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stardustsymphony · 23 days ago

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the butterfly || theodore nott

part one. part two.

summary: in third year, you and your family moved to america because of your mother's transfer, after her death, you and your father came back for you to complete your studies at hogwarts three years later. like a lot of girls in your year, you had been crushing over theodore nott since first year. but he had never reciprocated those feelings for you, hell, he's not even fully aware you have those. but that was okay, you were fine by just admiring him from a distance —untill you couldn't.

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Anna sat on the stairs, a slight bemused expression on her face as she watched you pace so fast it almost looked like you were bouncing off of some invisible walls.

“Are you done now?” Anna asked, her chin on the palm of her hand. “Make sure your heels aren't bruised.”

You ran your hand through your hair for what seemed like a millionth time in the last fifteen minutes. Sighing, you stopped and looked at Anna, your confused expression mixed with a glare as you saw her amused look.

“What're you laughing at?”

“I'm not laughing.” Anna said, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “You both are really similar, you know.”

“Both?” You couldn't help but ask, even though you had an idea about who she was referring to.

“You and Theo.” The look she gave you clearly said that she knew you knew, so you looked away, staring at the unopened letter tightly clutched in your fist, his elegant and slanted cursive handwriting making your heart beat faster.

“Honestly, it's like you're channelling all your energy into overthinking this,” Anna said, folding her arms. “Just open it!”

You glanced up at her and even though her expression was neutral, the excitement in her eyes was hard to ignore. With a knot in your stomach, you nodded hesitatingly and flipped the letter to open it.

And stopped.

You couldn't do this –opening a letter had never been so damn hard. What if this was some sort of a sick prank? Or maybe something worse? Maybe he'd seen you staring at him and was asking you to stop?

You shoved the letter in Anna's hands, going around her and sitting further up the stairs, your head in your hands. You didn't look when you heard her sigh, or walk up towards you, you kept your eyes on your shoes when she sat down besides you.

Pathetic, you told yourself. Can't even open a damn letter.

You finally looked at her when she gently nudged her shoulder against yours. Giving you a reassuring look, she placed the letter in your lap, one side of it slightly wrinkled because of how hard you had held it. You glanced at it then at her, your fingers automatically trying to smooth the crinkled ends.

“He sent it because of a reason, okay?” Anna said softly, which was so unlike her bossy personality. “He wouldn't have sent it if he didn't want you to read it. And he's obviously waiting to hear from you.”

The knot tightened in your stomach. “But…what if I open it and it's something, I don't know…bad?” you voiced your doubts, uncertainty pooling in your stomach. “What if he, I don't know, wants me to stop staring—”

“Oh, please.” Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes, her usual self slipping back in. “That boy lives on only two things; food and attention. He'd be smug even if the giant squid is staring at him.”

Was that an insult? “Wait –did you just compare me to the giant squid?”

She gave you a look. “Just open the damn letter now, will you?” she said, a bit exasperated now. “Look, it's nothing bad, I promise okay? You trust me, right?”

“Yeah,” you answered, a bit of hesitation in your voice. “But how can you be so sure?”

“As a matter of fact, I'm very sure. I helped him write it, after all.”

Wait, what?

You blinked, trying to process this new information. “You…helped him write it?”

Anna shrugged, “Technically, yeah.” She said, a glint in her eyes. “I suggested a lot of things, gave him a few sample letters and he wrote the final one. I spent almost three hours in the library yesterday with him, he spent a couple more alone—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupted her, your mind a whirlpool of confusion. This new piece of information came out of nowhere and spiked up your heartbeat so much you were afraid it would come out. “You gave him sample letters? Sample letters as in you pretending to be him writing to me?”

“Correct.”

You held up the letter. “So this is you, pretending to be him?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot. I suggested things that he could say to you, gave him examples through sample letters, and he wrote this letter with his own words and my suggestions. He even said he'd add a lot of things by himself, and he's put a lot of thought into it. He wanted it to be perfect.”

Your stomach fluttered at her words, a feeling of curiosity settling in your heart. When you didn't answered immediately, she continued,

“Trust me, if you had seen the original letter he was going to send you, you would have thrown him in the Black Lack and then jumped in yourself too. Honestly, that boy needs to understand how to use words.” She added, more to herself than you.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to open the letter. Anna said he spent a lot of time writing this, put a lot of thought into this, so it was bound to be a long letter and you need to prepare yourself for anything that would spill out of those pages.

Looking at your expression, Anna rolled her eyes. “Okay, now you're just being dramatic. It's literally just a letter.”

“I have every right to be dramatic.” You grumbled, it wasn't just a letter, it was his letter. You carefully peeled off the wax seal, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you removed it as gently as you could. When you had used stickers to seal your letters throughout your whole life, this felt oddly fancy. And despite the internal tug-of-war raging inside you, you pocketed it –the pastel purple seal with the Nott family crest was way too pretty to throw away.

“Seriously?” Anna raised an eyebrow, giving you a look as you tucked it away, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You're keeping the seal now?”

“Shut up, it's nice.” you muttered, taking out the letter from the envelope. It was a single sheet of thick paper, but it weighed as if you were holding the world's greatest treasure.

You bit the inside of your cheek, another anxious habit, and took a deep breath. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic.

But it seemed that whatever you prepared for, whatever you were being dramatic for, was thrown out of the window as you read the letter.

Seeing your expression change from anxious to blank, Anna drew closer to you, searching your face for any expression. “What is it? What did he say?”

A muscle ticked in your jaw. “How much time did you say he spent writing this?”

“Well, I'm not sure how much time he spent writing it, but he was in the library for almost four hours—”

“Four hours.” you repeated, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down and pushed your hair out of your face. “He spent four hours writing this?”

Anna's expression flickered, a bit of hesitation in her eyes. “Uh…yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” you forced out, folding the letter and shoving it into the in your bag with more force than necessary. “Absolutely nothing. Just curious.” Your fingers tightened around the straps of your bag, resisting the urge to burn the damn thing to ashes.

“What did he say?” Anna asked, her eyes following your movements. “Let me see.”

You handed her the bag, the knot in your chest tightening. Exhaling slowly, you muttered, “He’s really poetic, you know. Shakespeare of our generation.” You tried to keep the sarcasm at bay, but Anna caught it.

She gave you a wary glance before scanning the letter. “Oh,” she breathed out softly. “Oh, he fucked up. He fucked up bad.”

When you opened it, your heart lodged in your throat, you’d expected long paragraphs confirming your hopes or fears. Instead, you got:

“Can we talk?”

No ‘please.’ Just that.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.” You stood, shouldering your bag. Turning to Anna, you tried to stay calm. “You said you helped him write it, right?”

Knowing where this was heading, Anna rolled her eyes and stood, meeting you at eye level on the higher step. “I didn’t suggest that, okay?”

You gave her a disbelieving look. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, fine—I did suggest it.” She sighed. “But that was after I snapped at him to write his own damn letter. Guess he didn’t listen.”

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and disappointment weighing down your heart. Four hours for this? You had seriously hoped the letter would have been longer, at least a single paragraph would have been nice, something to help untangle the mess in your mind.

“Whatever,” you said after a beat of somewhat tense silence. “It doesn't matter. He sent a letter, I read it, end of discussion.”

“What do you mean— hey! Where are you going?”

“I have classes.” you said over your shoulder as you walked –stormed– away. Your grip on the strap of your bag was so tight, faint crescent moons dug into the leather from your nails.

“Are you going to meet him?” Anna asked, trying to catch up with you but you were walking too fast. “Or reply?”

“Meet him where? And when?” you snapped, your frustration was now slipping through your control the more you thought about his damn letter. “And most importantly; why?”

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Throughout the day, it seemed like the weather was mocking you. It was one of those soft days, as your mother used to say. Sunny, but not too sunny, windy, but it was a cool breeze against your hot, frustrated self. The white clouds floated above you softly, a stark contrast against the blue sky.

Your disappointment from the morning was now a dull weight in your heart, a weight that kept tugging your lips down in a confused frown. Your disappointment was understandable, but why were you frustrated? You weren't sure. It's not like he had promised you anything and broke it.

But it sure felt like one.

Did he actually spend four hours writing that? Or was Anna just pulling your leg? If she isn't and is actually telling the truth, then Theodore must be an even bigger overthinker than you.

‘If I was in his place, I would have never—...’ You cut your thoughts with a sigh. If you were in his place, you wouldn't have even looked at yourself twice.

“Miss L/N!”

“Y-yes?” your eyes snapped towards the front of the class, where Professor Snape was giving you an annoyed look. Wonderful, you thought to yourself. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you realised everyone's eyes were on you –even Theodore's.

‘Goddamn, his cheekbones could cut glass.’ You quickly reverted your eyes back towards Professor Snape and mentally slapped yourself, butterflies in your stomach fluttering so much you felt like throwing up.

“Sorry Professor, it won't happen again.” you muttered out, wishing on all the holy things that you weren't making a fool out of yourself.

For the rest of the class, you kept your head down and let your hair fall around your face to hide your still burning face. When the bell rang, you didn't jump out of your seat immediately, but instead took your time packing up your stuff. You weren't in a hurry to leave the class, you know that Anna would latch on your back as soon as you stepped out of the class, pursuing you to meet Theodore.

You zipped up your bag, pretending that you didn't see his letter (that was now crumbled, thanks to your frustration) and how it made your heart race.

When you stood up, ready to leave the now empty classroom and prepare yourself to run to your common room to avoid Anna, a little purple butterfly landed on your desk and laid still on the surface.

At a closer look, you saw that it wasn't just any butterfly, it was a paper butterfly. The origami looked so real you had half a heart to not even open it but you still did. You've never seen an origami this neat and were curious to know who made it.

Inside, a familiar slanted, cursive handwriting greeted you. Your heart speed up at an alarming rate, so you sat down, staring at the note.

I'll meet you tomorrow?

– T.N

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taglist: @tomriddleslove , @moonlightfoxs-cantina , @sincerelycarolines , @mqstermindswift , @jetblackpayne , @unicorns1993 , @lovedlorned, @remuslupinsswifey, @keilovr , @bruisedbbby , @pretty-royals

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #slytherin boys #theodore nott x reader #gryffindor reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #theodore nott.#theo x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fluff #draco malfoy #slytherin #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo x you

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manicpixiefelix · 10 months ago

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #head heart hand fic #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut

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the-invisible-foe · 1 month ago

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what are some common misconceptions about pathologic characters that ur sick of seeing in fandom spaces

anon thank you for blessing me with this wonderful ask this fine day

i'm gonna keep it pretty short for daniil because i don't want this to become a defense post about him and i think i've already said all there is to say but literally can we stop mischaracterizing him to this degree? it's very obvious that daniil does care about the town and the people around him given that he keeps trying to help in any way he can even when he has nothing to personally gain by doing so. and unless you're going for all the 'i'm an asshole' options in his dialogue he's actually polite and even endearing at certain points? especially that considering that during his own route he's pretty much thugging it out on his own, if anything helping the other two playable characters instead of the other way round, but in the haruspex and chageling route he's the one you turn to for help when stuff gets tough. here's a post that includes some of his lines that illustrate this point. also the implication that he's some clueless asshole that doesn't know what he's doing while artemy is The Good Doctor That Saves Everyone TM is a horrible misreading of the story and the framing of the plot. the bachelor's route is specifically a story about a person who finds themselves in such a hostile setting that, despite their best efforts, is unable to find their footing and ultimately fails at everything they try to accomplish. by interpreting this aspect of the game as daniil himself being incompetent you have missed out one of the most major points this game is trying to make.

as for artemy, i partly blame this on the developers themselves and how they handled his p2 characterisation but i dont like how the grittier aspects of his character are ignored in favor of a loving father persona. artemy can be a huge dick in classic, as can all three playable characters and a big part of why i like his and daniils relationship so much is because they're both these cold, reserved, introverted guys but allow themselves to enjoy an easier dynamic between them. i think that aspect of their relationship doesn't really work if you hc artemy as someone who is kind and cheerful from the get go.

in a similar vein i also don't like how perceptions of clara often boil down to silly teenage girl who makes meta jokes when her character is so much more than that. people completely ignore the unflattering aspects of her character, like how self-righteous she really is. i mean she's literally making it up as she goes and yet she feels so confident in herself and her methods that she finds it acceptable to trick the only two doctors into a rivalry (and then sell them out to each other for supplies despite fully believing that they intend to kill each other). also, most of the time she is not as silly and impish as people make her out to be- that's mostly the changeling. in the moments when she is herself, clara is pretty depressed.

i also dont like anna angel slander because, is she a child murderer? yeah. was she also abducted as a child herself and found herself in an extremely difficult position at a very early age? also yeah. iirc correctly shes 18 in the game and the ace of diamonds events happened years prior so basically she was a child herself. not that its wrong to criticize child murder because obviously but the way some people speak about her is insane.

also this is completely hc based and of lesser importance than everything else but i have difficulty getting behind anything remotely kinky when it comes to burakhosky because to me they will always be the kind of couple that read in silence next to each other before falling asleep at the late hour of 10:30 pm.

#pathologic #daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh #clara the changeling #anna angel #burakhovsky

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months ago

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OMG—I wanna ask the boys for sure—what is their inner animal (respectively) that THEY think they have versus what you think for them, vs what they would assign for each other???

🤣🤣🤣

#letthechaosbegin

If you wanted chaos with this internal dialogue, you certainly found it 😅 The moment I read this ask, two of the boys immediately started causing trouble which is why it took a bit to get this answered 😆 As always, it's below the cut because this was long.

Bella: Welcome back to another round of ASK THE BOYS!!

Matt, muttering under his breath: Always got to yell that now, don't you?

Frank, roughly elbowing Matt on the couch: Let the lady have her fun, would ya?

Michael, ignoring the pair beside him: What's the question this time, pet?

Bella, glancing down at her phone: Looks like a multi-part question dealing with what your inner animals are.

Frank, eyes narrowing: Inner animal?

Bella: Yeah, and it looks like they want to know what I think each of you are, what you think your inner animal is, and then what you think each others’ inner animal is.

Frank, chuckling to himself: This'll be good.

Michael: Why don't ya start us off then, pet? Might need a minute to think.

Bella: Okay, well. I guess for Frank I'd say timber wolf. The Punisher gives me lone wolf vibes, but before that you used to be a part of a pack–whether it was your family or your Marine unit. And timber wolves typically mate for life, too, which screams loyal to me. I think you're a pretty loyal person–and pretty damn terrifying if someone messes with those you care about. So yeah. Wolf vibes all around.

Frank, nodding: Alright. Guess I can see that.

Bella: And for Matt, since he gives cat vibes, I'd say a leopard. Specifically a black panther. They're solitary animals, very territorial, and they're great climbers. Sort of like how you work alone, defend Hell’s Kitchen specifically despite it being such a small area, and you climb buildings like nobody's business. Plus, you know, the black suit and all.

Matt, grinning: Better than what I thought you'd pick.

Bella: And as for Mikey, well, I get grizzly bear vibes.

Michael, rolling his eyes: Is this a reference to the beard and chest hair again?

Bella, shaking her head: Not exactly, though now that you mention it–

Michael, mumbling: Figures…

Bella: No, wait! Hear me out. Grizzly bears are actually not aggressive unless provoked or caught off guard, otherwise they kind of mind their own business and want to be left alone. But obviously they'll protect their young and would savagely tear you apart if you fucked with them. I mean, we all know you don't want to be the killer your family forces you to be, you'd rather get out and live a quiet life. You just want a relationship with your daughter, Anna. But if anyone messed with her, you'd absolutely kill them without a second thought.

[Michael, running a hand across his mouth and humming thoughtfully.]

Bella, gently nudging his leg with a foot: See? There was a reason besides your glorious chest hair.

Matt, brows furrowing together: Glorious chest hair? Did you just actually say that?

Bella, waving off his comment: Okay, so why don't you guys each say what you think your inner animal is before you choose for each other next?

Frank, shrugging: I like the wolf thing. I'll go with that.

Matt, nodding: Yeah, I think I'll stick with the panther idea you had.

Bella, frowning: Seriously? You aren't even going to give it any more thought? [Looking hopefully over at Michael.] Please tell me you're not just going to say grizzly bear now?

Michael, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck: Uh, no. I s'pose…a dog? Generally don't fight unless provoked and they're usually considered friendly?

Bella, releasing a sigh: Fine. At least you put in more effort than those two. Now what do you think each others’ inner animal is?

Frank, immediately tossing a thumb at Matt: Chimpanzee. He's always climbing on buildings and making too much noise with his mouth.

Matt, frowning: It's called talking, Frank.

Frank, leaning back into the couch: More like chimpanzee noises to me. And they're territorial, too.

Michael, quietly chiming in: I'd still say stray cat for him.

Matt, frowning: Well then Frank is a hippo. Large and incredibly aggressive.

Frank, turning and shooting Matt a dirty look: The fuck you call me?

[Bella, burying her face in her hands while Frank and Matt begin to bicker on the couch.]

Michael, once more quietly chiming in: I picture him as more of a hawk. Or an eagle. Kinda stalks his prey from a distance before takin’ his shot.

Bella, glancing up at him: Well thank you for making some level of effort here while the old married couple over there just fights.

Matt, glowering: We are not an old married couple!

Frank, scowling: He's the last goddamn person I'd wanna be shackled to.

Bella, annoyed: Can we get back on track? You still need to pick an animal for Mikey.

Matt and Frank simultaneously: Dog.

Bella, throwing her hands up in defeat: Wow, really making an effort, you two. Great job.

Frank, rounding on Matt again: Look what you did, Red. You went and upset her.

Matt, eyebrows rising up onto his forehead: Me? You're the one not taking her game seriously!

[Matt and Frank return to arguing.]

Bella, focusing on Michael: You want a coffee? Cause I could use a coffee. They're making my head hurt.

Michael, nodding and rising from the couch: Yes. I'd love one.

Bella, heading to the kitchen with Michael: So what would my inner animal be?

Michael, nervously making a face: Uh…well…

Bella, shaking her head: Nevermind. Forget I asked. Let's just make some coffee.

#bellas 2.5k follower celebration #bella hears fictional characters #of course this eventually went off the rails 🙄#thanks for actually trying mikey #matt murdock #frank castle #michael kinsella

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starlingflight · 8 months ago

Text

Ginniversary Drabble 2

Prompt: B7 - All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way

This was the hardest prompt ever!

AO3 or read below:

The door to Harry & Ron's room burst open and a whirlwind of red hair and glitter flew inside.

“Oi!” Ron sat up abruptly, glaring at Ginny. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

Ginny rounded on him, the gold tinsel draped artfully around her neck was at stark odds with the bleak surroundings of Grimmauld Place.

“I'll knock when you stop taking my things!” She declared, plucking the copy of Seeker Weekly Ron had been reading while lounging on his bed right out of his hands.

“You've already read it!” He protested, reaching for the magazine.

Ginny practically danced out of his reach. Harry could see the indecision in Ron's face as he contemplated whether this was worth getting up for.

Instead, he frowned at Ginny. “Why do you look like a fairy threw up on you?”

“It's Christmas, Ron!” Ginny's tone made it abundantly clear that this blunt answer should be sufficient to explain her decision to apparently bathe in glitter and drape herself in enough tinsel to be mistaken for a Christmas tree.

“Yeah, the season of goodwill,” Ron shot back. “So maybe you should share your magazine with me.”

“Ask nicely and maybe I will.”

Ron's only response to this suggestion was a scowl.

Ginny ignored it, turning instead to Harry, who had been watching their argument silently from his own bed.

“You live with Muggles.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Harry replied dryly.

“Who's Anna Karenina?”

“I–” Harry frowned, wherever he'd been expecting Ginny to go with her observation of his living circumstances, it wasn't this. “Why?”

“I just heard Hermione quoting her to Sirius in the hallway… I wondered who she was.”

“I don't think she's real,” Harry said, trying to remember why the name rang a faint bell in his memory. “She's from a book, I think.”

Ginny snorted derisively. “Must be an awful book. I didn't have a clue what she was going on about.”

“Why?” Ron sat fully up now. “What did Hermione say?”

Ginny took a deep breath, standing up straighter, mimicking Hermione's perfect posture without fault. “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Ron said, voicing Harry's thoughts exactly. “That's a bit heavy; Sirius is finally looking more cheerful, he doesn't need that.”

He was already rolling off the bed, shaking his head as he reached for the door handle. “I'll go and get her.”

He hurried through the door without a backward glance, intent apparently on saving Sirius from Hermione's literary analysis.

“Don't you want to join him?” Ginny asked, turning to smirk at Harry. “Aren't daring rescue missions sort of your thing?”

He smiled, relieved. Ginny hadn't appeared to hold any sort of grudge after he'd carelessly admitted to forgetting about the unpleasant events of her first year yesterday, but he'd been expecting her anger to last at least a bit longer, and hadn't exactly sought out any conversation with her just in case.

“I'm going to sit this one out,” Harry said, waving a hand at her glitter-covered form. “It's Christmas; I'm on holiday.”

She laughed. “Well, I'll try not to get into too much trouble until New Year, in that case.”

“Thanks, I'll let you know when I'm back on duty.”

Ginny nodded, already turning to follow Ron out into the hallway. She paused at the door, turning back to look at Harry over her shoulder.

“I'm making Christmas cards,” she said; the reason for all the glitter finally became clear. “I know it probably lacks the thrill of whatever you and Ron were doing, but you're welcome to join?”

Harry laughed. “I'm not sure Christmas cards fall into my skill set.”

Ginny merely shrugged. “You taught me impediment jinxes, I'll teach you proper stamp placement, sounds like a fair trade?”

Harry hesitated for a moment more, a thousand reasons not to accept Ginny's offer running through his mind, but he really was in an excellent mood since the revelation that he wasn't being possessed by Voldemort, and it seemed like a waste of a perfectly good December afternoon to remain locked in this dreary bedroom.

Nodding wordlessly, he climbed off the bed, meeting Ginny at the door.

She didn't move right away. Leaning past Harry, she threw her copy of Seeker Weekly back on Ron's bed.

She shrugged at the questioning look Harry gave her. “It's the season of goodwill.”

#hinny #harry x ginny #ginniversary bingo #christmas? in march?#i warned you there would be spam

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annawayne · 1 month ago

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Hi Anna!!!! I hope you're taking care of yourself :3 For the writers ask game, in regards to MYLYSW:

1, 2, 5, 9, 11, 13, 14

Please take care Anna, and I wish you lots of energy and inspiration and good moments to do the things you want to do :3

Oh, Moon, hello-hello!

*sigh* I'm not very good because one of my chronical health problems came back yesterday, but well, I'm as fine as I can be, considering all the circumstance, but thank you a lot for your words and questions!

It was such a great distraction to answer all of it about My Yellow Light in Your Soft Whispers (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

1 What inspired you to write the fic this way?

From the very start, I really wanted to explore Annie's character and far, far into the future, where she already experiences a lot of new things and the date of her death, when she was under curse, long expired. But since this whole traumatic event happens at the very beginning, all the next chapters are the mix of the past and the present. I think, that when something terrible happens to us which shatters all the world we knew, we always tend to look at the past, how the things used to be with the sweet longing and nostalgia. And yet, with these flashbacks I also want to show that not everything was so unclouded back then. They were happy, but didn't they just simply convince themselves for it because "this is how it should be"? Plus, all the flashbacks + the present events work together with Unreliable narrator tag - Annie IS unreliable narrator, and that's why some things the reader should read with sort of skepticism.

I think that is such a mix of the past and the present is a great way to show how messy Annie's mind is - she's constantly looking back, not even realizing that some things she sees the way she wants to see, and completely ignoring the present. The past - is her salvation. But is it a blissful oblivion or life-saving escape? Who knows. And this is what I also try to explore in this fic, and that's why we have s great amount of flashback in (almost) every chapter.

2 What scene did you first put down?

Oh, Moon, thank you a lot for this question, because the very first scenes that appeared in my mind are quite the backbone of the whole fic. One of them, is the scene from Chapter 5, with the reveal what really happened that day in March; another one - it's the scene I'm actually writing right now (like, right now-now, I made a break to answer your ask) from Chapter 10, and also the very beginning - this whole day in March was very vivid in my mind, when the first idea came to me, particularly, the scene on the stage - and the transition to AruAni's cottage, where a few times I play with readers making them believe that it was dream - or not - until we realize that it really DID happen. I did my best to confuse the readers as much as possible, and I hope it played out because I really wanted to show how much this day in March affected Annie and how it sets the whole narration rhythm from the start: we can't trust her fully, and yet, to find where's the truth which is the part of her healing, this is what I try to do.

Another scene, it's going to be a bit later, and it's maybe of the most emotional moment in the whole fic. This moment is one of the main catalyst for Annie's character, and I'm quite nervous for it, but well... I don't think too much about it for now, since we have a long way to go :D

5 What part was hardest to write?

This part is actually only yet to come... In the next chapter, 11. This is something that was, let's say, in the second wave of brainstorming for the MYLYSW plot, and I was eager to write it since the beginning, but because this scene is also VERY emotional and marking the new route for AruAni, it's a very responsible scene.

9 Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

There's some very, very, very rough idea of the alternative scenario where Armin never wakes up from his "coma", but I dismissed this idea almost right away because I wanted primarily to explore how two souls overcome something so grave and something so earth-shattering, finding the love - for yourself, for the life and for each other - once again, from the knife-edge pieces of their past scattered around. So I dismiss this very tragic scenario, and stick to "Angst with Happy ending", where through all the difficulties and turmoil, hope and desire to live are much stronger than everything, much stronger than death.

11 What do you like best about this fic?

You know, I left this question for the very end when I was answering all the previous ones because it's always a bit difficult for me to say what "I like" about my writing (and I know you know, and you asked me this question on purpose :D), and after some though I realized that I really cherish this fic for the rawness of emotions and feelings. For the way how it's all so honest that it could you even uncomfortable, how bare and how on display these characters, or, in particular, Annie is. I really wanted to reach this borderline of frankness and truth where is nowhere to hide. I don't know if I succeed, but I do my best to show nothing without sugar-coating and to dive so deep into character's mind, that sometimes it may be scary to see what really hides beneath all layers.

And I think, that this is what I like the most about this fic. How honest and raw it is.

13 What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

Oh, I have the whole Playlist for this fic, and it's 11 hr 42 min... If anyone is interested, I can share it, but please let me know T^T

And I have a few "main OSTs" for this story which are like the main lead music that settles the whole mood and vibe of the fic, and here it is:

14 Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I'll refer with my answer for this question to my answer for the question 9, too: I really want to give hope to everyone who is going through very difficult times that, no matter what, the sun will always come. Even if everything looks so devastating, gloomy, scary and absolutely terrifying, I just want everyone to feel that the things don't get better overnight - it's a process. Long and something torturous, but it's a process, and every day, step by step, you're closer to the moment when things will be better. No matter how angsty this fic is, it has a happy ending, a catharsis which declares that any desire to live is stronger than anything, then death itself, and that it's worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for you, and your happiness is wort it.

For me, this fic is also a reminder for myself. That no matter how difficult and scary my life is, everything ends. The last three years are the pure nightmare for me, and yet, I get up every day with the thoughts that my life is worth it, it's worth to open my eyes and it's worth to cherish it. It's worth the future. And this fic - this is also for me, and for everyone who lost their paths and their grounds. I really hope to give this hope and to show how two completely lost and broken souls find happiness and peace, and if anyone, who will read this fic, will feel some ray of hope or sign to move forward - I'll be enormously happy. Truly.

This fic is like the transition season between winter and spring: first, it's snow that melts, the barren, dry soil peeks trough the piles of dirty mess which is not even snow anymore, but just some slobs. Nights are still cold, maybe even with the frost. The sun starts shine more, but still cold. But some first petals and buds start to bloom - and they're first to die because the winter didn't leave fully. But, with each day. the sun is warmer, the snow melts into the soil and gives water to the new flowers, and the trees blossom with young leaves - and March, this endless March, when the weather always deceives you, finally go and here comes the spring, when everything is born again.

Thank you so much, Moon, for all these questions, and, to be honest, while I was answering all of it, I realized more about my own story then it was before... So thank you for it, always (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

writer's game in question

#aruani #armin arlert #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #aruani fanfiction #aruani fic #aruani fanfic #aot fanfiction #armin x annie #answered ask #ask #my writing #my yellow light in your soft whispers #MYLYSW #aruannie

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someone1348 · 2 years ago

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I just got a LEE mood after when I watched a few tk scenes from Full House-🥲🥲🥲🫣🫣🫣😳😳😳😳 (it's an American Sitcom if ur wondering lol)

We're one in the same! (I love full house!)

But I got in a lee mood from Donnies VA getting tickled AGAIN!

ASDFJKNXNLXML!

#anna ignore all of this i know you're reading it!#k's random thought of the day

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choke-me-joey · 2 years ago

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43 and 45 reuniting with Joseph Quinn after a long period of time apart

Okay but after writing this I need to be help up against a wall and fucked so I apologise if you also develop this need

43. You've missed me, haven't you? Pretty little pussy is sucking me in.

45. I need you so bad, I can't wait, I've gotta have you now.

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, rpf (don't like don't read), unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, mentions of a blowie whilst driving, established relationship, wall sex????? Idk

Hoe-vember/Dick-cember masterlist

You checked your appearance over in the mirror, smoothing down your dress. You were happy with how you looked, wearing a midi length leopard print dress and heeled boots. You checked your phone again, smiling as you saw your boyfriend's name had pinged up on the screen about 5 minutes ago.

Car is about 10 minutes away, can't wait to see you x

You text him back the GIF of Anna from Frozen when she's all excited, and carry out final checks on your hair and makeup.

It wasn't ideal, but tonight was your mum and dad's wedding anniversary party, an event that had been planned for the majority of the year. Unfortunately, when it was planned it was not envisioned that Joe would be flying back from Japan and landing literally 2 hours before you needed to get going. You had told him to stay home and sleep when he got back as you knew how exhausted he was, but he'd insisted on still attending. He loved your family and they loved him.

Now, time was tight. Joe's flight had been delayed which meant he'd just about have time to change his clothes before you'd need to leave to get to the party venue, instead of a quick shower like he'd hoped. Thankfully, he'd managed to shower on the plane (private flight, fucking wild) so he was happy to just douse himself in deodorant and cologne for a few hours, he could properly shower when you guys got home tonight/early tomorrow morning.

You hear the door open and close and you run out from the bedroom, running at your boyfriend and jumping. He catches you and your legs wrap around his waist. You don't even give him time to say hello before pressing your lips to his. He sighs happily as your tongue finds his, and he moves to press your back against the wall as you make out for a few seconds.

"Hello to you too," Joe chuckles as you break apart, foreheads resting together. "Fuck, I missed you."

"I missed you too, so much. Next time you're away for that long I'm contorting myself to fit in your bag." You grin, leaning in for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, hotter. You feel a tell tale pulse against your crotch and your pussy flutters in response, but you try to ignore it. "Joe, babe, we have to leave, we're already a little late-"

"I need you so bad, I can't wait, I've gotta have you now." Joe grunts, holding you up with one arm and undoing his jeans with the other.

Fuck it.

"Here?!" You gasp, amazed at his strength. It's always such a turn on when Joe shows how strong he really is.

"Right fucking here." Joe replies, pushing his jeans and pants down, fisting his cock a couple times before moving your dress up and underwear to the side, pushing his cock into your pussy slowly. You tense a little; you hadn't been with him in weeks so the stretch and burn was a little more prominent. "Sorry baby, just relax for me, okay?"

"So big," you whimper. "Joey, you're so fucking big."

"But you're taking me so well, love." Joe glances down at where your bodies are connected, smirking at the shine of your arousal on him. "You've missed me, haven't you? Pretty little pussy is sucking me in."

You moan loudly. "God yes, Joe, missed you so fucking much."

"I know baby, me too." Joe looks up and kisses you sweetly as he begins to move, fucking you up against the wall. "God you feel so fucking good. Been thinking about this for so long."

"Me too," you shudder as he reaches to touch your clit. "Yes, baby, just like that, don't stop."

Joe chuckles. "Gonna come for me? Already?"

You nod, and Joe adjusts his stance to assist you, making sure his cock hit that spot inside you on every single thrust. After a few years together he knew exactly how to make you feel good. His fingers don't leave your clit, rubbing in quick circles, desperate to feel you fall apart for him.

You shriek out his name as you come hard, soaking Joe's cock and shirt that he hadn't managed to remove. "Fuck yes, that's my good girl, squirting on my cock like that." Your pussy clenches around him and he shudders. "Not gonna last long."

"I don't care, come inside me." You grab his face and make him look at you. "Come for me, Joe."

"Oh fuck," Joe almost whimpers, his eyes fluttering shut. You tap his cheek gently.

"Look at me when you fill me up, baby." You whisper and Joe nods, moaning loudly as he pushes inside you as deep as he can, his cock pulsing and twitching as rope after rope of his cum fills you. His knees wobble with the force of his orgasm as his head drops to your shoulder. You run your nails over his scalp softly as you both try to catch your breath. "You good?"

"Can't talk, came too hard, no brain left." Joe mumbles into your collarbone and you giggle. He picks his head up and kisses up your neck, across your jawline and finally your mouth. "I love you."

"I love you." You reply, brushing your nose over his. "But now we are really fucking late."

Joe groans and yawns. "I know babe, I'm so sorry."

"If you drive, I'll blow you as a thank you."

"Let's fucking go!"

#joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #kats dickcember event #kats hoevember event #joseph quinn x y/n

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threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat · 8 months ago

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How to win Dirty Laundry.

I'm no expert on lying or deduction, I just take this show pretty serious when I watch it, and I think the patterns to notice in this game offer a cool lens into interpersonal communication.

I. How to not catch liars. Liars largely aren't that spottable. Buckle in for this one: it's usually easier to eliminate ~3 honest people than to find one liar. Liars tend to be hyperaware of everything they do and end up doing nothing. Everyone's all too aware of the concept of tells, so here are some anti-tells that actually work.

The first to talk after hearing the secret read is a truth teller. Seriously. I can maybe count on one hand the number of times the liar spoke first, but everyone alllllllways ends up suspecting the first talker.

If someone unnecessarily implicates themself, they're likely a truth teller. For instance, giving a related anecdote is a strong anti-tell.

Truth tellers will dig deeper into the wording and theorizing cause they're actually trying to find a liar.

Less solidly, the biggest, flashiest accusers tend to be truth tellers. Liars try to fade into the background, so if someone is going ham on a theory--and not simply after they've been targeted--it's often someone unworried about the attention.

II. How to catch liars. There are somewhat tells. Sometimes. There are more in this list than the previous, but this is all less sure. The rest of your natural suspicions will help. The state I'm in when I get more things right is aware of my instincts but not reliant on them.

If everyone thinks someone's the liar, they're right.

Don't let anyone off the hook. Accuse for whatever reason, then see how they react.

Because liars usually act the same each time they lie--going quiet, going loud, accusing, double bluffing, whatever. My theory is people have a strong pre-built idea of what looks suspicious, so they won't be worried about lying the same way as last time as much as being suspicious at all.

Liars sometimes act ignorant and way overdo it. Like folks who say they're unaware of basic relevant world knowledge or fully skipped relevant life experience or just forgot the question. It's possible but it's suspicious.

There are some contestants who are just good liars. There usually aren't multiple in one episode (besides Lily and Grant, but it's safe to ignore them as a baseline). If someone fully outwits me on their first lie, especially by breaking any of the above patterns, and I have no suspects later, I'll just have to suspect them. Aabria Iyengar and Anna Garcia could sell me sand in a desert.

Not sure how the show's edited and how much of this is actually applicable to people in the game, but there's always some meta information for us to use. Everyone will get at least two secrets in the episode somewhere, usually no one will repeat until three distinct people have had a turn, often exactly three, they tend to space out each guest's secrets, and Lily and Grant will rarely appear early or be the episode's title. If someone's been on a previous season, they're probably not gonna bring anything crazier than then.

III. How to lie. Mostly chill out a little bit. Unless you're a trash liar.

Don't talk first. As stated above, you won't fool me, but there's less of me than people with the opposite belief.

Be the second to accuse someone. Everyone remembers the accused and the first accuser, but the quiet "oh yeah I could see X doing that" gives the theory a ton of validity while flying fully under the radar.

Don't say "I know it sounds like me, but this one's not me." (Even though truth-tellers and liars both say this all the time.) The best way to lose heat is to confidently say this couldn't ever have been me.

While you're doing so, make the justification very, very concise. Simple nonsense is more compelling than convoluted truth.

You do have to have good secrets. This is an entertainment product more than a competition, so the show will probably want the craziest story, but an uncharacteristic, mild secret will always fool more people than a buckwild but on-brand one.

#if you read this and then go on the show and win you owe me a dirty laundry shot glass #dirty laundry #dropout tv #dropout

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quirkwizard · 1 month ago

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Are the movies canon? I’ve read that hori may consider them canon but I’m not 100 % sure. I know some of them appeared in the manga and anime but maybe the characters are canon but the events are not

I assume if you've already had beef with New Order, you're gonna have a field trip with Anna's quirk in the movie

I haven't gotten any exact details on the movie Quirks, but I find the fact you felt the need to warn me about it... concerning.

That's how I see it. Certain characters featured in the movies are canon, but the movies are not. Let's ignore how it's material outside of the main mangas and I tend to have a puritan view on canonicity. If it didn't happen in the volumes of My Hero Academia, Vigilantes, or Team Ups, it didn't happen at all in my eyes. For example, the tie in chapter that introduced Melissa was put in the first volume of the Team Up Mission. So while the Shields are canon, Two Heroes isn't. Because the fact of the matters is there's simply too much anime movie nonsense to make it work. There's a device that gave All Might his powers back, Bakguou got "One For All", and Izuku became an international criminal. And now we got All Might's evil, wizard clone invading Japan with the help of a kidnapped princess. How on Earth does stuff as big as this happen, and yet it's never brought up in the manga? It works as a fun romp, but anything more then that and it falls apart.

#My Hero Academia #Not Quirks #Melissa Shield #MHA Meta #MHA Theory

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nicoline1998enilocin · 1 year ago

Text

Parent night at school

PAIRING | Teacher!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.6K

SUMMARY | Bucky organized a parent night at school to talk about the progress of the kids. This time you're invited too, and you can't wait to see the man you fell for. When you get there, you and Bucky are having a great time until Anna calls with the fact that Luca just got sick. You feel bad about cutting the time you have with Bucky short, but he doesn't mind, he knows how important Luca is to you.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Mention of period blood, Luca being sick (nothing explicit mentioned).

A/N | This one shot is part of my Teachers Universe AU, but can be read as part of the story, or a standalone one shot! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AU Masterlist

Today is going to be a long day, and you're not exactly ready for it but you have to get going regardless. It all started when you woke up and you saw that you got your period and the sheets were stained with blood. ''You've got to be kidding me,'' you said when you saw, and the first thing you did is strip your bed and throw it into the washing machine before hopping in the shower and cleaning yourself up. You should've seen it coming since you're on birth control, but that doesn't take away the fact that you still despise it with every fiber of your being.

Today is the one day in the week you have class, so you have to bring Luca to school before getting to class and it is usually a pretty close call, but now you're afraid you're going to be straight up late. You text Shanna, your classmate, that you're most likely going to be late for the first period (no pun intended), but you will try and hurry regardless. She sends a quick response that it's okay and you should just take it easy but you can't. Not when you know you're going to see Bucky again tonight. You haven't seen him apart from dropping Luca off and picking him up again at school, so you're excited to have at least a little alone time with him.

You put on a simple outfit that is comfortable enough for school, but also nice enough to see Bucky in later tonight before getting Luca ready for school. ''Mornin' Bubba, are you ready for breakfast?'' you ask him as you're packing your school books and laptop into your backpack, and packing Luca's backpack afterward. ''Hi, Mom. I'm ready!'' he says and you give him a bowl of cereal since you don't have that much time this morning. He quickly eats it as you eat a banana to quench some of your hunger, you figured you'd just eat some more during class. Just when you're about to run out the door your phone goes off, but you decide to ignore it for now.

Traffic is surprisingly light this morning which means you're at Luca's school sooner than expected, and you might be on time for your first class after all. ''Good morning Mr. Barnes!'' Luca says happily as he runs into the classroom and towards his table. ''Good morning Luca!'' he says. ''Hi Y/N, you look good!'' he says and you thank him softly. ''I'm sorry, I have to hurry otherwise I'll be late for school. Would you mind if I bring dinner tonight to our scheduled time? I won't have time for dinner between school and coming here. Also, Anna will be picking him up this afternoon,'' you say and he nods. ''Sounds good, can't wait to see you tonight,'' he says with a wink and you run back to your car.

The drive to your school is also relatively okay and you park with a few minutes to spare. You run to class and just when the time reaches 8:30 you set foot inside the classroom, and you're still on time. ''Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N,'' your professor says, and you say your greeting out of breath as you're sitting down next to Shanna. ''Thank god I made it. Traffic was light so that's why I was able to make it, otherwise I would've been late,'' you sigh as you get out your laptop and textbooks. The first few classes go by quickly and before you know it it's lunch time.

You and some of your classmates find a picnic table outside to eat your lunch, and just when you're about to take a bite of your sandwich you receive a text from Bucky. You completely forgot about the text this morning and you only now noticed you didn't reply.

Bucky 🎓 - I can't wait to see you again tonight, one of the parents canceled so you will be the last one of the evening. We will have all the time to catch up 😉

Bucky 🎓 - Is everything okay? I'm sorry if I overstepped this morning, I'm just excited to see you again!

Y/N 🩷 - You didn't overstep this morning, I should be the one who's sorry! I can't wait to see you again tonight either. I missed you way too much ever since our date =(

Bucky 🎓 - Thank god, I was really worried I did something wrong. You can just bring whatever you fancy for dinner tonight, just make sure to order more than enough since we're both going to be hungry after a long day of school 😘

You were so wrapped up in texting Bucky that you didn't notice the fact that your classmates were all looking at you like there was something on your face. ''Can I help you guys with anything?'' you laugh and they quickly shake their heads. ''No, nothing's wrong. We're all just wondering who got you smiling like the Joker. You smile any wider and your face will split in two,'' Jason said and you shake your head. ''Just someone I know. I'm not willing to spill any details with you all just yet,'' you say and now they keep bugging you about it until you finally cave.

''OKAY, okay! I'll tell you, but you can't be weird about it. A few weeks ago I went on a date with this great guy, but the problem is that he is Luca's teacher, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. He's amazing and he loves kids - which is a huge bonus. He's also a true gentleman, like the complete opposite of my ex-husband and he makes me feel loved, and like I deserve to be treated like he treats me, but it's just the fact that he's my son's teacher I can't quite get past,'' you sigh, but they're all ecstatic for you.

''Let me get this straight. You're seeing a guy who is treating you like an absolute queen, who probably has the best dick you've ever seen to have you all giddy like that, AND he loves kids? Girl, I get that he's Luca's teacher, but if I were you I would have locked him down ages ago!'' Jess says, and it makes you blush. ''Well, if you say it like that...'' you say, and before anyone can answer the bell rings, notifying that lunch is over and you have more classes. By the time it is 5 PM your last class of the day starts and it is supposed to be done by 6 PM, yet it is 6:30 PM and you're still not on your way to see Bucky, instead you're still working hard due to the assignment that has to be finished before you're allowed to go.

You quickly shoot Bucky a text that you'll be late and you're bringing Italian food, and he just replies with a quick thumbs up. Finally, it is 6:50 PM and you're allowed to go, so you hurry to your car and on your way to pick up dinner to see Bucky. It is 7:45 PM by the time you're finally at Luca's school, and your appointed time was at 7 PM. You rush into Bucky's classroom and he looks up at the sounds of you running in completely out of breath. ''Hi doll, you finally made it I see!'' he laughs and you nod. Bucky was preparing for tomorrow's lessons so it was fine that you're late, this way he didn't have to do it in the morning.

''C'mere,'' he says as he pulls you by your waist towards him, giving you a kiss which you immediately melt into. ''How's my favorite girl doing?'' he asks and you sigh. ''I'm extremely tired and hungry, but besides that I'm good,'' you tell him and he smiles. ''You?'' ''Better now that I'm finally having dinner with you again,'' he says and you just smile. ''Kiss-ass,'' you mutter under your breath, but he heard you perfectly fine. ''How can I not be when yours is absolute perfection?'' he says with a straight face as he gets out the pasta you brought.

When the two of you were eating, he discussed Luca's progress in class - he's doing very well and is even further than the rest on some of the subjects -until you were getting a call. You immediately knew you wouldn't like whoever was calling you, but you decided to pick up regardless. ''Anna, is everything okay?'' you ask, and she doesn't do much to reassure you. ''Hi, sorry to bother you on your parent night. I'm not sure, Luca isn't feeling well and I'm not sure what's wrong with him,'' she says, the worry laced thick in her voice. ''It's okay, I'm coming. I should be there in no more than 30 minutes,'' you say as you hang up.

''I'm so sorry, Bucky, but Anna just called that Luca isn't feeling well and she can't seem to figure out what's wrong. Do you mind if we have a do-over of dinner in a few days?'' you ask as you gather your stuff. ''No, of course not. Luca is more important, so you should be there for him. He needs his mom more than I do,'' he says with a wink, and you feel relieved that he understands. ''I'm so sorry again, but thank you for understanding,'' you tell him as you walk up to him for another kiss. ''Gonna miss you, but I will see you tomorrow morning I hope,'' you tell him, and he happily pulls you in for a kiss. ''Can't wait to see you again, doll,'' he says before he lets you go and sinks back into his chair. Can't wait to be buried inside you, either, he thinks to himself, a small smile playing on his lips.

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