#Their message has been sitting there in my inbox for a few good hours or so and I’ve just been. Sitting here. Makes me nervous when people

[fi3stazo]

there’s someone I had a brief conversation with in the comments of a post on my daily Panchito account and they. They sent me a simple “hola” and I’m really nervous this is not very Panchito of me

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[sinfullyrosey]

Pushing Your Buttons

Lilia Vanrouge X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Oral, Semi-Public, Misuse of Magic

Got like three people in my inbox asking for more General Lilia, but I don’t do requests and this fic has been sitting unfinished for months now. So, no general fae, but current papa bat using phantom magic to mess with his favorite little, magicless human.~

I just realized I have written a male reader, gn reader, and now fem reader for this old fart. The triangle of smut is complete.

Also, I apologize in advance for my terrible text speech skills. I personally don’t type like that normally and struggle to do so for fic purposes.

You were slowly going insane. Absolutely bonkers. Throw you in a padded cell and lock away the key levels of mad. Couldn’t even concentrate on the simple tasks given to you by that aggravating crow without your mind immediately buzzing from the searing hot sensation between your nether regions.

Simply ignoring it had become impossible by this point. It has been nearly an hour now since it all started and nearly an hour have you suffered at the hands of that old bat. Running all over campus, delivering papers and whatnot, all the while your pussy is being played with like some handheld controller!

Another whine slipped past your clenched teeth once more as a particular spike of pleasure shot through you and made your stomach twist even tighter. You faltered, almost tripping on nothing along the pathway, and decided to stop and steady yourself as those fingers worked at your wet folds.

You heaved a shaky sigh and began to rummage through your school bag for your phone. Pulling it out, your knees buckling when you felt yourself growing wetter, the feeling of something dripping causing you to panic. So far you had been good to keep yourself together and, surprisingly, the fingers had been rather merciful, only occasionally grazing along your slit or palming at your mounds for only a few seconds.

But now they had just gotten bolder and more persistent, lingering longer against your folds, spreading your lips and pressing around your entrance. Sharpened nails playfully raking along your thighs or pinching your skin. At one point they even groped at the spot where your thighs and butt cheeks meet and suddenly squeezed them, making you yelp and startle the hallway full of confused students.

Thankfully, you were in a more secluded place on campus right now, free from the leering eyes of male students as they watched you slowly fall apart.

With trembling hands, you tapped on your messaging app to type up a response to the culprit behind your cruel torment.

‘Lilia plz knock it off’

You waited patiently for a reply. With some relief, you felt the hands temporarily release themselves from you, presumably to type a response back. A break that was short lived, however, as the moment your phone dinged from the incoming reply, you once again felt the hands begin to rub at you. This time, much rougher, and with purpose.

‘Now, why ever would I do that little one? The fun part has just begun.~’

As soon as you finished reading his text, you suddenly let out a pitched moan when you felt his thumb gently press down on your previously neglected clit. Your walls tightened as he rolled the sensitive nub in circles, fingers spreading your pussy open to play with the folds as your whole body shook.

You could definitely feel yourself dripping now, clear slick running down your thighs and soaking the top part of your thigh highs socks. You clutched the helm of your skirt, trying to pull it down and cover more of your front in embarrassment. You were really hating that he had removed your panties earlier on when he first started to tease you. Being so exposed an unable to keep from soaking yourself in your own mess was making everything so much worse.

You typed frantically the best you could while trying to ignore the sensation of his skilled fingers

‘U and ur stupid magic fantom hand thingys are drivin me crazy!!1’

You could only muffle your squeals and moans the best you could, looking around to make sure you were still alone as you stumbled over to somewhere with a bit more privacy. With the insistent prodding and palming of your pussy, you could only find a bench to sit down on to prevent yourself from falling and hurting yourself.

‘Oh, I just love to push your buttons dear! And this little one of yours is my absolute favorite to push and play with! So small. So cute. Just like you!~’

You let out a needy whine as he playfully pinched the puffy bud between his fingers, gently tweaking it and making your body tense up from the delicious sensation.

‘And it elicits such adorable sounds from you too.~’

Your legs trembled and shook as you spread them out more, giving him better access to your needy hole that was just dripping in anticipation for him. Two of his fingers easily slipped past your entrance, pumping themselves inside you at a leisurely pace. Waves of euphoria were crashing down onto you as your vision grew hazy from the pleasure.

The wooden bench was stained from your juices as you continued to leak from where you sat. you clutched onto the bench ends the more that coil twisted and tightened under his ministries. You were panting and moaning as his fingers found that special, spongey spot in you and began to abuse it with each pump.

All your previous responsibilities were long forgotten as Lilia fingered you with his magickly-produced phantom hands. His thumb still pressing and circling your overly sensitive clit as he worked you towards an orgasm.

Your toes were curling in your shoes, head thrown back as you felt yourself slowly approach your much anticipated release. Your body was impatiently bouncing slightly in the seat, moving to meet his own thrusts and pounding harder into your G spot. Your eyes closed tightly, vision blurring, and breath quickening when you felt yourself on the edge of pure euphoria.

And all at once, it suddenly stopped.

The phantom hands ceased their movements, slipping out of your warm hole, leaving your walls to clench along nothing. The coil was left to relax and simmer down, but still tight from the brink of release that was stolen from it. You blinked blurrily, vision still spotty as your head came to the conclusion of what just happened. Your pussy fluttering and still leaking, but empty and unsatisfied.

“Wah-?!” You slurred.

You quickly looked down, lifting up your skirt to see that the hands had completely disappeared. Your stomach dropped, panic rising as you stumbled to reach for your phone that you had tossed aside when you first sat down. Your eyes scanned to see if he had left anymore texts or if he was in the process of typing, only to see it completely silent. Your fingers quickly tapped away in desperation as anger flared within you at this cheeky old bastard.

‘Lilia wat the fuck?!1!’

You seethed as you saw the bubble with three little dots appear, indicating he was typing and very much still around, hands available, yet not putting them to good use. Like giving you that much deserved orgasm!

‘Oh my, just a few minutes ago you were telling me to “knock it off” and leave you be?’

‘Lilia Im literally going to explode’

You could just hear him chuckling at your response from wherever he was right now. You let out a huff, rubbing your thighs together to get some sort of relief, but to no avail, so you gave up. You were just about ready to call him to give him a piece of your mind when another text popped into chat.

‘Best be on your way and finish your errands. Don’t want to keep you waiting any longer now, dear.’

To end off his text and further punctuate his point, he used the phantom hand again to promptly flick your reddened clit, sharp nail scraping against it and sending a sudden shock wave of pleasure bolting to your core and causing you to double over. Your cunt clenched around nothing and you let out a desperate keen.

You glared angrily at his text, a few tears building up from frustration as you aggressively tapped away on your phone. You may be too pissed to call this irritating fae to yell his ear off, but you weren’t angry enough not to send him a few choice words.

‘plz plz plz PLEASE just let me cum already Vanrouge!!1 im horny im stressed and im about ready to make my way to diasomnia and whoop ur old creaky ass you fae fuck!1!!’

You continued to glare at your phone screen, waiting for your annoyingly charming fae lover to respond to your rather childish, but justified outburst via text.

‘Alright, if you insist.~’

Success.

You grin in victory, spreading your legs in anticipation of his hands lavishing you once more and finally rewarding you with the well-deserved orgasm. You felt the phantom hands on your thighs once more, spreading you further.

And then you felt the sensation of something warm and wet slowly lapping over your slit, spreading your folds and grazing over your sensitive clit. You let out a loud gasp, body tensing at the realization of what he was doing.

Your eyes widened as his phantom tongue began its torturous pattern of slowly lapping along your folds, before reaching your clit and sucking on it briefly, then starting all over again. You could feel your juices leaking out of you once more with each suck and lick, your phone dinging with incoming texts.

‘You taste absolutely divine, my dear. Still just as sweet and juicy as last time.~’

He made a point to dip his tip into your clenching cunt, lapping up your slick, then sucking up your release messily. You let out soft moans as your body convulsed under his touch.

‘In fact, I think I’ll enjoy this meal for a little while.~’

It was the sharp sensation of a pair of fangs gently nibbling on your poor clit that finally had you losing your mind as your moans grew louder and body helplessly approaching your orgasm once more. But every time you reached that edge, he would slow down or stop briefly until you settled down once more.

‘After all, you never clarified when to make you cum.~’

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Ok idk if this is to much but can I request Juice Ortiz with Line 24, and then L and M (🔥🔥)? Thank you!!

Tension.

juice ortiz x teller!female reader

warnings - sexual content. cursing.

24. “You like it when I’m mean to you?” & l. Keeping the relationship a secret & m. Catching eyes across a crowded room.

written for my 5k celebration - post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

It’s risky and you know it.

But you just can’t keep your eyes off of Juice Ortiz.

It’s your average Friday night at the Teller Morrow Garage. Everyone’s drinking, smoking, laughing as Tig tells a horribly inappropriate joke. Your brother is sitting at a table with Chibs and Happy, discussing some sort of club business that you frankly don’t really care about.

You turn back to the bar, sipping on your drink and taking a deep breath. You spin on your stool to scan the room again, and catch eyes with the one man you’ve been watching like a hawk. Juice.

He raises his eyebrows at you, winking cheekily before breaking out into a grin. You shake your head, but can’t help but smile.

He looks good. Better than usual. You’re not sure what it is - maybe it’s the tight black t shirt, maybe it’s the tattoos that are peeking through, maybe it’s the cocky smirk that seems to be permanently etched on his face.

You know the both of you will be in so much trouble if your brother finds out. It’ll be bad for club dynamics, bad for your family’s dynamic. But maybe it’s the risk that makes it that much hotter.

He looks at you, the bathroom door, then back at you. You get the message instantly, nodding gently before watching him get up and make his way in that direction.

You give it a few agonisingly long minutes before you slip off your stool, glancing around to check no one has noticed. When you get to the bathroom, he opens the door and pulls you inside, slamming you against the wood.

“Here she is. My pretty whore.”

Your breath catches, gazing at him with blown pupils.

“Don’t call me that,” you choke out, with less conviction than you would have liked.

“Why not, hmm? You’ve been staring at me with your fuck me eyes for the last couple of hours. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

He chuckles, leaning in to nip at your neck, arms winding around your back to hold you against him.

“You’re pathetic, baby,” he mumbles against your skin. When you shudder, he laughs almost cruelly. “Oh, honey. You like it when I’m mean to you?”

You shake your head, and he moves a hand to wind around your throat, squeezing gently. You change your answer and nod, knees going weak.

“Here’s the deal,” he drawls into your ear, all low and honeyed. “If you can keep your filthy thoughts off your face for the rest of the night, I’ll take you home later and fuck you the way you want.”

You whine, hands tangling into the back of his shirt.

“That means no fuck me eyes, no lip biting… none of that shit. You hear me?”

You nod, leaning forward to rest your head on his chest.

“You’re gonna get us caught, baby. We’ve got to be more careful.”

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke.

“Okay. Deal.”

He smiles at you gently before kissing you again.

“I’m gonna go out first. Wait a while, okay?”

He slips out the door and back to the guys, praying that no one has noticed either of your absences.

You rest your head against the wood and take a deep breath, body thrumming with the anticipation of what’s to come.

[wolffwish]

More Than Just A Short Time

Warnings: Distressed reader, miscarriage, mentions of anxiety, panic attack, soft!Toto x reader,

A/N: Personal experience used here, so please be understanding. 2022 was the worst year of my life, losing a baby and my fiancé within 3 months of eachother. I’ve been wanting to write something for months, to try and help me cope with my emotions. This hasn’t been spell checked, I literally have finished it and pressed post. So please bear with me if there’s any mistakes or it’s not that great, or sonically cohesive. It’s literally a coping mechanism. I’ve also tried to incorporate Taylor Swift’s “Bigger Than The Whole Sky” as that song has bought me a lot of comfort. Thank you so much for reading and I hope soft Toto brings you comfort if you need it ♥️ my inbox is open to anyone if you need to talk about anything.

It’s been a long 5 days without Toto, and your physical health was declining by the hour. Your period was the heaviest it had ever been, but you didn’t want to tell Toto, because everyone has periods and usually, they’re nothing to worry about.

Toto knew you were struggling physically, and had been the ever-supporting husband that you could’ve dreamed of. Virtually working instead of heading into the office, skipping races and rescheduling meetings or holding them online— to the point where he’d be sitting on the bed with his laptop perched on his lap on Zoom with people at Brackley, with you sleeping next to him and him not taking his hand off of your head once, constantly stroking it to ease your pain.

He was away in Bahrain for first race of the season and it was the longest amount of time he’d been for a few months. You hadn’t been feeling that great in the lead up to him leaving, a bit run down and not your usual self, extremely tired and incredibly nauseous. You just assumed it was your birth control playing up again.

It was Sunday. Race day. You were feeling rough, and after yesterday’s ordeal in the ER followed by a strict instruction for bed rest and preferably someone with you, all you wanted to do was curl up on the couch, watch the race and wait for your man to come home.

You hadn’t been contacting him much over the past 4 days, mainly just good morning and good night texts, as you knew he was going to be flat out busy with media, meetings and all the other stuff that goes with the job he’d worked so hard for.

11am. You heard your phone ping, with his specific text tone and notification lighting up your screen.

💬 1 New Message: Toto🐺♥️ — Liebling, I have a free half hour. Can you talk? We need to talk.

“We need to talk”? You read it three times, making sure you were reading it right. Need? Panic sets in. Usually, when anybody receives a message of “We need to talk.”, ending abruptly with a full stop, that’s never a good sign, right? Right.

Before you could even start typing, he was ringing. Accidentally, you pressed the green answer button, steadily putting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” - your voice broke as you awaited his response.

🐺 “Schatzi? Is that you?”

“What do you mean, is it me? You rang my mobile?”

🐺 “Oh. Thank god. I had a missed call from the hospital, they left a message asking me how you were after yesterday. I didn’t— what happened yesterday, I didn’t know you wen—“

“Oh my god, are you kidding?! They rang you?”

Anger that started in your stomach was slowly making its way up your body, flushing your red cheeks and making your hands grip the phone tighter. You were checked into the ER yesterday after having what you thought was a 3 day long, heavy and extremely painful period. You had to call the ambulance because you were bleeding so heavily you couldn’t control anything, and started to feel dizzy and weak. With nobody around, and Toto working, you had nobody to call.

🐺 “Come on baby, talk to me. Why did you visit the ER?”

You paused. You didn’t know what to say to him, but neither did you want to lie. You knew as soon as the ER nurse asked if you’d had any morning sickness or previous experiences of dark red heavy periods that this wasn’t just a period. You were having a miscarriage, not even knowing you were pregnant.

🐺 “Liebling? Whatever it is, you can tell me. It doesn’t matter that I’m here, ok? You are my priority, just let me in.”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, Toto. I’m sorry. Just concentrate on the race, and I’ll see you later. I love y—“

🐺 “No Schatzi, baby please, I can’t concentrate unless you tell me what’s going on.”

You knew that he wasn’t going to give in. Tears started filling your eyes and the pit of your stomach started knotting. Emotions got the better of you, your breathing started to get shorter and faster, even though you were trying to disguise every bit of it, so you didn’t make him panic even more. But you just couldn’t do it. You fell apart. You needed him, now more than ever.

“I’m sorry, Toto. I didn’t know. You know I’m on birth control, it was just a heavy period, and then the nurses started asking all these questions about morning sickness and the colour of it and they rigged me up to the machine and started doing all these scans and I was really scared and I didn’t know what to do and then they kept apologising to me and I was in such a state I didn’t know what they were talking about until they— until they said it wasn’t a heavy period, and I’d lost—“

That was it. Uncontrollable tears streamed from your eyes as you relived the worst day of your life all over again, for the millionth time. Hysteria creeping in and your adrenaline winning, you began to shake. You’d been reliving every second of it since you got home, and it took a lot of persuasion for you to the nurses to let you home on your own. But they all knew your situation, they all knew Toto and who he was, so they made an exception. You didn’t think they’d call him.

🐺 “Oh my go—, baby, I’m so sorry. Shit. I should’ve been there, I knew you weren’t right when I left, but I had no idea it could be this—“

“Don’t apologise Toto please, it’s not your fault, I just, I can’t wait to see you later. Please try and just do the race and I’ll be here when you get home.”

🐺 “I don’t care about the race Schatz, baby. I’m coming home now. I’m walking to Rosa right now, she’ll get me on the next flight darling. Hold tight for me, ok?”

You didn’t want to ruin his day like this, especially the first race, but you were done fighting with yourself.

“Ok.” - through tears streaming and sniffles of your nose to try and control your breathing, a simple ‘ok’ was the last thing you said to Toto before dropping the phone on the bed. You’d almost been in denial about the whole thing, and saying it all out loud made it more real. You pulled your legs to your chest, your body still screaming in pain from miscarrying, back pains so intense you feel like your spine is on fire and a headache strong enough to make you squint at any view of light.

You could hear the television in the background, the race build up had started and you began watching it hoping it would distract you from everything that was happening in your head at that very moment.

The grid walk started, and Martin Brundle was desperately searching around for Toto to ask him where he thinks the two Mercs’ we’re going to finish today’s race. He eventually came across Shov, who was ready for an interview.

MB: “I was hoping to talk to your boss, any idea where I can find him?”

AS: “He’s had to rush off, personal matter, so won’t be able to watch the race today, but I can answer any questions you may have - just not with as much Austrian flare as he does!” he tried to laugh and distract from the situation- but you knew social media was about to blow up.

A few hours passed, and the sheer emotional state you were in made you fall asleep at some point during the race. You woke up as the podium ceremony started, that damn Dutch national anthem again. You flicked over the channels and started watching some random nature show about birds. Anything but that damn podium.

Anxiously waiting for Toto to arrive, you kept drifting off to sleep, losing track of the time, until you heard a key in the door and footsteps running up the stairs.

“Schatzi, where are you baby? I’m ho—“

The bedroom door swung open and there he was, still dressed in his white button down shirt and black trousers, so damn handsome. Your man was home.

“Toto, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tears streaming, you sat up on the bed, trying to adjust your body to a position you weren’t in pain.

“Baby, it’s okay. Come here, little one.” Toto softly sat down in front of you, cupping your face in both hands and softly brushing the tears on your cheeks away with the pad of his thumbs. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” He brought his lips up to your forehead, pressing the most gentle kiss just above your left eyebrow, muffling the words “Let go baby, I’m here now. Just let it all out.”

The reassuring words from Toto meant every single emotion waved over you like a tsunami, and you fell apart in his arms. The tears came streaming down your face as you leant forward into him. You adjusted your body so you were sitting side aways on his lap, legs resting on the bed and head resting in his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you like he was protecting the world, his gentle touches making you feel safer than you’d ever felt.

“Let’s get you into bed properly, baby, get you more comfortable.” Without hesitation, Toto stood up with you in his arms as he gently walked around the bed, making sure not to walk into any furniture or make any sudden movements. He slowly leant down, to lay you on his side of the bed. He grabbed a blanket, took his shirt and trousers off, walked round to the other side of the bed and got in with you.

“Are you comfortable? Do you need to move?” He asked as you started rolling over as he got into the bed beside you.

“I can’t get comfy, it’s so frustrating, everything hurts and I can’t move without feeling like I’m making a mess everywhere, it’s horrible.”

“Hey hey baby, it’s okay, don’t cry. It doesn’t matter if there’s mess, we can clean it up, okay? Come here, lay here.” He perched himself up on the headboard, his bare chest gleaming in the night light that was the only light on in the room. The smell of him just felt like home. Lightly tapping his torso, he helped you lay your head on his chest, right on his heart. You moved your arm over his toned tummy, slightly tapping your fingers over the grooves of his muscles.

“There we go baby, you just lay there and relax now. It’s okay, I’ve got you my girl.”

A few minutes of silence passed as Toto gently run his fingers through your hair, up and down your back and over your shoulder.

“Toto?”

“Yes, baby? What is it?”

“We’re never gonna meet her.”

You didn’t know if it was a girl or a boy, but your initial thought was it was a girl. You don’t know why. It’d been playing on your mind all day whenever you caught yourself thinking about what would’ve been, what could’ve been and what should’ve been.

A deep breath came from the pits of his stomach as he saw your heart break in front of him.

“I know darling, I know. But look…” he pointed out towards the night sky, a sky full of stars. A sky so beautiful, that you would’ve thought you’d made it up.

“She’s up there. She knows you’re looking at her. Hey, she’s that really bright one, look” he points to a specific star, that is, quite literally, the brightest one in the sky. “She’s bigger than the whole sky, isn’t she?” he looks down at you, as you’d cocked your head to see the star he was talking about. Making eye contact, one side of his mouth turned into a slight smile, as he leant down to kiss you on the lips. “I love you, little one.”

You kissed him back, finally feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders now he was home.

“I love you too, Papi.”

He smiled down at you again, bringing his hand up to the side of your face and gently guiding your head to lay on his chest. You heard him snuffle, and felt a teardrop on hairline where your hair meets your forehead.

“Toto?” You looked up at him, tears in his eyes as he looked out of the window.

He responded immediately. “It’s okay, baby. I’m okay, I’m just so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry for not telling you when it happened. I just didn’t want to pull you away from work and—“

“Baby listen to me. You are my world, ok? Nothing is more important than you. I would sail the seven oceans to be with you in a heartbeat. Don’t ever think anything is more important than you, Schatz. I love you so much it hurts.”

He looked down at you again, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair. “You can rest now, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

You closed your eyes and felt your entire body relax into the indentation of his body, and sunk into the bed with him. The soft strokes of his hands over your arms, hair and back brought you more comfort than you’d ever felt before, and the sound of his slow controlled breathing meant your breathing started syncing with his. You both drifted off to sleep, holding each other close. His arms wrapped around you, you laying on his chest.

This was home. He was home. He is your home.

——

[megumishousewife]

Megumi x Chubby! Streamer Part 2

A/N: I'm so sorry I kept yall waiting for part two, college life was kicking my butt but (double butt) please enjoy bae🫶🏽

It wasn’t even a full 24 hours and you were trending on Twitter overnight. You saw that you had gained at least half a million subscribers on all of your platforms, not to mention how you were tagged in many videos about Megumi. Ignoring your growing fame, you opened your Twitter page and saw the poll that you had uploaded last night to see that over 95% of voters wanted you to meet your favorite streamer. You were shocked by how many people were so engrossed with your little crush that it caused you to laugh.

“Wow, it’s 10 AM and Twitter is losing their mind,” You mumbled to yourself.

You knew that you were not exactly ready to meet Megs in person because you already know with no established meeting of any kind is just bound to cause an awkward interaction. You thought about another solution while you handled the business portion of your day, responding to emails and accepting sponsors. While answering after answering an email from an Indie horror game creator, you stumbled upon a message in your inbox that you were not expecting. The sender read Megumi Fushiguro with the subject topic being “possible collab?”. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. The feeling of the world closing in on you was prevalent in this moment. Your YouTube crush….WANTS TO COLLAB?! You took the time to thank your fans in your head as you read the email, trying to contain your need to burst into tears of joy. The email reads:

Dear Y/N,

I’m pleased to see that our fans are interested in us growing a bond with each other. I, as well, was interested in you and your content so I wanted to ask if you were interested if you would like to do a video together. Let me know your answer and please follow up with ideas. Thank you for your time!

Sincerely,

Megumi Fushiguro

You tried your hardest to not squeal in excitement. You read the entire email all over again, just imagining it in his voice and you gushed about how cute he would probably sound trying to be serious. You took a moment to respond, gather your thoughts and try to be as professional as possible.

Dear Mr. Fushiguro,

Sorry for being so formal, but I would love to do a collab with you! I’m sorry for the social media uproar, I bet you're not used to THIS kind of attention. I would like to play “It Takes Two” since it’s more of a duo game anyways. If you could tell me a day that is good with you, I can clear my schedule. Thanks!

Sincerely,

Y/N

You flopped on your bed and kicked your feet giddily for a split second. You looked at your clock and decided to do an early morning stream to thank your audience and tell them your surprise (you couldn’t wait because you would have tweeted that you're doing a video with your crush). Getting back into influencer mode, you started setting up your lighting for your stream as the intermission screen was on for your viewers so they couldn’t see you and your nervous jitters. Sitting down, you took a quick breather before clicking your fans over to see your facecam.

“Hi guys! There’s about 5,000 of you guys here. I know I just saw you guys yesterday but I missed you all! Welcome back, welcome back. As you can tell by the title of this stream, I have a special announcement for all of you! Let’s allow a few more people to come in and I will make my announcement.

While you and your fans waited, you said hello to a few people, some asked you how your morning has been so far. Others asked about your Youtube content and you replied holding a finger over your lips, smiling. After ten minutes of friendly chatting, you decided to drop the bomb.

You began, “Before I tell you my announcement, I just wanted to thank you guys for even making this possible. For all your hashtags and tweets to bring attention to little ole me, I thank you all. Sooo, yo get to the point for you guys… I am currently working on collabing with Megs and I can’t wait to start filming for it!”

You saw your chat blow up with “Let’s go” or “you finna get your manz” and all you could do was giggle at how supportive your fans were.

“Guys, relax. All we are doing is playing a game and no, you won’t find out until I release the video.”

You got an email notification and saw that it was from Megumi and it said: “Open it on stream ;)”. Your mouth dropped open and you looked at your webcam.

“Megs wants you guys to see his recent email.”

Your chat was going crazy, asking if you read it yet or just straight up telling you to read it.

“No, I have not read the email yet. We can all read it together.”

You shared your screen with your chat and began reading the email to them. It reads:

Y/N, I’m pleased to work and get closer to you in the future. When you’re done with your stream, send me an email with your number so I can call you.

~Megs

All you could do was scream in the mic while your fans spammed W’s in the chat, probably having the same reaction as you.

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

Nobara smiled hard at the screen watching your priceless reaction.

She said, “My god, Yuji, I think you made this girl lose her mind over Megumi. Gosh, she’s so cute.”

Behind her, Megumi had Yuji in a chokehold while Yuji tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look, Megumi,” Yuji said, “She’s happy about the email and you’re overreacting! Don’t get mad at me because I tried to add a little rizz to your emails.”

Megumi released Yuji, “ I was trying to be professional and you-”. Megumi’s face was turned by Yuji, forcing him to continue to look at your blushing face on stream as you spoke highly about him with a smile on your face, admiring your chubby face radiating on his big screen. He slapped Yuji’s hands away and walked towards his kitchen, blushing.

Nobara high-fived Yuji and whispered, “Good job, Cupid!”

-

-

-

taglist!: @definitely-notalissa (as promised babes🤞🏽)

[yesterdayandtodayy]

An If I Needed Someone Excerpt From a New Scene I've Been Writing in my Rewrite Process, To Celebrate Almost Finishing Revisions on the Fic

“Knoxious, did you know that Cameron supports child labor?” Charlie asks as a form of greeting when Knox approaches the small corner table his friends have taken over on the second floor of the Barnard Library, an almost gleeful expression on his face as he stares up at Knox.

Much to Knox’s confusion, the question sends his friends into peels of laughter, all while Cameron’s face begins to turn an unflattering red from where he is sitting at the end of the table.

“Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell you guys, we don’t actually support child labor.”

Knox’s eyebrows scrunch closer together in confusion as he collapses into the open seat.

“I’m sorry, I know I’ve been stuck in the archives the last few hours doing research on my junior seminar paper, but what?” Belatedly, Knox registers the rest of what Cameron said. “And who the hell is we?”

Pitts lets out a loud snicker.

“Check your school email.”

Immediately, Knox takes out his phone from his back pocket and loads up his Gmail app. He scrolls through a few emails from students asking for him to proofread their first essay of the semester and a couple reminder emails about upcoming assignments for his own classes. Then, he comes across it. 

Admittedly, Knox probably would not have noticed the email in the slew of other emails in his Inbox, but once he opens it, he has to try his hardest not to start laughing.

It’s from an economics professor who is the club adviser for Columbia’s Economics Book Club, the same one Cameron runs that he has been trying and failing to get all of their friends to join since freshman year. 

It’s a recruitment email, but instead of starting off with some message about how the club is looking for new members excited to talk and learn about economics and public policy issues, the email starts with:

Is Child labor bad? Should we sell our organs?

Knox finds himself grinning as he sets down the phone, fixing Cameron with an exasperated look.

“Oh, Cameron. That- that is not a good look.”

A little giggle slips past Todd’s lips at the expression on Knox’s face, which is enough to send the rest of their friends into another laughing fit.

Cameron’s jaw drops indignantly.

“It’s supposed to be a hook!” he hollers helplessly, his verbal attempts at fighting for his life being drowned out.  

“Yeah, a hook that promotes child labor.” Charlie scoffs.

“You know, I think it is fitting to have that hook in there for the Economics Book Club,” Knox says when their laughter dies down, trying his hardest to keep a neutral face as all his friends turn their attention towards him, but especially when seeing the hopeful look coming across Cameron’s face. “Our unemployment rate in the US is horrible right now, and what can I say, the children yearn for the mines.” 

The reference to the online meme makes Pitts choke on his sip of water.

“The children yearn for the- Knox, what the hell!” Cameron hollers, and just like that, the table falls into chaos again.

[f1stargirll]

Conversation Friends ° Lando Norris

Chapter Two

Word count : 1.658k

Description : slow burn, college!au (enemies to lovers) and more to come

Hey guys, sorry this chapter came out a week late, I was suffocating from homework. But here we are! And I'm currently on a week break from uni so I'll try to write as much as possible during this time, I have sooo many ideas. I think I'll even try writing oneshots so if anyone has requests I'm open to them! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter, and feel free to message me if you want to be tagged in the next parts 🧚🏼‍♀️

PSA : Since I’m STUPID, I’ve started writing on a side blog which means there’s a lot of things I can’t do!! So I’m switching to my main blog which is @f1stargurl !!! The next parts and the rest will be posted on there, so if anyone follows me here, if you could pls follow me on @f1stargurl 🤧 To quote mister Leclerc once ai gain, “I am stupid”

Hi Lando,

I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sure that stupid encounter at the supermarket was just a result of the both of us being irritated and tired. As you can probably tell, my first few days here weren’t so easy and it might’ve been one of the reasons why I was so unpleasant, and once again, I apologize. 

I really am willing to put this stupid history behind us and get this program started!

I hope you’ll give it a thought and I look forward to hearing from you soon, have a good week! 

Sincerely, y/n

It’s been six days since I’ve sent Lando that email and pushed my pride to the side to organize a date. Well, it’s not a date, but still- I guess it is technically a date? Is it a date if we hate each other? It’s a meeting. Yeah, I was trying to organize a meeting. 

Still no response. 

Closing my laptop, I decided to take my mind off this situation and take a break at a coffee shop near campus. 

Taking a step inside the coffee shop I spot Daniel and Alex sipping on their drinks. Seeing Daniel again instantly put a smile on my face, we’ve been hanging out these last few days and having him by my side feels great. 

“What’s up guys!” I say while waving at them across the room. 

“Hey y/n!” They both got up from their seats to give me a hug.

 “Go get your drink and come join us,” Alex invited me, pointing at their booth, “we were talking about the party this weekend.”

“Don’t mind if I do then”, I respond smiling from ear to ear. 

After picking up my hot chocolate I sit down in front of them, Daniel makes fun of me for not liking coffee, again.

“I swear y/n you’re 21 and you still don’t like coffe? You need to grow up,’ rolling my eyes, I playfully shove Dani’s shoulder feeling his muscle tense under the light punch, so annoying, and buff, wow. We kept talking for more than two hours. I got to tell them all about Lando ghosting me and about the amazing cheese and garlic pasta I made last night. 

“I think he’ll come to his senses. He has to,” Daniel insists, crossing his arms in front of him. Ooh, veiny forearms… “the reason you guys hate each other is so ridiculous anyway, over freaking pasta!” he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I think you did the right thing trying to reach out, at least you’ll be the bigger person” Alex says, his hand reaching for his matcha latte, “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure this out together.”

“Thanks for the optimism I really appreciate it” I say with a weak smile, not really believing in Linguini’s philanthropist potential, “I just hope this won’t ruin the program for me…”

“What? No way!” Daniel exclaims sitting up on his side of the booth, “Look, you’ve got your Conversation Friends right here” he says putting his arm around Alex’s shoulder who’s nodding and smiling in agreement, “and you’ve got Lola!”

“You’re right Dani, I’m not gonna give myself anxiety over a guy who can’t even be polite,” I state with confidence, “anyways, I’m so excited about the party this weekend!”

Once back in my room, I decided to check my inbox one more time. Just in case.

Still no response. 

The sight tugs at my heart a little. We have our first mandatory meeting in a few days and I still have no contact with my partner. I wouldn’t care so much about it if it was just about the two of us, but the whole group is supposed to visit a museum and I don’t want to be the only one there without a partner, that would be too embarrassing. 

But as I reminisce on the topic, I realize I’m not just sad anymore, I’m bitter. All week I saw everyone meeting up and doing fun activities with their partners, but I can’t get an email back? Even a “k” would’ve been enough… I’m stunned at how childish this boy is being. 

Putting my phone on my wooden nightstand, I close my eyes and try not to overthink about the situation. Is it my personality? Maybe it’s because of the way I look.

But I catch myself slipping, the last thing I need to do is to start doubting myself because of a man again.

God, this British Society class is really kicking my ass right now. Why did I even choose the 8am one, what is wrong with me? The professor starts off the first chapter of the class as we hear a loud knocking on the door. 

“Sorry I’m late,” I see Lando standing in the doorway, out of breath, his cheeks a light pink from the rush. His eyes search around the room for any seat still available until they meet mine. There’s one right next to me, but of course he’ll never take that one. He sets down his bag on the table front row and I feel my heart racing from embarrassment as my mind instantly jogs back to the email and how vulnerable it was. He turns around a final time and blankly looks at me. What is that supposed to mean? 

The class went by slower than ever, my mind speeding about different ways to go up to him and finally settle this ridiculous situation. 

8:55 finally strikes the clock as the professor concludes his explanation. As I put away my computer I see Lando clutching his books and bolting towards the exit. 

Not on my fucking watch. I head for his direction, calling out his name, “Lando! LANDOO!”

He turns on his heels in a swift motion, “What do you want from me?”

Suddenly feeling small, I still mustered up the courage to ask him about what’s going on, “Well you’ve read my email so I don’t know why you’re acting like you don’t know,” I grumble. “I feel like I’m making way too much effort here.”

“What email? What are you even talking about?” he asks, his thick brows furrowing in irritation. “I didn’t even give you my real email, the one I wrote down was just to fill the blank so the teacher won’t bug me,” he explains, still slightly confused as to what I was on about, “I just don’t want us to communicate outside of the mandatory attendings, got it ? We’ll meet there and that’s it.”

Well, at least that explains the total ghosting, doesn’t make it any less humiliating though. My lips close in a tight line, “Message received then, glad to know you’ll still be there for the museum,” I slowly nod my head trying to process what I’ve just been told. I feel my throat tightening up a bit and decide to leave before embarrassing myself any further, never looking behind me at the curly haired boy. 

Standing in line in front of the museum’s ticket office with my two favorite boys feels like we’re high schoolers on a field trip. I still feel uneasy about this upcoming afternoon, even if the run-in we had was terrible, he still assured me he’ll be coming today. 

But now, I don’t even want him to be here, I’m done with the idea of making any efforts with him, I’ve been way too kind to him. I’ll just stay glued to Dani and Alex and spend a nice afternoon at the museum with them, it’ll be way more fun than if he ever was to be here. 

“Still no news from Linguini?” Alex asks, trying to make sense of this situation, probably feeling bad for me. I really was pitiful.

“It’s not like I have a way of having any.” I half-joke trying to keep face despite anxiety and sadness creeping their way into my heart;

I found myself gazing at a beautiful photograph of a peony field, my favorite flower. The exhibition was showcasing the origins and the beauty of perfumes around the world. It involved a path filled with elements used to make our favorite scents through the use of pictures and different aromas being diffused all around the museum. I had clinged on to my favorite boys for twenty minutes before the teacher noticed, “I don’t care if your partner isn’t here, it’s a pairing of two only.” So now I was wandering around the exhibition and taking in the great sights and scents on my own. 

“Hey,” I turned around to see Lando looking ahead standing next to me, his hair covered by a green cap matching the crew neck sitting on his shoulders and the color of his eyes. Last time I thought they were blue, but they’re not. They’re the most gorgeous shade of olive green I had ever seen. It bothered me that I noticed these kinds of small details about him, he was the last person to deserve it. “Sorry I’m late.”

I kept my focus on the piece in front of me, “Alright.”

“Alright.”

“These are my favorite, my grandma used to grow some in her garden,” I tell him without really knowing why.

“My grandma had roses, those are nice too,” he answers, I just nod in agreement. We both keep looking at the photograph in silence for another minute when his phone starts to ring. 

“Hey babe,” he quickly picks up, “yeah it’ll be quick I promise - no I don’t care I just have to do this, you know that.” Wow, way to ruin the last speck of hope I had. He hangs up as fast as he picked up.

“You know you could’ve just told me you had a girlfriend and didn’t want to talk to me for that reason, I mean, It’s a little extreme but I get it.” I know that some girlfriends are overprotective and the idea of their boyfriends spending time with another girl can be a nightmare.

“It's not about her,” he spits out, “I just don’t want to be here, I’ve got better things to do,” and with that final sentence he rubs the salt in a wound that’s already way too deep for what it’s worth. 

“You don’t have to be here though, nobody’s forcing you to” I remark, my voice filled with resentment. I’ve had enough. 

“I do, though. I’m only doing this to pass my semester, so let’s just wrap this up,” he starts going for the rest of the exhibition in hopes of finishing early. When he doesn’t feel me following him, he turns around and stops, staring me down with his hands in his back pockets, his shoulders slumped in frustration.

Slowly shaking my head, I stand my ground and head towards the next step in the exhibition in silence, disregarding the icy stare from the green boy across the room. I’m not letting him get away with it this time. I’ll enjoy the rest of the tour and make sure to take my time. Might as well enjoy my own company if that’s all I’m gonna have for the rest of the program.

Taglist : @u5dthsduttd

[elusivewildflower]

Just Another Case | Holland March x Reader

Pairings: Holland March x F! Reader

Summary: You and Holland have been partners for the last year, solving case after ridiculous case together. Even though you’ve been mistaken as a couple countless times while working, the two of you are simply close friends. You might have feelings for him, but you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same. That is, until one particular case comes along on your laundry day, where you’re down to your last piece of clean clothing---a dress and no underwear. 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex, the case is about catching a husband cheating. Mostly turns out to be pretty sweet. 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve written or posted anything, but I hope I’ll be able to get back on track soon! Work and life has been pretty busy lately. I know in the movie Holland mentions that a “no-fault” law ended a lot of his cases like this, but let’s just say one pops up every now and then. (Because let’s be honest, even if I could divorce with no fault, I’d still like to have proof my spouse is cheating). Thank you to @ninjathrowingstork & another friend for beta-ing this for me! Based on the scene idea I had last week and the request I had sitting in my inbox by @wndawtch​.

You press your back against the wall in your kitchen, holding the phone to your ear as your fingers twirl the cord impatiently. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before you cursed under your breath. If he hadn’t answered by the third ring, you knew he wasn’t going to. It rang two more times before you were greeted with the familiar message of Holland’s answering machine. 

“You have reached March & Co Investigations. This machine records messages. Wait for the tone and speak clearly.” 

The answering machine beeps and you begin speaking. 

“Holland, did you forget you’re supposed to be working today? We were scheduled to meet Mrs. Jenkins at noon and you never showed.” You paused, heaving a sigh. “I swear, if you’re fully dressed and asleep in the tub again—“

The other line picked up and Holland’s groggy voice reached your ears, cutting you off. “What’s so bad about sleeping in the tub?” 

“Aside from the chance of drowning?” You asked rhetorically before continuing, “because you think that sitting in a tub full of water washes both you and what you’re wearing. Which is so not true, by the way.” 

“Oh yeah, says who?” He retorted defiantly.

“I do—and probably a lot of other people if we asked.” You responded quickly, not even waiting for Holland to come up with a response before you began speaking once more. “Get yourself dried off and ready to go. I’ll pick you up in an hour so we can actually start working—I’ve got a lead.” 

Holland gave a grumble of agreement and you slammed the receiver back onto the base to hang up. Sometimes you couldn’t understand why you had agreed to be Holland’s partner over a year ago. He had a serious drinking problem and always seemed to get himself into trouble. On the other hand, he was also extremely intelligent—one of the best private investigator’s you had ever seen on his good days—and he was quite attractive. Throw in his sob story about being a single father to a teenage daughter who lost his wife in a house fire and you were hooked. 

Not that the two of you had ever crossed over the line of being business partners and friends aside from a few flirtatious remarks, but honestly you wouldn’t mind it. You had grown rather close to the young widower and his daughter, Holly, over the last year. Hell, when Holly started her period a few months ago, she called and told you first before mentioning it to her father. You spent more time at their rental home than at your own, and you honestly lost count of the times people had mistaken you for a couple when you were on a case.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall before heaving a sigh and pushing yourself from the wall you were leaning against to call Holland. There was enough time to start a load of laundry, but it wouldn’t finish drying before you had to leave. As you rounded up the hamper from your bedroom filled to the brim with dirty clothes, you cursed yourself for not waking up earlier in the morning—and also cursed your past self for not doing laundry sooner. You had donned your last piece of clean clothing this morning before meeting Mrs. Jenkins, which was a knee-length floral dress. Its color complimented your skin tone nicely, and the deeply cut neckline made your breasts look fantastic. It wasn't exactly what you'd wear on a normal day of work---unless the day consisted of trying to catch a man cheating on his wife. Which, technically you were, but today's lead included the address of his supposed mistress. You and Holland would simply need to do a bit of a stake out to see if you could catch Mrs. Jenkins' husband coming or going from the property, and the dress was definitely not needed.

Before you knew it, an hour had ticked by. You grabbed your purse, slid your heels back on, and locked the door behind you as you exited your house. You told Holland you’d pick him up in an hour, but you only lived a few streets away and he was never ready on time, so you didn’t care that you were late. Honestly, you weren’t the best with time management either, so you were thankful you had a partner that ran late. A few minutes later, and you were pulling into March's driveway, honking your horn to announce your arrival.

About ten minutes later, Holland finally emerges from his home, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. As he climbs into the passenger seat he glances over at you, doing a double take as he realizes what you’re wearing. “What bar or club are we going to?” He questions curiously.

You shake your head as you reverse out of his driveway. “We’re not going to a bar or club.” 

Holland’s brows furrowed in confusion as he ashes his cigarette out the window. “But you’re wearing the dress.” 

You should have known he’d recognize the dress. “I have the address to the alleged mistress, we don’t need to go to a bar. We’re gonna do a stake out.” You explained.

Holland still seemed confused, a frown forming on his face as he eyed you over. “What, do you have a hot date after this or something?” 

He was clearly not letting this go, and did he seem a bit upset at the thought of you having a hot date? You had to be imagining that. 

“No, no hot date. I just felt like wearing a dress,” You gave a shrug as you lied. After criticizing his method of laundry—the thought of sitting fully dressed in a tub still made you shudder—you didn’t feel like admitting that you didn’t have anything else clean. 

Holland must’ve believed you, because he stopped badgering you with questions about it. He did, however, start asking about the case. You spent the rest of the drive filling him in on the details he missed when he overslept the meeting you had with your client.

As you pulled off to the side of the road to park, your heart dropped to your stomach. Your client neglected to mention that the mistress’s house had a seven-foot tall fence all of the way around and a gated driveway. You could feel Holland’s eyes boring into the side of your head. Ignoring him, you grabbed the binoculars from the back seats and simply exited the car. You walked up to the gate at the driveway, double checking that you had the right address. Your shoulders slumped when you realized that you were at the correct address. This was going to make capturing photos for proof of his cheating more difficult. 

You heard the passenger side door slam shut as Holland joined you. “Well, this is great.” He deadpanned, placing his hands upon his hips as he surveyed the fence. 

You sighed, nodding your head in agreement. “Yep.” 

A moment of silence passed between you until Holland broke it with a click of his tongue. “Alright, come on. I’ve got an idea.” He ushered, moving to kneel down beside the fence.

Your brows furrowed as you watched him, unsure of what he was planning. 

He noticed your look of confusion and sighed, beckoning you closer. “Come on, I’m gonna lift you up there.” 

“What?” The question tumbled out of your lips before you realized it, your heart rate rising as fear coursed through you. Holland wasn’t exactly the strongest man in the world, and he tended to be clumsy. You trusted him with a lot of things, but being capable of not dropping you wasn’t one of them. Not to mention that you ran out of clean underwear this morning and were currently going commando under your dress. You swore to yourself that this was the last time you’d ever wait so long to wash clothes.

“Well, I don’t see you lifting me, and someone needs to be able to see over the fence.” He explained as if his idea made perfect sense. Which, in fairness, it did. Except for the two things you were currently worried about; Holland dropping you and seeing up your dress. 

You remained still for a few more moments, your feet refusing to move from where you stood as you mulled over your options—or lack thereof. 

Holland rolled his eyes at you as he grew impatient. “Oh, come on.” He beckoned you again, “before someone sees us!” 

Taking a deep breath, you finally agreed. “Fine,” you began, “But do not look up my dress, Holland.” You warned him sternly, pointing a finger at him. 

Holland looked insulted. “Why would I look up your dress?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, your finger now wagging at him. “Because I know you.” 

Holland raised his hands in surrender, dropping his insulted act. “Alright, alright, I won’t look up your dress.” 

Appeased by his answer, you close the distance between you. Holland laces his fingers together, giving you a spot to place your foot. You hold onto his shoulder as you step into his hands, and he lifts you up as he moves to stand. He lifts you a bit too high too fast and you’re suddenly scrambling to grab hold of the fence so you don’t fall. 

“Jesus! Not that high!” You scold him as you struggle to find your balance. 

Holland mutters out an apology and lowers you slightly. 

Leaning yourself against the fence, you raise your binoculars to your eyes. You scan the windows of the house, starting with the first floor. Disappointment flooded your veins as you were coming up empty-handed, that is until you panned to the last window on the second floor. A nude woman was pressed against the window getting railed from behind. You couldn’t tell by who, but you assumed it was your client’s husband. You let out a gasp. Jesus Christ. That must be nice. Just as you opened your mouth to tell Holland what you had found, you heard his voice below you. 

“Holy fuck—You’re not wearing any underwear!” 

Holland’s words caused you to release your grip on the fence in a panic, snapping your attention towards him. You find him still staring up your dress in shock, his jaw dropped open. You reach out to swat at him, shouting his name in an annoyed tone. “I told you not to look!”

Your words seemed to shake Holland out of his stupor, but your swat only backfired on you. Holland tried to dodge your hand out of instinct, which only served to make him lose his balance and send the both of you toppling to the ground. It happened so quickly you don’t even remember falling, but you definitely felt the pain of the impact. Every part of your body ached, but it didn’t feel like you had broken or sprained anything, so that was good. Your head may have been pounding from smacking the ground, but it was better than your skull being cracked open by the sidewalk. You had missed that by just a few inches, you realized as you rolled onto your side. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you lift me,” you groaned out, looking over at Holland.

Clearly, you had taken the brunt of the fall, as Holland was already sitting up and staring at you. “Why aren’t you wearing any underwear?!” He asked incredulously, ignoring your previous comment.

“It’s laundry day and I didn’t have any clean!” You admitted.

Holland shook his head unbelievingly. “Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette…” He spoke as he reached into his jacket, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette just a moment later. After pulling the first drag, he regarded you once more. This time it seemed like he was checking you for any injuries, rather than staring at you like a deer in headlights. “I’m sorry for dropping you. Are you alright?” He asked sincerely, gesturing towards you with his hand.

You nodded and moved to sit up, another groan tumbled from your lips as your body ached in protest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You assured him. You may wind up with several bruises and have a hard time getting out of bed tomorrow, but you’d survive. 

A comfortable silence fell between you once more as Holland smoked and you let the pounding in your head subside. After a few moments, Holland snuffed out his cigarette in the grass. “That’s why you’re wearing the dress,” he announced, having put together that you lied to him earlier. “You didn’t want to wear that, you just didn’t have anything else to wear today.” 

Your eyes snapped up from the grass to meet his as he broke the silence, but you didn’t bother giving him a response, your facial expression was enough. He was right and he knew it, you didn’t need to confirm it with words. 

“I may bathe in my clothes, but at least I always have clean underwear.” He spoke in a chastising tone that had you rolling your eyes. “So, did you see anything?” He asked after a moment, gesturing towards the binoculars that were lying on the grass. 

As you glanced at where he gestured, you remembered what you had witnessed right before Holland dropped you. “Yeah, I saw a naked woman being railed against her bedroom window.” You shrugged and continued speaking as Holland reached for the binoculars. “I couldn’t see by who, though, so we’ll just have to wait until he leaves.” 

Springing up to his feet, Holland tried his best to see over the fence, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. It was no use, though, as he wasn’t tall enough to see over it unless he backed all of the way up into the street—and then he’d likely be hit by a car. He sighed defeatedly and turned back to you. “When does Mrs. Jenkins say her husband comes home after this?” 

You looked down at your watch, your eyes widening as you realized what time it was. 1:54 p.m. Mrs. Jenkins said her husband usually got home around 2:30 p.m. and you were about thirty minutes away from where she lived. As if on cue, you hear the sound of an engine starting up in the driveway. Your attention turns back to Holland, his blue eyes connecting with yours. “Right now.” You spoke hurriedly, rushing to get yourself up from the ground. Like the gentleman he is, Holland helped you to your feet and the two of you took off running towards your car. 

“Why is our timing always so terrible?” Holland asked exasperatedly as you ran. 

“I don’t know, but I blame you.” You replied, slamming the door shut behind you as you hopped into the car. 

Holland’s door slammed shut right after yours. “You blame me? Why?” 

You’re digging around in the backseat for your camera, not even looking at Holland as you respond. “Because you distract me,” you admit carelessly, not paying attention to the words that fall from your mouth until it’s too late. The car in the driveway is growing closer to the gate, and if it was your client’s husband that was leaving, you needed to capture a picture of it in order to be paid. As you return to your seat, fiddling with the camera to turn it on, you realize what you just said to Holland and your heart hammers in your chest. 

Holland shakes his head in disbelief. “I distract you? No, no, it’s you who distracts me.” 

Your brows furrow as you glance over at him . “How do I distract you?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you forget what happened not even fifteen minutes ago?” Holland gestures towards the spot the two of you were standing previously. “I just saw up your dress and you’re not wearing any fucking underwear! Do you know what that did to me?”

His question seemed rhetorical, or maybe you had just lost all function in your brain at the implication of his words. 

“And don’t even get me started on that dress. You look so god damn sexy in that, and I hate that you only wear it to lure married men into flirting with you for a case.” Holland admitted, only pausing long enough to suck in a breath of air before he continued. “I get so fucking jealous watching those men think they have a chance with you, and you don’t even notice!” Holland stares at you as he finishes, waiting for a response as your brain tries to wrap around what he just confessed. 

Your thoughts are running a mile a minute, trying to remember every time you’ve had to flirt with a married man for a case. Did you really not notice that Holland was jealous? Or did you just try to shrug it off because you didn’t believe he could ever feel that way for you? Your mouth suddenly feels dry at the realization, but eventually you speak. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me….” 

“Of course I do, how couldn’t I?” Holland spoke as if he couldn’t believe you didn’t notice sooner. “You’re gorgeous, extremely smart,” he then gestured towards himself, “you put up with my bullshit, and you’re so good to Holly.” A small smile spread across his face as he spoke of his daughter. “She loves you, you know?”  

You returned his smile and nodded, leaning in closer to the center console. “Yeah, I know.” 

Holland closed the short distance between you, his face mere inches from yours as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, hesitatingly whispering his confession. “And I love you, too.” 

Gazing into his cool blue eyes, you couldn’t help the blinding smile that grew on your face. “I love you, too, Holland.” You admitted before capturing his lips. Holland’s hand rose to your neck, gripping the back of it as he locked you in a passionate kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips for entrance, but the sound of a gate opening made him pull away. 

“Mrs. Jenkin’s husband, Mrs. Jenkin’s husband!” He cried out, pointing at the car that was pulling out of the driveway right in front of you.

“Oh, shit!” You exclaimed, pulling yourself away from Holland and quickly grabbing the camera from your lap. You raised it to your eye and managed to snap a few incriminating photos of the man who matched the description of your client’s husband driving away. 

You placed the camera back into the floor of the back seat and turned towards Holland with a grin. “Well, let’s go get paid.” 

Holland leaned over, gently grabbing your jaw and pulling your lips to meet his. “As soon as the check’s in the bank, I’m taking you on a date.” He promised, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll even buy a new dress.” You spoke softly, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

A smirk spread across Holland’s face. “Any chance you won’t be wearing any underwear then, too?” 

You scoff and swat at his chest with a laugh. “Holland!” You shout his name in a scolding tone, turning back to face the steering wheel as you turn the keys in the ignition. 

“Well, that’s not a no….” He trails off as you start the drive back to your client’s home, eliciting a giggle from you. 

[kumezyzo]

can i get a little scenario where reader and sapnap were at an award show and they are secretly dating. that’s why during the show they met in the backstage to make out in secret BUT some staff saw them and took a pic to post it online and the next day they gotta explain ut on live

this has been in my inbox for too long. but thank you sm for requesting this!!! fem!reader.

anyway enjoy. or dont :) m.list

You looked down at you phone nervously, prepareing to announce the winner of the next award. you swiped out out of your messages, going over your two sentences worth of lines.

suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around you. you jolted and turned around to see your boyfriend in his all black suit, grinning at you. you rolled your eyes and reached up to rest your hands on his shoulders.

"i thought you didnt see my text," you tell him as you move your hands up to his neck.

"i was just tryna find my way back here," he glanced down at your lips. "i had to come calm my girl down just a bit."

you smiled and leaned in to touch your lips to his. he grinned into the kiss, licking lightly at your bottom lip. when you slightly parted you lips, he brought your bottom lip into his mouth, lightly sucking on it before pulling away.

He had a blush on his face paired with a dopey smile, "good luck, baby. you'll do great."

"I didnt think i could fuck up two sentences even if i tried," you giggle as you step away. he shrugs and looks you up and down, obviously checking you out.

"yn?" you both looked towarss the sound of the voice, a young woman standing there nervously. "this is the envelope. youre on in a few minutes."

they hand you the black envelope, looking ebtween you and nick, "sorry but visitors should be going back to their seats now."

"right, my bad," he said as he smiled. "good luck!"

Not even two days later, an article surfaced on twitter with the caption, 'Sapnap and Yn Seen Together at Award Show!"

at first, you thought its was a stupid gossip site that blew out of proportion the meaning of you two sitting so close together. but when it began gaining more traction and people were starting to tweet and send it to you two, you decided it was worth reading.

the main media was a video of you two not even a second before you two started kissing backstage. you watched the video with your heart racing. it felt violating knowing someone was watching you when you thought you were alone.

"who the fuck even filmed the video," clay asked to no on in particular. the four of you were standing around the kitchen island. you had all strangely found eachother only a few hours after the article was posted.

"i think it was the staff that came in to give me the fucking envelope," you said, blankly staring at the marble pattern of the counter top.

"i dont think it matters now, people know now," george said as if trying to mediate the situation. "you have to say something."

"this is such bullshit," nick said in frustration as he looked at you from across the kitchen island.

"yea, but theres nothing you can do now," clay reiterated. "make a statement and dont post shit for a bit."

"to adress the rumours, yn and i are dating," nick said to the camera in defeat. you two sat next to eachother, accepting that you had to film this video. both of you appearing visibly annoyed. "we dont really care about anyones opinions on our relationship because its really none of your business."

you scoffed and shook your head, "this isnt the way we would have ever planned or expected this to go, but sadly, here we are," you took in a deep breath. "this is all we have to say for now. and respectfully... fuck off."

this is short but ive been so dizzy and reading/writing is hard. so i hope you enjoyed -Nony

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I Got You. - OC Backstory

pairing: COD OC!Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x MootOC!Rosie (platonic) words: 3.3k~ cw: canon-typical violence/talk, attempt at military accuracy, espionage, government conspiracies, paranoia, mental breakdown/issues, physical/health neglect, flashbacks.

August 6th, 2023. 2139 hours. Comrie, Scotland.

Whiskey's splayed out on the bed. She snaps a picture that catches only her tired eyes, knit eyebrows and poofy brown hair in the darkness of the room, before typing some random caption and shooting it off to Meabh.

It was typical for them to text through Snap. It was the only social app Whiskey kept after she left home 5 years ago. Her phone was void of other apps other than food delivery, youtube, her e-mail and Snapchat.

At the top of the screen, a pop-up appears, announcing the arrival of a new e-mail on her inbox. A Facebook one, from an account she long abandoned, along with her abandoning all other social medias. And yet, the name 'Holly Willi-' cut off by the character limit had her raising a brow.

Tapping at the notification, her e-mail client opened with an automated e-mail from Facebook alerting her that Holly Williams had sent her a direct message. Now that's new.

Holly Williams... That was one of dad's cousins. From Grandpa Willie's side of the family, if her memory served her. She remembers family dinners and barbecues spent together, her big Irish-American family getting together for the 4th of July, and Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

She hasn't seen her 'Aunt Holly' (even though the woman was really her first cousin once removed) since before she went to university nearly 13 years ago. What could the woman want now?

Clicking on the link, she's taken to the Facebook client page on her browser and after trying, failing, and reseting the password of her account, she clicks the DM tab and opens the message:

Hi Vicky dear, it's your auntie Holly. Hope you're doing well. I heard about your papa, my condolences. I hope it's not a bother but I reached out to your mama to talk to your daddy about some military things and she sent me your way because she said you're in the navy. I see you haven't uploaded anything in a few years so this might not even reach you but I could use your help very urgently and I'm frankly desperate. If you see this, is there anyway you could call me at this number? It's very important!!! Thanks. Aunt Holly x

Her brow scrunches. Since when does Aunt Holly need to talk about the military? Isn't she a professor? Whiskey clicks on her profile and checks her job listing. Right, she's a History professor in NYU. So what's this? Is this for some research study of hers?

But then again, she said it herself that she's desperate... And the tone of her message isn't the most uplifting one... She sounds like she's really in need of her help... And Whiskey has never been good at being heartless. Sighing and scratching her head, Whiskey sits up in bed.

She copies the number from the DM and calls it, hearing the repeated beeping of the call attempting to connect as Simon comes up the stairs and into the bedroom, sweatpants close to falling off his hip and wrapped in a warm sweater.

He raises a brow at her as she's holding the phone to her ear, signaling vaguely to indicate it's an important call, so he takes a spot beside her, with an arm around her waist.

"Holly Williams." The older woman greets on the other side, her voice professional, like she was waiting for a work call.

"Hey, Aunt Holly, it's Victoria." Whiskey murmurs, her southern accent suddenly triggering full-force, like it hasn't in over three years.

-

August 10th, 2023. 1321 hours. Yonkers, New York.

"When you get there, please, you need to understand, she's... she's not herself."

Victoria climbed out of the Uber and popped open the trunk, pulling out her black suitcase, and thanking the driver with a nod and a wave before he drove off.

Then, she stood in front of the brownstone townhouse, eyeing it up and down, with inquisitive eyes, before taking a deep breath and climbing the front steps to the stoop.

"She hasn't been the same, not after Alex passed away."

The doorbell rings inside the house for a few moments, before the door opens and a pale face regards her from the other side, strawberry blonde curls disheveled, eyes heavy with dark circles.

"Hey, Rosie..." Victoria greets gently. The woman knew she was coming, Aunt Holly having warned her. "It's me, Victoria... Vicky, remember?" She asks in a soft tone, hoping she's not too far gone yet.

"Vicky..." Rosie says softly as she regards the slightly shorter brunette with wild, crazied eyes but eventually nods and unlocks the door all the way, letting Victoria inside.

"When you see her, please... be kind to her. She's really struggling..."

Victoria remembers the last time she saw Rosemary. Victoria had to have been 16. Rosie had just graduated from college, and it was the summer. At the time, she always dressed in bright colors, a hippy style, with Birkenstocks galore... She was very put together, healthy, pretty. They weren't the closest cousins in the world, but they spent time together during the holidays; Rosie taught Vicky how to do her hair to keep her curls healthy; they spoke about boys...

Before coming here, Victoria had even checked her cousin's Facebook page, finding an old album of photos from family gatherings that included the two of them, when they were much, much younger (and happier). It had been so long since they last saw each other... She needed a refresher on her cousin's appearance...

But now, as she's getting let into the house, she realizes Rosemary looks like shit. Somehow, worse than Victoria had expected when her mother had reached out and told her all about the state she is in. Paranoid, manic, depressive and reclusive, Aunt Holly worrying her only daughter was schizophrenic. Her hair looks greasy and matted, and she seems like she's lived in the same outfit for multiple days, maybe weeks. The house reeks. She reeks.

"Nobody can get her out of the house... And she's not taking care of herself..."

The house is dirty and messy, take out containers and paper bags of food delivery strewn about, the trashbag in the kitchen overflowing, the laundry basket in the laundry room too. Every picture frame in the house has blue, yellow, or pink post-its over it, the mirrors as well. Victoria follows her cousin across the house, each step she takes crushing some trash, or nearly tripping over a clothes pile. She's dangerously close to becoming a hoarder, it looks like...

Victoria has to force herself to take a few deep breaths through her mouth and not her nose, so that she doesn't get sick. She knows it would not be helpful in her cousin's state.

Rosie's able to push some trash off the couch to make space for the two of them to sit, though she keeps a large gap between herself and Victoria, probably ashamed of her smell, or appearance, or doubting that she can trust her...

"Every time I try to talk to her... It's like I'm talking to a crazy person... She's my daughter, I love her, but she needs help..."

"Your mom told me some of what's been going on." Victoria begins as she sets her hands on her lap and looks at Rosie with her best attempt at showing empathy and kindness.

"What'd she tell you? That I'm going crazy? I'm not, you know?" Rosie says defensively. "She thinks I'm losing it, and that I need to be committed, but I don't." She assures the brunette.

"Well, no, that's not what she said." Victoria lied. Yes, it had been 100% what Aunt Holly had said when they met up the day before, after she picked Victoria up at the airport, having bawled her eyes out behind the wheel.

"Then what did she say?" Rosie asks directly, her brows knitting together in anxious worry, her hands already trembling on her lap.

"To be honest," Victoria continues, choosing her words carefully, "I didn't understand most of it... I think it'd be best if I heard it from you. Can you tell me what's been going on?" She asked in earnest.

And tell her, Rosie did.

For the next three hours, Victoria heard her ramble and ramble, more and more and more.

About Alex, about his missions, about how Rosie always worried he'd die in the field, how they pronounced him dead in 2019 but she never got to see a body, only his dogtags, and his grave is empty... Victoria thought that was pretty normal, average even... it was the normal treatment for soldiers who died in ways that made it so their body couldn't be recovered... Like during an explosion.

But then Rosie went on and on about how she feels like she's being watched, stalked, surveilled, how she gets stopped by cops too much, and keeps seeing the same faces around the places she usually goes to like Target or Walmart, how there's a van parked outside 24/7, how she's sure that there's cameras and microphones around the house... And it was all being too much.

"She thinks she's being stalked, watched by the govenment, and like they're out to get her."

"Rosie... why would the government be doing such a thing?" Victoria asked her in earnest once she paused in her rants.

"You're not LISTENING!" Rosie complained, her body already having started to shake in distress as she retold everything to her cousin.

"No, no, I am listening. I'm just trying to understand." Victoria replied in an attempt to soothe her and gently took her hands in hers, which caused Rosie to tear up.

"It's NOT the government, it's the CIA!" The blonde shrieked and sniffled, trembling beside Victoria. "Alex was an agent... he..." She trailed off and shook her head. "Nobody tells me anything, I tried calling, nobody tells me!"

Victoria sighed and carefully scooted closer, taking a breath and daring to wrap an arm around Rosemary's form, in the gentlest of ways. "That tends to happen a lot, you know? They... well... when a soldier dies a gruesome death. They close the cases and put high clearances in place so that it doesn't shock the family." The brunette said.

"She's in complete denial, Vicky. She's living in her paranoia and delusion..."

"No!" Rosemary argued. "He's not dead, Vicky, he's not! Whatever... Whatever happened, they're covering it all up! They- he's not dead! They didn't even tell me how he died! Not even if it was heroic or anything!" She wailed as a hiccuping sob rattled her and shook her form against Victoria's side.

Victoria sighed and looked around the room. She was not equipped to deal with this. She half wished that Simon was here. He had dealt with people in altered states of mind, his brother, especially...

"You need to help me, Vicky... You're my only hope! You have to find out what happened. You know people, right? My mom said your mom said you're in the Special Forces! You know things?!" Rosie whined in a pitiful tone, her big blue eyes glued to Victoria's, and making her own hazel ones soften.

"I'll try, Rosie... But even I don't have that high of clearance..." Victoria replied in a soothing tone. "But I promise I'll try."

Victoria meant it. Her cousin might be mental and delusional, but, at least, Victoria could poke around a little bit and see if she could at least find what happened to the body...

"Where did you say he was sent to?" The soldier asked with a cocked brow, her hand gently rubbing Rosie's arm and shoulder in her best attempt at being comforting.

"In the Middle East... Urzikstan, I think..." Rosemary replied and looked up at Victoria. "You're going to look into it, right?" She pleaded.

Victoria nodded. "Of course I will." She replied and smiled at her, trying not to let the feeling of instant dread that was growing in the back of her mind from showing on her face.

Urzikstan... Price and Kyle were just there last year... Working alongside the militia there.

"Now... how about I help you give this place a tidying up... and you go take a shower, and try to relax, hm?" She offered.

Rosie's face began to flush a bit, with the sudden reminder that she had been neglecting herself and probably smelled so bad... And here was Victoria hugging her. "I probably should..." She trailed off and began pulling away from the other woman.

The brunette let her go and nodded. "Call me up when you're done, I'll help do your hair, how's that?" She offered and smiled kindly at Rosie.

Rosemary gulped and nodded. "Yeah..." She got up, beginning to shuffle out of the living room. She stopped by the door and turned back to look at her cousin. "Thank you for this... for everything..." She said gratefully.

Victoria shook her head. "Don't thank me. That's what *family*'s for, right?" She asked, though the word family, one she hadn't used in a while, left a bitter taste in her mouth. Rosie nodded and then disappeared back upstairs.

Once Victoria heard the bathroom door upstairs shutting with a loud thud, she bounced up off the couch.

Whiskey mode activated and she began looking around the room, pulling out her cellphone and turning on the flashlight to shine it off any hidden nook and cranny, like behind the TV, and inside the A/C vents.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Five fucking cameras, just in the living room and entryway alone. She doesn't want to imagine how many more are hidden throughout the house.

It seems that Rosie isn't as delusional and crazy as Aunt Holly thought...

Approaching the window, Whiskey pulls the blinds aside and pears out through the gap, pushing her back against the wall, looking up and down the street. She notices the white van parked a couple hundred feet away, advertising a dry-cleaning service. She knows immediately that that's where they operate from.

She almost wants to go over, with her pistol in hand, and scare them off. But she knows better than to fuck with the Agency... And, even more so, when she's not here as Whiskey, but as Victoria. As a civilian, with no armor, just a red halter top and jeans and boots, coming to visit her cousin.

Huffing, she shakes her head and closes the blinds again. "God damn it..." She murmurs, already feeling her own paranoia rising and her hackles rising. She's going to need to pull some strings to find out what in the hell went so wrong in Urzikstan 4 years ago that now an innocent civilian is being surveilled.

With another sigh, Victoria turns and looks around the room, noticing all the trash and, with a deep breath, she sets down her belongings on the cleared couch and enters the kitchen to seek out a pair of gloves and a trash bag.

This is going to be a long fucking day.

-

August 11th, 2021.

0209 hours.

Victoria lies sprawled on the bed next to Rosie, the two girls staring at the ceiling.

It had been hours upon hours of tidying up and cleaning, but the house was finally clean, the trash taken out, and Rosemary much less disheveled.

They lay together, side by side, holding each other's hands, more for Rosie's comfort, which Victoria has acquiesced to. Victoria has a handle of bourbon in her hand which both her and Rosie occasionally take sips from.

"So you got married...?" Rosie murmurs and rolls her head toward Victoria. She's groggy, a mix of the alcohol, a full belly, a warm shower, a couple of melatonin gummies and the whiskey.

"Mhm." Victoria replies as she glances at Rosemary. "I didn't expect you to still be with dick boy." She quips.

The comment is funnier than Rosemary expected it to be, probably because of the state she's in, but she starts cackling aloud, snorting delightfully at it.

"Oh my God, I forgot he damn near showed his dick to grandma Patty while coming out of the pool." Rosie groans and shakes her head. "God, Alex was so embarrassed, he never wanted to go back!"

"That's what he was embarrassed of? Not that stupid fuckin' pube-looking mustache of his?" Victoria's comments, absolutely roasting the man, the alcohol having loosened her lips. "Did he still have that when he left for Urzikstan?"

Rosie once again has lost her mind belly laughing at the scathing comments her cousin made about Alex. Oh, how she needed the laughter.

"Noooo! It filled out. He had a nice thick mustache by then..." She replies and shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips.

"Well, at least there's that. I guess he outgrew his bad fashion choices." Victoria comments before she leans her head up to take another gulp of the bourbon on her bottle.

"Oh no he didn't!" Rosemary complains and suddenly seems to get a burst of energy, leaning forward to look at Victoria right in the eye. "He has the American flag tattooed on him!"

It's Victoria's turn to laugh, nearly choking on the drink, and causing the sweet, smooth alcohol to slide down her chin as she laughs. "Fuck off, no he doesn't?!"

"He DOES!" Rosemary insists. "And a bald eagle too!!!" She adds, which causes them both to laugh more, cackling at the ridiculousness. "I'm serious! Looked the eagle in the eyes once while he was balls deep in me.... You've ever tried getting a dick out of a dry pussy?"

This causes both girls to giggle again, nearly rolling around on the bed, tears forming in their eyes.

"God, and you married that man? He's been a fucking dork for decades now, Rosie!" Victoria complains.

"In my defense, we were drunk and in Vegas, okay?"

"YOU GOT MARRIED IN VEGAS?!"

"You know what?!" Rosie protests and points at Victoria. "We're talking too much about my marriage. What about you?" She asks in an accusatory tone.

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Don't change the subject just because you can't admit you have bad taste."

"Oh shut it!" Rosie nudges her. "You're avoiding the topic too!"

"Am not!" Victoria retorts. "I'm also married to a dork. But, unlike you, I have taste."

"How much of a dork are we talkin'?"

"Has a half-sleeve that's just straight up war motifs. Atom bombs, skulls, bullets..." She trails off. "And he wears a skull mask when he's out shooting terrorists."

"He WEARS what?"

Victoria shakes her head. "Don't make me say it again." She scrunches her nose, mock cringing.

"And you want to talk shit about me marrying Alex? You married, what, an emo?" Rosie quips as she tosses herself back on the bed, laughing again.

Victoria joins her, covering her eyes with her arm and giggling away, properly so, for the first time in three years. "God, we have bad taste, don't we?" She murmurs.

"You think it runs in the family?" Rosie asks with a playful tone and giggles again.

But this time, however, Victoria doesn't laugh. Instead, her eyes squint in suspicion and she suddenly sits up in bed, looking off into the distance.

How much of a coincidence would that be? Her husband, who is legally dead, who faked his own death and operates under an alias...

And her cousin's husband... who Lord knows what happened to him... But the CIA has their eyes on her, even though he's dead, so there's no reason to...

What if it really is a cover-up? What if he's only legally dead, just like Simon?

"What?" The blonde beside her asks in a gentle tone, eyebrows knit together. "Vicky, what's wrong?" She prompts, worried.

"...Nothing." Victoria replies as she lays down again after a long moment of silence. "Just realized I have to call Simon and ask him something..." She replies dismissively.

for @lyralein - told you she'd get more than that.

and also @crashtestbunny , @superhero-landing , and @loveandplanet bc you love Whiskey and Ghost

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Fatherly Comfort

Summary - Part 10 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - slight angst, mentions of pregnancy

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

Night falls and morning rises and Dean still hasn’t returned. You’re sitting in the kitchen alone sipping a cup of tea when Sam walks in half asleep. 

“Have you heard from Dean?”

“Sorry, Y/N, I haven’t. I thought he would’ve been back by now. He’s probably sleeping off a hangover in the Impala somewhere. I’m sure he’ll come home soon.”

“You don’t think he would’ve gone back to his old habits, do you? You don’t think he’s in some other woman’s bed right now? I mean, he said one-night stands are easier…”

“No, no, no way. Dean loves you, so much. No matter how upset or hurt, he would never. Just give him time, he’ll be back.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam pours himself a cup of coffee and makes his way into the library, leaving you alone again. You try Dean’s phone again but you just get the message bank. So you call Bobby instead. Much like how he’s the boy’s surrogate father, he had taken you in quickly too. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up? What have those Idjits done now?”

“Hey, Bobby, I need some advice, I don’t know what to do.”

“Was it Dean? Did he hurt you?”

“Honestly, I think it’s my fault. Do you think I could come stay with you for a while?”

“You know you’re always welcome here. I’ll make up the guest room and stock the fridge.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Anytime, kid.”

You go to your room and pack a bag, ensuring to slip in your knife and gun just in case. You stop by the library on your way to the garage.

“I can’t sit here and just wait for him to come back. I’m gonna go stay with Bobby for a few days, maybe he knows where Dean is. If he comes back here just tell him to call me.”

“That’s a six-hour trip, do you want me to come with you?”

“I need some time to myself. I have my silver knife and gun, I can handle myself.”

“Please, let me come with you. Dean will kill me if he finds out I let you out of here on your own.”

“I’m not a child, Sam. In fact, I am having one. I can look after myself,” you turn to walk out.

Sam follows you to the garage. “Fine. But call me whenever you stop and when you get to Bobby’s. I’m gonna be tracking your cell also.”

“I will. Thanks, Sam.”

He pulls you in for a brief hug. You pull away and hop into the bright red vintage car, tossing your bag on the back seat. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Around six hours later you drive into the Singer Salvage yard. You’re utterly exhausted. Bobby comes out to meet you, opening the door for you before spotting your bag and grabbing it off the back seat.

“You look exhausted, kid. Come on inside and have a drink.”

You’re so drained you just nod and follow him inside. He takes your bag upstairs to the guest room before joining you on the couch with two open beers. You take one but you don’t drink it, you just swap the bottle from hand to hand inspecting it.

“What this cheap stuff ain’t good enough for ya anymore? That boy been spoilin’ you?”

“No, I’ve actually just recently given up drinking.”

“A hunter that doesn’t drink? That’s new. He knocked you up, didn’t he?”

You don’t say anything. You put the beer on the side table and grab a cushion, pulling it close to your chest. Tears start to well up again as you take a deep breath.

“Aw, darlin’, does he know?”

You nod.

“Alright, then what are you doing on my couch?”

“I’m not sure if I should keep it.”

“And Dean?”

“We had a fight about it…I haven’t heard from him since. He has been nothing but supportive, he wants this baby so badly and I know I hurt him when I mentioned thinking about an abortion. 

He said that our relationship was a bad idea and that one-night stands are easier. I’m scared, Bobby. What if he-”

“I’ve known that boy since he was a kid, he’s loyal to a fault and he loves you. If I know that boy then he’s driving around trying to find a way to disperse all the evil from the world so you have no reason to doubt keeping this baby. Deep down this has always been his dream, and now that there’s a chance of it coming true he’s gotta be struggling. Then you go and say you want to take that dream away from him?”

“Yeah…”

“I also can see where you’re coming from. You’re scared, unsure of how you’re gonna protect your child. Unsure of whether Dean will be able to give all this up and live a normal life with you? Am I close?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, let me tell you something. Those are fears every expectant parent has. I may not have had the chance to have children of my own but you three are pretty close to it. And even without all the demons and spirits and ghouls, I’d still worry about you being safe. Parents worry about how to protect their children from getting sick or hurt. That’s completely normal.”

“So you’re saying for the first time in ages I’m experiencing something completely normal?”

“More or less. Listen, you’ll always worry about the safety of your child, regardless of demons and such, but at least they’ll be surrounded by family who will protect them with their lives and do everything they can to keep them safe from all of this and anything else that comes their way.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Aw hell, it’s getting late and I haven’t even fed you yet. What can I get you?”

“I’d love a pizza, but I think the bean would disagree. Just think of anything Sam would eat and get me that.”

“You got the morning sickness, huh?”

“Unfortunately…”

“Alright, I’ll be back soon. You know the drill, make yourself at home.”

After Bobby leaves you pull out your phone and try to call Dean again. You get the message bank again, but instead of hanging up, you leave a message. “Hey Dean, it’s me, I’m worried about you and I miss you. Please call me, we need to talk. I love you, and I love the idea of raising this baby together, you keep saying we’ll do this together and I believe you-” The beep cuts you off. You get up and go upstairs to shower.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up to the smell of pancakes, so you get up and make your way downstairs. You find Bobby standing at the stove with his back to you. You spot the orange juice on the table with two plates. 

“I didn’t realise you cooked.”

“Well, good morning to you too.”

“Sorry, good morning, Bobby.”

“I don’t really not since, well you know. But it’s not every day a pregnant woman turns up on my doorstep. You need a fulfilling breakfast, you’re growing my grandbaby.”

“Your grandbaby, huh?”

“Family don’t end in blood, kid.”

“This baby is lucky to have such a caring and protective grandfather. Oh, and orange juice instead of whisky? It’s a weird look.”

“Shut up, ya idjit.”

“I love you too, Bobby. Thank you again for all of this.”

While you wait for Bobby to finish cooking you grab your phone to call Dean again, but you find it’s flat so you plug it in to charge. When it lights up you find 20 missed calls from Sam but none from Dean.

“Bobby, did Sam call you?”

“Yeah, I told him you were here. He said you promised to call. He was really worried about you.”

“I forgot to call him when I got here.”

You call Sam and apologise for not calling and scaring him. 

Over breakfast, you discuss the ongoing demon situation. And then you help with the dishes. As you’re drying up you hear an all too familiar purr of an engine. You turn to Bobby and say, “you called him?”

“Damn right I did. I need to set that idjit straight.”

“Did you tell him I was here?”

“No, but I bet he spotted that sweet red ride the second he drove in.”

“He’s gonna be so mad I left the bunker. I need more time! I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Hey, Bobby! Please tell me you picked up a car identical to one from the bunker!” you hear Dean call out. The sound of his voice makes you freeze.

Dean walks in without knocking but stops as soon as he sees you. You keep your eyes locked on the ground. You can feel his gaze on you. You start to tear up again, guilt filling your body.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff,

[bettsfic]

hello! here's an excerpt of the snowbaird modern AU i've been working on. it's a holiday fic, so i'd love to have it posted before christmas. in this fic, coriolanus is a server at a restaurant and lucy gray is the bartender. she's recently started asking him for rides home, so they've been getting to know one another. it's currently sitting at about 10k and i hope to god it maxes out before 25k.

With his texts still pulled up, he decided to reach out to Lucy Gray. They were friends, after all. Friends texted each other. But what to say? “How are you” was boring and banal. She might find it sweet but he knew her well enough to know that she liked getting to the root of things. 

Where was that song from? The fare thee well one

She didn’t reply right away. He tried to occupy his attention with organizing his email inbox and checking his Canvas assignment calendar, but he found his eyes straying repeatedly to his phone. Twenty minutes later, he received a text back. He snatched up his phone, expecting the name of an artist and album, or a link to a YouTube video, or an inquiry as to why he didn’t just google it himself, but instead when he opened the message he found a wall of text so long that he had to scroll three times to reach the top.

HI CORIOLANUS!, it began. He thought all caps and an exclamation point was stylistically redundant but he appreciated and was relieved by her enthusiasm. Fare thee well has an interesting history dating back to 1909…

Were it not for the myriad spelling and punctuation errors, he would have thought she’d copied it from Wikipedia. From anyone else, the infodump would have bored him, but from her it only warmed him to think she’d been willing to spend so much time sharing her knowledge with him. To him, both time and attention were precious commodities.

He’d put off texting her for so long in part because he worried the conversation would become strained and awkward, but the reverse was true: texting her was so easy—and he was so eager to respond to her messages—that he did it while he drove and nearly veered into a median on the way home. He knew she was working that night and so the messages slowed down in the evening. He had to pocket his phone at the dinner table per one of the few household rules, but he could still barely pay attention to the benign chatter of Tigris and the Grandma’am about grocery store deals and soap operas.

While he did the dishes, Tigris leaned against the counter, arms across her chest, and said, “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you work sixty hours a week and don’t sleep.”

He glanced over his shoulder to find the Grandma’am had returned to her easy chair in the family room, the television blasting an obnoxious commercial jingle for a local car dealer. 

“I met a girl,” he said.

Tigris’s pale eyebrows rose up to her equally pale hair. “A girl? Like, a girl girl?”

“How is a girl girl different than a girl?”

“I just mean, like, a girl?”

“I have a crush, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tigris squealed and hugged him from the side. “Baby Coryo’s got his first crush!”

“It’s not my first—” He stopped. It was his first crush, aside from Geena Davis in A League of Their Own. His usual date for high school dances and makeout parties was Livia, who was easily the prettiest girl in his cohort just as he was the prettiest boy, although he had never been attracted to her and the feeling, or lack thereof, seemed to be mutual. But that was the Academy for you—if you looked like you should be together, then you were, by definition, together. The power of appearances.

“I guess it is,” he said to the dirty dishwater.

“Does she like you back?”

He hadn’t considered that. He’d just assumed she didn’t and never would. Everything he’d ever wanted had been out of his reach and Lucy Gray was no exception.

“I’ve been driving her home from work,” he said. “And we’ve been texting.”

He showed Tigris the text thread.

“All of this is from today?” she asked, scrolling and scrolling.

“She’s a bit verbose.”

“She uses so many emojis.”

“It’s so cute.”

“And look at all these spelling errors.”

“Also cute.”

Tigris looked up from the phone. “You’re really gone on her. I never thought you’d like a girl who messes up there, their, and they’re.”

“I’m not a pedant.”

“Pedantry is a core facet of your personality, Coryo. You started correcting my use of ‘whom’ when you were four.”

“You may have noticed I’ve changed a bit since then. If nothing else, I’m taller and slightly less obsessed with Spongebob Squarepants.”

She gave him a look.

“Okay, very slightly less,” he amended.

[obwjam]

GIANT TRENT CRIMM!!!!! IVE SEEN NO GIANT TRENT CONTENT WHAT ARE UR THOUGHTS ON HIM PLS

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while so let me make that up to you with a FICLET (inspired by convos with @rockification and @snack-at-midnight) in which trent discovers a borrower and is so enamored that he just HAS to tell ted

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

You were exhausted.

Your entire day was spent begging, pleading with the giant who had caught you mere days ago not to reveal your existence to anyone else. You knew who he was -- reporter-turned-author Trent Crimm, formerly of The Independent, now just independent. You spent your days traversing the vast AFC Richmond training facility, finding new places to hide and explore just about every day.

You just didn't count on someone finding you.

"It's alright, little one," Trent reassured you for the millionth time. You cringed at the nickname he used for you. It was so... dehumanizing. "Ted is a wonderful man, he won't hurt you."

You rolled your eyes. "I know he won't hurt me."

"Then might I ask what the problem is?" Despite how icky it made him feel, Trent knew he could use his size to his advantage. The two of you sat at his desk right next door to the coaches office, alone inside the facility at nearly 1 a.m. The writer leaned over you slightly, his shadow casting a long, dark shape that engulfed your form. You looked up with wide eyes and gulped.

"I... I just..." you started, unsure of how sassy you wanted to get. He could do anything to you. "I'm not very... keen on being discovered by an entire football club."

Trent felt a pang in his stomach. He really was sympathetic to your situation, but even if he didn't work in journalism anymore, he was still a journalist at heart, which meant that a secret like the existence of tiny people just couldn't stay a secret.

"You're lucky. There was a time I'd have reported your existence to the entire world," Trent remarked, subtly hoping that it would somehow make you feel better. "Besides, it's not the entire football club. It's just Ted." Trent thought for a moment. "And maybe Beard."

"Wow, lucky me," you snapped, not really thinking.

Trent pursed his lips and sighed. This snappy version of you was a far cry from the tiny he had discovered in his office around this time of night just a few days ago.

"Oh, my... what on earth...?"

You froze. You knew you lived in a place where the team was in and out at unorthodox hours, but you could read a clock. It was 2 a.m. Who was actually here at 2 a.m.?

Oh, right. The guy whose desk you were raiding supplies from.

Trent was speechless. Standing on his desk, clutching a paper clip like their life depended on it, was a human, no more than a few inches tall. As strange as it all was, as a journalist, he had heard it all. Phone calls and emails and messages from all sorts of people, ranging from good-mannered readers to straight-up nutcases... several of whom once tried to warn him of the existence of "imps" that would soon take over the world. What that had to do with him, a sports reporter, never made sense to Trent, but it's the first thing that popped into his mind.

You couldn't move. Why is he here? was the only thing going through your mind. This wasn't real. It was just another nightmare. You'd wake up any moment now...

Slowly, Trent leaned down. Nope, this was all very real. His salt-and-pepper hair spilled over his shoulders as his face grew closer to your trembling form, trying to find the words. I'm about to be the very first person to make contact with a tiny lifeform, he thought, not stopping to think that this might not be the first time.

"Hello, little one," he managed to say, quieter than he thought he was capable of. "I hope you'll excuse my surprise, I'm... well, I didn't expect to be seeing any tiny people on my desk tonight."

You just stared at him. What were you supposed to say?

"I'm Trent Crimm. What's..." he started before noticing just how scared you were. He had to adjust his plans. "You can tell me your name later, if you'd like." He cautiously took a seat, enamored at the way you gaped at his movements. "Is it alright if I ask you some questions?"

At this point, Trent knew just about everything he could ever want to know about you. He had this way of making you feel safe and drawing you in...

"I'm sorry, (y/n), I just -- if you were me, do you really think you could keep this a secret? You -- your existence -- it's quite remarkable, really."

You opened your mouth to reply, but Trent continued.

"You told me you've observed every single person who's ever walked through this clubhouse. Right?"

You nodded.

"So by now, you must have seen Ted, and how... gentle he is with others."

Another nod, though this one tentative.

"Then believe me when I say that me -- Ted -- we would keep you safe," Trent said, fumbling his words a bit. "I know you're nervous, but I promise, I'd never do anything to hurt you. At all."

You felt yourself blush. You were really starting to believe him.

"Why..." you began, checking to see how Trent would react to you speaking. He looked at you warmly, eager to hear what you had to say. "Why do you need to tell anyone at all?"

Trent sighed, leaning back in his chair, and took a moment to think. "Truthfully? I just can't contain my excitement," he said, shrugging. A small smile spread across his face. "If I can't tell the world, then... I suppose it's alright to tell just one person. Right?"

Your eyes darted to the tabletop, unsure of how to process this. On the one hand, you were a person, and it was unfair to dismiss your feelings. On the other hand, though... meeting Ted didn't seem like such a bad idea. He seemed like a good ally to have. And you had to admit, it was kind of flattering that Trent was so enamored with you. At the very least, he did ask if it was okay for him to introduce you to Ted... even if he was quite forward about it.

"Look... I understand the way you feel, I--I think. It's just... I don't think I'm ready yet -- to meet another person," you clarified. You stole a glance at Trent, who was taking it all in. You clenched your teeth under the weight of his stare. He's so big. "Maybe one day, when I... get used to being around you."

Trent's expression brightened. "Being around me, eh?"

Your face got hot. "Yeah. I don't think I could get rid of you now, even if I tried."

Trent laughed. "I suppose you're right." He cautiously put his elbow down on the desk, cupping his chin in his hand. The more he stared at you, the more he felt an intense desire to protect you and keep you safe from the madhouse of AFC Richmond. He was fascinated by your entire existence -- your life, your upbringing, your culture, everything. The dichotomy of the way you would nervously eye his hand and his movements, yet traverse the terrain that towered over you like an expert outdoorsman, was enamoring. It was an entirely new race of people to learn more about, and there was nothing Trent loved more than learning about people.

And telling stories.

"You know, I've asked you an awful lot of questions about yourself. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

You perked up. "Actually, I do. A lot of things. Starting with that device you stare at all day."

"The laptop?" Trent questioned, pointing to his closed Macbook.

You shook your head. "No. The smaller one. The rectangle."

Trent stifled a laugh. "You mean my phone?"

"Don't laugh," you chided. "How does it work?"

Now Trent was really smiling. Things as everyday and mundane as his phone were like a wonder to you, and to Trent, that was just downright adorable.

“Well, why don’t I just show you?” he said playfully, pulling his phone from his pocket with a twinkle in his eye. He stretched his arms out and held his phone upright, not even needing to touch the screen for it to flicker to life.

Trent felt a warmth fill his chest when he saw your eyes light up with the screen. He would tell Ted about you eventually, but right now, he was happy to have you all to himself.

[soemthingsparkly]

Came here from ao3 after binging your entire fic, thus far, in but a few hours. one i gotta say I absolutely love it and I love how well you express emotions as well as giving a well balanced amount of hurt/comfort and humour throughout

Secondly, hi how was your day, is there anything you wanna rant about but haven't had a reason or opportunity to do so?

Okay so this has been sitting in my inbox for the past few weeks because while it's a really lovely message about the fic, I have been saving this opportunity to rant about something that I've not had a reason or opp to do so and–

okay wait first of all

Thank you SO MUCH that is so fricking kind and I'm so glad to hear that. I pride myself on being able to tackle character trauma and hurting in a way that I hope feels human and real. That's why there's so much humour in this fic that actually has quite a lot of what might be considered upsetting/painful character lore.

Humour is a popular and prominent coping mechanism for a reason and I think that it's more realistic for characters to just go about their daily lives as they would normally and get suddenly reminded of/impacted by something triggering/upsetting without it being something that's always on the surface.

So yeah, I'm genuinely really glad that this concept of balancing the hurt and humour has been brought up a lot in comments and messages, because that is something that I really want to achieve with this fic.

So thank you so much!

Secondly!

I talk about being a freelance writer pretty often these days and something that always bugs me is when I go to places like Reddit and other freelance forums and ask how people stay motivated with the work and they answer

'The need to pay my bills 😂😂😂'

like TELL ME YOU DONT HAVE ADHD WITHOUT TELLING ME YOU DONT HAVE ADHD

Anyway it's just absolutely frustrating as hell for me, because it's NOT good advice and it's NOT helpful. I'd so rather people just stay quiet and not answer than reply with that. Of course I also have bills to pay but if I have just enough money to cover my rent next month, my brain isn't going to kick into gear.

Anyway it's really frustrating.

That being said does anyone want to buy any Hermit Coffee Co. related merch?

[that-wizard-oki]

Just wanted to say that I’ve been following you for a *while* and even though I don’t use Tumblr very much or interact with the wizzy fandom anymore, I still have your notifications on and whenever I see a post from you, it sparks joy.

Also little posts you write about your experiences working with KI give me a lot of hope. I’m a student and recently did a whole major-change thing so that I’m now studying with the end-goal of entering the video game industry, and seeing stuff you post gives me a weird sense of hope (I don’t know if that’s the right word- I just got home from a 10-hour shift that was preceded by 3 lectures so it’s a bit foggy in my brain. Just wanted to say this now because I know that if I didn’t do it now, I would keep putting it off).

Just wanted to say thank you. You make a lot of peoples’ days brighter. :)

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a few days and I just wanted to say it made me cry real tears the first time i read it. To be frank I've had a really, really tough past 6 or so months with my health issues. There was a brief time where I wasn't sure if I could work it was so bad, which of course was an awful thought to have just starting out at KI. I've been through lots of shit in my life, but one thing that always grounded me was this community. It's both an escape from reality, but also has allowed me to connect with people even when I couldn't get out of bed, both in the past, and now. I'm doing a decent amount better now, but I can still be hard not to get in your own head about things, and for a good many months earlier this year, I felt like I couldn't escape my own mind and body. It was scary, and still is at times.

But messages like this really put into perspective how my presence has an impact on others. The notion that people i've never really met who look forward to my little posts and content honestly keep me going when things get tough. It so small but gives me reason to not give up. I want to keep going for you all.

Pardon the sappy talk, but genuinely, thank you anon. I have no doubt in my mind you'll achieve your own goals in the industry, and I would love to support you and any others as much as I can who're in a similar boat.

I love you all so much <3