#event time!!! Send asks!! Ask for asks!! Let’s get it going!!

[goldsbitch]

Twelve grapes

chapter 1 -he'll be passionate...

Max is stuck at an uneventful party, a spell so bad only Charles can break it. Rage meets awkward.

words: 3k warning: alcohol mentioned, other than that nothing

Max shifts in his chair for what feels like the fiftieth time. He wishes he could be anywhere else in the world than this random apartment in Monaco, stuck in pointless conversations with useless people.

He has no idea who decided this evening’s gathering was a good idea. A comical event "F2 and F3 drivers dinner" - cheap copy of the thing F1 does. Surely they'd invited more people who were actual F1 drivers, like himself, but nobody else showed up. Max vows not to make this mistake ever again.

His mom wants him to make some friends at the paddock ("You never know when you're gonna need a friendly face"), his father would probably be the happiest if he managed to blow up the whole room ("You can't trust anyone, Max. Crush them before they crush you"). It was only recently that his mom started to have inputs into how he approached the world of racing. Confusing times. But Max knows his father is right. He isn't here to make friends.

He doesn't speak much, but he also does not listen to the conversation other are involved in.

Topics involved so far: models of Monte Carlo every team they are "talking to and it's looking promising" the latest trick their trainer taught them rent and real state prices going up (most of these people are teenagers struggling with budgets for their racing, so this was a particularly baffling topic for Max to wrap his head around)

They are all stupid. Little boys who care too much for the glam, and not enough for the work. Two of them already earned a middle finger from Max when they asked him to recommend them to F1 teams. Pathetic. He gets involved in slightly more interesting debate about the set up of F2 engines for the next seasons. Ideas to be pitched for approval. But his inputs are washed over, because one quickly gets used to having thirty engineers around all the time and where the limits of the lesser championships lie.

He knows well enough he is an anomaly. However condescending it might have sounded, nobody in that room put as much into racing as he had. It feels like visiting a kindergarten as a proud fourth grader.

The mood shifts immediately as the one and only, Charles Leclerc, waltzes in. Forever smiling, albeit a bit shyly at first. Max watches him, as he goes and makes rounds. Greats everyone, hands out smiles, like it isn't an absolute dread to spend time in the presence of these people. Max figures Charles doesn't know that he already knows. He wasn't expecting him to show up at all, when he didn't see him in the room already upon his own arrival. God boy Charles, always first everywhere, ever so polite. Where he finds the energy to do, Max will never understand. Max is at least clear about who he is. You'll get the same person on and off track. The polar opposite of whatever game the Monegasque is playing. Menace on track, annoyingly sweet in real life.

Charles is soon to be announced as an F1 driver. Christian Horner makes sure to have all the intel. One of the advice Max actually took to heart from him. Max is sure nobody in this room has any idea. Perhaps not even Charles's best friends. He feels a weird sense of pride, knowing something other people don't. Normally, he'd just pass Charles by and try to ignore him, perhaps more than he would with other people. Out of all those drivers, he was the one that Max somewhat feared. Little too fast, bit reckless and not afraid to send it in. They'd already had their fair share of battles and now he would join on the grid once again. Max had a hard time figuring out how he felt about that. This night, he felt a desperate need to let Charles know that he knows. But, he's never going to be the one approaching Charles. Even if that means not talking to him at all. Max is a proud young man. Leclerc is too, but in a different way.

"Well, look who we have here, the young talent himself," Charles greets Max with slightly sour and sarcastic undertone. Max takes it as a compliment, happy to be speared of the fake pleasantries.

He nods back at him. "Charles." Max doesn't know what else to say. The boy should be glad he used his first name anyway. Soon, they'll be rivals again. The idea of beating him on track again is thrilling.

To his surprise, Charles sits down on the empty chair next to him. "I see you got a haircut," he proclaims casually and observes Max's head a little too much to his liking. He can't help himself but run his fingers on the short pointy hairs on the side of his head. Charles chuckles and somehow manages to sip on a drink in the most condescending way known to man. "It looks ugly. I'll give you my mother's number, she'll take you in with a discount."

Max couldn't give two shits about what Leclerc thinks. He might as well call him a frog, he'll still be a better racer. And that's the only thing that matters. He spends a little too long on crafting a response.

"I imagine you'll need one soon, something more aerodynamic," he blurbs out just before Leclerc's smug breaks his face. Max is proud he did not stutter. Baby steps.

He must have understood what he's hinting at, so clumsily, but chooses not to play along. "I don't need it, I look fabulous, as always," he says and dramatically runs fingers through his hair.

"If you say so. Can't wait until we test it out on a track," Max replies and sips his beer, so that he has something to do with his hands.

Both of them know, that there will be no real fight next year. Charles will be in Sauber, or as it's often referred to - shitbox. Max is in one of the top teams. Charles stays silent for few moments, perhaps taking it in.

"Nobody knows yet. How do you know?" he asks finally, breaking his façade. Not really ready to reveal his sources, he panics and winks at the brown haired man. He follows this up by a loud gulp and a wish for this interaction to be over as soon as possible. His goal is achieved and anything beyond this point is a risky situation.

With all the audacity of the world, Charles pauses for a mere second and then laughs. "Okay, okay. I understand. You'd have to kill me if you tell me."

"Something like that," Max responds and remembers back those days when he thought that the F1 paddock was a serious place and not a literal sieve, where nothing could stay a secret for a long time. For some reason, he enjoys the fact he knows more than Leclerc. For now at least.

"I've just come back from the first photoshoot with Sauber," Charles whispers and out of nowhere whips out his phone, leans in and starts showing Max some pictures on his phone. Baffled Max does not know what do with Leclerc going so deep into his personal space. His first reaction is to pull away and shove his back.

"Mate, I don't care about your photos," he says a little too loudly and defensively. Few people glance at them, but this incident is not as attention-grabbing as one would expect. Charles, retreats and does his best to hide hints of embarrassment.

Max would never admit that it makes him feel bad. Never. "I am more interested in your test times." This time he is the one to lean in closer. Only so that others don't hear him, of course.

Charles's confidence bounces back, him seemingly recovering to his usual cocky level pretty quickly. Max remembers how great it felt when he first got his seat in F1. To be honest, he finds it surprising Charles isn't dancing on the table.

"You know I would never tell you that," he replies and only now is Max noticing that Charles is dressed in the ugly colors of his new team. He almost asks him if that is on purpose.

"Shame. Racing is the main thing. Nothing else is important to me," he hints back at the photos. Charles shoots back without missing a beat.

"Interesting. I always dreamed of being a model and I decided to go the most unconventional and impractical way," he snaps sarcastically. He stays still for a moment and then breaks into a smile. "See you on track, Verstappen," he says quietly, pats him on his shoulder, gets up and walks away to continue his rounds around the room.

Max sits and wonders why this was the most vexing interaction he had this whole evening.

It's like Leclerc has some sort of light following him everywhere he goes. Max can't help, but be hyperaware of where he is, almost all the time. He soon gets real tired of just sitting around, looking unapproachable, and decides to change his strategy for the evening. And he tries. He really does. It's looking better, he is tuning into his more chatty and fun part of personality.

That is until one of the useless F2 rookies decides to "accidentally" spill a drink on him. Quickly back where he started, annoyed Max is drying his t-shirt, dark colored stain unwilling to go away. He does not know when it happens, but suddenly, Charles is next to him once again.

"You’ve really warmed up to this party, haven’t you?" he observes Max, who is frantically trying to dry his t-shirt. It's not like he cares about clothes. He just wants to go home. The decision to finish this drink, end the conversation and finally get away is made fast.

"I'm not here to make friends, Charles," he says, shooting arrows at the guy from Sweden, who ruined his t-shirt, and has moved on on nagging someone else, finally.

Charles positively laughs. "Oh, good thing. You're terrible at it."

Should Max punch him? Is that an appropriate response? Out of nowhere, Charles, reaches for Max's hand and stops his frantic movements.

"Screw this, some people are gonna go and play darts," he hints over to the other side of the room. "Come join. You good at it?"

It comes as a natural reflex to say it. "Better than you."

Charles puts his hand on Max's bicep, making him tense up a bit. "Glad to hear that, come on then," he says as he starts dragging him away.

Max decides not to waste energy on protesting. One game and then he's gone.

Two other people are already waiting, with spare darts in their hands.

"Oh good, you found an interesting opponent," comes from one of them. Max knows him, Ralph from somewhere, with some surname and most importantly, driver in F2. The second guy, he does not know, nor does he care about getting to know him. He hears the name and immediately forgets it. He tries to avoid staring at Charles, who is working the room again, having the two guys glued at him from the moment they'd showed up. He throws around light-hearted jokes and angelic smiles. While Max is standing next to him, big stain on his chest and gripping a bottle of beer so tightly his fingers are almost numb.

"Are we here to play or is this a chat room?" he blurts out, mainly just to join the conversation really. He is unable to find any other way how apart from snarky comments.

Max watches Charles pick up a dart, his movements annoyingly casual, like this is just another photo op.

"You sure you’ve done this before?" Max mutters, arms crossed.

Charles grins. "I’m a natural at everything." He lines up the shot, pausing dramatically. "Want to make it interesting?"

Max narrows his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Loser buys drinks at the next Monaco party."

"Boring," he reacts with obvious disappointment.

"Fine, what about this. The ultimate loser has to compliment the winner, here, in front of everyone. How about that?" suggests Ralph and something about the way how he pronounced the word champion makes Max twitch. It just sounds wrong.

"Fine," says Charles before anyone has time to object and throws his first dart, only just missing the bullseye. He smirks. "Not bad for a warm-up."

Max steps up, his expression unreadable. His throw hits closer to the center, and he allows himself a small, smug smile.

"Beginner’s luck," Charles says, reaching for another dart, almost forgetting there are other people involved in their game.

As the game progresses, it becomes painfully obvious that Ralph missed his calling and should have competed in darts professionally, instead of racing. And that the other guy is about as bad as one can get in darts. Max only feels challenged by Charles, in fact, he does not care how the other two do. Him and Charles are only few point from each other, every turn the other one leading.

It is frustrating to end up third, but it stings to end up behind Charles. The angelic man does not seem bothered by losing as he grins at Max when the last round is finished. They ignore the scene happening next to them, Ralph teasing the other guy and gathering a crowd to hear his compliment.

"You know, in a few years, maybe months, I’ll be your biggest problem on the grid," Max hears Charles whisper, still riding the high of beating him.

Bickering with Charles comes naturally to the Dutch driver. "Maybe once you get to drive a car that actually has all eight gears."

"Once I do, that's when you'll really need to start trying." Max knows he is right and it makes his throat tight.

Charles seems to be genuinely interest in the scene happening in front of them and Max misses the joke everyone suddenly laughs to.

"So tell me, if you had to compliment me, what would you say?" he hears Charles once again.

Max glares at him with thinly veiled ridicule before rolling his eyes.

Charles is relentless. "Come on, you'll tell me mine and I'll tell you yours..."

It is an intriguing thought, to know what this pseudo-French model-driver thinks of him. It's not like this wasn't the main thing occupying Max's brain the whole game - what in hell would he say to Charles anyway? How he admires his dedication? How nonchalantly he seems to deal with anything thrown at him? The kindness that fuels him? In the end, when he saw himself almost losing the game, he decided against anything that might embarrass himself. Playing it safe.

"You have a nice face," he blunts out, using his tone to make it sound as casual as possible. It still makes his stomach turn. He avoids looking at Charles, in order to keep his composure.

Charles chuckles, once again. "Ah, come on. That's boring. True! But boring," he shakes his head, further giving away his disapproval.

Max sighs. There is never a calm moment with this man. "Fine, what about you? What's your genius compliment?"

The man standing next to him, close enough so that nobody else hears them, stares into the crowd of people. After few moments of scanning them, he finally speaks.

"One thing that I can't shake...I think people don't give you enough credit. Everyone talks about your talent, how your dad pushed you to the limit, but I’ve seen how hard you work—like, really work. Most of us, we dream about F1, but you… you live it. You're hard on yourself, but in a weird productive way. It’s impressive. And lonely I imagine."

His words ring in Max's ears, like a song that is too loud. The fact Charles casually throws his dad into the conversation, as if that wasn't a total dealbreaker for him. The fact he dares to brush on the one feeling Max has had push down for months now.

"Soon you won't have to imagine," he says through gritted teeth, because he does not know how to deal with a compliment that actually reaches something within him.

There is a silence for a moment, Max looking for anything to fill it with, anything that would wash away the reminder of the ever-present loneliness he feels everyday. But, for second time today, Charles beats him.

"I'm nervous, Max. Excited, of course. But what, if I fuck it up, that's it. Years of work, not only mine, down the drain. I'm just...I don't know, have you ever felt like that?"

Max, already on edge, does not understand why is Charles filling him up with information he might use against him. Is he completely stupid? They are rivals. And they are going to be for a long time, Max is sure of that, more than anything. Unlike the soon-to-be-rookie driver in front of him, Max calculates his response. No matter how true and relatable he finds everything that Charles is saying. Of course he knows what that feels like. He does not have it in his heart to reveal that this fear does not go away with time. There are two things he decides to tell him. Giving out as much sincere advice as his brain allows him.

"Firstly. Don't ever tell any other driver, especially your teammate that. They will, and trust me, use it against you. Clear on that?" he scolds him like a school boy, but tries to keep it kind. Not like when his father was giving out advice. Charles seems to understand, biting his cheek nervously.

"Are you going to do that?" he asks without blinking.

Max does not have to think twice. Almost finds it insulting that Charles would suggest that. "No. I can beat you on track, I don't need politics."

This answer seems to satisfy Charles. "Deal," he says, implying he is not going to lower to that himself when he has the chance one day. Max finds it hilarious that he would immediately think of that. But also a bit calming. If there is one thing he hates about F1, it's the gray morality behind closed doors.

He continues, before it gets awkward. "Secondly. No, I don't think that. I am good, really good. Doubting myself will not lead to winning."

If there ever was a time Max has told a big, fat lie, it was this one. There are days where he walks around the factory, thinking they'd hired him by accident. Moments, when he fucks up so bad, he actually fears Helmut Marko's disappointed sighs. But he has to defend from Charles, who seems to somehow see through him more than other people. There is a glint in Charles's eyes, a strange spark max does not how to decipher.

"Got it" Charles finished their debate, his unreadable expression staying on. Right after he speaks, some random guy decides to interrupt their conversation. Max takes this as an opportunity to finally call it a day. He leaves with a stained shirt and a cloudy mind.

chapter 2

[fashionteahouse]

i wonder - edward cullen x reader

You patiently waited as the doctor came in. The nurse already checked your vitals. She tells you it’s been a pretty eventful day.

His face was magical in a way but you felt comfortable. His smile was bright and shiny and you couldn’t help but bring out your own smile.

“I know you’re ready to get this thing off.” he says to you and you nod.

It was true. You were tired of doing everything with one hand. The special saw cut through the cast and you look at the limb that’s been covered for some time. It felt freeing.

You walk out of the room as you thank the doctor.

“Now remember, no playing right away. Wait for a few days to a week.”

“Aw, really?” you say with much disappointment.

“It’s important that you don’t rush it. Your other hand I’m sure is thanking you.”

“It’s no fun playing with one hand.” you say with a playful pout and Dr. Cullen laughs a bit. Placing a hand on your arm, “It won’t be fun to hurt it even more.”

He glances elsewhere and he then gives you a polite smile before sending you on your way. You see him walk in the direction of the boy and a girl, around your same age as they talked quietly.

You then flex your hand, seeing that your wrist was a bit smaller than your other one. You test out of your wrist, pretending to play a few notes as if you’re at a piano. You shake your head as you clutch it.

You wince a bit as you understood what Dr. Cullen meant. You then sigh a bit before pulling out your phone to let your parent know that you’re done and on your way home.

“You play?” you hear a voice. It startled you a bit but it was soothing.

You slowly look up. You see that the boy that Dr. Cullen seemed to know, was staring at you. He was by himself instead of with the girl you seen him with earlier, waiting for an answer. His gaze was intense, which made you look down for a moment as you nod.

“How do you know?” you ask quietly. You didn’t know why you felt shy.

“I saw you test your wrist out as if you were playing keys.” He says. You look up and he brings on a soft but friendly smile.

“Do..You play?” you ask.

You expected the same answer as always.

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows raise a little in shock.

“Why are you…Surprised?” he asks with a low chuckle.

“Sorry..It’s just…I don’t know too many people who do play.”

“Did you just move here?” he asks.

“Yeah..I’ve been asking people..To you know, make friends but…” you end it with a shrug.

He opens his mouth to say something but you hear a small voice close to you.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

You turn around to see a brunette, she’s hanging near the corner of the hallway. She staring dead at the boy you were talking to.

You turn back to the boy in front of you. He had a look that showed he was conflicted.

You make a small wave and started to be on your way. You didn’t look back.

“It was nice while it lasted.” you say in your head.

“So what did the doctor say?” your parent asks you.

“They said I have to wait up to a week to get back into using both hands.” you say over dinner.

“Well, that’s not bad. You catch on quick.”

“I know…You know I want to enter the music competition soon.”

That’s when they paused their chewing.

“You’re…Thinking about joining that?” they ask. You nod.

“Oh.” they comment.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s just….It’s your hobby and all but..For it to be your career…It’s very hard to make a profitable career out of that.”

“So..All of these years of classes and lessons are just going to be thrown away? Just like that?”

“I’m not saying that. Maybe it shouldn’t come first. You’ve always have gotten great grades. Y/N, it’s your final year before you go out into the real world. Picking a smart and lucrative career choice will help you be more prepared while being comfortable and stable.”

You sigh as you dig into your dinner. The same old talk.

“You start school tomorrow. Are you excited?” they ask with a smile. You mutter out a yes.

You lie in bed in the new home. After the divorce of your parents, you had to choose which one to stay with to finish out your year. The parent you chose, chose to move away for new beginnings. You didn’t mind. You were a bit happy that you got to start fresh in a way. You were a bit tired of your old school and wasn’t afraid of change.

The heat blasted from the vents of the car as you wrung your fingers a bit. A hand meets your hand.

“Easy, Y/N. Your wrist finally starting to heal up.”

“I know. Sorry.” you say and the school comes into view.

“I will be here when school lets out. Have a good first day.” they say with a big smile.

You get out after giving your parent a quick hug and you slowly walk towards the building.

You looked at your phone, checking the room number of where your home room was.

Chatters of different students meeting up with their friends were surrounding you and your ears.

Your eyes catch a familiar face. The same boy from the hospital, was leaning against his car. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you.

You continue walking however, you didn’t want to be overbearing.

You kept saying yes to people asking you if you were new. You were a bit tired of the question.

At lunch, people from classes that you did make small talk with, did ask you to sit with them.

When school was over, you walked out to the school lot. You saw the same boy from the hospital. This time, he made an effort to make a small wave. A small smile formed on your lips as you waved back.

“Y/N. Over here!” you hear and you internally groan with embarrassment.

“I know what your car looks like.” you say as you close the car door. They only laugh.

The next day, you walk to the school stairs, you slipped on the patch of ice.

A hand catches you and your heart race. You steady your knees and you look up to find the same boy.

“Thanks.” you say and he nods with a tight grin.

You start to walk away.

“You never told me your name.” he says.

“You never told me yours.” you reply back as you look back at him.

Names were then exchanged.

Edward was his name.

You both began to walk side to side.

“How long have you been playing?” he asks with interest.

“Since I gained consciousness.” you say with a small laugh. It was true. You don’t remember the first lessons, you just remember always having to go. His small laugh sounded a bit like bell chimes. It made you prolong your eye contact with him.

“What about you? You seem to be the expert.” you say.

“A very long time.”

“What’s a long time?” you playfully challenge.

You watch as his eyebrows furrow, as he continues to walk.

“What’s wrong…?” you ask slowly in slight confusion.

Shaking his head slightly, you both stop at the classroom you were supposed to go in, “Nothing…I would like to hear you play sometime.”

“Really? Well some time next week I should be good.” you say as you raise your wrists and you walk in the classroom. As you sat down, you realize that he was still standing at the same spot you left him in. It wasn’t until you were fully seated, you see him walk away.

A teacher asks you if you could take some paperwork to the office. You accept since your class work is completed.

You walk in the office and find that Edward is murmuring to the woman at the front desk.

“Here you go.” you say and Edward turns around. The woman thanks you and tells him with apologetic intentions, “It’s January, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Cullen.”

You watch as he has a wave of frustration be painted on his face.

You held the door open for him as you exit out.

“Cullen…So, your dad is Dr. Cullen?” you observe and ask.

“Yes.” he answered. You both walk as if there isn’t a rush to get to anywhere.

“He’s nice.” you comment.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard that.” he says.

“So..The blonde girl is your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my sister.”

“Oh. Sorry.” you say sheepishly.

“It’s alright.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s heard that.” he says with a grin that makes you return it.

“So…How many siblings do you have?”

“Two brothers and two sisters.”

“Eventful.” you say and enter back into the classroom.

“How was school?” your parent asks you over dinner.

“It was fine.”

“Any new friends?”

“A couple. The people and the teachers there are nice.” you say as you look at your food.

“That’s good.”

“I didn’t know Dr. Cullen’s son went to this high school.”

“You met him?”

“Yeah. He’s nice too.” you say.

“The entire family keeps to themselves I heard.”

You nod at that.

You were in the middle of reading a book.

“No class this period?”

You look up and Edward is peering down at you as you sat in a chair in the school library, being immersed in the plot.

“Study hall.” you say.

He nods.

“What about you?”

“Free period.” he says as he sits in a seat that’s close to yours.

“Oh.” you say and close your book.

You look at him. “You know, I meant to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as he searched your face.

“You have unique eyes. Is it some type of…Condition or something?”

“….I guess you can say that….Yeah..It’s a condition.”

“Oh. Do you want to dive into that?” you ask.

“I prefer not. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me.”

“How did you mess up your wrist?”

You chuckle a bit before answering.

“Trampoline.”

It was his turn to match your chuckle.

“That’s interesting.”

“Yeah well…That’s what happened over the summer. Man, I was pissed. I was crying, not because of the pain, but because I couldn’t use both hands to play piano.” you say.

“Did you still use one hand?”

“Yeah. It’s boring though.” you say with a slight frown.

“Which wrist?”

You extend it.

“This one.”

You didn’t expect him to close his hand around it. His hands were cold, but it felt nice, like an ice pack. You’ve been using it to exercise it, so the cool sensation helped. In sync, you both lean in.

“Are you used to the cold? And snow?”

“Yeah. You?” you ask.

“Yeah. It’s my favorite time of the year.”

“Same. No annoying bugs.” you answer back.

He grins as he looked down at your wrist.

“Have you ever broken or sprained a bone before?” you ask.

“No.” he says.

“Aren’t you lucky.” you comment.

“I am.” he says and the bell rings.

You walk the halls to lunch, you find that the brunette girl from the hospital also went to the same school.

She looked at you only for a second before looking away.

In history, the teacher announced a project. You all had to pick a time period out of a bin, write in a journal and pretend to be someone who is living in the time period.

“Fun.” you said under your breath, you thought it was interesting.

A small journal was passed out, the teacher allowed you and others to work in groups if you wanted.

You started writing down your year in your journal.

“Are you working with someone?”

You look up to a familiar boy in the class. He was quiet, but sat in the back from the times you’ve been in this class.

You shake your head.

“Do you mind if we work together?”

“I don’t mind.” you say in a small voice.

As he sat down, he scoots his chair a bit away from you, but his presence was friendly enough that you didn’t feel offended, you felt a wave of calmness, you didn’t feel nervous like you thought you would be.

Smiling softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak in class.” you say.

He shrugged with his own quiet smile.

“What year did you get?” you ask.

“The 1980’s.” he says with a roll of his eyes, “What about you?”

“1860’s.” you say sharing your distaste for the year you had to do, with a roll of your own eyes. You quickly saw a sparkle in his eye.

“What? You think this time period was interesting?” you ask. He nods a bit.

“So much history happened within that time frame.” he said with certainty.

“At least the 80’s were fun. Big hair, good music, and colorful vibes.” you say as you thought of music videos.

“It was alright.” he says but clears his throat, “I’m a bit old fashioned. I don’t really care to learn much about that time period but it looks like I have to.”

“Yeah.” you say as you look at him.

“So. Have any trouble?” he asks.

“The heck did people do for fun back then?” you say. You wanted to snooze.

“Play games, read, gamble on horse races.” he lists.

“How do you know so much?” you ask as you doodle spirals on the edge of your paper to kill time.

“I guess you can say I’m a history geek.”

You laugh a little, “What’s your name?”

Jasper.

As the bell rang to leave, “Pray for me. Hopefully I won’t fall asleep while writing.” you say jokingly.

A small laugh escaped his throat, “You will be fine…You can always ask me questions..”

“Cool. See you…Around?”

He nods once as a small and petite girl skips to his side. She brightly shined her sparkling smile at you.

“Hi.” she greets.

You wave.

“You’re new right?”

You nod.

“When did you move here?”

“A little last week.” you answer. She grins as she nods in acknowledgment. Her energy was high. You felt it was a bit contagious as you couldn’t help feel the excitement rubbing off on you.

“Do you like it here?” she asks as you walk. She hugged Jasper’s arm as you all walk the hallway.

“It’s been good to me so far.” you say.

You all three talk as you made your way to your last class of the day. Learning the girl’s name you tell her, “Nice to meet you again Alice. See you, Jasper.”

Coming out to the school lot, you see that the rest of Edward’s family is looking at you by their cars.

You then knew who Edward’s siblings were. All expect one. He was muscular and he held the blonde girl close to him.

You felt a bit nervous.

It was the weekend. You were thankful that you got to sleep in.

Pulling out your keyboard, you fiddle with it with your one hand.

You were bored. You missed trying to learn complex notes but you knew that if you forced the fast recovery, you wouldn’t be better.

You scrolled through the website of the music competition. You knew exactly what song you wanted to play. You had to submit a recording.

You didn’t care about the prize money, but just to show off your talents was something that you wanted to do.

The weeks rolled by, you could finally play again. You parent comes home and that’s all they hear, the tinkering of the keyboard and the piano that was in the home.

“When’s your lesson?” they ask as you help them unload groceries.

“Next week. I’ve been practicing.” you say with a grin.

“That’s nice. Fill out for colleges yet?”

That’s when you got quiet.

“Y/N.” they say in a warning tone.

“I’m working on it. I just don’t know what I want to do yet.” you say.

“You were always good with tech. Maybe, do something with math. It’s your highest grade.”

“Ugh, no. I only make sure it’s my highest because it’s important.” you say. They only sigh with a slight shake of their head as they state, “Your time is ticking.”

In lab, you sighed as you mixed substances with your lab partner.

“You’re joining this class?” you heard your teacher ask.

You look up and you almost took your goggles off. Edward looks at you as you looked at him.

“Y/N, you have to weigh it.” your lab partner beside you, tells you, the pen is in their hand and ready to write down the information on the worksheet.

“Right. Sorry.” you say and weigh the concoction in the glass measuring cup.

You watch him join a group, making him the third person.

When class was over, “You’re in this class?” you ask, trying your best to hold your excitement. He was a year below you. You didn’t know why you were excited. You brushed it off as it being happy to see a familiar face.

“Yeah.” he says casually.

“Willingly?” you ask and he nods.

“Jeez, no offense but, do you enjoy suffering?” you ask. You hated that class. Especially lab days. You were glad that the next day was a study hall instead of a double period.

He laughs, “It’s not that bad. I enjoy science.”

You both enter the hall and you place your hands together, “Be my guardian angel?”

“Next report period when it’s time to pick partners, just pick me. You’ll get an easy A.” he says with a slight shrug.

Jasper suggested that you both take turns reading each other’s journals. The due date was the next day.

He did a good job. It made you want to live in the 80’s. For Jasper, it was as if he went through a time machine.

You slide each other your journals back.

“Man, what a ride. I would’ve thought you lived it.” you say. You didn’t miss the flash of happiness. He then makes his face neutral.

“I can say the same.” he says, almost looking proud at your journal.

“I thought you weren’t interested in that time frame?” he continued to ask as if he caught your hand in the cookie jar. You shrug with a smile.

“I’m not. But, you gotta do what you gotta do right?” you reply as gesture the classroom.

He nods at that.

Before you could push the door open to leave the school building, you heard, “Do you have a ride?”

You turn to see Alice.

“Oh, hey. Um…I do.” you say.

She seemed a bit disappointed.

“Well, tomorrow we have a two hour delay. We should come to school together.” she suggests as she picks her mood back up.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “How do you-”

The announcement came on, “A two hour delay is issued for Forks High School, tomorrow morning. Students don’t forget to….”

“Lucky guess. You should be gambler or something.” you say. She laughs a perfect laugh and links her arm with yours follows you outside.

“So, what do you say? I’ll get you breakfast.” she bribed.

“Oh wow, food? How could I say no?” you ask with a smile.

You still woke up at your usual time, you watched the snowflakes fall fast out of your window. You used the extra time to work the keyboard in your room with your headphones in. Your parent knows you have a way to school, they tell you to let them know if you need a ride back home.

You carefully walk down the steps. Edward leans against the car. You had to be careful with your steps as you observed the snowflakes that fell perfectly on him. You look away to not seem rude or weird. He closes the car door after you get in. Jasper and Alice is in the backseat.

“He was just standing out there like it isn’t freezing.” you say to them and they laugh as they looked at each other.

“I told you, it’s my favorite time of the year.” he says with a grin as he worked the steering wheel.

“You’re crazy, Edward.” you comments as you put your hands to the vents that blew out hot air.

“I know.” you heard him say.

People stared as you got out of the car. You didn’t know why. Your stomach was full from the breakfast that was in fact paid for by Alice. You had to fight with her to not be so sharing but she prevailed, saying she was keeping her promise.

“Uh.. Why are people staring?” you whispered to Edward as he walked close to you. Jasper had his arm around Alice.

“They just want to know how and why you’re around us.” he says with a lax expression.

Walking through the metal detectors and picking your bag back up.

“How do you know?” you ask.

“We stay to ourselves. Never felt the need to make new friends.” he explains as Jasper and Alice waved goodbye to you both.

After waving, you turn your head as you walk, “So, I’m the chosen one?” you say with a joking tone.

“That’s..One way to put it.” he says.

“So, answer their question. Why me?” you ask as you stop at your locker, placing your wet coat inside.

He leans next to the locker that’s beside you, “You don’t want friends?”

“Whatever.” you say with a light laugh, “If I don’t recall, you talked to me first.”

“I did?” he asks but you knew that he knew.

You shoot him a look.

“I still want to hear you play. It’s been more than a week.” he says.

With a slight smile as you look ahead of you as you walk, “You’ve been keeping count?”

“Call me excited. I want to see what you got.”

“Cool, I’ll send you a video when I get the chance.” you say and try to go into the classroom but a hand gently grasp your sweater covered arm. You look to him.

“In person.”

“Oh….Okay.” you say and you hesitantly walk in your classroom.

Your mind was on the thought of playing piano in front of Edward. You wondered how. Would he come over to your house? Would you go over his house? You immediately shook the thought out of your head. He already told you that him and his siblings really don’t bring people around them. But, you couldn’t help but wonder in your brain, “I wonder what made me the exception?”

“Y/N?”

You snap out of your thoughts. You clear your throat as the teacher and classroom was silent, waiting for your answer.

You look down on your worksheet and speak out an answer.

“Very good.” the teacher says and moves on.

Your class took notes in science, it didn’t help that you could see Edward from across the room. You didn’t know how it was possible for one to be so non sociable.

You sat sideways on the comfy library chair. It was in the back, the history section.

“Wait…You said you had two sisters. Who’s the brunette?” you ask in a bored tone, fidgeting idly with the book on one of the shelves.

“Bella Swan. She’s not related to us.”

“Oh. Your friend.”

Chuckling as he looked at his hands, “She’s not my friend.”

You look about. He watches you.

You sit up straighter, feeling slightly nervous under his gaze, “Something’s fishy.”

“What do you mean?” he asks in a stoic tone.

“Are you….” you sigh. He’s patient. You look down before looking up, “Are you and your siblings like….Blood related?”

He opens his mouth but you speak, “Sorry. That was rude. Damn.” you say.

“We are not.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you want to ask something else?”

“Is it obvious?” you ask and he nods.

“Well….” you say and look at him in the eye before looking at his fabric covered chest, “Are you all…Adopted?”

“Yes.”

You look at him.

“So….” you sigh and shake your head and he asks, “What?”

You sigh a bit before giving him a nervous smile, “I see how Alice and Jasper act towards….Each other…I’m not judging but…”

“Yes. They’re dating.”

“Oh.” you say as you swallow and grab a book off of instinct.

“Are you weirded out?” he asks. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. He simply asked.

You open and close it as you look down. “Yeah.”

“Many are.”

“Like I said, who am I to be someone’s judge?” you propose.

He doesn’t say anything after that.

At lunch, you chewed slowly. You looked up a couple of times at Jasper’s table. The blonde girl and the brawny boy who was their brother. They all three glanced your way and you felt small in a way. But, you look back to what the person next to you at the table was saying.

You wondered if the other brother played a sport, but he didn’t hang out with the guys who were on actual teams.

The history teacher turns on a movie and makes everyone write down answers for the worksheet.

You were thankful for the distraction.

Pulling your coat out, you hear your name.

You turn around, to find Edward standing there.

You look.

“Do you have any plans after school?”

You rack your brain, but it’s been such a relaxed day, that homework was done.

“Um…” you say and you immediately think of your keyboard that you left on your bed.

“Honestly I’m just trying to get home and relax.”

He blinked at your answer.

Alice then bounces in your view.

“Hey, you.” she says with a smile.

“Oh. Hey. Thanks so much for this morning. That really meant a lot.” you say.

She touched your arm with a grin.

“Come on, ride back with us.” she persuades.

“Oh…”

“We have a piano at our house.” she says.

“You did that on purpose.” you say with a small laugh as you close your locker and start to walk.

“What?” she asks.

“I wanted to go home and relax and here you are bribing me once again.” you say.

At your side, “Carlisle says that your wrists are way better.” Alice chirped.

“Who’s that?” you ask dripping in confusion.

“Sorry..Our father.”

You never thought to call your parent by their first name like that. But you still didn’t judge.

“Oh. Yeah. I’m just using my keyboard for right now.” you say as you walk out the school doors.

“Well.. Our piano is huge. You should see it. Maybe play for us.” she says as you walk down the school stairs.

“Hmm…” you say with dramatic sarcasm.

“Please?” she dragged on.

“You guys act like I’m a special composer or something.” you say as you look at both Alice and Edward.

“We’re parked over here.” Alice grabs your hand.

On a doctor’s salary, there was just no way. You subtly peered around the home.

The parents. They looked so vibrant. So youthful. Dr. Cullen almost shined as he stood next to his smiling wife.

“Hi, Dr. Cullen.” you say.

Esme was the mother’s name.

“I like your name.” you compliment. She seemed touched and complimented yours back.

“Carlisle is okay. I already know who you are Y/N.” he says in a friendly tone.

Shrugging your coat off, it’s taken out of your hands as Edward placed a hand on your shoulder.

You saw it. You silently let your jaw drop. You walk out from under Edward’s hand.

It sat tall and strong. It was grand. It was shiny as if it was newly purchased. You thought you were dreaming. You could almost hear it whispering your name.

“Oh my gosh.” you whisper.

“What is it?” You hear Esme ask.

“This piano….Do you mind if I-“

“Of course. Yes. Please do.” she says, almost excited as you.

You sit at the bench.

Edward was immediately near you and if you weren’t so distracted, you would’ve wondered how he had gotten there so fast.

With a smile that made your cheeks sore, your fingers pressed down on the keys with precision. Your foot tapped the pedal as music filled the living room. You stop your tiny concert short as you felt that you were overstaying your company.

“Why did you stop?” you collectively heard.

“Sorry..I didn’t know..” you say and you rise from the bench, feeling a bit sheepish from the attention.

The blonde that had her arms crossed looked at the area you were in, with slight interest. She reminded you of an ice queen.

“So. Whats the new rank?” the boy who was brawny spoke up. His voice was deep and displayed a smirk.

The blonde taps the back of her hand onto his chest with a clenched jaw. He looked at her with slight apologetics.

Edward chuckled next to you.

Emmett.

You knew off of the top, he knew how to liven up a room.

“Rank of what?” you ask.

“Nothing. Ignore him.” the blonde says snappily.

Rosalie.

Emmett and Rosalie reminded you of Jasper and Alice in a way. You didn’t want to ask questions, but you couldn’t stop the questions from coming inside of your brain.

“You’re talented.” Esme says to you without drawing attention.

You show sincere appreciation.

You held and read his music sheets as you sat on his couch. His room was spacious. He invited you up as he could tell you weren’t going to touch the piano anymore.

Edward let you take the lead in the conversation. Allowing you to talk about yourself and what you want to do passionately.

“A competition?” he asks with interest. You only nod as you sat his sheets down.

“So. When am I going to see you play?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment before peering at the floor for a moment.

“Soon.”

“I’m keeping you to your word.” you say.

“Please do.”

[martiae]

from me to you | pepe martí

“all of the girls you’ve loved before, made you the one i’ve fallen for” ♡ (inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before!)

synopsis: you’ve been in love with your childhood best friend since you were 6. when you were 13, you decided to start writing love letters to him. you never planned on sending them but they somehow made their way to his house?

pairing: pepe marti x reader (y/n) adler | genre: highschool au, smau, fluff, slight angst | warnings: some cursing, suggestive jokes from christian (haha), gianna/gigi is an oc, y/n is kind of irritating because she assumes a lot !!

chapter 1 : ignorance is bliss

now playing : i think he knows — taylor swift

you waited at the bus stop a few blocks from your house, your mind totally occupied by the mortifying events that happened yesterday.

while you didn’t want to think about it at all, it was hard not to. your mind was constantly playing the moment back.

you wondered how much he read, how he felt when he read it, what his face looked like, his thoughts, etc.

but, a part of you also really did not want know. your heart was sadly fragile, super sensitive to anything relating to pepe.

you knew it was stupid; but, you really thought that you could just peacefully like him. you were waiting for your feelings to just go away, a confession seeming out of reach.

you had to get a grip, you needed to figure out how to go about this whole situation since you knew that he would most likely not drop it.

the bus began to approach the stop, a part of you feeling happy that you had some more time to put together a plan for today.

you sat down at the window seat, the seat feeling very comfortable, yet, undeniably cold.

it was nice though. you finally had some peace and quiet, and could focus on what was important.

that focus broke quickly when a familiar figure sat next to you, their head instantly looking at you.

“hi there”

you wanted to scream. no, you actually wanted to get off the bus and run back home. your plans of peace, tranquility, and happiness was totally interrupted by the guy.

your eyes widened, your mouth parting in a surprised expression. your guys eye contact and silence existing for a long time.

“you’re still not talking to me?” pepe asked, his eyebrow quirking up.

you stayed silent, trying to disassociate from the fact that the boy you’ve been in love with for 11 years is trying to talk to you after finding out you like him.

pepe smiled to himself as he looked down, a small chuckle coming from his mouth. your heart skipped a beat, his stupidly cute smile has always had some kind of effect on you. and you know very well that you probably wrote some very cringey (but true) things about it in your letters.

oh god, just thinking about him reading your bare emotions and feelings about him has you feeling like laying out on the road. this was torture!

pepe looked back at you, his smile not leaving his face yet. you returned back to looking in front of you, the bus coming to a sudden halt.

the force made you lean forward; but, pepe quickly put his palm in front of you and his other hand holding onto your shoulder.

you leaned back, looking at him in surprise.

he chuckled, “didn’t want you hitting your head on the chair..”

your face became slightly flushed, a very soft expression on your face, “thank you”

pepe smiled again, his hand letting go of you and returning to his lap.

“are you going to explain the letters now?”

you tried to not show your shock; but, it appeared on your face before you could control it.

you were praying for the bus to drive faster, you just wanted to go to school and avoid him at every opportunity. its hard to ignore him over text. but, it’s even harder to ignore him in person.

“one more stop” you chanted in your head.

pepe sighed with frustration, “come on..anything? as i said im not mad at all! i just really want an explanation or something! please give me something to grasp!”

you saw the bus begin to pull towards your school, your face relaxing.

“please? something?..” he explained.

the bus stopped, the door’s opening quickly. you looked at him before murmuring a small “bye” and speed walking towards the exit.

you could hear pepe calling your name from behind but decided to sprint to the campus, your adrenaline running.

that was the worst 7 minutes and 34 seconds of your life. (yes you were counting.)

pepe was a guy who was sweet, calm but also expressive, and passionate. he was strong willed and smart and honestly, perfect. he was the guy who every girl has had a crush on before, the guy who would be the best boyfriend and would never fail to impress your family, and just be the guy you’d plan on marrying.

he was all of those things. scratch that, he is all of those things. but because he’s all of those things, you know that it couldn’t work out.

“oh my god, i tried catching up to you but you were running for your life!” gianna said out of breath.

you were panting, still recovering from your very quick run to your class.

“he….was…at….the…bus…stop.” you let out with many breaths.

gianna’s face lit up in shock and excitement, her hands covering her mouth.

“no way! spill now!”

you went the whole school day on guard, observing carefully to not run into pepe. it was kind of pathetic, even you could admit it. you were practically on edge and running away from him because you knew that it was getting harder and harder to face him. you did not want to confess, hell, you didn’t want to do anything. you wished you could reverse time and stop your 13 year old self from beginning the disturbing trend of writing sappy love letters addressed to him.

gosh, this whole situation really made you feel insane! it was hard to just let it pass without feeling the pain of embarrassment.

“(name)!” gianna called.

“oh hey gigi!” you smiled.

“hey! any updates?”

you sighed before looking her in the eye, “i’ve been avoiding him all day.”

gianna groaned, “oh come on! you can’t ignore him forever!”

“i don’t want to ignore him. it’s getting really hard to do that. i just, gosh, i really just don’t know what to do.”

“i get it. but i also don’t. what are you so afraid of?” gianna questioned.

you wanted to say ‘everything’. it was true. you were scared of hearing his voice tell you that he didn’t feel the same, his reaction when you tell him it’s true, oh god, it seriously was the most embarrassing thing in the world.

“i’m afraid of the truth. i really wanted to hold onto my crush and just peacefully love him.”

gianna frowned before turning to stand in front of you, both of you guys stopping.

“the truth may be scary. you may expect him to not feel the same; but anything’s possible. while i know how crazy those letters are, trust me, i can say for sure that you shouldn’t ignore him anymore. he deserves an explanation.”

gianna was right, and she knew she was too.

with a sigh, you nodded.

to face him after this all is like opening mary poppin’s bag. there’s no certainty at all, and you knew that it was going to be so uncomfortable.

gianna’s eyes began to drift to behind you, your natural instinct telling you to look.

you turned to see pepe standing behind you, a shy expression reflecting on his face.

“good luck!” gianna cheered before walking out the gate.

“gigi!” you shouted.

she began to skip happily, an obvious taunt to your calling.

“gianna!”

you turned around to look back at pepe, who’s hand was touching his neck shyly.

oh god. you were done for. you could tell that he was annoyed, or maybe angry? fear began to make an appearance on your face, your body staying frozen.

“can we talk now?”

[chameleon66]

Ticklish tornado; An epic battle

Author’s note: About a week ago I got asked to write a tickle fanfic for Pomni and Jax and I have to say I had a blast writing this. I never really thought much about Pomni before but writing this helped me get to know her better (and of course I had fun writing Jax) So if any of you reading have a suggestion for a tickle fic for any characters from Sanders sides, Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel, Murder Drones, or The Amazing Digital Circus then please send in your ideas and I may write them (Won’t promise anything though). Also this can be read as romantic or platonic. With that being said, enjoy your reading.

Word count: 2535

Warnings: Tickling, Teasing, Mild touch aversion, Anxiety, Negative spiraling, Jax being a mischievous little bunny, angst, (Let me mknow if I need to add anything)

How many adventures must one go on to get used to this wacky place? Pomni thought as she walked through the portal Caine had opened up for them to go back into the circus tent.

It had been another crazy adventure of surprises, traumatic events, and trombones, and Pomni was feeling the drain from it. Not only did she feel exhausted but she also felt her anxiety racing in each of her fast heartbeats and rapid breathing, each movement around her felt like an abrupt explosion with her brain feeding her thoughts that did the opposite of soothing her troubles.

Will I ever get to leave this place? Does my family know I’m gone? Does anyone in the world miss me? How long has it been since I put on this headset? The digital world became increasingly drowned out to Pomni as her anxious thoughts began to snowball.

She was acutely aware of everyone sitting down in the couch area with her muscle memory being the only thing to pull her to sit down on a couch alone, away from everyone else. Whatever they were talking about was a distant murmur.

Her chest felt tight, her vision felt hazy, and her stomach felt like it was trying to digest itself. Pomni was indeed spiraling and like with most cases she didn’t know how to bring herself back.

Time passed, or maybe it didn’t? Pomni couldn’t be sure anymore. When the snap of fingers in front of her face seemed to pull her out of her spiraling thoughts and suddenly she was back on the couch with a close up of Jax’s face jumpscaring her.

“Ahhh!” Pomni screamed quietly as she flinched back.

“Oh good, you’re still alive.” Jax stated assured, while moving out of Pomni’s face and behind the couch.

Pomni then watched him walk behind the couch then lean both of his arms down then rested his head on them all while looking at her.

“How long have I been sitting here?” Pomni asked.

“If I had to guess~.” Jax dragged out the last word as he looked skyward in consideration of his answer. “About four hours.” He shrugged.

Pomni only sighed, even if Jax had been there far longer than her, how could she trust his ability to keep track of time?

“Everyone else checked in for the night.” Jax clarified, tha mean’t it was only her and Jax here.

“So~ something on your mind or is staring out into space with your eyes going on all scribbly scrabbly just a new hobby of yours?” Jax titled his head at Pomni waiting for her answer.

Pomni hesitated, her and Jax had never been close, in fact no one was close with Jax. Mostly because he bullied everyone and just generally made everyone feel uncomfortable.

Though he had seemed pretty nice back at Spudsy’s when he got back from…wherever Gangle had sent him off to and they had a short exchange, where he didn’t even try to joke or make fun of Pomni, so maybe part of him wasn’t all that bad.

“It’s just been…a lot, lately.” Pomni’s voice dropped in volume while talking just out of habit but Jax seemed to have no problem understanding.

“How so?” Jax pushed further. Pomni supposed if Jax got mean she could just ditch him and hide away in her room.

“Just - the idea of being here forever and missing out on everything life has to offer, you know.” Pomni wrapped her arms around herself before continuing.

“My whole life was just taken from me, I’ll never see my family again, I won’t ever die because that’s impossible here! But at the same time I won’t ever get to live because I’m trapped here for eternity! OR AT LEAST UNTIL I COMPLETELY LOSE IT AND ABSTRACT, THEN I’LL BE THROWN INTO THE CELLAR TO BE FORGOTTEN ABOUT BY EVERYONE-.”

“Pomni!” Jax yelled, stopping Pomni’s ranting. “Ok short stuff, I want you to take a deep breath.”

Pomni didn’t realize until then how audibly she had been hyperventilating so she did as told and inhaled as much air into her as she could then holding it.

“Now let it out. Slowly.” Jax instructed and Pomni did so, they repeated the process five more times before Pomni felt remarkably better and Jax saw the change too as the next thing he asked was. “Feel better?”

Though Pomni still felt heavy with worry she hummed with a nod giving Jax the answer he wanted.

“Good. Now I know it’s easier said than done here but try to relax. You don’t have to worry about a problem that doesn’t exist yet.” Jax hopped over the back of the couch and laid back beside Pomni sighed as he sunk back into the cushions.

Pomni fiddled with her gloves and her body refused to comply with the idea of relaxing as her muscles were still tensed and brain kept trying to throw her back into her anxious spiral despite her best efforts to think about something else.

“You’re not relaxing.” Jax cracked open one eye to look at Pomni who was visibly not relaxed with her tensed posture, leg bouncing under her, and her eyes fixated on her gloves.

“Ugh! I can’t help it, how can I possibly relax in this f#%king place!” Pomni exclaimed to the empty circus tent.

Jax had to admit she had a point, relaxation was a skill one had to master after coming into the circus and there was really no such thing as being completely relaxed, but if anyone needed to learn how to it was the chronically anxious and traumatized jester girl.

“Do you need some help?” Jax asked only to get a suspicious side eye from the jester in return.

“What are you gonna do?” Pomni asked back clearly, not sure of any idea Jax had.

“Oh chill Jingle bells. I’m not gonna try anything, I just wanna help out a friend. It's so hard to believe.”

“Yes.” Pomni said flatly.

“Fair enough, but this time I swear I just wanna help.” Jax smiled at her. This had a bad idea written all over it but Pomni decided that if Jax really was just gonna prank her or something then at least it'd take her mind off everything.”

“Fine, but don’t even think about trying anything.” She warned the rabbit.

“Alrighty then.” Jax stood up from the couch and went back behind it, leaving Pomni’s line of sight. She felt a little uneasy about this but tried to keep her mind calm.

Pomni then felt the pressure of two hands on her shoulders, her initial reaction was to flinch at the contact then immediately feel her skin prickle under her jester outfit.

She was close to asking Jax to stop whatever he was doing but then he started rubbing his fingers into her muscles and immediately Pomni eased up. While physical contact was something she had a love hate relationship with she was enjoying the pressure and warmth of Jax’s hands on her shoulders rubbing slow gentle circles with each of his fingers.

She could feel Jax smirk behind her as he continued rubbing her shoulders but she didn’t find it in herself to care, right then she tried to focus on the good things because that’s what had worked for her so far, holding onto the good things she remembered and from in the circus.

Reassurance from Ragatha, games of chess with Kinger, the pretty stars at night in the sky, no longer having to deal with–

A sudden shock moved through her nervous system as she felt a squeak involuntarily come from her mouth.

Her hand flew to cover her mouth as her tension suddenly returned with a bite. She realized that Jax’s hands were no longer on her shoulders but near her mid back around her ribs, he had probably just brushed against them but it was enough to create a ticklish sensation.

“Pom pom?” Jax hummed. He knew it, the jig was up.

“Yes?” Pomni answered back in the most hesitant way known to this digital world.

“Did I just hear you squeal like a little chubby piglet?” Jax’s grin was a mile wide, he knew what he heard, but he’d never give up the chance to fluster someone.

“Umm…” Pomni stuttered but lying would do her no good in this situation. “Yeah…”

“Don't tell me you’re ticklish~.” Jax was now wiggling his fingers at Pomni only succeeding to make her even more unnerved.

Pomni was stuck and no words were coming out of her mouth to try and defend herself against the claim.

“I’m not hearing a ‘No’.” Jax’s hand went back into Pomni’s ribs though she did see how he left the window open for her to push him away if she didn’t want it.

But once the first notes of Laughter rang through Pomni’s body she let her body go limp. She hadn’t thought about it but it had been so long since she had truly laughed. She recalled how laughing supposedly released hormones that make you happier.

She wasn’t exactly too sure how biology applied to the digital circus as biology and technology were two very far apart subjects but she certainly felt a little lighter than before.

“Aww! Look at the cure face you’re making.” Jax cooed at her. She was trying to squirm away out of instinct but Jax took the chance to jump over the back of the couch and over her to keep up the tickles.

Pomni’s face was now significantly red even though she hadn’t been holding her breath. The tickling sensation over her body was at the same time too much and too little in some paradoxical way.

“Jahahahahahahaxx, you M@H@H@Th$$RF###%%%R!” Pomni’s laughter even though the profanity censor was still present which only encouraged Jax to rile her up.

“Pom pom, how come you’ve never told anyone you’re ticklish?” Jax’s eyes were completely trained on her and her reactions to each spot, boy he loved getting reactions out of the others.

“Quhuhuhuhit teheheheheheheheheasing meHHEHEHEHE.” Midway through her sentence Jax‘s hand got in her armpit which caused her laughter to intensify greatly and she found herself getting a little overwhelmed by the stimuli.

“But you’re so much fun to tease.” Jax made a pouty face at her but then his signature grin reappeared as he focused one hand to tickling her ribs while the other tickled her armpit.

It was quite odd how not much effort behind the tickles was needed on his part. Seemed Pomni was quite sensitive to light stuff.

If her memory didn’t lie her pits were always a bad spot for her and she didn’t know how much longer she could take it there. Then she got a devious idea.

Pomni realized nothing was stopping her from fighting back. In fact Jax hadn’t even pinned her arms and hands down anywhere, he had just let them try and deter his hands from their tickle assault. Huge oversight on his part, as he would soon learn.

Through her laughter Pomni found it in her to reach out fast as a bullet and latch onto Jax’s waist and gave it multiple squeezes.

Jax let out a squeal of his own as his body went limp like a noodle overtop of Pomni. She turned the tables on him as she pushed him back into the couch and scratched much more ruthlessly at the front of his overalls

She took the chance and went for his stomach which earned her a stream of non stop chuckles.

“F$$$$%%%%K Pohahahahahahm Poahahahahaham! Nohohohohohohoho!” Jax’s attack on Pomni had been put on halt as his hands now tried to grab hers. His smile now miles wider.

“Aww~ Is the big tough bunny too sensitive to take what he gives?” Pomni put on her baby talk which only succeeded in making Jax’s laugh even more squeaky. He sounded like he was an actual rabbit who was getting loved on. It was just as adorable as it was hilarious.

She was frankly amazed that he hadn’t thrown her off him yet since he was like twice her height and she weighed about as much as a baby kitten according to Caine

Feeling eager to experiment with her new found power over Jax, Pomni went up to his ears and stuck one finger into one of them and began to swirl it around. Jax lost it.

His laugh grew ever more sporadic and uncontrolled and he began kicking his feet too. Though it seemed his ears provoked the same reaction within him as Pomni because he went on to go right back into Pomni’s ribs while Pomni Hands clung onto his ears continuing her retaliation.

They continued going back and forth for a while after that with each of them taking turns pushing the other one back into the couch and gaining the upper hand from them. They couldn’t even tease each other through their shared laughter.

At one point they had both even fallen off the couch and were both just on a floor still laughing like they were high on helium. After a couple minutes both of them were now just laying on the floor together giggling and smiling.

After everything went quiet for a few seconds when Jax spoke up. “So, that make you feel any better?”

Pomni sighed “Yeah, it- it did. Thank you Jax.”

“Yeah, yeah don’t get all mushy on me Jester. Just do me a favor and don’t tell the others about this, I don’t need them thinking I’ve grown soft.” Jax shook his head.

“Aww~ Does that mean you’re going soft for me?” Pomni broke out her baby talk voice again seeing how much it embarrassed Jax before.

“Hah!” Jax huffed out a fake laugh as he flicked one of the bells in Pomni’s hat. “In your dreams Jingle bells.”

Oddly enough Pomni laughed too.

Both of them said their goodnights and went back to their respective rooms both oblivious to the four sets of eyes that were secretly watching them from around the corner.

Ragatha felt like her heart was about to burst at the two’s cuteness, Gangle was scribbling down notes for her next tickle fanfic for her OCs, Zooble was smirking on the inside they planned to use Jax’s weakness against him the next time he tried to steal their limbs. Meanwhile Kinger was facing away from the group staring off into the hallway wondering what they were all looking at.

[lunastryinc]

Hellooooo lovebugs! It's time for another mini-trip brought to you by Lunastry Inc. This month, pack your bags and get ready for a long weekend trip in Las Vegas! From January 17th to January 20th, the company has booked you all suites at the luxurious Bellagio hotel and resort. There's no itinerary for this trip, but anything you see listed on their website is fair game- including the world renowned Cirque Du Soleil's newest show, "O".

But don't just limit yourself to the premises. During this trip, we encourage you to go out and explore everything Las Vegas has to offer. Whether it's hitting up the casinos, walking the strip, or taking a slight detour to see the Neon Museum, we're sure you guys will be able to keep yourselves entertained all weekend long.

More information on how to sign up for the trip is listed below the cut. Our legal department has requested that we stress the importance of reading the fine print*, so be sure to give everything a throughout review before signing your name on the dotted line.

See you in vegas, babes!

*Lunastry Inc will provide teleportation services to and from the city and will handle all hotel arrangements. Lunastry Inc will not be posting anyone's bail, covering any hospital bills or Elvis-impersonator-led wedding fees, and can not be held legally responsible for any curses contracted during the trip.

{We've been teasing it but it's finally here- another curse event! The curse event is entirely optional. All characters who choose to participate will undergo a species swap curse- we think it's pretty self explanatory, but if you sign up, you will be swapping species with another character, determined at random by the mod team. On the final day of the trip, January 20th, we will send out asks to the participants informing everyone of who their curse buddy is.

The curse will last from January 20th to the end of the month. An announcement will be made on Feburary 1st once the curse has been lifted letting you all know that the event has ended.

Any character can attend the Las Vegas event- sign-ups will not be required for general attendance. However, we will be making a sign-up post for the curse aspect of the event and will be posting that shortly. The curse event post must be liked before midnight on January 15th if you wish to participate. This gives the mod team time to randomly assign curse partners and make sure everything is ready for the start of the curse event.

As always, if you have any questions, you can send us an ask, slide into our dms, or message us directly on chats @ lunaincmods x}

[ask-dress-up-galaco]

g: And from here we can see if anyone else comes, too!

[gyuswhore]

Sit Down

anniversary event [closed]

kim mingyu x reader

prompt(s): getting aroused by the other's jealousy/obsession with them, "Could he/she/they do it like this?”, “you're sexy when you're angry”

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (MINORS DNI), fluff, potter!mingyu, they're married, reader discovers jealousy, oral (m.rec), penetration (unprotected!!!), kissing, breast play, clit stimulation, they're nasty as hell idk what to tell you

synopsis: It isn't your fault that you feel this way, especially as you watch her hands trace over your husband's own.

It isn't your fault that you can barely go on with your day with that cursed image replaying in your mind like a broken record.

And it certainly isn't your fault that you find yourself completely naked on your husband's lap while his clay-clad hands cannot touch you.

[a/n]: @highvern at the scene of the crime as always, we all have to thank her for her service as she betas for me and encourages my tomfoolery. enjoy this and let me know your thoughts in the rbs, comments or send me an ask!!!!!

masterlist

The grip you have on the file is proving to be detrimental to the cheap plastic covering. Not that you could blame yourself as you watch your husband through the window of his pottery studio, leaning over to help a student with her discombobulated salad bowl. 

It was a beautiful morning, the beach across from the boardwalk sparingly occupied with delighted tanners and swimmers, the low buzz of waves reaching the shore sending a calming draft across the area. Envious as you were of Mingyu and his impeccable real estate choices, especially right now as your heel clad feet ache to take a dip in the waters, you couldn’t help but feel all the more irked that this was the background the image inside the studio was sitting against. 

Through the large glass windows, Mingyu is pressing his foot over top of his very pretty student’s on the pedal to force the pottery wheel to spin, hands over her own as he guides her fingers to put pressure on the wet clay. A spiteful part of you pushes a thought in your mind, that your husband was attempting to fix a lost cause, especially when his student seemed quite insistent in her soft smiles and keeping her gaze on the fingers that cover her own, rather than actually fixing the abomination on the pottery wheel. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there by the time he’s done, straightening his back to turn his attention to the other students that make their attempts at their half done projects. Mingyu catches your figure through the window and immediately breaks into a big smile, clay covered hand coming to wave at you. 

Taking it as your cue to walk into the studio, you return neither his gorgeous smile or his occupied wave as you strut through the glass doors. Your husband meets you on the other side of the open space, hands now washed clean as he leans over to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey, you,” he says in greeting, hands drying on a towel. 

All you can think about is if that salad bowl girl can see you, and you thank goodness you wore your nice top today. 

“Here.” You merely push the slightly crumpled file of documents to his chest, jaw set and lips tight. 

“Oh, thanks,” he comments as he grabs the papers pushed towards him, smile dropping a little at your abrupt attitude. “Is everything alright?” 

“Hm? ‘Course,” you answer, adjust the strap of your bag. “I have to get back to work. Be careful about your paperwork next time, I can’t keep making trips across town for this.”

You bite your tongue as soon as you say it, the words tumbling out before you can help it. Can’t keep making trips across town for this? Last time you checked, you were looking for passive excuses to make the trip to your husband’s studio just to see him during the day. 

“Oh.” His brows are furrowed, the frown apparent on his face. “I–I didn’t think you’d be too busy today, you said you’d be done early so—I—nevermind. I’m sorry I pulled you out of work for this, I’ll be careful next time.”

There’s a pang in your heart as you hear him apologise, immediately mad at yourself for going on and ruining his mood. What were you annoyed at? That he was doing his job? 

Your gaze lands behind him where most of his students are occupied with their projects, but just one whose eyes dart between you and Mingyu. 

Taking a step back, you’re about to walk out before you feel him grab your wrist. “D’you wanna have dinner at the new restaurant down the pier after work? We can watch the sunset too, haven’t done that in a while.”

You want to scream yes. Of course you want to watch a beach sunset with your husband. Of course you want to eat at the restaurant you’ve been waiting eagerly for with your husband. And you aren’t entirely sure if this reaction is simply because you’ve been stressed lately, but the sticky feeling is pushing you to make your claim in some way, somehow. 

Biting back another strangely snarky reply, you make an attempt to fix your stoic face and walk back to Mingyu. Leaning up, you kiss the corner of his mouth in what you hope is slightly reassuring. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Kicking off your heels is the first thing you do once you make it back to your desk, taking no time to punch the power on button on your computer. You pull a file from the stack next to you, one that sits at the bottom, with a harder than necessary yank. Bad idea, because as you scramble to stop the pile from tipping over entirely, you can only think of other ways your day could get worse. 

Before the worst of it can hit the floor, you find a second set of hands catching the strewing papers. 

“Thanks, Han,” you say as you attempt to reorganise the documents, taking the extra ones off his hands. 

“Have the laws of physics forsaken you? Or do you just like reorganising paperwork?” Hansol asks, sipping on something from the stupid horse mug Mingyu had made for him in light of his promotion. 

Huffing, you only haphazardly stuff the files to the corner to be done with it, opening the file you need as your computer finally boots up. “Don’t you have manager stuff to do?” 

“Being a manager means I can put off doing manager stuff,” he states. “Besides, I’m taking care of my peers, can you imagine the catastrophe that could’ve been if I didn’t swoop in to save you?”

“Papers on the floor? How catastrophic indeed,” you monotone as you click away at trying to find a particular excel sheet. 

“How was Mingyu?”

Stiffening, you want to curse Hansol at reminding you of the very thing you did not want to think of right now. 

“He was fine.”

“You were back earlier than usual, thought you would’ve had lunch with him.”

That was your plan, but clearly the universe had other ways for you to go about your day. Like thinking about an overly flirty student and her all too oblivious teacher. 

“He…he had a workshop today,” you simply comment. 

“Okay, Elsa, who shoved an ice cube up your ass?” You can hear the sneer in his voice, the judgmental stare. 

Groaning loudly, you can only slam your forehead onto your desk in an all too dramatic fashion. “Can you drop it? Please?”

“Ah,” he drags. “Trouble in paradise. Understood. I will be at my desk if you want to complain about your husband like Margaret from Finance.”

Margaret from Finance. The woman who’s entire catalogue of marital issues would be solved if she and her husband simply spoke to each other once in a while. Perhaps even held hands on occasion. 

You wince as you envision yourself becoming as stuck up and miserable as that, Hansol’s harmless comparison sending you into yet another spiral. It wasn’t that serious, this was all because your brain was stressed, horny and in love. The fact that your husband looked like how he did wasn’t really helping either. 

With a little more aggression than you usually would’ve done with, you attempt to skim through the files as quickly as humanly possible, flicking through the useless filler pages to get to the ones that actually required your attention. 

You send a passive aggressive email to Hansol entailing his job to keep things precise. 

Shoving forkfuls of salad into your mouth, your mouse clicks louder than anyone else in the area, having gone back to change your cursor speed about thrice since you turned your computer on. 

Your phone dings. Closing your eyes, you count to ten before turning to look at the illuminated screen beside you. 

[Gyu <3]: did u have lunch?

[Gyu <3]: i wanted us to get sum together but u zoomed off : (((

[Gyu <3]: im done with my classes for the day. The students were asking ab you earlier when u came in heh

[Gyu <3]: cant wait to see u tonight i looooooveee u <333

God, he makes it hard to stay mad at him. 

Snapping your head back to your monitor, you close your eyes once again as you question the war in your head and chest. Why were you mad at him? There was nothing to be mad about. Did you expect him to go about his day covered in plastic wrap and a neon ‘OFF LIMITS’ sign all day? The ring on his finger was supposed to do the job just fine. 

You sigh as you force yourself to text him back something that wasn’t entirely passive aggressive. Typing and erasing, and typing again and erasing again. A smiley face to seal it into something you were not feeling, and send. 

It’s late in the afternoon by the time you’re done, the sun less blaring as it pours through the office windows. You flick the last file shut, power off your computer and spring up to your feet, immediately gathering your things. Phone, ID, keys, and the last plastic file in your hands, you stalk towards Hansol’s desk and slam the papers next to his computer. 

He nearly chokes on his pocky stick as you spit out your final notes in rapid fire, not caring if you were indecipherable in the slightest. Hansol’s eyebrows remain in the air by the time you’re done, spinning on your heels and walking straight towards the elevators. 

“See you, Monday!” you finally hear him call out and you don’t turn to return his goodbye. Something that might have given you a strike but you could threaten him to take it off all the same. 

Besides, you had somewhere to be, and the idea churning in your brain didn’t seem like it wanted to wait. 

The sun is setting by the time you get to the beach boardwalk, climbing the steps to the line of establishments that overlook the significantly more occupied shore. Everything is perfect. Warm just the right amount, the sunlight forcing everything in its path into an incandescent glow. 

What you would’ve given for a nice lie on one of the beach chairs to release an entire day’s worth of tense muscles. But alas, you trudge straight down the boardwalk and walk the way to Mingyu’s studio. When you’re nearly there, you see the glass door of the studio open from a distance, immediately recognising the part timer leaving for the day. 

You cross paths as he walks towards you in the opposite direction, lighting up as he recognises you through your work attire. 

“Oh, hi!” Chan chirps, arm raised in a half wave. 

“Hi! Clocking out?” you ask as you stop to greet him. 

“Uh—yeah, Mingyu let me go early.” He’s grinning. 

“Good to hear. You enjoy the rest of your night, alright?” 

“Yeah–uh, you too!” he stutters once again as he continues to smile wide. You think nothing of it and continue your short walk to where the studio doors were. 

Coming round, you find the large glass door and walls have been blocked out with the blinds, the blaring CLOSED sign right at the entrance. 

You stand there in front of the door like a fool, taking a deep breath, eyes closed as you gain your bearings. Grabbing the shiny handle, you push the unlocked glass open. 

The bell at the top jingles, signalling a customer, and you watch your husband sitting at one of the turntables, clearly occupied. The studio is completely empty except for him, the whirr of the spinning table coming to a halt as he turns to tell whoever came in that they were closed for the day. 

It’s revolting. He’s wearing his usual black tee, stained with months of splattered clay, his hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it before he started his project. The sun seeps in through the neglected edges of the top of the glass walls, past the blinds that cover most of them, casting him in an unbelievable light. It’s revolting, he’s done nothing and it’s making your head reel; revolting. 

“We’re—oh, you’re early!” There it is, that stupid smile he can’t help but flash at every last person he sees, directed straight at you laced with nothing but love. 

Reaching behind you, you push the metal lock on the door to click it shut, locking the both of you inside, and the rest of the beach and boardwalk out. Right after, you begin to kick off your heels. 

“I already made the reservations for an hour from now, let me change and wash up so we can go to the beach till—”

“Sit down.”

He was halfway out of his seat as he was talking, ready to leave his half done work on the turntable to leave with you. Your words come out firm, a strange tone like you were giving him a command. 

It works, and the shock has him immediately falling back into his chair. The force pushes the chair away from the turn tables, now half facing you.  

Dropping your bag, you shuck your long coat off and leave it on the floor. Eyeing his hands, they’re covered in wet clay, suspended away from his body so as to not ruin his clothes more than they already are, speckled with dried clay and paint. 

He recovers quickly, confused as he watches you fiddle with the buttons on your bottoms, rising out of his chair once again. 

“What are you—” 

“I said,'' you grunt as you finally push your bottoms down so they hit the floor. “Sit down.” 

The shift in his face makes it obvious it has clicked in his head, staring at you as you walk towards him in just your blouse as the situation escalates faster than he can keep up with. 

“Right now? Can you at least let me—”

Through his blabbering you’ve reached him and swung a leg over his lap, seating yourself on his clothed thighs as he moves his hands away, making sure not to get clay all over your blouse. 

His hands may be occupied in a different sense, but you choose to busy yours in other ways. Taking his face in your hands, you lock your mouths in an open mouthed kiss, rendering him speechless. 

Taking no time to think, nor to let him think, you push your hips down to meet his own in a deep grind, panty clad pussy making contact with the rough of his jeans right over his bulge. The feeling is so sudden, spiking throughout your system as you hear him take a sharp inhale still pressed into your mouth.

That was you. That was you getting that reaction out of him, no matter how small it was. The thought has you gripping the back of his head, fingers making home in the short strands of his hair as you let go from the kiss. 

Wasting no time, you push his head back and stick your tongue out, licking a stripe from the base of his throat right up to his jaw. He shivers beneath you, and it only muddles your mind even more. 

You can feel his bulge beneath you growing larger and larger by the second, pressing into your inner thigh as his breathing grows exponentially heavier in your ear. Locking eyes with him, you trail your other hand down to graze over the front of his shirt, pressing into the bumps and ridges that lie beneath.

Reaching his buckle, you hook your finger underneath the gap and pull at the metal. As you let go, it snaps back into place with a resounding cling! Keeping the eye contact, you drift even lower, your fingers find the growing tent in his jeans as you cup the bulge. Moving your hands in the way you know he likes it, you curb your speed to drag out the feeling for him. 

“Fuck,” you hear him curse lowly. 

It’s becoming impossible for him to keep his composure, especially to keep his hands away from your body that sits on him. He gets close, fingers brushing the white of your blouse in a moment of confusion, instant brown on the surface as his wet, clay hands ruin your shirt. 

“If you really can’t keep your hands to yourself,” you say, halting your movements on his crotch. “I guess this’ll have to go too.”

Not bothering to undo all the buttons, you tug the first couple ones unfastened and pull your blouse over your head, throwing it somewhere behind his head. Quickly, you reach behind and unclasp your bra, flinging it away in the same general area. You’re now almost entirely naked while he remains clothed head to toe. 

Your nipples harden as they meet the air in the studio, Mingyu’s eyes set on your mounds as he takes them in. 

Before he has the opportunity to do anything, you slip off of your seat in his lap, knees slamming the floors in your haste as you kneel before him. Hands flying, you tug at the buckle of his belt, undoing it despite your hurried motions. 

“You’ve been off today, are you sure everything’s alright?” Mingyu asks from, still wide eyed as he watches helplessly as you yank his jeans enough to reveal the final layer of his underwear. It doesn’t take you long to take his entire length out of there too, needing him in front of you.

“Do not ask me about my feelings when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What on earth–shit!”

You’ve taken his now fully hard length into your hand, licking a strip from the base of his cock up to the bulbous head. The tip of your tongue teases the head ever so lightly, and Mingyu watches as his head and your tongue match in their reds. He watches the way your tongue dips into the pooling white of his precum, pushing into his slit as the tip of your tongue wiggles slightly. 

The fact that he cannot touch only heightens the effects of your teasing, clayed hands balling into fists just to feel something on his fingertips. 

Soon, your lips have wrapped around the head of cock as you let it rub against the beginnings of the inside of your soft mouth. Letting go, you take him in again, this time running your tongue over his slit, feeling his hips twitch beneath you as you continue to take him in and out, only to take him back in again. 

In one motion, you sink your mouth lower onto his dick, feeling the head of his cock run against the roof of your mouth. Mingyu hisses audibly amidst his very loud and heavy breathing. 

When you feel him hit the beginnings of your throat, you pull back, bringing your hand to curve around the base to cover what you couldn’t fit, pumping him up and down as you continue to pull his member in and out of your mouth. 

He’s moaning loud, the echoes resonating off the walls as you hear your name slip from his mouth over, and over, and over again. It only encourages you as you move down deeper, his cock touching the back of your throat in more familiarity than before. 

Everything is wet; the spit and precum turning into a shiny gleam on his cock and on the lower half of your face, the heat between your legs that makes you feel oh so empty. Clenching around nothing, you resist the urge to bring a hand down to relieve yourself. 

“Are you ovulating or something, why are you suddenly…suddenly, fucking hell I don’t know.” 

Releasing him from your mouth with a loud pop, you rear your head to look up at him, the lower half of your face covered in a wet glisten. Your hand continues to pump him as you watch his face remain contorted in pleasure.

In a daze, you don’t realise what you’re saying as you blab. “Could she do it like this?”

“What?”

“Could she do it like this?” you repeat like a mantra, needing to hear his answer. “Could she make you feel like this?”

“What are you talking about?” It’s taking Mingyu every bit of his soul to form coherent words. 

In one swift motion, you’ve hoisted yourself back on your feet, nails digging into his thighs through his pants. 

Hovering over his lap, you take his shaft once again, but this time you push your panties aside with your hand and bring it close to your heat, brushing the head of his cock over your wet folds, using him to feel the pleasure that builds. 

“God, you’re so wet,” he blabs as he throws his head back at the feeling. “I wanna touch you, fuck I need to get this clay off, I need to touch you.”

He’s brought his mouth to latch onto your nipple, evoking a loud gasp from you as feel him circle your nub with his tongue before sucking. Letting go, he sticks his tongue out as his only weapon, flicking it repeatedly as you continue to rub his wet cock over your equally wet cunt. 

Lining him up with your entrance, you sink onto his head as you let out a loud moan, feeling the tip stretch you out in the familiar way you’ve been craving all day. It’s like your brain is buffering as you recover from the bout of pleasure, barely registering that he’s continued to assault your other nipple now. 

Your free hand comes to toy with your relieved tit, twisting your spit covered nipple between your fingers as his dick pushes further and further inside you. 

Fully sheathed, you pull your husband’s face away from your breast as you bring his lips to your own, kissing him deep as you clench around his hard cock.

“Don’t. Do that,” he hisses against your lips, hands suddenly closing in your waist, so close before he realises he can’t. “‘M gonna fucking come, I’m so serious.”

The news is enlightening, especially as it encourages you to lift your hips ever so slightly, and curl back back down in an initial thrust. Again, and again, and again till you’re moving your hips at a swift pace, striking down on his length as you both moan into each other's mouths.

The feeling is electrifying, and the borderline pornographic noises your husband is making is only making it all the more easier to gush around his member, to move your hips faster as you feel the knot in your abdomen tighten and loosen. 

“You feel amazing, so fucking good,” he grunts as he mouths the column of your throat. “My baby, my darling, my wife.”

And when the burn in your thighs becomes more than just a mental battle, your hips slowing despite the mind boggling feeling and the choked sobs that come out of you, you feel Mingyu’s hips lift from the chair he’d been trapped in, pushing into you instead. 

His still dirty hands have taken hold of the top of the back legs of the chair, helping himself push off his seat to thrust into you rapidly. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” he says. “Rub your clit for me.”

Who are you to deny him, one hand on one of his broad shoulders while the other flies down to the mess that’s becoming of your cunt. Rubbing two fingers over your clit, you throw your head back in a loud moan as you feel yourself beginning to close in.

Mingyu is watching the apex of your thighs; the way your fingers work against your swollen clit, the way his dick disappears inside you, a ring of sinful white foaming at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, a clear indication that he was also close. 

Your breasts are a sight to behold, and the scene before him is enough to make him bust entirely. Bouncing tits that he cannot touch, perfectly red, puffed pussy he cannot touch, the beautiful curves and dips of your waist and thigh, barely illuminated by the setting sun, that he cannot touch. He curses the wretched idea to make a last minute thing on the turntable before you arrived, curses the fact that he should be able to feel all of you. 

He might lose his mind, and he does when your walls clamp down on him like a trap, your moans so loud he’s sure he’ll be hearing them in his ears for weeks. 

“G–Gyu, I’m cumming,” you whimper through the pure brain fog. 

Mingyu fucks you through your orgasm, finally letting himself release his own load into you when he simply can’t take it anymore, dick spasming as he shoots white hot cum into your hole. The added slick makes it easier to slip in and out faster as his orgasm holds out far longer than it usually does, both of your hips twitching like you’d been zapped as you come down from your highs. 

It’s become near impossible to hold up your own weight, slumping against his large frame as you unclench every pinched muscle and joint. Forehead on his shoulder, you take pleasure in the afterglow, breathing in his scent with your nose pressed into the sliver of skin that reveals past his shirt. Sweat, the earthy odour of clay, and the calm familiarity of him.

“I don’t know what I did to have you acting like this,” he breathes into your ear. “But whatever it is, I need to do it more often.”

Sluggishly, you lift your head to look at him. His head is leaned back on the chair, face glowing as you stare into the eyes you fell in love with so long ago. 

“You haven’t done anything,” you sigh. “It was…stupid.”

“That’s the worst thing you could say to me right now.”

You whine, rolling your neck. “What do you want me to tell you?”

He stares. “Who do I need to thank for creating this monster?”

It was a joke, clearly, but you couldn’t help but feel the little pool of pride swell within you anyway. 

“Salad bowl girl.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means? Do you want a salad bowl? I can make you one.”

“No. The girl in your class this morning with that god awful salad bowl,” you huff. “It looked offensive, she was too busy burning holes into you.”

“Oh no,” he whispers, eyes wide, mouth turning it the beginnings of a hysterical laugh. “My pretty little wife is jealous.”

“If you’re gonna rub it in, I'm getting off.” You try to remove yourself from his lap, slipping his now soft member out of you. 

You’re stopped when you feel the two points of his elbows locking you at the waist, pushing you down. He’s grinning like a fool. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry—”

“Your hello was my dick in your mouth.”

“So you didn’t like it?”

“I’d fire myself in the kiln before I ever say that.” He locks his elbows harder, pulling you closer. “Besides, I think this means I’ve won.”

“Won what?”

“Like you’ve never noticed Chan looking at you like…like he’s got some puppy dog crush on you. I’ve won the battle of composure.” 

You guffaw, “What are you—stop it, he does not!”

He merely leans forward and kisses you, “I don’t blame him. My wife is the most gorgeous thing anyone could ever see.” 

Grabbing him by the elbows, you break free of his hold and get off of his lap, attempting to gather the clothes you’ve scattered across the studio. 

“Can you at least help me put my dick back inside my pants, these are my cleaner jeans!”

Snapping the elastic of your bra back on, pantied adjusted, you walk back to him. He’s looking at you with those stupid stars in his eyes and it makes it hard to focus on readjusting his jeans for him. 

Leaning down, you take in your hands his still wet cock, smothered in your spit and arousal, complete with his own release. You can’t help it when you dip further to take his head into your mouth, the groan coming from above you near automatic. 

“Oh, you’re evil.”

You grin as you wrap your mouth in a harsher suck, feeling him harden slowly, still quicker than you’d thought. Giving him a few more generous sucks, you run your tongue over his slit before moving back. 

He’s breathing heavily, leaning close as you pull his waistband up. “You know, they say you should lay down afterwards if you want to be successful. I think we might have to go again later on a real bed to do the trick.”

“You can stay horny, I’m getting dressed for some real food.” 

“I think we kinda need to be horny to do what we’re trying to do,” he lowtones, moving his face back and forth to meet your drifting eyes. 

You sigh once again, “Why can’t just getting off birth control be enough?”

“Are you not having fun?”

“I’m literally buttoning your pants for you, it was fun until now.”

Mingyu raises his hands in both surrender and pointed regard, the clay now dried and cracking over his hands and forearms. “I digress.”

 It annoys you that he’s right, so you lean in to give him a kiss as a distraction. It works. 

“It’s alright,” he smiles into your kiss. “This is the one thing I won’t mind breaking my back for.”

The giggle escapes you before you can help it, and you feel him kiss at your cheeks, placing one last one on the tip of your nose.

“Now, if my lovely wife will let me wash my hands…?”

“Go,” you chuckle.

“We should name our baby Salad Bowl in this honour.” He’s way at the handwash station by now, water running as he scrubs off all the dried up clay.

“So sad our baby will have to grow up without a father.”

 “I love you,” he yells. 

“I’ll be sure to tell our child.” 

“You’re insufferable,” he says, suddenly behind you as you pull on your blouse. Wet hands grasp your waist and you squeal at the feeling. 

“Mingyu!” 

“I love you,” he drags, spinning you around to face him. 

“I thought I was insufferable.”

Your husband groans, simply pulling you into him with his own two hands to kiss you. 

“I think we’re late for our reservation.”

“You’d better hurry then.” You eye his clay speckled shirt.

“Don’t miss me.” He turns around to find his cleaner shirt, all while you drift over to see the incomplete project still on his table.

A mug still clay-brown and half done, but one that looks suspiciously similar to your favourite one you broke last week. 

[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[saetiate]

itoshi sae x f!reader tags: afab reader with she/her pronouns, jealous!sae, oliver aiku causes drama, oral f!receiving, hand around throat but not really choking wc: 1.6k

There are very few events you go to with Sae, few that he bothers to attend himself at all. It’s the first thing Oliver notices about you, that out of all the partners to his colleagues, you’re the one he’s seen the least of.

The second thing he notices is that even when you’re there, Sae barely speaks a word to you.

He wouldn’t think you minded if he wasn’t really looking. You’re kind and sweet as you make your rounds to the other players and their partners, much better at small talk and remembering things about people (how’s the new dog? Giving you any trouble? A new house! Let me know your address so we can send you a gift.) than Sae has ever been in his experience. But you’re careful to always keep Sae in your line of sight, like you’re always looking to him for something. Approval, or attention, or something that’s sort of like both.

Sae has his back to you, clearly begrudgingly involved in a conversation with Shidou’s arm resting on his shoulder. This is the first thing Oliver makes sure of before he approaches you when you’re alone at the bar.

“It’s been so long,” he comments as he slides in next to you. He makes it sound casual, smiles sweetly, and you respond so easily in turn.

“Aiku-san! It has, hasn’t it?” you immediately perk up at him, and it’s something he can’t help but find quite adoring. You’re quick to ask him about his life, and he lets you play for a bit until he decides he wants to pay it no mind.

“Sae doesn’t really stay with you at these things, does he?”

His voice almost sounds full of pity, it shocks you with how direct it is.

“Ah! Well- we spend a lot of time together, so it makes sense that he wants to spend time with his friends at these things. They’re a crowd! So he’s busy with them, you know?”

You smile nervously, and it’s that little feeling again that gets to Oliver – like you’re waiting for a validating response.

He could give that to you. But you’d have to give him something first.

Oliver taps the rim of his glass, condensation running down. “Mm. And is he busy a lot?”

“I…”

It’s at this moment that you begin to realize how close he is to you. In the hesitation, he cups one side of your face with his hand, your jaw in his palm and his fingers grazing over your cheek. You’re frozen, staring at him in shock. You’ve been Sae’s for so long, when’s the last time anyone has had the nerve to put their hands on you? His hand moves down to your neck-

Sae is quick to replace Oliver’s hand, wrapping his hand around your neck fully, gently and yet without the constraint or tentativeness Oliver had. You can feel the warm of his body behind you as he pulls you in, so close you can smell his cologne.

He’s got his characteristic neutral, nonchalant face on, save for one quirked eyebrow in Oliver's direction. But Oliver knows, he’s seen Sae on the field-

This is Sae when he’s pissed.

 “Happy to have you join us.” Oliver smiles, but this time it’s something a little more wicked. He knew he would come fetch you at some point, but he didn’t think it’d be this fast, that he’d notice this soon.

“You think this is some type of game?” If Sae was a lesser man, the sentence would’ve been spat in Oliver's face. It’s a near thing.

“Ha? Women are never a game.” Oliver pushes his weight off the counter, walks past Sae with a shrug. “Just didn’t think you liked her that much.”

Sae clicks his teeth, looking like he swallowed something unpleasant. He squeezes your neck a little tighter.

“Let’s go. I’m sick of this.”

~

“Sae-san, I-”

“Quiet.”

It’s not said aggressively, not like a command, but he still watches the way you go silent immediately in the elevator down. Even though you want so desperately to say something, to make things right. You are good to him. He knows it too.

“Oliver likes to mess around,” he sighs, one hand rifling through his hair, an air of exasperation. You don’t entirely get it, but it’s as close to it’s not your fault as it gets with him.

It’s in the silence of the car, darkness illuminated only by headlights and traffic lights, that Sae finally allows you to speak.

“Do you think I don’t like you enough?”

Your eyes go wide immediately, your hands waving in front of you. “W-well, it’s not- I know you’re really busy! And you barely go to these events, so you should spend time with your friends.”

You’re too nervous to notice it, but he watches, listens to you with full intent. His finger taps against the steering wheel.

When he parks and gets out the car, you don’t wait for him to open the door for you. Something in that irritates him, makes him frown. He throws his keys into the bowl in the entryway with a jangle, and when you turn around from taking your shoes off, he’s already in your space.

His hands are on your waist, pressing you against the wall. You try to protest but he silences it with his lips on yours, his hands on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your purse falls somewhere on the ground. But you don’t care. You can’t care, because Sae is hot and heavy against your mouth and between your legs. He presses you into the wall further, grips your thighs tighter, holds you up easily with one arm as he wraps one hand around your neck and kisses the remaining exposed skin.

It's only for a moment before his hand moves back down to roam under your dress, pulling your panties down fervently, the way the fabric sticks to your slick already is something he doesn’t fail to notice. Makes him wonder if he really has been neglecting you.

He tucks them in his pocket and then he’s falling to his knees. You think you whisper his name but you can’t tell over the shuffling. Your feet never touch the ground, he lifts you until your legs are resting over his shoulders, holds you up like this. You try to tell him, “Sae, we’re gonna fall,” (he wouldn’t drop you, don’t you know?) but he doesn’t say a single goddamn thing. Just bunches your dress up and presses his mouth to your cunt.

The broken moan you let out is nothing short of song to him. There’s nothing to stabilize you except for grasping his hair in your hands. You’re a little scared, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand you. If anything, he presses deeper into your cunt. Swipes his tongue up from bottom to top. Makes you sob with the way he zig-zags his tongue up your slit all the way to your clit. He’s always like this – a tease, in control. He holds your arousal in his hands and on his tongue and he knows how and when to make you drip, in a way that ensures only he’s able to drink.

It's sickening, the way he makes your mind fog immediately, makes nothing exist but him in this moment. He does it a few more times before he relents. This is meant to be a reward, after all. An apology, maybe. He presses his tongue to your clit and kitten licks a few times. Envelops the bud in his mouth and swipes over and over, grips your plush thighs tight. You don’t know how long he does it because you feel like you can’t breathe, breath coming short, gasps that are like drowning. He watches you through it, your chest rising and falling, your hands shaking in his hair.And then he speeds up and your core tightens and your body comes crashing, first up, and then down. He holds you steady against the wall as you whine, your hot cum drooling into his mouth that he swallows up willingly, tight core finally relieving.

You heave as you come to your senses, nails scratching at the nape of Sae’s hair as he laps your oversensitive cunt, making you jolt. He licks you clean before he lets up, taking a deep breath. He kisses each side of your inner thighs, and then once more on your clit for good measure, smiling as he hears your broken whine once again.

He finally lets up. Holds you tight so you don’t slump to the ground. He kisses you deeply, lets you taste yourself on his tongue, makes out with you until you’re out of air.

Don’t think I don’t like you. He wants to tell you, but instead he wraps you in his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Why don’t you go shower first and get in bed, and I’ll meet you there?” His voice is gentle, actions soft, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

You look up at him doe-eyed. “Don’t you wanna-?”

“Mm. Later. You go first, okay?”

You’re too wobbly and wrung out to protest, so you go when he gently leads you both to the bedroom.

The words get stuck in his throat as he closes the bathroom door for you. I really do love you.  

He hopes you might already know.

author's note: sorry to make oliver a bit of a villain in this LMAO in his head he’s just tryna save you from what looks like a failing relationship! if anything he’s your knight in shining armor <3 too bad that didn’t work out how he wanted it to hm

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ SWEET TALK. featuring choso.

↻ choso lives for one thing ; to make sure his precious girlfriend is never unsatisfied.

tags : cunniligus, dirty talk, body worship, male masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, mentions of face sitting, feral choso // wc. 0.7k

author's note : i lowkey wanna thank @toadtoru for sending in an ask about this before i even posted it, because i used some of those ideas to improve on this :3 in true homage to my username choso is a complete slut in this lolsies ;) one more to go and this event is finished, thanks for sticking around for THIS long i love everyone here >o<

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

if there’s one thing CHOSO firmly believes in, it’s that you aren’t just his girlfriend, but some supreme deity from heaven above. it sounds completely ridiculous, but he believes it more than anything, especially in moments like this. 

you just look so beautiful above him on the couch, thighs parted slightly and fingers caressing the sensitive mound in between your legs, head tipped back and lips parted in a silent ‘o’ as your toes curl into the carpet. angelic, he thinks, and he can’t wait to receive permission to touch you.

“choso…” your voice is smooth like butter yet sweet like caramel, and choso can feel his cock begin to press up against his slacks. “c’mere.”

yes. that’s all he needs before he’s eagerly crawling in between your legs to lap at your cunt, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he pulls them apart in earnest. “shit… missed me, did she?” his rambles are fueled by pure lust and delusion, and as he eats you out, choso begins to talk into your cunt. “missed her too… poor baby can’t go too long without her sweet boyfriend, huh…”

fingers tangle in his dark locks as you pull him closer, effectively muffling his ramblings by grinding your lower half on his tongue. the way he eats you out is feverish, his wet muscle alternating between your inflamed clit and pulsing hole interchangeably. and choso can’t help himself from getting fired up by your lewd display too, his own hips grinding down onto  the couch as he finds solace in between your legs. 

you, on the other hand, are positively reeling, legs twitching uncontrollably as choso continues to make a mess of your poor cunt. you wish you could return to him the same pleasure tenfold, but all you can do is sit and take it, helpless to his ministrations. “cho, cho, ‘s too much, baby, s-slow down…” 

begging is futile. choso is hypnotised, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head in an immediate reflection of your own reaction. “sorry baby, can’t, you taste s’good, don’t wanna…”

neither of you are in your right mind, but choso especially. when you cry out from orgasm for the first time, he barely takes note, his tongue on your clit never letting up as he brings two fingers to the entrance of your weeping cunt. the other hand previously on your thigh is now shoved into his boxers, and he’s fisting himself just as quickly as his fingers begin to plow your pussy. 

he’s killing you, but you love it. his brown eyes peek up in between your legs, and you just catch his expression, pupils dilated with lust as he watches you twitch above him. he mumbles something onto your clit before he’s licking and kissing it again, and you begin to think you might actually die. 

“c’mon, baby,” he groans, hips thrusting forward into his palm as he continues to eat. “c’mon baby, gimme another one– fuck, please, please…”

“choso, i can’t…” you truly believe that, given the way he’s already on his way to giving you another orgasm in the short span of five minutes. but he needs it so bad, needs you to cum for him so bad that he speeds up, thumb now joining his tongue to stimulate your clit in unison. “choso!”

“that’s it, baby, that’s it, oh, she’s close, isn’t she?” you can barely believe that he’s treating your pussy like its own person, but fuck is it turning you on. you hiccup pitiful whimpers as your thighs begin to tremble again, knees closing inwards and trapping choso’s head in between your legs.

if he were to die in this position, he wouldn’t mind. your release sprays his lips in repeated spurts, juices dribbling down his chin and some even dripping onto the flared head of his cock. it’s that which tips choso over the edge, and he’s spurting ropes onto the carpet, his own eyes finding the back of his head rapidly as his nose jerks against your clit.

“baby…” he stares down at the mess he’s made on the floor and then back at you, who’s laying spread eagle on the couch, chest rapidly rising and falling. “you gotta sit on my face next time.”

PREVIOUS : SURVIVAL ft. sniper mask NEXT : INKED ft. suguru geto

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[lightseoul]

16 please 👀

Congrats btw for your 2K milestone!! 🎉 WAHOO

number 16, coming right up! thank you for playing and for the congratulations, lovely <3 i hope this one makes you laugh!

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

16. "I WANT TO GO HOME TO MY WIFE." (0.7k)

it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.

“seriously, dude?”

bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.

at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”

a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.

“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”

the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”

“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”

sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.

thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.

for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.

biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.

while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.

the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.

reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.

much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.

(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?

the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.

oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.

he quickly types out his response.

(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.

“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”

bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.

pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”

“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.

bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.

“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.

“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”

at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.

before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.

“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.

“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.

at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.

kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”

while the menace snickers. “simp.”

[hollandsfavbabe]

Wet & Wild

pairing: art donaldson x reader

synopsis: in which you, a swimmer, and art, a tennis champ, change each other's lives for the better when you challenge his match-like stance on life

warnings: smut build up, porn with a plot, making out, cursing, frat party, art being stupid, happy ending dw, two parts because I cannot condense my writing for the life of me

word count: 4.0k

masterlist

“Swimmers…”

You curled your fingers around the rough end of the diving board, unconsciously holding your breath as you readied for the starting noise. The pool glinted below you, reflecting light from the glaring sun above that sparkled like the blue glitter polish on your toenails. But you ignored it, blocking out anything that wasn’t the signal as you lowered your neck.

“Take your marks…”

There it was. You tensed as the official hovered her finger over the mic button. She was about to send you off and there could be no hesitation once she did. Any second now.

“GO!”

You were already under as the crowd started cheering. Two laps,100 meters, that’s all that it took and you had already conquered a quarter of the length by the time you came up for your breakout strokes. You cut through the smooth pool surface leaving white water waves in your wake. You tried not to let your gaze stray anywhere away from the tiled black line at the bottom of the pool as you felt the competition slipping behind you.

As the wall comes into view at the other end of the 50 meter pool, you take your first breath of the race and pause your strokes for only a second to perform a nearly perfect flip turn. You only have one more length back before it’s over and you can claim the medal that is rightfully yours as you come up from your last breakout. Arms pulling and legs kicking almost frantically, you’re almost there, so close you can sense the touch pad waiting for you at the end. You zoom past the flags and…

“I can’t believe I lost by less than two tenths of a second!” you groan, taking a swig from the Heineken one of your teammates had handed you when you arrived earlier. More than 12 hours had passed since your race and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about your unexpected loss. It had plagued you still as you had made your way to the party a random fraternity had thrown, though your team considered it a celebration after the Stanford swim team took home another champion title. It was small in comparison to the larger meets you had won in the past, but it was a reason to stay out past the curfew your coach imposed on you. And any reason to stay out was good enough for you.

“You’re not actually upset about that, are you?” Chloe asked, one of your teammates who competed in the endurance free events. While you would consider yourself close to nearly every girl who swam with you, Chloe was more of an instant best friend.

You shake your head as she sips on her own beer. Unlike you, she had opted for a brand with a higher alcohol percentage as she was unafraid of hangover ridicule that inevitably awaited her at your next morning practice.

“Of course not. You know me, winning is only a plus. I just can’t believe I got so close to the record!”

It was true. You didn’t so much mind losing the first place prize to the opposing team in such an insignificant meet. What really had you grinding your teeth was the fact that you had only been a half of a second away from the official Stanford record. You weren’t sure where you lost that time in your race, whether it was one of your two breaths or if you needed to dive further out, but you were set on remedying every part of your race until the problem was solved. Your next meet was only a week away and unlike this one, it would be a much bigger deal.

“You got that girl,” Chloe assured you, patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. “Half a second ain’t nothing for you.”

“I hope so. I’m not missing any more practices until I get it.”

Your conversation was disrupted as the room suddenly erupted in cheers, people gathering around the entrance as newcomers entered. You turned your head towards the noise, searching for whoever could elicit such a response.

You caught sight of him right away, a man you had never seen before though immediately prayed you’d never lose sight of. He was tall, his head covered in light blonde curls that were well trimmed to not hang over his hooded eyes. He was attractive, no doubt, but there was more to him than looks. There had to be. Anybody had to be more than attractive to get applause in a place like Stanford, especially within the frat parties.

“Who is that?” you nudged Chloe in his direction. She was normally more up to date than you on the campus celebrities as she didn’t get swallowed up by her swimming commitments as often as you. Chloe nearly choked on her drink as she saw him, turning back to you with a befuddled expression.

“You don’t know Art Donaldson? He’s like the most promising tennis student to ever play here.”

You furrowed a brow, staring at Chloe as if she had said something incredibly stupid.

“Do I look like I watch fucking tennis?” you gestures to your hoodie that clearly bore the words ‘Stanford Swimming and Diving’.

“Let me put it this way,” Chloe started, unoffended as always. “He’s already won the Junior US Open in the doubles category. He got second in the singles and at the rate he almost qualified for the real thing.”

“What’s stopping him?” You asked, looking back in the direction of the man who had now settled on the dance floor with a drink. You sensed a catch in Chloe’s explanation.

“That.”

Chloe pointed to the only television in the house that was conveniently showing a rerun of one of the man’s, Art’s, matches which from the date you could tell happened the same time as your meet. He was amazing, more skilled than any of the few players you had ever watched before, but even you, someone who knew nothing about tennis, could tell that he was playing like something was holding him back. Every ball out of his reach skirted to the fence behind him until he eventually lost. You couldn’t understand how a Junior US Open champion could miss shots that were arguably hard, but reasonable for a professional. There had to be more to it than what lay on the surface and as a swimmer you couldn’t stop the urge to dive in deeper.

“Oh no,” Chloe smirked. She knew you too well to miss when you were after something you wanted. And you weren’t sure by which mystical force you were being pulled, but you started to gravitate away from her. “You’re going to go after him, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna do a walk around.” you promised, standing from your couch seat beside her, though you were both certain she wouldn’t see you again until practice the next day.

“Good luck.”

You were careful not to approach him directly, instead jumping into a conversation with a couple of your teammates who happened to be chatting in his vicinity. After several minutes of receiving congratulations for your attempt at the record, the group surrounding Art had finally dispersed leaving him alone with his drink on the floor. Lucky for you, by the time he was without a crowd to bypass, your group had moved on to much more nonsensical topics. It was then, by chance or fate as you believed, that he just so happened to bump into you, forcing your drink out of your hand and his attention onto you.

The glass of your Heiniken sank to the group, shattering into a million dazzling pieces of green glass, but you were able to block it out with the focus of a swimmer as you felt his stare on you.

Through the flashing lights you were able to make out the shape of his face better, mapping out sharp jawlines and chiseled cheekbones. You decided then you preferred this Art, the one who smiled at you anxiously over his moving body on the tennis channel and by the slight intrigue on his face, you could tell he felt similarly.

“I’m so sorry,” he professed, looking down at the mess of glass behind you before his blue eyes again met yours “You okay?” He had to shout over the loud music, guilt evidently rushing through him as if he had shoved you to the ground rather than accidentally causing you to drop your nearly empty bottle.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Art, right?”

Art nodded, leaning in closer to you so that he could hear you over the blaring club music.

“Do I know you?” he asked, in awe that you knew his name as if it wasn’t being broadcasted all over the Stanford sport program.

“Not yet,” you laughed, pointing to the screen where you had just seen him, watching as a wave of embarrassment washed over him as they replayed the portion of the match where he lost it all, unbeknownst to you. “I was watching your game. You’re really good.”

“You play?”

“Not tennis.” you gestured to the logo on your hoodie, hoping the disco lighting wasn’t enough to distort the clear waves of the swimming logo. 

“Oh wow,” he marveled. “I didn’t even know we had a swim team.”

“What can I say? My sport’s not quite as popular as yours.” you shrugged, shooting him a smile.

“We’ve really gotta get you another drink.” Art pointed out as he took a swig of his own beer.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just have to take care of this first.”

You turned around to the glass mess that waited for you only to find that your teammates had already handled it in the time you had spent getting introduced to Art, leaving the two of you plenty of time to get acquainted, mess free. You caught sight of them across the room sitting next to Chloe, smirking at you as you looked their way. You rolled your eyes at the sight.

Art had his arm offered out to you when you turned back to him, a guarantee that the two of you wouldn’t get separated on the floor as you headed into the kitchen. It’s there that the seconds fade into elongated hours as you get to know more about each other. You told Art all about your life on the team and why swimming was your calling out of all sports while he spilled to you every tennis affiliated memory from his childhood where you learned he attended a special boarding school for the sport. You made note of his humility as he never once mentioned his success on the Junior US Open and the high level he can play.

You finish the soda Art had gotten for you as the music in the main room increases in volume, forcing you to crane your neck in order to talk in his ear, leaning in so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s not much taller than you, but it’s enough to make a difference.

“I can’t hear anything with this music,” you admitted, speaking at a timbre that’s loud enough to be audible to Art without bursting his eardrums. “Do you wanna move somewhere else?”

You knew Art was joining you when he looked at you with consideration. But it was impossible for you to know exactly what he was thinking, staying ignorant to the fact that he supposed after losing his match and an evening with Tashi due to another scheduled Patrick reappearance, what did he have left to lose? He wouldn’t normally do this, but you look like the perfect contender for a brand new game.

“Let’s go upstairs.” he nodded towards the stairs to your left, accepting your invitation. “It won’t be as loud up there.”

And so you both made your way up the frat house staircase, passing by closed door after closed door until you finally found a vacant bedroom. While you don’t know who lives there, it was tidy enough for you to neglect caring as you followed Art inside and shut the door behind you. 

“I don't think I ever caught your name, by the way.” Art stated as he took a seat on the bed in the center of the room, leaving a space for you beside him..

“Oh, I didn’t say.” you chuckled in realization as you sat beside him, your name falling from your lips as you met the lumpy mattress.

“And this is your reward party?” he wondered, a thought you can’t help smiling at as you shake your head.

“Definitely not,” you took another swig from your bottle. “I don’t think there’s any real reason behind this besides to fuel college memories. If anything, they’d be celebrating you. You’re like famous right?”

Art’s gaze moves to the shag carpet below as he shakes his head of blonde curls, disappointment shrouding his face.

“Not quite,” he disagreed, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I don’t know if you saw the whole thing, but my match today wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

“Why not?”

“Because I lost.”

He stated it like it was obvious which only confuses you as a swimmer. All the work and dedication he must put into his sport all to think there was no yield. You couldn’t imagine basing your pride off of winning and winning alone when there were so many other components to competing.

“So?”

He’s startled by your nonchalance towards losing, something so foreign to him it isn’t even a refreshing take.

“So?” he repeated. “So I failed today. I let my team down. I let Tashi down.”

Tashi. You’ve definitely heard that name before. Though you don’t know much about the inner workers of tennis, everyone and their mother in the state of California knows who Tashi Duncan is. She’s the most famous person on campus, in and out of the tennis world. You didn’t know her personally, only ever seeing her when walking between classes. You also knew she had a boyfriend who didn’t attend Stanford from seeing them eating together. There had always been something off about her and now, with Art beside you in full self-deprecation mode, you figured you were about to find out exactly what it was.

“Is that who you were looking at?” you asked, piecing together that she must’ve been in attendance at his match. He immediately tensed at the mention, surprised you caught the simple detail. “I saw during your match. You looked like you were distracted.”

“It wasn’t just her,” he shook his head. “One of my oldest friends just flew for the weekend. He was there with her.” he paused. “They both saw me fail.”

“I’m sure they were both proud of you.” you assured, but Art was quick to set you straight as his friends didn’t operate the same way yours did.

“No, you don’t get it. I’m nothing if I don’t win.”

“Well it’s okay, you can just try again next time.”

“It doesn’t work like that. That’s not what tennis is about.”

You sensed a planted ideology in his evaluation, causing you to probe further.

“Really? So tennis isn’t just hitting balls with rackets over and over?”

“It’s more than that,” he informed you, taking no offense from your lack of knowledge. “It’s a relationship. It’s about the fight between two people. The back and forth until someone comes out on top. And even then the winning, it’s not nearly as important as the match. I didn’t just lose today, I let the crowd down. And my opponent won without the intensity of a good match. All because of me.”

You quieted as he explained, placing a careful hand on his shoulder as he finished. You felt for him, absorbing his sorrows like a therapeutic sponge, but it didn’t take a tennis expert to understand that bullshit behind his dogma. It sounded more like a manipulation technique than anything, all stemming from the same source.

“Did Tashi tell you that?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if your statement was any more outrageous than the lies he had been fed.

“It’s the truth.” he answered.

You weren’t sure how to get across to him, if it was even possible to crash through the wall of his beliefs in the first place, but you knew you had to try. It wasn’t right for him to harbor such disappointment over a match that did nothing to disprove his skill at his sport.

“Okay,” your voice softened as you thought of a way to challenge his theories. “Let’s change the subject. How about I tell you how swimming works?”

“Isn’t it more of the same?” he sighed, still overcomplicating his loss.

“Actually it’s very different.” you corrected.

“What do you mean?” Art asked, looking at you with the utmost intrigue.

“What if I told you that even the losers in swimming end up winning?”

Incredulous of the possibility, Art waited for further explanation.

“See like tennis, we have the players and of course only one person in each race can come out on top, but it’s not about beating the other players. Once you’re out there, it’s just you and the water. That’s the only relationship. It doesn’t matter where anyone else is, beside you, behind you, that’s not what’s not important. All that matters is how well you swim and if you lost a few seconds on the time board. Everything else is lost to the waves. And if your time is the fastest well, that’s just one big fucking bonus.”

Art sat with your words, unable to reply as he processes the possibility of winning as a loser. It’s almost too hard to imagine. You leaned closer to him, breath catching as his eyes moved down to your lips and one of his hands gently gripped your thigh.

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded, your faces so close now that your nose nudged his own.

“I didn’t win today either,” you whisper to him. “But my team screamed when I touched that wall. And do you know why?”

He waited for you to explain, eyes fluttering close for only a second as you laid a palm on his shirt, feeling the hard muscle that lay beneath. Your hands trailed to his sleeves, settling his bare skin a blaze as you take in his equally sturdy biceps.

“I almost beat a school record today. First time in 30 years if I had done it.”

“There’s no records like that in tennis.” he countered, but there was uncertainty in his tone. As if he was waiting for you to further back this new perspective. As if he was really starting to believe it.

“Then maybe you should take a page out of my book. Leave tennis in the past for now and focus on what’s here, in the present…” your lips brush over his before you mutter, “... focus on me.”

You're not entirely sure who initiated it, but before either of you could get out another word, his lips were on yours. You dove head first into the kiss, his lips melting against yours as you swipe your tongue out to catch the lingering taste of cheap beer at the edge of his parted mouth. It’s all so soft, like two cracked dolls who want nothing more than to break for the other until the intensity reaches its peak and you could feel microscopic beads of sweat forming at your brow.

Art pulled you in closer, gentle hands moving to your waist as the faint vocals of California Gurls played distantly in the background. His fingers curled into your sides, worming their way under the hem of your hoodie as they gave way to underlying desire, sparking every inch of your skin that they came into contact with.

You sighed as his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Pausing the kiss, he tipped his head back to jerk ever so lightly on your lip before allowing it to snap back into place and at once you crashed back into mouth, kissing him with a fervor you don’t remember ever feeling this intensely. Every movement, every change in the pace all worsened the heat igniting within you.

You tugged on the blonde roots of his curls that rest closest to his neck and soon enough you felt Art’s needy fingers claw at the waist back of your black athletic shorts. Though you're in desperate need of relief from the growing pool of desire at your core, you knew it was time to pull back. Art didn’t let you go so easy, his lips chasing after yours once you’ve broken the kiss, but it’s no use. You knew you couldn’t do this, at least not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Art whispered against your lips, automatically assuming that it was his own fault rather than an independent decision of your own. It was certainly too intimate for a man you’d only just met, but you have to cup his cheek to keep from breaking as his own hands part from your skin.

You told him some form of the truth, that you didn’t think the timing was right. It’s not that you didn’t want to, you were dying to sneak another taste of his lips in and give him everything he’s ever wanted right there and then. But you couldn’t. Not when you know that it’s just another match. A distraction from Tashi. Especially not when you know that it didn’t have to be.

“We can’t do this here.”

Art face fell at your words, but he’s never been one to give up so easily.

“Then let’s go back to my place.” he offered, hoping it was just the atmosphere of the party that alarmed you. He wasn’t ready for you to leave.

“No, not tonight.” you frowned apologetically. “Not while you’re playing tennis.”

He stared at you in utter confusion as you stood up from your place beside him, dusting off your clothes as if you hadn’t been enjoying him all along. He didn’t understand the reasons behind your sudden switch, but he’s willing to risk it all in the heat of the moment.

“You want me to quit.” he suggested as if it’s a solution both of you are comfortable with. You turned back to him disturbed, shaking your head wildly at the proposal.

“Of course not, Art, you know that’s not what I mean,” you began, gathering an explanation that you hope will convey your reasons without making him feel like a complete piece of shit. “I don’t know what Tashi told you, but to me it sounds like she expects a winner. She’s programmed you into believing the player doesn’t matter without a title.”

You stepped an inch in his direction, close enough that you can see even the smallest details of his face, but not enough for him to touch you again.

“…but she’s forgetting that without the player, winner or loser, there is no title. Without a foundation, there is no relationship between you and the other player. And nobody can succeed if they’re scared of failure.” you explained further. You knew your words resonated with Art as his gaze turned to the stained carpet of the bedroom, but he had to pass the ball back.

“Well, you said it yourself, you don’t know Tashi.” he fired back, and you knew it’s only the tennis talking.

“You know I’m right.”

Art was silent, only proving your point. You knew you had to leave, but you had to promise him a second meeting, for him and for yourself. You wouldn’t be blocked from a happy ending by wrong timing.

“Come to my meet next weekend,” you invited him. “It’s the biggest one of the year. You should see how other sports operate.”

“I can’t see you before then?”

You almost smiled at the confirmation that his frustration wasn’t directed towards you.

“I have practice,” you shrugged. “- and so do you. You can see me again at my meet and in the meantime, just think about what I said. And know that you’re more than a loser, Art.”

You left without another word, shutting the door while silently cursing yourself for not taking the opportunity while you had it. It was very possible that you would never see the tennis star again, that every spark you felt with him in your first hour of knowing him was entirely one sided. You prayed it wasn’t true, that he had shown some feelings in return, but only time would tell. In exactly one week, you would be certain.

part two out now!!!

[aajjks]

F O R E V E R (m)

synopsis. Sometimes one has to take extreme measures to make sure that their beloved stays, and he also did, make sure that you stay with him forever.

male!oc x fem!reader

warnings. yändêrê bêhãvïöür, hïnts ät mälê mästrübåtïön, bäby träppïng, pïlls rẽplåcẽměnt, dïvörcë, s-x, ëxplïcït cöntěnt, cöärcätïön, mänïpülätïön.

note. HEYYY MEET YOUR EX HUSBAND- I get you’re going to love him- talk to him, remember to send asks to your beloved, him. he’s so excited to talk to you. 🥺💓

yandere!ex husband who didn’t want a divorce, yandere ex husband who still loves you very much, too bad that you’re already over him

yandere!ex husband who’s always seeking to be with his child so that he can spend more time with you.

yandere!ex husband who made sure that you both got joint custody of your daughter, ayra. Yandere ex husband who adores his daughter who looks exactly like you, maybe her nose and lips are like her daddy.

Yandere!ex husband who will and does make sure to sabotage your dating life- it’s not like you have much of a dating life because your daughter takes most of your time & attention.

Yandere!ex husband who doesn’t have much of a dating or sex life because he’s still stuck on you, he’s got to get you back.

Yandere!ex husband who calls you every night, you have almost considered blocking him because he’s always sending you the most lewd and explicit voice messages.

Of course he’s jerking off to the thought of you and the way you felt so good whenever he fucked you. He is a breathy moaning mess, stuttering out your name like a chant.

“Y-Yn… ‘m please pick up.. ‘m so close to cumming baby” or “ahhh misssing you s’much yn… wish it was you rather than my hand.”

And His timings are pretty weird because it could be 4 AM in the morning and he could send you these messages or it could be 9 AM in the morning and you would receive these messages.

He’s definitely not shy.

Yandere!Ex-husband who is shameless, he doesn’t care that you’re divorced, and that what he’s doing is highly inappropriate.

Yandere!Ex-husband who is a seduction master. Yeah he’s always present at any events that your five-year-old has at her school, along with you and you’re always surprised to see him.

He knows you well and somehow you both end up fucking in the school bathroom or an empty classroom, he’s way too charming and cunning.

Yandere!ex husband who’s impossible to resist but he’s just way too toxic, you can really tell what’s going on in his brain, ease always got the stupidest smirk whenever he’s with you.

Yandere!ex-husband who fucks you like his life depends on it, you just make him miss you so much, he’s barely lasting as soon as he’s inside you.

Yandere!ex husband who’s so close to having you back because now you let him stay over to your house with ayra and sometimes when she’s asleep- you let him in your bedroom.

He loves you so much and he’s always making sure to sabotage your potential love interests so you have no choice but to let him in, oh he can’t help it,

Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you, you’re needy, he gets it- no one can ever get you like him. He Will do anything for you

Yandere!ex husband who has baby trapped you once, and now he’s going to do it again.

Yandere!ex husband who makes sure to replace your birth control pills with something useless so the next time he’s inside you? He’s leaving something.

You let him cum inside you, he convinces you every time + you’re on your pills right? He would remind you so sweetly, looking at you with his icy eyes.

He’s gorgeous, Xavier loves you so much, and when a few months later, when you call him in a panic, telling him to come over, so he can show him something.. he’s so eager to know.

Yandere ex husband, who acts surprised when you show him a blue stick with a + on its small display, written on it is pregnant and he’s gasping.

“Y-Yn… I thought you were on pills? H-How is that possible?” He’s feign his surprise, looking at with you, his icy boys eyes filled with surprise, inside? He’s screaming. He’s ruining his fingers through his raven hair, his freshly shaved jaw wide, almost popping his dimples.

“Y-Yn don’t worry sweetheart I’m gonna be there for you and our children… y-you don’t need to worry just focus on your health and… please… marry me.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 5:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Sorry for the long weight everyone! I had to binge allll of Stranger Things for a friend's future birthday event and ohhh wow I thought the episodes were gonna be 20 minutes not 40-1hr

Also I suffered a bit of writers block, it happens

But regardless, I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

(also the taglist has migrated to the bottom of the fic because it's a bit too long now)

----

The office was large, sprawling walls contained by an even bigger ceiling. The faint humming of Tim’s computer provided no reassurance, nor did the soft leather of your seat. It felt as if you could sink right into it, and try to fade away. There was a faint aroma of coffee that lingered around the office, but it gave you no solace. It just reminded you of the mistakes you made, to end up here. The elephant in the room.

Tim’s smile was bright, a warm sun. You were burning.

“It’s.. nice to see you again.” You attempted, words stumbling about on your tongue. You couldn't help it, the mere presence of your soulmate sending anxiety skyrocketing down your spine. Why couldn't he just get to the point?

“I didn't really expect my company and Wayne Enterprises to be working together.” You continued, a fake smile plastered onto your face. “What a nice coincidence!”

“I hope for us to have a successful collaboration.” Tim replies, still smiling. “But enough about the companies, it's been so long since I've seen you, and I didn't have your number to text.”

You laugh in response, a pale imitation of a real laugh. You had hoped to focus on discussing the work you both had to do first, and then escape before any catch up talks were attempted. Unfortunately, it appears that Tim won't let you do any actual work before engaging with him.

Your nails dug into your knees, an attempt to stay calm. Your reply was measured.

“Oh are you sure? Surely it would be better to get work on the collaboration done first, then we’ll have all the time left to chat freely.”

“I wouldn't worry about that, really. We’ve got plenty of time together, and I wouldn't be able to work without knowing how you're doing lately. Since you didn't have the time to text, I presume you've been busy?”

“Ah, right! Yes! Yes I have been, busy that is, you know how it is with work. Endless and all that.” You were frustrated at being pushed into a lie already. Tim was in charge here and he knew it.

“Why don't you give me your number then?” His smile was perfect, as flawless as his manipulation. “That way, when you're too busy to remember to message, I can remind you.”

You frowned. Like he didn't know your number already.

Quickly remembering you had to smile, you gave him your number, watching as he slowly typed it in, then texted. Only when you showed you received his text did he relent.

The ‘meeting’ continued on from there, Tim asking about all your hobbies and passions. Time ticked on, daylight turning to evening. Any attempt from you to redirect the conversation to either himself or work was swiftly dismissed. A small part of you admired his skill, he was playing you like a doll. You knew it, but you had no option but to play along. It was like an older sibling playing pretend with the young sibling. You hated the comparison.

The attention was unnerving. Your only solace was that neither of you had soul animals present currently, which was an absolute miracle.

Actually… what if that isn't a coincidence at all? Could this too have been engineered? Was that even possible?

“So then what’s your opinion on..” The sound of Tim’s voice slammed you back to reality. You quickly focused back in, fearing losing any advantage due to a lack of attention.

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, the noise blazing a path through your eardrums. You jolted in surprise. Tim however, was barely rattled. A frown appeared on his face as he glanced at his phone.

“That was the Arkham Asylum breakout alarm. It's no longer safe to go outside.” With these words Tim got up, walking over to the door and opening it.

“What…?” You mumbled, horrified.

“Stay here.” He commanded, a firm tone in his voice. This was Red Robin. “I’m going to check on the building, don't leave, it isn't safe.”

“Wait! But.. the collaboration.. we didn't..” The words rushed out of your mouth, leaving you feeling like a fool as Tim paused for a moment, to look at you.

“Don't worry.” He smiled, the weight of it bearing down upon you. You felt small. “You can just come in tomorrow, I'm sure your company won't mind.” With the final word said, Tim closed the door, presumably rushing off to become Red Robin. The click of the door felt like a dismissal, a scolding. A reminder to stay in your place.

Once again, you were trapped.

You clenched your fists. He wanted you to stay here, in his territory. You didn't doubt that Wayne Enterprises had amazing security, probably some of the best considering the identities of the owners. This was likely the third most safe place in Gotham, with the first and second places going to Batman’s base and Wayne Manor.

But… you haven't learned anything yet. All that time spent with him and somehow he hadn't brought up that singular, obvious fact. There was no way he didn't know, not with the way he was acting. And yet, he hadn't brought it up. Why?

What was he getting out of this?

Was he hoping that if you assumed he didn't know then you could easily be monitored? Was he just gathering information before acting? Where was the rest of the vigilantes in this?

Your head was spinning, going in circles. You couldn't understand him, you couldn't understand any of them. Why choose to be vigilantes, knowing the costs that life endures? Why were you tied to them, when you were so against a fundamental part of their existence?

You couldn't understand this at all. How could this be the basis of a soulmate bond?

You were… opposites.

You felt the telltale beat of an oncoming headache. For your own sanity, you decided to fold the incoming soulmate crisis into a small cavity of your brain to panic about later.

Fact One: There was an ongoing Arkham Asylum breakout, everyone is either being attacked, hiding away or escaping the city.

Fact Two: Batman and all his partners are going to be occupied for at least several hours if not a day.

Fact Three: You were going to take advantage of this.

It was the perfect time. All your soulmates were occupied, so none of them would be able to pay any attention to you. Red Robin might know your identity, and so the other vigilantes may know as well.

That didn't need to matter. They may have the information, but information itself is useless, if they are unable to act.

Right now, any Gothamite that isn't involved with rogues is either hiding or escaping. You could join the escapes, and get out of Gotham in the rush.

You didn't have to stay here, to play the role of a caged bird. You could escape, before they even got a chance.

You had to try.

You suppressed a shaky sigh, getting up and walking to the door. You tried the door handle.

Locked.

Uh oh. You tried it again, and then a few more times after that, shaking the door eventually in your desperation. Oh come on! You desperately thought to yourself. The one time you finally got the perfect chance and it's being ruined by a locked door.

Wait. You glanced at the small window in the door, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in your head. You glance over at Tim’s desk, noticing a small paper weight. You smile.

Lifting the paperweight, you judge the weight to be enough. Holding it up, you get into position to throw.

Wait.. the door has a keyhole, not a sliding chain, you realize, almost too late.

Ah.

Well that would have been embarrassing.

Sadly, you place the paperweight back down. There goes that idea.

But that wasn't the only door in the office, there was another one, the one that the shouting voice left out of. You approach the door, trying the doorknob.

Click!

It opens! Giving a small laugh, you advance through the door and out into the halls of Wayne Enterprises, a jubilant smile on your face. Whoever was shouting at Tim earlier, you almost wanted to thank them.

You avoid the elevators, instead picking stairs, as you presumed they may also be in lockdown. It didn't take you too long to get down to the ground floor, since the main walking areas were now barren of people.

The ground floor had some unfortunate news to offer you though. The once wildly open doors had now been locked down and barred, an iron wall between you and freedom.

Although, maybe there was some other way, you thought, eyeing the anxious security guards patrolling the front entrance.

Pulling out of your hiding spot, you approach the guards, making to time your steps, making noise to not scare them. You really didn't want to get shot before you had even left the safety of the building.

“P-please help me!” You stuttered, trembling with tears in your eyes. The guards jolted in surprise, turning to face you. They were expecting threats from the outside, not the inside.

“I need to get home, I can't stay here.” You sobbed, the guards pausing in confusion. They didn't know what to do with you.

“What’s wrong?” A sympathetic guard asked, patting you gently on the back. You almost felt bad.

“I need to go home!” You repeated, tone frantic.

A disgruntled guard stepped up to you. “Look, no one can leave right now. Company policy. It isn't safe, there's been an Arkham breakout. Just sit tight, and whatever’s waiting for you at home will be there when you get back.”

“N-no…” You mumbled. “You don't understand.. I have.. I have a cat, waiting for me.” You glance up, watching the expressions on their faces. They seem unmoved. “A-and my child!” You cry out, realizing you needed a better lie.

“A child?” The disgruntled guard repeated, sounding a little more sympathetic, but clearly not convinced. He eyed you up and down, evidentially thinking you looked a little too young.

“They're so little, but my cat likes to take care of them and I needed the money so, so I left them at home alone today. But recently they're been figuring out how to open doors and if anything happened to them I don't know what I’d d-” Your frantic lie is cut off, the disgruntled guard laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright listen. None of us can escort you, we're here on the job.”

You nodded, feeling exuberation rush through you.

“But if anything happened, run right back here, alright?”

You nodded again, fighting a smile on your face. The guards unlocked the doors, watching you dash out with frowns on their tired faces.

They were obvious to the beaming smirk on yours.

Nights in Gotham are by nature a little terrifying, but they're nothing compared to an Arkham breakout night. Shadows crawled up alleyways, the smell of booze and smoke lingering in a way it never could on normal nights. The terror was so pungent in the air, you could almost taste it. It was on the tip of your tongue.

Every so often you'd hear a scream, and you'd walk a little faster. Ideally you would have committed to the stealth route, but you had wasted enough time already.

Your house was on the way to the bus station, so you could easily pop in, grab essentials, and get out. You wouldn't lie, you were nervous. Every so often you’d feel your knees lose strength, and you'd have to fight with your body to regain the strength to stand.

But at this point it was either the horror of whatever your soulmates had in store for you, or the horrors of Arkham night. You'd already picked your poison, now it was time to swallow.

You took a breath in, then out, and continued walking. You were almost there.

The streets of Gotham stretched on endlessly, a cacophony of fear.

Just a bit longer.

A gunshot sounded nearby, the noise blasting through your eardrum.

Almost there.

The hum of a van's engine rushed through the night, haunting laughter echoing through the road.

You could see your house!

You beamed, a smile lighting up your face, as you practically skipped up to the entrance. You reached into your bag to withdraw your keys.

You had just retrieved them when a crowbar smashed into your head.

----

Wow umh, please pray for reader guys, this is NOT going well for them. Who do you think that was?

Me writing shenanigans for this chapter:

I just really feel like reader should smash open this window, let's do it. Wait. They wouldn't have doors that work like that. so reader sadly puts the heavy object down :(

Also me: yeah so reader lies here and it's an absolute mess

Also also me: rip reader that's a lotta head trauma omg

Sorry for the lack of soul animals this chapter :(( there's a reason I swear

The next chapter is definitely gonna be a bit insane, for sure! The soul animals return then anddd in droves!

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If I missed anyone out im super sorry! I generally check the replies for the current chapter and messages for people that want to be tagged, so it's possible for people to slip by

Just remind me again and I'll be sure to add you! (This also goes for if I misspell you accidentally, which also happens cuz I type them all manually)

For some reason I couldnt tag anymore people until I put a random space in-between the tags, so that's apparently a thing. If anyone has any ideas why, I'm listening