#This page took me a long time because Oh my GOD THERE WAS SO MUCH DETAIL and OF COURSE I woke up with a headache this morning

[strohller27]

TIME & TIME AGAIN - Page 7

START | Page 6 | Page 8

Admiral Poirot. Beloved. You are So Verbose are We *Sure* Hastings is going to Remember All This??? Also. How did you know Hastings was an Excellent Pilot as a cadet Admiral. How did you KNOW THAT ADMIRAL???

Shoutout to @darthlenaplant, @soldhissoulforrocknroll, and @rain-shoshana for encouraging these shenanigans, and thanks so much to everyone who's been reblogging the pages!! (Let me know if you'd like me to add you to the shoutout so you'll be notified when I update!)

Hi! If you like this story, please consider dropping some pocket change in my tip jar on ko-fi!

Cover Page (Go here to read summary / jump to any page) Background lore/teaser post

[rhyrhy]

Something Like Sin

Older!Farmhand! Abby x perv!farmers daughter R

CONTAINS: rough draft for a fic idea I had. MDNI. Religious guilt, impure thoughts, short.

She does it on purpose. You swear she does.

The lift of her shirt to swipe sweat from her forehead. Being sure you’re in her line of sight while she works. The small touches when passing by.

How could one woman weaken your resolve so much?

How, after a long day of doing nothing but giving your wet dreams more fuel, could she step into the main house and “report back”?

Listing everything she took care of—

That wobbly fence your belt loop always seemed to catch on. The left tire on your daddy’s truck that made that god-awful squeak when started in the early morning.

Everything but the small flicker of amusement she’d get when she caught your stare—or even just felt it.

The grumbling of your father’s “Sounds good, thanks again, Abbigail,” seeming more frequent than before.

Didn’t she fix that fence last week?

The only relief was writing it out.

The dark green journal that stayed tucked in the back pocket of worn jeans. Pages of thoughts, frustrations, fantasies.

And hidden in the back pages— Not passwords to the Wi-Fi, or the lockbox— Your feelings. The real ones. About her. Starting innocently from last summer, when she filled in for her father.

Jerry did honest work. Only lived a few roads down—he was the first person you called when things went belly-up. But he’s older now. Knees don’t work as well. So naturally, she came.

Quiet. Worked quickly. Efficient. Good hands are always welcome on the hundreds of acres your family owned.

Months of torture.

Farmhands came and went—but not her. She—Abbigail—always came back.

In your dreams.

And in the back pages of that journal.

June 5th, 2025

“She said she liked the top I was wearing last night. The one I swore I’d never wear again because of how tight it felt across my chest. But her eyes—they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough to make me feel bare. I didn’t sleep after that.”

God, you prayed she never read that one. But what was a girl like you calling on Him for? Impurities like that didn’t deserve His protection.

Sinners only thrive when hidden in the comfort of shadows.

When the sun greets the sky, the mask takes its place— In the form of the farmer’s daughter.

She made supper every evening, brought water to those helping hands, leaned into her daddy’s kisses on the forehead.

So busy being the golden girl, you—so worn—you didn’t notice that your back pocket was empty as you entered the house. Sleeping peacefully in your mattress. Farm dog Gracie barking occasionally when cars passed in the distance.

All while the green spine cracked open—

By fingers that didn’t hold the pen that stained the pages. With an ease, nothing rushed—like it had been done millions of times.

The pages flipped until their heart’s content.

Those same eyes watched you the next morning, messy hair falling as you lifted from your bed. In full view of the bay window warming the room.

The new day dances around you. Smiles and “you’re welcome”s, as usual. Until a voice sent panic striking through you like lightning.

“Not doodling in those pages of yours this mornin’?” your father said as you reached the bottom of the stairs, still slightly sleep-ridden.

No caffeine could wake someone faster. Your hand flew to your pockets. Eyes widening as the words stuck in your throat.

Where is it? Why didn’t I double-check last night? Did someone else find it? Your mind raced.

“Oh sweetheart, relax—you probably left it in your room,” your mother called out from the kitchen

Before they could say another word, the screen door flew open. Your boots crunched the gravel, bolting for the barn. You’d been there last night, writing to your heart’s content. Dreams of the future. Leaving the fields behind one day. Sending postcards to Momma with different cities attached.

But those weren’t the ones you were worried about.

A heaving chest and shaky fingers reached for the rusted latch. Greeted by moos, and Gracie sleeping near the ladder. Eyes searched the wooden floors, hands and knees warming as you looked.

And looked.

Where the hell is it? The furrow in your eyebrow deepened as did the pit in your stomach.

“You alright?” a voice called out a few feet away.

Your body jerked, a small gasp leaving you. Not expecting anyone else to be here. So early anyhow. Slowly lifting your head, trailing up the woman who almost seemed to have appeared.

Heavy boots, dark-washed jeans. That thick brown belt, silver buckle. A white beater lifted just enough to see that blonde happy trail that made your thighs squeeze together.

“Jesus, you scared me—yeah, I’m alright.”

You glanced to the woman with a quirked eyebrow at your position. Realizing how ridiculous you must’ve looked, you pushed to your feet. Hands dusting off your knees.

“Good morning, Ms. Anderson.” You stood slightly awkwardly, with a small head nod.

“I always tell you that just Abby is fine.” She smiled. “But good mornin’” The silence stretched out. Abby cleared her throat and spoke once more. “What are you looking for… in here?”

“Nothing, I just… thought I lost something in here. And now that I’ve checked… I’ll be on my way.” You gave a small smile, shifting to turn on your heels. Unable to hold that eye contact any longer.

“You sure?” “Because I found this—“ short fingers grazed something as she turned, reaching behind her. “on the floor.”

There it was. Thank God. Maybe He was listening.

“Oh! Thank you—little squirrel brain of mine sometimes.” A joke you forced out.

She huffed at the attempt and hummed “Don’t mention it.”

Your fingers brushed as you went to take it from her. Your heart rammed against your ribs. Pausing when she lifted it again slightly like she’d changed her mind. Eyes flickered to her face, meeting hers. Your hand now left with nothing as she teased it backwards. Only you heard her say—

“The way she moves—like she knows time will wait for her.” You froze. Your breath caught. Abby only tilted her head “That’s pretty, y’know? Like poetry.”

Oh, how sweet, you thought. Yet, Your heart pounded louder. How far did she read?

“Thank you…It’s nothing really. Just something I do when I’m bored.” You barely managed the words. They sounded distant, hollow in your mouth—like they belonged to someone else. Your hand closed around the journal like a secret you couldn’t bury fast enough. And then you turned. Quick. Too quick. Boots scraping against the barn floor. already vowing to be more careful next time.

That was a close one. Just leave, get this book of sin from her. Wanting to throw lighter fluid on it even. However, before you could make your escape she continued, the words burning in the light—

“Her eyes lingered. Just for a second. Long enough to make me feel bare.” Then with a small chuckle “That’s the line, ain’t it?”

Her silky voice cut through the air behind you, amusement wrapped around every word. You stopped cold. Turned slowly. “Didn’t sleep after that, huh?”

“What—what did you—” you stammered. “Oh lord—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to read—”

She cut you off with a soft laugh, stepping closer. “It’s alright, really”

“That’s a filthy little thought for a girl who says good morning like a church bell.” Her eyes flicked to the journal still clutched in your guilty hands.

“What else keeps you up at night, sweetheart?”

[harrietswriting]

Hii! Could you do a dally x reader where he comes to pick her up for a date but she’s no where near ready, so he just comes up to her room to sit and watch her and looks through all her stuff and makeup? Thank you <3

an: Such a cute request thank you!! this took way too long and I don't even like it that much I'm sorry 😭 1.1k words. Please leave more requests

W: little swearing I think, flufff

Dallas Winston x fem!reader

He watches you get ready

You had woken up late.

You have a breakfast date with Dallas at 8:30 and you woke up at 8:06. You practically had a heart attack when you saw the time. Stupid alarm didn't go off! What the hell! Was it trying to sabotage your relationship? You had brushed your teeth, finished your skin care, and started to take your curlers out when your door bell rang. Oh God. You rushed to answer it. You were so embarrassed. You were panicky, flushed, in a robe, and had half of your curlers still in your hair. So, it was not a surprise to see the look of concern on your boyfriend's face when you opened the door.

"I'm so sorry! My stupid alarm didn't go off and I only woke up like 25 minutes ago," you say quickly, trying to explain your state. You felt awful.

"Woah, hey. It's fine." Dallas steps inside. "Go finished getting ready."

"It's going to take me a while." You say sadly.

"That's fine. Just means I get to spend more time with you." He says simply.

You can't help but smile. "Okay."

"Or you could just go like this. Its a great look." He teases, glancing at your hair.

You roll your eyes, but a smile is plastered on your face. "Be quiet. C'mon." You grab his hand and drag him to your bedroom. Once inside, you let go of his hand and side down at your vanity. You resume taking out your curlers.

Dallas sits down on the edge of your bed and watches you as you carefully brush you your curls then spray some hair spray on them. Then, you get out your makeup.

Dallas finds himself getting bored just watching you, so he gets up and walks over to your bookshelf. He studies the titles for a bit, recognizing books he's seen you read. You glance over at him as he opens your jewelry box and looks through it.

"What're you doing?" You ask as you watch him.

He turns his head towards you. "I don't know. Lookin'." He shrugs and turns his attention back to your jewelry. He a small smile appears on his face as he finds pieces he gave you.

"Okay." You look into your mirror again and resume blending your concealer.

Dallas fingers through your necklaces and bracelets for a few moments before getting bored again. He closes the jewelry box and walks over to you. He is about to talk to you when he spots your journal, so he picks it up and opens it.

It takes you a moment to notice what he did. "Uh- hey! That's my journal, Dallas." You reach for it, but he holds it out of your reach.

"So?" He scans a page and annoyingly smirks.

"So that's private stuff." You get out of your chair and try to grab it again, and this time, surprisingly, he lets you. What did he read?

"What?" You ask because his stupid smirk doesn't leave his face.

"Nothing." His smirk remains and his hands slide into his pockets. "You write sappy shit in your journal."

You blush a little and put your journal back. "Yeah, cause it's supposed to be private." You respond, sitting at your vanity again. "Now stop distracting me or this'll become a lunch date."

He sighs and mopes back over to your bed. He sits down again and looks at your reflection in the mirror. He thinks you are absolutely beautiful. God, he'd do anything for you, and that scares him sometimes.

"Hurry up. I'm hungry." He tells you.

"I'm sorry, Dal. I'm trying."

"Mhm." He messes with his ring for a bit before getting up and walking back over to you. He leans down and grabs your jaw. He kisses your cheek then lets go. You can't help but smile.

"You look damn good, babe." He runs a hand through your hair as you turn your head towards him.

"Thank you." Your heart picks up a little. "I'm almost done with my makeup, then I'll just need to change."

"Good. Chop chop, come on." He urges you.

You laugh a little and do the last of your makeup. Dallas watches with such admiration. You're gorgeous. When you finally finish and look at him, he can't stop himself from smiling.

"I'm done." You say

"Finally. Go get dressed."

You put your hands out. "Help me up, baby."

He huffs in protest, but he grabs your hands and pulls you up and against his chest. Dallas stares down at you. He finds your smile is so infectious. He grins back. You stand on your tippy toes and peck his lips.

"I thought I was supposed to hurry up, love." You squeeze his hands.

"You are." He lets go of your hands. "Go change, doll."

You let out a small giggle and start to walk toward the closet. You look over your shoulder at him. "I got a new dress a few weeks ago that I haven't gotten to where yet. It's real pretty."

He smirks at this, his ego spikes when he learns he'll be the first to see you in this dress. "I can't wait to see it, y/n."

You open the closet door and step in. You get out the dress. A cute baby blue cocktail dress with a white accent and a white bow around the waist. You come out and proudly hold it up.

"Put it on, doll."

"Okay." You go into the closet again and close the door, you take off your robe and slip into the dress. You were careful not to mess up your hair or makeup. A cute pair of white heels you hadn't wore in awhile catch your eye, so you slip them on. You open the door of the closet. Dallas has your journal in his hands again. He looks up and smirks.

"Sorry, doll. Couldn't help it." He puts the journal back then let's his eyes scan over you.

You sigh and decide to forgot it, for now. You smile again. "How do I look?"

He walks closer to you and his hands find your waist. "You look incredible."

Your face heats up and you look down, your smile remains.

"Ready to go?" He puts a hand on your chin and gently lifts your head to have you look up at him.

You nod. "I'm sorry again that i wasnt ready and-"

"Sh, baby, I don't care."

You shyly smile, glad he doesn't care, and loving being called "baby". He takes your hand and off you finally go to your breakfast date.

An: I'm so excited for Christmas I'm tweaking out. I love gift giving so much. Please leave requests! Happy holidays!!

[shunsuiken]

HOW THE GENSHIN MEN ASK FOR YOUR ATTENTION

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, kazuha, thoma, ayato, alhaitham, cyno x gn!reader

genre. fluff (the boys are clingy <3) + they are all so in love with u god wtf get a room pls + minor spoilers for ayato’s story quest kinda (saying this just in case but idt it spoils that much) 

wc. 300-500 words for each character 

an. i literally forgot this piece existed… last time i edited it was 2021 can u believe omg 💀 (i unearthed this thing two months ago or sth) originally it was dckz + ayato, kazuha and thoma but now i’ve added alhaitham and cyno too + also it is SO SO canon that kaeya calls reader snowflake yup yup! also zhongli is so clingy here dear god oh to have this man yearn for my attention <//3

kaeya alberich

kaeya had been sitting in his seat for far too long (it’s really only been a minute) and decided that he needed some fresh air. being captain of the knights of favonius really took so much time out of his beautiful day. he sighed and easily reattached his fur cape onto his collar with one hand before he began to seek you.

he strode down the streets of mond, greeting the locals with his charming smile. but there was still no sign of you yet! perhaps if he took one more round in the city centre he’d find you…

“i think that’s it for me, thanks blanche!” you were about to take your bag of goods from the counter when you felt two arms snake around your waist. “huh—”

you turned around confused until you saw who it was, a relieved sigh then leaving your lips.

“hello snowflake,” he greeted you with a smile reserved only for you.

“kaeya, hi.” your face brightened at the sight of your lover, hands resting on his biceps. “what are you doing here?” you could feel his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, a habit you noticed he did every time his hands were on you.

he made a melodramatic sigh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “my love, i’ve been looking for you everywhere.” he felt himself recharging with every second you were with him. “my day is beautiful again now that i’m with you, what are you doing here anyway?”

“i was buying things for… dinner,” you said the last part quietly, cheeks warming because you’ve never really cooked for kaeya before but the idea happened to cross your mind earlier in the afternoon, hence why he found you at the general goods shop. “wanna join me?”

“for dinner?” kaeya removed himself from your neck, raising a brow. “are you going to cook for us both?” he asked, tone ending in a teasing lilt. his voice made your knees melt.

you purse your lips in an embarrassed manner, nodding your head. “if you’re free after—”

“now, now—” kaeya shook his head, swiftly taking your bag of goods from the counter before snaking his free arm around your waist again. “—you know i always have time for you, snowflake.”

diluc ragnvindr

you were by the couch in front of a fire, reading through a book that’s caught your attention for the past hour. it was usually around this time that you would visit diluc in his office to ask for cuddles but… you never came.

thus diluc made the courageous decision to seek your attention. he made his way out of his office and down the staircase, spotting your figure sitting on the couch. your nose was so far up the pages in your book that you didn’t even hear his footsteps.

“have you had dinner yet, my dear?” your eyes snapped away from the book, revealing your face and warm cheeks to diluc. you shut your book softly, not forgetting to bookmark the page you left off.

“i haven’t, i was so caught up in my book i didn’t realise,” you said, naturally not realising what diluc was here for. he was a tad bit unimpressed with how you forgot to visit him; he was expectantly waiting for your cuddles, staring at his office door and focusing on the sounds outside to identify which footsteps were yours. but none of them were.

“was it the book you bought from our journey in liyue?” diluc inquired, casually plopping his head on your lap. his messy ponytail became even messier but that was fine, he knew you would offer to redo it for him later.

your fingers acted on their own as they gently carded through his soft crimson locks. “it was,” you replied in a whisper. then his eyes suddenly locked with yours and it startled you so you had to ask what was wrong.

“is that why you didn’t visit my office for the past three hours?” he deadpanned at you, jokingly of course. when the man discovered that you had grown fond of this reaction, he couldn’t help but make the face more often.

you laughed and the corners of diluc’s lips tugged upwards in a smile. but what caught him off guard as he was lovingly gazing up at you was when you began pinching his cheeks.

“your expressions are so cute, if only everyone else could see them.” diluc tried to conceal his blush, clearly working to no avail because you seemed to laugh louder as he averted his gaze elsewhere.

“i won’t forget to visit you next time.” you leaned down to plant a kiss on his forehead, grinning in satisfaction when diluc’s cheeks completely camouflaged with his hair.

zhongli

zhongli was in need of something from you. as he sat in his usual spot at third-round knockout, his head could not stop turning about, perking up to the slightest calls from one person to another. where were you? he normally saw you running around this area at this time.

but of course! on the day zhongli needed something from you, you coincidentally weren’t around. if the adeptus had learnt anything during his time on teyvat, it was that the world really knew how to test one's patience. he sighed inwardly, about to revert his attention back to iron tongue tian until he saw the figure of your head amongst the crowd of people walking around.

the poor adeptus almost spit out the tea he was supposed to swallow, and after apologising to nobody for his poor etiquette, he stood up and rushed over to you.

“y/n! y/n, hello,” zhongli greeted you warmly with that smile on his face that made him look like a happy puppy that found his owner.

your expression softened at the familiar call of your name, knowing immediately who the voice belonged to. grinning, you thought it was adorable. which made you reciprocate his energy.

“my dear, the look on your face is making me believe you’ve done something audacious.” you raised a brow, looking at him up and down suspiciously.

zhongli’s heart churned, this was it! the look that did something to his poor heart made him unable to contain the expression that crept up to his face. he was waiting the whole day for you! and now that you’re here giving him what he wanted, he just couldn’t quell the excitement surging through his veins.

was he blushing? was he just hot from the weather? whatever the look on his face was, you were still absolutely stunned. never in your time with zhongli had he made a face like this before. 

you quite liked it.

“hm…” you tilted your head, looping your arm with zhongli’s. he heard the playful tone in your voice and he was living for it. “it seems that mr zhongli of the wangsheng funeral parlour is in need of some entertainment. might i borrow you this afternoon, dearest?”

zhongli nodded his head (with such enthusiasm too, there were practically stars in his eyes!). his smile was accompanied by the light blush dusted across his cheeks, arm tingling when it came in contact with yours. “of course dear, my time is yours.”

childe

you were by wanmin restaurant, chatting it up with xiangling about her newest dish you were just obsessed with. you wanted to order it again for takeaway but those incoming footsteps from behind you were quite concerning. so you turned around in curiosity because why is someone running to you at such speed?

“my looove!” oh.

you chuckled, opening your arms to accept childe into your embrace. “now what are you doing here?” you greeted as he nuzzled his face into your neck, feeling him softly exhale on your skin while his arms wrapped snugly around your waist.

“i’m not allowed to come see you when i want to? that’s so unfair of you.” childe pouted, removing himself from your neck.

“thought you’d be out ‘til the evening so i wasn’t expecting you,” you reply, briefly combing his hair down from its usual wildness. “oh! have you returned from a spar?” you bid xiangling a goodbye before heading out with ajax.

“i have! and…” the bright look on his face quickly dissipated when he showed you his upper arm after rolling up a bit of his sleeve. “i got just a little carried away in the process.” ajax looked at you with his blue eyes that feigned pain. “fix me up?” he suggested meekly.

who were you to say no to that? of course you would help your lover patch up his wounds. so after walking over to your home, you sat ajax on a chair and told him to stay put to which he replied with an animated nod of the head.

you returned with a first aid kit, quickly dabbing alcohol on his cut before bandaging him up. normally ajax never came to you with any wounds after sparring so this was a little unusual—but he was human. he would get hurt.

while you were in your little bubble of thoughts, childe was practically vibrating in his seat. the toothy grin on his face brighter than the sun that shone upon liyue, he finally had you all to himself now! and you were patching him up, these results were much better than he could’ve imagined. he’s always wished of being aided by you, since your touch was so gentle and warm.

he leaned into you, placing his forehead on your shoulder. and like a kitten he nuzzled his face into your neck. “missed you,” he mumbled, although muffled you understood what he said. pulling him further into your embrace, you let your warmth surround him. “missed you too.”

kaedehara kazuha

kazuha sits idly by a tree in liyue, whistling softly to greet the sight of the serene horizon. the sun rises gradually and soon, so will you. he lets the leaf he was playing with fly with the morning breeze, getting up to greet you a good morning.

kazuha knows just how far the sun has to hover above the horizon to know when you begin stirring out of your slumber. he enters the inn and takes the staircase to your room you booked, opening the door to find you stretching on the bed.

“good morning, my love.” his sweet voice makes your head snap upwards, your expression brightening at his presence. “morning, kazu.” you open your arms, inviting him in for a hug and he plays right into your little trap when you pull his body on top of yours.

kazuha yelps in surprise, face smacking into your pillow as he’s slotted right beside your face. he lifts his head up, shaking his head slightly in fondness. his baby hairs tickle your cheek. “you’ve just woken up but you already have the energy to play tricks like this.”

you snake your arms around his waist, pulling him flat against your body. “that’s what makes life fun, kazu.” you nuzzle your face into his warm neck. “but i might have to cut this moment short, boss needs me at the restaurant.”

what. kazuha blinks owlishly at nothing in particular. what do you mean your boss needs you at work right now? no. nope! kazuha doesn’t like the turn of events. he swears today is your day off!

“i thought you had the day off?” he raises a brow at you, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“i was supposed to but boss came over last night when you went to buy us dinner and practically begged on her knees for me to go to work.” your voice is laced with amusement as you remember the look on your boss’ face. “apparently two other employees had last minute plans they couldn’t cancel.” you remove your hands from his waist to place them on his cheeks.

kazuha doesn’t normally make such expressions so when your eyes land on his face, you can’t help but coo. “well we may stop by for some breakfast before i leave.”

his expression doesn’t improve.

you purse your lips. you’re trying your absolute hardest to contain your laughter. “i’ll ask boss to give me another day off? so i’ll have two days off to spend with you.”

kazuha shakes your hands off his cheeks so he can nuzzle his face into the juncture of your neck. “your boss should learn to keep her promises.”

thoma

“y/n! would you like me to make those pastries from yesterday?” thoma’s face pops up from behind the book you’re reading. you smile and put the book down momentarily.

“that would be love—”

“oh oh! what about those cakes from two days ago? i recall you saying that it was delicious for afternoon tea or i could make you—”

you stifle a laugh. to be honest, it has been a while since you two met up due to your busy schedules so his hyper attitude right now is understandable. but you don’t think you can have a proper conversation like this so you decide to mess with him. pulling a business smile on your face, you say, “good afternoon, commissioner.”

“h- huh?! good afternoon, my lord—” but when thoma lifts his head to greet his lord, he isn’t there. his brows furrow, whipping his head around to see the mischievous look on your face.

“y/n! that wasn’t funny.” he blushes at your teasing, pouting unintentionally in response.

you chuckle, raising your fingers to pinch both of his cheeks. “you can be so naive around me. it's adorable, thoma.”

the use of his name makes him gulp embarrassingly loud. in his kneeling position, he holds onto your wrists that now cup his warm cheeks. “i- i was just wondering if you wanted any cakes! my lord said i’m free for the rest of the afternoon so i thought—” thoma exhales shakily from your intense gaze before continuing, “—i thought i would be of service to you today.” he ends his sentence with a smile, bringing his gaze to meet yours.

your heart pounds in your ears. maintaining composure around your beloved one soon became difficult after time passed. but you learnt that letting your walls down for him was worth it.

“then let’s make those cakes together. didn’t you say you would help me improve my baking skills?” you take his hand from your wrist to guide both of you on your feet.

he nods his head like an obedient puppy. “i did!”

“then let’s head to my kitchen.”

kamisato ayato

it is rare for kamisato ayato to leave the main office. oftentimes he is drowned under paperwork that needs him to provide his official signature or input for upcoming events. however, ever since you came around, even the commissioner’s most capable retainer finds himself at a loss when in search of his lord.

the only reason ayato even leaves his office is because he hears the echo of your voice entering the estate after your afternoon walk around the city with your ladies in waiting. with swift movement, ayato relocates his work from his office into yours.

when you slide the shoji open, you flinch at the sight of the figure who’s been awaiting your arrival for the past hour (ayato’s distracted himself by busying his mind with official documents). 

“welcome home, darling,” ayato greets you while his gloved fingers continue to sign pages with his brush, ink gliding over the documents smoothly.

heat rises to your face at the pet name. you promptly dismiss your ladies in waiting before they can see the expression on your face, maintaining it to the best of your abilities until they are gone.

“have you been here this whole time?” you slide the shoji shut behind you.

ayato raises his gaze from the document to flash you a smile. “yes i have.”

unfortunately for him, you don’t miss the cheeky glint in his eye. sitting down beside him, you scold him jokingly with a pointed finger. “tsk, you’re lying. i just saw thoma bring out your tea set from your office.”

“oh.” the single syllable word is emphasised by his lips that form an ‘o’ shape.

you don’t realise you’re holding in a laugh until it bursts out of you at the sight of him acting like this. ayato’s posture relaxes as your laughter fills your office. he puts his brush down to pull you closer to him so he can lay his forehead on your shoulder while an arm wraps around your waist.

“did you happen to bump into someone on your afternoon walk?” ayato’s eyes flutter shut, fatigue finally hitting him when your warm palm rises to caress his cheek.

strands of his hair tickle your chin as you reply, “yes, i met lady hiiragi near uyuu restaurant. she said she was waiting for one of her retainers.”

“you mean you spotted lady hiiragi on a secret outing with sir kujou.” ayato doesn’t fail to correct you, the corner of his lip rising in amusement.

you gasp knowingly, patting your lips to correct your words. “indeed that is what i saw.” you nod with a smile. “no wonder she was wearing such an atrocious looking kimono and styled her hair… like that. she was disguising herself.”

ayato lifts his head to meet your gaze and jokes, “i can only imagine what sir kujou was wearing.” 

your eye twitches, a grimace appearing on your expression. “i’d rather not.”

the yashiro commissioner can only chuckle at your reaction. ah, he just loves it when you’re around.

alhaitham

the akademiya’s scribe is a rather quiet man. he only opens his mouth when necessary. for example, when his roommate, who cannot stop blabbering about a rather irritating client, comes waltzing through the hall, disturbing the peace of the scribe’s reading time, does he open his mouth to shoot him a sharp “shut up.”

another example is when a certain knock on the door is heard and kaveh goes to answer it.

“kaveh, hello! is alhaitham home?” it’s you.

the scribe is on his feet immediately. the blond yelps when he is shoved out of the way to make space for your lover, who greets you with a gentle smile. the book from earlier is now left disregarded on the chair.

“my dear, you’re here.”

alhaitham finds it difficult to stay quiet around you. there’s just always something to say when you’re right next to him. like right now as he offers his arm out for you to hold, before promptly announcing that he and you will take a stroll around the city. kaveh only gapes at the unusual behaviour of his roommate. poor man can never get used to it. you offer him an apologetic smile before leaving with alhaitham.

you sigh, patting on your lover’s arm scoldingly. “be nicer to that roommate of yours, did you see the stunned look on his face?”

“don’t look at his face, dear, it’ll stress you out,” alhaitham says bluntly as he takes the path towards treasures street.

you have to cover your own mouth before a sound so unbecoming can leave it.

alhaitham takes pride in how he can make you laugh. he loves watching your eyes twitch and how you purse your lips to contain the boisterous reaction, how you have the self-control to maintain your composure in public despite wanting to cackle loudly like a maniac. knowing he can prompt such a reaction out of you makes him huff proudly when he’s alone with his ear pieces in.

but right now, his ear pieces are turned off. he finds himself carrying the conversation as you and him find seats in the audience, waiting for a scheduled performance hosted by the zubayr theatre. he keeps you close to him as you squeal in excitement when the lights dim for nilou to appear on the stage.

alhaitham finds himself speechless when he yearns for your presence. the most he can do is pull up that smile on his face and pray to lesser lord kusanali that you’ll see the faint twinkle in his eye that is telepathically asking for your attention. the man doesn’t even realise he’s doing the latter, that’s just his unconscious bodily response.

fortunately, the dendro archon is of kind nature, and what archon of kind nature would ignore the prayer of one of her most loyal followers?

cyno

the general mahamatra comprehends his silent need for your presence when he takes a quiet stroll through caravan ribat. he misses you and your curiosity—your hand that grabs his wrist to take him to a stall that has trinkets and things that have caught your eyes or how you’re so quick on your feet to run to the next thing that shines in your field of vision.

cyno stops in his tracks, staring at the path that would show him out of caravan ribat and into the greenery that leads towards the city.

he could leave right now.

you know your lover has a demanding job so you obviously don’t get in his way with distractions. but when your head snaps to your right side at the sight of your lover donned in his usual attire, walking towards you with a rather intriguing look on his face, you have to burst his bubble of personal space.

“cyno, what are you doing here? i thought you had something to do at caravan ribat.” cyno only smiles gently, offering his hand out for you to take, which you do.

“work is finished,” he tells you, bringing you closer. “and i missed your company, my love.” he whispers lowly, gaze pouring into yours.

you raise your brows, gulping, making you break eye contact with him to stare at the interesting potted-plant behind him instead. “cyno it’s only been four days since we last saw each other.”

“that does not change anything.” cyno tilts his head to find your pretty eyes again, a crease appearing in between his brows as he stifles a laugh. “my love, my eyes are here.” and he only pulls you by your waist when you act like you don’t hear him.

he’s so insufferable.

“hm, it’s a lovely day today, how about a round of TCG with me?”

your head snaps in his direction. an expression of disbelief takes over your face completely. “are you serious? you come back after four days and you ask me if i wanna play—”

a smug look grows on cyno’s face as you complain. then it clicks in your head and you click your tongue, folding your arms and looking away. “go and play with your friends then, i can just go to treasure’s street and—”

“oh come now, love, you know that was a joke, right? or do you want me to explain what my true intentions are? because if you would like to know then i’m happy to mmph—” cyno grins into the kiss you give him, effectively shutting him up. perhaps this is what he wanted in the first place.

you pull back, heat rushing to your cheeks at your own actions but really, you miss your lover. so that seemed to be the most appropriate thing to do at that moment.

“dinner. we will have dinner.” cyno relishes in the way you grab his hand, squeezing it as you lead him towards puspa cafe.

[yubellia]

Tales of a traveling Creator…. „Am I an author now?…“

Imagine that we, the creator, finally made it back home. Back home to Teyvat that is. „Because this is where you belong, your grace!~“…. Yeah… great.

Actually, life is pretty sweet. Sure, there are certain things we don‘t have in Teyvat but… we can look past that. Mostly.

The characters don‘t know that for us, all of this was a game. Literally a video game. And there were many others too.

Now imagine how it must feel to never see your favorite show or cartoon again. How it feels to never play your favorite games again. (Especially if you know that a series would get a new game or season soon…. Gosh the horror!)

One day, you notice how your memories of these things start to fade. You forget the name of a character. Small things. But it’s scary enough to make you do something. You do the next best thing.

„Somebody bring me empty notebooks and writing tools! Hurry!“ Your always loyal followers almost run over each other to get what you requested.

And so starts the time period of none stop writing. Really. You carry notebooks everywhere. You start to write down the plot of your favorite games, shows, movies. You name it.

Until one day, because it had to happen, someone asked you where this enthusiasm came from. You and some of the other archons were having tea and snacks in inazuma. Ei insisted that you had to come for a visit again. Zhongli, your loyal shield („shield for what?“ „better be safe than sorry.“), Nahida was there too. Naturally considering that she is pretty much your daughter. Ei brought Miko with her and that’s when it happened.

„Your grace? I heard you always carry these notebooks around these days. Would you be willing to share your thoughts with us? Hm?~“

Zhongli gave Miko a slightly stern look but you shook it off. „sure. Why not. You see, i noticed that i started to forget certain things. Books I read in the other world.“ (you had to think on how to put this.) „stage plays I saw, songs and the adventures I had in…. Other worlds.“ „you visited other worlds too? Like the traveler?“ „yes. I did. Just like with the traveler or you guys, I used…. ‚Vessels‘ and guided them through their adventures. And i started writing things down so that I won‘t forget.“ You showed them a picture. „I even used my powers to create images of the characters.“

Miko‘s ears started to twitch. „Oh my…. Would you mind if… I took a look at that?“

„Sure…. But wait. Not this one. Here. This story is finished.“

You take another notebook from your pocket and hand it over. Miko promises to take very good care of it and the others look on in jealousy.

That was a few weeks ago. You continued. You did everything you could. Even create pages with character sheets and detailed descriptions.

One day, there is a long line in front of a book store. You could hear the owner talk about the newest story.

„Witness the the tale of a chosen hero in a distant world! A fight between good and evil. An innocent child chosen by destiny and the gods! One of their graces many vessels in another realm. This is The legend of Zelda. Ocarina of Time.“

For a moment, you just stood there with your mouth slightly open… „Miko…. Why? Zhongli can you believe it?….. Zhongli?“

You didn’t get an answer because instead of next to you, Zhongli was waiting in line for a copy of the book…..

„Oh hello your grace! The people of Inazuma and Teyvat as a whole love the adventure of the young hero and the princess…. When I read it, I just new it would be a hit.“

You didn’t have it in you to be surprised when Miko showed up. Oh and Zhongli returned with a copy of the book soon after that.

„So… I am an author now?“

„Well, it would be a shame to keep you loyal readers hanging no? Also, I heard some people discuss the criteria for becoming someone worthy of your guidance.“

„Well fortunately Link and Zelda have enough adventures. And i visited enough worlds…..“

Once Zhongli is next to you again, you grab his sleeve and pull him away before others see you.

(Heaven forbid I tell them about Kingdom hearts. The legend of Zelda has enough lore to keep them busy.)

[venusrising91]

Gym-body

Pairing: Huta x Male reader

Genre: Smut 18+ mdni

Summary: You've always wanted a gym body. Your new trainer can help you achieve it—if you could only pry your eyes off his toned biceps for long enough to follow instructions. (Thank you to brattyboy for the request!)

Word count: 1,755 (2 pgs)

You weren’t sure if you could trust your own two eyes. It was pretty early and you hadn’t had any coffee yet. Only a bitter pre-workout drink. The interior of the gym was pretty dark. It was barely 6AM—the only available time-slot for the gym’s most highly reviewed and sought after personal trainer. He stood near the weights, looking suspiciously similar to the only boy you’ve ever had a crush on—Huta Lee. 

Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man. Tall and muscular. So carved that he could’ve been a Greek god. 

What the fuck was he doing here? 

You should’ve paid closer attention to the photos on his employee profile. In them, his face had been obscured by a mask but now, as you looked at his page on your phone again, huddled in the corner near the mirrors, you saw that the eyes staring out at you from within the screen were familiar. You could never forget those eyes: dreamy and dark.

“You my 6am client?” asked Huta, walking toward you with two dumb-bells. 

You had resolved to leave but…fuck. Too late to chicken out now.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” you replied, voice trembling.

“What are you doing hiding in the corner? Come out. I won’t bite.”

You pocketed your phone and shuffled over to him. Did he recognize you? You hoped not. He never took much notice of you in high-school. But you always noticed him. He’d gotten so much bigger since those teenage days—you could hardly believe this was the same scrawny Huta that you were so enamored with back then.

He eyed you as you stood before him, then asked, “So what area are you looking to strengthen?” As he said this, he assessed your body, dragging his gaze over your chest, your arms, then lower, lingering on your…fuck. 

                fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!

You were getting hard just off the sight of him, the outline of your arousal creating a tent in your shorts.

“Is that because of me?” asked Huta. You froze. He saw it? 

Your heart quickened, beating fast as you scrambled for a reply. 

Huta chuckled. “Relax, I’m just fucking with you. Certain pre-workout drinks make me hard, too. Some dudes get wood for a while because of the increased blood flow. Should wear off once we start warming up.”

You were so flustered that you didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Every word and sentence went right out of your head. All you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs—of Huta’s lips and eyes as they gazed out at you. Of his chiseled body and the faint traces of his cologne as it wafted through the air around you.

“I...I think I should go,” you said.

Huta chuckled again. “Oh come on, it’s just an erection, bro. It’ll wear off. Let's go, pick up the weights. We’ll do a few sets, take the edge off.”

You did as he said, albeit with a degree of reluctance.

 He guided you through a warm-up and a full body work-out. By the time it was over, you were still aching and erect. It had been so long since anyone touched you. And Huta had his hands on you, spotting you through most of the session. You practically raced out of the gym after finishing the last set.

For the rest of the day, he was all you could think about. At work, at dinner, in the shower.

Later that night in bed, you set your alarm and thought about the session as you lay there. Behind your closed eyes, Huta came into focus, the fantasy of being with him weaving itself to life in the blank space of your mind. You couldn’t resist touching yourself, and came hard to the thought of him—of his naked body, then drifted.

In the morning, he was there waiting for you in the gym. The workout was just as painstaking as yesterday’s. Twice he caught sight of the bulge between your legs, widening his eyes as he regarded it.

“Starting to think you’ve got a crush on me,” Huta said with a devious grin after spotting you for a round of sit-ups. 

You adjusted your shorts and rose, feeling too shy to respond. You didn’t trust the words that might spill from your lips. Around him, you felt so insecure and unsure of yourself, and just like the sight of your hardened cock, Huta noticed this, too. “Wait, don’t tell me you actually—”

“What if I do?” you blurted it out with no thought for consequences. 

The look in his eyes. What were you thinking saying something like that? You wanted to kick yourself. Quickly, you collected your gym bag and rushed through the doors. 

Huta shouted after you. 

Outside of your pulse roaring like a lion in your ears, you could hear nothing, and you refused to stop for clarification. Whatever he’d said, he could say it to your back.

At home, you tried to forget. It was all so stupid of you. Huta was just as unavailable to you now as he had been in high school. You considered quitting the gym, and you would have, but you’d already paid in advance for three more sessions. If you kept your mouth shut and your eyes down, maybe you could get through them without another foolish incident.

The next morning (following a restless night) you entered the gym and found Huta waiting. He was frowning. Your gazes met for a split second. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his expression didn’t look welcoming in the least.

He was short with you—ordering you around and giving you hard looks for the entirety of the session. During your last set, he glared at you, arms crossed.

“The other day. What was that about?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, y/n.”

Your name. He’d said your name. Your real name (you’d given him a fake one once you realized who he was) He knew you?

“You know who I—”

“Of course I do. Clocked you as soon as you walked through the doors for our first session. You haven’t changed a bit. Still as shy and awkward as ever. Thought you might’ve outgrown it. Guess I was wrong.”

You didn’t know what to say.  Seconds ticked by in silence. Then: “Why do you keep teasing me about my—”

“About your hard-on? Why do you think?”

“I-I-I…don’t—I…”

“Are you seriously that clueless?”

You couldn’t think straight, and gathered your belongings, then headed for the locker room. You needed to get away from him.

But he followed you inside.

The next few moments were a blur. Before you realized it, Huta had you pinned against one of the lockers, breathing down on you. He stood so close that the tips of your noses touched.

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. You were my biggest crush,” he said against your mouth.

All this time, he wanted you, too? 

Something unfurled in you, so many years of pent up passion and wanting bursting forth all at once to claim you. You reached into Huta’s sweatpants and took him in your hand. He groaned at the contact, throwing his head back.

“That’s it, just like that,” he whispered as you stroked him. After a few pulls he drew back. “Not here,” he said, panting. With this, he grabbed you by the wrist and led you out of the locker room.

He’d taken you to the showers. It was early, and there were barely any gym-goers present. Every stall was empty. Huta pulled back the curtain of one and ushered you inside. He had his mouth on you in an instant. Sucking and biting at your willing flesh.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” Huta said, trailing kisses across your chest. All you could do was moan as his lips and tongue traced lustful patterns against you. 

“I want you inside me,” you panted, breathless.

He took a break from kissing you and grinned, turning on the shower in the process. Each of you stripped off your clothing. Then slowly,  he reached behind you, and within moments, his fingers found your hole. He pushed at your entrance, gently. The water streamed over both of your naked bodies, providing a small amount of lubrication. Just not enough. 

You winced as his finger sank deeper into your tight ring of muscles.

“Loosen up, baby—relax, I won’t hurt you,” Huta said as he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your throat.

You grabbed hold of his erection as he finger fucked you, giving him tight fisted pumps. He moaned after each one, and in response, pushed his finger further into your depths. Your hole absorbed him, up to the knuckle. The pleasure made your eyes roll back.

He had you leaking all over the shower floor from the rhythm of his steady penetration.

“That’s it. Look how well you’re taking it. Good boy,” he said as he grabbed a handful of your ass, and spread your cheeks wider. He swirled his digit deeper inside of you. You almost came, and would have, but he stopped abruptly, easing his finger out of you. The sensation made you whimper and tremble. “Lean against the wall. I want to lick you.”

He didn’t wait for you to move, and shoved you against the tiles of the stall. Before you knew it, his tongue was inside of you, licking that delicate, forbidden place. He ate you like a main dish. Halfway through, he brought his hand around to tug on your hard cock. His efforts resulted in two back to back orgasms, each leaving you weaker than the last. By the third, you watched the thick ropes shooting down the drain in amazement. Stunned that your body had produced so much semen for him.

Huta would have given you a fourth orgasm, but you stopped him. 

“Had enough?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded. “Just about.”

“My turn, then. Get on your knees.”

You didn’t have to be told. You were longing to taste him. He made the most beautiful, ruined, helpless sounds as you swallowed his length, taking it to the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck, y/n, just like that. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Not even when you’d drained him of his load. He’d lost it quickly. You had been eager to please him. He praised you afterward, calling you a good boy, and showering you with compliments.

The two of you had made a mess in the shower stall. You bathed together, each working a lather on the other.

Back in the locker room, you dressed and exchanged what could only be described as coy pillow talk.

If every work-out was going to end like this, then you’d have the perfect gym body in no time. 

[hitomisuzuya]

Hi Suzu! How are you doing? I hope everything is fine 🫶🏽

Well, I'm a big fan of scummy Scara, maybe, can I ask for scummy Scara x reader, however, reader is also a scummy person, and Scara will discover this, probably he'll discover a secret obsession from us for him 🤫🤭, a smut or suggestive, as long as you feel comfortable writing, I hope you have a nice day.

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Scummy Scara. Journal descriptions of blow job, masturbation, degradation, sex. Filth. Yandere!Scara

Hello dear❤️ Thank you so much. I got a bit creative with this. Guys, I am nervous. I am pulling for Scara's C3 and weapon on his rerun.

Scaramouche knew your schedule like the back of his hand. What times you had which classes, when you would leave, the route you would take, and when you would be back. Tonight was one of the few evening classes he couldn't change his schedule to take the class too.

There was something he was dying to get his hands on. There was this one notebook you always, always carried with you. You never left it unattended. He gathered there was something personal about that notebook.

He had 95% of his classes with you, he always saw you writing in it. He could tell you weren't taking notes, because it looked like you weren't even listening to a word the teacher said during lectures.

What was going through your pretty little head? He had to know.

So, when he saw you leaving for your class without the notebook, he knew this was the only chance he would have. Was your head so far in the clouds that you left your dorm without it? His captivation with you increased even more thanks to his curiosity.

Each and every time he snuck into your room, never once did Scaramouche find the notebook. The first place he'd looked was your panty drawer. He didn't find it, however, he'd found a pair of panties and jacked himself off with them once he sprayed some of your perfume on them.

It only turned him on more knowing his cock would smell like you.

The scent of you enveloped him as he closed your dorm door behind him. He knew if anyone saw him sneaking into your room, they would be too pissed scared of him to call him out on it.

"Where oh where did you put it, kitten?" Scaramouche murmured as he crawled onto your bed. He was a pro at fixing your sheets back perfectly. The corner of something purple was sticking out underneath your blanket.

There it was!

Did he feel bad for snooping.

...

NOPE.

He stretched out on my bed, kicking some Squishmellows off your bed and onto the floor. He opened your notebook to a random page. His eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat as his read.

On the page, written in your handwriting was stuff about him. Explicit things written about him. His cock throbbed with every word he read, his eyes racing across the page:

Scaramouche sat next to me again today. I couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of my eye. I doubt I even heard a word the Professor said the entire lecture. All I could think about was sucking Scaramouche's cock underneath the desk. I wanted so badly to make it pulse and throb under my tongue, happily moaning as he grips my hair and forces my mouth down on it.

Scaramouche took out his cock, and stroked it as he read. You'd been staring off at nothing during class thinking about choking on his cock. How long had you been feeling this way?

During the very same class this entry was dated for, he'd been thinking about fingering you into a wet mess underneath your desk. He'd fantasized denying you your orgasm while he watched you struggle to keep your composure. You would lean in and whisper a plead for him to take you back to his dorm and make you cum.

God, he wanted to corrupt you so fucking bad. You were always so quiet, shy and innocent looking. A good girl who always did her assignments. A fucking nerd. Who knew you felt like this?

Scaramouche turned to another page. The intimate descriptions of fantasies you had about him continued. His cock felt almost painfully hard now as he read. His hips jerked to rut into his hand as he massaged the precum soaked head with his thumb.

You know that empty classroom no one uses? The one that's always locked? Every time I walk by it, I think about how much I want Scaramouche to bend me over one of the desks, his hand covering my mouth to muffle my moans while he pounds his cock into my pussy from behind. I may have to stop writing this to use my vibrator or finger myself. I am getting wet, and my clit is throbbing thinking about it while I write this.

I just know my cunt would squeeze around his cock if he spanked me, and told me to be a good girl and stay quiet while he empties his cock into me. I want him to tell me what a slut I look like with his cum seeping from my hole around his cock. What a whore I sound like muffling loud moans behind his hand.

Scaramouche had drop your notebook to put a hand over his mouth to muffle a moan as he fisted his cock. You started writing another sentence but abruptly stopped. "Ah fuck," He groaned, his cock throbbed as he pictured you desperately fingering your drooling pussy, your fingers skating wet over your clit. Twitching and moaning his name.

Biting the palm of his hand, Scaramouche picked up your notebook again. The pace of his hand increased when he read your next words:

Fuck, I can't make myself cum. No matter how much I finger myself. I need Scaramouche. I need him to make me cum. It's so frustrating. He is all I can think about. I am so in love with him that hurts.

I want to be his little fuck toy. I would worship him and his cock on my knees.

At that point, it became too much for Scaramouche. Cum spurted into into his hand. He laughed, soft and dark as he jacked himself off through his orgasm. How exhilarating to find out you wanted him just as badly he wanted you!

He took the notebook with him after he left your room. It would give him something to read until your class was over. After that, if he had it his way and he knew he would, you would end up in his room.

You wouldn't be leaving that night.

He had a fuck toy to tend to, after all.

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up, buttercups! 💕 Welcome back to chapter two of The Benchwarmer! First off—thank you so much for all the love and excitement you’ve shared for this story already. Seeing your reactions has been the absolute best, and I’m beyond excited to keep unfolding this journey with you!

Now, in case you’re wondering—will there ever be any intimate interactions between Reader and Auston? Oh, absolutely ✨ Have I made this a painfully slow burn that’s torturing even me with the suspense? Also yes🔥 Happy reading, my darlings! 💕✨

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, no warnings

Word count: 6.3K Chapter one

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter two: #MysteryQueen

::

“Dearest Toronto readers, it seems we have a mystery on our hands. Last night’s charity gala gave us glitz, glamour, and a moment that has the internet on fire. Forget the perfectly tailored suits, designer gowns, and champagne flutes—because what truly stole the show was one unexpected stumble and the instant chemistry that followed.

Our beloved Ice King, Auston Matthews, found himself caught in an uncharacteristically warm moment with an unidentified woman whose presence has ignited more conspiracy theories than a Stanley Cup drought. A fleeting touch, a lingering gaze, and now a photo has been seen around the world. Toronto can’t stop talking about it, and #MysteryQueen is trending faster than you can say, ‘Hat trick.’

Could the Ice King’s frosty demeanour finally be thawing?

Now, let’s not forget the timing, dear readers. With Matthews stepping into the captain’s role this season, his every move has been scrutinised. A new relationship would add fuel to the fire, making the stakes higher than ever. But this columnist can’t help but wonder—does the man who keeps everyone at arm’s length finally have someone worth letting in?

Stay tuned, Toronto. This season has just begun, and the story is heating up – so you know I’ll be here to bring you every detail.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer.”

_

Monday -

The shrill sound of your alarm cut through the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake with a groggy start. You fumbled to silence it, groaning as you buried your face back into the pillow. The events of the gala were already slipping into a hazy blur—clinking glasses, polished speeches, and that awkward but fleeting moment with Auston Matthews. Another long night of work, another day ahead. Same routine, different Monday.

Except… your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.

The incessant buzzing broke through your grogginess like a second alarm. You squinted at the screen, your vision struggling to adjust to the early morning light filtering through the blinds. Notification after notification lit up your phone, the vibration almost rattling it off your nightstand. You reached for it, dread prickling at the edges of your still-sleepy mind. Why was everyone blowing up your phone?

You swiped it open only to see your group chat with Jess and Maya was on fire.

Jess (7:23 AM): OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?

Maya (7:24 AM): You’re all over X! #MysteryQueen is trending, babe!

Your heart skipped a beat, confusion settling in your chest like a lead weight. Trending? That couldn’t be right. With trembling fingers, you tapped the link Jess had sent, a sinking feeling in your gut as the page loaded.

It took a moment—your Wi-Fi felt sluggish, though it was probably just your nerves slowing time to a crawl. When the image finally appeared, your breath caught.

There it was: the photo. The one everyone seemed to be talking about.

Auston Matthews’ hands were firmly wrapped around your torso, his smirk that perfect mix of charm and confidence, while your face betrayed every ounce of surprise and embarrassment you’d felt in that moment. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes wide—you looked like you’d stumbled straight out of a romance novel and into his arms.

The lighting, the angle, the backdrop—it was all too good. Soft, golden hues framed the two of you like the culmination of a carefully planned rom-com climax. Whoever had captured the moment had turned a fleeting accident into what now appeared to be undeniable chemistry.

Above the photo, the headline read: “Has the Ice King finally been dethroned? Who is this stunning Mystery Queen?”

Your stomach churned as you scrolled through the attached comments. They were relentless.

“Who is she???”

“She’s gorgeous! Can we ship this already?”

“Ice King has a Queen! Loving this”

Memes were already circulating: the two of you photoshopped onto movie posters, side-by-side shots of you under headlines like “Toronto’s Hottest Couple?” Theories ranged from harmless to absurd—everything from claims you were his secret girlfriend to guesses about your astrological compatibility.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jess (7:26 AM): You broke the internet, Queen. Do we bow now, or…?

Maya (7:30 AM): You’re literally famous. Like, for real. Can we talk about how hot Auston Matthews looked holding you?

A groan escaped you as you tossed your phone back onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. “This can’t be happening…”

You stayed like that for a moment, letting the panic wash over you. Your mind raced as you replayed the moment in question. It had been nothing. A stumble, a quick save, a polite exchange, and you’d moved on. How had it spiralled into this?

Your laptop sat on your desk, its sleek, black screen staring back at you like it dared you to confirm just how bad things were. Hesitating, you opened it and typed in the dreaded hashtag: #MysteryQueen.

The search results were overwhelming. Page after page of posts, photos, and speculation. Your name hadn’t surfaced yet—thankfully—but that didn’t stop people from trying to piece together every detail about you. Some users had gone so far as to zoom in on your necklace, debating whether it was a gift from Auston.

You groaned again, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. Stress bubbled in your chest, threatening to spill over. Jess and Maya’s texts kept pinging, a mix of teasing and encouragement that you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

Jess: “So… when are you introducing us to Auston?”

Maya: “Not to be dramatic, but if you don’t milk this for all it’s worth, I’ll be mad.”

You snorted despite yourself, though the laugh was hollow. You opened your email, desperate for a distraction or a sense of normalcy, but the subject line at the top of your inbox snatched that hope away: “We need to talk about last night.”

It was from your boss.

Your stomach sank further as you glanced at the clock. 7:45 AM. Not even time for coffee.

“Perfect,” you muttered, slamming your laptop shut. This wasn’t just damage control anymore—this was survival. You needed to get ready for work, figure out how to salvage your career, and pray the internet had a short attention span.

_

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly in the background as Auston Matthews stood in his kitchen, barefoot on the cool tile floor. He scrolled through his phone with one hand while expertly cracking an egg into a sizzling pan with the other. The aroma of coffee brewing filled the space, mingling with the faint sound of the egg frying. It was a typical morning—except for the buzzing chaos of his phone on the counter, vibrating with relentless notifications.

His phone rattled against the marble again. He leaned over, smirking as the latest messages lit up the screen.

Mitchy (7:15 AM): “Nice work, Captain. Saving PR girls in distress now?”

Auston chuckled softly, shaking his head. Mitch’s commentary was always reliable.

A second buzz followed.

Willy (7:20 AM): “Does she have a sister? Asking for a friend.”

He snorted, typing out a quick reply: “You’d have no chance, Willy.”

Sliding the eggs onto a plate, Auston grabbed a bottle of Prime from the fridge. He leaned back against the counter, sipping casually while thumbing through social media. There it was—the photo that had set the internet on fire.

The hashtags were as relentless as the messages from his teammates:

#MysteryQueen

#IceKingAndQueen

#CoupleGoals

Fans were analysing every pixel of the image: the way he leaned slightly toward you, his smirk soft and almost intimate, the subtle tilt of your head that made it seem like the two of you were the only ones in the room. It was absurd, the way a split-second interaction had been turned into a viral sensation.

His phone buzzed again.

Mitchy (7:32 AM): “So? You bringing her to practice? Or is this another ‘one night and done’ thing?”

Auston rolled his eyes and typed back, “Jealous, Marner?”

The reply came instantly.

Mitchy: “Of you? Never. Of her? Maybe.”

Auston let out a low laugh, setting his phone down with a soft clink. The teasing didn’t bother him. If anything, it amused him. Let them speculate. Let the internet obsess over the photo. He had always been good at playing into the media’s games while staying one step ahead.

He finished his breakfast in thoughtful silence, his mind briefly wandering back to the gala. The night had been standard fare: sponsors, schmoozing, and carefully crafted soundbites. But then there had been you—stumbling into his space, equal parts flustered and sharp-witted. You had been anything but predictable, and that, more than anything, had caught his attention.

The photo had turned a fleeting moment into a viral phenomenon. Now, he was caught up in the swirl of speculation, but unlike most, he didn’t mind. It was fun.

For now, though, there was training to get to. Auston grabbed his bag and headed out, smirking at his phone one last time before silencing the endless stream of notifications. The Ice King wasn’t worried—he was just getting started.

_

Arriving at the office felt like stepping onto a stage where you were the unwitting star of a play you hadn’t auditioned for. The usual hum of activity—clicking keyboards, ringing phones, snippets of muted conversation—was still there, but today, it had a charged edge. Every sound felt sharper, every glance lingered a second too long, and the air seemed to buzz with anticipation, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

You pushed through the glass doors, clutching your bag tightly as your heels clicked against the polished tile. The receptionist, a chipper woman named Clara who usually greeted you with a bright smile and a cheerful good morning, faltered for a split second before recovering. Her eyes flicked to her computer screen, her cheeks pink as if you’d caught her mid-gossip. She returned your nod with a stiff smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, her hand nervously adjusting a stack of papers on her desk.

You offered her a polite “Morning” and continued down the hall, the weight of invisible eyes trailing you like static electricity. The whispers started almost immediately, barely muffled by the thin partitions between desks.

“Is that her?” a voice murmured, not even bothering to lower the volume much.

“I told you it was!” another hissed in reply. “She’s the one from the photo. Did you see how close they were?”

You felt your skin prickle, a flush creeping up your neck. It wasn’t just the whispers—it was the sidelong glances, the quick turns of heads as you passed, the way conversations halted the moment you entered a room. They didn’t need to say your name for you to know exactly what they were talking about.

The now-infamous image of you and Auston Matthews—locked in what looked like a moment of intimate connection—had spread through the office like wildfire. It had morphed you from a background player into the unwelcome centre of attention. Each step felt heavier than the last, your confidence sinking further as you imagined the scenarios they must be concocting. Yet, despite the murmurs, no one dared to approach you directly. They simply stared, whispered, and speculated, leaving you to endure the attention in silence.

By the time you reached your desk, your nerves were stretched taut. You dropped your bag next to the chair and slumped into the seat, staring blankly at your computer screen. The open layout of the office, which usually fostered collaboration, now felt stifling. Every glance felt like a spotlight, every quiet chuckle like it was aimed at you. Your chest tightened as if the walls were closing in.

A soft ping from your computer startled you. You opened your inbox with shaky hands, hoping for a mundane email to ground you. Instead, your heart sank as you read the subject line: “Meeting: 9:30 AM – Mr. Manion’s Office.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course. Your boss wasn’t going to let this slide without a formal discussion.

The clock read 9:30 AM sharp when you stood outside your boss’s office, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. The glass door reflected your image back at you—your blazer slightly wrinkled from the walk, your fingers clutching a tablet like a shield. You forced yourself to smooth down your hair, adjust your blouse, and plaster on a neutral expression. You knocked twice, the sound sharp and hollow.

“Come in,” came the brisk reply.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing the imposing space. Your boss’s office was the epitome of professionalism—sharp lines, muted tones, and a sense of order that bordered on sterile. Framed photos of MLSE milestones lined the walls, alongside neatly mounted jerseys signed by players he'd worked with countless times - hockey, baseball, basketball. The desk was immaculate, save for a single folder that sat directly in the centre. You didn’t need to look closer to know what was inside it.

Mr. Manion, your boss, a no-nonsense man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetually stern expression, gestured for you to sit. You perched stiffly on the edge of the leather chair, gripping the armrests like they might keep you grounded. The silence in the room stretched, the tension palpable as he flipped open the folder and scanned its contents.

Finally, he looked up, his brows knitting together in faint disapproval. “You’re aware of the situation, I assume?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your stomach. “I’ve seen the photo.”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied you. “Good. Then you understand why this is an issue. This photo—and the ridiculous frenzy it’s caused—has overshadowed what was supposed to be a highlight of our season. The charity event. The teams. Not…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his gaze unyielding. “You.”

The words landed like a slap, even though you’d braced yourself for them. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. “I understand completely.”

“Do you?” His tone sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Because right now, this office looks less like a PR department and more like the set of a reality show. And if there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s distractions. Our focus is the client. Always the client.”

You nodded quickly, your cheeks burning. “I’ll fix it.”

He leaned forward, his gaze unrelenting. “Good. I’ve organised that you'll be at the hockey game tonight. You’ll work with the MLSE media team to redirect the narrative. Shift the attention back to the players, the franchise—anything but this viral nonsense. Understood?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firm even as the weight of his expectations settled on your shoulders.

“And another thing,” he added, his tone softening but his expression remaining stern. “You’ll be working with Chase.”

Your stomach dropped. Of all people. Chase, the golden boy of the department who had an uncanny ability to make every situation about himself. Smug, self-assured, and relentless in his pursuit of credit for others’ work, he was the last person you wanted to be paired with.

“Chase?” you repeated, unable to keep the dismay out of your voice.

“Yes,” Mr. Manion said with finality. “He’s handled high-pressure situations before, and I expect you two to work together professionally to resolve this. No more distractions. No more headlines.”

You forced a tight smile. “Understood.”

“Good,” he said, closing the folder with a decisive snap. “Don’t let me down.”

The walk back to your desk felt even longer than the one to his office. Chase. Seriously... You could already picture his self-satisfied grin, the condescending tone he’d use to offer “advice.” The idea of spending the evening with him—let alone relying on him—made your skin crawl.

You slumped into your chair, your head spinning. The whispers around the office seemed to grow louder, like static building to a crescendo. You wanted to disappear, to crawl under your desk and wait for the world to forget the photo. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t an option.

Maybe, you thought for a brief moment, this could be an opportunity. Not the one you’d envisioned, but a chance nonetheless. If you could handle the media circus, Chase’s smugness, and the weight of your boss’s expectations, you’d prove you belonged here—not just as a worker, but as a leader.

Straightening your spine, you smoothed invisible wrinkles from your blouse. No more photos. No more moments. No more headlines. Just fix this and move forward.

Easy enough. Right?

_

The Maple Leafs’ locker room was alive with its usual pre-practice energy. The air buzzed with the familiar sounds of hockey prep—sticks being taped with meticulous precision, skate blades being checked and tightened, and gear bags being unzipped with sharp zings. The smell of sweat, leather, and faint traces of menthol liniment filled the room, but today, the usual pre-game hum carried an extra spark.

All eyes were on Auston Matthews.

“Yo, Tony!” Mitch’s voice broke through the din, instantly commanding attention. He was perched precariously on the bench, one foot up like a man about to deliver the Gettysburg Address. “So, do we call her your soulmate, or was she just your ‘weekend highlight’?”

The room erupted in laughter. Mitch, ever the instigator, milked the moment with exaggerated gestures, holding his heart like he’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow. Auston, unfazed, shrugged off his jacket, hanging it neatly in his stall as though Mitch hadn’t spoken at all.

“Neither,” Auston replied, his tone so smooth and casual it bordered on bored. “But thanks for your concern, Mitchy. Really warms my heart.”

“Oh, I’m concerned,” Mitch shot back, leaping down from the bench with dramatic flair. “It’s not every day our Captain makes romantic headlines off the ice.”

Matthew Knies chimed in next, leaning back lazily in his stall. His grin, wicked and knowing, spread like wildfire across his face. “You gonna share the story, or are you keeping this one all to yourself? Come on, Cappy. Did you at least get her number? Or is this just another no-strings situation?”

Auston finally glanced over, one brow arching in mock amusement. “Don’t you have a mirror to stare at, Kniesy? Go admire yourself somewhere else.”

The laughter doubled, bouncing off the walls like a puck ricocheting off the boards. Even the more reserved players smirked as the banter escalated.

Reaves, stretching out his shoulders, added in his deep baritone, “Bet her phone’s already blowing up. She’s probably sitting there right now, trying to figure out if she’s ready to handle the ‘Ice King.’”

“Or,” Mitch interjected again, holding up a finger like a professor making a critical point, “she’s trying to figure out why she’s trending while he’s already onto the next one.”

Auston rolled his eyes, dropping onto the bench as he reached for his skates. “You guys seriously need better hobbies.”

“Hobbies?” Mitch feigned outrage, clutching his chest theatrically like he’d been mortally wounded. “This is our hobby! Watching you fumble around women like it’s your first time stepping onto the ice.”

Even John Tavares, usually the stoic leader of the group, couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he taped his stick with methodical precision.

“You’re gonna need a new nickname after this,” Conor Timmins called out, grinning as he adjusted his shin guards. “Something like… Loverboy Matthews.”

“Or Prince Charming,” Max Domi suggested, leaning against the wall with a toothless grin. “You swooped in, caught her mid-fall—classic fairy-tale move. You practicing for a movie, or what?��

Auston didn’t miss a beat. “Just trying to remind you guys what grace under pressure looks like.”

The locker room erupted into hoots and cheers, players slapping their thighs or sticks against the floor in exaggerated applause. Even Auston, usually unflappable, couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s not forget the most important question, eh,” Mitch said, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “Did you or did you not close the deal? Because if you didn’t…” He let the sentence hang, his grin turning mischievous as the room erupted again.

Auston shook his head, leaning down to lace his skates with deliberate precision. “You guys are fucking awful. It was nothing. She’s just a PR manager doing her job. That’s it.”

Reaves shook his head, chuckling. “You’re telling me that look she gave you was part of the job? Please. If that’s her work face, I need to hire her immediately.”

“Let me guess,” William said, his grin widening. “You gave her your best smoulder, and she melted, didn’t she? Ice King strikes again.”

“Smoulder?” Mitch nearly doubled over laughing. “He probably just stood there and grunted. That’s his move. ‘I’m Auston Matthews. Be impressed.’”

“Don’t forget the eyebrow raise,” Max chimed in, waggling his own brows for emphasis. “That’s his closer.”

Auston grabbed a towel from his stall and lobbed it at Mitch, who narrowly dodged it with a dramatic yelp. “Keep dreaming, Marner. You’re just mad you’ll never have my moves.”

The room roared with laughter as Mitch held his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, please. I don’t need your moves, buddy. I’ve got personality.”

“Personality?” Auston repeated, finally looking up with a smirk. “That what you call it now?”

Before Mitch could fire back, a sharp whistle cut through the chaos. Chief’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Alright, enough! Let’s go! Save the soap opera for after practice.”

The laughter died down, though the smirks and knowing glances lingered as the players turned their attention to gearing up.

As soon as Auston stepped onto the ice, the locker room antics faded into the background. The cool air hit his face, sharpening his focus as he took his first powerful strides across the rink. The sound of blades slicing across the ice and sticks snapping against pucks filled the arena, a symphony of precision and power.

“Alright, boys, let’s dial it in!” Auston called, his voice cutting through the hum of activity.

His every movement on the ice was fluid and deliberate, his passes snapping perfectly to his teammates like they were guided by some invisible force. He commanded the flow of drills with the confidence of a seasoned leader, his focus razor-sharp.

Even when Mitch skated past during a drill, leaning in just close enough to whisper, “Hey, Prince Charming—don’t forget to teach us those moves later,” Auston didn’t miss a beat.

“Don’t worry, Mitchy,” he replied, his tone calm and cool. “I’ll save the lessons for when you finally learn how to backcheck.”

The nearby players burst into laughter, and Mitch groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. Auston smirked as he returned to the drill, his focus unwavering.

Back in the locker room, the banter picked up again as the players peeled off their gear and hit the showers. Auston wiped sweat from his forehead, grabbing his phone from his stall out of habit. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications, but one message stood out.

Mom: “Hola, mijo! Saw the news. You have a girlfriend now? Why didn’t you tell me? Qué sorpresa! Call me later. Besos!”

Auston groaned, leaning back in his stall as he rubbed a hand over his face. Of course, the rumours had made their way all the way to Arizona. His mother never missed a thing.

He quickly typed out a reply:

Auston: “No girlfriend. Just the media blowing things out of proportion. Promise I’ll call later.”

From the stall next to him, Mitch leaned over, his grin as wide as ever. “Let me guess—Mama Matthews wants to meet her future daughter-in-law?”

Auston groaned, tossing another damp towel at him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Marner?”

“Not until I hear how you’re gonna explain this to her,” Mitch quipped, dodging the towel with a laugh.

Auston shook his head, smirking despite himself. It was going to be a long day. The Ice King wasn’t just trending—he was thriving.

_

“Oh, Auston. A commanding captain on the ice, a knight in shining armour at the galas—tell us, is there anything you can’t do? From blistering wrist shots to a disarming smirk that leaves reporters and fans alike spellbound, you’ve mastered the art of being Toronto’s shining star. Perhaps Mitch Marner should take notes—not just on your hockey technique, but on handling attention with your signature, infuriatingly effortless charm. And William Nylander? He might need a crash course in keeping up with your knack for drawing the spotlight without even trying.

But every kingdom needs balance, doesn’t it? A king isn’t a king without his loyal support. The rookies may watch your every move, but the city is watching, too—an entire court of adoring subjects, dissecting every detail, every headline, every photo. Careful, Matthews. It’s easy to rule the ice, but when the lines between the rink and the spotlight begin to blur, kingdoms can crumble under the weight of their own grandeur.

Your throne is solid for now, but your court is hungry for more. What will you give them next? - The Benchwarmer”

_

The Scotiabank Arena buzzed with pre-game anticipation, the hum of excited chatter blending with the sharp sounds of skates cutting across the ice during warm-ups. Fans clad in blue-and-white jerseys filled the air with energy, their collective excitement palpable as they streamed through the wide doors. The aroma of buttery popcorn and sizzling pretzels wafted through the concourse, mingling with the chill that radiated from the rink below.

You adjusted your blazer with a sharp tug, clutching your tablet tightly as you made your way to the media section. This was your arena of expertise—coordinating interviews, ensuring the narrative focused on the team, and staying invisible in the process. But tonight, the stakes felt impossibly high. The viral #MysteryQueen photo wasn’t just following you; it was plastered in the eyes and whispers of everyone around you.

As you approached the media room entrance, Chase was already waiting, predictably pristine in his perfectly tailored suit. His signature smirk was firmly in place, the kind that always made you want to roll your eyes. He leaned casually against the wall, looking as though he were preparing to deliver a victory speech rather than assist you in damage control.

“Well, well,” he said as you reached him, his tone dripping with mockery. “If it isn’t Toronto’s newest viral sensation. Tell me, how’s life as #MysteryQueen treating you?”

You shot him a glare, your jaw tightening. “Let’s just focus on the job,” you replied curtly.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chase said, falling into step beside you as you walked into the room. “I’m here to make sure you don’t turn this into an even bigger mess. You’ve done enough of that already.”

You clenched your teeth, your grip on the tablet tightening. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Chase.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Because from where I’m standing, you could use a crash course in PR basics. Like staying invisible and not ending up as the story. Rookie move, don’t you think?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with an icy glare. “Are you going to help, or are you just here to gloat?”

Chase raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unrelenting. “Relax. I’m just here to keep you in line. Wouldn’t want you tripping over Matthews again and handing the internet more fuel for their fire.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the jab, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath, counting silently to three. “Let’s just get through tonight without any incidents,” you said, turning on your heel and walking ahead without waiting for his reply.

The pre-game interviews began in a whirlwind of camera flashes and bustling reporters. Auston Matthews entered the room right on time, his presence commanding immediate attention. Every camera lens turned toward him, capturing his perfectly composed demeanour as he prepared for the barrage of questions.

You stood to the side, tablet in hand, observing quietly as he answered each question with ease. He was a natural—calm, polished, and confident. His responses were precise yet charming, a masterclass in handling media under pressure.

Chase leaned in slightly, his voice low but laced with condescension. “Look at him—perfect posture, perfect answers. You’d think he rehearsed this a hundred times.”

“He has,” you shot back under your breath, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Auston’s gaze flicked in your direction, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. For a split second, a glimmer of amusement danced across his face, as though he’d overheard your exchange. He smirked slightly, turning back to the reporters, but somehow the gesture felt like it was meant for you.

When the interviews concluded, you stepped aside to check the evening’s schedule, your focus shifting back to logistics. Of course, Chase remained close, ready to offer unsolicited commentary.

“You know,” he began, his voice teasing as he leaned against the wall, “if you’re trying to stay out of the spotlight, you might want to stop looking at him like that.”

Your head snapped up, a frown forming on your face. “Like what?” you demanded, sharper than you intended.

“Like he’s the only person in the room,” Chase replied with a smug grin. “Just saying.”

Before you could respond, the crowd began to disperse, the pre-game atmosphere shifting as fans filed toward their seats for the national anthem. You let out a frustrated breath, forcing yourself to refocus. Chase wasn’t worth your energy. Not tonight.

As the game began, the arena roared to life, the crowd erupting with every rush down the ice and save by the goalie. From the media section, you watched the game unfold, your tablet propped on your lap as you took notes and ensured the schedule ran smoothly. Auston was, as always, in his element, commanding the ice with every stride. He directed plays with a sharpness that reminded everyone why he wore the captain’s “C.”

But even amidst the game’s intensity, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you glanced up, it felt as though the whispers of fans were louder than the cheers. You caught glimpses of people pointing in your direction, their phones raised discreetly—or not so discreetly—to snap photos.

The hashtag wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, the spectacle was growing.

Chase leaned over during a break in play, his smirk firmly in place. “You’re a hit, you know. The internet can’t get enough of you.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, keeping your eyes on the game. But his words lingered, gnawing at your already frazzled nerves. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—or ever asked for. Worse, you couldn’t tell if Auston was ignoring the attention or quietly revelling in it.

As the final buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers, you exhaled deeply, the weight of the night still pressing down on you. But this was only the beginning. There was still so much more to face.

_

The buzz of the post-game crowd echoed faintly through the tunnel, a mix of jubilant cheers and the hum of arena staff preparing to wind down for the night. The air was thick with energy, but you barely noticed, your thoughts consumed by the task ahead. You stood just outside the media room, shifting your weight between your heels as if the motion could steady the whirlwind of nerves building inside you.

Your tablet felt heavy in your arms, not because of its weight but because of what it symbolised—your professional armour in a moment that felt far too personal. The image of the viral photo flashed through your mind for the hundredth time that day. The teasing. The whispers. The relentless #MysteryQueen hashtag that refused to die. You hadn’t asked for this spotlight, but it seemed determined to follow you.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention, and when Auston Matthews stepped out of the media room, your pulse quickened. His shirt was damped, the faint sheen of exertion still clinging to his skin. He exuded a casual confidence, as if he were entirely unfazed by the chaos swirling around him. His gaze swept the hallway before landing on you, and just like that, his professional mask slipped into something more playful.

Raising a brow, he smirked, his tone low and teasing. “Waiting for me?”

You let out a huff, trying to summon the last reserves of your professionalism. “We need to talk,” you said briskly, nodding toward a quieter corner of the hallway.

Intrigued, Auston fell into step beside you, the faint click of his shoes on the concrete floor adding to the tension. Once out of earshot from the lingering media, he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in a relaxed pose that was the polar opposite of how you felt. His posture was casual, but his eyes were sharp, watching you with open curiosity.

“Alright,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his smirk never wavering. “What’s on your mind, Mystery Queen?”

The heat rushed to your cheeks, and you resisted the childish urge to stomp your foot. “Can you not call me that?”

“Fine,” he replied, clearly humouring you, though the amusement in his voice only grew. “What’s the issue, boss?”

Taking a steadying breath, you tightened your grip on your tablet, the hard edges grounding you. “I need you to address the rumours,” you said firmly. “Publicly. Tell everyone there’s nothing between us.”

Auston tilted his head, his smirk softening into something closer to curiosity. “Why?”

“Because,” you said, struggling to keep your frustration in check, “my boss isn’t thrilled about the attention. I’m supposed to be behind the scenes, not… trending online. I have a career to build, and this whole spectacle is not helping.”

He nodded slowly; his expression thoughtful. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might agree. But then, a different light sparked in his eyes—something calculating, almost mischievous—and his smirk returned, sharper than before.

“You want people to take you seriously, right?” he asked, his tone almost too casual.

“Yes,” you said cautiously, narrowing your eyes. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“And you need to stand out? Get noticed by your boss?”

The suspicion prickling at the back of your neck deepened. “What are you getting at?”

Auston straightened slightly, his relaxed stance giving way to something more deliberate. “What if… we don’t deny it?”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive tone that could probably charm half the city. “The attention isn’t going away anytime soon. If anything, it’s only going to get worse. So why not use it to your advantage?”

“You’re suggesting we… fake it?”

“Exactly,” Auston said, his confidence radiating like heat from a fire. “You want people to notice you? They will. You’ll look like the PR genius who landed me. And I get the media off my back for a while. Everyone thinks I’m ‘taken,’ and they stop asking me about my personal life. Win-win.”

You blinked at him, completely stunned by the audacity of his proposal. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” he countered, his tone steady, his expression calm. “You said you wanted to build your name. What better way to get people talking? We use this Benchwarmer columnist to our advantage - the gossip she’s writing about me. Us. It’s pure strategy - something you’d know all about. Huh?”

Logic screamed at you to walk away, to tell him he was out of his mind. But another part of you—the part that had endured Chase’s relentless teasing, your boss’s stern lecture, and the whispers of your co-workers—paused. Was this really any more ridiculous than the situation you were already in? And if you played it right, couldn’t this be an opportunity?

You chewed your lip, your gaze darting toward the hallway where the faint buzz of the arena still lingered. “If this has to work,” you said hesitantly, “it has to be believable. No half-measures.”

“Believable,” Auston repeated, his smirk widening into a full grin. “That’s my specialty.”

You let out a resigned sigh, shaking your head. “This is crazy.”

“Crazy works,” he said with a wink, leaning in just enough to make your pulse skip. “Trust me.”

You searched his face for any sign that he wasn’t serious, but all you found was confidence and a glimmer of mischief. Against every ounce of better judgment, you nodded slowly.

“Alright,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

The grin that spread across Auston’s face was triumphant, almost wolfish. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his voice low and assured.

As you turned to walk away, your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts racing faster than the cheers that still echoed faintly through the arena. You couldn’t help but wonder: What have I just gotten myself into?

_

“Dear Toronto readers, it seems we have yet another moment destined for the record books. The Ice King himself, Auston Matthews, and his so-called Mystery Queen were spotted in an intimate exchange in the depths of Scotiabank Arena, away from the roar of the crowd and the cameras—well, most of them.

Sparks, dear readers, are flying faster than pucks on a power play.

The city is buzzing louder than the boards after a hard check, and why wouldn’t it be? For a team as iconic as the Maple Leafs, even the smallest whisper of a new royal couple in their kingdom is enough to set the fandom ablaze. And this particular pairing? It has all the makings of a modern fairy tale—complete with a little mystery and a lot of chemistry.

But let’s not forget the rest of the court. The rookies may be loyal subjects, and the veteran players ever-watchful advisors, but every kingdom comes with its share of intrigue. Whispers from the locker room suggest a reign of strategy, while murmurs in the stands lean toward romance.

Whatever the truth, one thing is certain: this King and Queen have the entire city watching their every move. Will their story be one of triumph or turmoil? Only time will tell.

So, stay tuned, Toronto. The season is young, and the drama is only just beginning.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[matrixbearer2024]

Can't Sleep Love [Stanford Pines X Reader]

Ford is up working late again, drowning himself in work because restful sleep continues to elude him. That was until you came into the picture, and you both know that Ford can’t truly deny you anything. It doesn’t matter how stubborn he is.

OOC: God I suck at summaries- anyway here's a fic I was working on because oh my GOD I missed writing this geriatric and he's adorable okay-

[Sleep has always been a distant thing, a reluctant guest— until you came along, whispering for me to rest beside you.]

Ford wasn’t entirely sure what he was working towards. Papers crumpled, journal pages filled with almost unintelligible scrawl, his ink staining the pages with endless numbers and letters. It was going to be one of those nights— one where peaceful sleep remained an impossibility, slipping through his grasp like smoke. He didn’t even bother reaching for it anymore, not when he already knew what awaited him on the other side.

Harsh nightmares, regrets, deep wounds that refused to heal— scars that marred his flesh, both mental and emotional, seared into his very being like brands of memory. The state of his well-being almost mirrored the state of his desk. Papers and books lay in scattered disarray, empty coffee mugs stacked haphazardly to the side, long forgotten. Nothing was where it should be.

The mess was a stark contrast to his usual meticulous and orderly nature.

And yet, Stanford couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too tired to even begin organizing it, much less clean up the wreckage of his workspace. Running purely on fumes, he pushed forward, determined to keep the monsters in his mind at bay. Even if it meant forcing himself to work to the brink of exhaustion, even if he had to bury himself in equations and theory just to drown out the thoughts clawing at the edge of his consciousness.

His work was consuming, methodical. If he let himself fall into the calculations, if he lost himself in the hypotheses, in the endless cycle of experimentation, then time blurred into an abstract concept— an inconsequential thing, swallowed whole by the pursuit of discovery. A welcome distraction from the horrors lurking beneath the surface, waiting for him the moment he allowed himself to rest.

Then, the pen in his grasp began to stutter against the paper, leaving behind an unsightly blotch of ink.

At first, Ford thought nothing of it— perhaps just an unfortunate clogging of the nib, or an old pen finally giving out under the relentless pressure of his scribbling. But as he lifted it to inspect the tip, rolling it lightly between his fingers, a faint frown tugged at the corners of his lips. There was still ink left, plenty of it. And yet, when he tried pressing it to the page again, it stuttered and faltered, leaving behind uneven, jagged lines instead of the precise, methodical words he had intended.

Stanford huffed through his nose.

So much for keeping his notes clean. Yet, as he turned the pages to glance over his previous work, most of it was indecipherable. The elegant and deliberate cursive he once took pride in had been reduced to nothing more than sleep-deprived scribbles. He could barely make sense of his own writing.

The longer he stared at the page, the less it made sense. The equation he had been editing, rewriting, revisiting over and over again— it had all blurred together into something incomprehensible.

What was he even working on?

His mind was failing him. All logical thought had come screeching to a halt, refusing to function, refusing to move forward, no matter how desperately he tried to force it. The once-blazing fire of his intellect had burned itself to embers, and even those embers were beginning to ash over.

Restarting that fire would be impossible without fuel.

And Ford had nothing left to burn.

With a heavy sigh, the scientist finally put his pen down. Continuing now, when all he seemed capable of doing was staining the pages with ink and exhaustion, was an exercise in futility. Of all the nights his trusted jotter had to give out, it had to be tonight.

The universe had a way of playing cruel tricks on him, didn’t it? A part of him wanted to believe that he deserved it— that this was some kind of cosmic retribution for the countless mistakes he had made in his life.

Then again, fate had never been kind to him.

The sound of the basement door creaking open barely registered at first. His focus remained firmly rooted in the inked diagrams and unfinished calculations sprawled across his journal, his mind wandering anywhere but here. Days long gone, memories that haunted, time he could never get back. The monsters in his head refused to bid him adieu.

Then, he heard it.

Soft footsteps against the wooden floor. A faint inhale— hesitant, lingering.

His shoulders instinctively stiffened before he forced himself to relax. He already knew who it was.

No one else dared to venture down here this late. No one else ever tried to pull him away from his work. No one but you.

"(Y/N)…?"

His voice came out rough, almost disbelieving, as if his exhaustion-addled mind hadn’t yet fully processed your presence. In the dim quiet of the lab, the steady patter of rain against the window nearly lulled him into the sleep he so vehemently resisted.

Ford still fought against its pull. What was the point of resting when all that awaited him was the inevitable jolt awake, the cold sweat clinging to his skin, the suffocating weight of dreams that refused to let him go?

He didn’t want to sleep.

When he finally looked up, his glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and for a moment— just a fleeting moment— he forgot how to breathe.

The soft golden glow of the desk lamp illuminated you in warm hues, light catching the delicate curve of your face, your silhouette outlined like something ethereal. A trick of the light, surely. And yet, the sight was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

Or maybe that was just the exhaustion talking.

You lingered at the entrance of the lab, shifting your weight slightly, the familiar flicker of mischief in your eyes tempered by something softer.

"I knew you’d still be down here."

Your voice broke the silence, gentle yet firm, an undeniable truth.

Ford swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how long he had been hunched over his desk. His back ached, his fingers throbbed from gripping the pen too tightly, and his mind— his mind waged a war against itself, a battle fought on all fronts.

You always had a way of doing that to him.

Disarming him with nothing more than your presence.

Stealing the air from his lungs with nothing more than a glance.

Autonomy had never truly been his when you were around.

"You should be asleep."

The scientist muttered, his six fingers absently drumming against the desk. His words were more of a deflection than an argument, thrown out automatically rather than with any real conviction.

"So should you."

You countered effortlessly, crossing your arms with a tired yet playful grin.

Stanford exhaled through his nose, his free hand rubbing at his temple, already resigning himself to the inevitable. He knew you well enough by now to recognize when you weren’t going to leave him alone— not until you got what you wanted.

And, as much as he loathed to admit it, he never really wanted you to leave in the first place.

You gave him a sheepish, almost apologetic smile, lingering in the doorway, shifting your weight slightly from one foot to the other.

"Couldn't sleep?"

He asked, trying to rationalize your sudden visit. He knew you meant well— everything you did, everything you were, always seemed to center around a quiet, unwavering concern for him. Ford just found himself too tired to appreciate it in the moment.

Because he didn’t want to sleep.

"Something like that."

You hesitated, glancing at him before meekly adding.

"Would you mind some company?"

His first instinct was to refuse— not out of dislike, but habit. This was his space, his domain of absolute concentration and solitude, the one place in the world that had always been his and his alone.

And yet—

As he watched you fidget in the dim glow of the lab’s lighting, eyes flickering with quiet vulnerability, that well-worn reflex… softened. Dissolved.

Something warm spread through his chest, slow and unbidden.

Ford cleared his throat, slightly flustered, but beckoned you inside with a quiet gesture of his hand.

"You’re always welcome, (Y/N)."

His voice was quiet, sincere, imbued with an honesty that had your lips curling into a smile— a smile that softened the tension in your shoulders as you stepped forward. As the space between you closed, his heart betrayed him, picking up its pace in his chest. He was helpless to ignore the way his body adjusted instinctively— not retreating, not guarding itself, but making room for you.

Not away from him, but into his personal orbit.

The air shifted, charged with something unspoken, something warm. He noticed the way your gaze softened, studying him with a concern he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Before he could think of what to say, you moved— carefully perching yourself on the edge of his desk, like you belonged there. And at this point, you did.

A gentle silence settled between you both as your eyes flickered toward the window, watching the soft streaks of rain slide against the glass. The muted rhythm was hypnotic, lulling the lab into a peaceful hush, a quiet stillness neither of you felt the need to break.

Yet, despite the comfort of silence, Stanford found himself subtly observing you from where he sat. How the dim lighting of the lab softened your features, painting you in hues of gold and shadow. How your fingers lightly tapped an absentminded rhythm against the table’s edge, mirroring the raindrops above. How your presence alone seemed to quiet the restlessness he hadn’t even realized had taken root in him.

You liked his space just as much as he did.

You carried a peacefulness with you, something intangible, something steady. And somehow, without ever trying, you had brought that same quiet comfort into his sanctuary of worn notes and half-finished projects.

Your place at his worktable had become as natural as the endless stack of empty coffee mugs that littered it.

"You work too hard, Ford."

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even a reprimand. It was simply… true.

He exhaled a soft chuckle, adjusting his glasses with a sheepish expression.

He had no argument.

With a resigned sigh, Ford ran a hand through his silver locks before leaning back slightly in his chair, finally turning to fully face you.

"Perhaps."

He conceded, voice low, contemplative.

His eyes flickered toward his scattered notes, a quiet war waging in his mind.

"But science isn’t going to innovate itself…"

"And you won’t innovate anything if you collapse."

Your counter was effortless, lighthearted but firm, your gaze gentle as it searched his features. Concern wove itself into your voice, threading through every syllable like a quiet plea.

"You should rest too, you know?"

Stanford couldn’t quite hold your gaze for long at that, something raw and unfamiliar settling in his chest. Vulnerability was not something he had ever been good at, least of all when it came to himself. Instead, his eyes flickered downward, his six-fingered hands clasping together on his lap, fingers tightening as he quietly processed your words.

You always had far too much power over him.

The silence stretched, lingering, not uncomfortable but heavy with something unspoken. Outside, the rain tapped gently against the window, steady and rhythmic, weaving itself into the quiet hush of the lab.

A sanctuary.

A place that had once been built for solitude now felt warmer with you here. More… alive.

And that was dangerous.

Because when had this started happening? When had you become the thing he looked forward to most? When had your presence become more enticing than his own research?

Ford was a man of science. A man of logic, of reason. He was meticulous, disciplined, driven by the pursuit of knowledge, not… this.

Not achingly aware of how close your hand was to his on the desk. Not stealing glances at the way the lamplight caught in your eyes. Not memorizing the soft rhythm of your breathing and how, somehow, it had synced so effortlessly with his own.

The realization unnerved him.

He needed to do something. Say something. Anything to break the spell you had him under.

But before he could, you moved first.

Your hand, slow and deliberate, reached for his.

Ford froze. Completely. Utterly.

And then, you laced your fingers through his.

A simple gesture. Innocent.

But it wrecked him.

Stanford Pines had faced interdimensional horrors, eldritch beings, the very fabric of reality unraveling before his eyes— And nothing— nothing— had ever unraveled him the way you just did.

His heart slammed against his ribs, hammering out a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm. His mind, usually sharp, usually relentless in its calculations, flatlined.

"(Y/N)…"

He started, but his voice— his steady, controlled voice— wavered in ways it shouldn’t.

You just smiled. So effortlessly, so carelessly, like you weren’t sending him spiraling into full-blown catastrophe.

"Come to bed."

You murmured, soft and quiet and wholly devastating.

A request. An invitation. A trap.

Ford swallowed thickly.

"I—"

And then your thumb brushed against his knuckles.

His brain short-circuited.

He lost.

Just like that, you had him wrapped around your finger.

"…Just for tonight."

He relented, voice hoarse. Your smile brightened at that, something radiant blooming across your features, and Ford barely had time to steel himself before you gently pulled him up with you.

The shift was effortless. Natural.

Ford barely registered standing, barely registered how your hand fit so perfectly in his own. It felt right. It felt dangerously right.

The simple gesture was somehow overwhelmingly tender, and for a moment, he found himself frozen— before he carefully, almost reverently, squeezed your hand in return.

His pulse stuttered when you squeezed back.

And as you guided him gently from the lab, the rain continued to murmur softly overhead, its gentle lullaby carrying you both toward a place where, at least for tonight, work and worry could wait.

And Ford…

Ford was helpless against it.

Because in these quiet moments, he realized— with striking, undeniable clarity—

That he’d gladly trade a thousand nights alone in his lab for a single evening with you.

[st4rssky]

You wanna kiss me so bad..

☆ inspired by this silly post from Ro<3 ☆

“Are you kidding!? The main character is obviously in love with her best friend!” I huffed in frustration, feeling the heat of our argument pulse in the air. I had been going back and forth with Satan for the past fifteen minutes over the book he had so enthusiastically recommended.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the pages of his current read, a sly smile forming on his lips. “I see how it may seem like that to a novice reader like yourself, but I can assure you it’s not like that.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes with a laugh. “Novice? Just because I don’t have my own personal library doesn’t mean I’m a novice. I know what I read.”

Satan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the smugness radiating off him like heat from a flame. “Ah, but sometimes the best stories require a deeper understanding. You have to look beyond the obvious.”

“Look beyond? Seriously?” I shot back. “The girl is practically pining over her best friend in every chapter! It’s like a neon sign.”

He tilted his head, pretending to ponder my words. “Or it’s simply a reflection of a strong platonic bond. Not everything has to be romantic, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Sure, if you ignore all the longing looks and the way they keep finding excuses to be alone together.”

“Maybe they’re just really good friends,” he countered, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re reading it like a rom-com when it could just be a heartfelt exploration of friendship.”

“Yeah, right. Tell that to the thousands of readers shipping them online.” I leaned forward, fueled by my conviction. “You’re just in denial because you like this book too much.”

Satan chuckled, shaking his head. “Or maybe I’m just more discerning. You should try it sometime. Might improve your perspective.”

“Discerning, huh? Sounds like a fancy way to say ‘wrong,’” I retorted, but a smile crept onto my face. The playful banter was what I enjoyed most about our discussions, even if it made me want to throw the book at him.

“God, you are so stubborn!” Satan replied, a smirk tugging at his lips as he chuckled. “It’s okay to be wrong, you know?”

I shot back, folding my arms defiantly over my chest. “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

He paused, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. Silently, he closed his book, stood up, and took a few steps toward me. “Oh? I can’t make a fool of myself now, can I?”

Before I could respond, he backed me against the bookshelf, the hard wood pressing against my back. My breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Satan's fingers brushed gently along my jaw, sending an electric thrill through me.

He held my gaze, his eyes searching mine, before flicking down to my lips. There was a heartbeat of tension, and then he leaned in, kissing me sweetly.

It was soft and lingering, the world around us fading into the background. My initial surprise melted away as I kissed him back, warmth flooding through me. When he finally pulled away, that teasing smile returned.

“So, am I still stupid?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“HE KISSED ME?? WE WERE FIGHTING AND HE KISSED ME??” I exclaimed, pacing back and forth in front of Asmo’s bed, my heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events.

Asmo giggled lightly, his focus on filing his nails, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Maybe next time he’ll get you naked~”

I stopped mid-step, turning to face him. “Asmo! Are you kidding? We were literally at each other’s throats one minute, and then—bam! Kiss!”

He tossed the nail file aside, leaning back on his hands, looking thoroughly entertained. “Sounds like a classic move to me. Tension builds, and then... surprise romance!”

“Surprise romance? I was ready to strangle him!” I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “And now I’m supposed to just brush it off like it’s no big deal?”

“Why not?” Asmo shrugged, grinning. “Kissing during a fight is like a plot twist! You know you’re dying to see where it goes next.”

My steps faltered lightly, my face flushing. I looked away, huffing under my breath. I hate it when he's right.

@l3viat8an mwah mwah<3

[junebugsarchive]

hellooo🥺🥺🥺 first off, ive been continuing manager kim and really surprised when i see their writings from ur page, oh my god theyre such a hidden gem since its rare AND so good😭��� we surely needs more of those man fict💖💖 oh and and andd, may i req for fluuf goo x reader? The one where their first date becomes bad/ruined but then they still make the best of it~~ hehe. Thank u sm have a nice dayy💛💛💛

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 . goo kim

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐍, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎? / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 . . . ♡

summary: all it took was one glance at the bleach-blonde man you passed by in the mall to know he was the one. but will the two of you push past any adversary, the hardest one being namely the first-date-gone-wrong?

pairing: goo kim / kim joon goo x reader

details: no trigger warnings (first time in forever) . all dividers used are from @cafekitsune, pictures from pinterest !

a/n: hey hos did yall miss me >.< i missed yall so much pls shower this with love haha... sorry for the long wait, had a lot going on in my life and zero motivation to write </3 thank you for requesting, i love my mans handsome sprinkled with a shit ton of crazy ♡ enjoy!

the first time you saw goo, you immediately thought, wow this charmingly goofy-looking idiot needs to be mine.

and it worked. you were a bold woman after all; it was 2024, men were disappointments when it came to making the first move. you had went up to him, smiling prettily as you held ur mobile phone up, asking him for his number, surprised at how widely the blonde man had beamed and immediately pushed his coffee towards his disgruntled looking partner wearing sunglasses (it was a mall, who wears sunglasses indoors?), quickly typing his number into your contacts and saving it as 'goo (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡'. you were almost amused at how there seemed to be a virtual puppy tail wagging vigorously behind the blonde as he hands you back your phone with a radiant smile on his face.

and when the two of you hit off through numerous texts, goo finally popped the question – "go on a date w me?" you said yes of course, but anxious to show off your good points, you insisted on planning the entire thing, even going as far to arrange the date tomorrow.

and goo, being the absolute gentleman he was, immediately said okay and stepped back to allow you to take the lead. perhaps you should have asked for his help, though, because the entirety of last night you were frazzled, practically fighting with the staff on the other line to get a table for lunch with the blonde, and planning out your itinerary for the whole day.

and now, you could barely keep your eyes open, placing heavy foundation underneath your eyes to hide your dark eyebags, and after you had sluggishly gotten ready, you were horribly, embarrassingly late. to the own date you arranged.

when you reached the agreed venue, you were mortified to find goo already waiting patiently, in a jacket that looked suspiciously expensive, and looking as fresh as paint.

"hi," you say breathlessly, smiling at him as you walk up to the man. "sorry i'm late."

goo's previously passive face lights up into a smile, and you are instantly reminded of how he looks like a puppy once more. "don't worry about it," he reassures you, holding his arm out like a gentleman. "shall we?"

you smile and loop your arm around his, making your way to the restaurant you had told him the two of you would be going to, attempting to squash your nerves. he was a nice guy, clearly. what could go wrong?

"i'm sorry, your reservation isn't showing up in our system." your face turns pale and your eyes widen in embarrassment as you stare at the waitress, who looked a little irritated by you. granted, the restaurant was bustling with people.

"that's impossible," you splutter, acutely aware of goo quietly observing you by your side. god, this was so embarrassing! "i called the restaurant last night and got a reservation for two at 1pm." you scroll through your chat logs and show her the number you had called.

the waitress nearly rolls her eyes at you as she impatiently explains, "we have multiple locations throughout seoul. you called the one in the far west, and this is the east. now if you would excuse me, i have customers to attend to." with that, she walks away, leaving you frazzled by your own mistake.

a loud growl from goo's stomach makes your eyes flicker to him as he grins at you, unabashed. "sorry." he says, eyes softening as he adds in a lower voice, "hey, it's an honest mistake. don't worry about it, okay? how about we just go to amother restaurant before doing whatever you had planned?"

"are you sure?" you ask uncertaintly. "i feel really bad for making such a stupid mistake though."

"yeah," he grins at you lightly, and the sincerity on his face makes you smile back. "i'm craving tteokbokki anyways."

your smile grows wider and you confidently take the lead. "i know just the place."

you were kind of regretting your decision now. not that it was goo's fault; you probably should have thought the place you were bringing him through before taking him here. the man was still an absolute gentleman and didn't complain, but you saw his nose wrinkle slightly when you stepped into the cheap-looking place, cringing a little when his prada shoes accidentally kicked against a trashbag in the corner.

you felt ashamed of yourself for bringing a first date to such a poorly kept place as this. but you honestly thought the tteok was good, and the aunty who served them was a kind soul you were familiar with.

the two of you sat in silence at the counter after you ordered two plates of tteokbokki, the air awkward around you.

"i'm sorry, is this too poor for you?" you finally break the silence, not beating around the bush as you stared down at the interesting wooden table, not daring to meet the blonde's gaze.

you could feel his stare boring into your hunched form, and you glanced up, unable to decipher his gaze.

"hm? whaddya mean?" goo asks, smiling warmly at you. staring at his attractive face, you feel your cheeks grow hotteras you tuck your hair behind your ear.

"it's just that you look rich," you explain, the smell of fresh tteok wafting up your nose. "so this kind of place probably doesn't suit your tastes. ah, i should've brought you to a more expensive restaurant, right? i apologize." you smile bitterly. you briefly recall all your previous first dates that have gone wrong, and you quietly wonder if you just had a curse with men.

a large, warm hand lands on yours and you blink up at the suddenly solemn blonde man. "don't say that," goo says in an uncharacteristically serious tone. "i mean, we all make mistakes, right? it's the restaurant's fault. yeah, it's definitely the restaurant's fault." he nods to himself, posing in a thinking position with his thumb and index finger forming a 'v' below his chin, other arm propped against his hip.

you crack a smile, slightly startled as he whips around with a mischievous smile on his face as he gives you a wink and delivers the cheesiest line known to mankind.

"besides, i'm willing to go anywhere as long as i'm with you." your eyes widen as you stare at him in silence, and for the first time in his life goo falters, before you throw your head back, letting out a pure, breathless laugh. and goo smiles in relief, watching you with warmth in his gaze.

"alright, mr. romantic," you chuckle, wiping a tear. "that was so corny." goo'd face falls into one of mock offense and he pokes your side, his tone lightly accusing. "you take that back!"

you burst into peals of laughter as you struggle to fight the larger man off as his hands continuously assault your ribs. "wait— i'm sorry!" you wheeze out your laughter, but the man is relentless in his attacks, and his smile only grows wicked as his attacks increase tenfold and you nearly shriek.

behind, in the kitchen, the old lady smiles fondly as she listens to your laughter, recalling the number of times you've come into her shop. of all the times you've came to her, drunk, angry, happy or sad, this has been the brightest she's seen you with a man.

EXTRA: "jagi~" a creepy voice sings from the door, and the blood drains from goo's face as he slowly drops gun to the floor, a chill creeping down his spine as he neevously looks to the doorway. you smile, eyes drifting towards the broken vase you'd bought a month ago, now lying on the floor in broken pieces, then to the newly refurbished sofa, which soft, cotton insides have spilled out from scratches, and to the coffee table, a crack split down the middle.

"hello, darling." goo says meekly, and nearly shrieking as you suddenly drop your bag, pouncing on him as you tugged his ear harshly.

"dammit goo, i just bought a new coffee table. NEW!" you yell in his face. "do you have ANY idea how much it cost me and how much i had to convince the landlord a gangster wasn't living in my house???" goo opened his mouth ready to say that hypothetically, he was sort of a gangster, but another dirty look from you made him wither down.

"hello, gun." you smile sweetly, mood a complete 360 as you turned to the japanese man, who, likewise, greeted you respectfully with a bow of his head. "do you want some tea? i just got a batch of tea leaves imported from japan." he nods, and you smile wider.

"clean this up." you practically throw your boyfriend onto the ground as you turn to the kitchen. "when i come back with the tea, this place better be spotless."

gun watches in amusement as his friendly rival gets up from the ground, whining about his swollen ear. "aren't you going to help?" he pouts, and gun smirks gleefully. "no."

"dick." goo grumbles, but freezes when your voice echoes from the kitchen, "i heard that!" gun snickers, and goo shoots him a scowl, mouthing 'fuck you' as he bends down to pick up the broken vase pieces.

"you missed one." gun points out unhelpfully, inwardly cackling in glee as he watches the poor blonde glare at him, unable to do anything but shuffle forward to scoop the piece up, shuffling to the dustbin to place the shards inside.

thank you for giving goo this woman. gun silently thanks the heavens as he secretly takes his phone out to film the bleach blonde, all domesticated and demure, sweeping the floor and wiping off bloodstains.

[solsticehymns]

TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 6

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

a/n: guys i'm sorryyyyy i feel evil for teasing this and making y'all wait so long..... i wanted to make sure this chapter was extra extra perfect for u <3 all I can say about this ending is that it's gonna get so much worse before it gets so much better. enjoy reading and once again, thank you very very much for all the love and support on this series and on my page overall, it means so so so much to me. xoxo, sunny ☀️🌻

series page for prev chapters

wc: 2576

6: Liar

— 1 —

By the time I reach the dormitory, Alice and Jade are on my tail, their footsteps resounding with secondhand excitement. I don’t make it more than a few steps inside before Alice grabs my arm and spins me around so fast I nearly stumble.

“Hello? We all saw that.” Her eyes are wild, breath quick, hands gripping my shoulders like she’s about to shake some grand realization out of me. She tightens her hold, giving me a single, dramatic shake. “That was not fake.”

I groan, wrenching away, already making a beeline for my bed. “Not now.”

“Oh, now is exactly the time,” Jade cuts in smoothly, stepping into my path with a knowing look. She crosses her arms, her expression the perfect mix of amusement and analysis. “Because let’s be honest—what we just saw was not part of the plan.”

I plant my hands on my hips, pulse still erratic. My face burns. My brain scrambles for a rebuttal. “You don’t know that.”

Alice scoffs, practically bouncing in place. “Oh, I do.” Her voice is light, teasing, but there’s a lethal edge of certainty behind it. “We saw you.” She enunciates each word like she’s spelling out the obvious for a particularly slow student.

Jade, ever the picture of patience, leans casually against the bedpost, arms folded. “And so did Simon.”

The name lands between us, but instead of the expected gut-punch, there’s nothing. No tightness in my chest. No sick feeling in my stomach. Just quiet, startling clarity.

I exhale sharply, almost relieved. “I don’t even care about Simon anymore.”

Silence.

Alice and Jade exchange a single glance, then turn back to me in eerie unison.

“Ohhhh,” Alice hums, dragging the syllable out like she’s savoring a fine delicacy.

Jade lifts a brow, mock-thoughtful. “So she finally got there.”

Alice clutches her chest as though I’ve struck her with a well-aimed hex. “Took her long enough.”

“We knew, you know,” Jade says, her voice impossibly dry.

I blink. “What?”

Alice throws up her hands. “We knew this whole time.”

Jade lifts a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “Since, like, day three.”

My jaw drops. “Day three?!”

Alice waves a dismissive hand. “Might’ve been day two, honestly.”

A low groan escapes me as I drag both hands down my face. “Oh my god.”

Jade shakes her head, a smirk barely suppressed. “You took your time, but you got there.”

Like she’s settling in for a particularly riveting soap opera, Alice flops onto my bed. “So what’s the plan, babe?”

Desperate, helpless, I meet their gazes. “That’s what I need help with!”

Alice exhales dramatically, like I’ve asked her to solve world peace. “Babe, what do you mean you need help? You like him. He likes you. This isn’t rocket science.”

Jade taps her fingers against her knee. “Honestly, I’m just impressed it took you this long to accept it.”

“This is a disaster,” I mutter, throwing myself back onto my pillow.

Alice’s laughter rings out. “No, this is a rom-com.”

Jade lifts a brow. “Either way, you’re doomed.”

Another groan, muffled as I bury my face into the pillow. “I hate this. I hate everything.”

A condescending pat lands on my arm. "Oh, sweetheart." A beat of silence, then—"But real quick—"

Jade tilts her head, eyes gleaming. "The kiss."

I can’t help it—a giggle bubbles up before I can smother it with the pillow I drag over my face. “Nope. We are not talking about the kiss.”

Alice and Jade exchange a look, then pounce.

“Oh, we are absolutely discussing the kiss,” Alice declares, practically vibrating with excitement.

Jade smooths a wrinkle from her sleeve, deceptively calm. “Was it as good as it looked?”

Alice wiggles her brows. “Did you see stars?”

Jade, ever the menace, takes a slow sip of tea. “Was there tongue?”

I groan into the pillow, but my smile betrays me. My whole body still hums from it, my lips tingling like they’re still pressed to his. I peek out, grinning despite myself. “…Changed my life. That’s all you’re getting.”

Alice shrieks, smacking my arm. “I KNEW IT!”

Jade lifts her tea in a silent toast. “Excellent. That’s all we needed.”

Alice flips her hair, giddy. “I mean, it’s James Potter. He just looks like a good kisser.”

Jade tilts her head. “Yeah, c’mon, the details.”

But the giddiness falters. My stomach twists, the wonderful weightlessness sinking like a stone. Because if I admit it—really admit it—then what happens next?

This isn’t just a game anymore.

A strangled groan tears from my throat as I melt back into the bed. "This cannot be happening."

Alice strokes my back, mock-soothing. "Oh, babe. It already did."

Jade takes another sip of tea, unbothered. "And it sounds like it was excellent."

My pulse stumbles, reality settling in. Alice and Jade continue their relentless interrogation, but I barely hear them anymore.

Because suddenly, it's real.

I actually like him. And, for the first time since this all started, I have absolutely no idea what to do next.

— 2 —

The castle is quieter at this time of night, the usual hum of students replaced by distant echoes of footsteps, the occasional muffled conversation disappearing down a corridor. James has always liked it this way—the stillness, the solitude—but tonight, it only makes him feel restless.

He should be in the common room, joking with Sirius, dodging another remark from Remus about his abysmal essay, maybe even instigating some ridiculous bet with Peter to pass the time. Instead, he finds himself walking with no particular destination in mind, his feet moving on instinct, his body acting before his mind can catch up.

So it doesn’t really surprise him when he ends up at the Astronomy Tower.

Their spot.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair, staring out at the open night sky. She’s not here. Of course she’s not—he wasn’t even expecting that. She left too fast, too flustered, too unwilling to look at him after the kiss. His stomach twists at the thought, because what if she hated it? What if he misread everything? What if this was all just an elaborate game she was still committed to, while he—

No.

He grips the edge of the stone railing, jaw tightening. It wasn’t just a game anymore, not to him.

The sound of approaching footsteps breaks through his thoughts. For a flickering second, he’s not expecting, but hoping that he’ll turn and see her coming through the door now—James turns just as Lily Evans steps into the tower, her red hair catching in the dim torchlight, her arms crossed loosely, her expression unreadable.

He blinks. “Lily?”

She tilts her head slightly. “Didn’t think I’d find you here alone.”

James huffs out a quiet, humorless laugh, leaning back against the railing. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She steps closer, studying him—not in judgment, but curiosity. “Remus told me,” she says simply.

That throws him. “Told you what?”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “That this isn’t just some ridiculous fake-dating plan anymore. That it hasn’t been for a while.”

James exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Bloody hell, Remus.”

She actually laughs. “Oh, don’t be mad at him. I already knew. I just didn’t know if you knew.”

His stomach tightens. He does. Of course he does. He’s known for longer than he’d like to admit.

Lily leans against the railing beside him, her gaze softening. “James, you should go for it.”

He shifts, crossing his arms. “What if she doesn’t—”

“She does,” Lily interrupts with a knowing smile. “And you know she does.”

James shakes his head. “You don’t—”

Lily groans, rolling her eyes. “James. I saw her. The way she looks at you? The way she panicked after that kiss?” She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “She doesn’t just like you. She’s terrified of how much she likes you.”

His breath catches. His fingers tighten against the railing.

Terrified.

The word sticks in his mind like glue.

Before he can fully process it, another set of footsteps echoes from the stairwell. James turns—and everything inside him stops.

She stands in the doorway.

I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have seen that. My heart is hammering so loudly I can’t even think. Before either of them can say a word, I spin on my heel and flee.

— 3 —

The dormitory is dim, the glow of the enchanted lanterns casting soft, shifting light along the ceiling. The sounds of the castle have faded into the background, muffled by distance and stone walls, but I can still hear the faint echoes of laughter, of footsteps, of life continuing outside these doors while I sit on my bed, knees tucked to my chest, bracing myself for what has to happen next.

Tomorrow, I have to end it.

The words settle heavily in my mind, dragging against my ribs like something sharp, something unavoidable. I tell myself it’s for the best, that this was always going to happen, that this was never real to begin with. I tell myself I should feel relieved.

I don’t.

My fingers tighten around the blankets, twisting them absently, trying to distract myself from the ache spreading through my chest. It’s ridiculous, really—how much this hurts, how much I wish I didn’t have to do this. But what choice do I have?

I saw them. James and Lily, standing together in the Astronomy Tower, talking in hushed voices, the kind of conversation that meant something. The kind of conversation that never should have been interrupted.

The kind of conversation that told me exactly what I needed to know.

She still has feelings for him, maybe she always has.

And James—he looked at her like he was listening, like he was considering something important. He looked at her the way I’ve seen him look at her for years, the way I convinced myself he’d never stop looking at her, even if I was standing right beside him. The way he had been looking at me these past few weeks.

So what am I supposed to do?

I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself, trying to push back the lump rising in my throat. The answer is simple. I step aside. I let him go. I walk into breakfast tomorrow, find a quiet corner where no one will overhear, and tell him it’s time to stop pretending.

And I have to be the one to do it.

The thought stings, sharp and deep, but I refuse to cry over this. I refuse to let this spiral into something I can’t control. I will tell him the truth, the easiest, safest version of it—that it was always a game, that I never felt anything, that he can go to Lily now, no hard feelings.

Even if it’s a lie; even if it rips me apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my knuckles into my temple, willing myself to feel something other than this slow, sinking pain. I remind myself of all the reasons this has to happen, of all the things I’ve been telling myself from the beginning.

It was never real. This was always temporary. James Potter has never been mine to keep.

And tomorrow, I will make sure he knows that.

— 4 —

The Great Hall is alive with its usual morning chaos—students filtering in, voices overlapping, the occasional scrape of chairs against stone. I don’t hear any of it. My heart is hammering too loudly, my breath uneven despite every effort to keep it steady.

James is already at the Gryffindor table when I walk in, effortlessly draped across the bench, laughing at something Sirius just said. He’s so unbothered, so unaware of the storm about to hit him.

I don’t let myself hesitate. I can’t.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I weave through the tables and stop in front of him. “Can we talk?”

He looks up at me, still grinning, still light, still completely oblivious. “Morning, love,” he chirps, tilting his head. “You look—”

“James.”

Something in my voice must give me away, because the teasing dies immediately. His expression shifts, humor flickering into something more careful, more aware. Slowly, he sets his goblet down. “Yeah. Alright.”

I turn before I can see his reaction, leading the way out of the hall, my stomach twisting with every step. I don’t look back to see if anyone is watching, don’t check to see if Alice and Jade are already whispering behind their hands. It doesn’t matter.

James follows without hesitation, his footsteps even, unhurried, as if he’s walking into this expecting something entirely different.

We stop in an empty corridor just outside the entrance hall. The space is colder than I expected, or maybe that’s just me.

James leans casually against the wall, watching me, waiting, still too damn relaxed. “So, what’s this about?”

I swallow hard, the words sticking in my throat, caught somewhere between panic and inevitability. “I think… we should end this.”

James blinks.

For a second, he doesn’t react at all. He just stands there, watching me, expressionless. Then, after a long beat, he lets out a short, surprised laugh, as if he must have misheard me. But his hands, once relaxed at his sides, are now clenched into fists.

“Sorry—what?”

I exhale sharply, forcing myself to push through the tightness in my chest. “I mean it, James. We should stop. The plan worked, people believe it, and… it’s just time.”

The smile on his face vanishes, to my dismay.

For the first time since I started talking, he actually looks caught off guard. His lips part slightly, brow furrowing as if he’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t make sense. “Right,” he says slowly, his voice quieter now. “And this has nothing to do with Simon?”

I stiffen.

It’s the easiest excuse. It’s the perfect excuse.

I force myself to nod. “Yeah.”

James studies me, really studies me, eyes flickering across my face, searching for something, waiting for me to take it back, or to look away. I don’t.

After a long pause, he exhales, pushing off the wall, brushing his hands against his robes like this doesn’t bother him at all.

“Sure, darling. Whatever you want.”

It’s flippant. Careless. Said with the exact tone I wanted, the exact reaction I should be relieved about.

Except I’m not.

James has never called me darling like that— not so detached. Not so hollow. It feels wrong.

I open my mouth, but there’s nothing to say.

He nods once, turns on his heel, and walks away.

I watch as he disappears down the corridor, my vision blurring slightly at the edges, my breath coming shallower, faster, more uneven the further he gets.

I should leave. I should move. I should do anything but stand here like a fool, feeling like I just made the worst decision of my life.

But my legs won’t work, and my chest feels too tight, too small, like there’s no room left to breathe. I drop my gaze to the floor, blinking rapidly, trying to swallow the ache curling up my throat.

And as he disappears down the corridor, a new ache settles deep in my chest, heavy and sharp, breaking me open in a way I don’t know how to fix.

It was supposed to hurt.

I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.

☀️🌻

tags: @azure-drag0ness @poppet05 @holholliday @d1lf-loverrr

[forgettable-au]

how long did it take for you to plan out Forgettable?

Uhhh let's see

This might be a long post! But do stick around if you're interested!

Please know that at the beginning I wasn't actually serious about making this a comic, I was just exploring the concept of Papyrus being Gaster and it changed A LOT during development

So I FIRST OF ALL, I started working on this AU back in... october 2021...

I didn't post anything about it because I didn't have social media at the time :0 and this AU was mostly brainstorming!

So, I spent like an entire 2 months researching the papyrus is gaster theory... It was insane... and I grew more and more obsessed with the concept the more I researched about it and made connections I never saw before

I talked about it with my friends and drew art and imagined plot lines

IT TOOK ME MONTHS TO EVEN MAKE WINGDINGS' DESIGN

The first time I posted something about this AU to social media was in February from 2022....

It was great

It got like a hundred notes and that made me insanely happy lol

Uh, then I just kept working on the story! Because the ideas were there but there wasn't actually a solid story....

But, one day...LIKE, SOMETHING FINALLY CLICKED

AND I STARTED TO CHANGE EVRYTHING AND IT WAS FINALLY STARTING TO MAKE SENSE!!!!!!!!!!...........And then I lost my utdr obsession and moved on to another fandom lmao😭😭 that was so bad

Then on October from 2023 I suddenly remembered this AU again and started posting about it again! And it was great! Now I was older and my english was better and my mind was clearer !

But it wasn't until July of 2024 that I FINALLY posted the prologue! :D

Yayyy

So...If I do some maths...

8 months... + 9 months...

A year and 5 months before I posted the prologue

OH MY GOD I NEVER REALIZED IT TOOK ME SO LONG WHAT THE HELL

PLEASE KNOW THAT IT DOESN'T NEED TO TAKE YOU THIS LONG

I'M JUST A PEFECTIONIST

And also I was in high school and I didn't have time to actually work on making pages... the only reason why I had the time to work on the comic is because I took half a sabbatical year and used that time to make the prologue!

Also, I had the story ready MONTHS before the prologue but I didn't know how to actually start it??? The prologue was the HARDEST part

There's like 8 different versions of how the story begins lol....

It was SO hard deciding a starting point for the story...

But after that, it's been was easier doing everything else! And luckily the end is already planned so I won't struggle with that :D

I hope this answers your question anon! It was so fun to remember everything! Makes me appreciate this comic so much more...

If you have a story you want to tell, try not to be a perfectionist like me, or it might take you more than a year and 5 months to even start....

And, believe me, finally starting it makes everything else MUCH easier

[stargildedskies]

How to (not) Study for an Anatomy Exam

Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Minors DNI

Length: 2.1k

You're in medical school with Shoko, but she's bailed on your group study session. Good thing an old friend turns up to help... Wait, what was the next chapter on, again?

Tags: Oral (m receiving), the awakening of a dom/sub dynamic, hair pulling, praise

Join my taglist here!

You pushed the eraser end of the pencil further into your brow, groaning as you forced yourself to read just one more page….. But, then again, this was also your fifth “last page” in a row. Shoko had abandoned your group study session hours ago to go out drinking, and your fatigue had finally set in. 

“Ugh, maybe if I force myself to read it out loud,” you muttered, shifting restlessly. 

“The amygdala is an integral part of the lim-” The door opened with a firm click, and you trailed off in surprise, dropping your head back against the couch pillow with an exasperated sigh. 

“Satoru, I swear to god, if you interrupt me again, I will personally shove-” 

A low chuckle interrupted your threat, “It’s just me. Please finish your sentence, though. That threat against Gojo did sound promising.” 

You groaned, draping the heavy medical textbook over your face to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the sound. “Nanami, I thought you were working tonight.” 

“I was,” he acknowledged. You could hear him walk across the room, and the couch cushion suddenly dipped with his additional weight. Nanami sighed and sat something down on the coffee table with an audible clink. You could hear the sound of a canned drink being opened, and the delicious, blessed scent of coffee filled the air. 

Overly eager for the sweet, sweet hit of caffeine, you bolted upright fast enough to launch the textbook off your face. It fell and hit your thigh, drawing a slight whine from your lips as you snatched the coffee from Nanami’s outstretched hand. You raised it to your lips greedily, instantly downing most of it. 

“I was working tonight, but I clocked out two hours ago,” he continued smoothly, “Do you know what time it is?” 

You pressed the lip of the can to your chin, your expression mildly guilty as you purposefully avoided looking at your long-time friend. “I was only going to review one more chapter.” 

Nanami simply picked his own can off the table and opened it. Your excuse had apparently fallen on deaf ears; he took a slow drink as you pouted, chuckling at the expression on your face. “Shoko texted me and asked me to come check on you. She hadn’t heard from you since she left.” 

“We have an exam next week. I don’t know how she can be so carefree when there’s so much to learn,” you muttered. “I don’t need a babysitter just because I chose to study instead of going drinking.” 

Slowly, Nanami reached out and placed his hand under your chin, tipping your head towards him. His expression was slightly cross, but you were preoccupied with much more important things. The dark suit your “long-time friend” wore fit him unfairly well, and seeing him dressed up only worsened the way you actually felt about him. You’d nursed a crush on him for years, and at this point, you were determined to take that secret to your grave. 

The other glaringly obvious thing slipped out of your mouth before you could formulate a more intelligent sentence. “I… I can see your forehead now,” you stammered. 

Nanami arched a single, golden eyebrow in mild amusement. “I got a haircut yesterday.”

You stared at him. The way his golden hair was swept back tugged at your already suffering heart; it was so mature, so achingly fitting for Nanami. It felt like a small eternity passed as your tired mind unraveled. 

Were his shoulders always this broad? His eyes are such a beautiful color. Oh shit, his hand is under my chin still…. W-were they always this big? I wonder what they would feel like-

“One more chapter!” You squealed loudly, wishing you could trade your reverse curse technique in for the ability to phase through the floor. “One more chapter, and then I’ll take a break.” 

“One more chapter, and then you’ll get some sleep,” Nanami corrected, removing his hand from your chin. You felt a small pang of disappointment at the loss of his touch, but you shrugged it off. 

“Fine,” you conceded, mentally shoving the respectable, hard-working part of your brain back in charge. 

Nanami settled back into his corner of the couch, taking another sip of his coffee. “Can I help you somehow? I have no idea how this type of studying works.” 

He gestured vaguely at the stack of medical books, and you tried to stifle a giggle. “Here, you can quiz me using the pre-chapter questions.”

Nanami nodded, turning his focus to the textbook, and you flipped it open, happy to have him there to help you finish strong… until you were brutally reminded what the next chapter was. You blankly stared at the page titled “Male Reproductive Anatomy” until you closed the cover and stood without another word. Forget phasing through the floor; you wanted to teleport directly to the North Pole and never return. 

“On second thought, I think I’ll just go to bed now,” You looked at the blank wall for moral support, face crimson red.

“I mean, I could still help you study… If you wanted..” He offered nonchalantly. 

You whipped your head back around to look at Nanami, whose cheeks were dusted with pink. For a brief moment, he was blushing like the teenage boy you had once offered to share headphones with, but as he stood, his deep brown gaze locked into yours, and you could only see the calm, capable man he had grown into.  “But I don’t think we will need the textbook.” 

You nodded slowly, and Nanami wordlessly scooped all of your textbooks and study materials into his arms. The two of you made the trip up the stairs to your room in record time. He shoved everything onto your desk haphazardly, opting to take you into his arms instead.  

“How long?” He murmured, his deep coffee-colored gaze full of warmth, a warmth you suddenly realized that Nanami had always reserved for you. “How long have we tip-toed around this?” 

You shivered despite the heat of his body as the man you’d loved for years cradled you like a precious flower. His large hands gently rubbed your back, coaxing a sigh from your lips. 

“Too long,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his. It was gentle, almost reverent at first, and Nanami sighed, deep and rumbling, as he pulled you even closer. Your lips parted briefly before meeting again, the embrace growing more passionate by the second. 

Nanami kissed you like he was trying to commit your taste to his memory like he’d simply die without your lips against his. You were no less eager, reaching up to cup his jaw and pressing your other hand against the swell of his bicep.

Growing bolder, you maneuvered him back until the back of his knees hit your desk chair. Nanami took the hint, parting from the embrace to undo his suit jacket and sit. He gazed up at you, eyes half-lidded and hazy with lust, and grinned lazily. “C’mere then.”

He reached out to pull you onto his lap, but you sidestepped with a wink. Instead, you opted to sink onto your knees, silently delighted by the way his eyes widened in surprise. Ever so slowly, you nudged his legs apart and crawled between them to rest your cheek against his knee. You hummed playfully, tilting your head up to smile at him innocently, “I thought you wanted to help me study… I think I can do that better from here.” 

Nanami dropped his head back against the chair, swearing under his breath. He looped a finger into his tie and quickly ripped it off. It fell to the side unceremoniously, and your grin grew at his usual composure beginning to crack. 

You stroked the inside of his leg with your nails, using just enough pressure for Nanami to feel the touch through his suit pants. He shuddered, and a wicked thought popped into your mind. You grinned again, “Or, if you’ve changed your mind, I could always ask Gojo. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” 

It was an incredibly empty threat; you both knew that, but it still served its intended purpose. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Nanami sat up, his gaze dark and intense as he leaned down to caress your jaw. The touch would’ve been warm and affectionate at any other time, but this one was slow, controlled, and achingly possessive. 

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking tease.” He growled, and the words shot straight to your core. Nanami slowly hooked his thumb over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, forcing them to part. You drew in a shaky breath, and it was his turn to smile. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was silken, dangerously quiet. Sparks of molten pleasure flooded your body, and your brain went fuzzy as you nodded. Nanami slipped the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue, slowly stroking it, toying with you as he thought for a moment. You whimpered involuntarily at the initial press of his thick finger, fighting off the urge to lave your tongue over it. He'd almost seem disinterested if you didn’t know him so well, but you could see his eyes glitter with a potent mix of approval and lust.

Nanami paused the movement of his thumb but left it in place to weigh down your tongue. He tenderly shushed your whine of protest and continued to speak, “If you’re good and finish your studying tonight, I’ll reward you….” 

More white-hot pleasure coiled in your stomach, and your pussy throbbed in response. “Mmmmmhmmm,” you managed around his thumb, looking up at him with your best doe eyes. 

He chuckled again, pulling his thumb out and smearing the leftover wetness across your lips. You eyed the obvious strain of his erection greedily, reaching forward to trace its outline. Nanami groaned, his cock twitching even with the slight pressure. “Eager for this, pretty girl?” 

“You have no idea,” you murmured, quickly undoing his belt and pulling his clothing aside just enough to free his thick cock. You bit your lip as you watched the swollen, leaking tip brush against the material of his dress shirt, leaving a tiny smear of precum on the fabric. Nanami hissed at the sensation, tangling one of his large hands in your hair, partially to hold your hair back and partially desperate for something to ground him. You moved even closer to his lap, leaning down to lap at his cockhead. 

He moaned outright at the first touch of your tongue; you began to explore every agonizingly beautiful inch of him, teasing his shaft with your fingers and plush lips. Nanami’s hand dug into your hair as you swirled your tongue around his tip and swiped it over the top to lap up his pre-cum. His hand clenched reflexively at the blinding pleasure, pulling your hair harshly without even meaning to. 

Nanami froze, about to apologize profusely, but you moaned wantonly, plush lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock. He cursed and barked out a low laugh as the vibrations shot straight through him, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to…. Did you like that?”

You nodded as vigorously as you could manage, taking his cock even further into your mouth and nestling his swollen tip snugly into the pouch of your cheek. Drool fell from your lips, trailing down your chin as your tongue laved over his shaft, but you were far too gone to care. You cupped his heavy balls through the fabric of his expensive underwear, massaging them, and Nanami almost came on the spot. 

He twitched and groaned, breath heavy and uneven as you utterly destroyed the normally stoic man. Nanami ran his other hand back through his hair, his breathing heavy as he took a minute to appreciate the sight of you drunk on his cock. 

His balls tightened almost painfully, and Nanami moaned again, low and needy. “Need to stop…. Gonna cu-”

You shot him an incredibly devious, lust-filled look before pulling away and opening your mouth, sticking out your tongue to catch every drop. Nanami hissed at the sight, stroking his shaft furiously. It only took a few more seconds for him to fall apart with a strangled cry, his cum painting your mouth pearly white. His hands slowly pumped up and down, milking the remnants of his orgasm onto your pretty, pink tongue. 

“You’re perfect…. gorgeous…. a goddess… mine now.” Nanami panted. 

Your pussy fluttered as you watched him fall apart, and you ground your thighs together, desperate to find some relief from the ache in your core as you made a small show of swallowing. Nanami only took a few seconds to scoop you up from the floor and deposit you on the bed. 

“Do I get my reward now?” You teased, voice slightly hoarse. 

Nanami looked at you, his brown eyes filled with such sincerity that your heart fluttered. “I’m going to spoil you until you’re sick of me.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @belle-smith07 @orangecremepuff @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @Msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty

[lilybug-02]

Happy 2 Year Anniversary to The Chara Timeline ✨

I FINALLY made drawing references for you guys, yippie!✨

It’s wild how long I’ve been working on this comic without reference sheets. I’m never that consistent with my art style, so I figured it was a waste of time 🫥💀😔 this is my first full comic okay…

Thoughts and Feelings About the Comic Below ❤️💖💕💞

Wow. It’s been 2 years??? I thought I would be done with this comic in 2 months! I don’t know whether to feel worried or accomplished!!

(With months between each update, I understand why it’s been 2 years. I’m a slow writer and artist and well- many things have come up in my life that had to come first, like my sisters wedding! 💞 and college 😅)

I want to thank my family and friends (WHO DO NOT READ THIS COMIC- THANK GOD) 💕 AND I want to THANK YOU! The readers! 💐💐

You guys are relentless! I’m as impatient as traffic and yet you guys wait for weeks or months at a time for like 4 pages?! You guys don’t even complain!!! I truly want to thank you all for that ❤️ it helps me so much. Being busy and getting burnt out are common and it helps me feel relaxed that i'm not on a timer. Literally tho- you guys keep this comic chugging I swear. Tysm 💐

Unorganized rambling about the comic ahead :) ⭐️🔥

—

My feelings with this comic are actually so complicated. On one hand I hate looking at my older art because GOD IT LOOKS SO OFF I want to stab it, and then on the other hand I am so so proud of myself for even continuing it this far. Ngl the weird route has been one of my favorite parts of this comic. It took me FOREVER to figure out an ending, but damn do I still get chills >:) hehe.

I’m still miffed that I named this project “Deltarune: The Chara Timeline” I could have gone for something so much COOLER. Doesn’t help I use like 7 different titles for it either. We got Deltarune the Chara timeline, Deltarune chara timeline, THE Chara timeline, chara timeline, Ct??? Man,,, I’m crazy. I take after my family so hard. We have 3 names for each of our dogs 💀.

Comic/Animation Tip i have learned. It is VERY GOOD to make the character relatively simple in design. Shape language is also super important, ((but I never really got around to doing that before I was half way through the comic, woops.)) These things can make ur process go by so much faster. This whole comic has been a HUGE learning curve. LIKE OH MY GOD. I had to learn how to draw backgrounds, write dialogue, plan a story, learn how to draw fast and draw noses (which god damn I really still can’t). And I had to learn how the heck to squeeze art into a tiny page and make it not look grainy. It's intense!

Anyways.... this has been such an awesome opportunity! Thanks Toby Fox!

I totally ran out of “art time” for my iPad and wanted to finish this today. So it’s a bit rushed. I’ll add weapons and possibly the other characters later :)

Oh shi- I forgot to add this grainy image of the next few pages lmao

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[Spoilers below cut]

OOH, I'm VERY excited to see another Karen episode today! Back to our roots, huh Team. I see you 😌↕️ and still got "SMG4:" prefix in the title there...

also the pattern's shattered but meh *shrugs* who cares about that

Alright, chat, all bets in! Are we getting the arc this time? Let's see...

(the following is my live reaction:)

SMG4 being sponsored by a DC game oh shit, they've really come a long way..... ROGER CRAIG SMITH?! IN MY SMG4 EP?! welp i did not have that in my bingo card

really funny considering some pages of the Sonic x DC crossover are popping up on the same day (my favorite blue guys 💙)

anyway, about the SMG4 Batman signal....

oh... we're really starting off like this, huh

I can already tell this is going to be an emotional episode. god, this really hits heavy with inflation and stuff.

no... please don't tell me....

NO NO NO

"Eviction notice: Indeed, you have been evicted from the premises. Effective immediately, you are to get the actual hell away from this place. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here. Which was home. Geddit?"

ALREADY TRYING TO PISS ME OFF? BC OH BOY IS IT WORKING. YA VERAS LO TE VOY HACER HIJO DE SU—

alright alright, gotta calm down. there's gotta be another way, right?

oh the kids, nooooo

4 PLEASE HELP THEM

just the fact Karen's able to confide with SMG4, wow. Ever since the "We Must Kill Mario" episode, it seems like Karen's been able to trust him in a time of need, especially for her kids.

Sure, 4 and the Crew always get into wacky shenanigans with a side of trauma (like what happened in Puzzle Park) but she still does trust him, which is very sweet to think about. even if she didn't open up the text message, she already knows 4 would be willing to help her if he could

WHAT?

smh 😔 just another day in the SMG4 universe (also 4 absolutely recorded it for a video, he would)

oh wait he did. shoot. well, at least it was considerate of 4 to let her know anyway

ok side note: I find it hilarious that 4 would be sending memes to anyone he knows besides the Crew (he is a meme guardian after all) and Karen be the one to respond with "K". I love that for him.

huh. the Monopoly Man must've really hit rock bottom to be in a homeless shelter rn

DEPRESSO?! you're back, after all this time?

oh hey Mario! still looking for cheese? understandable (i also love cheese)

Mario: "Mmm, free goo." ...don't do that to me, don't say that *IGBP flashbacks*

NOW HOLD UP SHE'S RIGHT, HOW COME THEY CAN'T GET A SERVING TOO?

YEAH GET HIS ASS

oh, never expected the same shot from The Incredibles movie

OH, ARE WE FINALLY GETTING MORE OF HER BACKSTORY? she did say before that she took the job to make a living away from desperate times

AW that's our lovable goofball, willing to help his friends 💙

Oh. not that i expected much anyway. I thought that maybe a tent?

Really nice of Mario to keep his word and not tell the kids yet

Uh. What's all that about? NO NO go back, what was that?

*head in hands* Team, really? did you really have to dig the knife even deeper with the Koopa family moving in, c'mon

OGH BABY KAREN NOOO 😢

she was really this young? oh hun

*pauses and stares at the Team* alright, do tell. who the HELL is this secret organization?

not only has this organization taken advantage of Karen when she was young and vulnerable, but they also had the audacity of not letting her go after she EXPLICITLY told them she quit a long time ago bc of her kids. Seriously, I bet Karen was even picked solely because she was homeless. Their justification would probably be: "she's got nothing left to lose, that's why she chose us. besides, it's not like anyone's going to miss her if she died on the job"

Not that note, there better not be anyone blaming Karen for not seeing this coming bc if it wasn't obvious, she was a stray kitten desperately trying to survive on her own all her life. Ofc she would take the job, how can she not? There was stability, someplace to go. Even if it came with risks. But above all, she had the courage to leave the job for her kids. if that's not a good mother, I don't know what else to say

man, this organization's EVIL evil

THE KIDS (the Team's trying to destroy me /silly)

FAMILYYYY 🥹

oh right, chat, say it with me now (mickey clubhouse style): Oh, Mario!

AY that's pretty good 😄👍

WELCOME TO THE CRIB ✌️

Karen, you're going to tell the truth eventually. It's better now or never

THIS WHOLE SCENE MANNN, IT LEGITIMATELY MADE ME CRY

IT GOT ME. THIS. THIS IS HOW YOU MAKE AN EMOTIONAL YET SILLY EPISODE.

you did it Team. here you go, my stamp of approval ⭐️

SAME MARIO SAME

uh. what.

we did get 4 and Karen as a fighting duo, could we get one with Mario?

welp Monoploy Man owns Amazon now, someone edit the wiki. but that's only in the SMG4 universe. FUCK

y'know, you could've started with that, Mr. Monopoly

WE"RE GOING HOME LET'S GOOOO 🎉

idc what SOME people, LET US HAVE THIS. let them go home 🥹

*record scratch* wait what?

the walkie-talkie? wha....

WHAT? HUH?!

WAIT NONONONO DON'T CUT TO BLACK TEAM TEAM DON'T YOU DARE ROLL THE CREDITS

*flips desk* are you. fuckin. kidding me? they did that? to US? to ME? AAAAAAAA [We'll Be Right Back, after these messages :)]

Uh anyway, congrats to FalconaVasa for your fanart being featured in the end credits🎉 getting some luigi fanart in here, we love to see it :)

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Nope. I'm still not over that ending. I gotta go and leave the room for a sec. I can't believe we went from emotional to "surprise! it's the start of an arc!!"

TEAM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? AAAAAAAA. AAAAAAAAA.

Alright, I do have to wrap this review so I'll keep this quick. Without a doubt, we are entering into an arc starring Karen and Mario which can easily be connected to the "We Must Kill Mario" and "The Fight of All Time" episodes. As for the antagonist, we have a couple of choices:

The secret organization—they have been a big turning point in Karen's life and they keep bothering her with jobs she doesn't want to do

Marty—we do still have a hit on him and he still has a grudge against Mario

The father of Karen's kids—Karen mentioned it once in the last episode she starred in and may be associated with the organization itself

or an entirely new villain we don't know about

It can't be Mr Puzzles since (1) he's still in prison, (2) it's too early for that, (3) he doesn't have a personal grudge against Karen. And for those who say it's Shadow Man being part of the organization, I'm going to quote from Anaidon here:

Shadow Man is not canon in the SMG4 universe, and is merely an OC Anaidon puts it in the assigned scenes as an easter egg for fans to find. Ofc there is a chance that the Team could propose their OCs/AUs for future storylines (they are pretty cool). But at this time, after all the planning they've done, it just wouldn't be possible. Side note: if the Team's going to introduce a new villain, they plan several episodes for us to get to know the character before an arc actually happens.

What about Niles? We technically didn't meet him until the Revelations Arc. Or even Wren?

Niles wasn't entirely new, he stemmed from the Genesis arc so we as the audience can keep up with what we already knew. With Wren, we've seen him before WS, whenever Meggy retells it. And, knowing Meggy as a character, we knew Wren was a big influence on her. Now, the argument can be said with Mr Puzzles for him not appearing until the IGBP movie (episode-wise). But even then, he actually appeared until the end of WOTFI 2023 and was the mastermind working behind the scenes. His small appearances ARE his build-up to what his character was like.

When we're dealing with an arc, we have to have our main cast. Karen and Mario, obviously, and for the conflict to make sense, the antagonist has to be related to the two. But I never said there only had to be one antagonist. We could have more than one.

As for Mario, we might have to determine which side he's on. Mario accepted the mission given by whoever talked through the walkie-talkie. Accepted it, with a serious tone. It could be that he was threatened or offered a deal he can't refuse.

Well, here's my mini-theory (yes, cue the intro): when the sounds of the walkie-talkie were going off, it reminded me a lot of the static/standing-by noise Mr Puzzles done before, luring the Crew into the basement "No TV Make Mario Not Okie Dokie" and Mario in "Incredible Game Show Spectacular". Like it was hypnotic. If you really think about it, it's really symbolic at the end of the PV movie, Puzzles making the same noise at his defeat (representing the mind control over the Crew) and 4 smashing his head to stop said noise (representing their freedom). But AGAIN, not saying Puzzles is back for this arc. But I think the walkie-talkie noise was a tool to hypnotize whoever found it in the trash, which happened to be Mario of all people. That's why I'm leaning toward the organization or Marty being the ones behind it. Both of them keep a close eye on Karen and Mario that they have a chance to plant it there. And let's go back to the "We Must Kill Mario" episode, where the first thing we see Mario is when he charges toward the trash bin for a wizard outfit. This isn't the first time either when in "Trash Friends", Mario hides in the dump and is willing to eat trash-made spoiled spaghetti for his own purposes. If anyone would be able to catch on to this, it would be these two antagonists, to hypnotize Mario.

Sorry, got a little sidetracked there. More of my fever talk in there. Ben, you have anything to say?

"Something bad is about to happen." (uh yeah, no shit. still not over what you said last time.) another user: "Brings back such memories when you posted 🔔 and the whole (English) community went crazy thinking it had something to do with SMG4" "Calm down. Yeah, I'm going to do that when the time comes, haha" user: "leave us alone dude" (/silly) ":3"

...sigh. Really, Ben? You really are a menace, my god. Well, too bad I'm bilingual. Anyway, this has been an amazing episode with Karen and the kids. Everything from the voice acting to the animation to the script, oh boy. Team, you really did it. It really hit close to home, such a good story touching a bit of reality there. Like I said time to time again, love is a powerful force that helped the Crew overcome numerous obstacles. Even if it came to a cost, these characters always prevailed.

People have been saying that Karen ended up having no actual consequences by the end of the episode, but honestly, I want this ending. Some people are at risk of losing their homes or who already did. Some parents who suffered a terrible childhood do not want to pass it on to their kids. Some don't get the happy ending Karen and her kids did, but it's one wished for. For Karen, a character who we see working at multiple jobs and caring for her kids, let her have this. This show isn't meant to be realistic in the first place, but it does bring in real topics, and having these characters triumph over their hardships, sparks hope for the people also struggling with it.

If they can, you can too.

Well, that's all from me. Kinda left in charge of production last minute, so I gotta go! Thanks for stopping by, I'll see you all next time, and remember: numbers always go first.

....what's that?

I lost the bet so I owe you all cans of Rizz soda and ideas for my AU? uhhhhhhhh 🏃‍➡️🏃‍➡️🏃‍➡️