#Why yes you get a taylor swift reference in the story

[whirlwindimagines]

Can you do a plant/flower shop au vash x reader where he's in charge of the shop and the reader is a customer and becomes a regular and they finally start dating?

I love this! Like can you imagine Vash owning a little flower shop so cute! I’m also a massive sucker for flower language lol but I apologize if it's not super accurate. Also, it's babygirl’s birthday, and well since we saw how his last birthday went! Here is some fluff <3 So happy birthday to my favorite man! Also, requests are open for anything, please send some in! (warning corny af writing below this is like 2700 words of fluff)

‘I was enchanted to meet you’

Vash x Reader (Modern AU)

It starts with an impulse, you were having a terrible day, honestly, you were on the verge of tears and you just needed a little pick me up. Just to add insult to injury you had been caught out in the rain, you were soaking wet and miserable when you passed the little flower shop, you decided screw it! you deserved some nice flowers… and to get out of this weather.

So, without a second thought, you enter the small shop, a bell overhead going off as you do so. It's a charming little shop really, lots of different types of flowers and everything looks so green and fresh. You only feel a little bad about getting the floor all wet, but like plants need water, right? So, it was okay…surly.

“Hi! Can I help you?” a kind voice calls out, and it makes you jump you were so lost in thought that you weren't even thinking of anyone else being here. Turning around surprised to catch the very blue eyes of a guy who gives you a sheepish look, he's a cute, tall blonde, with large circle glasses sitting on his face and he’s wearing an apron, ah he must work here…duh! “Oh sorry, you caught me a little off guard.” You say with a soft laugh, Gee way to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy! 

He doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment or at least he kindly doesn’t point it out. He also doesn’t point out the puddle under you, he seems a little taken aback by your presence. He was probably shocked that anyone had been out in this weather, wait… he asked you a question. “Oh um, I was just…” you trail off like an idiot, a little lost in the blue of his eyes

“Wanting some flowers?” he says with an easy smile, God you must look like an idiot. Why else would you be in here? Today was just not your day, and this guy was being so nice to you! That was probably his job, but you were just one minor inconvenience from losing it. Your eyes drift to the name tag on his apron, Vash…

When you don't answer, Vash looks you over and notices well just how sad you look. “Here, wait by the counter, I’ll be right back!” he calls out, not giving you a second to reply as he disappeared down the aisle of bright flowers. With a sigh, you follow his instructions leaning against the counter, you’ve already made such a fool of yourself, maybe you should just leave. 

But you don't, maybe you are a little curious, and well it is still raining. Vash returns shortly after he told you to wait, he's holding a group of flowers together, they were pretty yellows, pinks, and whites some you recognized like the very obvious Sunflower. It was still very pretty, but now you are just a little confused you didn’t even get a chance to look at the flowers in the store. 

He gives you another sheepish look, as he wraps the flowers into a bouquet and hands it to you. “Sorry… it's just you didn't seem to know what you want so I picked these out for you!” You can see just the hint of pink on his cheeks, the flowers are lovely. “What are they? I mean the flowers what are they called,” you ask, finding the gesture really… nice.

And the way his face lights up when you ask, well it was worth coming in here alright. “Oh! Well, these are Sunflowers, and then these are daisies and Snapdragons with some filler greenery.” As he talks, he points to each flower excitedly telling you a little fact about them, his voice is really nice and he clearly knows his stuff. He looks embarrassed after a while to be rambling on so much, he rubs the back of his head “Sorry… I didn't mean to ramble. I’m Vash I own the shop!” 

Giving him a kind smile, you take the bouquet from him, it's lovely and simply just filled with life the opposite of the dreary attitude outside and the mood you were in when you first walked in, you tell him your own name before continuing to speak “I don’t mind, you really know a lot! How much do I owe you for these.” how could you not accept them, when he went through all the trouble, to select them just for you!

“They’re on the house.” He says kindly, and you can only look at him blankly, because why? “I can pay! I want to pay these are so nice and you went through all the trouble of picking them out!” You start to ramble a little flustered by the whole ordeal. Yeah, it was his job to provide flowers, but when was the last time a cute person had gifted your flowers? 

Vash just laughs softly; it’s a nice sound and he is clearly not mocking you or anything it’s just a friendly chuckle as he puts his hands up in defense. “Really have them! They made you smile and that’s enough payment for me” Vash goes red at his words and at how cheesy they sound he starts stuttering an apology and backtracking, but now it’s your turn to laugh. 

“Alright, thank you.” It really is a sweet gesture and honestly, it did make you smile after the day you had. You’ll have to come back and actually buy some flowers. The two of you continue to chat for a bit as the rain continues outside, he must notice your reluctance to leave back into the rain. 

To your surprise again, Vash hands you an umbrella telling you that you’ll just have to bring it back the next time you visit, he says this with such a sweet smile you can’t refuse. Accepting the umbrella with a thank you and a shy smile, you leave flowers in hand promising you’ll be back. During your walk home, you can’t get rid of the smile on your face.

You do come back, giving it a week or so to return the umbrella to Vash and to pick out some flowers. But it’s a little overwhelming, so many choices. “Need some help?” You don’t know how he manages to sneak up on you so easily, “actually yeah, I’m a little clueless when it comes to this… do you think you could pick some out for me? And I’m paying this time!” You add on quickly at the end, as Vash laughs. 

“Okay give me a second” and with one last look, he heads off in search of the perfect flowers for you, as you wait excitedly by the counter. You certainly could pick out flowers for yourself, but the bouquet he picked for you last time was so lovely that you just knew he would do a better job than you ever could. 

Vash returns with a colorful bouquet in hand, your eyes light up at the display eagerly asking about each flower, he points out the calla lilies, a white camellia, and some yellow tulips. Vash goes over each flower telling you about them, it’s nice you like listening to him ramble. The flowers as always are beautiful. 

“You know each flower is supposed to have a special meaning attached to it,” Vash says offhandedly as he puts the bouquet together for you, and that makes you even more interested, but before you can ask what the flowers, he picked for you mean you realize the time and you have to leave. You make sure to pay for the flowers, tell him goodbye, and thank you before you are off. 

After this you become a bit of a regular to the small flower shop, at this point the moment Vash sees you he knows to just pick out some flowers for you. And you love it, the special care he takes in selecting each flower, how pretty the bouquet looks, and the shy smile he gives you each time he hands it over. 

You also love to listen to talk about flowers, you ask more questions now instead of it just being a one-sided conversation and Vash is more than happy to answer any questions you have. Maybe you're going too often, but you like talking to Vash he’s so cute and nice! And it’s probably just his job to be nice to you. But you are starting to develop a crush, and it's embarrassing! It must be so obvious; you're probably making things awkward. Again, it's his job to be nice to you! You are just looking into things too deeply…unless you're not? You’ve seen Vash help other customers he's friendly of course! That’s just who he is, but it's not the same. Ugh, maybe you are looking into this too deeply. 

As you continue to visit the shop, you notice some more slight changes, maybe you are being bolder more obvious, and Vash seems to be flirting with you. It makes your heart race every time. The familiar bell dings overhead again as you enter, Vash is behind the counter helping another customer he looks up and gives you a smile before continuing to help the other person. Returning his smile, you browse the flowers. Reading the little note cards by each flower makes you remember something Vash said about flowers having meanings, maybe you’ll look up some later. 

A gentle call of your name makes you turn with a smile, Vash looks a little tired, his hair messier than usual he looks like he even has some dirt on his cheek, but he’s got that big smile on his face that he seems to reserve just for you. “You couldn't come at a better time! I just got a fresh shipment. Let me put something together for you!” you can’t refuse that, “Thanks Vash, I know whatever you pick out will be as wonderful as always.” the praise makes his eyes light up. 

Instead of waiting at the counter, you follow Vash watching him pick out each flower with care and telling you the name of each one, but you notice he never tells you what they mean. A couple of pink roses, light red carnations, a bundle of colored peonies, and even some lovely irises. You want to ask what they mean, but for some reason, you don't. Not wanting to break the spell that you too seem to be under. “Peonies are pretty rare, but they are in season and I thought you might like them,” Vash says softly.

Impulsively you reach out toward his face as he turns towards you, cupping his cheek and using your thumb to brush the dirt off his face. His face turns bright red, and you are sure you look just as flustered. Quickly retracting your hand, “Um sorry! The flowers are really nice, let me buy them right!” you manage to say this without stuttering as you turn and make your way towards the counter, God you are an idiot

Waiting at the counter and trying not to die from embarrassment, Vash eventually joins you still looking a little flustered. The two of you stand there quietly as Vash rings up the flowers for you, thanking him softly and hoping not to come off as too awkward you say your goodbyes and head home. The whole walk you can’t help but clutch the flowers to your chest, hoping you didn't ruin everything. 

It's late and you should be asleep, but your mind is still racing. With a sigh, you head into the kitchen for a drink when you see the bouquet sitting on the table. It makes you feel warm, and slightly curious Vash had seemed so excited about putting this set together for you… pulling out your phone you begin to search for what each flower means. And each search makes you blush more and more. 

Pink roses can mean blossoming romantic feelings 

Light red carnations can mean admiration and adoration

Peonies can mean romance and shyness 

And lastly, irises can mean courage 

You have to sit down for a second, you hope you're not giving this more meaning than it actually has. But Vash is the expert why would he purposely put this together for you if he had not meant…this? Did he return your feelings, looking at the flowers you feel determined and come up with a plan, you are either going to look like an idiot and you can never show Vash your face again… or the better outcome is you’ll get a date with the cutest guy you’ve ever seen!

No longer tired, you spend the rest of the night researching flowers. You just hope you don't mess this up…

You couldn't wait a day longer when you enter the store again, maybe you should have waited a couple of days, but you are scared that if you don't act now, you never will. Vash is busy with another customer; he looks up a little surprised but gives you that easy smile. It seems like he’ll be busy for a while, the customer seems very demanding. Perfect it’ll give you time to gather the flowers you need. 

You think you have what you need, holing the flowers carefully in your hands you head to the counter. Vash looks a little surprised, “I know you like to… pick the flowers out for me but I really needed these ones today!” you tell him quickly as his look of surprise turns to amusement, “Sure here let me see them.” You pass them to him, and for a second you see him frown as he looks over each flower. Before his face becomes neutral, and he begins to ring them up for you.  

Delphiniums, Gladiolus, some Stock flowers, and lastly some Lavender roses. You doubt it's a pretty selection of flowers, but they express what you want to say to him. Opening your heart, sincerity, affection, and enchantment. “This is quite a selection you picked out…” Vash says quietly, and when he hands them to you. You hand them right back. 

“These are actually for you.” 

Vash looks at you wide eye as he takes the flowers from your hands, he stares at you and you start to lose your courage here, “I looked up the meaning of the flowers you gave me yesterday and maybe I'm reading too into this… but I spent the whole night researching flowers on how to return those feelings if that’s what you even meant.” You ramble painfully, as Vash continues to just not say anything at all, oh you really done it now! 

He laughs and makes you tense up. He looks at the flowers with a bright smile and continues to laugh he sees the look on your face and reaches out taking your hand in his. “I'm not laughing at you, it's just… I've never been gifted flowers before!” You stare at him blankly… and then blush you literally just bought flowers from his shop and gave them to him to confess. Of course, he’s never got gifted flowers before! He owns a flower shop; you are so dumb. 

“Don’t worry it's really sweet, I love them! And what they mean…” Vash says kindly squeezing your hand, “Um but yeah, the flowers yesterday were a confession of sorts… I was just too much of a coward to actually tell you.” Vash says with a slight laugh and a blush high on his cheeks. It makes you feel better, that Vash is just as nervous about the whole thing as you, it makes you smile and squeeze his hand back. 

“Well, I like you too…and I was hoping, we could go on a date? Start seeing each other more?” You tell him, he smiles letting go of your hand to take one of the lavender roses out of the bouquet and leaning forward to tuck it behind your ear. “That would be really nice, and I was enchanted to meet you too by the way,” Vash says pointing to the lavender rose, he gives you a cheeky smile as you blush. It was so worth it to stop into this little flower shop, you knew you managed to walk out with more than just flowers.     

[moonlightspencie]

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

[zara-renata]

Hello and good morning~ I was listening to RED by taylor swift while working and suddenly ALL I could think of was the Sylus series (and how MC thinks she was rejected). 💙❤️ Think this song fits them so well

I have been meaning to answer this ask since you sent it, but it gave me a little Scenario that I had to carry around in my head until I could figure out how to work it into a story. Your ask, in combination with a post by @leaderincrows about wanting to see Sylus collared and gasping pathetically, led to this story. I hope the result is enjoyable. Thanks so much for sending this ask, and I'm sorry it took 8 million years to answer!

Goodcat code, or how you learned to care for your catboy | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Your crimelord boyfriend disappears for a week, you make yourself sad listening to breakup songs, you learn that he got turned into a catboy, you get assigned a mission on the worst cruise ship ever, undercover shenanigans ensue. Loosely based on the Sylus memory Goodcat Code.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, sylus x mc, second person POV, some Sylus POV MC is referred to by they/them pronouns, intended as a placeholder for your preferred pronouns. Established relationship, can be read as a standalone. This story contains: profanity, activities of a sexual nature, violence, probably too much internal monologue and not enough action, too many feelings and not enough sexual activity, inappropriate use of a tail, an argument with your boyfriend, a happy ending.

You wonder if it’s because you trounced him in kitty cards the last time you played.

The silence. 

For the past week, your phone has been pinging with constant notifications but none with My Sy listed as the sender. Just work, spam, Xavier asking if you want to go to the bookstore the next time you’re both free, Tara spamming you with pleas to go to some shitty club where her latest favorite indie EDM DJ is playing—why she thinks that her insistence that “He looks just like Skye, I promise!” is enough incentive for you to wade through loud, sweaty, touch-feely dancers as you can’t help constantly checking the exits, while simultaneously making sure a molly-rolling Tara doesn’t abscond to the bathroom with a mistake waiting to happen, while being subjected to mediocre beats from her artist-of-the week, is beyond you. “Skye” is gorgeous, yes, but you’d rather admire the real thing up close than squint through a fog-machine haze to look at a cheap knock-off.

Maybe Sylus’s snobbery is rubbing off on you.

Then again, Tara doesn’t know how up close you get to examine Skye on a regular basis, so perhaps you’re being unfair, because you’re in a terrible mood, because you haven’t heard from him for a week now.

Because maybe you won’t have the chance to see “Skye” up close ever again. Because all you have is a deafening silence from him, and it started the day after you wiped the floor with him at the kitty cafe playing kitty cards.

Could something so petty cause him to finally lose interest in you, the way you've feared ever since you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that Sylus may be romantically interested in you?

It’s not your fault that the longer you spend time with him, the more you have unraveled his mysteries. If he doesn’t want to be so easy to beat, he needs to try harder to be less predictable. You never would have thought, when you first met him, that you’d ever think the words “predictable” and “Sylus” in the same sentence, but the mercurial man is like clockwork when it comes to kitty cards.

He always, always offers you the chance to go first. Why on earth would you say no, and then lose the chance to play your inevitably shitty, low-value cards in the matching colored cups, just to prevent him from playing one of his inevitably high valued cards in the matching cup?

He grumbles, tries to give “helpful” advice about being patient and gambling on drawing a higher value card instead, all the while doing the exact same thing when it’s his turn and he has a shit hand. The condescending hypocrite. You stew a bit thinking about it.

And then, you’ve long since learned that the arrogant bastard is cheating while you play. He somehow marks the cards—you don’t know how. Something to do with his evol? He refuses to admit it outright, so you doubt you’ll ever know. But what you first thought was a generous habit of offering to give you two  of his cards for one of yours, actually turns out to be an opportunity for him to offload his low value cards and give himself a chance to poach your higher value cards. You refuse his offers now.

And lastly, you’ve figured out that for all of Sylus’s skill, brilliant brain, and talent at strategy, the man has a few weaknesses that you are ruthlessly willing to exploit to gain the upper hand to beat him despite all of his dirty tricks.

Namely, he’s easily distracted by a few very specific things.

Your mouth being one of them.

So last week, you went first, played your shit cards in the colored cups, refused his offers to trade, and ordered a strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream to enjoy while you played.

He leaned back in his seat at the kitty cafe where he was sitting across from you, manspreading as usual, arms casually draped over the back of the booth, the picture of casual, smug confidence. The dictionary definition of winner. 

“Do you really have the luxury of splitting your focus between the game and your dessert, kitten? It looks like you need all of your concentration just to keep up, let alone win this round,” he drawled, secure in his five point lead over you. It was his turn, and yet he had time to taunt you.

You just shrugged, holding your cards fanned in one hand, dipping your finger in the whipped cream with your other. You brought it to your lips, pretending to think very hard about which card you’d play next when all of them were crap, and rubbed the cream over your bottom lip.

You heard a sharp inhale from the other side of the table, but ignored it. You “absentmindedly” flicked your tongue out, gathering the cream there before swallowing and biting your lip pensively.

“It’s good,” you murmured, not taking your eyes off your cards. “Not too sweet.”

Silence. It took all of your willpower not to look up to see what his face was doing.  But you heard him place a kitty in a cup, its cute little meow signaling the start of your turn.

You let your gaze flick back and forth between the board and your cards. Good. It was working. He played a low value card in a white cup instead of drawing a new card like he should have.

You put your crap sage card in the last sage-colored cup. Sylus tsked and drew a new card.

This time, you picked up one of the glazed strawberries adorning the shortcake and placed it between your lips, sucking on it gently as you “thought.”

The groan coming from across the table was so low that you almost didn’t hear it over the sounds of the cafe—other players chatting, the meows of the kitties, the clink of cutlery and tableware. But you heard it, even through your tinnitus.

You played another low value card in a matching cup—the last one. Unless he had a six, this round is yours.

You finally dared to look up and find Sylus glaring at you, all while petting a beautiful, tawny colored cafe cat that had apparently settled in his lap while you were busy trying to distract him and beat his ass at this ridiculous game.

“Sy, you know the rules of the cafe—no petting the cats unless we pay extra!” You looked around furtively, forgetting the game, worried that the staff were going to get mad and kick you both out for this breach of etiquette. You pay first, then pet!

“I can’t help it if, unlike some, this particular kitty is straightforward enough to ask for pets from me,” he said pointedly. “Who am I to deny its desires?” 

In response, you popped the strawberry fully into your mouth, closed your eyes, and bit down, letting out a genuine little sound of appreciation for the sweet fruit.

Suddenly there was a disgruntled mewl from across the table. You opened your eyes and saw Sylus with a death grip on the cat where he was previously petting it gently. The cat squirmed, trying to get off of his lap. He blinked and let go of the cat, which then bolted off of his lap like he had just yanked its tail—which he hadn’t, but Sylus’s grip was no joke. You would know.

He watched the cat, a rare apologetic look on his face, before turning to glare at you again. “If we get kicked out, it will be your fault,” he accused.

You just looked back at him innocently. “What on earth did I do?”

“Maybe I’ve been too soft with you, and you’ve gotten too comfortable with me—you grow more cunning by the day,” he said softly, almost like a threat, but he looked… pleased.

“Still have no idea what you’re talking about,” you hummed, taking a big forkful of the shortcake and shoving it in your mouth. 

Sylus just groaned again. He lost every game the two of you played the rest of the evening.

When you parted ways with him, heading back home to sleep while he was heading to a meeting, he pulled you into his arms as you stood by your motorcycle. He breathed in your hair and sighed, and then pulled away, turning on his heel, and walking away without a backwards glance.

And that’s the last you heard from him since that night.

You sit at your kitchen table, staring glumly out into the chill fall night. Your phone lights up, but it’s just Rafayel sending a photo of a little crab brandishing a plastic spork captioned Lol littering humans suck but at least this trash is useful for this lil guy he’s got a sword now

You often wonder why both Rafayel and Sylus sometimes refer to humans as if they themselves are not also human. You text back.

You: he just needs a shield. give him a bottle cap and he can fight wanderers with me 

Fried Shrimp: nope he’s my new bodyguard because you suck too and have been too busy lately to guard my body like you promised

You: you’re perfectly capable of guarding yourself you pyromaniac

Rafayel just responds with a poop emoji.

You consider his text. Rafayel may have a point for once—you have been spending every free moment that you're not working with Sylus lately.

Which is bad. You don’t want him to take over your life. You want to maintain a balanced, a healthy relationship with him, if possible. It would be so easy to let yourself be consumed by his charismatic, overwhelming presence in your life. But what happens when he disappears as quickly as he appeared?

You don’t want to think about it. But that point may have already arrived. You stare at your dark phone again.

You could… call him first. Or send a text. But you’re not to the point where you can bring yourself to contact him first. If he wants to talk to you, he isn’t shy about reaching out for your attention. He calls almost every day. To tell you that you need to expect a package. To complain about his bad luck at a poker game with business rivals. To pester you about when you’ll come visit him again. Mephisto hasn’t seen your face for two days, he’s starting to pout. The twins brought home ten different flavors of syrup for the espresso machine, look at what you’re doing to them, they’re going to get diabetes at this rate.

You don’t think you’re to the point of being able to handle being left on read by this man if you send a text first and he doesn’t answer.

It’s time to wallow. You reach for your phone, pull up your music app, and put Taylor Swift’s RED on repeat.

You’ll give it a few more days, and then you’ll put on Olivia Rodrigo. After another week, it will be Sabrina Carpenter, because you’ll probably have entered the anger stage of grief by then. After that, it will be Hozier, when you finally accept that Sylus will never be calling again and try to find the beauty in everything you’ve lost.

***

“Status report?” Sylus growls into the phone. 

“Boss, I really think that you should reconsider this course of action,” Kieran’s voice is just loud enough for Sylus to be able to hear over the absolute cacophony of the closed cat cafe, which is considerable, even with his double, hypersensitive hearing due to his current… condition.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I asked for a status update,” Sylus hisses, and then clears his throat. He totally meant to hiss just then. His hissing has nothing to do with his current affliction.

“But I really must insist—” Kieran tries to argue, but he’s drowned out by the cat cafe’s OTTO.

“Caracal Butler! May I remind you that not only is your customer satisfaction rating in the negatives, but you are also not allowed to make personal phone calls on the kitties’ time!” The OTTO hovers menacingly in front of him.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm. Even the robot should be able to discern his disdain.

“You should be,” it says, threateningly.

“Oh? And what are the kitties going to do that’s worse than what they’ve already done.” He flicks some cat hair off of his bespoke tuxedo. The fact that he’s going to have to get it de-haired and dry cleaned if he ever wants to wear it again just adds insult to injury, as he had been hoping to wear it with you to a Linkon City Symphony Orchestra’s performance soon. He had a matching outfit tailored for you at the same time he ordered this tux, so he has resigned himself to getting the damn thing cleaned when this... ordeal is over.

The OTTO jerks him out of his irritation with its nagging voice module. “It is protocol for this kitty cafe to act as a responsible caretaker for the kitties under our care. We require spaying and neutering of all kitties under this roof. You have not yet received such care.”

The threat in response to his sarcasm could not be clearer.

He narrows his eyes at the OTTO and feels his tail swish menacingly as his ears press flat to his hair.

“Come anywhere near my balls and I’ll fill this cat cafe with so many cat toys of the loud, exploding variety that there will be nothing left of either it, the cats, or you except a smoking crater.”

The OTTO flits backwards out of Sylus’s reach.

“Perhaps Caracal Butler may be allowed a limited number of private phone calls on the kitties’ time without repercussions,” it says, tone placating as it drifts quickly to the other side of the room.

“That’s what I thought,” Sylus growls again, and not because he’s been stripped of his evol and cursed with two fucking cat ears and a tail that betrays his emotions no matter how much self control he tries to exert, but because he meant to growl.

He returns his attention back to the phone as his patience wears ever thinner. “Status. Report.”

“Boss, I really must insist—” Kieran tries again, tone incredibly concerned, before being interrupted by Luke.

“Your hunter is listening to breakup songs and mopily staring at their phone every spare moment they get.”

Sylus’s ears swivel around to full attention and his tail thwacks a kitty climbing tower so hard it’s almost knocked off its base.

“Breakup songs? Why—”

“They obviously think you’ve ghosted them,” Luke continues. “Keep this up and you’re gonna lose them.”

Sylus tilts his head. Could you really believe that he’s capable of ever leaving your side before you tell him to leave and mean it? What an absolutely ridiculous notion. His tail swishes thoughtfully. He did not want you to see him like this—stripped of his power, kneeling to these demanding cats like a… well. Like a fucking catboy butler. He has his pride, after all. He was hoping that the curse would fade quickly and you’d be too busy with work and your social life to notice that he has been absent for a little while. And you hadn’t reached out to him either, during this time. He runs his gloved hand along his bottom lip before realizing that he’s been touching cats all day, makes a disgusted face, and taps his temple instead. Why hadn’t you reached out to him? His mind drifts over memories of all of your interactions with him when you are apart and he's been forced to make do with communicating to you via phone and text.

This is not the first time that it occurs to him that you have never, not once, reached out to him first. He is always the one calling you, texting you, sending you packages.

He stops, tail and ears still. He has noticed it, but he hasn't thought about it deeply. He's willing to chase you to the end of time, after all. But now, he wonders what he's missing. He is almost entirely sure that you miss him as much as he misses you when you’re apart. You always pick up the phone. You always respond to texts. As for sending packages, you've grumbled about not knowing what to gift a man who has everything, but he always reassures you that he already has everything he wants, as long as you’re there.

So why is it that you have never reached out to him first? He flicks his ears. It would be nice, if you reached out first, every once in a while. He doesn't require it. But it would be nice. He tucks that thought away for further analysis after the current problem is fixed.

Time to assess the damage, and then engage in damage control.

“What kind of breakup songs?” he asks.

“Currently listening to RED by Taylor Swift.”

Sylus considers. Taylor Swift isn’t as bad as Sabrina Carpenter, or Hozier. Once you start with Hozier, Sylus will really be worried.

“Are you gonna stop being a big scaredy-cat and contact your hunter now?” Luke demands, sounding absolutely done with his ridiculous boss and his equally ridiculous partner.

Sylus values the intel they just provided, so he lets the insubordination slide. This time.

“I will remedy the situation. You’re dismissed from hunter observation detail.”

All he hears are twinned sighs of relief and then the phone disconnecting. He stares at it. What impudent henchmen.

He turns and wades through the meandering cats to the OTTO.

“I’m leaving, but I will be back to fulfill my contract once a personal emergency has been resolved.”

The OTTO, with his previous threats clearly still fresh in its memory, meekly allows him to pass without any fuss.

He steps out into the cold winter evening, the street lights and bright advertisements of Linkon City temporarily blinding him. Normally he would just teleport along rooftops to get to you as quickly as possible in such an emergency, but with this fucking curse, he has to make his way to your home like a regular human. His lip curls in disgust, but then he schools his face into its customary blank, intimidating expression as he notices people passing by gawking at his swishing tail and his cat ears. He’s drawing enough attention to himself without looking threatening while doing it. He quickly strides to where he parked his motorcycle, jams his helmet on his head, and breaks six different traffic laws trying to get to your place as quickly as possible.

***

You’re trying to wallow, snuggled into your bedding with a tray of some sad soup heated up from a can and a chunk of stale bread, when your hunter watch pings. You flick through the new assignment. Some asshole smuggler in biologically modified wanderers code-named “Snowy Owl” apparently needs to be brought down. You slurp some soup while you try to formulate a plan of action for snaring this new target, who has in turn snared many innocent wanderers to then sell them to shady collectors with who knows what kind of intentions for them. 

This is just the sort of thing that you’ve all too easily grown accustomed to discussing with Sylus, due to his spiderweb of connections through the underworld. But isn’t that part of the problem? Where before you would rely on yourself and Association resources to arrange a mission of this kind, now you’re all too comfortable relying on Sylus for help. That sort of sloppiness is unacceptable, and the gaping absence he’s left behind in the last week only serves to drive that point home. You cannot let the blade of your skills dull because of reliance on your all-too-willing-to-help boyfriend. Maybe ex-boyfriend, you think miserably.

You sigh, leaning back, turning up the music that you had previously turned down to focus on the mission details. You’re trying to drown out all thoughts of the man who you need to get out of your head, only to find yourself yelping in surprise and flinging the tray with the soup at the tall intruder who has just silently appeared at the side of your bed—who you hadn’t heard at all, as if they had entered on padded cat paws.

Only to realize halfway through the soup’s trajectory that the intruder is Sylus and he’s wearing a very fancy suit.

All the previous times you have flung tableware containing hot liquid at him, Sylus has been able to dodge the container, if not its contents, because of his evol. But this time he’s struck square in the chest by both the soup and the soup bowl. It hits one big pec with a dull thud and then crashes to your floor. He stands there, dripping soup, looking down at his dress shoes.

“The fuck, Sylus,” you breathe, not because he appeared out of nowhere in your home, again, but because you can clearly see two twitching, incredibly real-looking cat ears—tawny, fuzzy on the insides, coming to a beautiful, regal black point at the top—swiveling through his gorgeous silver hair. As your eyes travel down his long, lovely body, they catch on a flicking cat-tail with the same coloring as his ears. Something about the fur strikes you as familiar, but you can’t quite figure out why.

“Darling. Dearest to my heart. My heart, in fact, beating within the safety of my ribcage. Could you, perhaps, in the future, try to refrain from assaulting me with molten liquid when I surprise you in your home.” His tail swishes, swishes, swishes behind him, and you’re utterly mesmerized. It takes a moment for it to sink in that Sylus is actually here. You want to scramble off the bed, climb him like a tree, the dripping soup be damned, and just hug him. Now that you’re seeing him in person for the first time in a whole week, you are able to actually feel how much you’ve missed him, instead of suppressing, repressing, pretending that the unending ache didn’t hurt so terribly much.

You’re about to launch yourself at him when you remember why you had been feeling this way all week. Where the hell has he been? And why does he have cat attributes now? Well, more than he already had to begin with, you snicker internally, until you remember that you’re still feeling heartbroken and wary of why he has shown up now after ghosting you all week. Are you being melodramatic? Are you being immature? Are you being unfair? Could you have called him to check in, when he didn’t? You eye his ears. His tail. Yes to all of the above, but it doesn’t change how you simply can’t bring yourself to go to him, and instead draw further back, away from him, on the bed.

He apparently doesn’t miss your movement, as his ears swivel forward as you move, and then flatten onto the top of his head as he assumes an aggressively bored expression on his face.

“Not going to answer me?” he growls. Actually growls, like a cat warning a naughty kitten.

You can’t help yourself. “Who’s actually the kitten now, Sylus?”

His tail flicks violently behind him.

“Careful, kitten. Perhaps you’ve forgotten in the past week that this cat has claws,” he says, low and menacing.

You just laugh at him.

“Mmmm, yes, your oh-so-so sharp claws, which are now covered in soup. What are you doing here?”

He narrows his eyes at your unimpressed reaction to his empty threat. “Do I need a reason to visit my heart?”

The more he acts like nothing has changed, as if he didn’t just disappear on you without a word for a week, the more wound up and jittery you feel. “What heart?” you ask, a little petulantly.

He lifts an eyebrow. “You know the answer to that question.”

“Do I? Not a very important organ, if you can survive a week without it,” you grumble.

His ears swivel forward, and his tail starts to… wag, but his facial expression doesn’t change.

You immediately regret revealing so much.

“Ah,” is all he says, but he sounds pleased. 

You look away, out the window. But all you see is Sylus in the reflection, and the dark night beyond. You’ve said too much already. 

“I’m going to change. And then we’re going to talk,” he announces, and it sounds like a purr.

You feel silly as you realize that Taylor Swift is still warbling loudly in your bedroom about loving him but losing him so suddenly, trying to stop when you’re already in free fall, loving him being like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all. You flick off the music.

He’s here again. He’s here again, but for how long?

You hear water running in the bathroom as you go to the kitchen to grab some towels and return to your bedroom to mop up the soup, tidying your embarrassingly messy flat along the way. You return to bed and wait for him.

After a few minutes, Sylus emerges from your bathroom clad in one of the soft sweaters and silk sleep pants he keeps in your closet. You can’t help yourself again—you stare at where his tail emerges from under the sweater. The flexible waistband of the pants must have been pushed down a little over his ass to accommodate where his tail emerges. 

He strides to the bed and pauses next to it. “May I?” he asks, tail flicking, ears twitching.

You nod, and he prowls onto your duvet on his hands and knees. Before settling next to you, however, he turns in a circle, once, twice, three times, before sinking down and pulling you into his arms, your back to his chest, curling around you. You let him, feeling the flood of safety and sense of wholeness that you always get when Sylus is touching you. You sigh. All of your worries seem so trite now. Why didn’t you just text him first? Why did you wait for him to reach out first? Why are you like this?

As if reading your mind, Sylus says, “Were you worried this week?”

His arms are wrapped tightly around you, he has one leg shoved between yours, and you feel his tail curl around your bare ankle. Its fur is so, so soft.

You nod.

“Why didn’t you call me, then?”

You don’t want to tell him how afraid you are of him finally not answering. Of him finally losing interest. It sounds so pathetic to even think it, let alone say it out loud.

“I’m sorry about your fancy suit,” is all you can say.

He hums, and his tail wraps tighter around your ankle. “It’s a tuxedo. And it can be cleaned.”

“Fancy suit, tuxedo—pretentious, overpriced pieces of fabric,” you tease him.

“My heart is a heathen,” he sighs into your hair. “It’s a tux that matches pretentious, overpriced pieces of fabric that happen to fit your body perfectly.”

“What use do I have for such fabric?” you ask, turning in his arms, lulled by his familiar humor, his still-unexplained tail wrapped around your ankle. You lie on your side, facing him. His ears twitch in your direction.

“There's a ticket to the Linkon City Symphony Orchestra with your name on it. You should note the date in your agenda.”

“What if my agenda is already full? I haven’t heard from you for a week.”

His ears flatten in his hair. “You’d replace me in just a week?”

You hum a little, reaching up to run a finger along one cat ear. He makes a purring sound, deep in his throat, closing his lovely eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replace you, even if I wanted to,” you murmur, lost in his presence again, feeling safe now that he’s here again. But the week was long, and you really were afraid he’d left for good, no matter how silly it seems now. “But maybe I thought you had replaced me,”  you admit, marveling at how soft the ear is, how good it feels to caress it between your forefinger and thumb. You want to kiss it, rub your face all over it. You lift your other hand and fondle his other ear.

His tail loosens on your ankle and begins drifting up your bare leg, the fur caressing your skin so gently, until it curls around one thigh and squeezes between your legs, right below where your thighs meet. You shiver at the sensation and forget to pet him for a moment.

“You should have more faith in your pet. Sometimes cats have business in the neighborhood that keeps them away for a few days, but they always come back home.”

“Did your ‘business’ have anything to do with your new accessories?”

He leans, shoving his head against your hands to remind you to keep petting him, and his tail drifts up, up, until it’s nudging between your legs. You gasp softly at the delicious pressure, but have enough presence of mind to keep massaging his ears.

“Yes,” he murmurs, a little breathless. “Like that.” You continue, and he continues teasing you with his tail. It’s not enough. You want more of him.

“How did you get the cat ears and tail, Sy?” you ask, trying to remain focused. 

The tail nudges you a little harder—you can’t help the jerk of your hips which sends you rocking into him, where you’re met with his hard dick under the fabric of his pants. The sensation of his hardness against your front and his tail at your back is almost overwhelming.

“Your fault, kitten. You and that fucking strawberry last week,” he growls again, flexes his hips into yours. “That cat I was petting was unhappy with how roughly I handled it while you cockteased me with your cake,” he gasps as you grind back into him, as you widen your legs to let his tail do whatever it wants, restricted only by your sleep shorts. “The evol kitties cursed me for petting without paying, and for roughing up the cat.”

You can’t help it. Even through the pleasure, you burst out laughing.

“They cursed you with a tail and ears, and that’s why you avoided me all week?” It’s absurd. All that worry, thinking that he’d finally grown bored with you, because he was too, what? Embarrassed? to reveal that he’d been given such adorable attributes. “You mean we could have been doing this all week?” you ask, incredulous, as his tail rubs against your sensitive spots through your shorts, as it nudges you again and again, as Sylus loudly purrs from the pleasure you rubbing his ears and the friction against his big dick is bringing him.

He opens his eyes, half-lidded, lips parted, panting. One of his hands drifts down your back and takes a handful of your ass, pulling, bringing your hips against his cock again. He grinds you on himself, leans forward, licks a swipe up the side of your face.

“The biological markers that were affected by the ears and tail are tied to my own evol—I don’t have my ability to manipulate energy so long as this curse lasts,” he says, breath hitching with the movement of your bodies.

You lean forward, press your forehead against his, share his panting breath. “What does that have to do with not calling me?” you manage, even though all you want to do is rip his pants down, shove down your own shorts, and impale yourself on him.

“Didn’t want you to see me as weak,” he admits. He opens his eyes, looks into yours. He then kisses you with his full lips, soft, slow, in contrast to his tail still nudging you through your shorts at a steady rhythm, teasing, teasing, teasing.

You pull back from his kiss, catch his gaze again. “Even without your evol, you’re still one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” you whisper.

He pauses, his ears flattening again. “Just ‘one of’ the strongest people you've met?”

You laugh. “I know a lot of strong people Sy. And your new bits are cute, just like you.” His tail firmly nudges you again, once, as if to warn you. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease him.

He just groans and kisses you again, his tongue slipping between your lips, his big hands moving to shove down your shorts. “I don’t make threats,” he says, low, smug. “I make promises.”

You roll your eyes, but neither of you talk any more after that.

***

Much, much later, after you’re thoroughly fucked out, muscles pleasantly sore, as Sylus purrs beside you in sleep, one arm flung over you, you lie awake thinking about his admission of worrying about being 'weak' in front of you. Of the vulnerability in his questions—why didn’t you call him if you were worried? Would you really replace him within a week? 

You’ve been so wrapped up in your own insecurities, so busy trying to protect yourself from what you think is the inevitable pain of being abandoned, that you’ve never stopped to consider what Sylus may worry about. What his insecurities may be. He has always seemed so larger than life to you, from the very beginning. Invincible. Solitary and strong. But as you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve also had glimpses of his own tender heart, the same tender heart he warns you about having—a liability in his vicious world. The care he shows the twins, who he insists are just his henchmen but clearly love him like family. His meticulous maintenance of Mephisto, whenever the bird needs parts switched out, cleaning, or upgrades. His habit of masking his true feelings by maintaining a look of boredom, as if revealing such feelings is a vulnerability that even those closest to him could exploit. Even his tendency to cheat at kitty cards—his luck is so bad, and he works so hard to compensate for it in the best way that his brutal life has taught him. In the end, Sylus is just a person, like anyone else. Complicated. Layered. Strong and vulnerable, cruel and kind. You’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about him as something you crave, something you adore, as well as something you fear, a threat to your heart. Not always as just a person, with feelings of his own.

Feelings that include feelings for you, specifically. He has never hidden his care for you, not since those first days of knowing him. Even if he looks indifferent, the words coming out of his mouth are always achingly straightforward, and sweet in a way that sounds sarcastic but you have learned is actually simply the unvarnished truth. His actions—his gifts, his texting, calling, physical clinginess when you’re with him—in the quiet dark, with Sylus’s soft snores next to you, his cat ears twitching even in sleep, you realize how utterly unfair you’ve been to him. How one-sided this relationship has been up until now in a lot of ways.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to show him how much you care about him too. How safe he is with you, just as he makes you feel safe whenever you’re together. You recognize that you need to do some work on yourself. That it’s not normal to go through life terrified of being abandoned. That the past does not predict the future. You can’t spend the rest of your relationship with Sylus, no matter how long or short it lasts, punishing him for the pain others have caused you.

You roll over in the dark and pepper his face with soft kisses, each one a silent apology for not calling him this week, when he probably needed to be reassured that you still care for the version of him with ears and a tail and stripped of his god-like abilities. How worried must he still be, moving through the world without such abilities, without his customary armor against a hostile world that wants him caged or dead?

As you lean over him, trailing your lips along his skin, his arms snake around you and pull you closer.

“Tell me what I did to deserve this, so I can do it again,” he says, voice raspy from sleep. His tail wraps around your waist.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you whisper between kisses.

“A hunter’s trade secret?” You can hear his smile in the dark.

“A lover’s inability to properly articulate that all you have to do is continue being you.”

His tail tightens around you, and its end wildly thwacks your back. “That sounded pretty articulate to me. Your words are honeyed—is there a catch?”

You kiss him on his soft lips. His hands run along your hair, down your back.

“Only one way to find out,” you tease.

“I see you’re done pouting. Do I get any other rewards for just being me?” he asks, sly.

“Only one way to find out,” you repeat, nudging his nose with yours.

“Oh, I like surprises.”

“I know,” you say, because you do know that. You know so much about this man already.

He pauses, catches your gaze. “Keep it a secret, okay?”

Yet again, he’s showing you his weakness. Reminding you that he’s taking a risk by being here with you at all, just like you are risking your heart, and everything else, by being here with him. “Your secrets are safe with me, Sy.”

He holds you tighter in response, and you fall asleep in his arms. You don’t dream about anything at all.

***

In the morning, after you’ve made him coffee, after you’ve eaten breakfast and you’ve lounged on the couch with him, watching something stupid on tv while he browses online auctions, you tell him about your Snowy Owl mission. He’s heard of this person, but they’re not colleagues or rivals, moving in different circles. But he knows where to locate them, and you form a plan, inspired by Snowy Owl’s interest in modified wanderers and humans, and Sylus’s twitching ears.

“You want me to act as your catboy butler.” He says it flatly. “Boring.”

You nod. “And I’ll be your owner, willing to sell you to the highest bidder.”

His ears flatten against his hair, despite his bored expression, and his tail whips back and forth, back and forth, slowly. He really hates the idea.

“Do you have a better plan?” you ask.

“Better than you selling me off to someone else? I can think of a few. A carefully placed bomb on the cruise ship, for one.” At your look of discomfort, he continues. “You don’t even have to come. Just check off the mission as accomplished on your little Association to-do list.”

You scowl at him. “I’m supposed to bring Snowy Owl in, not assassinate them.”

“Boring,” he repeats.

“I’m not actually selling you to anyone, Sy. I just need a small distraction, much smaller than a bomb,” you cut him off as he opens his mouth. “While I plant a tracking device with them, once we pinpoint who they are.”

He leans over, rubs his cheek against yours. “What’s my reward for considering this utterly boring plan?” He drags your hand to the base of his tail.

You take the hint, grasping his tail firmly, and he groans. You pull a little, and he lets you, rolling onto his stomach on the couch. You straddle the back of his big, meaty thighs and begin palming his tail, starting at the base where it meets the skin of his lower back, circling your thumb and forefinger around it even though it’s thick enough that your fingers don’t meet. You pull, and pet, over and over again, and his purrs are so loud they start to vibrate the couch.

“Say yes,” you demand. “Put that tux and your new parts to good use before the concert.”

“Fine,” he gasps, as his hips jerk a little, pressing himself into the couch.

“Excellent!” You spring to your feet, heading to the shower. There’s not a moment to waste if you’re going to get this mission over with before his tail and ears disappear.

“Stingy!” he yowls. Literally yowls, like a big tomcat thwarted in his attempt at mating by a mean owner yanking him into the house from the alley where his would-be mate was waiting.

“Consider that the down payment. Upon delivery of your promise, you’ll get the rest,” you say in a sing-song voice, just to further annoy him.

“I want double!” he yowls again, but anything else he might be whining about is cut off when you let the bathroom door close behind you.

***

Sylus has been impeccable for the duration of your agreed-upon mission. Poised, elegant, obedient. He has tolerated you treating him like an object to be admired and dismissed on a whim, even when people approached you not just to express interest in your catboy butler up for bidding, but also when they showed interest in getting to know the mysterious owner of said catboy butler more intimately.

The only indication that he was perhaps not entirely pleased with his code name was a flick of his cat ears and one hard thwack of his tail against the rail of the cruise ship when you first said, “Please fetch me more of the strata, Mister Whiskers,” in front of the other guests on the dining deck.

Furthermore, he only tried to attack and eat one person’s pet parrot, and he dropped the seagulls he kept catching at each ordered “Drop it, Mister Whiskers!” from you every time.

All in all, you think that you’re having a harder time than he is. High tea is over, seagulls have been caught and released, and you’ve already collected a number of business cards and varying degrees of subtle invitations to further discuss your catboy butler. You’ve navigated each diplomatically, and are rather proud of yourself, but your own patience is wearing thin as you stand at a luxurious bar in a small lounge on one of the upper decks of the cruise ship. The floor to ceiling windows give a lovely view of the blood-red sunset over the water—it reminds you of Sylus’s eyes. The evening, and therefore the black market trading, is about to begin in earnest. You’re waiting for a mocktail—you’re on the job, and you are a professional after all—when yet another person sidles up to you. Sylus, who has been standing at a respectable distance from you at relaxed attention, hands crossed behind his back, looking coolly over the people scattered at elegant standing tables, ears swiveling at constant alert, looks toward the newcomer, but he makes no move to come closer to you. It occurs to you that one of the reasons you are feeling increasingly off-kilter is that you are so used to Sylus touching you, draping himself over you, maintaining at least a sliver of contact at all times, that this respectful distance makes you feel like he’s standing on the other side of a great canyon.

You turn to the person who is trying to join you at the bar. He’s handsome. Tall, muscular. Dressed nicely, with subtle style. Nothing like your boyfriend’s flashy jeweled necklaces and bold colors. His blue eyes are startling in contrast to his black hair.

“Hi,” he says, smiling a little ruefully, like he wanted to open with something better, but this is all he could think of. He knows that he’s handsome and can skate by on the bare minimum.

You smile faintly back at him, despite wishing Sylus would come closer. “Hi,” you say. You’re not going to do all the work, dammit. This guy wants something from you, not the other way around.

“You’ve caused quite a stir tonight with your… companion,” he says, dark eyebrows lifting, gaze darting to Sylus and back to you again. “It’s made for more entertainment than usual on nights like these.”

You lift an eyebrow in response. “Oh? How so?”

“Watching the sharks circling and getting into tussles about who will ultimately have your pet.”

Your stomach twists at hearing someone other than Sylus calling him a pet. He’s not your pet. He’s your partner. He’s a whole person—a complicated, vicious, funny, cruel, gentle man. You suddenly hate the appraising look this asshole is giving him. But you’re a professional, damn it. You smile wider, going for seductive, amused, haughty.

“No need to tussle,” you tilt your head. “It’s simple. Offer the highest bid, and congratulations, you’re the owner of a new, obedient, exotic pet.”

The fuckhead eyeing Sylus chuckles heartily, as if what you said isn’t disgusting but the height of rich-asshole humor.

“I like the idea of owning the obedience of such a big, powerful creature. Is he willing to do anything you ask?”

The way his gaze keeps flicking to Sylus, as if he can’t help himself, makes you want to remove his eyes with one of your knives and wear them as a warning to anyone else who dares look at Sylus with such depraved, cruel desire.

“Place the winning bid and maybe you’ll find out,” you say coyly, somehow controlling your homicidal urges. Barely.

“Something to consider.” He shakes his head, as if trying to break the spell Sylus seems to have over him. “In any case, after a while, all these events start blurring together. May I buy you a drink, to thank you for dumping new blood in the water?”

This guy is the pinnacle of rich guy ennui. He probably would enjoy dog fights or hunting other people for sport, anything to break through his privileged, seen-it-all, can-buy-it-all numbness. Despite sharing the same status of filthy rich elite, this piece of shit is everything that Sylus isn’t. You want to hunt him for sport. Your nerves are fraying, and it’s getting harder and harder to maintain your composure.

“Shame, I just ordered a drink.”

He leans closer, invades your space.

“Why not indulge? You can have two drinks. And after, perhaps you’d like to show me just what your cat can do… a sort of preview, if you will.” He leans even closer, tilts his head as if a new thought has just occurred to him. “Is there perhaps a possibility of bidding for the pair, instead of just the butler?”

You realize that he’s propositioning you as well as your catboy butler, but the fury you feel at the idea of using Sylus for this fuckhead’s viewing pleasure overrides even your indignation at the insinuation that you, too, are for sale.

Suddenly Sylus’s warmth is at your back and the effect is immediate. Your murderous rage settles inside of you. You turn to him, lift an eyebrow like the imperious owner you’re supposed to be, slightly irritated at your servant’s interruption of… whatever this asshole at the bar thinks he’s getting away with. “Speak,” you command, imitating the most imperious man you know. Sylus, as he has done the entire duration of your appearance in public on this ship, does not react at all to your obvious inside joke.

“My owner,” he purrs deferentially, dipping his head. “You asked that I escort you back to your cabin at 21:00 in order to properly prepare for the bidding.”

The asshole’s gaze drifts from Sylus to you and back again. “A possessive cat, I see. What will he do, when his owner abandons him to another?”

You shrug, as if you don’t want to pull this guy’s tongue out of his mouth and garrotte him with it.

“As I said, buy him and find out,” you breathe through the nausea, trying desperately to stay in character—you are the same ilk as this guy, here to pawn your broken, loyal manservant onto anyone who can afford him. “But he’s right. Thank you for the interesting … offer, but the auction is about to begin. Tick tock, tick tock.”

“You’re a very good salesperson,” he smirks, as if pleased with the idea of depriving Sylus of his beloved owner and seeing if he can bend him to his will. You can’t see why you ever thought him handsome at all. “A raincheck, then, on the drink, and perhaps your own company.”

You just lower your head slightly, barely suppressing the urge to put this man on the ground and punch his smug smile until he is permanently unrecognizable, and the intensity of your renewed desire to hurt him for daring to even look at Sylus has you reaching for Sylus’s arm for support. He tucks your hand into his elbow and leads you out of the lounge.

When you finally reach your first class cabin on this pretentious floating black market, however, you see the strain that his flawless behavior has placed on your miscreant boyfriend.

As soon as the door closes behind you, he growls, deep in his throat, and spins, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you more roughly than usual through the elegant sitting room—the place looks like the interior designer was trying to recreate the staterooms of the Titanic—to the bedroom. Without letting go of your wrist, he yanks the scarlet velvet duvet and crisp white sheets from the bed and dumps them on the floor. The ocean glitters under the bright moonlight outside the bedroom’s window, the salt scent strong. The bed successfully stripped, Sylus now tries to jerk you onto the mattress, but you dig your heels into the plush carpet, feet dragging because despite your own strength, you can’t match his. You jerk your wrist from his grasp and whirl on him. You are willing to die for him, but you aren’t going to let him manhandle you like this.

“What is wrong with you?” you demand, rubbing your wrist.

“If I still had my evol, you’d be on the bed.” His voice is still calm, but his tail flicks angrily.

“If you still had your evol, I hope you wouldn’t use it on me when you’re this upset,” you glare at him.

He doesn’t respond, just begins to pace. Around the bed. Back into the sitting room. He veers into the bathroom and then returns to the bedroom. The anxious energy he’s giving off is palpable—you’ve never seen him this agitated in the entire time you’ve known him.

The longer he’s quiet, the more concerned you become. 

“Sylus?” you ask, softly. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m Sylus again? Not Mister fucking Whiskers?”

You stare at him. Your boyfriend, who is always up for teasing pet names and playful banter, is looking at you like he’s genuinely angry about the silly code name.

“Sylus—?”

His tail is thrashing back and forth as he continues to pace, ears flat against his hair. “Are you sure you’re interested in hearing how Mister Whiskers is doing now? You didn’t seem to be too interested when you were being fawned over by your suitors.”

You stare at him. At the tension he’s holding in his body, the wild movements of his tail.

“Sylus—”

“This was a boring plan to begin with, and now it’s even less interesting. You already have a mountain of gifts from my bidders—leave. Go through them to see if Snowy Owl has taken the bait so we can get this charade over with,” he snaps, effectively dismissing you. He sits on the side of the bed and puts his head in his hands.

With each harsh word, you feel your insides folding in on themselves. He hasn’t spoken to you like this since he held you captive when you first met. He promised he’d never treat you like that again, but you realize he never promised to never speak to you like that again.

Normally, how he’s talking to you—if it were any other person, you’d be out the door. Gone, ghosted. You speak to yourself cruelly enough every day in your own head, you don’t need that shit from other people. You’re even more shocked that it’s coming from Sylus, of all people. The Sylus who has cared for you so patiently, through all the time you’ve been together since that first auction. Who kills with his bare hands, but touches you with those same hands as if you’re made of glass. Until tonight.

You are tempted to run as the betrayal, confusion, and fear of the inevitable end course through you. To just stuff the gifts waiting for you on the sitting room’s coffee table into one of the big duffels you brought, move to another room, and wing the rest of the operation without Sylus. You can pose as a fucking waiter once you figure out Snowy Owl’s identity. You don’t need him for this mission. And you don’t need him in your fucking life, if this is his true self.

As you’re almost to the door leading to the hallway, reaching for the handle, you suddenly remember your promise to yourself, just a few nights ago—the night Sylus came to your place and you learned why he had gone silent for a whole week.

Your resolution that you wouldn’t give in to your fear at his expense anymore, that you would show him you care for him, just as he has done so for you through all of your time together. Even when he witnessed your worst moments, he did not walk away from you. He stayed, even as you pushed him away.

You think about how he was afraid for you to see him stripped of his power, as if you’d ever think him weak, and think less of him for something outside of his control. If I still had my evol, you’d be on the bed. How unnerving must it be for him to be in this shark’s tank without his ability to protect himself beyond his own body? It suddenly occurs to you that if he gets injured while his power is suppressed, he won’t heal like he normally does. The idea that he could get seriously hurt while here, helping you on a mission that has nothing to do with him, hurts a hundred times worse than the words he just snapped at you.

Weren’t you just furious with that fuck from the cocktail lounge for talking about Sylus like he was an object, instead of a person? Sylus is a human being. He’s not a god. He’s not perfect. He’s just a complicated man, a complicated man who hurt you with his harsh words tonight, but who has steadfastly shown how much he cares for you in the best way he knows how. Who could be expected to act normally, to be their best self, if one were to find oneself fundamentally changed, stripped of a lifetime of skill and ability, experiencing strange new urges, and to top it all off, thrown into a dangerous situation? 

You turn and walk back through the sitting room, to the bedroom where he’s sitting, head still in his hands. You stand in front of him.

“Sylus.”

He doesn’t respond. You reach out, gently grip his chin, and lift his face.

He lets you, docile. His cat ears are drooping.

“Tell me,” you order.

He refuses to look at you. His tail swishes petulantly behind him. 

“Tell. Me.” You tighten your hold on his jaw.

His eyes flick to yours, but he keeps his face turned away. “Caracal’s hate water.”

You gaze into his beautiful eyes, fire-lit gems. “And a caracal is the type of cat that you’ve partly mutated into?”

He nods, just a little movement of his head.

“And I brought you onto a boat, surrounded by water.”

He finally turns his head to face  you, gazing at you but not responding.

“What else?” You relax your hold on his jaw, moving your palm to cup his cheek and bring up your other hand into his hair, running your fingers through the soft strands.

“Each person who shook your hand, who handed you their business card, who leaned too close to you… their stench is all over you.”

You run your fingers through his hair until you reach one of his cat ears and gently begin to rub it. He closes his eyes and he leans into your touch.

“What else?”

“If this plan goes sideways, I won’t be able to protect you.”

With each admission, his shoulders relax. His face softens. But there’s still something bothering him. You search his beautiful face. His tail flicks, flicks, flicks.

“What else, Sy?” You lean down, rest your cheek against his soft hair. His ears are velvet against your skin.

He reaches out and clasps the backs of your thighs to pull you closer to him and rests his forehead against your chest. “Even if it’s just for the mission, are you really okay with letting someone else have me?”

It takes you a moment, but when you realize what he’s saying, you’re floored. 

Sylus has spent the whole evening watching you laugh off multiple peoples’ offers to take over ownership of your catboy butler. He watched you tell that little bitch at the bar, more than once, to buy Sylus to find out how obedient he is, how he’ll react to being parted from his beloved owner. Each time, you responded in character, like the idea didn’t bother you at all. Because that’s what the mission required. 

You realize that this entire ordeal has made him insecure. He wants you to be jealous. He wants you to be possessive of him. The thought never once crossed your mind that he would be bothered by the cover you planned for this mission. He is always so self-assured, only hinting at flashes of jealousy in playful, dismissive terms. And yet he doesn’t want you to be okay with the idea of him being possessed by another, no matter how briefly, no matter how falsely.

You continue to pet him as you let everything he just admitted sink in. The water, other peoples’ scents on your body, his lack of power at the moment, your lack of jealousy at the mere idea that another would have him.

After all the times Sylus has comforted you, cared for you, solved problems for you, it’s now your turn to do the same for him.

You drop your hands and he looks back up at you with such raw longing that you almost can’t step away. But you must.

“Would you like to abort the mission?”

He looks at you in confusion. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is your job.”

You smile down at him helplessly. “Don’t you realize by now that you’re more important to me than my job?”

He sucks in a breath.

“How else could I be with the most wanted man on the planet?”

“The only reason I have been able to repress my instincts through this whole shitshow is reminding myself how important this mission is to you,” he breathes, closing his eyes.

“Your instincts?”

“You have no idea,” he says through clenched teeth. His tail is violently flicking again. You can’t bear to see him so distressed.

“Yes or no. Forget what you think I want. If it’s too much, we leave right now.”

Eyes still closed, ears still flattened to his head, he shakes his head no.

“Okay.” You turn, but he reaches out and grabs your wrist to stop you leaving. You put your hand over his. “Since I can’t remove the ship from the water, I’m just closing the window and the curtains so you don’t have to see it.”

He reluctantly releases your wrist. You do as you promised, and when you’re done you return to stand between his legs.

“What do you need to do about how I smell?”

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He grasps your wrist again, pulling your closer. He grabs the hem of your outfit and pulls, tugging it over your head, lifting your legs one by one to tear off your shoes, tossing everything into the farthest corner of the room, until you’re standing in front of him in your underwear. He then pulls you down onto the bed with him, rolling you under him. He presses his face into your neck and rubs, rubs, his tail wagging behind him, his ears brushing against your skin again, their softness making you want to grab them and pull, pull, the cuteness aggression difficult to contain. You satisfy yourself by running your hands through his hair, gripping slightly, tugging, releasing.

As he rubs his cheeks all over you, he pauses to lick your skin, runs his hands along your shoulders, your arms, your waist.

After a long time, his manic movements slow and he inhales deeply. “You have no idea how hard it was to resist the urge to piss on your shoes while you were talking to that bastard in the cocktail lounge.”

You freeze. “Piss… on my shoes?”

“Didn’t you know? Cats urinate to mark their territory,” he licks your skin again, purrs. “And you’re my territory, sweetheart.”

You don’t even know how to feel about his admission. “Well… I might be willing to die for you, but I draw the line at letting you pee on me. So thank you, for not giving in to your caracal urges.”

He pauses, lifts his head. “Don’t fucking say you’ll die, ever again,” he growls. “I forbid it.”

You laugh, a little breathlessly. You decide it’s not a good time to point out that you will, in fact, someday die. Probably sooner than the average human, with your job. So you just say “Okay.”

He looks mollified and his tail begins to swish playfully again. “So that’s a no on watersports, in the future?”

You scowl at him. “Just try to piss on me and see what happens.”

“That sounds like a challenge. And you know that’s like catnip to this big cat. Are you sure you aren’t actually interested in golden showers?”

All you can do is laugh, and pull him down to you, and kiss him so he’ll shut the fuck up about peeing on you.

After a few minutes of mauling him, you groan and pull away.

“If we don’t want this entire thing to be a waste, we need to check the contacts we made today and finish the mission before the auction is over.”

He rests his head against your shoulder. “I know, but I don’t want to get off you. No one can hurt you as long as you’re under me,” he grumbles.

You stare at the ceiling and run your hands through his hair again, fondling his cat ears. “I survived before I met you, because I’m a fucking badass. I’m strong enough for the both of us, especially for a covert mission like this. We go through the business cards and gifts, pinpoint Snowy Owl’s room, you distract them for ten minutes while I plant surveillance, we get the fuck out before the auction’s over.”

“You and I both know how quickly plans get fucked,” he murmurs into your skin.

“And you and I both know that I am skilled enough to unfuck it. And with you here, even without your evol, it’s going to be okay.”

His tail lifts, curls up your leg.

“Fine.” He rolls off of you reluctantly, and you immediately miss his weight. “But the reward for going along with your plan is now tripled.”

“You can have anything you want, when this is over,” you promise, sliding off the bed and gathering your clothes from the floor.

“Even a golden shower?”

You throw your shoe at him. He just catches it and laughs, relaxed again.

After you’re dressed, the two of you tear into the gifts people sent hoping to gain your favor and therefore an advantage in the auction for your catboy butler. Sylus, the spoiled creature that he is, tosses multiple priceless trinkets aside like they’re trash, complaining about being bored out of his mind. However, he bats at a feathered butt plug before realizing what he’s doing and then tosses it as well. The only other thing he expresses even a passing interest in is a little spray can with DOCTOR SLEEPYTIME printed on the side, with the caption reading, “A stalker’s new best friend! Never worry about your target waking up too early again! Ten fewer side effects than chloroform!” You squint at it. The legal disclaimers are a solid block of text underneath the caption. Apparently, one of the side effects that it still shares with chloroform is death. You don’t comment when you see Sylus slip it into the breast pocket of his tux, not even wanting to know what he has planned for it. Finally, you open a small box and realize that the weird little thing inside matches the description the Association provided you of Snowy Owl’s calling card.

“Got you,” you whisper triumphantly, pawing through the packaging to figure out which room it came from.

Sylus stands, prepared to play his part in this little ruse, but you stop him before he opens the door. “Wait a second,” you say, running to the bedroom, throwing open your luggage in the cabin’s closet, and pulling out what you had hastily prepared in anticipation of this mission.

You return to Sylus with the item hidden behind your back.

“You asked if I’m really okay with the idea of sending you to someone else.”

He just watches you in silence, ears twitching in curiosity, tail swishing behind him.

“Of course I’m not. You don’t know how badly I wanted to slit that fucker’s throat who talked about you like you’re not even a person. I feel sick at the idea of anyone else looking at you with anything less than respect and admiration, let alone as some kind of object to be owned. I can’t even stand the thought that I own you. You are wholly your own person, and I’m just happy that you want me by your side, and allow me to adore you.”

His tail swishes faster the longer you speak, but stills at your last sentence. “But you do own me. Body and soul.”

You swallow through the thickness in your throat. You’re not going to cry at his absurd, devoted answer.

“Then perhaps you will do me the honor of wearing this while we’re apart.” You show him the soft black leather collar. “It can only be placed on you, and taken off you, by a person whose pheromones match those of your owner. Your true owner.”

“So this was your trump card,” he murmurs, tail thwacking against the door so hard that the door vibrates.

You shrug. “You don’t have to wear it.”

He flattens his ears against his head. “Nonsense. Put it on me,” he commands imperiously.

You try to hide your smile, but probably fail. “In that case, I hope it will remind you that I am definitely not okay with sending you to someone else. But none of this is real, and when we’re off this boat, I’m never going to ask you to do something like this again.”

He reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist. “How many times must we go over this? You can ask anything of me.”

“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to.”

Without waiting for his answer, you unclasp the collar and lift onto your tiptoes to thread it around his neck. He growls softly, in annoyance or exasperation, and sinks to his knees in front of you.

As always when Sylus kneels before you, you’re overcome with a sense of wrongness. But he seems to want to give this to you, to drive home the point that anything he has is yours for the taking. You can’t find it in yourself to refuse him by insisting that you could have reached his neck just fine without him having to kneel.

You lay the collar against his neck, thread the end through the buckle, and tighten it. His eyes are half-lidded, the glow of his irises spilling from between his eyelashes. He seems to be enjoying this so much that you tighten it just a little bit beyond what is necessary, just to see his reaction. He lets out a pathetic little gasp, and you loosen it, worried you’ve hurt him. But his chest expands and his ears droop, almost as if he’s disappointed. So you tighten it again. “Yes,” he breathes. 

You stand there, with this gorgeous, half-feral man at your feet, fingering the pendant of the collar. You couldn’t afford the platinum that you think Sylus deserves, so silver had to do. But you did splurge a little to have your initials engraved on the inner side of the pendant, so that it’s pressed against his skin where no one else can see it. Your little secret against his pulse.

“We need to get moving, Sy,” you whisper, regretfully.

He rises gracefully to his feet.

“If you want it taken off, just ask.”

He gives you a disdainful look, his only response a tsking sound on his tongue. He leans down, kisses you, once, hard, and then straightens. He turns, throws open the door, and disappears down the hallway.

The rest of the mission goes off without a hitch. When you arrive at Snowy Owl’s door, you pick the lock easily, slip into the empty room, leave a variety of tracking devices in their possessions, and slip out again unseen.

You return to your room, prepared to wait for Sylus, trying to suppress the worry that he’ll have to put up with yet another handsy asshole all because he doesn't want to jeopardize your mission.

However, when you open the door, you find your big, beautiful cat already lounging on one of the sitting room’s ornate love seats, examining his nails and humming leisurely.

At his feet is the asshole from the cocktail lounge,  bound, gagged, and clearly roughed up, his bloody nose dripping into the fabric of his mouth gag.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you ask.

Sylus rolls his head to look at you, lovely eyes glowing in the light of the tiffany lamps on the tables on either side of the love seat.

“I brought a gift for my owner,” he says, ears twitching between you and the asshole who started to struggle at your entrance, making little pleading whimpering noises. “I could tell how much you hated this waste of oxygen the whole time you had to endure his attention at the bar.”

“A… gift?” you repeat.

“You have no idea the self control it took to suppress the instinct to bring him to you as a corpse, as nature intended, when I was done playing with him. But I assumed that would make my owner mad,” he says languidly, but his tail is flicking in agitation.

“Okay,” you draw out the word, trying to process this… gift. “And Snowy Owl?”

“Passed out in a janitor’s closet in the ship’s casino,” he shrugs. “Doctor Sleepytime is true to its claims. A great improvement over chloroform,” he drawls. “I’ll have to leave a good review on their website.”

Relief floods through you. You’re done. The mission is almost complete. All that’s left is to get the fuck off this floating cesspool.

“Thank you,” you murmur. But you’re still left with the problem of what to do with Sylus’s ‘gift.’ “But Sy, what the fuck am I supposed to with… this.” You can’t help but sneer a little at the asshole still struggling on the ground.

“Whatever you want, my heart,” Sylus responds. “He’s wanted in Linkon City by at least three different agencies. But we could just dump him over the railing and be done with it. In fact, I’d prefer that,” he says, perking up.

You march over to him and slip a finger under his collar.

“No! Bad kitty,” you scold, pulling a little on the leather, intending to simply tease him for his outrageous suggestion.

Sylus just gasps, eyes going half lidded again. You stop in surprise at the clear pleasure your rough treatment is causing him, but he wraps his hand around your wrist and moves your hand again, tightening the collar against his neck once more.

“If I’m a bad kitty, you better keep a tight hold on me to make sure I don’t drag home any other unwelcome surprises,” he says, voice low and rough.

“Oh?” You marvel at how lovely he looks, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open, breathing hard. “Maybe my bad kitty needs to be punished, so he stops suggesting I murder wanted criminals instead of bringing them to justice like a professional.”

The man on the floor who is forced to witness this flirtation struggles harder, his whimpers ranging from disgusted to terrified. You ignore him.

“Oh nooo,” Sylus says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he narrows his eyes. “You better make good on your promise. Or are you just full of empty threats?”

You lean down and press the heel of your hand onto his hard cock straining against his zipper, hard. He moans, eyelashes fluttering.

“Get us to the getaway boat without causing a scene and you’ll find out what I’m full of. Or what I’m about to be full of, if you’re a good kitty for me,” you breathe into his ear.

The man on the floor gags a little.

Sylus stands, lifting you in one arm, grabbing a full duffel bag you hadn’t noticed with the other.

“What’s that?”

“Your bad kitty helped himself to a cat treat,” he purrs.

“What kind of souvenir?”

“The loud, prone-to-exploding-if-you-shake-it-too-hard-kind.” He grins at you, canines flashing.

You can’t help yourself. You burst out laughing.

It may have started with trouncing your crimelord boyfriend at kitty cards, but it ended with you learning how to better care for your catboy boyfriend. It also ended with the arrest of both Snowy Owl and the poor bastard who had to listen to you 'punish' said boyfriend from inside the duffel bag that he was stuffed in after Sylus cut the engine of the getaway boat halfway to your destination, too impatient to wait till you both got home to claim part of his reward for being such a good, good kitty.

[monzabee]

in my lover era! (social media au) - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where Charles becomes a Swiftie because of his girlfriend.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (model used: dina dinoire)

Warnings: mentions of kanye west, cursing?, charles being clueless, twitter stans being twitter stans in the best way.

Request: this was actually a anon request!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

your.username just posted a story!

your.username tagged location: paris, france

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourmomsusername, and 128,376 others

your.username: cause we were in Paris!! p.s: swipe for clear skies!!☁️☁️ tagged users: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: nothing shines as bright as you in paris ❤️

danielricciardo: are you happy to be paris????

your.username: oui!

charles_leclerc: your french is getting better, chérie!

danielricciardo: you guys are disgusting

landonorris: yeah

maxverstappen1: yeah

pierregasly: yeah

ynstanforeverr: @tifosimifosi wake up, mom and dad are in paris!!

view all 567 comments

iamstoopid16: is that a taylor swift reference?????

charles_leclerc

Liked by your.username, arthur_leclerc, and 1,945,873 others

charles_leclerc: Y/n told me to caption this "22" but it doesn't make any sense because she's turning 24. It doesn't matter though, joyeux anniversaire, mon amour. Here's to more birthdays with you, and I love you! ❤️

your.username: thank you, my love, i love you too!❤️❤️

your.username: you did great btw

charles_lecler: thank you i was trying my hardest

ferrariheartt: WHY ARE THEY THE CUTEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

alex_albon: well excuse me

view all 785,348 comments

charles_leclerc just posted a story!

your.username just posted a story!

charles_leclerc

Liked by deuxmoi, your.username, and 2,569,349 others

charles_leclerc: romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours❤️❤️ tagged users: your.username

pierregasly: simp

maxverstappen1: simp

carlossainz55: simp

landonorris: simp

charles_leclerc: at least i have a girlfriend, lando

your.username: i'm not crying, you are

charles_leclerc: did i do it right, mon amour?

your.username: YES, YES YOU DID AND I AM SO PROUD OF YOU

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charles_leclerc just posted a story!

your.username tagged location: las vegas, nevada

Liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, taylorswift and 245,987 others

your.username: that moment when you take your boyfriend to meet mother and he makes some friends!! @taylorswift thank you so much for an amazing show, you are the goat!!! tagged users: charles_leclerc, taylorswift

taylorswift: the cutest couple ever!

charles_leclerc: i'm ready for the next concert, mon amour!

view all 124,637 comments

chilicharles: she made him a swiftie true mother behavior

ynstanforeverr: THEY ARE THE BEST

lewishamilton: i though i was the goat? 🤔

your.username: but do you have 12 grammys??

charles_leclerc: taylor's the goat

maxverstappen1: simp

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

Clandestine

pairing: Mr. Ben x fem! reader

rating: Mature (things get a lil heated 👀)

word count: 4.5k

summary: Mr. Ben is daddy, Ms. Jenny is mommy and they’re all a happy family at St. Lawrence High School, no crumbs left. But what happens when the cool aunt moves to town?

warnings: i did my best to leave out specific descriptions of reader except that she does have breasts and wear feminine clothing, infidelity, swearing, alcohol consumption, some heavy making out and implied smut, Ben has a daddy kink (as always, please message me if i missed anything)

a/n: my second submission for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift writing challenge! this one is based on "illicit affairs" from her album, folklore. being one of my top 3 albums of hers, i was excited for this prompt but i laughed so hard when Kel paired it with Mr. Ben 🤣 i had a ton of fun sprinkling in references (as well as a few extra swiftie ones too, if you look closely). this is also probably the longest fic i've ever written since i started writing years ago but this story really just took on a life of its own. i hope you all enjoy reading as much as i did writing and PS happy birthday, Pedro 😊

Teaching European History to a bunch of 10th graders is definitely not for the faint of heart, but the aftermath of the pandemic on the public education system only made the calling harder for you to ignore.

That’s why it meant so much to you when you discovered your students making fancams and claiming you as the “cool aunt.” You knew it was just their way of connecting with you and if it helped them pay attention in class and actually enjoy learning, what’s the harm? Some of the other teachers didn’t share your sentiment, but you were never one to much care about others’ opinions.

Until you met him.

Mr. Ben.

He and Ms. Jenny were the students’ absolute favorite teachers at the school, earning them the coveted titles of Mommy and Daddy. Their classrooms were both on the other side of the school in the math hall, so you never really saw them except at the monthly after-school faculty meetings. But one morning a piece of mail intended for Mr. Ben had been left in your mailbox in the front office by mistake, so you made the journey into uncharted territory.

Reading the plaques on each door, you almost thought you were in the wrong hallway when his name finally appeared on the last one at the end. It was slightly cracked so you could hear the scratching of chalk as he wrote on the board. Knocking lightly to announce your presence, you waited to hear him acknowledge you before walking in. His classroom was decorated to feel bright and cozy and welcoming, soft music emanating from the area near his desk. And the man standing in front of the chalkboard certainly fit the vibe. Soft but sturdy, carefully styled curls threatening to break free. You immediately understood why he was your students’ beloved and had them in a chokehold. You felt your cheeks heat for a moment when he cleared his throat to catch your attention, having been staring in silence for a bit too long.

“Can I help you with something?” Even his voice was so father.

“Um, yes. Sorry. I think some of your mail ended up in my box on accident.” You approached him, holding out the thin envelope. “It’s right underneath yours so it’s an easy mistake to make if you’re not careful.”

His thick fingers brushed yours as he took it from you, and you tried to steady your breath as you felt their brief warmth radiate up your arm. “Oh, good catch. Thank you.” He turned to place them on his desk and you were prepared for that to be the end of it, but he focused his attention back on you. “You’re new this year, right? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ben.” Extending his hand back out to you, you swallowed hard before taking it and replying with your own name. He repeated it back to you in understanding and you nearly melted at the way it effortlessly rolled off his tongue. The bell indicating the beginning of first period interrupted you before the conversation could continue any further. Bidding him a rushed farewell, you hurried back to the sanctuary of your own classroom across campus.

That was months ago. By the end of the year, the passing gestures became more frequent so that you were thankful for summer break to give yourself some time away from the man who had no idea his foot was always on your neck. Finally, you could breathe.

--

The weeks passed quickly and now you’re hauling boxes of school supplies across the parking lot. It’s the week before classes start anew and all of the teachers are trickling back in to ready their classrooms. You’ve just deposited the cardboard box on your desk when your phone chimes with a reminder about the faculty meeting in 5 minutes. You grab your lanyard, weighed down with your ID and keys, and head for the library.

When you arrive, everyone has already taken their seats so the only one available is next to him. Mr. Ben. Steeling yourself, you try to appear casual as you take your place. Feeling your movement, Ben looks over at you and flashes a captivating smile that you return without a second thought.

“Welcome back, kid. Have a good summer?” He launches into the usual teacher small talk but it’s not at all uncomfortable.

“I did. And yours?”

“Not bad. Nothing special, really.”

You hum in acknowledgement before Principal Owens steps up to the front, signaling the start of the meeting. In that moment, you come to a realization that you can’t shake. Nudging Ben’s elbow with yours, you lean closer and keep your voice low.

“I haven’t seen Jenny around, is she feeling okay?”

He chuckles before picking up on your sincerity. “Oh, you didn’t hear? She transferred over to St. Augustine.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really? Can’t wait to break that to the students.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” He chuckles a little harder, earning a couple of sideways glances from others around you. You shrink into your seat a little as Ben attempts to cover with a cough.

You try to ignore the flutter in your heart, but you just have to know. “So are the two of you still…?” you trail off, hoping he picks up on your meaning so you don’t have to say it out loud.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re still together. One less heartbreak for the kids,” he jokes.

“Oh, good. That’s good.”

And you mean it. If he’s happy, you’re happy. But a pit has formed in your stomach and you lose yourself in thought until Principal Owens makes his final announcement.

“There has been yet another surge of fancams created over the summer so as part of the first-day assembly, we will be including a segment on responsible technology usage. Ben, since you ate up the last one, would you mind handling it? After all, it was nom nom delish and had them gagged.” A burst of laughter ripples through the room as Ben runs a hand through his hair, amused.

“Yeah, sure. What could possibly go wrong this time?”

“Thank you. And if it’s not too trouble, I’d like to pair you with our newest target,” Owens gestures to you, conveniently sitting in the same vicinity, “so dubbed the ‘cool aunt.’”

You feel the heat begin to creep up your neck as you realize the implications of the proposal. You look over to see Ben nod and shrug as if to say “why not.” Looking back to the front of the room, you smile and nod in acceptance of the project. Inside, you’re trying not to scream. You don’t notice Ben holding his gaze on your profile for the rest of the meeting.

You retreat to your classroom after you’re all dismissed, willingly losing yourself in paperwork and organizing when there’s an all-too-familiar knock on your door. You look up just as Ben steps over the threshold. And closes the door. And crosses to perch on the edge of your desk, giving you an optimal view of the way his jeans stretch over his sculpted thigh and ass.

“So, how are you feeling about this assembly next week?” He leans forward, propping himself up on one arm. You force yourself to not look at the veins winding and disappearing under his shirt sleeve and maintain eye contact, which isn’t much easier.

“Good. I mean, is it supposed to be scary? What happened last time?” You remember the way everyone reacted when Ben received the assignment.

He smiles and huffs a laugh at the memory. “Let’s just say I was in your shoes now. I was just so confused about the whole concept. But it gave Jenny and I the opportunity to officially come out as a couple, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

The pit in your stomach widened at the mention of Jenny again. “Well, I’m glad I’m working with someone so experienced then.” You mentally kick yourself at your choice of words. What the hell is that supposed to mean? You try to recover. “Honestly, I’m a little flattered. It means the kids are engaged.”

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, it is kinda nice that they look up to us like that. Even if it is a little…”

“Unorthodox?”

“Right. It took me forever to figure out what it meant to have rizz and be a skinny legend.” He almost can’t get through his sentence as he’s interrupted by his own wheezing laugh. He fights it off long enough to finish his thought. “But it looks like you’re in your assembly era now, so what do you say we meet up here tomorrow and put this presentation together?”

You quickly agree, both in excitement and eagerness to get him out so you can get ahold of yourself. Satisfied, he rises but stops before he fully walks away. “By the way, I really like that perfume you’re wearing. Vanilla?”

“A-and cherry,” you manage to choke out.

“My favorite.” He smirks before raising his hand in goodbye and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

--

The next week is a blur. You meet the next day to organize the presentation, as promised, but one conversation topic leads to another and before you realize what’s happening, Ben is putting his number into your phone. Then you’re giving him yours.

You keep telling yourself you’re just friends, like a mantra, but you can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the way he thinks you don’t notice how he inhales a little deeper when you lean into his personal space, taking in your scent. His favorite.

Even the assembly goes off without a hitch. Naturally, the students are disgruntled yet again at being reminded that fancams of their biases are banned, no matter how much they munch on it. But they seem to pick up on the friendship between their daddy and cool aunt and that’s enough to appease the juvenile masses.

You’re both dreading and looking forward to your free period. When comparing schedules, you and Ben discovered you had the same block open, so you agreed to make that a regular coffee break together. He’s already there when you walk in, bursting into his signature smile as you approach.

He stands and pulls your chair out to sit at the small table. “So, how’s the first day been?”

Accepting the gesture and trying not to read too much into it, you breathe out, “Pretty good. I can already tell that covering the Bubonic Plague is going to be interesting, but we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Once more, the two of you fall into an easy conversation when an ill-timed joke has you spilling your coffee. All over Ben’s tie. You immediately jump up, dashing to wet some paper towels. Ben rises to stop you, laughing at your mortification.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Hey,” he grasps your wrists, forcing you to turn and face him.

“I-I think I have a Tide pen in my room, I can go run and get it.”

“No need. I started keeping a spare in my desk years ago. You wouldn’t believe how often I spill coffee on myself.”

With that, you follow him back to his classroom. He closes the door behind you, crossing to his desk to rifle through the drawers, but you hang back. It’s only when he finally pulls out the replacement tie that you allow yourself to breathe and walk over.

Ben holds it up in jest. “See? Problem solved.” You hope he doesn’t hear the way you swallow hard as you watch him skillfully unwind his soiled tie from around his neck with one hand.

However, he struggles to knot the new tie and you speak up, “Need a hand with that?” You don’t know where the confidence came from.

He looks up at you, eyes a couple shades darker. “Would you?”

You round the desk and try to stop your hands from shaking as you reach up towards his chest. Your knuckles brush his soft button-up but before you can grip the decorative length of fabric, you feel Ben’s hands cradling your elbows. You slowly lock eyes with him, and the rest happens too fast for your brain to process.

Ben swiftly maneuvers you against the edge of his desk and leans in close, his nose to your temple, breathing you in. “You wear this just for me?”

You can’t lie to him. “Yes.”

He travels down to your pulse point where the perfume is applied, ghosting over the delicate skin there. “Good.”

He darts the tip of his tongue over the spot before moving to look you in the eyes once more, his hands journeying experimentally down to your waist. You’re fully trapped now. But you don’t want to escape.

He rests his forehead on yours as your eyes flit down to his mouth and back up. “Ben?”

“That’s not my name.”

You’re taken aback by his response for a moment before he leans in the tiniest bit more so you can feel the tickle of his mustache as he whispers, “What’s my name, baby?”

“Daddy,” you breathe out.

His lips twitch into a smirk before crashing against yours, sealing you to him.

--

Your escapades go on that way for months, innocently meeting in the teachers’ lounge to make your coffees and carrying them back to his classroom where they’re quickly abandoned. You easily get lost in each other, you perched on his desk as he stands between your thighs. You’ve discovered he likes it when you tangle your fingers in his curls, but you have to be careful not to muss them too much lest anyone catch onto your illicit activities.

You know it’s wrong. He and Jenny are still together, despite the different schools. Your mind is a constant whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. What if she finds out? Does she already know about you? Where do you stand?

But Ben is quick to make you forget your inner turmoil. You’re in your usual seat upon your throne of his desk, your blouse unbuttoned halfway to grant him access to your chest. His lips are latched to your collarbone, one hand cupping a breast and the other holding the knee you draped over his hip. You feel his hardness against your clothed core, knowing it must be painful for him. But you can’t cross that line. Not here.

As if rehearsed, Ben slows his movements to a halt, trailing his tongue back up your neck and jaw before reaching his final destination and molding your lips together. Wordlessly, you peel apart and put yourselves back together. You dare to break the silence.

“Ben?”

He looks back at you with those adorable baby browns that everyone at the school loves. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing, exactly. I just-” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “At the risk of sounding like a cliché, what about us?”

“I don’t understand,” he says with a furrowed brow.

“I mean. We’ve been doing…this for a while now. And I can’t deny that I’ve grown to love the thrill of sneaking around with you.” You slide off his desk to plant yourself firmly in front of him. “But…you and Jenny...I guess what I’m trying to figure out is-”

“What do we do?”

“Yeah.”

Ben lets out a sigh and adjusts his watch. Noticing the time, he reaches for your arm and the two of you walk to the door. But he puts his hand on the handle before you have the chance to turn it.

“I promise we’ll talk about this. Tonight? I’ll call you?”

You press your lips into a tight smile. “Yeah. Tonight.”

Ben removes his hand and you exit the room. As if on cue, the bell rings to signal the change of classes and you pick up your pace to make it through the sea of students back to your room in time for your next lesson.

--

He does call. And you do talk. But ultimately you agree not to change anything for now. He needs time to figure out where he and Jenny stand but neither of you can bear to let the other go in the meantime. You try to hide your growing disillusionment at your arrangement, but you can’t tell if you’re truly that good at pretending or if Ben actively ignores it.

It all comes to a head the morning you sleep through your alarm, recovering from your hushed over-the-phone activities the night before, and you forget to wear your perfume. His perfume.

You’ve assumed your position when Ben suddenly recoils.

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” You wrack your brain trying to interpret the question.

He slowly leans back in, inhaling deeply to make sure he didn’t just miss it. “Vanilla and cherry.”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. “Oh, B- Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

He nearly whines in disappointment. “Where is it?”

“I slept through my alarm. I must have been moving so fast this morning that I forgot it.” You twirl your fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. “I’ll wear it tomorrow, I promise.” Ben still doesn’t look at you. You tug a little harder, forcing his attention. “Hey. It was an honest mistake, I-”

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question jars you even more than the first. You want to reassure him but you can’t form the words and your hesitation speaks volumes.

“Baby, why didn’t you say something?” Ben pulls away completely now, leaning up against the chalkboard.

“What could I say, Ben?” You’re emboldened now, matching his stance. “That I’m tired of sneaking around? That I hate being the other woman but I feel this crushing guilt about coming between the two of you?” You pause to think carefully about your next words before just throwing caution to the wind. “That I love you and I want people to know it. Don’t you?”

You can see the hurt bloom in Ben’s eyes. “Kid, I…I don’t know what I want.”

But that hurts worse. “Really?” You reach to fix the few buttons he had managed to undo and walk towards the door but he steps in front of you.

“Hey, hey, don’t- baby, just- just hear me out kid, please, let’s talk-”

“Don’t call me that.” Your voice is tinged with cold.

“Call…call you what?”

“Don’t call me ‘kid.’ Don’t call me ‘baby.’ In fact, don’t call me anything until you figure out what it is you do want.” You swerve past him and yank the door open. “Maybe I’ll still be waiting for you.”

It takes everything in you not to slam the door out of respect for the ongoing classes around you.

--

You’ve mastered the separation of your personal and professional lives so no one can see through your façade for the rest of the day. But the last bell couldn’t ring soon enough. You pack your bag and leave just as quickly as any of your students and book it out to your car. You know you’re going to get stuck in the after-school traffic but it’s better than waiting it out in your classroom where he could find you. You’ve just unlocked your door when you hear your name. You don’t recognize the voice over the din of cars and school buses, so you search for the owner and immediately regret it.

Ben raises his hand at a car that stopped to let him pass and jogs across the pavement. You want nothing more than to scream at him but for the sake of keeping up appearances, you smile and let him approach. Your voice betrays your true feelings.

“I told you, Ben, I’m-”

“I know you’re pissed and you have every right to be. But I have something I need to say and I really don’t want you to misunderstand me, so could I please just get through to the end and then you can say your piece?” He sounds out of breath. “Please?”

You simply nod and lean back against your car, waving at passing students.

“Okay. I’ve thought about what you said. And truth be told, I have not been fully honest with you. But I want to change that. I want to talk about this. About us.” He takes a long pause, collecting himself, and you almost think he’s finished before he launches into it again. “Can I come see you tonight? At your place? Or mine, whichever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll cook and we can really talk. Face to face.”

“What about Jenny? She’s not going to wonder where you are?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m taking care of it.”

You take in his words. It’s not exactly what you hoped when he said he had something to say but you’re also standing in the middle of the high school parking lot. It’s neither the time nor the place to hash out your relationship problems.

“Fine. My place. 7:00. But you’re not staying too late, it’s a school night.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ben lets himself smirk for a moment before switching back into teacher mode and bids you good afternoon, taking off back towards the school.

--

It’s 6:57 and you’re starting to curse yourself for agreeing to let Ben come over. But in a way, this is like a first date. Your first meeting outside of campus. And you can’t lie that the prospect of what could come after intrigues you.

7:00 on the dot and your doorbell rings, so you steel your nerves and open the door. Ben looks almost relieved that you actually answered and you step aside to let him in. In one hand, he holds an insulated bag of what you can only assume is ingredients for the dinner he promised to cook and in the other, a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. You accept those with a small smile and lead him into the kitchen. He begins unpacking the bag to start cooking while you dig through drawers to find a pair of scissors.

“Do you want some wine? You didn’t say what you were planning to cook so I pulled out a red and I also have a white already in the fridge,” you offer as you cut the flower stems at an angle and untie the bundle to arrange them in the vase on the coffee table.

“White sounds perfect, thank you,” Ben accepts as he rolls up his sleeves. You pull out the bottle and pour a little into two glasses, handing him one. You go to take a sip before he holds his out to you. “Cheers.” You clink and then drink, resisting the urge to down half the glass in one go.

You stand off to the side most of the time while Ben takes over your kitchen, falling back into your easy conversations without even realizing it. You have to admit you love watching him, the way his hands grip the knife and the vegetables he’s cutting, the sweat glistening on his forehead and the back of his neck from the hot stove.

The rest of the night feels…natural. Effortless. You almost forget why he came over in the first place.

You’re lounging on the couch with him, dishes washed and kitchen cleaned, wine glasses in hand when you finally cut to the chase.

“So what did you want to say to me?”

Ben’s eyes widen slightly and he leans over to rest his glass on the coffee table. “Say what?”

You need him to get to the point before you lose your nerve again. “In the parking lot, you said you wanted to talk. About us. So let’s talk.”

He lets out a nervous sigh and turns to better face you. “Right.”

You hold eye contact, expecting him to say more, but nothing comes. You sit up, putting your glass down next to his, losing your patience. “Ben, if you’re not going to-”

“I love you, too.”

The four words you’ve been waiting for him to say since the first time you kissed. But followed by more silence.

“That’s it?”

Ben opens and closes his mouth, searching for the words, but you cut him off.

“That’s not enough, Ben. The sneaking around, the stolen stares across the room, it was fun but it’s not enough anymore. You’ve made a fool out of me, but more than that you’ve…I’ve ruined myself for you.”

“You…what do you mean?” He leans in, careful not to intrude too far into your personal space.

“What we have is- is different. I’ve never had something like this and I don’t think I ever will again. You’ve shown me things, taught me things that I can’t ever share with anyone else. But this isn’t going anywhere and I’m not sure you even want it to.”

“I do!”

“And Jenny? You can’t have us both, Ben.”

“I told her.” The only sounds in the room are your individual heavy breaths. “We talked and apparently, she’d been feeling pretty distant, too. She was trying to work up the courage to talk me into counseling but when I told her about you…she let me go.” He curls his hand into a fist, stopping himself from reaching out and touching you. “I am yours and only yours. And I don’t care who knows it anymore.”

“Then prove it.” You feel as if your heart is going to burst from how fast it’s racing.

“I will.”

Ben practically launches himself across the couch, yanking you into his arms and smashing his lips to yours, as if pulled by an invisible string. You react immediately, curling your limbs around him, desperate to hold him closer. You gasp for breath when he breaks apart just enough to mumble against your lips. “Where?”

“Down the hall, last door on the left.”

In a flash, you find yourself deposited on your bed, dress crumpled on the floor, fingers flying to undo the buttons on Ben’s dress shirt. You shift your focus to his slacks, his rock-hard bulge ever prominent as you unzip. You move to pull them down his thighs along with his briefs, but he stops you. His shirt now gone, he nudges you to fall backwards onto your pillows and he follows.

His weight on top of you is intoxicating, finally able to feel all of him. The broadness of his shoulders, the contracting muscles in his back, the softness of his tummy pressed to yours. His mouth finds its home in your cleavage, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh, the scratch of his patchy beard bordering on overstimulating.

“Ben-”

“That’s not my name.” He looks up at you with a devilish grin and emphasizes his point with a hard grind of his hips into yours. “What’s my name?”

“Daddy!”

His tongue soothes each bite as he finally journeys up your chest to your neck. Taking in a deep breath, he releases it with a sinful groan from deep in his chest.

“You wear this just for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

[centralperkspoison]

I Can See You - G. Way

PAIRING: Gerard Way x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: sexual references, a little fluffy.

SUMMARY: You and Gerard have known each other for years. When you finally confess to him, everything works out! But how do you keep it as a secret? (Based loosely on I Can See You by Taylor Swift)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

OTHERS: me posting? whattttt?! this was highly inspired by the song I Can See You by Taylor Swift, so I recommend listening to that while you read. Also, I haven't posted a fic in like a year this is crazy. also!!! not my usual work, not that much fluff just more back story. idk i have wrote in a while so im sorry!

---

YOU KEPT EVERYTHING PROFESSIONAL. You and him only showed your true emotions behind closed doors. You'd brush past each other in the hallways most of the time ensuring to not let anyone catch on.

Of course, you and Gerard were friends to the public eye. You and him were the two lead singers of My Chemical Romance, but what happened behind closed doors stayed there.

You'd moved next door to the Way family when you were fairly young, quickly becoming friends with the two brothers despite the slight age differences; Mikey was three years older than you and Gerard was six years older, which is why in the beginning everything had to be quiet. But of course, you had kept your feelings for the nerdy older brother hidden since you were six, so that wouldn't be too hard.

When the band began recording for Bullets you had just turned eighteen and Gerard was almost twenty-five, which is when it first started.

-

"Why don't I understand basic song structure," You groaned. "You clearly have it down."

Gerard scoffed, "I do not have it down whatsoever, I just actually ask for input unlike someone who's stubborn as hell." He laughed. 

It was only the two of you on the bus, the rest of the guys were inside a restaurant buying breakfast while before you traveled four hours to only record half the album for Bullets.

"Here, bring it over so I can look at it." He said, sitting up on the couch on the bus. You slowly walked towards him, hoping he wouldn't realize who it was about. You silently hoped he couldn't tell, then sat next to him and handed him the lyrics you had written so far. He began analyzing them and handed them back to you.

"It's good, but the bridge should have more meaning. You've described this person in such a beautiful light, then the bridge is just happily ever after? Include some of the struggle in the relationship." You nod, beginning to write. He watches you closely from over your shoulder causing you to face the other way and lay down on him so he could get a better view. This was nothing unusual for you two, it was normal for you to lay on him or anyone else in the band.

You took his words into consideration, then started writing lyrics along the lines of 'If only he knew,' and 'I could see you being my addiction, you could see me as a secret mission.' along with some more context.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" He called, you could feel his heart speed up from your spot on his chest. "Yes, Gee?" You say, looking up at him. "Who is this about?" He asked quietly, playing with your long hair. You dropped your pencil and sat up, facing him. "Is that really important right now?" "I mean not really, I'm just a bit curious." He says with a slight smirk across his face. You just shrug and walk to where you were sitting previously to the whole song structure conversation. Once you sit down, he began speaking again.

"I mean of course the description sounds a little similar, short black hair, hazel eyes, crooked smile," He says, walking behind your chair and gripping it and looking down at you from over the back of the tall chair. "I would say Frank, but his hair doesn't exactly fall under that category anymore, and when you think about it, I'm the only one with short black hair now." He smirks. He already knew, but he was just trying to play around and have a little fun before he had to make his own scary confession.

"God, okay Gerard, the song is about you." You roll your eyes trying to make it come out as if you're not afraid to say it. "Wait, you're actually admitting it?" "Yes, I have a big fat crush on you, now can you please just turn me down already so I can get over it sooner." You sigh, and he walks around your chair so you two are facing each other now. 

"(Y/N), I'm not rejecting you," He smiles. "C'mere." He says, opening his arms for a hug, and you quickly throw yourself in his arms. You two linger in the hug for a while before you take a step back and look up at him. You two were so close your noses were touching. 

"May I?" He asks, moving his hand up so he's cupping your jaw. You lean into his touch and nod.

-

After you two established your feelings, your situationship turned into a relationship that ranged from sweet moments to insanely sexual ones, not that you had a problem with that, of course. It was just difficult keeping it from your best friends.

Eventually, fans began sniffing the two of you out. How you would always sit next to each other in interviews, when you were on stage you would always seem as if you were singing to him and he was singing to you, when they watched Life On The Murder Scene every time there was a video on the bus you'd have your legs sprawled out on top of his or you'd be laying on him, and even away from the bus he'd always send you looks.

You started seeing the fans reactions on Twitter in the two of your comment sections.

(Y/N)(Y/L/N): Day off with my boys! &lt;3

mcrlover616: OMG R U AND GERARD DATING

frerard4li4e: Gerard belongs to Frank, girl. Back off.

bugmomma24356: You and Gerard are so cute ug! &lt;3

After trying to cover up everything to the best of your abilities, nothing made them believe you, even your own band mates started thinking the two of you were together, so you two had to act more distant. 

No more laying on him, no more lingering hugs, and definitely no more making out on stage just to "make the crowd go wild". 

-

The two of you had to be entirely secret for almost a year now, and it was the first night of your new tour, Rise Against the Black Parade. 

Gerard brushes his shoulder against yours in the hallway while you two walk into the dressing room, shooting you a look. "Oh sorry, (Y/N)." He says quietly and slides his arm across your back before sitting two seats away from you in the dressing room. 

Makeup took a while, but you and Gerard were the last to finish. Once your artists left the room he sprung up to lock the door, and quickly met you in the middle of the room. 

He rested his hands on your hips and you hand your arms on the back of his neck, while he pressed his lips to yours aggressively. You parted from him for a moment, "Now don't go messing up our makeup," You smirked. "We can fix it ourselves." He grunts, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

The two of you were in there for a total of five minutes before someone started knocking on the dressing room door, causing you to jump like two teenagers caught by parents. "Hello? Who's in there, we need to change!" You hear Frank say from the other side of the door. The two of you quickly check your makeup to make sure it wasn't messed up, then you walked to the door to unlock it before turning to Gerard.

"You know, if stopped hiding... it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." You said and he began to shake his head. "The age difference, (Y/N)." "It's six years, Gee. At least it's not like twenty or thirty like some other couples." You say, causing him to shrug. "I guess it's not the worst thing in the world." 

You walk over and unlock the door allowing Frank to come in with the costume cart. Once he realized it was the two of you he gasped. "You?" He said pointing to Gerard, "And you?" He said pointing to you. You turn to Gerard and tilt your head. "Yeah yeah, big deal." He said walking over to wrap an arm around your waist.  That night was one of your best shows yet. You two started showing affection on stage once again, you put your emotion back into your lyrics, and you even got a chance to preform the song you wrote for Gerard that started the whole relationship.

[seasoningyeeting]

HAPPY CAPTAIN AMERICA DAY

You probably can’t tell this from my blog, but this is like, *my* movie. It’s just…my movie. Everyone associates me with this movie, just like they associate me with Vox and Taylor Swift. I’ve seen this movie, an insurmountable amount of times, to the point of where I know the line of just about every single character, I remember when all the little music cues come in, and my entire existence is just…LITTERED with traces of this movie. I’ve tried so hard to get my claws on merch and items from this specific era of movie, and obviously, with it being 10 years old now, that’s incredibly difficult to do. It’s weird, I feel inferior most days, because my favorite things don’t really “stack up” against other people’s favorites, especially with me being so involved in the art ‘world’. Like, it’s very difficult to explain why this is my favorite movie. Because there is no meaning to it by the majority of people’s standards. But this is the movie that made me want my own TV show. The camera angles when Steve talks on the PA system are just…I can’t even. Chris Evans’ delivery choice on “absolute control”, coupled with the complete lack of outside sound, were jaw dropping to me 10 years ago, and they still have the exact same effect on me now. The witty banter between Nat and Steve actually being smart and witty, and not just “witty for the sake of her being pretty”, also stuck out to me. The mall dialogue is one of my most favorite little story telling pockets I’ve ever seen. She was funny in her own way. Yes, the physical impracticalities of Natasha in this movie still irritate me, (her hair when she comes out of Sam’s bathroom? Really? Come on.) but it characterized her a hell of a lot better than the other movies did. (Aside from her own.) Another thing I always loved, was the absence of references to other parts of Marvel at the time. Like yeah it had references, but they were absolutely necessary not just to the plot, but also for the audience to start understanding Steve as a character. His little hint of exasperation on “Stark?” while still remaining cordial with Nick, is *chefs kiss*. That ONE single line, conveys all of his feelings about Tony up to that point in time: he knows he’s damn good at what he does, but that still doesn’t negate the fact, in Steve’s mind, that Tony still has the capacity for selfishness and recklessness. I also love that one-liner, because they’ve gotta remember from a directorial standpoint, that to we as an audience, Steve has pretty much only just come back. That itty bitty line really hammers that down. His exasperation isn’t just at Tony, it’s at technology in general. It all clicks for him: this is a necessary evil. It’s a new world, and Nick even says that to him, multiple times throughout the film. And with that being a recurring theme, it shows us how flawed this iteration of Steve really was. Of course he was a good person overall, but he still struggled with putting himself on a pedestal. His internal struggle with how he views himself, is also reflected in his treatment of Bucky. Something I wish more people would clue into, is Steve wasn’t denying that fact that Bucky is different now, he was trying, to convince his equally traumatized self, that Bucky wasn’t different. His rational brain knew Bucky wasn’t the same, but we see bits and pieces of ‘irrational’ bleeding heart Steve, come back into the picture, every time they’re on screen together. Very few actors, (especially nowadays,) can act with their eyes, and nothing else. Sebastian Stan? Is the MAN of eye-acting. Even now, he remains a criminally underrated performer. The artistic genius of the costume design, making the mask and goggles two separate pieces, was also half the reason he was able to convey an entire lifetime’s worth of a character’s story, just through eye contact. And the moments where he would break eye contact were SO poignant. Because yet another thing I wish people would understand, is Bucky wasn’t triggered by Steve’s devastation in “Bucky?”, he was trigged just by seeing Steve. Cont.

[smoooothoperator]

What A Shame

01: Red

Driver! Charles Leclerc x Singer! OC (Juliette Morelli)

Exes to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Childhood Sweathearts

Summary: two once lovers see each other again after ten years. Will things go well?

Words: 2.3k

a/n: hello and welcome to my newest fic!!! I really hope everyone enjoys this story since it's the first one I write after a long time!

Every interaction is very welcomed!!!!

Masterlist

next part

Just to get some things clear:

this fic happens on 2030 and there will be some flashbacks of previous years, making Charles be 32 years old

most of the songs I'll be using or make references are from Taylor Swift, and if you want to I could post the playlist I'm listening while I write

🎤

Maid of honor. The most important woman of the bridesmaids, the person that will be there for the bride whenever she needs her. Historically, the maid of honor was the attendant of the a queen in royal households or the most important woman of the house; she was a maiden that never have been married and a virgin. A woman that could be there for someone superior or more important for her.

When you have years of experience being the maid of honor, supporting and helping your friends on their most important day, you get used to the term. It's easy to joke and laugh about it, to ignore the ache on the chest when friends ask one more time to be their maid of honor.

"You should work as a wedding planner" the parents of the bride use to tell me, patting my back and congratulating me for my great job.

"Too bad I'm a singer, huh?" I use to answer them with a smile, hiding the pain of their words.

They never ask why I'm always the maid of honor. Why I'm always there for their daughters, making sure everything is perfect and ready for them, telling always the same line after my speech.

"With love, Juliette: always the maid of honor but never the bride" I use to say, turning off the mic and smiling at my friends, hearing laughs and people clapping, not knowing that it hurts admitting to myself that I'll never be on that spot of the table wearing a dress that makes me look like a princess.

So, when Valerie didn't ask me to be her maid of honor, it took me for surprise. Valerie was always by my side when he left me, giving me her shoulder to cry and her spare room to stay when I needed it. Valerie was like a sister for me, someone I would say yes no matter what she asked me to do.

"I know you hate it" she sighed. "I won't torture you, I know you always joke about that but deep inside you are in pain. I won't put you on that position ever again. But I want you to be there on my wedding"

How could I say no? She's my best friend and actually the first person that took that tag of the maid of honor off of me.

"I want you to be happy, Juliette" she sighed.

"You know I can't " I sighed looking at my hands. "He hurt me and there's no way I can get out of that whole"

"You can, you know you can and you will" she said sure if herself, like making a promise. "I heard Pierre will invite some of his friends, I bet you'll find someone out there"

Pierre Gasly, Valerie's boyfriend for many years and nod her fiance. He's a known racing driver for some years now, being famous and all it comes with that. The wedding will be an important event, media wants to know every small detail of it and share it to the world. Now it makes sense why Valerie didn't ask me to be the maid of honor.

But I was with her all the time, dreaming, looking at her trying all those white dresses and wishing it was me for once, trying the cakes with her on our sleepovers and wishing to have someone cutting the cake with me, looking at the pictures she sent me of the flowers and imagining myself holding them when walking to the aisle.

I wished, again, that I was the bride.

The wedding was coming, looking now at the calendar it was closer than I thought it was going to be, making me search for a dress desperately, not wanting to use of of those dresses I used as a maid of honor.

"Wear something simple" Valerie said sitting on my bed. "Maybe one of those satin dresses you like"

"But that's too simple" I frowned. "It's your wedding, Val"

"I don't care, Juliette" she said smiling, shaking her head. "Plus, you look amazing on those dresses. The red one you wore on that charity gala last month was amazing, you could wear it on the rehearsal dinner"

"But what about the actual wedding!"

Finding a dress was harder than I thought. As the maid of honor I had to wear the dress the bride wanted, but now I could choose whatever I wanted to wear.

"Hey, hey, relax. Just... Relax, okay? Just wear something you feel comfortable with" she said trying to calm me.

So yeah, I did what she asked. I bought a dress on a random shop, something I could wear with the most comfortable heels I had on the wardrobe, and put everything I needed on a suitcase.

Valerie and Pierre were going to do their wedding on a nice villa, with vineyards and all the luxury you can imagine when both of them have lots of money, and since his family is religious they will do the wedding on the cozy church of the village with a small group of close friends and family.

The dinner rehearsal will be there on the villa, making sure that the next day everything will be ready and will work smoothly.

The red dress was hanging on the door of the closet, brighter than ever. I used to like red, he made me love it. It was his dream since he was a child, watching the red cars drive under his balcony around the streets of Monaco, and imagining that once he was older he would drive one of those.

"I'll be your Michael and you'll be my Corinna!" he used to say while we sat next to each other on the floor as kids, watching the TV and how Michael Schumacher won those races with his red Ferrari.

Using red after him felt like a punishment, a self torture. How can I be so stupid? So weak to not move on and we drowned on self pity?

I took a deep breath, taking off the silk robe and getting dressed while looking at myself on the mirror.

"Come on, why can't you be with someone?" I said to the reflection of myself. "You are freaking Juliette Morelli, a well known singer! You fucked with freaking Shawn Mendes and the Sebastian Stan flirted with you! You can do better than him"

At this point I was too desperate to forget him. I needed to stop thinking about him, it happened nearly ten years ago. How can I be so stupid and still not move out?

But still... It feels like if that happened yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Juliette" he said suddenly after he sat on the couch of the livingroom. "This isn't working anymore, I need to focus on my job and you are distracting me. It was funny while it lasted. I wish your career goes good as well"

I can do better than him, a stupid driver.

When I walked out of the room, with the purse hanging on my shoulder, the hair down and the red dress hugging my body, I felt confident. I knew I can get over him.

"Wow, Juliette!" Valerie gasped when she saw me walk inside the big room with some of the important guests. "I told you that dress looked amazing on you. Red has always been your color"

"You are right" I smile, somehow sure of myself, believing my own words. "It looks better on me"

🏎️

The moment Pierre asked me to be his best man I didn't waste any second to say yes. Even if I knew that he wanted another person to be his best man, someone that is not longer with us, I said yes immediately.

"I know what you are thinking" Pierre sighed patting my back. "He'll be with me there, but I need my best friend right now and I need it that day too. Tonio would be so glad that you'll be there for me"

"I know, but..." I sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'll go, I promise you I'll be there. But right now I just realized that it's only you and I that's left from that group of innocent kids that only wanted to drive and have fun"

"Come on dude, don't talk like if Esteban is dead!" Pierre laughed. "We have arguments, we're no longer friends... but he was on the pictures too and he's still in this world"

"You idiot" I laughed rolling my eyes.

My best friend is going to get married. He's still with the girl he met when he finished high school and now they will spend the rest of their lives together, form a family.

I promised that to someone long time ago. I promised that I would be there for her and that I'll let her be there for me.

"You know, Valerie asked her to sing" Pierre sighed iling weakly at me.

"Huh? Who?" I frown, being taken out of my thoughts.

"You know who" he sighed.

"Oh... That's cool" I nodded. "Cool, cool, cool, cool... Yeah, all cool"

"When was the last time you saw her?" he sighed closing his eyes.

"You know the answer of that" I said looking down at my lap.

The last time I saw her I tried to not look at her. I walked inside her apartment and stayed there for less than five minutes, hearing her heart break and walking out of it before she talked. I had to be heartless, leave for her and my own good.

"You are so coward, dude" he sighed shaking his head in disapproval.

"I did what I had to do" I frowned looking at him. "Plus, her own career was starting to grow and I couldn't be distracted because of her"

I saw Pierre shaking his head disappointed, patting my back and walking away. I already know what he's thinking, that I shouldn't let her go.

I still remember how I felt when I walked out of her apartment, how the tears were blurrying my eyes and I had to take a deep breath and wait an hour to start driving to my own apartment. I still remember how I felt when I heard the song that made her fame grow, those three letters of the title laughing at me knowing damn well that she wrote that song pouring all her heard on it.

The next months of preparations of Pierre's wedding were intense. The season was still going on, since he planned getting married on our summer break in August, so we had to plan everything on the time we had free, making it easy for us since we spent most of the time together.

It was only the week before his wedding when her name came to my mind.

Juliette Morelli. Valerie's best friend. And my ex.

Pierre told me she was going to sing on their first dance, that she was going to be at the dinner rehearsal and that she was going to stay in the villa the whole weekend.

"You just have to not go on her way" I said talking to myself in the mirror on my own room of the villa. "Try to ignore her. Maybe after all this years she won't recognize me, right? Yeah, yeah, she won't recognize me"

I have to focus on the rehearsal. I need to work along side with Valerie's sister to coordinate everything and make sure that the flower girl is comfortable and I have to make sure that I don't lose the rings. Easy peasy.

But that focus slipped away from my mind the moment I walked inside the big room, with a small group of guests, and I saw a red dress.

But what unfocused me wasn't the dress. Was who was wearing it.

"Oh, I finally found you" Pierre said and looked at me, then who I was looking at. "And you found her"

"Does she know I'm here?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of her.

She's so much more beautiful than before. More mature. Oh God, how much I missed her laugh, how she played with her hair when she was feeling comfortable and relaxed.

"Earth to Charles" Pierre said nervous. "Come on dude, this is about to start and you are just staring to your ex. That's creepy, by the way"

"Shut up, mate!" I exclaimed, shutting him up covering his mouth with my hand. "Don't you dare to tell her I'm here. I'll make sure that she never sees me and in that way none of us will know about the other this whole weekend. Okay?"

Pierre nodded and then I let him go, looking at him carefully.

Juliette can't know that I'm here, I'm not ready to talk with her. After all those years I'm not ready to face her and even hear her voice, even if all this time I have heard her songs.

"Come on, everything is going to start" Valerie's sister came towards me, taking me out of my thoughts.

I nodded and took a deep breath, standing in my position and looking at the door, ignoring the need of searching that red dress between the people that was there. I can't look at her, I really can't.

But then I heard it. A gasp. And not of Pierre looking how Valerie walked towards him practicing how she will do it tomorrow, not the parents of the flower girl walking in with her little basket and doing like if she threw petals.

No. The person that gasped was the person I wanted to avoid. The one I hurt the most in this room. The one that right now is standing and walking out of the room, the red dress walking out of the room.

"Good job trying to avoid her, Leclerc" Pierre whispered looking back at me. "Another one of your plans working perfectly bad"

[9w1ft]

about that anon who said the only female friend Taylor was sexualised with was Karlie - honestly that part of the 1989 prologue where she says she thought people wouldn't sensationalise and sexualise her female friendships never looked to me like she meant that in a shipping way?? maybe i'm being delusional but i always thought she expressed her annoyance with the fact that she and her friends were talked about inappropriately and judged for their appearance and compared to each other who is more attractive etc etc

no yes so i think that’s what it was referring to on the surface level. the squad. it’s that one story beat she has referred to interviews over the years about how she didn’t get to have a lot of friends growing up because she was bullied or because she grew up on the road and how with 1989 she was enjoying the girlhood and girl friend experience that she never had. like, mid 2010’s taylor and her model friends were a hot button topic of public conversation and the media that drives it: all these articles about how taylor’s new friends are too hot, too skinny, too rich, not diverse, she’s not country anymore, it’s cliquey, etc.

but because this is the taylor swift fan community everybody is trained to look beyond this first layer and see extra meaning. and in the case of gaylor (umbrella term) stuff, and kaylor stuff, when you’re a hammer everything looks like a nail. swifties attack gaylors, gaylors attack kaylors, etc, you know the drill

at the same time, when you go one layer deeper, i don’t think people can fully say taylor had no idea what she was implying or how it would be received by some people. so one begins to wonder if it’s intentional in some way.

so a few layers down the discourse becomes distilled into something more meta: “why does taylor throw us under the bus again and again” which is a sort of fandom meta truth. but, i often think the intentions are a few layers up from this, where we are not the focus, and that it’s up to us to see how the benefits for her outweigh our collective peace. like when she does something that leads to fandom drama, she’s also often pushing the entire conversation around her work or persona forward in some aspects that are strategic or meaningful. often times that become more clear as time goes on.

for me, i think that because of this, it’s up to us as a group to treat one another and ourselves the best that we can. to be as self sufficient as we can. not because ‘she’s not looking out for us’ but because like, this isn’t about us first and foremost at the end of the day. and plus, there are many ways we can all stay healthy and upbeat on our own. and anyway, bringing up other ways to look at things, just as you did here anon, as a great way go about it. so thank you for pointing this out!

[aintmyjewelry]

hey! would you mind explaining the butterfly mural story? :)

oh yes absolutely!!

so, for some background, it was around mid-April 2019 and taylor had just begun teasing something. it had began with some cryptic posts, a countdown, and insta photo close ups of props with the caption "4.26" (April 26) so swifties were already in delulu mode.

well, all of a sudden on like April 16 (i don't remember when taylor's countdown/cryptic posts started so this might've been BEFORE the insta posts which would leave us even more clueless) I'm not sure who noticed it first, but someone found this butterfly mural that had randomly gone up in nashville

(photo)

now nashville is not a stranger to a mural but it was by Kelsey Montague who was known for her big murals of wings as part of her #WhatLiftsYou campaign. But people noticed this new one she put up had a lot of Taylor Swift references (specifically cats and 13 hearts.....) and the swifties were immediately suspicious!! fans were already flocking to it just out of the gate convinced it was connected to taylor swift

now as we got closer to this cryptic April 26 date i think swifties were hanging out around it or at least monitoring it because so many were so convinced, and on April 25, the artist SHOWS UP AT THE MURAL and begins PAINTING. the painted the word "ME!" in the middle of it in black.

the clowning had truly begun. people were pretty sure now ok i mean even just look at the crowd that was there before the artist began painting. there was no way this wasn't connected to taylor (despite the fact the only evidence we had was......a date, cats, and 13 hearts)

but here's the thing - we were sure it was connected to taylor but no one knew what was happening next

before I get there, though, there was some debate. some people were not convinced it was for taylor especially given this artist and her history of wing murals. also at the time the NFL draft was taking place in nashville so genuinely some people just thought it was related to that or were like "why would taylor cause this ruckus when the NFL draft is in the city"

but that didn't stop most people. I think even the news started broadcasting and the tagline was like "FANS LINE UP OUTSIDE MURAL, THINK TAYLOR SWIFT IS GONNA SHOW UP" like we were on the news maybe looking like fools. it wasn't the first time but wow

even i remember being like?? ok sure it's for her but who says she's gonna be there???

so we're just waiting, monitoring the situation, i think some were livestreaming. and then the bombshell drops. taylor swift posts a video of her in the car. on the way to the mural.

and then next thing we know. she's there. she's there talking with fans, taking photos. there's the words "ME!" on the mural. and taylor is congratulating on our FBI work lmao but also the kicker is - WE STILL DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THIS WAS ABOUT!!! WE HAD UNTIL THAT NIGHT. WE HAD TO WATCH THE NFL DRAFT TO FIND OUT ABOUT THE SINGLE "ME!"

anyways theres the butterfly mural story and how swifties are the greatest detectives even when we're not

[placeinthisworld]

ttpdta review part one 🤠

let me preface this by stating that i am a swiftie first and person second in this situation. i have grown up with taylor and feel as if shes my big sister- yes i can make fun of her but if i see anyone else do it i will get fiercely protective. i do understand her music is not only art but also her form of therapy. that being said, throughout these nonsense notes i am constantly mentioning that taylor should go to therapy. i am aware of what she has said about therapy (and why she doesn’t go) but i would beg to differ with her…especially after this album release lol.

taylor is an extraordinary storyteller and song writer. i believe this album is full of evidence of that, but it also has some faults that prevent from being as good as i felt like it could have been. overall the album feels rushed.

i also feel like it’s important to recognize the elephant in the room. i know we probably all expected this to be a joe breakup album, so the fact that it turned out to be a “fuck you matty healy” album shook us all a little bit. i know matty had a controversial history, im not gonna sit here and defend him. i don’t know much about him other than what is forced against my will. i do however know that he struggles with mental health issues/ substance abuse/ addiction. i’m not gonna comment much about his personal issues, i don’t feel like that’s right and taylor’s constant references to drugs throughout ttpd definitely rubs me the wrong way. i should also mention i grew up with an active addict and do view things from that perspective, so i feel slightly triggered by the topic and my feelings about that may just be personal but i do mention that in my notes when it’s relevant.

lastly, i am not a music production girlie idk shit lol. i only know i am a aaron dessner stan so any song with his name im already biased towards and i am aware, if u don’t like that idk what to tell u lol. i just know what i feel like is “good” or “bad” but music is subjective🫶🏻

1. Fortnight:

Hate the functional alcoholic part. Like the beat, the chorus is catchy. One thing i love about a taylor swift song is that theres always a story and its always visual. I like the metaphor of the “good neighbors” of like having this teasing/ longing feeling for someone that you could have had a life with. “Your wife waters flowers/ i want to kill her + my husbands cheating/ i want to kill him” feeling like you were robbed of her life, feeling “all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february” reminiscing about the short period of time where you were together and convinced it would last forever (only for it to end before it even started). I do not listen to much post malone but i enjoyed his verse!! So many florida references we get it everything bad happens in florida.

i have not seen the video yet oooopsies

2. Ttpd:

i thought this was the opening of Hey Stephen (the remix) or something at first. gotta say i absolutely love the way she sings “you left your typewriter at my apartment/ straight from the tortured poets department” i enjoyed the vibe of this song, and lyrics up until the “you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate (OKAY SOOOOOOO ME CODED NGL I LAUGHED at this point i could let this lyric slide- bit then she had to mention the charlie puth and golden retriever thing and ngl it almost ruins the song entirely for me. Tbh when i first listened to the leak i thought this was a fake AI song and that i was sending around a fake leak bc these lyrics started to get a little weird to me. ‘Sometimes i wonder if youre gonna screw this up with me/ but you told lucy you’d kill yourself if i ever leave” …………girl i am begging you to see a therapist (side note did anyone else have a friend in hs whos bf would say that shit a lot?? I remember straight up fighting with a friend who refused to break up w her bf bc he would threaten to end his own life is she did and he was like 16? If an adult is saying that same shit i would be Very concerned not gossiping about it???) “i chose this cyclone with you” my first reaction was: ride the cyclone the musical? Overall i liked the first half but you lost me at charlie puth (hes the one with eyebrow right? I think i get him and miles teller mixed up) (i dont know who either of these men are)

3. My boy only breaks his favorite things:

Okay tbh i thought this was gonna be one of my least favorites, but the total opposite happened. I think this is one of my top 5 favorites on this album. I do think that there is a difference between a poem and a song and that they are not always interchangeable. I feel like if this was edited into a poem it would be KILLER. The visuals, the the story, the vocabulary, the sadness in it. “Im queen of sandcastles he destroys/ There was danger in the heat of my touch/ once i fix me/ hes gonna miss me/ i felt more when we played pretend then with all the kens / cause he took me out of my box” i feel like ever since folklore, taylors been trying to push these big fancy words and sometimes it feels awkward and forced, but this is one of the rare songs that doesn't suffer from that.

4. Down bad:

meh. Chorus is catchy. I dont love the narrative “fuck it if i cant have him/ i might just it would make no difference” but i also have never once experienced that over a person before lmao……….taylor go to therapy. Nothing really stands out about this to me otherwise. No offense, but it sounds like a generic jack antonoff song lol. Like maybe if another artist released this, i would enjoy it more but idk i wouldnt expect it from taylor i guess. Just kinda feels boring to me sorry if u enjoy it <3

5. So long, london:

oh man were done with british men now for real for real. “ two graves one gun. I'll find someone” its over for joe and matty (but thats fine if all she has to say about joe is what i think she said on this album i am happy i think We Get It…) Aaron dessner i love u (remember when he reposted me on his ig ahh).”i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/ pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” + “I stopped trying to make him laugh/ stopped trying to drill the safe/ i didnt opt in to be our odd man out/ im pissed off you let me give you all of that youth for free” oof i FELT that one a LITTLE too hard. I think this is both a song about matty and joe- i think she had a life and an attachment to london just in general through both relationships, “im just mad as hell because i loved this place” and so reflecting back on how both are over and how all those plans with either are done. “You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days” OKAY kinda hate this phrase bc it feels like shes placing blame on whomever’s mental health/ depression, like as if they made the conscious decision to sacrifice the relationship solely. This very much feels like “how much sadness did you think i could take before i got bored???” overall top favorite songs bc it doesnt have too many cringey or odd lyrics and the production is 10/10 thank u aaron dessner ilysm king

6. But daddy i love him:

tbh when i got the leak this was the first song i listened to bc i thought it was gonna be the worst one and i wanted to get it over with (i was RIGHT until she dropped that second half……..) and i DIDNT have the lyrics obviously so i couldnt for the life of me figure out if she really said “im having his baby…..NO IM NOT!” until the VERY end of the song and bro…….the cringe. The cringe. The cringe. This is also when i started to question if this was real or if i was passing out a fake leak, lol. I dont understand how she could be saying this shit about matty. And like we all know it lol. “Sometimes growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all” …….but like does it??? I feel like thats kinda an oxymoron or something like i understand what shes trying to say and MOST of the time her metaphors and comparisons make sense to me but like this one doesnt. Growing up precocious means to grow up more advanced in maturity, how would that also mean not growing up at all? Is it just me getting stoned and overthinking things? “Ill tell you something about my good name/ its mine alone to disgrace” true that bestie ur doin a great job by being so politically quiet over the past couple of yeats after making a whole asss documentary about wanting to be on the right side of history. But I digress i am just one of those bitches performing soliloquies you'll never see. Overall this song is very weird and cringey imo and i wish it stayed in whatever vault it was sitting in lol.

7.Fresh out of the slammer: “In the shade of how he was feeling” -_- dont like this narrative already. I could honestly go on a rant about why i dont like this song but im going to spare for the sake of my sanity in this review of thirty one fucking songs but its along these lines “to the one who says im the girl of his american dreams” oh brother. otherwise i dont care for many of the lyrics, the chorus/ melody/vibe is mid i guess. It sounds like another jack song (i was right)

8. Florida!!!: “all my friends smell like weed or little babies” okay i know what she was trying to say but im SORRY you cant tell me she couldnt think of ANY other way to say her friends are either parents partiers lmao. Deserves jail for that but luckily the vibe and the chorus of the song are really catchy and florence’s voice is beautiful in it. “Well me and my ghost we had a hell of a time/ yes im haunted but im feeling just fine” CHILLS i loved it. I didnt think i would like this song but (maybe as much as i like no body, no crime which is meh) but no i lowkey love this song and think its really fun. Once again the drug references start to get heavy here in the album and like i mentioned i do get slightly triggered by drug mentions.

9. Guilty as sin?:

okay taylor we get it you masterbate. Another strong jack song and it’s pretty similar to others on the album so nothing besides the sexual lyrics stand out.

10. Whos afraid of little old me?:

“if you wanted me dead you should have just said/ nothing makes me feel more alive” ooooooooooh i love that. I feel like a live or an acoustic version of this song would give me CHILLS. “Is it a wonder i broke / lets hear one more joke/ then we can all laugh until i cry” honestly so relatable, “i was tame, i was gentle til the circus life made me mean” oh :( that hurt bc it just reminds me of the vibe shift during midnights era/ eras tour where it *feels* like she started to pull back from being taylor swift and started to become Taylor Swift (™) and the way her fans/ media has treated her made her mean or cold or something and that just makes me feel sad. “Whos afraid of little old me? You caged me and then you called me crazy! I am what i am cause you trained me! SO. WHOS. AFRAID. OF ME? Again the narcotics line kinda makes me feel icky but thats bc i have that thing about drugs and just dont LOVE all the references to them. Like i know its not that serious but theres a reason why i dont seek out artists that typically talk or write about that stuff ya know so its weird. Overall i think the production is one of the most unique ones on this part of the album.

11. I can fix him (no really i can):

i hate it all around i think. I hate the narrative of “i can fix him!! I can handle a dangerous man!!! No really i can!!!” there is a reason why this song is barely 3 mins long lol it should have been cut but i think taylor wanted to Be Edgy. i dont care for the productions or the lyrics, its very forgetful imo.

12. Loml:

okay i really thought this was gonna be a joe song (rip) so i was thinking it was gonna be really deep and sad and like it IS but with the context of it being the pt 2 fling with matty it doesnt seem like it now. Anyone who thinks this is not about matty please look at the lyrics and be so serious “whos gonna stop us from waltzing back into reklndled flames/ if we know the steps anyway” I think matty just said too much shit to taylor during their fling and taylor WAS truly convinced this her invisible string and he promised her a lot that he couldnt upkeep and ghosted her and she took it SUPER hard, i mean two breakups in one year is a lot (me, whos never been through a single breakup once). I just dont understand how she feels like matty is the greatest loss of her life. One of my favorite tracks on the album, “our field of dreams engulfed in fire/ your arsons match your somber eyes” a LOT of these lyrics are actually really good imo. I think im the only one that didnt find the “mr. steal your girl and make her cry” line idk i thought it was actually kinda neat, the phrasing of it, kinda contradicts the title “love of my life” because he was never that serious or respectful of her and only use her from the beginning. This is another song that i think would make KILLER poem over song. Overall i think the piano is haunting and a live version of this will make me die, thank u again aaron dessner 10/10

13. I can do it with a broken heart:

ngl i thought this was the opening to mastermind for a hot second- also gave me a scare on whether or not this was a fake leak lol. Catchy ass chorus but very YOYOK. “Breaking down i hit the floor/ All the pieces of me shattered/ as the crowd was shouting “more!” ooffffffff seeeeee that is exactly WHAT i was afraid she was feeling durning the eras tour after the joe breakup/ matty situation and all these stupid twitter and tik tok swiffers were out here overanalyzing EVERYTHING and demanding rep tv like every other day. “Im so depressed i act like its my birthday” …….okay taylor. Like a lot of people have said, i think she interchanges “depressed” for “sad” a lot and the two are not the same. I think taylor wrote this song (but specifically the “i cry a lot time but i am so productive” and was like “yup this part is gonna go viral on tik tok,” initially i wrote “feels like taylor saw that depression barbie commercial in barbie 2023 and wrote a song based on that” lol which i still agree with. Overall the production of this screams midnights reject lol, very jack antonoff. Over time this song has grown on me a lot. Originally i didnt care for it but now its kind of a bop but i think its bc its so similar to YOYOK. “Try and come for my job” @taylorswift deadass you couldn’t think of anything else to say instead. cmon. I was mostly on board until that very last part, just seemed very cheesy lol like its not a big deal but i thought it delivered well without it.

14. The smallest man who ever lived:

(aaron thank u for saving me and this entire album) “they just ghosted you/ now you know what it feels like” OUCH. “i dont even want you back i just want you to know/ if rusting my sparkling was the goal/ and i dont miss what we had but can someone give/ a message to the smallest man who ever lived” oh this was somber af. I am obsessed with the phrasing of the chorus. I also LOVE taylors deeper voice its def giving me the same feelings MTR gave me from folklore, that made me CRY and this was very similar. This is another classic taylor song that i could EASILY write like a ten page essay about if someone put a gun to my head. I know that its about a *romantic* relationship, but it feels general enough to be able to relate to anyone who is close to someone with an addiction or struggles with substances. A lot of addicts dont understand the impact of their addiction or their behaviors that they display while struggling. To meeeeee, this feels very much like “you were self centered and betrayed my trust, was any of this true? Real? Am i paranoid or is this that deep?” “it wasnt sexy once it wasnt forbidden” has me thinking lots of things. I think that describes taylors “type”if that makes sense? Like i said i would need to literally break this song down line by line like its ridiculous i have too many thoughts about this song i have listened to it on repeat six times by the time im typing this. “In public showed me off/ then sank in stoned oblivion” FUCK. “you treat her like an also-ran” honestly i have never heard of that phrase/word thank u dr. swift. “Were you sent by someone who wanted me DEAD/ did you sleep with a GUN underneath OUR BED/ were you writing a BOOK?/ were you a sleeper cell SPY? IN 5O YEARS WILL THIS BE ALL DECLASSIFIED?/ AND YOU’LL CONFESS WHY YOU DID IT!/ AND ILL SAY GOOD RIDDANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” tears were formed besties. Also love the gracie abrams reference. “And you deserve prison but you wont get time” i feel like is very metaphorical like you DESERVE to be punished for what you did to me but you won’t admit to the guilt, you wont admit your wrongdoings, you wont admit that i would have done anything for you and you have no problem replacing me. “You said normal girls were boring/ but you were gone by the morning” first of all red flag girlie, nonetheless heartbreaking. “And in plain sight you hid/ but you are what you did” i say this with all the love in my heart, someone take taylor swift to a really good really private therapist. I could say more but i think i need to move on because i am now on my eighth cyle of listening to this song.

15. The alchemy:

already kinda hate it. “What if i told you im back/ the hospital was a drag/ worst sleep i ever had” do you think taylor swift has ever been admitted to a real hospital in this context. Feels very out of place and like i said earlier i dont love the psych ward visuals/ references she keeps inserting in this album. “He jokes its heroin but this time with an e” thanks! I fucking hate that line so much. Feels very icky, not funny. I get what shes going for but it falls so flat for me. The football references (yall know my opinion on meathead!!!!!!!! I will not engage!!!) are fucking dumb. Production is kinda lame and uninterested. Will only listen to this song if by force and will not repeat it ive head enough lets move on.

i have Lots Of Thoughts. i don’t think anyone cares about what i have to say though so i don’t think i’ll bother posting the rest lol but i did do a lot of work so ill post just a bit to make myself feel better.

[riveatstoes]

Sanders Sides as Taylor Swift Songs

Because I want to merge my hyperfixation (SaSi) and my special interest (TS)

But first some clarifications:

Most of these are vibe-based, especially when it comes to Logan because I genuinely think that he is one of, if not THE, hardest characters to get right

If you have different opinions that’s fine, I like hearing what other people have to say! (as long as you remain respectful)

Yes 99% of Remus’s are ironic, get off my back abt it did you seriously expect anything else??? Yeah that’s what I thought

There is at least one album where I chose the same song for two characters but um. Mind your business

Yes I’m counting If This Was A Movie as a Fearless song. I’m going by what album’s cover it has on it tbh

For reference my favorite is Roman and I think that may be obvious. Idk

Taylor Swift (Debut)

Logan: The Outside

Roman: Stay Beautiful

Patton: Tied Together With A Smile

Virgil: A Place in This World

Janus: The Outside

Remus: Picture to Burn (Homophobic Version)

Fearless (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Tell Me Why

Roman: Breathe (ft. Colbie Caillat)

Patton: If This Was A Movie

Virgil: You All Over Me (ft. Marren Morris)

Janus: Don’t You

Remus: Thug Story (ft. T-Pain)

Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Castles Crumbling (ft. Hayley Williams)

Roman: Back To December

Patton: Never Grow Up

Virgil: Haunted

Janus: Better Than Revenge / Innocent

Remus: BTR (Slut-Shaming Version)

Red (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Nothing New (ft. Phoebe Bridgers)

Roman: Red

Patton: Sad Beautiful Tragic

Virgil: I Almost Do

Janus: I Bet You Think About Me (ft. Chris Stapleton)

Remus: I Knew You Were Trouble (Screaming Goat Version)

1989 (Taylor’s Version)

Logan: Bad Blood (ft. Kendrick Lamar)

Roman: Wildest Dreams

Patton: Clean

Virgil: Out Of The Woods

Janus: Now That We Don’t Talk

Remus: Shake It Off

reputation

Logan: Look What You Made Me Do

Roman: Gorgeous

Patton: New Year’s Day

Virgil: Getaway Car

Janus: Don’t Blame Me

Remus: I Did Something Bad (Ratatatata)

Lover

Logan: I Forgot That You Existed

Roman: You Need To Calm Down / Afterglow

Patton: Cornelia Street

Virgil: The Archer

Janus: Death By A Thousand Cuts

Remus: ME! (ft. Brendon Urie of Panic! At The Disco)

folklore

Logan: this is me trying

Roman: mirrorball

Patton: cardigan

Virgil: peace

Janus: the lakes

Remus: exile (ft. bon iver)

evermore

Logan: closure

Roman: tolerate it

Patton: evermore (ft. bon iver)

Virgil: it’s time to go

Janus: cowboy like me

Remus: no body, no crime (ft. HAIM)

Midnights

Logan: Glitch

Roman: Maroon / Bejeweled

Patton: You’re On Your Own, Kid / Dear Reader

Virgil: Midnight Rain

Janus: Anti-Hero

Remus: Vigilante Shit (Live At The Eras Tour)

The Tortured Poets Department

Logan: I Look In People’s Windows

Roman: But Daddy I Love Him / Clara Bow

Patton: So Long, London / loml

Virgil: Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Janus: The Prophecy

Remus: Guilty As Sin? (But specifically that one video of Post Malone dancing to it)

[lowkeyrobin]

okay i’ve been requesting this idea with other fandoms i’m in for a while and it’s not being done so i don’t know if they don’t want to write or or can’t figure out how to write it BUT…

you belong with me by t swift ♡ with our beloved freddie badlinu ♡

basically like reader got introduced to freddie by tommy and fell head over heels (definitely not me projecting /hj) but he just thinks of reader as a friend and eventually starts dating someone else yada yada i love this song

you don’t have to write it but i just love this idea (and song ♡)

-🦕 anon

OKG HI 🦕 ANON YES KF COURSE!! RJJSNSNSNS YESYESYES KM SO EXCITED FOR THIS, there's a lot of ts lyric references here bc I used the premise of ybwm but the feelings of her other songs iykwim; hopefully I did you justice with this and thank you SO MUCH for requesting Freddie bc I've been wanting to write for him again and I couldn't think of any good ideas LMFAO

BADLINU ; you belong with me

summary ; you're head over heels for Freddie, but he doesn't seem to feel the same way

warnings ; language

track ; you belong with me ; taylor swift

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

The day you'd met Freddie through Tommy five years ago, you instantly fell head over heels. You didn't know exactly why, but there was no hiding your feelings anymore, it was so hopelessly obvious, even to Tommy.

The blonde, your best friend, tried to set you guys up here and there, alas, with no luck.

At first, you were convinced you were getting that usual feeling where you kind of fixate on your friend until it disappeared, until it never really did. You talked with him constantly, learned more about him, and learned about the music he liked and his hobbies.

He had an infectious smile that could light up the whole town and a giggle to make you fall to your knees as you felt something in your stomach become fuzzy with a tossing and turning motion. You wonder what it must be like to grow up that beautiful, with his hair falling into place like dominoes, his eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting you want to jump in.

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, like he was a walking masterpiece. Not many people see him like how you do, his little imperfections and beauties.

You couldn't stop him putting roots in your little dreamland, your house of stone and his ivy grows, covering you in himself. You thought of him at every waking moment, catching yourself doing it frequently when you didn't mean too. If you saw or heard something that reminded you of him, it'd send a wave of dopamine through your brain, infecting you with the disease of happiness with a smile.

You remember him taking a bus to your house in the middle of the night, needing your comfort since you were still awake at that hour, and also the only person he felt safe talking to about what he was upset about it. You were the person to make him laugh when he was about to cry, the one to understand him on deeper levels than most, the one to know his story and his dreams.

Your viewers and fans would often ship you two, drawing fanart, writing fanfiction, and spamming y/s/n in chat whenever you had one of those moments. You streamed together whenever you could, and made YouTube videos frequently featuring each other.

You sat on your balcony at night together sometimes, star gazing.

He says "Look up"

Your shoulders brushed. No proof, one touch, but you felt enough. Enough for you, at least.

He keeps a picture of you two in his office at home downtown. It hangs on the wall with many other pictures of him with his friends. You thought you felt it in the silence and in the way home, with the lights out watching movies. But you seemed to be wrong.

Why couldn't he see that you were right there? Had the thought ever crossed his mind that maybe you loved him so much that maybe he belonged with you? Why couldn't he see that you were the one to understand him, who'd been there all along?

He found a girl he liked, and started officially dating her a month or two ago. After that, you'd never lost hope that maybe he'd see you, but within all the losing more and more hope, Tommy was there for you. He didn't exactly know how to comfort you, but reassured you that it was normal to feel this way, and that you'd move on with time.

You seemed to be the only person to not find love, you felt like you were cursed to be alone forever and watch the one person you truly loved go and love someone else. You couldn't move on, everything reminded you of him, every forest themed candle at the market, every pebble on the seaside, every star in the sky.

You knew he was happy at least, but you just wished that something inside of him would see that you were right there.

Over time, you distanced yourself, though wanting to remain friends with him. You just couldn't seem to see him without his girlfriend, and it hurt. Everytime you remembered that there was no point in trying, it broke your heart even more. It became so bad to the point that it was unhealthy, leading you to send him a text before leaving for a little trip to America.

It read 'Stay beautiful'.

You sent it just before getting on the plane, ridding you of any worry of receiving a message during the long flights. You'd only told Tommy and Tubbo that you were leaving, considering you streamed with them frequently and would probably be the first to notice you disappearing.

You decided a little trip to Folley Beach, South Carolina would be your therapy. Four thousand dollars for a week stay in a solid three star condo wasn't going to work, though. You had some connections, however, getting you a cheaper condo considering it was only you, and you'd be spending a month or two. Six thousand was much better than the probably forty thousand you'd have to pay for that, thank God. Yeah, maybe using your save-up-money wasn't the best idea, but you needed it at the moment.

Your mental health had been declining for a while, and you felt stupid for being so dramatic about the situation with Freddie. But, a trip to the beach and the opportunity to experience things you never had and make some content out of it wasn't something you'd pass up on.

From trying bubble tea to the fresh, clean, oceanside air, it was like a daydream. You took so many photos and videos, sending them to some friends and saving them for a video.

Trying all the food was amazing, which you probably gained a solid ten pounds from. The long walks along the island, down the beach, and down the graffiti road to the other side of the beach were sweltering hot but therapeutic to you.

Once you returned to the UK, opening your front door, you're surprised to see Tommy, Freddie, Tubbo, and Becky in your house, cleaning up for you. Tommy had a spare key to your place, which is probably how you got in. You were confused, but got a little uncomfortable seeing Freddie, especially without his girlfriend on a Sunday afternoon. You'd been gone for two months with nearly no contact, maybe something changed.

You still had feelings for the red-haired boy, but you lost hope on him ever seeing how he felt about you during your trip. You'd gotten over it and you were on your path to just moving on.

"Hi" Tommy smiles, giving you a wave as he stands up, "Sorry, uh, we just came to clean for you since you've been gone for like, ever-"

"It's fine" You reply, "I mean, I could've just cleaned it myself, guys."

"Well, we came over for something else, but we thought you were coming back next Sunday, not this Sunday" Becky explains, looking to the boys for a nod or agreement, or an excuse since she already knew what your next question would be.

"Came for what?" You ask, setting your bags down on the floor, deciding they could wait.

"Uh-" The blonde begins before the shorter brunette speaks for him.

"We were gonna throw you a welcome home party"

"Oh"

Silence condemns you for a moment before you speak again.

"Well, uh, thanks. But, I'm gonna unpack" You pick up your belongings, taking them back to your bedroom, leaving them with a little wave.

Christ, that was so awkward. What's wrong with you? Since when had you gone cold to your friends?

The second you sat down, you felt the wave of regret. Freddie was the first to come in and ask if you were okay, though.

"Hey, are you okay? You're either tired and jetlagged or upset to, uh, probably see me, " He mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "And before you say anything, I was a dick for not seeing how you felt about me, and I was completely blind, and I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do at the moment, but I wanted to genuinely apologize, because I made you feel like you had to leave home because you were so uncomfortable because of me"

"Freddie..." You sigh, setting your electronics from your bag down on your bed, "It's fine. I didn't leave because of you, I left because I just needed a break from here, nothing is your fault. I'm on my path to moving on, so don't make it more awkward than it already is" You chuckle, sitting on the bed across from him as he stands in the doorway. "I swear, if you apologize one more time I will kick your ass"

Freddie smiles and nods, "Thank you. Are you sure this isn't going to ruin anything between us..? I don't wanna lose you as a friend"

"That's what I was asking you!" You giggle, "But yeah, unless you fuck up"

His eyes slightly widen, playing into the bit, "I won't, your majesty."

"Good"

[slytherin-girly]

You belong with Me/ A Draco Malfoy x reader one-shot

House: u choose

A/n: reference to Taylor Swifts, "You belong with me" song

You can send me requests that have to do with a song if you didn't know :)

=================

{3rd person pov}

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

She's going off about something that you said

'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

Y/n was finishing up a drawing somewhere where she was away from people when she heard to people arguing.

"Draco! How could you say that to her!" Astoria hissed at her boyfriend Draco.

"Does it matter that much to you! Merlin" Draco groaned.

"Yes! I am your girlfriend last time I recalled!" She hissed again.

"Take a joke Astoria" Draco said walking away.

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night

I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like

And she'll never know your story like I do

Draco and Y/n have been best friends since babies. They were raised together. But then Astoria came in the picture. Always complaining that her life is so hard, and that Draco's life is easy. She'll never know Draco's story like Y/n does. That's for sure.

Y/n was in her room listening to her type of music the complete opposite of whatever dear Astoria Greengrass had liked.

But she wears short skirts

I wear T-shirts

She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

Y/n was once again walking to class and there was Astoria, wearing her short short skirts. Y/n sighed looking down. All she was wearing was a baggy-ish t-shirt and some black leggings with her Y/h/c robes.

Y/n had always secretly wished that she was Astoria. She had always liked Draco until she came into the picture. She just wished that Draco would at least have taken some interest in her.

Astoria took Draco for granted that's a given. She treated him more like a house-elf instead of her boyfriend.

Y/n however always thought that if he was her boyfriend he wouldn't be treated like a house-elf. Never.

If you could see that I'm the one

Who understands you

Been here all along

So, why can't you see?

You belong with me

You belong with me

Astoria went back to her dorm and so did Y/n. She went to her bathroom and locked the door.

All she needed right now was a hot bath.

She sat there thinking. Why was he with her in the first place? She's a bloody git. Doesn't even understand him. Heck no one does, except me. Not even his own father for heavens sake.

Walk in the streets with you in your worn-out jeans

I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself

Hey, isn't this easy?

Y/n had decided to go up to the astronomy tower and maybe try and catch some peace there.

She saw Draco was already there sitting, admiring the moon and stars.

"Hey Draco." I said sitting down beside him.

"Oh hey Y/n, didnt think you'd be up here"

"I thought the same thing"

Soon they were telling jokes to each other and laughing at others antics in class.

And you've got a smile

That can light up this whole town

I haven't seen it in a while

Since she brought you down

You say you're fine, I know you better than that

Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

It was one of the first times in ages that Y/n had seen Draco smile. His smile was adorable. Y/n found herself wishing to be the person to make him smile every day. That smile could light up Y/n's whole day.

Their laughter died down, and Y/n asked a question. "Sooo how are things with you and Astoria?"

"Oh- erm- fine" He coughed afterward.

Y/n always thought what he would be doing with a terrorizing git. Heck she thought Pansy Parkinson was better, and Pansy is a nightmare.

She wears high heels

I wear sneakers

She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

There she was again wearing her new heels. Y/n had felt like trash compared to her. Y/n just had on a pair of normal sneakers that costed no more than 30 dollars in the muggle world.

If you could see that I'm the one

Who understands you

Been here all along

So, why can't you see?

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

{Flashback}

It had been raining one night and Y/n had decided to go to Draco's.

When she got there she through little rocks and pebbles at his window.

Once he saw Y/n, he quickly came downstairs and let her in.

"What are you doing here Y/n!" Draco hissed, "c'mon let's get you dried up, dont want you to get sick now do we"

{End of flashback}

Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I'm the one who makes you laugh

When you know you're 'bout to cry

And I know your favorite songs

And you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong

Think I know it's with me

Can't you see that I'm the one

Who understands you?

Been here all along

So, why can't you see?

You belong with me

It had been official. Draco and Astoria had broken up only about a month ago. Y/n gave him his time. But she was secretly overjoyed. He had broken it off with her one night in common room saying that he was in love with someone else.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me?

You belong with me

Draco and Y/n were up at the astronomy tower once again.

"Y/n, you know why I broke it off with Astoria right?"

She hummed I response.

"Well- you see- that person I was, no am in love with is well- uhm- you Y/n." He stammered out.

"Really?" Y/n questioned.

"Really Y/n. You belong with me." Draco said.

"Forever and always?" Said Y/n.

"Forever and always."

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Somewhere we can be alone

AN: They really got my man out here being an ethereal thot. I don't pretend to be well-versed in Greek mythology, but I tried lol. Strongly considering making this into a series. Let me know if you'd be interested, I have some ideas in mind. Honestly, I didn't even expect to work on this until much later (because I have 600 other works in the drafts), but inspiration struck. Also, yes, I got the title from Love Story by Taylor Swift.

Note: a satyr is the male counter part of a nymph. A dryad is the specific name used to refer to a nature nymph. There's no specific name given to water satyrs, which is why I referred to Soobin just as a water satyr.

Synopsis: As soon as your eyes met those of the blonde spirit, you should've known you were a goner.

Heads up: Choi Soobin x Fem! Reader, Greek mythology AU, Water Satyr! Soobin, Dryad! Reader, star-crossed lovers AU, this is mostly fluff and world building, honestly.

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When your eyes meet with those of the blonde man, you feel as though Kronos himself had stopped time.

You'd never seen him before.

Was he a new satyr? Because surely you'd never forget someone so beautiful if you'd seen him before.

"Is everything okay?" One of your friends asks when they notice you'd halted in your footsteps.

"Who's that?" You ask the group, gesturing towards the blonde man who still had his eyes on you as well.

"Oh, that's Soobin. He's new. I heard the other dryads talking about there being a new satyr in the area. Too bad he's a water satyr," one of your other friends responds.

Of course.

Just your luck.

You just had to become infatuated with a water satyr.

While unions between nature and water spirits weren't exactly immoral, they were heavily frowned upon by not only both groups but even a few of the gods and goddesses as well.

It takes everything in you to finally look away from his warm eyes and continue on your stroll with your friends. It's not as though there was a chance for you two anyways.

The universe is funny, you think, when you bump into that same blonde satyr once more. Soobin. That's his name.

"Hello," he says to you tentatively, and you don't remember the last time you felt this nervous.

"Hi," you respond shyly, looking at everything around you instead of the man right infront of you.

"I-my name is Soobin," he stammers out, and you hate the way affection bubbles up inside of you at how endearing you find his nervousness.

"Y/n," is all you offer in response, but you know you're already treading a dangerous line here just by continuing to talk to him.

"That's a pretty name," was he...flirting with you? Did he not realise the trouble you two could get into if anyone saw you? Or did he just not care?

"Do you not know I'm a dryad?" You blurt out, completely perplexed by this strange, beautiful man.

He does seem taken aback by that. Oh, it seems he didn't know. You know it's completely illogical, and he's a total stranger, but you can't help the sting of disappointment you feel.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just saw you the other day and I really wanted to talk to you. If you're uncomfortable around water spirits in general, I understand. Again, I'm sorry," he rushes out, an appealing flush colouring his cheeks.

Wait, he thought he was making you uncomfortable? He wasn't put off by you being a dryad?

"You're not...disgusted to find out I'm a dryad?" You ask tentatively, hands gripping the fabric of your robe tighter than you care to admit as you wait for his answer.

"Are you disgusted that I'm a water satyr?" He fires back at you.

"No," you whisper, and you're being truthful. Frankly, you never understood why there was so much animosity between the two peoples.

"Well, there's your answer," he says with a smile that softens his face in a way that tempts your heart to beat out of your chest.

"Why? Our people despise each other. We'd probably be shunned if they even saw us talking," you ask, genuinely curious. You'd never met a water spirit that hadn't immediately been hostile towards you. You have a suspicion that his experiences have likely been similar.

"Why would I hate people for no reason? Some centuries old feud has nothing to do with me," he says so casually as if that wouldn't get him murdered by his people.

This man, Soobin, was going to be an issue.

"What about you? What's compelled you to continue to keep talking to me?" He asks, his gaze turning curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment. Was this a trick? Could you trust this man you knew virtually nothing about? Either you were an imbecile or he was being genuine, so you answered, "I feel the same way you do. I've never understood the hostility between our peoples."

The smile he shoots you feels like lightning has struck you.

Yes, this man was definitely going to be an issue.

"That's a relief to hear. I'd rather not lose my head for wanting to talk to you," he jokes but, you both knew that was a very real possibility.

"You're very different to other satyrs I've come across. Less...crass," you observe, your expression turning pensive.

That adorable blush rises to his cheeks once more. You've never seen a spirit flush as commonly as a human. It suits him.

"Oh uh, I've been told that. I guess I just don't feel the need to be?" He answers a little unsure, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

"It's refreshing," you say candidly. Not as though there's much worse you could say or admit to him now.

"Oh, thank you," he says with another one of this lightning inducing smiles.

"I should probably head back. The Sun will be up soon, and I don't want the other nature spirits wondering where I've been," you say, turning away from him and preparing to leave this entire interaction behind you.

"Wait! Sorry, I just-can I see you again?" Though your back is turned to him, the earnestness is clear as day in his voice.

You shut your eyes for a moment before responding,

"Okay."

[dipplinduo]

I'm so sorry this isn't pokemon related at all but I gotta know which t swift albums are your faves lmao 👀 (I'm forever stuck in the folklore/evermore days 🤎)

Okay. I am pretty rigid on keeping the blog pokemon-related, but you, dear anon, have asked me about something that I love more than anything else.

So I'm gonna just go wild with this and give you more than you asked for because frankly I am one of the biggest swifities on this Earth and honestly squeal any time I get the opportunity to talk about Taylor's music because of how much of a massive impact it has had on me. I get nervous with each drop but, without fail? Each and every album, in order, tends to follow themes in my life and somehow encapsulates a lot of what I'm going through in some way. I love each of these albums in their own way, and it's a bit hard to give them rankings. Less favorites are still very much favorites though!

1 - reputation

Holy trinity: I Did Something Bad; Don't Blame Me; New Year's Day Honorable mentions: literally every other song

This album was a torniquet for me, and even when I'm not fully relating to it emotionally as much it may just be permanently cemented in my heart and soul as the top dog because of how monumental it was to me. It dropped at a time in my life when I was reallllyyy going through it, and a lot of the overarching narrative of "I will survive this tooth and nail for better days, even if my dignity is lost" resonated hard. I think the presentation and marketing of this album was utterly genius (reclaiming the narratives, sound production/lyrical risks and imagery that were executed JUST right, the MERCH REFERENCES, the "bombastic, external persona" that transitions to "this is the real me behind closed doors; I found and cherish what's truly important and that's all that really matters", etc.) was just perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. IDSM AMA 2018 performance is also the best live performance ever, forever obsessed. Overall, this album is the one I turn to whenever life is hard and I want to fan the flames of resilience.

2 - evermore

Holy trinity: coney island; tolerate It; 'tis the damn

Honorable mentions: champagne problems; gold rush; long story short; Willow

God, I love evermore. Didn't even realize how much I did until the past year or so. I have a lot of deep cuts on this album, and like folklore, it was just SO awesome to have albums where the general public could see more of Taylor's quill pen songwriting on full display (although glitter gel pen songs are EQUALLY cool). I love the maturity behind this album and it actually taught me how to fall in love with the colder seasons and weather. Coney Island specifically lowers my blood pressure like no other song has ever done and I can't even tell you fully why; it's so surreal and serene to listen to on planes. And tolerate it? CHRIST. When I revisited it as I went through some of it in real time, OOOF. DIFFERENT LEVEL OF RESPECT. It is def in my top 5 songs. 3 - folklore

Holy trinity: caridgan; the 1; hoax

Honorable mentions: my tears richochet; mad woman; the lakes; peace; invisible string; august

CARDIGAN. CARDIGAN. Rep is my favorite album, but cardigan is my favorite song ohmygooood. Never have I ever felt something epitomize my life experiences and personhood - it quite literally feels like an encapsulation of my soul. I feel very spoiled that it got to be a single and mv - just absolutely stunning. Personally, I connect this song to a return to lost childhood innocence. And I am proud to say I own one of the original original cardigans and the only way you can separate it from me is by prying it from my cold, dead hands. BUT YES, FOLKLORE IS ELITE. The storytelling on this album is next level and the surprise drop of such intricate thought during the height of the pandemic was very needed. Hoax is an oddly specific lullaby for me because it was a specific comfort to me at one night. The 1 is just ooOOOOF also.

4 - Lover

Holy trinity: All Of The Girls You Loved Before; Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince; Cornelia Street

Honorable Mentions: False God; Cruel Summer; I Think He Knows; Daylight

I honestly don't give this album enough credit because I resonate a lot with its visuals and messages. It is def a bit more slapped together than others, but I do like the symbolism in that. Lover is about all forms of love (romantic, familial, platonic, self-based) and I often times get told by irl peeps that this alongside the folkmore albums are the kinds of energies I tend to emit lol. Daylight in particular has one of the most fire TS quotes at her adlib at the end with the whole "You are what you love" thing, and GOD. Any time I think of it or hear it I re-evaluate a lot to make sure I can live by it. Fun fact: revisiting the song is how I ended 2023, and it was the trigger that made me decide to write fanfiction & start this blog, because it's important to follow all sorts of things that make you happy! <3

5 - 1989 (TV)

Holy trinity: New Romantics; Say Don't Go; I Know Places

Honorable Mentions: Bad Blood (both versions; fight me); YOU ARE IN LOVE UGH; Is It Over Now?; Style; Clean

This album is pop perfection and I think every Swiftie can agree on that universally even if you're not a big fan of 1989. But ooohhh my gosh, this album set me free when it came out. There are so many positive messages about expressing yourself, leaning into the messes of life, and also, just letting yourself loosen up a bit. I was in a bit of an angsty emo phase when the og came out (lol) and Taylor's bubbliness challenged me in a great way and helped me get a bit of my sunshine back. It was my second most anticipated TV re-release, and the vault tracks DID not disappoint. Now that I'm more in the range of what Taylor was reflecting on at the time, too? OOF. DO I FEEL MORE CONNECTED THAN BEFORE.

6 - Fearless (TV)

Holy trinity: Mr. Perfectly Fine; The Way I Loved You; Forever & Always (Piano Version) Honorable Mentions: Change; You're Not Sorry; White Horse; Fifteen; The Best Day; You Belong With Me

Gosh. Fearless. FEARLESS. This album just stands out to me as such an homage to my childhood in a lot of different ways - but more so of the braver side of me in it. I absolutely love the imagery and dramatics of this album and feel like its just a bucket of sunshine and golden stars and warmth. It takes me back to simpler days, and I love love love how Mr. Perfectly Fine leans straight into some of the bangers I really loved on the og. This is more of a sunshiny fire album to me.

7- Midnights

Holy trinity: You're Losing Me; Dear Reader; Bejeweled (new! lmao)

Honorable Mentions: You're On Your Own, Kid; Would've Could've Should've; Lavender Haze; Anti-Hero; Midnight Rain; Mastermind; Snow On The Beach (feat. More Lana Del Ray)

This album is very dreary in a lot of ways, and jeez, I needed it when it first came out. Happy to say I went from more of a "Dear Reader" vibe to a "Bejeweled" vibe from release to now. I love the concept behind it so much and it's interesting to be able to relate to the "coming out of the dread" side thats sprinkled in here and there. It speaks to the more "stormy" parts of me that I tend to hide from others, and I really relate to TS's portrayal of it given her own general outward disposition.

8 - Red (TV)

Holy trinity: All Too Well 10 Minute Version; I Knew You Were Trouble; Begin Again

Honorable Mentions: Better Man; Girl At Home (fight me); Nothing New; Sad Beautiful Tragic; Treacherous

Okaayyy, THIS is the fall album. And we're getting to the point where these beautiful albums LOOK like they're ranked low, but the favoritism is still very much high regardless. God, ATWTMV took ATW and added a whole MAGNITUTE of maturity and retrospect that really speaks to a personal experience that I've had. I am beyond grateful that we finally got it and younger me would be screaming in disbelief!! LOL. But yeah, this album is what I turn to for heartbreak at times (more so of messy, fast and quick kind of feelings), and Begin Again is very relegable as a spiritual palette cleanser. The red scarf is one of my other favorite merch items I own.

9 - Speak Now (TV)

Holy trinity: Castles Crumbling; Mean; Haunted

Honorable mentions: Foolish One; Back to December; Enchanted; Better Than Revenge (lol og lowkey); Ours (MH ruined this one for me temporarily); I Can See You

This album is another childhood reminder type of album because of how whimsical and fairytale-esque it is, but I'll admit that Fearless (TV) is a little closer to my heart. Castles Crumbling though???? OH. MY. GOD. That had my jaw to the ground and is def in the top 10. What a tragedy to add to SPEAK NOW of all albums, and what nightmarish foresight Taylor must've had to compose it way back when. Haunted also speaks to my soul but more in a familial kind of way, and Mean? Mean is the spiteful little child in me LOL.

10 - Taylor Swift

Holy Trinity: Should've Said No; Tied Together With a Smile; Cold As You

Honorable Mentions: The Outside; A Place in This World; Picture To Burn

I'm ngl! This album I'm probably much more disconnected with compared to others despite me being a big Swiftie. Most of this is because I wasn't fully a fan when this came out, and country music isn't really my kind of jam. I'm very curious about how the TV is going to be handled and I think it's going to grow on me a bit more. Nonetheless, the holy trinity is elite and Should've Said No/Bad Blood mashup during the rep tour changed me as a person. One day I shall yee the haw here.

This was a lot of fun to share (and I know you didn't fully ask for this but HERE YA GO LOL), TS is my kryptonite and my everything and I hope you enjoyed. :) <3