that itchy, uncomfortable dress and tights. A soft meow sounded beside her and she felt something soft brush against her arm. Smiling, she pulled the cat closer and buried her face in its white fur.

Since leaving her small home village for London, she had no one to talk to. Her old friends had all left her and moved on with their own lives. Robert Fischer was the only one she spoke to regularly, though it was far from a friendship. With the cat in her arms, she turned to the other side. But what if she had feelings for him?

Maybe she should tell him. But wasn't that too much? He was still her boss, after all, and there were probably plenty of women who were interested in him.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and closed her eyes.

Robert Fischer turned curiously when he heard the quick clicking of heels in the corridor. Panting, his assistant opened the door and dropped her bag on the desk.

"Miss YN, are you okay?"

Her hair was messy, her coat hung loosely over her shoulders as if she hadn't had time to put it on properly, and her lipstick was a little smudged.

"I… overslept," she said, panting. "I'm sorry."

Fischer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's okay. But it shouldn't happen again."

"Of course not, sir," she replied immediately.

He quickly disappeared into his office and returned with a thick stack of papers and a folder.

"Would you be so kind as to sort these documents alphabetically for me? They've been on my desk for days and I haven't had a chance to get to them. I know it's not an exciting task."

She nodded and took the heavy pile from his hand. Fischer thanked her and hurried back to his office.

Sighing, she set to work. But with each page, she found her concentration fading and her mind wandering. Her head ached, her eyes burned and she felt incredibly tired. But she tried not to show it, kept working as hard as she could and finally put the sorted file back on Mr Fischer's desk.

Exhausted, she walked back to her office, sat down in her chair and buried her face in her hands. She was shivering and her ears were ringing. Was it because she had forgotten to take her medicine today?

"Miss YN?" she heard her boss' voice.

She turned immediately and forced a smile. "Yes, Mr Fischer?"

"I have an job interview scheduled for ten, would you be so kind as to prepare the conference room for it?"

"Of course, sir."

He stopped halfway and looked at Victoria questioningly. "Are you okay? You look so pale." She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine, Mr Fischer." Fischer looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then handed her the key to the meeting room and disappeared back into his office.

A strange feeling of dizziness spread through her head as she walked down the long corridor leading to the conference rooms.

What was wrong with her today?

When it started to get dark outside, YN finally turned off her computer and reached for her bag. The strange dizziness had improved during the day, leading her to conclude that she simply needed a break from work. Fortunately, it was Friday. She knocked gently on Fischer's door, as she always did before leaving, to wish him a pleasant evening. He was sitting there as usual, his chin resting on his hand, deep in thought. He glanced up briefly and nodded politely, noticing her in the doorway. He looked stunningly handsome today, even after this long and exhausting day.

"I didn't ask you how the job interviews went this morning," she asked curiously. Fischer shook his head. "Terribly," he said. "None of these people I'd want in my company." His voice was cold and dismissive, and for a moment she thought he was referring to her, even though she knew he meant someone else. She smiled awkwardly and shrugged slightly. "Well, maybe the next one will be better."

Fischer remained silent.

"Have a good weekend, Mr Fischer."

"You too, Miss YN." He gave her a friendly smile.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend? I know a good restaurant, would you like to join me?" The moment she realised what she had just said, she bit her lip, her face turning red. Had she completely lost her mind? She desperately hoped he hadn't heard what she'd asked, but it was too late. She could see Fischer raise his eyebrows in confusion and stare at her.

"No, Miss YN. I'm not interested. I keep my work and personal life strictly separate." She immediately looked down, embarrassed. Thoughts raced through her mind like a rollercoaster and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "I'm sorry, Mr Fischer, I shouldn't have asked you that." She finally grabbed her bag and left the office without another word, feeling Fischer's gaze on her back.

It was drizzling lightly as she walked through the busy streets of London. The cold air did her good and she felt her head clear a little.

Why had she done this? It had been clear from the start that a man like him would reject her. But the words had come out of her mouth as if she had completely lost control. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. She didn't want to have a mental breakdown in public, even though it felt like Fischer had torn her heart into a thousand pieces. Suddenly the strange dizziness returned and her vision blurred slightly. The sounds of London became muffled, as if she were incredibly far away.

"Miss YN, wait!" she suddenly heard a voice behind her that seemed to be getting closer.

She turned around. The dizziness had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Startled, her eyes widened as she saw the person in front of her - it was Mr Fischer. What was he doing here? Had he followed her? She tried to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse stutter.

"I wanted to apologize, Miss YN. It wasn't very nice of me to brush you off like that," he said with a gentle laugh. His voice sounded strangely different, softer than usual. Wordless and spellbound, she stared into the pair of light blue eyes before her, apologetic and gentle in their expression. She knew Mr Fischer had blue eyes, but she'd never noticed how incredibly bright they looked.

"It's okay, don't worry," she managed to say, her knees shaking with excitement.

"No, no, Miss YN. I'll think about the dinner offer, okay? Just because we work together doesn't mean we can't have dinner together, does it?" Fischer suggested, and she nodded slowly, then smiled.

Why this sudden change of heart?

"Well, see you soon." He waved goodbye and YN, still completely confused, raised her hand in response. But before she could form another thought, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Carefully, YN pressed the shutter on her old camera, focusing the lens on the small lake in front of her. Satisfied, she lowered it. She was confident that this snapshot would turn out well. This park was a place she often visited to clear her head and pursue her passion, photography, as it offered many beautiful subjects. Especially now, in autumn, when the trees were covered with colourful leaves and the silence was slowly descending, with only the occasional pedestrian passing by.

Her dizziness had eased a little, but not completely. Fortunately, it was Saturday and she had the whole day to herself. YN sat down on a bench under a tree that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought. Eventually she got up and made her way to the West End. The streets of London were noisy and busy as she walked, looking for a warm place in a café and something to eat. Crowds of people rushed past her, music played from somewhere and loud voices filled the air. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples. Maybe she should have stayed home and rested.

Suddenly she held her breath as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. Fischer. But before she could think, he had already noticed her and started to smile at her.

"Miss YN, how nice to see you! What a coincidence!"

It was the first time she had seen him in his casual clothes rather than one of his business suits. But this was no less elegant and stylish. He was wearing a well-fitting black coat, a grey knitted jumper underneath and black trousers. It was so strange to see him outside his office at Fischer Morrow Company. Suddenly he didn't seem so unapproachable and distant anymore.

"What are you doing here?" she asked curiously.

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"I brought my little girl to her friend's house for a sleepover. She's been asking me for weeks because her mum won't let her."

"So you're a cool dad," YN replied.

Fischer rolled his eyes. "I'm the one who lets her get away with everything. We had to turn back twice because she realised she had forgotten her favourite stuffed animal and her toothbrush."

She laughed softly. In a strange way, she enjoyed him talking so openly about his life.

"Oh wow, that looks amazing. It's quite old, isn't it?" Mr Fischer pointed to the camera around her neck. "From the 1960s. But it takes incredibly good pictures for that time," she explained. Fischer seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you have more like it?"

"I have quite a few. From the 50s to the 80s, actually, and of course some modern digital cameras. Photography has been my passion since I was a child," she explained. Fischer looked at her with an interested smile. "So there's actually film in there that needs to be developed?" she nodded in confirmation. "Some photo shops still offer that service, yes."

Mr Fischer seemed genuinely interested in her hobby, asking her questions about it as they walked side by side through the streets of London. She felt incredibly comfortable in his presence and hoped he wouldn't leave so soon. Finally he pointed to the camera again. "Would you take a picture of me, please? I'd like a 60's style photo of myself." YN's heart began to beat faster in her chest. What had he just said?

"Of course, Mr Fischer," she replied nervously. "Robert. My name is Robert," he replied. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, completely surprised. No one at Fischer Morrow Ltd called him by his first name, and outside the company she had only heard his uncle, Peter Browning, call him Robert.

"Let's find a nice spot for the photo," he said, letting his gaze wander until it settled on a beautiful fountain.

Carefully, she picked up the camera, took a few steps back and held it directly in front of Robert's face. "Smile, please," she instructed him, finally pressing the shutter.

A pedestrian who had just passed them looked at YN with a confused expression and shook his head. Frowning, she looked after him before carefully tucking the camera into her handbag.

Are you hungry?" asked Robert. "We could go to a restaurant."

Surprised, she looked at him. "I don't know…" she said hesitantly, biting her lower lip. In fact, she had never expected to be asked such a question.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Finally, she worked up the courage to say what was on her mind.

"It's just… To be honest, you told me yesterday that you were someone who kept your work and personal life strictly separate. Maybe it would be better if we did. After all, I'm your employee."

As much as she wanted to spend time with him, she was afraid of developing even more feelings for him. Robert nodded slowly and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

"I really like you. I just never wanted to show it, that's why I was so reserved with you and told you I wasn't interested in you".

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh as a ton of thoughts went through her head. Robert finally nodded at her with a slightly disappointed look on his face and turned on his heel.

"Wait!" she called after him.

He stopped immediately and looked at her hopefully.

"Let's give it a try, shall we?"

"YN… is that a French name?"

Robert's voice sounded slightly tipsy as he grinned curiously at her, twirling his wine glass casually in his hands.

He had taken her to a rather fancy and expensive place, the walls were dark wood panelling, the chairs were covered in red velvet and soft jazz music was playing on one of the radios. Robert looked hauntingly beautiful that night. His skin seemed incredibly soft and flawless, his jawline even more prominent, and his blue eyes shone almost ghostly in the dim light, almost like he wasn’t real…

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass. "My father is French. I grew up in France but moved to England when I was 15."

He nodded with interest, rubbing his chin with his finger.

"And you? I heard you're Australian," she asked curiously.

Robert laughed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, my accent makes it obvious."

YN blushed and looked down at her plate. What a stupid question.

But Robert didn't seem to mind too much, because he started talking about his life in Sydney, how he had finally moved to London after his father's death, and she listened with interest.

But suddenly he stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "But I'm probably just boring you."

YN immediately shook her head. "No, you're not," she told him. "I find it really interesting to find out all this about you."

At that moment a waitress came to their table with a smile and asked YN in a friendly tone if she had enjoyed her meal. But the waitress paid no attention to Robert, YN noticed with surprise. Perhaps she was just being extra polite to the lady.

Robert pulled out a black leather purse and rummaged through it. Quickly, YN pulled a few notes out of her habdbag and handed them to the waitress. "Keep the change," she said.

The waitress looked at her with wide eyes, "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully, "have a nice evening.

Then she turned and left the table.

"You didn't have to do that," Robert said. "As a gentleman, it's actually my job to pay."

She shook her head in amusement. "I bet that's never happened to you before, has it?"

Robert shook his head and took the last drink from his glass. There was a moment of silence between them.

"All right. So what's the plan for the rest of the evening?"

She looked at him in surprise. As soon as he said the words, she felt a tingle in her stomach.

The church clock struck twelve as she crossed the street hand in hand with Robert. It was freezing, and she had pulled her scarf so far up her face that only her eyes and nose were visible. Her date looked at her with amusement. "Are you going to rob a bank?" he asked, laughing out loud.

"Shh!" she snapped at him, putting her fingers to his lips. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

Although it was quite dark and she could only make out Robert, she knew that his typical mischievous grin was back on his face. She pulled him firmly behind her until they reached the small white building.

"Is this where you live?" Robert asked.

She put her finger to his lips for a second time until Robert stopped talking and looked silently into her eyes. Her heart was beating in her chest as she finally stood on her toes, put her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his. Robert returned the kiss without hesitation and gently pulled her into his arms. YN could hardly believe what was happening. It was everything she had secretly wanted for months. They remained like this for a moment before she finally let go of him and reached for her key.

She felt for Robert's upper arm and finally pulled him into her apartment, closing the door behind him. She immediately wrapped her arms around him and began to kiss him again. His lips were a little cold and tasted of wine. Together they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, taking off his coat, which she tossed carelessly to the floor.

Robert's fingers stroked carefully along her hip and fumbled a little with her belt while she was busy putting little kisses on his neck. With slightly trembling hands she pulled his jumper over his head and Robert took her hand.

"Are you nervous?" he wanted to know. She remained silent.

"Don't be," he whispered softly into her ear, taking her in his arms again and pulling her onto the bed. Breathing softly, she clung to his chest, leaned back and finally closed her eyes as she felt his warm skin against hers.

The sun shone through the half-open curtains, creating a narrow, bright streak across the floor. Blinking, she opened her eyes and stretched. But immediately a sharp pain shot through her head again and she held her forehead tiredly. Confused, she sat up and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.

But when she heard soft breathing next to her, she turned quickly and all the events of last night came back to her. Smiling, she looked over at Robert, snuggled up next to her in her beige blanket, sleeping peacefully. Tenderly stroking his messy hair, she lay down beside him again and then began to caress his bare chest. Perhaps what they had done was wrong. After all, they were two people who should never have fallen in love. But it had happened, and it felt so right. They remained in this position for some time, Robert asleep and YN lost in thought.

Her eyes swept through the bedroom until they settled on a small white box on her dresser. Quickly sitting up, she reached for it and put a small pill into her mouth. Eventually, Robert began to move a little beside her, opening his eyes tiredly. Smiling broadly, she gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," Robert murmured in a raspy morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yes, wonderfully." He yawned loudly and took her into his arms as she laid her head lovingly on his shoulder.

"Wait, what time is it?" he suddenly wanted to know.

"Quarter past ten, why do you ask?" she replied.

"Shit," Robert muttered as he let go of the hug, jumped out of the bed and started to pick up his clothes, which were strewn all over the floor.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

"I should've picked up my daughter by now," he replied, hurrying to get dressed.

Sighing, she pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. "Can't it wait? Can't you stay for breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's already waiting for me.“ Robert dodged her questions, grabbing his coat on the floor and sighing when he saw her disappointed look.

He walked slowly towards her, stroking her chin with his finger, and finally whispered: "We can catch up later." Then he put a soft kiss on her lips before turning around and disappearing through the door. She sank back into the pillows and pulled the blanket over her head.

The rest of Sunday flew by. Mostly because her mind was on Robert and she could hardly wait to see him again tomorrow at work. She had probably never looked forward to a Monday in her life as much as she did that day.

The next morning, YN carefully applied her lipstick and looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She noticed that the collar of her white blouse was a little crooked and quickly adjusted it. She wanted to look her best for Robert today, so he wouldn't change his mind and lose interest in her.

Humming softly, she put on her black high heels and grabbed her handbag. She quickly put another pill into her mouth and put the box in her bag. Her headache was completely gone and her head finally felt clear and light again. In a good mood, she breathed in the fresh morning air and made her way to work.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked down the familiar corridor of Fischer Morrow. The lights were on in Robert's office. She ran a final hand through her hair, smoothed her blouse and opened the door to her own office.

The air was stuffy and hot. Coughing, she ran to the window and opened it.

"Good morning, Miss YN, I hope you had a nice weekend," a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see Robert's face as he stuck his head through the door, as he always did.

Why didn't he call her by her first name? Confused, she stared at him, trying to form a clear sentence. "But… But… we spent it together…" her voice finally broke. Her head suddenly hurt again.

He seemed so different again. Not the Robert she had spent the weekend with, not the one who had apologised for being too rude to her, not the one who had made her laugh and told her about his life. He seemed more like the one she had worked with for months, the one who never revealed anything about himself.

"Miss YN? I haven't seen you since Friday, when you left my office after… asking me that question."

Her heart almost stopped. Suddenly her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?" Concerned, he bent down to her. "Do you want to go home and rest?"

She nodded slightly and wiped a tear from her eye, which had turned her fingers black from the carefully applied mascara. Then she got up and left the office.

At home, she lay motionless on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't think straight and her throat felt incredibly dry. The door to her room, which was only ajar, opened gently and something small and white slipped through. Sniffling, she stretched out her arms and lifted her cat onto the bed.

Everything that had happened that weekend had been fake. She had made it all up. And all of this happened because she had forgotten to take the pills she was taking for her delusions. Robert hadn't really followed her on Friday evening; it was all a figment of her imagination. While his real self was still sitting in the office, probably not thinking about her at all. Everything suddenly made sense: why Robert looked a bit different, why his voice sounded different, the waitress who ignored him on Saturday because she couldn’t actually see him, the pedestrian who gave her a confused look because she was talking to herself while taking the photo.

The photo.

She immediately got up, put on her shoes and walked to the photo shop where she had left the film to be developed. Her heart raced as the staff handed her the envelope with the photos. Trembling, she finally grabbed the Saturday night photo, without looking at it herself, and held it up to the staff's face. "What do you see?" she asked.

The young man looked at her in confusion, but remained polite. "The fountain at Piccadilly Circus. Great picture, it turned out really nice."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied, and it felt like a slap in her face. Fischer had never been there with her. Only her lonely and sad mind had led her to believe that he was interested in her and loved her. Tears welled in her eyes and she left the shop without another word. When she got home, she immediately took the white box of pills from her handbag, rushed into the kitchen, opened the box and poured the pills into the bin.

Crying and with burning eyes, she finally lay down on her bed and buried her head in the pillow as her cat purred softly beside her. She must have stayed like that for hours, as the sun began to set again outside her window. When she finally lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face, she saw a dark-haired man sitting beside her bed, looking at her lovingly with his pale blue eyes. A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she began to laugh, pulling the man into a tight embrace.

some explanations because i know that story is kinda mind-fucking:

• Is Robert Fischer all a creation of the readers mind?

- No he actually exists, he’s her boss and she‘s in love with him, so she imagines dating him.

• When is he real, when is he fake?

- - The Robert Fischer in the office is real, he turns her down when she asks him out, leaving YN heartbroken. The moment she leaves the office, she starts to imagine what it would be like if he apologised to her, so the man who follows her is just her imagination. The real Robert Fischer is still in his office at Fischer-Morrow.

When she visits the city on Saturday and meets "Robert" and goes on a date with him, it's also just her imagination. That's why other people react to her with confusion, because she's basically talking to herself all the time. On Sunday morning, when she wakes up next to him, he's still fake. When she takes her pills, he quickly "disappears" (he says he has to pick up his daughter...) because they stop her delusions.

On Monday morning, when she gets back to her office, the real Robert Fischer is there again, who hadn't seen her since he had rejected her on Friday evening.

When she gets home, she throws away her pills and her delusions begin again. The man who sat next to her on the bed and comforted her is again the imaginary version of Robert.

[fandoms-in-law]

Arranged Husband

Summary/My Idea prompt for today: "Hey Robin? Apparently I'm marrying Hagan next week. Get Nance and Jon. Eddie's already on his way"

Steve is an only child so far as he knows, heir to his parents wealth, kept in Hawkins for safety. Then they tell him they've arranged a marriange to a man in town and all that paperwork they keep in Hawkins Will Tell Steve Why. and he will use it for his advantage as well as Robin's

Author's Note: I'm pretty sure this idea came from a tumblr post I saw months back about arranged marriages not making sense with how they're used in fic and ways to make them reasonable. If anyone can find that post please tell me/ tag me on it so I can link it here.

/\/\

“Hey Robin?” Steve said as soon as she got to the phone, “Apparently I’m marrying Hagan next week. Get Nance and Jon. Eddie’s already on his way.” He hung up before she could ask more, knowing that he’d be talking until well after Eddie arrived if he didn’t and he really preferred to discuss this fully with everyone in person.

The parcel had been delivered about an hour earlier and he’d been struggling to comprehend it the entire time. He’d read the letter attached and grown confused enough that the parcel was still sitting unopened and Steve dreaded to open it and see what his parents thought needed sending along with the letter.

/\

“Woah, what’s in the box, Stevie?” Eddie called, looking at the parcel curious, hands clearly itching to open it. “You getting me extravagant gifts without asking me out?”

Steve laughed, an empty sound given how worried he was about opening that after the revelations of the latter. “Not quite and I don’t know or really want to know. We’ll open it when the others get here though.”

“Others? I wasn’t the only one to get a call demanding I come over?” Eddie asked, lifting the box up to shake it as if that would reveal the contents. “Sounds like clothing of some sort.”

He groaned, “With the letter that got me to call you that is not a good thing.”

/\

“So why are we here? Robin said something about you getting married.” Nancy asked once Steve had got drinks and snacks for them all.

He met their eyes, sighing heavily, “I need help to go through my parents paperwork, because I got this letter and that package this morning.”

A glance holding the letter up was met with a nod so Nancy began reading:

‘Dear Steven,

As you are aware, a Harrington must meet the expectations of society. Given you have failed to find an appropriate match at this point in your life we have arranged one for you.

Next week on Saturday you shall be married to your friend Thomas Hagan. All arrangements have been made already so you need not concern yourself with any attempt to plan.

We shall visit after your honeymoon to explain what is expected of you in the future.

Sincerely your Parents, Diana and Richard Harrington’

“Are you the sole heir to the Harrington’s? Why are they making you marry a man?” Nancy asked once she’d finished reading.

Steve shrugged, “That’s why I need help. I want to turn their office and anywhere else paperwork might have been hidden in this house inside out until we’ve got all the details and can get out of this arrangement.”

/\

“Easy solution, I’ll marry you.” Eddie said an hour into their discussion of the arranged marriage.

Steve shook his head, “I’m not marrying you out of convenience, and we’re not even dating.”

“Yeah, if anyone gets that option, it should be me. Free me from my controlling family, Steven.” Robin laughed, leaning into him as if she’d faint.

“It’s unlikely a lover could be half as important as you are, so sure.” Steve agreed, stunning her and getting laughs from everyone else. “Will have to be a courthouse wedding though, there’s no time to arrange your fantasies, especially the one with the horse and carriage.”

/\

They’d both said it through the morning, mentioned dating or marriage in half serious contexts. It was repeating in Steve’s mind that they could actually make something together.

“I’ve found the honeymoon tickets. Looks like the names need confirming as we board the flight and the hotel room is a king bed.” Steve called. He’d remembered the shelf his parents usually told him to check for birthday presents had been filled on their last visit and had moved to investigating that while Nancy and Jonathan went through family documentation like birth certificates, as well as newspaper articles that had been saved.

Robin groaned. “I’m not sharing a honeymoon suite with you. Take Eddie to shock the hotel staff expecting to swoon over newly weds.”

“Oh, we going to have a romantic dream away, Stevie?” Eddie cooed, coming to look over his shoulder at the pages.

“Are you going to ask me out at some point or just make allusions to a romance we could be having?” Steve countered, leaning back into him.

Eddie blinked at him for a moment before his grin melted into something softer. “Of course, Stevie, Light of my life, Hero of Hawkins, Destroyer of Demobats, would you do the honour of dating this humble bard?”

“I will, and you do have a passport, right? This is in Greece.” Steve held up the flights again.

“Oh, Wayne insisted I get one just in case I need to flee town completely.” Eddie brightened to explain it, “And now I get a honeymoon without the wedding. How will I cope with an unfaithful boyfriend?”

Steve and Robin laughed, poking his sides, “That’s not what’s happening and you know it.”

/\

“I’ve found your brother.” Nancy called from Steve’s parents room. “Richard Harrington II, born two years before you and sent to boarding school almost as soon as he could be. No articles about him beyond that.”

Steve hurried through to her, taking the articles, “But why wasn’t I informed of this, or anyone in Hawkins aware of it?”

“The announcements were for Chicago. Your birth announcement is also but followed soon after by this in the Hawkins Post.” She pointed out, handing over the article titled ‘Harrington’s return to Hawkins’. It described the families return for a safe place to raise Steve, calling him the heir he’d thought he was.

“So they meant for nobody here to realise Richard II was their heir. They are jerks.” He stated.

/\

“Hey Steve? Thought we should catch up now you’ve finally been told about our marriage next week.” Tommy called through the house, letting himself in and getting the five already there to rush to the stairs landing.

“That’s not going to happen.” Nancy called back.

Eddie leant over the banister, “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend, not yours.”

“And going to be my husband.” Robin added, elbowing Eddie.

Steve laughed at the pair, actually heading down the stairs, “I don’t want to marry an asshole like you, so that’s not going ahead.”

“Contracts have been signed. It’s happening, Harrington. You can’t refuse it.” Tommy sneered, but faltered at the sharp gazes directed at him now, especially when Eddie threw himself onto the bannister to slide down and get in his face.

“We’ve gone against far scarier things than paperwork and rich gits before, Hagan. Maybe get the fuck out before you find out how we dealt with them.” He loomed over the other, “Steve isn’t marrying you.”

Tommy slapped a few pages onto Eddie’s chest. “These say he is. Don’t worry, you won’t be invited.”

“Tommy.” Steve had the warning tone, usually used before he insisted on getting the kids home. “Maybe turn around and see how my family agrees with that. My parents don’t have the right to sign contracts on my behalf any more.”

Behind him Joyce and Hopper had just pulled up, most of the kids with them since they’d had a sleepover the night before. Steve hadn’t explained anything to them yet, but Robin had said that if they were actually going to have a courthouse wedding that day all the party should be there too.

Tommy looked at them and was quick to leave, calling back “I’ll see you at the wedding then, begging to be forgiven for this nonsense.”

“Wedding?” Hopper asked, looking back to Steve curiously. “That’s what you called us for?”

“Yep, Steve and I are going to the courthouse and want everyone there. Please ignore the arrangement his parents made as we all are.” Robin nodded, grinning as if that made everything make sense.

Jonathan looked over at her with narrowed eyes, “Wait, if Eddie is now Steve’s boyfriend then why is he still marrying you?”

“Harder for the Harrington’s to argue with it if Steve can carry on his family.” Nancy explained. “By law, their contract could be enforced on Steve if a judge decides the marriage he took first wasn’t between equals or was less viable than the one proposed by the arrangement, so marrying Robin is better. Also her parents insist that she can only marry a man and had that written up in a contract so this way she fulfils it and if she decides she wants to marry a woman in the future then Steve’s the one who can agree to it.”

Robin span to face her, stunned. “I didn’t tell you about that. Also how do you know the divorce thing?”

“Mrs Harrington wrote up the contract for them apparently and kept a copy for some reason. I did wonder if you might’ve been an option for their arranged marriage after finding it but there were some insulting letters from your parents received after that was done, essentially saying they never should have done that.” Nancy explained. “I thought you knew where it came from.”

“I did know that. Dad mentioned it when he was criticising me for getting a job specifically to remain working with you. That they’d sorted the contract out I mean.” Steve added, “It’s actually part of why I agreed to your joking suggestion.”

“Dingus.” Robin said fondly, “Such a thoughtful dingus who failed to tell me information about my own life. Let’s get the rest of the kids and get to that courthouse.”

“Seriously? You finally get Robin to marry you and you aren’t even dating? Come on Steve, she’s perfect for you.” Dustin exclaimed, getting out of Hopper’s truck and hurrying over to hit him on the arm.

Both Steve and Robin laughed, while Eddie shoved down on Dustin’s head. “I happen to think I’m perfect for him instead. Stop deciding you know our relationships better than us.”

Shoving him off, Dustin shook his head, “But they like read each others minds, insist on not parting. How can you not see it?”

“Oh we see it alright, that’s why we’re getting married. Just don’t see it as romantic or anything other than platonic.” Steve sniped back. “Now are you being a best man, or are you bitching from the back row? Decide while I raid my parents room for suitable rings.”

“I’m not letting you decide that alone, Dingus. Show me the jewellery boxes.” Robin called, following as he headed back into the house.

El emerged from the truck now, smiling a little, “Are we really having a wedding today? Movies make them seem fun but difficult to arrange.”

Joyce hummed a little. “They can be; Most people have distant friends or relatives to invite and want specific locations that need booking far in advance, but people can just as easily go to a courthouse for a small ceremony to file a marriage which doesn’t take long at all to do.”

“But why would they do it?” El innocently asked. “There’s nothing they’d need to rush for, is there?”

Jonathan shook his head, “There is, El. Steve found out this morning that his parents have arranged a marriage for him. Either he needs to marry someone before it or he’ll be made to marry Thomas Hagan, one of his old school friends who was far more of a bully than Steve ever was.”

“It’s an outdated thing but annoyingly legal. Why wouldn’t they want their heir to-” Hopper began to ask but broke off, seeing the kids curious gazes turn to him. If the kids hadn’t learnt how the wealthy viewed sexualities he didn’t want to start that explanation right now.

“He isn’t the heir and that was hidden from Steve and all of Hawkins. I’ve not uncovered a reason why in their documents left here.” Nancy replied regardless.

Will leant out of the car to call, “Do we need fancy outfits for the wedding or is casual good enough?”

“We’re all going for casual but Steve’s insisting on wearing the suit his parents sent.” Eddie yelled back. “I think we should celebrate tonight by throwing all the paint we can at it so it looks less stuffy. You got some old paints we could use for that?”

Laughter echoed his call, everyone relaxing now they knew what was going on, at least until Lucas pointed out Erica and Max definitely needed fetching for the wedding or they’d raise hell about getting left out.

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Receptionist Danny working in the main Wayne lobby

First few days at the job site and Danny was already regretting getting this job.

Why?

Because this exact scenario had been repeated five times already just today. Not as persistent as THIS one though. God he is so tired of this bull. It got tiring after the third time now he's just tired and annoyed.

A bad combo considering Danny the "Town Menace Phantom" Fenton was beginning to lose the little patients he had left.

' just count down from ten like Jazz had taught me years ago'. Danny gave a sigh and kept repeating the mantra in his mind.

He has to stay strong he fought ghost for years! What is a few minutes worth of questions from a few eager journalist? He could handle Wes how could they be any worse?

Oh who was he kidding certainly not himself! Not after having suffered a day full of questions about shit he didn't know squat about.

This situation with this gender bent Wes was WORSE considering Danny couldn't just tell her to piss off. The others had just asked a few questions or had gotten turned down regarding questions. Not TO bad. He could handle it. He still kinda liked this job. Well, he likes the work benefits. It was the main reason he applied after all.

So give him some credit this was the sixth harpy "journalist" to come sniffing around after having gotten wind of a new employee in the main office. Though their sources must be bad. He was just a receptionist! Not the new head of the financing department or Bruce Wayne's new secretary, leave him alone!

He doesn't know what the company boss does??? Why ask him? How would lil' old receptionist Danny Fenton know!

Has he not suffered enough?? His suffering with this specific harpy had been going on for the past twenty five minutes.

"So, where does Bruce Wayne leave for during his meetings? A new woman? Man? Trouble in the family?"

Vicky Vale as she had introduced herself before had officially made Danny hear his last strained thread of patients fraying. He could only take so much before the menace in him gott done with this nonsense. Time for Ms Vale to go away, fuck off and not come back. Danny menace mode ON now.

Smiling the most customer service™ smile he could manage Danny responded in the flattest tone he was capable of.

"Well to fuck your mom of course, Ms Vale."

And of course at just the moment the older receptionist Ms Linda Smith that had been in charge of showing Danny the territory before retirement finally came back. With two coffee cups in her hands. She had taken off on her break the moment she spotted Ms Vale walking towards the front desk. She promised to grab him a coffee on her way back. Truly abandoning him to the wolves. Or wolf. She had bribed him and Danny hadn't even known what kind of suffering awaited him. Ms Linda had started speaking.

"Okay Danny no we don't---

Danny didn't know exactly what was up with the big boss and his family. Something was definitely up but he didn't think it was bad.

"And your dad, because we here at Wayne enterprises support the LBGTQIA community. Thank you and leave.

((((((((((((End )))))))))))) :)

Thank you for reading! I might do some more for this idea again. This is basically just the idea by @some-rotten-nest link below. I've had a similar idea about Danny being an evil assistant before. Not a receptionist though. It was fun writing this I keep thinking about all the interesting scenarios that could play out in this (Au?) Idea. Also I just wanted to test the waters. I've never written anything and actually posted it before. I hope this was okay. Um bye and have a good day oh am I kidding have a good night!

This idea is based on this https://www.tumblr.com/some-rotten-nest/725017913035276288/danny-fenton-a-new-receptionist-at-wayne by the amazing @some-rotten-nest ! I was just so inspired by it, all of my creative instincts were just itching to make something for this<3

>:D

[sxmpfxrortega]

an: soo this is my first time posting a fanfic before so please go easy on me ;( i usually just write them for myself but ya know... where's the fun in not sharing? i want to start doing g!p soon so if this doesn't completely bomb, i'll definitely do more!

5 Sheets to the Wind

"Max, this party doesn't seem like the best of ideas" You say, rubbing your temples at the very thought of blaring music.

Max rolls his eyes and gives you a deadpan, "You and I both know that this is much needed time away from the shit show we've endured."

You raise an eyebrow at him and his antics, "...you mean, work?" You retort, laughing slightly at him.

"Uh, duh, what else could I possibly be talking about that is so mentally and physically draining???" He fires back, eyes bulging out from his skull.

You sigh and ponder the thought of the party; you didn't know many people attending and it wasn't like you were too socially awkward, just enough to not be able to meet new people well. "Fine, I'll go to the dumb party with you" You gave up, having enough of his pleading puppy dog eyes.

Max fist bumps the air and yells cheerfully, "Sweet! Do you want to meet there or?"

"I can pick you up, dork. What time does it start?"

Max looks at his phone, "Uh, 9 I think?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose and look at the time, 7:35.

"Okay dude, if I'm going, I need to be ready so...skiddaddle out and I'll be at your house at 9:30"

Max raises a questioning eyebrow at you but you wave him off before he says anything, "Late is early, ya know, I don't really feel like being the first ones to be there, now shoo" You say, swatting at him to leave your apartment.

You lock the door and make your way to the bathroom to shower, putting your music on shuffle for the time being.

After what feels like forever, you make your way back to your room, your short hair damp and a towel draped around your tall frame.

'Ugh, why must I have so many clothes but never know what to wear?' You think to yourself, growing slightly frustrated.

You opted for a black and white striped shirt, ripped black jeans, and white high top vans.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you put some coconut oil in your hair to make your curls look good.

While putting your deodorant and cologne on, you check the time.

"Damn, 9:15 already? Time flies when you try to make yourself look presentable" you say aloud to absolutely no one but yourself.

'Phone, wallet, keys... am I forgetting anything?' You mentally make a check list as it dawns on you.

"Oh yeah!"

You were an avid pothead, so going to a a party without bud just seemed like a major party foul.

You head out of your apartment and lock up, jumping into your Jeep, you make your way to Max's house.

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

Finally arriving at the house party, you notice that there is indeed a shit ton of people here.

"Uh, Max? Who exactly is throwing this party, because this seems like a banger." Your palms get slightly sweaty at all of the people gathered outside; god only knows what the inside looks like.

He thinks for a moment, "Honestly dude, I'm not really sure, someone semi famous, but that's all I got." He shrugs and hops out of your car, you follow suit, stuffing your hands into your pockets.

Max takes the lead and heads inside the house, the music so loud you can barely hear your inner monologue, but hey, at least it's good music.

"You want a drink to loosen up?" Max yells to you, even though he's right beside you.

"Sure, if they have beer, I'll take it" you yell back to him, watching him disappear into the kitchen for your drinks.

A sigh escapes your lips as you make your way into the big ass living room, you plop down on the sofa that surprisingly isn't taken.

Max appears from out of no where with a bottle of beer and a sketchy looking solo cup.

"What's in your cup, dude?" you ask curiously, sniffing the contents, your nose scrunching up at the mixture of alcohol.

"Jungle Juice" was all he said as he gulped it down like it was water.

"Now that's sick, bro" you say laughing at the face he made after.

"Says the one drinking hotdog water." He claps back with an eyeroll.

"Touché" you shrug, "but, I like it so, it's an acquired taste."

Max finishes off his concoction and gets up from the couch, "Mingle man, it is a party after all, I am going to try to find some girls and see how good my skills are." He says, flexing his biceps.

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your mouth, "Oh, please, save some for the rest of us, lady killer."

He huffs out and mumbles something, walking away.

You chug the rest of your beer, getting up from the couch to grab another one when a pair of brown eyes catches your attention.

'Oh damn, fuck, what the hell'

Ahh, there it is, your internal monologue, you thought the bass was too loud but apparently not for what you've just witnessed.

Standing there in all her 5'1 glory, The Jenna fucking Ortega.

Your eyes are practically out of your head at the moment and your jaw is on the floor, how the fuck and who the fuck is person who threw this party?

Not wanting to seem like a creep, you stalk your way into the kitchen, pushing past several bodies to get to the cooler that has a plethora of beer in it.

You opted for a Corona, wanting to feel it fast, you chug half the bottle.

"I like your outfit" a voice says behind you.

You spin around and look down.

No. Fucking. Way.

Jenna fucking Ortega is talking to you, and she likes your outfit.

Gay panic is setting in and you're trying so hard not to let that show.

"Oh, uh, thank you, I didn't really know what to wear" you chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck.

'Why the fuck would you say that, you gay bitch?!' your brain is screaming at you and all you want is the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

She giggles sweetly and looks up at you, "You wanna go to the backyard, they have a fire going out there and I'm sure we could hear each other better too."

Your voice feels trapped in your throat so all you do is nod dumbly.

She takes your hand gently and leads you through a large crowd of people.

Sitting on the swing in the backyard, you look at the flames from the fire, it feels as if you're dreaming.

You can definitely feel the alcohol creeping up on you, but you only chug more of your beer.

'Don't even say it.' your brain is scolding you but you aren't listening, "Sorry, I'm a little uh, starstruck right now and on top of that, I'm pretty socially awkward at times." you ramble off, not wanting to scare her away.

She looks at you and you feel like you're being hypnotized, she's absolutely breathtaking and you cannot believe you are in this situation.

"Starstruck huh? There's a good amount of famous people here, but I'm the one you're starstruck over?" she says with a mischievous glint in her eye and a smirk playing on her lips.

Before you can stop yourself from saying something stupid, your mouth opens without warning, "Well, they aren't you so, very starstruck would be a better way of saying it." you say back to her, looking into her brown eyes, getting lost in them.

She takes a drink from her solo cup, keeping eye contact with you doin so.

"Did you get the jungle juice too?" you ask with the curiosity of a child.

She laughs and scrunches her nose up, "God no, I'm drinking Hennessy, jungle juice is too chaotic for my taste buds"

You're about to say something when a guy comes to the backyard yelling, "Spin the bottle is goin' down in like, 5 minutes!"

You look at her but she's already looking at you, her eyes roaming your body.

"You wanna play?" you ask her smoothly, thanking the stars that you didn't stutter that out.

She raises a perfect brow at you and smirks, "Come on, we aren't children who plays those games."

You squint your eyes at her and challenge out, "Sounds like something someone would say if they were afraid."

She feigns shock, putting her hand to her chest, "Me? Afraid? Let's go then, you get to lead the way this time, though."

You give her a goofy smile, standing up and offering her your hand, the alcohol definitely helped you loosen up more.

You both made your way into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa, she's sitting so close to you, so much so that she's basically in your lap.

Some random dude starts talking and then asks who wants to go first, it's a pretty big group so someone definitely volunteers.

It's Jenna's turn to spin the bottle and you're praying to every god you can think of that it lands on you.

She spins it gracefully and it goes on for a good amount of time, slowing down, it lands on you.

You feel your cheeks heat up at a fast rate and you clear your throat.

'Thank you, power of manifesting, you are amazing'

"U-uh, so, heh, m-may I kiss you?" you say, stuttering almost every syllable.

God you were a mess at this point but that isn't at all what you were thinking, what was on your mind was one thing and one thing only; trying to not faint if she says yes.

She looks at you with something in her eyes, but the alcohol isn't quite letting you decipher what that would be,

"You know, they say chivalry is dead, here you are asking consent for a spin the bottle game." She says with a sly smile playing on her lips.

Your face heats up and before you can start stuttering out a retort, she grabs your face and kisses you passionately.

Stars.

That's what you saw, stars.

She pulls away but not without biting your bottom lip.

"W-wow I uh-" before you can finish your sentence the game is continuing.

You look over at her and she's blushing softly, she leans into your body and whispers in your ear, "maybe it could happen again, if you can find me." She ends her sentence with a smirk and the next thing you know, she stands and drifts out into a sea of bodies.

"Fuck." was the only word you could manage to get out.

[moonswolfie]

Capricious feelings

Atsumu x gn!reader

(this could be read as pre or post timeskip tsumu so have fun with it 💙)

I am back on my "haikyuu fics based off vocaloid songs" grind after the first one was moderately successful, so I bring you:

Kimagure Mercy and Atsumu except the ending is good because i am smitten for atsumu and cannot write him as an asshole even though he absolutely would be one😭

Warnings: a few swear words, sort of angst to sort of fluff

He's calling you again. You only roll your eyes, waiting for your phone to stop ringing and turning away to focus on whatever else you're doing.

You know why he's calling, anyways. It's cuz he wants your help, or wants to borrow some money, or has some other favour that he wants from you.

You see, Atsumu's your boyfriend on paper, but in practice, things couldn't be more different. The "relationship", if you can even still call it that, is on the verge of collapsing. He only ever calls you when he needs favours, constantly making excuses for his distant behaviour.

The phone stops ringing, and you take a breath of relief, only for it to start ringing again a few seconds. God, he must really want a favour if he bothered calling twice in a row. You sigh, picking up the phone.

"Hi, how are ya?" He's using a sweet, gentle tone to butter you up as always. You regretfully know all of his little tricks by now.

"I'm fine. Why are you calling?" You're aware that you sound a little cold and harsh, but what's the point in useless small talk when you already know that isn't why he's calling?

"Come over, will ya?"

Those words froze you for a second. Whenever he asked you to come over, it would always end with him sucking your face off and then ignoring you until you leave. It always leaves you feeling sick and empty, knowing those kisses mean nothing to him.

Yet someway, somehow, you find yourself feeling giddy whenever he takes your hand or wraps his arms around your waist. And you hate that you do.

You absolutely hate the thought of falling in love with him. Not with that selfish, self-obsessed asshole who only uses you for favours and doesn't give a damn about you. But your heart insists on betraying your mind, your reason.

"Are ya there? You've been real quiet..." his voice snaps you out of your train of thought. "Yeah, I'm coming."

You don't know why you still bend to his will every time, you could easily say no, break up with him and never talk to him again. Maybe you actually do know why... and you don't like the reason.

"Lovely, I'll be waitin'. Bye now." he hung up the phone. As always, he has you wrapped around his finger, otherwise you wouldn't be making your way to his house right now. You live relatively close to him, so the walk isn't long. You briefly think about turning around and going back home. But once again, your stupid heart wins.

You ring the doorbell, and a sudden wave of regret flushes over you. Should you really be falling into his arms again? Should you have ignored your mind, telling you to turn back?

Before you even have a chance to run away, the door opens. "Heya, sweets. Come on in." That smile is a deceptive mask, and you know it. You silently walk in, sitting down on the couch, your usual make-out spot. You just have to get it over with and hope your stomach doesn't churn from guilt later.

He sits down beside you, and you close your eyes in anticipation to be roughly grabbed by him. But it doesn't come.

"Are you good? Ya look a lil' pale." the concern in his voice was completely unexpected.

"Since when do you care how I'm doing?" You have no idea what came over you in that moment. Normally you would brush it off, lie to him, or assure him you're fine. But he'd never asked you that with such concern before, and you don't know what to do with yourself anymore.

"I'm yer boyfriend, of course I-"

"Oh, shut up! You only care when you want a favour from me!" You stood up, clenching your hands into fists. "You don't actually give a damn about me, do you?! You don't love me, you only love yourself!!" All your repressed feelings suddenly came spilling out.

He looked awfully surprised by your behaviour, probably because you finally didn't bend to his will once. Because you finally said what's on your mind. It felt good, but at the same time, your heart felt a pang of pain once the words you said finally registered in your brain.

"I... this is what I called ya over for, actually...." he looked to the ground, wearing a solemn expression. His mask of confidence was breaking.

"...What?"

"I know that I'm a horrible boyfriend, but I'm goin' ta fix that." He looked back up at you, determination shining in his eyes.

This was a conversation you never ever expected to have. Is this a cruel prank? Would Atsumu do that to you?

"I don't... understand. Why now?" You weren't sure what to think right now. You're honestly thinking too many things, feeling too many emotions at once right now.

"Because, I ended up realisin' that ya deserve better than this. Honestly, yer too good fer me." Knowing Atsumu, it must've taken a lot for him to throw away his pride and ego just to admit this.

At your silence, he continued. "My point is, I wanna be better for ya, give this whole love thing a shot, ya know? But if ya really feel that way, you can break up with me, I won't mind..."

"Atsumu, you ass." He flinched slightly at your response, searching your face for your emotions. "You can't do this to me." Right when you finally felt strong enough to call him out, he decides to pull you right back in and make you feel all horrible.

You sigh. "You're a lucky man, Atsumu. But these better not be empty promises." Your hopeless heart wins you over once again. Yet this time, you feel assured. Assured that Atsumu will do the right thing.

Atsumu finally felt like he could breathe again, placing a hand on his chest. "Would I ever break a promise I made?" He asked with a relieved smile.

"Honestly.... you seem like you would." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Hey, I didn't promise to better myself just so you can insult me!"

[resowrites]

Bora Bora - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his wife contend with an unwelcome guest on their honeymoon…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, language, implied smut, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2110

A/N: This was slightly rushed as I didn’t have much time, I’m also on a break from writing so the next post will be early May. Don’t worry, Henry and Ollie’s story will be concluded. Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up) and not in any way meant to reflect reality. As ever, let me know your thoughts - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Bora Bora - oneshot.

A rising scream ripped through the room. By the time Henry's eyes had adjusted to the blackness, he could see his wife was out of bed and hopping from one foot to the other. "O-Ollie? What… what are you doing? Are you alright?" She began babbling a mile a minute. He fumbled for the lamp on the bedside table. The shock of light filling the villa caused them both to wince.

"It crawled across my shoulders! Where is it? WHERE IS IT?!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Come on, let's get back to sleep…" Henry made for the edge of the bed, leading her to cry out.

"No, don't! It's probably still in there!"

"What is? What are you talking about?!"

"The spider!" His eyes fell to their crumpled but otherwise empty bed.

"Darling you must have had a nightmare, come on, it's after three…" Henry motioned for her to lie down but instead, she began tentatively pulling back the covers. "What on earth are you doing now?"

"I'm not getting back into bed with that bloody thing—"

"Well I could say the same but luckily for you, I don't!" She grabbed her pillow and chucked it at him. Henry caught it midair and winged it back in her direction, though she'd already turned to run.

"Don't throw it at me! ARGHHHHHH GET IT AWAY!!!" The pillow hit her square on the backside, sending her soaring upwards. He was beside himself. "IS IT ON ME?! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!!!"

"Calm down, it was only a joke! I don't know where it is but shush otherwise the hotel manager's gunna be banging on our door!" She finally stood still, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Good, I can ask him to evict you, you'll be stranded on the fucking beach for the rest of the night!"

"Well that's fine by me, at least I'll be able to get some sleep!" But she'd already started stripping the bed in search of the offending creature.

"Why do you need to change the sheets?!"

"Cos I don't want to sleep where it's been crawling about, the sodding thing was the size of a golf ball!" Henry laughed.

"Well don't worry, I'm sure you've scared it and every other creature off this island…" She bolted upright.

"Wait a minute, they don't have poisonous spiders in Bora Bora do they?" She dropped the sheets gathered in her hands back onto the bed and started frantically checking her arms.

"No you muppet, besides I'm sure they'd have better taste…"

"What's that supposed to mean? And where are you off to?"

"I'm going for a Jimmy riddle…"

"No you're bloody not, you're not leaving me alone in here with it!" She came around the side of the bed and blocked his path to the bathroom.

"So I'm meant to keep watch the rest of the night am I? Lest my lady should be unable to sleep?" But she wasn't listening, instead, she'd returned to the top of the bed and was trying to heave the frame towards her. "Oh that's a good idea, the headboard won't keep slamming into the wall now. Our next-door neighbours will be pleased—"

"Shut up and help me, you idiot!"

"… What's my reward if I do?" Henry looked at her suggestively.

"Listen, you either start searching or I'm never having sex with you again." He sighed.

"Already? We've been married less than a week!"

"Then I suggest you stop gobbing off and help me look for it!"

"Ollie, I can't see it anywhere, the lucky bugger's managed to escape…"

"Well I won't get a wink of sleep until I know for sure—"

"Can I at least get back into bed?"

"No!"

"What do I do then?!"

"I dunno, go sleep on the veranda—"

"You're being ridiculous!"

"And you're being unhelpful, you know I don't like spiders and you won't even help me find it!" Henry sighed again and rubbed his eyes.

"Well you've already searched everywhere, where else do you want me to look, up my arse?!" But she was crouching on the floor, trying to see under the bed.

"OLLIE WHAT'S THAT?!" He'd leaned over and flung a balled-up sock at her shin. She shot up and shrieked so loud it was a wonder the fire alarm didn't go off.

"YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER SHIT!" Thoroughly fed up, she grabbed the glass of water off her bedside table and chucked its contents straight at Henry.

"What did you do that for?! I'm bloody soaked!" He coughed and spluttered as he tried to rub the water from his eyes. Henry then lunged forwards and swept her into a fireman's lift.

"What are you doing?! Put me down you twat!!!" Even from her upturned position, she could see he was heading for the veranda.

"Nope, you've got to conquer this fear, Ollie. And at the very least, a night outside with French Polynesia's wildlife will give you a greater appreciation for your already long-suffering husband…"

"Henry you put me down right now or I'll file for divorce!"

"Oh well, that'll make a dent in my bank account now but in the long run, I'm sure it'll work out cheaper…" Henry came to a halt and unceremoniously dumped her back on the bed. The spider not forgotten, however, she bolted off it.

"Don't put me on the bloody bed!" He chuckled as he went to fetch a towel from the bathroom.

"Don't do this, don't do that, God what is it about marriage that turns women into such bloody nags?"

"Well for all we know the room's infested!"

"Oh God, how much seawater did you swallow yesterday?!"

"Henry, this isn't funny—"

"Ollie, the only pest I can see is the one in front of me, now let's get to bed it's late and we've probably woken up the whole of the South Pacific—" Henry was then interrupted by a loud knock. They looked at each other like two schoolchildren caught smoking during break time. He made his way to the door and opened it a fraction of an inch. "Oh, hi. Yeah, no, everything's fine. My wife just fell out of bed," she wanted to throttle him. "I'm really sorry. Yeah, no you'll have no more noise out of us. Okay, great, goodnight." When Henry closed the door and made eye contact with her again, they both burst out laughing. "Trust you to get us in trouble with the bloody management, if we get thrown out of this place it'll be your bloody fault!"

"Me?! You were the one threatening to dump me on the veranda at twenty past three in the morning. And how dare you tell the hotel manager I'm a clutz!"

"Are you kidding me?! Have you forgotten that on our first day here, you walked right into the sliding doors?"

"You promised you wouldn't keep bringing that up!"

"Well anyway, you were the one who threw water at me, even though it was you who woke me up—"

"Well it's not my fault a spider got in here, you're the one who keeps leaving the sliding doors open!"

"Oh excuse me for wanting to enjoy our ocean view rather than sitting in here listening to the ramblings of a madwoman!"

"How am I the mad one when you don't like spiders either? God help us if it had crawled over you instead, all hell would have broken loose!"

"Is that right?!"

"Yeah, you'd probably have requested another room—"

"Well carry on and I will!"

"Fine, you can leave right now, I wouldn't want you to sleep in and miss making a pig of yourself at breakfast again - two hours you had to lie down for afterward!"

"Well you wouldn't rub my belly! I hope that's not a preview of how you're going to treat me in our sunset years—"

"Oh and before you go, check the doors to make sure they're actually shut, or God knows what's going to find its way into our room next." He smirked at her exasperated look but otherwise did as he was told.

"… Wow."

What is it?"

"Come here…"

"Why?"

"Just come here!" She'd already plonked herself down on the bed exhausted and groaned as she got back up again.

"What?" Henry wrapped his arm around her and pointed up at the full, very large moon. For a moment, all she could do was look on in awe. "It's beautiful…"

"Just like you." They both smiled and shared a kiss. He then pushed back the sliding doors so he could lead them both onto the veranda. Once they were outside, he hugged her close to his chest, her head resting in the middle of it while they watched the waves lapping at the shore. Other than the rush of water and a steady hum of insects, the night was calm.

"Thank you for bringing me here…" Henry beamed down at her.

"And thank you for being here with me, there's not a single thing I'd change… well, spider's notwithstanding." She ignored his cheeky grin. "You're not cold, are you?"

"No, I'm fine. It's still pretty mild out." They stood silently, wrapped in each other's arms. She then felt something brush along the top of her arm and couldn't help but cry out. Henry had lightly traced her skin with the tips of his fingers and was bent over laughing. "Oh my God, you tool!"

"What?! Don't have a go at me, I can't help it if you felt the sea breeze!" She gave an annoyed huff.

"I can't believe I agreed to marry you…"

"I know, it feels good though, doesn't it?" She softened.

"Mm-hmm and we had a beautiful wedding, even if you did shove cake in my face…"

"I wanted you to check whether it had gone off! Anyway, what about what you said before we started reciting our vows?"

"What did I say?"

"I asked quietly if you were crying and you said no, they weren't tears you were just allergic to me!" She snorted.

"Well the minister found it funny… and I wasn't expecting to get so emotional! It's weird, I didn't think it was that big a deal but when we were standing there together…" He smiled as she trailed off. "Anyway, it's a bit rich to suggest I embarrassed you after that speech your brother gave." Henry bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

"Why, what was wrong with it?"

"No, you're right, what's wrong with telling a large group of our family and closest friends that he hoped no one had left their coats on our bed, what with walking in on us making out on everyone's stuff in the guest room at your parents house two Christmases back?"

"Aww he was just retelling a heartfelt moment—"

"It wasn't so heartfelt when he then said he recognised a couple of the jackets people had on!" He snickered.

"Well, what can I say?! You married a Cavill…"

"Oh God, I did, didn't I?"

"… Thank you though."

"The honour's all mine. Even though you let me be terrorised by a spider…" Henry tutted.

"Well you had no problem snorkelling with me the other day! How is a spider any scarier than jellyfish?" Her head snapped upwards.

"What do you mean? There wasn't any jellyfish was there?!" He broke down giggling and she thwacked his chest. "You're so bloody mean! I'm not meant to be this scared out of my wits on our honeymoon!" Henry tilted her chin so they were face to face.

"Listen, so long as I'm by your side, you'll always be protected. Alright?"

"… Do you mean it?"

"Of course! I took a vow to do so for the rest of my life. No matter how much of a big baby you are…" She rolled her eyes and sauntered back towards the bedroom. Just as she stepped inside, she spun around and quickly slid the doors closed. He rushed forwards.

"Hey! Let me back in!" Henry tried to bang on the glass as quietly as possible.

"Apologise and I'll consider it…"

"Apologise for what?!"

"You know what bloody for!"

"… Fine. Your reaction towards a small, nonvenomous insect was completely proportionate—"

"Henry, I will leave you out there all night—"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, now will you please let me back inside?" She didn't wish to did so anyway, figuring that he'd only be a bigger nuisance outside than in. But she soon found herself being dragged back onto the veranda and lifted onto his shoulders once more.

"Henry, don't you dare throw me in the hot tub!"

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo

[ikeromantic]

Hi! I have an idea for Ikemen Sengoku: Making a Gingerbread House with MC! It can be all 17 suitors (if that's okay with you!) getting together and making a gingerbread house (Ieyasu being like "you want us to make a house made out of ginger-flavored bread? 🤣) and eating it by the end?

Happy Holidays!

🎄

Happy Holidays!

I sat on this request for nearly a year, just so I could post at the holiday xD  It’s rather long, but you DID ask for allllll 17 warlords! 

Mai sat on a stool in the vast kitchen, staring at the tiled counters and wooden tables. When she’d proposed a gingerbread contest, she did not expect all the warlords to jump on the idea so agreeably. But they did. Maybe it was the idea that it was a contest . . . 

Nobunaga

He frowned fiercely at the leaning tower of crisp gingerbread. “This is not sufficient. The frothing will not hold and I have yet to add the tenshu.” 

Mai giggled. “You can’t be serious. It’s already taller than anyone else’s gingerbread house. And it’s frosting. Not frothing.”

Nobunaga’s eyes sparked dangerously. “I cannot win if my castle lacks a tenshu.”

“That might be true . . .” Mai teased. 

The cookie tower looked as if it might fall over any moment. Nobunaga began to systematically add supports, determined to win at all costs. “I will make it work,” he growled.

Hideyoshi

His cookie table was an array of smaller gingerbread buildings. He bent over each, adding little details that identified them as shops, houses, and guard towers. 

“That’s really nice, Hideyoshi. But you do know, you only needed to make one house, right?” Mai peered over his shoulder.

“Of course, but Lord Oda’s castle must have a town.” He grinned. “You see? Here is the first shop I took you to, and there is a tea house where we shared a drink together. And there is the gate you met me at when I came back from a battle.”

Mai’s cheeks flushed. “All these places are places we were at together?”

“Yes.”

“That is so sweet!”

Hideyoshi gave a roguish grin. “Sweet enough to win?”

“Maybe,” Mai laughed.

Mitsuhide

Mai found Mitsuhide’s gingerbread house finished. It was a lovely little two story with delicate frosting decorations. Tiny gumdrop people stood outside, and after a moment, she realized there was one for each of the Azuchi warlords, even one that was clearly Mitsuhide. But there was no sign of the man himself.

She went looking for him, but he wasn’t any place she expected to find him. Frustrated, she headed out to the yard to see if he’d left early. When she did, she spotted him slipping into the ingredient storeroom.

“There you are!”

Mitsuhide dropped the gingerbread ingredients he was holding. “Hello there, little mouse.”

Mai raised an eyebrow. “Whatcha doing? Nothing nefarious I hope?”

“Me? Never.” He winked. “Did you follow me here for a little . . . private time? Does it count as cheating if I make love to the judge?” 

“No. And yes.” She put a fist to her hip. “You should probably get back before someone realizes your gingerbread house is undefended.” 

He left with another salacious look. She made a note to herself to make sure no one used the ingredients he’d touched. You could never be too careful.

Kyubei

Kyubei sat in front of a pile of gingerbread pieces, looking confused. 

“Can’t decide what to make,” Mai asked.

“I’m not a warlord, so I’m not sure why I’m being included in this contest. Things would not go well for me if I won . . .” Kyubei sighed. 

“That’s ok. I understand. If you don’t want a shot at the grand prize -”

Kyubei’s eyes widened. “What is the prize? I didn’t know there was a prize!”

“Well . . . it’s nothing much. A day out with me. Silly, right?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Y-yeah. Ummm . . . I just uh, remembered what I wanted to build, sooooo . . .” He leaned forward and began to arrange his cookies. 

Mai shrugged. “Ok. I guess I’ll leave you to it then? Good luck!”

Kyubei was too focused to reply.

Masamune

“Masamune,” Mai said his name with a questioning tone. “That doesn’t look like a house.”

The one-eyed dragon had crumbled his cookies in rows, and used the frosting to construct a series of tubes, ramps, and basins. He was eyeballing what looked like a turning gear made from gingerbread when Mai walked up, but set it down to grin at her. “It’s not! I was just thinking I can use this ginger-bread to model an irrigation system I’ve been working on.”

“Umm. Alright. That’s pretty neat, actually.” Mai leaned close to look at the work he’d done so far. “How’s it going then?”

“Better than expected. Although I had to reinforce the joins here -” he pointed, “and here. I think this cookie has structural integrity issues.” 

Mai nodded. “Well, it is just a cookie.” She sighed. “I hope you’re not planning on running actual water through it?”

“How else would I test it, kitten?” He ruffled her hair.  

Ieyasu

Ieyasu frowned fiercely at the stacked gingerbread cookies on his table. “This is stupid.” His jade glare was in full force as Mai stopped by to see how he was doing. 

“Well, you don’t have to make one if you don’t want to.” She smiled at him and added, “though I’d really love to see what you come up with.”

His cheeks heated and he glanced away. “I hope you aren’t smiling like that at everyone.”

“Like what?”

Ieyasu gave a disgusted sigh. “I better win this thing, is all I’m saying.”

Mai laughed. “Then you should get to building. Mitsuhide’s already finished and Nobunaga has a tower twice as tall as anyone else’s gingerbread house.”

“Pfft. Don’t try to make me jealous.” He gave her an unreadable side-eyed look.

“I’m just telling you there’s some serious competition. But I know you can do it.” 

“Ugh. And now you’re trying to cheer me up,” he tried to frown but the corners of his lips kept curling up in a little smile.

Mitsunari

Mai paused a few steps away from Mitsunari. He had several blue prints around his work station, and his cookies were all organized by thickness, size, and coloration. He was focused intently on sticking two of the pieces together when she finally approached him.

“Mitsunari? How’s it going?”

He didn’t look up or acknowledge her presence.

Mai waved a hand in front of his face, but Mitsunari didn’t seem to notice that either. “Hey, can you hear me? Mitsunari? Hello?”

He continued to work with single-minded intensity. 

“Alright. I guess you’re in the zone, huh?” She eyed the house he was building. It reminded her of something. “Is this . . . Oshi castle?”

Mitsunari still didn’t reply and after a few moments of silence, Mai shrugged and moved on. She supposed he would tell her soon enough, once he got back from Planet Mitsunari.

Keiji

Keiji sat with his arms crossed, glaring at a haphazard lean-to of burnt cookie. The edges were crumbling away, even with the frosting to hold them steady.

“Oh no! What happened?”

He glanced up at her sharply. “I’ll tell you what happened. These hands were not made to bake! What kind of weird idea is this, anyway?”

“Awww. You’re so adorable when you pout.” Mai reached out and wiped a bit of frosting off his cheek, making sure to brush her fingers along the sensitive spot at his jaw line. 

Keiji snatched her hand. “That’s cheating, princess.”

“Maybe, but I bet you feel more motivated now, hm?”

He laughed, his foul mood vanishing as if it had never been. “Maybe.”

“Then get in there and do your best! I’m rooting for you.” Mai grinned and pulled her hand back just before Keiji managed to lick the frosting off her fingertip.

Ranmaru

“Oh, wow! Ranmaru . . .” Mai’s eyes widened when she got close enough to see Ranmaru’s gingerbread house. It was the most adorable little temple ever made of cookie. It sat atop a little cookie mountain, dusted with sugar-snow. Candied animals gathered around it, big eyed, adorable creatures with happy little smiles. A gingerbread monk stood in the doorway, his robes made of pretty purple frosting, and despite a jagged crack in his cookie face, he also sported a wide grin.

“Do you like it?” Ranmaru tucked a bit of hair behind his ear, anxious and eager for praise.

“It’s amazing! Everything is so cute!”

He smiled happily. “Good! Even if I don’t win, I’m just glad my little cookie house made you smile.”

Mai’s heart turned to mush at his sweetness. “You are too much,” she sighed. 

“Are you sure I’m not just enough for you?” He gave her an unexpectedly saucy wink.

“I don’t know. If you get any sweeter, you’ll give me a toothache.” Mai laughed.

“Then I’d get to nurse you until you were better.” Ranmaru’s expression was suddenly thoughtful and calculating. Then he giggled, his usual cute grin firmly back in place. “Only kidding! I’d never want that to happen to you!”

Kenshin

Mai cleared her throat to announce her approach as she neared Kenshin’s work table. It was never wise to surprise the God of War. 

“There you are,” he said, without turning to look at her. “I was wondering when you’d come by.”

She smiled. He always pretended to be so chilly, but she knew better. “So what are you making? It looks like a - a -” Mai leaned closer, examining the little cookie house. “It’s a rabbit hutch! And those are bunnies!”

Kenshin gave her a thin half-smile. “You are correct. This is Take, and there is Matsu, and over here being naughty is Ume. She is eating radish in the garden.” 

“Oh?” Mai looked even closer. He’d crafted a tiny daikon out of cookie crumbs and frosting, which Ume had half in her little bunny mouth. “Wow. You’re really good at this!”

“You sound surprised.” Kenshin raised an eyebrow.

“Well . . . you know . . . the whole god of war reputation and all . . .” She stuttered, feeling suddenly called out.

Kenshin grabbed her by the waist, almost pulling her into his lap. “When I have won this contest, I will take you to Kasugayama, and I will show you more of the God of War.”

Mai swallowed, her heart beating quite fast. “Um. I . . . yes. That would be great. Now if you could just let go?”

Kanetsugu

Kanetsugu wasn’t at his station when Mai stopped by to check on him, but he was easy to find. Pacing quietly at the edges of the room, making notes on each of the other warlords’ gingerbread houses.

“Ummm, Kanetsugu, what are you doing?” She caught up to him to ask her question.

“It should be obvious, fool.” When Mai still looked confused, he sighed. “I’m evaluating the competition, noting flaws and strengths.”

“Oh! That makes sense.” Mai grinned. “So you can learn from the mistakes others make.”

Kanetsugu’s quick-silver smile flickered across his lips. “I see you can think when you try.”  He tucked the notepad away and crossed his arms. “My gingerbread castle will be the best. I cannot lose.”

Mai raised an eyebrow. “You really want to win the prize, hm? But you know it’s just -”

“It is not about prizes. I cannot fail my lord.” His haughty stare had an unexpected heat to it, and just the tip of a toothy fang showed in his sharp smile. “Though the prize is not without merit.”

She felt a blush rise up her cheeks. Somehow, Kanetsugu always ended up leaving her feeling completely turned around and a bit undone.

Shingen

Mai sidled up to Shingen to get a look at his gingerbread house. It was a respectable looking cookie construction. Two stories, with gumdrop flowers on the walls and sugar-pane glass in the windows. “It’s looking really good, Shingen!”

“Is it?” He gave a mournful sigh.

She turned from the gingerbread toward him, worried. “Is something wrong?”

Shingen’s eyes were wide and damp as if he might cry. “I cannot help but feel this cookie house is missing some vital piece. And without it . . .” He sighed again, and looked away.

Mai frowned. “Missing something? Is there an ingredient I can get you? It looks like you used the gummies and frosting and red-hots. You even made sugar-glass for it. I don’t know what else you need.” 

He reached out and took her hand. “It’s missing . . . an angel. But alas, the only angel I know cannot be held by mere baked cookies.” Shingen raised her hand to his lips, and before Mai could react, placed a tender kiss to her wrist, where her pulse was now pounding rapidly. 

“Erm, I think kissing the - the judge might count as cheating, you know?”

“Then I will submit to your divine punishment, oh goddess. Shower me with your . . . wrath.” A wicked little light shone in the depths of his grey eyes and a tiny smile curled on his lips. 

Yukimura

Mai walked over to Yuki’s table, but he saw her coming and quickly covered his gingerbread house with a large sheet of paper. “Uh, hello Yukimura.”

“Go away, boar woman. I’m busy.” He frowned at her. “I don’t know why you’re walking around bothering everyone.”

“Well, I am the contest judge. And I wanted to see how you all were doing. So . . . how is it going for you?” Mai tilted her head, trying to see under the edge of the paper, but Yuki blocked her view.

“Fine.” He continued to block her view using his hands and body. “You can go now, before you trample my cookies.”

Mai poked him in the chest with her finger. “You are so rude. You know I’m going to get to see it at the end anyway, right?”

Yukimura shrugged. “Yeah, sure. But that’s at the end. It’s not done yet.”

“Oh. Well I guess that makes sense. Guess I’ll just leave you to it, then.” Mai nodded and pretended to move away as if she was done checking on him.

Once she’d turned to walk on, Yuki shifted the paper away and bent back to his task. 

Mai spun around too quickly for him to cover it again before she could see. Her lips parted with a surprised breath. The gingerbread house was small and cute, with little heart shaped windows and tiny sugar flowers. Two gingerbread people stood in front of it, hands clasped. One of them had unruly brown hair and big nut-brown eyes with a red and black kimono. And the other looked a lot like her.

Yukimura looked at her, horrified. His cheeks were red and his eyes were wide. “No! Don’t look! You didn’t see, right?” He jerked the paper back over it.

“Umm. No. Nope. I didn’t see a thing. I’ll just, uh, see you. Later.”

“Y-yeah.” Yuki breathed a sigh of relief. 

Sasuke

“Thank you for sponsoring this contest, Mai.” Sasuke glanced up as she approached. 

She smiled. “Well, I didn’t want it to be a contest. Just a chance to make something nice together, but you know how warlords are.”

“I do.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I too, am feeling the competitive spirit. I believe I have a fighting chance. My prior exposure to gingerbread cookie houses and my mathematical acuity give me a 64.325 percent chance of victory.”

Mai’s eyebrow rose. “Your . . . math?”

Sasuke nodded. “Indeed. I was able to calculate the precise geometry of each piece of my gingerbread house, even accounting for shrinkage and spread while baking. Additionally, I made use of fractal formulae to create an endless variety of snowflake designs.”

His gingerbread house stood in a swirl of tiny sugar-crystal snowflakes, held by almost invisible threads of spun sugar. And the cookie itself held delicate little patterns made in frosting.

“It’s really lovely,” Mai said, leaning closer to look at the designs. 

Sasuke gave her a conspiratorial bli-wink. “I hope you’ll still think so when it comes time to judge. I am very interested in the grand prize.”

Yoshimoto

Mai had high expectations for Yoshimoto’s gingerbread house, so she was a little surprised when she stopped by his table. The gingerbread house was simple, though elegant. The cookies looked thin, crisp, and very delicate. 

“Mai! Are you previewing the art you will be judging today?” He smiled at her warmly.

“I am. I wanted to see how everyone was doing and if anything else was needed.” She gestured to his cookies. “Are you missing anything for yours? I thought you might need extra decorations.”

Yoshimoto gave a slight shrug. “I think this is sufficient. I can’t think of any item I am missing.”

She nodded and began to step away, but stopped. “Are you sure? Because . . . it looks pretty plain. I thought you would, you know -” Mai made an expansive gesture with her hands.

He chuckled. “Ah, I see. No. I considered visual spectacle as a possibility, but this is cooking. The art of it is flavor, and the purpose is to best display the essence of a ginger - bread. So that is what I have endeavored to do.”

“Oh!” She grinned. “I should have known there was method to your madness.”

“Hopefully I have captured the flavors well enough that I will capture you as well.” Yoshimoto’s smile was teasing.

Motonari

Predictably, Motonari was crafting a gingerbread boat. Though it seemed to Mai that the boat was more a platform for cookie cannons. They lined the sides of the boat in frighteningly accurate detail. 

Motonari grinned widely as she approached. “I thought yer contest idea was more flower-headed nonsense, but turns out this is fun. I didn’t know I could bake a weapon.”

“Erm, yeah. That was . . . exactly what I had in mind too. Cookie weapons.” She sighed. “Well, at least it looks like you put a ton of effort in. The sails look really nice.” The cloth was made from thin sugar-glass, stretched on cookie poles. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “A ship has gotta have sails. But look at this,” he shoved a little cocoa ball into one of the cannons and then lit the tiny fuse at the back of the cookie. 

“Motonari, what did you just -” 

The cookie burst apart, spraying them both with crumbs and chocolate. 

Motonari laughed wildly. “Ahhh, this is gonna be good fun.” He reached over to run a finger along her cheek, wiping off a smudge of cocoa, then put his finger to his lips. “Mmmm, tastes like Oda princess. Sweet.”

Mai stepped back, feeling her cheeks heat. “Hey, no touching the judge! That counts as cheating, you know?”

“Heh, sure. But I’m a pirate. I don’t mind a bit of cheating so long as I win.” The twinkle in his garnet gaze was dangerous, equal parts madness and passion. 

Kennyo

The demon abbott wore a scowl of concentration as Mai approached. His gingerbread house looked like a forest shrine, complete with sugar and cookie trees around it. He was painting tiny details onto the door, but stopped when he noticed her watching.

“You.” He straightened and gave her a tentative smile, unpracticed but genuine.

“I was just coming by to see how you’re doing.” Mai gestured to his cookie shrine. “It looks amazing.”

“Thank you.” He glanced at it and then back at her. “I thought this would be a purposeless exercise, but I find the crafting of this gingerbread to be meditative.” 

She gave a little laugh. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it then. I wasn’t sure if you would even come - but I’m glad you did.”

Kennyo nodded. “I could not waste such an opportunity. Though Nobunaga will survive this day, I will crush him in this cookie making competition and destroy his soul. He will suffer -”

Mai patted his arm and he stopped his resonant rant with an awkward look of embarrassment. “Good luck, Kennyo,” she told him. And as she left, she could have sworn his cheeks colored a bit.

Kicho

Kicho’s gingerbread house was enormous. A veritable emperor’s palace of cookie, heavily decorated with all manner of sweets. Django stick trees beside syrup pools and fruit gelatin sculptures. Spun sugar columns and colored glass, and frosting-painted walls and murals. 

He smirked as Mai gasped in surprise at the size and detail of the thing. 

“This is amazing! You made all of this?”

“Unlike these fools, I have some knowledge of this . . . gingerbread.” He sneered. “They think they’ve planned a winning strategy, but only one of us can be the victor today.”

Mai giggled. “And that will be you?”

Kicho fixed her with a sharp stare. “I am certain of it. And when I am victorious, I will take my prize.” He surveyed her with a slow, evaluative look. When she shivered, he gave a humorless laugh. “You really shouldn’t put something on offer that you’re afraid to give.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Mai took a moment to compose herself, wanting to somehow wipe his smug smile away. “You do realize I’m the judge? Intimidating me is not a good idea.”

In one smooth movement, he swept her legs out from under her and caught her in his arms. “No? But you seem to enjoy it so much. Just look at you now. Your cheeks are on fire.”

Mai struggled out of his grasp and gave him a stern frown. “I should take points off for that.”

“But you won’t. It would make you feel bad.” Kicho smiled again, the expression lighting up his face. “I’ll see you later. Make sure to dress properly for the occasion.”

Epilogue

The dining hall was a warzone. Tables displayed the destroyed remains of gingerbread edifices. Crumbs and bits of dried frosting were scattered like shrapnel from tanegashima. The groans and sighs of the cookie-massacre survivors filled the air. 

At the head table lay one survivor, eyes closed, hand resting on a belly too full to move. She slept fitfully, her dreams a landscape of gingerbread castles and little gumdrop warlords chasing her through them. 

“Does this . . . mean . . . no one won,” Masamune gasped from his spot on the floor. 

“I believe you are correct,” Sasuke sighed. “It appears the judge has been overcome.”

Keiji gave a sad chuckle. “There are some battles no one can win.”

Kennyo made a tsk of disapproval, though he too lay in a circle of gingerbread crumbs. “Excess always leads to ruin.”

“I never thought something could be too sweet,” Ranmaru whimpered.

“We appreciated the beauty and symmetry of gingerbread flavors, and now we must pay for our hedonism.” Yoshimoto gave a breathy sigh. “Still, I would do it all again.”

“You need to reconsider, cuz,” Shingen grunted.

Yukimura exhaled slowly. “My belly hurts.”

“That’s what you all get,” Ieyasu snorted from where he lay on his side.

Mitsunari, sounding chipper even now, asked, “Oh! You are so wise, Ieyasu! You must have stopped eating before we did. And now you’re just laying there to make us feel better.”

“Shut up,” Kenshin hissed.

Kanetsugu tried to sit up. “I will silence them, my lord.”

“Was this your doing, Mitsuhide,” Hideyoshi asked.

Mitsuhide shook his head, his golden eyes closed. “I spiked just one bag of ingredients with fish flakes, but the little mouse caught me.”

“I can confirm,” Kyubei added.

“Then who,” Nobunaga and Shingen asked together, then glared at each other from across the floor. 

Only Kicho was still up, and he gave the fallen warlords a smug grin. “It seems I’ve won the day, and all you fools can rot. I know better than to stuff my face with gingerbread and frosting.” He took a step toward the sleeping chatelaine. “Now for my prize.”

But Kicho had forgotten one thing. His sometime ally Motonari still had his cookie cannons. The room exploded in another round of gingerbread crumbs and chaos.

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine Star Wars special edition: movies (III)

�� The Lake House.

Imagine this is a modern world where you are a teacher trying to get some peace of spirit after a very long year, so you rent this house whose locations places you next to no other than…Anakin Skywalker. Part I.

Warnings: fluffy; drama, long post.

Recommendations: “Champagne Problems” by Taylor Swift.

***

“I think you should rest, my dear”, so advises you the recently incorporated to the docent body Obi-Wan Kenobi, a retired academic teacher whose past—if rumours ought to be taken with careful consideration—is linked with the rise of the Sith Mafia that rules the country nowadays. He’s been your advisor ever since he was admitted at school due to common tastes, which got you very good friends. “You’ve been working too hard.”

It’s one of these days where there is no one at school—every student is gone to enjoy the winter break—but you must be there because the principal said so. Few meetings already occurred, so you honestly don’t get why you and your fellow teachers are not released off your duties.

“I cannot, and you know why.”

“You can, missy. Don’t be so headstrong. I can talk to the principal and the secretary”, says Obi-Wan. “You are exhausted. You barely have any shine behind these y/c eyes of yours.”

It does occur you that you haven’t been out with your friends since final exams started. You sigh, ceding to his insistence.

“You know me too damn well”, you grumble with a smile painting your lips.

He smiles back at you.

“I’ve been there, done that too. Hence why I’m here after all.”

You feel tempted to ask that question and perhaps Obi-Wan waits for it, but you swallow your curiosity, dismissing it as being a business not yours to mind.

“I appreciate it, Ben. But where might I go? I have no idea where else I could rest.”

You watch as Obi-Wan strokes his ginger beard, thoughtful.

“Have you considered renting a lake house?”

***

Anakin tastes the bittersweet flavor of silver bubbles of his glass, dissociating again as another feast is offered by President Palpatine. Men dressed in their fancy robes surround the older man in search for further favours all the whilst many women tried to attract the attention of his closest—and certainly younger—advisors, Anakin included.

He refuses any attention, finding champagne a more suitable company for his unresolved issue concerning his broken heart.

Jokes here and there roll from men’s lips, flirtation coloring the illusion scene he’s now in. Music is too melancholic to dissipate the attempts of the group of the mafia to amuse themselves.

Another champagne glass is offered. Anakin promptly takes.

“Lord Vader”, Lord Maul comes at him. “Are you not finding this feast of your liking?”

“I would rather be somewhere else where I am not considered fucked in the head for people who do so constantly”, so is his bitter, nearly rude but crude response.

Maul smiles awkwardly.

“I suppose even you deserve a rest, my friend. We’ve worked too hard. If you feel like resting, I shall cover your shift. Pretty sure he won’t find out”, the Sith Lord says in reference to Palpatine.

Anakin knows alcohol is taking the reins of his reasonable and, using his ex’s own words, ambitious self, therefore he shrugs his shoulders and says:

“Yeah, I might do that. Thanks, my dude.”

Again, Maul smirks uncomfortably. Grabbing another champagne, Anakin leaves discreetly, rewinding in his mind the moment he would propose Padmé.

They were both aligned in thoughts and expectations, but the night he booked a train to meet Palpatine, a choice, albeit unconscious, was made. And when they were meant to dance in celebration for his promotion, she dropped his hand and left him in silence threat.

Another sip.

But memories came. When Anakin met Padmé’s family and shared their plans. But there was a skeptical reaction, and his speech died before reaching his bride.

One more sip.

The flavor would not dismiss from his mind her words, calling him names that, funny now, he could not remember.

And suddenly in the car, Anakin yells. The driver doesn’t look nor checks at him, aware he has his moments when drinking.

Of course, he left her standing. He dropped her hand one last time, taking with him his mother’s ring.

And now he drowns in endless champagne glasses, not willing to admit the path he took was one no sensible individual would take.

***

The region suggested by Obi-Wan is one very quiet with few houses. The lake is clean, with no wild animals to scare you. Luckily for you, unwilling to interact with neighbors, it appears most of the lake house’s owners are absent: winter is hardly the season for the usual gathering in such places.

As someone who is very fond of nature and the silence that comes with it, you instantly smile and promptly write a message to Obi-Wan.

“It’s perfect. Thanks- Y/Nickname.”

You cross a small entrance that leads the way to the house. Atypically, it’s made of glass—which might mislead to an idea of exposure, but you know this is easily fixed by the use of courtins—and has two floors. It’s simple and practical, and the view to the lake is just… perfect.

You are quickly getting your stuff inside when you hear a male voice nearby:

“Do you need any assistance there?”

The voice comes to your ears in a crawling, husky whisper that makes a shiver running over your spine. As you turn with a heavy box in your hands, you spot a handsome stranger standing not too far from you, respecting the limits that divide your house from his.

He is taller than you and his eyes are painted with such charming blue irises that you are speechless for a moment. You promptly clear your throat, hoping the man doesn’t notice his presence impacted you, but judging by his smirk it appears he did notice.

“I’m all right, thank you”, you think prudent to dismiss his good will in helping you, after all you two are strangers.

Anakin sees the distrust in your body language. After the whole thing with Padmé, he’d normally stay away and never again you’d see him, but these are other circumstances. He certainly is sober anyway and is eager to be around a new face after all those years with the same old ones.

Not to mention he thinks you are too beautiful to waste an opportunity in having a glimpse of your pretty features.

“I insist”, he says gently. “I’m Anakin, by the way. Anakin Skywalker.”

Somehow his name rings a bell, but you don’t know where. You carefully stand a hand for him to take and shake.

“Anakin, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/LN.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N. What brings you here?”, he asks as he helps you with two heavy boxes that you brought to the house. “And my God, what did you put here?”

You chuckle, appreciating his help.

“Thanks, Anakin. I needed some time to rest, honestly. I came from Y/C. And these are only the things I judged necessary to bring here. I intend to spend just two weeks.”

“Hmm. Big city, of course I’ve heard about it.” He tilts his head, scanning your moves as if he’s studying you. “Running away from something, eh?”

Anakin chuckles in turn and you join him.

“Oh if you call enjoying a break running away, then it’s only momentarily, I’m afraid.”

Leaning against the wall that stands as a division between kitchen and living room, Anakin watches as you simply sit down.

“What do you work with, if I may ask?”

He observes as you make a bun with your messy y/c locks. By how you smile shyly he can tell how introverted you are.

A curious contrast to Padmé, he cannot help the comparison.

“I am a teacher. But enough about me”, you stand and head to the kitchen, aware his eyes follow you. “What about you, Anakin? What do you do for living? Do you live here, by the way? Or…”

And here, when you turn your gaze to meet his, the next words rolling out of your tongue would impact greatly in the next greetings between you two.

“…are you a fugitive like me?”

***

Each night, this stranger named Anakin Skywalker comes by. You and him share experiences and memories, all followed by a beer. A bond is starting to form, but you are somewhat bothered by this mystery aura that surrounds him.

“I sense your hunter’s eyes judging me”, Anakin smirks to himself.

You and him are sitting together before the firepit, chairs close, short distance from one to the other. His eyes are closed and yet he is very observing. You chuckle, relieved at last that he is not seeing you blushing.

“Not judging.”

“What then?”

You don’t know what to respond, so silence is your best defense. Anakin opens his eyes and stares at you, noticing you are hugging your knees, the very embodiment of innocence he’d not seen in years.

He senses what’s behind your thoughts. However, he opts to make it about you instead.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?”

You side eyes at him, with an expression he cannot read well, though there is something attractive in how the shadows of the flames dance in your face.

“I have”, you admit. “Not beautiful like the songs want to portray in melodramatic lyrics.”

“It is painful”, Anakin agrees. “Yet have you considered we may the reason why our hearts are broken in the first place?”

You ponder what he wants to mean but, not reaching to anything satisfactory, you shake your head. Not noticing how your fingers are subtly intertwined with his, your eyes are now glued in Anakin’s.

“We project what could have been in the objects of our affections. There’s so much expectation that leads us into this madhouse where we want to feel every inch of it. But shadows are, like certain philosopher pointed out, our worst doom.”

“That is deep”, you muse with no thinking. “What happened?”

“We were not ready to move forward, I suppose”, and just like that he drops your hand, much to your silent consternation.

You don’t say anything. Anakin waits for a response, but when looking again at you he knows what to read in your serene semblance. Two weeks and a little more, and an attachment has flown.

Fear leads to suffering. And hasn’t he been plagued by his own champagne problems? Yet, where has his champagne gone for the last couple of days?

“I don’t like your silence”, says Anakin, sounding more anxious than he cares to admit. “Have I disappointed you, Y/N?”

“I was merely wondering”, you flee from the question posed, “how hard can be picking up the pieces left by somebody else. But one must be ready to glue each by each.”

“You are the poet now”, he side smirks. “You sound convicted.”

“And you lack convictions, it appears”, the words come in a burst.

“Perhaps you are not entirely wrong.”

Something about his words annoy you. Quietly as usual, you make your leave and even before the fire, Anakin is left to the cold.

***

He knows where to find you. In mute steps, Anakin crosses the divisores from your house to his. You are sitting with your feet on the cold water with a cup of coffee in your hand and well dressed up.

Anakin hesitates at first. Never comfortable with crowds or awkward silences, never too friendly with his own pain, he finds in you something better that his wrecked conscience is unworthy for.

Every speech dies unspoken when you seem to stand.

I cannot let you go.

He knows you are about to return to your daily life. Your routine awaits.

“Y/N”, Anakin comes to you at long last.

You are startled by his presence, clearly not expecting his arrival.

“Ani”, you stand.

As the wind howls around you two, your remaining coffee instantly gets cold. But the warmth between you two only grows.

“I was a coward. I forgot my convictions for a moment, a wrong I intend to amend. Fear leads to anger and anger leads to suffering. We both, I dare say, have been in pain.”

He takes a moment to breathe. Your lips are already curling upon a gentle smile when he presses over them one finger.

“And before I amend, I must say I haven’t been entirely honest with you. My sweet Y/N, you don’t know my whole story. I am known as the Sith Lord, Darth Vader.”

(To be continue)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 4/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, part 5, part 6, Part 7)

Home Sweet Hogwarts

Continuing with Tom's life at Hogwarts. He learns magic, makes Horcruxes, and is still as lonely as in the orphanage but probably isn't yet as evil as Dumbledore likes to make him out to be.

This is the post where I finally explain why Tom would ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux after he already made 2 of them.

This turned out a little longer than I was expecting, but... 🤷‍♀️

Slytherin's Legacy and the Chamber of Secrets

We know Tom opened the Chamber of Secrets and we know Myrtle Warren died. But I want to ask why he opened the chamber? I mean, if he really wanted to kill muggleborns, I'd expect someone competent and intelligent like him to kill more than one.

“To ask you how you died,” said Harry. Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question. “Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said with relish. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —” Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. “I died.” “How?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Myrtle in hushed tones. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. . . .”

(Chamber of Secrets, pages 276-277)

Myrtle graciously describes her death for us. And all in all, this doesn't sound planned. Far from it. She was crying in a locked stall and went out becouse she heard a boy and wanted to tell him to leave. She saw the eyes of the basilisk the moment she left the stall.

I'd hardly call this well planned or intended. And the fact Tom doesn't kill anyone else supports this even more.

“Sit down,” said Dippet. “I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me.” “Oh,” said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly. “My dear boy,” said Dippet kindly, “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?” “No,” said Riddle at once. “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —” “You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” said Dippet curiously. “Yes, sir,” said Riddle, reddening slightly. “You are Muggle-born?” “Half-blood, sir,” said Riddle. “Muggle father, witch mother.” “And are both your parents — ?” “My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.” Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically. “The thing is, Tom,” he sighed, “special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances. . . .” “You mean all these attacks, sir?” said Riddle, and Harry’s heart leapt, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything. “Precisely,” said the headmaster. “My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy . . . the death of that poor little girl. . . . You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness. . . .”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 227)

This isn't exactly regarding Slytherin's legacy, but I found it important nonetheless for Tom's character. Tom really hates the orphanage. And for good reason, not just what I mentioned in the previous post, but WW2 started by this point.

For context, Tom opened the chamber in his fifth year, which was in 1942. 1942 was at the height of World War II. In the past two summers (1940 and 1941) Tom was in London during the Blitz. He was there in the rubble and the bomb shelters and he is quite rightfully pissed that Dippet calls that being "safe".

It's not exactly related but Dippet even asked if he was muggleborn, to tell if the monster of the chamber would go after him. Which I find curious. It is relevant for something I mention later in this post, but it generally means most of everyone assumed him to be muggleborn during his school years and treated him as such.

The point is, Tom is unsafe in the orphanage, we're now it not only ridicule and loneliness that awaited him, but starvation, death, and air raids. This helplessness against death he faced in the two years leading up to his first Horcrux was probably the final push for him to try and search for a way to be immortal.

Becouse all his magic does no good against the bombs.

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls . . . but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance . . . as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! “Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. . . . Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did. . . .”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 288)

Here I mostly want to note 2 main things.

The first, Tom mentions how the teachers saw him. Remember the act of politeness I mentioned in my previous post, this is it. Tom became so comfortable in his mask thanks to Dumbledore's lack of empathy. Brilliant, perfect, and polite.

The second is that he mentioned he searched for the Chamber for five years. As this is his fifth year, it means he searched for it during all his Hogwarts years. It means that eleven-year-old, young Tom Riddle discovered his parseltongue is related to Salazar Slytherin and he became obsessed with finding more of its legacy.

And, it's easy to see why. He knew nothing about his family besides his own name, he, like any orphan, was curious. And when he realizes how important his family, and by extension he, is he becomes obsessed with learning more.

He searched for the Chamber of Secrets not just to gain power or to kill muggleborns, he just wanted to know about his family. To feel part of a legacy. He also wanted power, he likes being powerful and being able to defend himself from those who scorn him. But even when he had the power — he didn't use it to kill anyone. Only by accident. And once the accident happened, he made use of it.

We'll keep seeing this crop up in Tom's life. He wants to be special and important. He wants to be treated like he's better, becouse that's what he always told himself. Him being special validates all the hate he got growing up and his beliefs that jealousy motivated it.

The other thing we're seeing crop up here and later is Tom's sentimentality. Dumbledore may say Tom lacks the capacity for love, but I think Dumbledore is bullshit. Tom is an incredibly sentimental person (he even calls himself out on it in GOF). There's a reason he chose the Founders Artifacts as his Horcruxrs, there's a reason he hid them all in Britain even when they could have been safer abroad — he's incredibly sentimental.

He loves Hogwarts. He loved that first place that ever felt like a home to him so much that he placed pieces of his soul in artifacts related to it, even if simpler items like a coin would've been safer and easier to hide.

Now, to further proof, it's never been about muggleborns for Tom:

“Haven’t I already told you,” said Riddle quietly, “that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been — you.” Harry stared at him

(Chamber of Secrets, page 289)

The final note from this section is about the diary Horcrux less than about Tom. But this is important because we see Tom follow that same behavior pattern later in during the second Wizarding War.

Harry tells Tom he failed to kill any muggleborns and Tom agrees with him. During the second book, the diary didn't care about muggleborns, the same as the real Voldemort, he only cared about killing Harry.

Throughout the series Voldemort is obsessed with killing Harry Potter. Less becouse of who he is and more what he represents.

Becouse young Tom searched for validation and found it in academics at Hogwarts. The teachers loved brilliant prefect Tom Riddle, so he put all his effort into that. Into being the perfect model student.

This perfectionism is seen in his obsession with Harry, too. Diary Tom is interested in Harry because he failed to kill him. Harry is his one failure on his perfect record — and that is why he must die. To rectify his failing.

I'll expand on this more in the future, but the fact this obsession with correcting his failiur named Harry Potter is true for both Voldemort and Diary Tom just strengthens this point.

Horcruxes and Immortality

Moving ahead in Tom's life, I want to talk about Horcruxes again. Honestly, I'll probably keep coming back to this becouse it's a big part of Tom's character. Specifically, I want to talk about Slughorn's conversation with Tom about them.

Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo’s goldand-black ring; he had already killed his father. “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?” he asked. “Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.” Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 369)

You know what's weird about this conversation? That a lot of fans speak of it as if that's when Tom learned how to make Horcruxes when in fact, Harry notices the Gaunt family ring and comes to the currect conclusion — Tom already killed his father.

It means this talk with Slughorn happened after Tom already made 2 Horcruxes. It means he knows how to make one and knows it's possible to make more than one. So why ask?

Why potentially implement himself in dangerous illegal magic? Why hint he might be a murderer? Why risk it all for something he already knows?

Well, let's look at that conversation:

“Sir, I wondered what you know about . . . about Horcruxes?” Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass. “Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?” But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork. “Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.” “No . . . well . . . you’d be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn. “But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I’d ask —” It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks. “Well,” said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystalized pineapple, “well, it can’t hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul.” “I don’t quite understand how that works, though, sir,” said Riddle. His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

...

“. . . few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable.” But Riddle’s hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing. “How do you split your soul?” “Well,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.” “But how do you do it?” “By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —” “Encase? But how — ?” “There is a spell, do not ask me, I don’t know!” said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. “Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?” “No, sir, of course not,” said Riddle quickly. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to offend . . .”

...

“Yes, sir,” said Riddle. “What I don’t understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn’t it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn’t seven — ?” “Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped Slughorn. “Seven! Isn’t it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case . . . bad enough to divide the soul . . . but to rip it into seven pieces . . .” Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all. “Of course,” he muttered, “this is all hypothetical, what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic . . .” “Yes, sir, of course,” said Riddle quickly.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 496-499)

So, let's recap this conversation:

Tom asks about Horcruxes and gets excited when Slughorn seems to know about them, the moment Slughorn starts speaking of how vile and evil Horcruxes are though, Tom changes his demeanor, more apologetic, hesitant, and polite. The mask is back. Tom continued and prodded a bit further, but not with the same hunger and excitement as before.

So, what does that tell us? Why is Tom having this conversation? What does he stand to gain? Not new information obviously...

In my former post, I mentioned Tom is looking for connections as he never really had any.

He's excited at the possibility of talking about magic he is interested in with someone, specifically — a teacher. Tom, who was scorned all his life in the Orphanage gets to Hogwarts and the teachers love him because he's polite and brilliant. And he loves all that positive attention. He boasts about it to Harry in the Chamber in an earlier quote I mentioned.

This is him seeking that attention and validation again, from Slughin, a person who praised his magical academic accomplishments often before. Tom is trying to open up and connect with Slughorn over another magical accomplishment.

But Slughorn shuts him down, and so he retreats from the conversation. Making it seem like he doesn't know how Horcruxes are made so as to not raise suspicions after he saw Slughorn didn't really know much about Horcruxes.

This scene isn't a future Dark Lord trying to learn how to become immortal — this is a sixteen-year-old boy, who was only ever recognized for academic magical accomplishment trying to gain praise for figuring out the impossible — how to become immortal. That's what he built up to, he mentioned the number so he could tell Slughorn how he figured out you could make more, how he went farther in magic than anyone else.

On the same note...

Tom doesn't really mention friends often, and I want to talk about that a bit about why he is so desperate for connection.

Think about it, he came poor, an orphan, and seemingly a muggleborn into Slytherin, the house of blood purism, during the height of Grindelwald's blood purity war against muggles. I can imagine the first few years until he proved he was the heir of Slytherin and incredibly magically powerful were not pleasant to him, and that's an understatement.

So afterward, when he does interact positively with his housemates, yes, he calls them friends, but it isn't friendship.

It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course

(Chamber of Secrets, page 290)

“Listen to me, reliving family history . . .” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, page 646)

“My friends,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “will carry on without me, I am sure.” “I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” said Dumbledore. “I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 444)

He refers to his followers as friends and family repeatedly, even after graduating from Hogwarts. Now, I don't think Tom actually considers them real friends or family, but he never really had either, not in any deep sense.

I'll delve more in a later post about how he does feel affection and does have some bounds he cares more for (like Bellatrix, whom he does care for), but none of them is an example of a healthy meaningful relationship. So no wonder a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle is so desperate for connection that he almost implicates himself in murder — because he never had any real meaningful connection.