#every once in a while i do a little bit of research | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

salmonballsss · 2 days ago

Text

The Violet Hour

(Chapter 2)

You are a young, awkward historian obsessed with the Salem witch trials. One name repeats through obscure documents: Agatha Harkness. She's not supposed to exist anymore. But when you find a book authored in her name and follow the trail to a remote New England town, you're met with a woman who looks nothing like she belongs in your century—and who wants absolutely nothing to do with you…

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: None yet.

You woke up a couple hours later… can’t say it was the best sleep of your life, but at least you got some rest. You stretched out your limbs, letting out a few much needed pops in your lower back. A soft groan slipped out before you finally rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sat up with a yawn, casting a glance at the same windows that had flown open a week prior from the wind. You squinted against the sun filtering through, then cast your gaze around your wrecked apartment.

I need a better hobby… or maybe a girlfriend. You couldn't help but think.

You got up with another stretch, slipped on your slippers, and walked into the kitchen to brew some tea. Some say it’s better for you than coffee—more health benefits.

While waiting for the kettle to boil, you took another look around and sighed. You started picking up some of the papers scattered across the floor and counters in an effort to keep your now semi rested mind from spiraling once more.

By the time your tea was steeped, you’d done a bit of damage control. It no longer looked like the Tasmanian Devil himself had torn through the place. You headed into your room and sat at your desk, flipping through a few stacks of notes you’d taken the night before. Some werecompletely unreadable scribbles. Others… made just enough sense to reignite your obsession.

Agatha Harkness.

Scrawled across every page.

Who is she? Are they all the same person? Why does she keep popping up?

But no matter how many questions you had… no answers ever followed.

Your brow furrowed as you racked your brain for your next move. You might know where this woman could be—if she was even real, that is. You sighed and grabbed your laptop off the bed, your eyes drifting to the old book you’d finally gotten your hands on last night.

You opened your laptop to find every single tab from your late night research still open.

Hollow Oak, Ipswich, Massachusetts.

The words echoed in your head as you leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. You could buy a plane ticket. Go see the town for yourself. Maybe even meet the author behind this weird, poetic fever dream of a book.

Even if it wasn’t her… the trip could still help your thesis. Talk to locals. Soak in the rural setting. Get a feel for the landscape behind the legends.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers were already typing:

Plane tickets to Massachusetts.

For research, you told yourself.

Thirty minutes of internal debate later, you clicked the “purchase” button. Just like that, you had a flight for tomorrow morning. The flutter in your chest was part excitement, part anxiety.

You took a deep breath, pushed away from your desk, and went to take a shower—hoping It might help with your scattered brain further.

--- The rest of your day passed surprisingly peacefully, as if booking the ticket had pressed pause on the stress you'd been swimmng in. You found yourself flipping through that same book again— the book —one you’d already read three times last night, but now with slightly more clarity.

Around the middle of the book, your phone buzzed.

A text, maybe?

You glanced at it, but not before slipping a bookmark between the pages. The screen lit up.

Billy calling.

A small smile tugged at your lips. You were happy to talk to your best friend. You set your new prized possession aside and hit “Accept.”

“Hey, what’s up?” you said as you wandered into the kitchen. You’d always been a pacer during phone calls, doing slow laps around the apartment like a little bird.

You heard Billy’s laugh on the other end. “Not much. Just checking in on you—you haven’t replied to my texts.” A beat, then a grin in his tone. “Don’t tell me you’re still going on about the ghost woman.”

You snorted. Okay, fair. Billy had been texting all week. You just hadn’t had the time—or energy—to respond. Not with a dark haired stranger you’d never met haunting every spare thought even with the small break you took.

“Sorry, Billy… and she is not just some ghost woman,” you muttered, grumbling into the receiver. You hated how spot on his teasing always was. “It’s just the thesis and—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cut you off. “Save it, missy. Wanna hang out and have dinner at mine? Or yours?”

You glanced around your apartment. Yeah… it had been months since someone last visited. Not exactly guest ready.

“How about we just go out instead?” you mumbled awkwardly into the phone.

You and Billy caught up a bit, jumping between topics like you always did. But having to cut the phone call short because his boyfriend needed help with something.

---

Hours passed. You went back to your notes, flipping through every sentence like there might be a secret message you missed. The book—which you had previously categorized as probably nonsense —now felt urgent, even brilliant.

But still… nothing. No new clues. No hidden cipher. No secret passage tucked between the lines.

You pouted, glanced at the clock, then grabbed your bag and a jacket. It was almost time to meet Billy at that sushi place you’d suggested.

---

It was around the end of your and Billy’s little sushi get together. Just a classic hangout, as always.

You smiled at whatever Billy had been going on about as you popped the last sushi roll into your mouth with a hum. To be honest, you weren’t paying all that much attention to what he was saying. All your thoughts were set on the ticket, the flight you had in the morning looming over you.

Billy, however, as observant as always, noticed you weren’t even paying attention. Finally, he stopped talking and just raised an eyebrow at you.

“You know, if you wanted me to shut up, you could’ve just said,” Billy said, his tone wry yet playful, like he was asking, Really? Zoned out during my rant? Me? As if he wasn’t entertaining enough.

When you didn’t respond, he went on, “Yeah, about that Agatha Harkness thing—I was thinking the ghost woman was really—”

Your eyes snapped up as you gulped down the rest of the sushi roll. “Huh!?”

You hadn’t even caught what he said until the mention of Agatha. Suddenly, you were sitting upright in your chair.

“I knew it. You are still thinking about that dead woman,” Billy said with a knowing tone. Your eyes shoot wide open and you open and close your mouth.

“What?! I—I am not, you—” You cut off your awkward stumbling with a groan.

Billy chuckled, looking way too amused, and you shot him a glare. He rolled his eyes. “Well, spill then. What are you thinking about? Better yet—who? ”

You looked like a deer in headlights, questioning whether you should tell him or not.

You sighed softly. You’d already told him most of it—what’s the harm? It’s thesis research. It’ll be fine.

“I booked a ticket to Massachusetts,” you said rather quickly, blurting it out. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he finally asked after a beat of silence.

“I kinda… maybe… booked a ticket across the U.S. to Massachusetts so I can see the town where the Salem witch trials were held and I’m kinda… maybe leaving for it tomorrow morning,” you rambled out quickly, your eyes wandering around the restaurant rather than landing on your best friend.

Billy just stared at you for a moment. You slowly met his eyes and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Surprise…?”

Billy sighed. “Why am I not surprised…”

After a moment, he spoke again. “You’re flying across the country for a woman who might be dead?”

You stared at him, trying to find any reason to defend yourself—as stupid as it sounded.

How pathetic could you be? This really was a wild goose chase.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes at him. “It’s not for her! ” you scoffed out instantly—perhaps a bit too defensively. “It’s for my thesis I have to write! Don’t you think going there would help with my research? Put a spot to mind? I can’t just have my head buried in books all day, Billy.”

You lied straight through your teeth.

…Well. Kinda lied.

You were going to work on your thesis. That’s the main reason you’re going…

Right?

---

It was the next morning. Your heart was beating a little too fast as you grabbed the bag you had packed the night before, right after dinner with Billy.

Billy, of course, was a “you do you” kind of person… but also an “you’re an idiot” kind of guy. No matter how hard you tried to explain that this whole trip was perfectly logical— for research —he just rolled his eyes and made fun of you. As always.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, brushing your teeth and washing your face. Your phone lit up as you checked the time.

7:00 a.m.

You moved through the apartment like clockwork, double- and triple-checking everything. Bag? Packed. Notes, folders, books—anything that could remotely help with your thesis while you were away? All accounted for.

Finally, you slung your bag over your shoulder, grabbed your slightly overstuffed duffle bag, and were halfway out the door when you stopped.

As if a whisper curled around the back of your mind, soft and low.

You turned slowly.

The book.

It sat on your desk, still where you left it, but now it felt like it was looking back. Waiting. Luring.

Calling.

Your breath hitched in your chest as your eyes locked onto the name etched on the worn cover.

Agatha Harkness.

And suddenly… any doubt you had flickered out.

You needed to know more. You had to go.

You stepped forward, grabbed the book almost reverently, and slid it into your bag—tucked safely between your folders and notebooks like a secret weapon. Locking your apartment behind you, you exhaled a shaky breath, nerves and excitement tangling in your gut.

The air was cool and damp. It had rained again. Typical.

You opened your phone to check if your Uber had arrived, but before you even clicked the app, a black Honda Civic pulled up to the curb.

The passenger side window rolled down.

Inside sat a man in his late forties or early fifties, salt and pepper hair, slightly overweight with an unshaven beard and under eye bags that said “coffee stopped working years ago.” He leaned over the console to get a better look at you.

“Uber for…?” he started, about to glance at his phone.

You stepped forward and gave your name before he could finish. He gave a little nod of recognition.

“That’s me,” you said, already moving toward the older black car that could definitely use a car wash.

You slid into the backseat, adjusted your bags, and buckled up.

The driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Name’s Dave. Where to?”

“SeaTac Airport, please.” You offered a polite smile, though your fingers couldn’t stop picking at your nails.

Dave nodded, plugged the destination into his phone, and pulled away from the curb.

You leaned back against the seat, your gaze drifting out the window as familiar streets blurred past under a grey Washington sky. The town looked even sleepier than usual in the morning rain.

You watched it all fade behind you, your thoughts buzzing too loud to fully settle.

You reached into your bag, fingers brushing the book— her book. You found the title with your touch, tracing the slightly raised letters like they might anchor you to something real.

There were still no clear answers.

But you were done waiting for them to come to you.

You were going to find her.

Or at the very least… whatever was waiting for you in Hollow Oak.

---

Once your plane had landed, you went through the usual process—waiting an annoyingly long amount of time just to get off the plane, only to then navigate the maze of the airport.

Thankfully, you had deemed both your bags as carry ons. No way were you going to stand around for who knows how long, waiting for your luggage to circle endlessly until, finally, your bag decided to make an appearance.

Nope. Instead, you went straight for the exit.

As you made your way through the terminal, you glanced around, looking for the signs that would hopefully lead you to the bus station—the one that would take you to the small, tuckedaway town.

When you stepped outside, you were immediately hit with the crisp, salty air of Massachusetts. The sky was overcast—of course—and the wind had a bite to it, sharper than anything back home. You shudder slightly, wrapping your jacket around you tighter.

You followed the signs slowly until you finally spotted the bus station. The next one would arrive in 7 minutes.

You smiled to yourself, the blood in your veins vibrating with an all consuming need to arrive at your final destination.

When the bus pulled up, you made sure you had everything before climbing on, flashing your ticket at the driver, who barely glanced at it.

You made your way toward the middle of the mostly empty bus.

Did no one want to go to Hollow Oak or something?

You slid into your seat and set your bag at your feet. The driver—a woman with her hair tied into a loose bun and a tired expression—glanced up at the mirror above her seat, checking that you were settled in before she put the bus into drive.

You let out a breath, closing your eyes as the vehicle pulled away from the bustle of Boston—past sleepy neighborhoods, crumbling brick buildings, and patches of dense, dark forest—until the road narrowed and the scenery slowly began to change.

Back home, it would normally be almost 3:00 p.m., but thanks to the East Coast time difference, it was now 6:00 p.m. You watched from the bus window as you were driven through narrow roads engulfed by towering trees. A part of it reminded you of home. The sun was starting to set, casting golden rays through the leaves and onto the side of the bus.

After about an hour of riding in a small city bus, only stopping to pick up a few other travelers heading to the small town, a sweet elderly woman ended up sitting beside you with a smile.

You didn’t make much conversation with her, though.

Your mind was somewhere else. You thought back to the past two days. You had the coordinates of where you might find Agatha… if it was actually her. On her book site, there was no photo. Nothing . Just her name.

You didn’t even know if it was the same woman who had been popping in and out throughout history. You’d only ever seen one photo of her—from the Titanic era.

Just a few cryptic descriptions from that one night you’d gone full detective mode.

You flicked through your notes to pass the time.

“Survivor account from the RMS Titanic: ‘A dark-haired woman with violet eyes pulled me into a lifeboat. She was singing. Said I was lucky. That the sea liked me.’”

“Dark haired woman who promised more than she asked for.”

No birthdate. No backstory. Just a quote:

"She said her name was Agatha. Just Agatha. She didn’t ask for money. Just something you loved."

Then you flipped to another page where you’d scribbled down the directions that might lead you to the very woman who had been haunting every inch of your mind.

Hollow Oak, Ipswich, Massachusetts.Turn left at the old stone bridge. Take the path lined with willows. Cross the stream that never runs dry…

As you were reading over everything once more, the woman beside you finally spoke—causing you to just about jolt out of your seat, scattering your notes all over the floor of the bus.

You looked at her. “Shit—sorry, what?” you said as you scrambled to pick up the papers now fluttering around your feet.

The older woman chuckled—a sweet laugh, the kind that had clearly seen many things in her life. “I said, ‘You’re looking for her, aren’t you?’”

Your hands instantly stilled. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

You turned. The elderly woman was sitting just as she’d been for the past twenty minutes, half swallowed by shadows, her needles clicking softly as she knit something deep plum and unending. Her gaze was sharp. Amused. Like she knew something you didn’t.

“Who?” you asked, your voice startled, your brain racing. Did this woman know something? Anything? A clue to the thing you’d been chasing since the night you first felt the warmth of the ink in that old library?

You finally gathered all your notes and plopped down next to her again.

The woman pointed her knitting needle at a certain name on your paper.

Agatha Harkness.

Your eyes snapped to the name. Your breath caught in your throat before you looked back up, meeting her gaze.

You stared. “So… she’s real?”

The woman’s smile didn’t waver. “Realer than most things around here.”

A chill danced down your spine.

That’s when the bus screeched to a halt.

You looked out the window.

You were here. You’d made it.

Quickly, you tucked your notes into your bag, grabbed your duffel, and made sure you hadn’t left anything behind.

The woman stood to get off the bus, and you quickly followed.

“W-wait,” you called out, hurrying after her. “Ma’am, can you—explain?”

What did she mean she was “realer than most things” ? Did the elderly lady live here, in Hollow Oak? If so, she had to know something. She had to know where you could find the mysterious woman who had pulled you into this search the moment you read her name.

You nearly tripped over your own feet chasing after the woman—who, for some reason, had apparently gained super speed after getting off the bus. Or maybe it was just because you’d stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds while she disappeared.

Either way, you needed more answers.

But when you finally stepped off the bus… she was gone.

You glanced around a few more times as the bus pulled away—but nothing. No sign of her.

“What the hell,” you muttered under your breath, slowly adjusting your duffle bag on your shoulder.

You took a moment to glance around the small, unfamiliar town. It was charming, in that slightly eerie, storybook kind of way—quaint but worn. The pavement beneath your feet was cracked in places, with tufts of moss and weeds pushing their way through. A soft bluish tint colored everything from the last light of the sun setting over the rooftops.

You looked down the quiet street and spotted a few independent shops, the kind that clearly hadn’t changed in years. On the corner, a small bookstore sat cozily tucked next to what looked like a coffee shop, both sharing a weathered sign hanging between them. It gave off that witchy New England meets Pinterest board kind of vibe.

As if you didn’t have a weakness for those.

You and Billy had practically hunted down every small coffee shop within a twenty mile radius back in Washington.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips at the memory, before turning toward the shop. Maybe a warm cup of coffee—or hot chocolate—would help take the edge off the cold air that clung to Hollow Oak like a second skin.

---

There you sat for the past thirty minutes, nursing a hot chocolate you finally settled on—figuring you wouldn’t be up too late tonight anyway. Well, with the time difference, that might be tricky… but you didn’t mind.

Being here was worth it. For your research.

And…

For her.

As always, you tucked yourself away in the far corner of the café, your favorite kind of spot—dim lighting, soft music, no one watching. You flicked through your notes and some pictures you had printed off at the library back in Washington.

That woman had said Agatha was real. Which meant this might not be a wild goose chase after all.

…Unless she was crazy.

And at this rate? You might be too.

You’d already called the little hotel in town while you sipped your drink, reserving a room.

“Maybe I’ll approach her in the morning?” you muttered, pulling out your notebook to sketch out a rough plan, scribbling between the margins and scrubbing out what no longer made sense.

You were in her town now. And the urge to search for the dark haired woman was almost too much to bear.

But the sun had set. It was night now. And there was no way in hell you were venturing into the woods in the dark to find a ghost. Or a witch. Or whatever she was. You still didn’t know if it was even the same woman who kept showing up in odd places throughout history.

You furrowed your brows, chewing on your nails. “Hmm… maybe if I try in the morning. Or afternoon. In case she’s not a morning person…”

You couldn’t help but wonder what she was like.

Would Agatha be kind?

Would she answer your every question, indulge your little historian brain, explain the mystery of how one woman could possibly exist across centuries? Or maybe she was a historian herself?

The possibilities made your chest buzz.

You finished off your hot chocolate slowly, letting the warmth settle into your bones. Then, gathering your notes, you headed toward the hotel with your plan gradually coming together.

Step One : Make sure the coordinates you have now match up.

Step Two: Ask around town. Casually. Respectfully.

Step Three: Go at a reasonable hour. No dramatic ambushes in the woods.

…And then what?

You couldn’t exactly demand answers. Or throw your notes at her like some conspiracy obsessed stalker. No. That was a terrible idea.

Maybe you could just… go with the flow?

Yeah. Like that’s ever worked out for you.

Eventually, you made your way to the hotel and checked in at the front desk. The woman handed you a literal key—no card swipe, just oldschool metal and a creaky brass tag with your room number.

Figures.

You stepped into the room, which immediately smelled faintly of mildew, but you waved it off. “Whatever. It’s an old town,” you muttered, dropping your bag and flopping down onto the bed.

You stared at the ceiling, brow furrowed in thought—a habit you never quite shook.

“Okay… I’ll go to her house,” you whispered aloud. “Say some people in town told me where she lived. So I don’t seem like a total creep. Maybe mention that I've read her book…”

You nodded to yourself.

“Boom. Conversation starter.”

With a final breath of resolve, you sprang up to pull on your pajamas, your voice still narrating your master plan.

I’ve got this.

And with that, you climbed under the scratchy quilt in the Hollow Oak hotel room, your notes safely stashed beside you and your thoughts still spiraling around the woman whose name had pulled you across the country.

Tomorrow, you'll find her.

---

You were currently hiking up a narrow trail, your boots crunching softly on damp gravel and fallen leaves.

So… about your grand plan?

You might have, uh, skipped the whole “talk to the town” step.

And maybe also the “double-check the coordinates” part.

Small details.

It was around 11 a.m.—a perfectly reasonable time, right?

You were an early riser anyway. Though, to be fair, you had no idea how people on the East Coast operated. Maybe they slept in till noon or held weird forest brunches. Who knew?

The sky was overcast this morning, the clouds gradually shifting to a deeper gray—hinting at rain to come. But you didn’t care. You’d grown up in Washington. And honestly? You hate to admit it, but Twilight was right. It basically never stops raining there.

Eventually, you reached an old moss covered stone bridge. Not as decrepit as you'd imagined, but still weathered enough to send a faint chill down your spine.

Your bag bounced lightly against your side, full as always with notes, research, and of course— her book.

You sniffled, your nose cold in the breeze, and reviewed the directions you'd memorized:

Turn left at the old stone bridge, take the path lined with willows, and cross the stream that never runs dry…

You slowly scanned the area, trying to spot anything resembling willow trees. The bridge was here—but—

Your thoughts were abruptly cut short by a sharp caw! and the rush of wings near your head.

“Jesus—!” you yelped, stumbling back as a crow swept past you, close enough to make your hair flutter. Heart thudding, you stood frozen for a beat, trying to breathe through the spike of adrenaline.

Every instinct screamed leave .

Naturally, you ignored it.

You turned to watch where the crow had flown—and that’s when you saw it.

To your left a path Lind by willows, their long tendrils swaying like ancient curtains in the breeze.

And the crow? Perched smugly on a low branch, head tilted at you. Like it was judging you. Or wondering what a stranger like you was doing in a place like this.

You adjusted your bag, and lifted your chin. With as much confidence as you could summon, you strode toward the path like you belonged there.

The trail was quiet, save for the distant trickle of water and the occasional rustle of leaves. About five minutes in, the smell of fresh water hit you—and then you saw it, a stream, not large, but swift. The kind that had been running long before roads were built.

You spotted a small wooden bridge crossing it. A faint smile tugged at your lips. This was it.

Of course, just as you stepped forward, that same damn crow flew overhead again. Not as close this time, but still watching. Always watching.

You hesitated only a second before pressing on, head high, marching over the bridge like it hadn’t startled the soul out of you twice already.

The trail climbed slightly, winding upward through the trees until it finally broke into a clearing.

And there it was.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

The house.

Your eyes traced its outline, taking in every strange, breathtaking detail.

It wasn’t modern. Not even close.

It looked like something ripped from another century—Victorian in style, with narrow towers and steep gables that reached for the sky like bony fingers. The wood siding, once a rich slate gray, had faded from years of wind and sun. The tall, narrow windows were paned with old, slightly warped glass that shimmered strangely in the light.

But it wasn’t falling apart.

In fact, it was... well kept .

The garden out front looked chaotic at first glance—wild flowers blooming in a mess of color. But the longer you stared, the more you noticed a kind of intentional beauty.

Roses tangled through trellises. Foxglove and violets dancing against each other in impossible harmony.

Things blooming out of season. Or maybe it just felt that way.

There were signs of life here. The porch had been swept. The shutters, while faded, weren’t broken. A wind chime hung by the door—but didn’t chime . It swayed slightly in the breeze, completely silent.

Your chest tightened.

There was something about the house—about this entire place—that made you feel like you were being watched.

Like the house itself was waiting.

You knew from your research that this property had been purchased only a few years ago—back in 2022. No online photos. No documented renovations. No blog posts or digital paper trail.

Just a name.

Agatha Harkness.

With a shuddering breath, you strode forward through the grass, wildflowers brushing against your ankles, until your boots hit a paved gravel path that led directly to the front door of the looming house.

One step in front of the other… you can do it, you told yourself.

Before you even realized it—or were remotely ready for it—you’d climbed the creaking steps to her porch.

You’d made it.

You looked up at the purple front door, a color that felt too deliberate to be random. Drawing in a breath, you glanced around like that damn crow might come swooping back at the last second. Then, slowly, your hand raised and you knocked—three times. Each knock firmer than the last, like you were trying to hammer courage into yourself.

Nothing. Just silence.

Except for your own ragged breathing.

You waited a few more seconds, heart thudding in your chest.

“Maybe she didn’t hear it,” you muttered under your breath, extending your hand again. You barely made it through the first two knockswhen—

The door swung open.

Mid-knock.

You stumbled forward slightly, catching yourself with an awkward foot shuffle, trying to pretend that didn’t just happen. A flush of embarrassment bloomed across your cheeks as you took a quick step back and cleared your throat, gaze pointed toward the floor while you scrambled to form a sentence that wouldn’t make you sound like a total idiot.

“Hello, my name is—”

“You’re trespassing.”

The words hit you like a cold slap.

Her voice was smooth, but raspy. Confident. And completely unimpressed. Not even a sliver of warmth. Flat. Snippy. The kind of voice that made you feel two inches tall.

So… she wasn’t sweet.

Got it.

Your eyes finally lifted to meet hers—and just like that, whatever you’d meant to say dissolved in your throat.

She looked older than you'd expected—nothing like the youthful image in that Titanic-era photo you’d seen online. No, she looked like she was somewhere in her forties, maybe a little older, Not that you were complaining one bit…

She was stunning, but in that intimidating, magnetic kind of way that made you feel like prey. Her blue eyes locked on yours—not violet like the stories you'd found in books and online, but piercing nonetheless. Icy, sharp, assessing. Like she already knew exactly who you were, why you were here, and just how ill prepared you really were.

You scanned her face—high, arching brows, the slope of her nose, the faint smirk tugging at one corner of her lips like she was already bored with you. Her skin was smooth but not flawless—lined just enough to tell you she had lived through things most people wouldn’t dare imagine.

And then there was her hair. Wavy, thick, and impossibly dark. It spilled over her shoulders in relaxed waves, slightly tousled like she’d just run her fingers through it while reading on the couch.

Which… judging by her outfit, she probably had been.

She wore a long, slightly oversized cardigan you’d kill to borrow. that draped around her like a cloak, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, showing off the veins that ran from her hands up her arms. Your mouth about watered at the sight.

You were not prepared for this. You were so not prepared for this.

Underneath, a loose black top and matching soft pants—comfortable, cozy, and effortlessly stylish. The entire ensemble looked like it had cost far too much money to be called “loungewear,” but she wore it like it was nothing.

The only accessory was a single ring—chunky, silver, and old—glinting faintly on her right index finger as she leaned casually against the doorframe.

The way she looked at you?

Like you were the worst interruption she’d had all week.

Your eyes widen and you lick your lips as they suddenly felt dry. You meet her eyes once more.

“I-I'm looking for an Agatha? Or- well i'm not like a creep I just-” Agatha only scoffed. Eyeing you up and down in an unimpressed way.

Her gaze dragged over you with the precision of someone who had already decided you were a waste of time. She didn’t bother to hide it.

“There’s no Agatha here,” she said, voice crisp and final. She began to close the door.

Panic flared in your chest. No, no, no, no, no! You hadn’t dragged yourself from Washington State to Hollow-fucking-Wood, Massachusetts just to get shut down on the first knock or well fifth knock… but whos counting!

Not after all the research. Not after the way her book had practically crawled into your bloodstream.

“Wait! Just—”

You fumbled your words, your bag slapping awkwardly against your hip as you gestured with both hands. “I read your book!”

The door paused. Mid-close.

She looked at you again. This time… differently.

“What book?” she said. Flat. Like she was daring you to say the wrong title.

You tried to swallow the sudden lump in your throat.

“Fire, Bone, and Silence: A Study in the Salem Trials.” You managed not to stutter, even though your heart was doing cartwheels in your chest. “You—it mentioned Hollow Wood. I’m writing my thesis and—I have it here—”

You practically tore open your bag, hands shaking just enough to be noticeable. The book was heavier than you remembered, or maybe it was just the weight of her eyes on you. You held it out like a sacred offering.

Agatha didn’t take it.

She leaned one shoulder against the doorframe instead, arms folding in that graceful, disdainful way only women over forty seemed capable of. Her gaze flicked down to the cover, then back to your face.

“Huh,” she said. “Didn’t realize anyone still read that thing.”

“I’ve read it six times,” you said too quickly. “Your insight on the court documents from Ipswich was—God, especially the Hollow Oak theory. The tree that never blooms? And your line about silence being the true beginning of the trials— ‘Silence broken by girls who were tired of being ignored’ —I think I wrote a whole section of my thesis around that alone.”

You winced as soon as the words left your mouth. Nerd alert. Disaster. You were rambling in front of a very-hot-possibly-immortal-academic ghost-woman who looked like she wanted you to leave yesterday.

She held up a hand.

“Alright,” she said, sighing like your voice physically exhausted her. “You talk too much.”

You blinked, flustered. “Right. Sorry—”

“Still doing it,” she muttered, and then the door creaked open wider.

She stared at you. Really stared. You couldn't read the expression—somewhere between mild curiosity and the look people gave raccoons digging through their trash.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked back inside.

The door remained open.

Your feet moved before your brain caught up.

“Well,” she called over her shoulder, dry as ever, “Is the little historian coming or not?”

You stepped in. You weren’t sure if it was your academic obsession or your deeply repressed taste in older women that overrode your survival instincts, but either way— you walked right across the threshold.

Next Chapter

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herbgerblin · 11 months ago

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gonna ramble about worldbuilding

:0 come play with me in this space

I've been refining old concept art of the city of my story, Spiro and Nova, (because it sits in my head always and never truly leaves.) The sunflower skyrise is a giant, flower-like skyscraper that is supposed to open and peel back to protect the city beneath it from frequent, violent storms. In the setting of the story, it has been fixed in its closed position for several years.

(I am driven a little insane by how rapidly our climate crisis has increased since 2018 when I first started thinking about this story.)

I am not a true crime girlie, but I am a horrible history girlie. I listen to a lot of construction tragedy stories and I feel angry because they're all caused by corporate greed and negligence. I also read a lot about architectural greenwashing, when a building is marketed as eco-friendly and has all the stylings of a solarpunk utopia, but is really environmentally hazardous and costly to maintain/destroy.

I'll be real, my inspirations for the city are Power Rangers RPM and Attack on Titan. As a kid, they made me ask a lot of questions about urban design: What happens when your livelihood is dependent on a single, declining structure? What happens when that structure fails to work as intended? Who is hurt by this? Who benefits?

I live in a major city that is actively destroying the very forest that it is iconic for. I've been writing about that a lot as a journalist this past year. That experience (and the pandemmy) has made this idea not yet story hit too close to home sometimes. But at the same time, that's why I don't want to let it go.

#every once in a while i do a little bit of research #i go 'that's fucked!'#and then i save it in a little file for future reference #spiro and nova #my art #herbgerbart

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edwinisms · 9 months ago

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wait yeah hold on how the hell did edwin open a door from hell to earth? like if powerful beings like the night nurse or certain demonic entities are necessary to open and close doors to other planes (especially hell where souls being trapped there is kind of the point) then what the fuck did edwin manage to pull off? did he somehow trick a demon or whatever into opening one? was one opened for one reason or another– maybe upon a demon’s return from retrieving a soul– and he timed it, booked it, and jumped in? there certainly isn’t just some constantly open ever-accessible door at the top of The Endless Staircase considering that would make hell kind of pointless. did edwin payne manage, somehow, over the span of 70 years, to figure out how to open a door from limbo/the staircase to earth by himself? am i just missing something here?

#i know (i believe?) that in the comics he doesn’t escape via his own efforts- something happens with hell as a whole and he gets yoinked out #as an unintentional byproduct if what i remember is correct #and the show rewrites that narrative completely so that it’s His persistent efforts that get him out eventually #so point is we can’t really look at the comics and get an answer from there cause. this didn’t happen in the comics #it’d be real fucking wild if he learned to open a portal himself somehow–#ohhhhhh what if that explains his specific expertise in mirror travel?#that leaves the question of where the hell he’d get the research materials to do such a thing but. that’s something that could be explained #somehow if they wanted to #every once in a while a person frozen in limbo is a magic user and he just checks and checks and checks whenever he can for any books they #might have in their bags #or maybe he learned something while with the previous demons that owned him. memorizing an incantation he hears when a portal is opened.#something like that. idk #point is it can be explained Somehow with a little bit of fanagling #I really hope i didn’t miss some huge fact in the show that explains all this and I don’t look real stupid right now #rambling #edwin #edwin payne #dead boy detectives #I should not be awake right now god help me

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phantomrose96 · 2 years ago

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Thinking about Edward Elric as the Amestrian Military's specialest little unfireable boy

State alchemists can be fired for underperforming. We know this up front from the likes of Shou Tucker. And this makes a ton of sense from the homunculi's standpoint since the state alchemists are sacrifice candidates, and the homunculi would want to cull the weakest candidates and focus only on cultivating the strongest ones who stand the best chance of opening the portal.

........Then there's Edward. Who's already opened the portal.

There's no need to cultivate him. No gamble taken on whether he's good enough to open the portal. He passed the final test already. Graduated 4 semesters early.

And as such, has a free pass to do Absolute Fuck All.

And I'm imagining how funny this is from like an outside perspective.

Some newish state alchemist who'd only ever read up on the stories of Edward Elric, ready and excited to start their career of being paid handsomely with endless freedom to research and travel and do anything they want in the pursuit of science... surprised and confused to find themselves put on probation their first month for things like "ignoring orders." Which is, as best they had thought, a famous Edward Elric pastime.

Roy showing a slight bit of stress about his yearly state alchemist report, and Ed just snorting and rolling his eyes at Roy because every year HE just hastily does his on the train ride over (canon in the manga, a travesty it was left out of the anime) and it gets rubber stamped. Ed not realizing that other alchemists' reports get genuinely scrutinized and torn apart while Ed is free to turn in whatever absolute bullshit he thinks of 36 hours ahead of time. One year his report was about whether alchemy could be done via dance (conclusion: no it can't) and no one cared. Roy WANTS to tell Ed there's some kind of unknown favoritism around Ed making him literally bullet-proof but Roy has no way to phrase this that doesn't sound like he's just in denial and mad at how good Ed's train-reports are.

Guy from the Internal Amestrian Affairs sector who's responsible for auditing other internal military personel for any suspicious activity hitting about 1 million red flags for Edward Elric, issuing a STRONG and URGENT recommendation to suspend the alchemist pending further investigation into things like "literal bunk-buddies with two members of the Xingese royalty (enemy nation)" and "spent $10,000,000 of his stipend on a librarian to make her re-copy (what he seemed to interpret as?) military records in some extremely transparent effort to unearth state secrets (it was a recipe book but he was literally asking her about state secrets)" and "literally has never once obeyed an order, ever, not even once in his career, and is on public record having said 'I do not care about the goals and protections of the Amestrian Military. I am in fact only pursuing my own interests several of which are diametrically opposed to the safety and well-being of the governing body of Amestris'"

The issued recommendation is intercepted before it even reaches its intended desk. President Bradley himself has taken issue with it and denies it before a single set of eyes has seen it. The President's veto stamp is a terrifying hammer, used rarely, and it is now sitting on the auditor's desk.

The auditor sleeps with one eye open from then on out.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #fma:b #literally anything about the dynamic between edward and the amestrian government is so so so funny to me #im begging you to come pick up your alchemist he keeps committing treason #Roy: absolute perfect ass-kisser and career-man playing the part 24/7 to disguise his treasonous ambitions and still #not flying under the radar #Edward on his public Twitter: bored. might tear down the Amestrian government for fun.

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angstyentropy · 1 month ago

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Previous part

While cleaning up Jason heard a knock on his door so he got up and looked through the peephole. Why is Dick here? After mentally preparing himself for social interaction he opened the door. "What're you doing here?"

"What? Don't want to see me?" There's his stupid smile again.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not when you show up at my safe house without warning, one of these days you're going to lead someone right to me, safe houses are supposed to be secret y'know?"

Dick walked in and looked around the place. "Sorry, Little wing"

"If you're going to stay here atleast help me clean" Jason tossed a broom his way.

Dick didn't complain- a small blessing -so Jason walked to the kitchen and started putting things away. A few minutes later he worked his way back to the living room, where Dick was still sweeping for some reason. Is he sweeping with one hand?

"It's a lot easier if you use both hands Dickhead" Dick turned around and his sleeve rode up his arm just enough for Jason to see a bit of white peak out. Jason stalked forward and ignored whatever it was Dick said in favor of pulling his sleeve up to reveal bandages.

"What the hell Dickhead, you're injured?!" Jason was suddenly wishing Dick had complained when he asked him to clean.

"It's just a broken arm"

Jason narrowed his eyes. "Then why isn't it in a cast?"

Dick's smile faltered a little. "I didn't go to the cave yesterday" That explains why Alfred didn't give him a cast but it opened a whole nother can of questions.

"Why didn't you go to the cave?"

"Didn't want to see B, you'd know the feeling" Jason does, he knows it better than anyone else.

"Did you get into a fight?"

"No -just didn't want him to know something" Everything Dick said just gave Jason more and more questions.

"Fine keep your secrets" Jason pulled out his own med kit and spent the next half hour redoing Dick's bandages and nagging him about not telling him sooner. He wouldn't push anything just yet, he wanted to do some research first.

---

Jason looked into whatever caused Dick to break his arm but there wasn't any clues, he'd even spoke about it to Tim to purposefully peak his curiosity and get him to look into it. Tim had found out it'd been caused by a fall but not much else. Bruce acted the same way too, he's hit a dead end so the next thing to do is get information from the source.

Jason observed Dick for a few months, most of the time he acted normally but every once in a while he noticed Dick become more quiet, less focused. He didn't know if it was related to what he wanted to keep Bruce from knowing but he investigated it anyway.

He noticed that sometimes Dick would wait for others to interact with him before doing so himself, everytime he did that he'd send him an unsure look. Those weren't the only times Dick sent him that look though, it was getting concerning.

Does he think I'd get mad? Is he scared of me? It'd make sense to wait for others to interact with him if Dick was judging his mood, it'd also explain the looks. Am I really that bad of a brother?

There were still so many questions, why did Dick only act like that some of the time? What is he keeping from Bruce? Did he do anything to make Dick so cautious? It hurt his brain so Jason decided to get it over with and confront him.

Dick was talking to himself inside his apartment, Jason didn't care about what. He slipped into the window and waved. Dick gave him a look, it looked reminiscent of one he couldn't place half a year ago but now? Jason knew it was Panic and... Fear.

I was right, he's scared of me.

Jason didn't approach, he gave a smile too. It was forced but hopefully it'd make Dick calm down. Dick didn't calm down, if anything he looked more panicked, his eyes darted between Jason and a spot near the hall.

Dick's behaviour was similar to one of a cornered animal ready to run and it made Jason sick. How could he have missed this?

Here goes nothing. "I'm not mad at you, I don't know what I did to make you think that but I'm not."

"What do you mean?"

He should've expected him to not admit it. "For months you've been hesitant to interact with me, you observe my movements, you keep acting strangely. I'm not going to attack you! ...sorry for whatever I did"

Jason knew that wasn't how they were trained to act in these situations but he just couldn't stay calm right now. He accidentally knocked into a chair in Dick's living room, Dick's eyes snapped to the furniture. Dick seemed relieved? Dick glanced back to the hall and finally started walking towards him.

What just happened? Dick hugged him. "I'm not scared of you, Little Wing"

"Then why?"

Dick squeezed just a bit tighter. "I can't tell you"

"So you are scared of me"

Dick shook his head. "No, I'm not. Just- I have hallucinations... of you" Jason pulled out of the hug and looked for any hints of dishonesty. This had to be a lie. "I've been acting weird cause I didn't know if you were real"

Jason's brain shut down, Dick's eyes were so full of sincerity, it made sense. It wasn't supposed to make sense.

"I'll have to tell the others"

"I know"

"You can't keep shit like that a secret"

"I know"

"You're not leaving my sight"

"Can we atleast cuddle in the bedroom?" Jason nodded into Dick's shoulder.

Dick couldn't have felt more love for his brother and Jason happily welcomed the cuddles into his life if it helped Dick with his hallucinations.

#Fluff #cuddles #I needed to add them after the angst #this was so hard to write for no reason #I rewrote that last sentence about 20 times #Don't know if I like this post tbh #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #hallucinations #angst #batfamily #richard grayson #batman #batkids #fanfic

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spideyjimin · 4 months ago

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Bloodlines entwined: I | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 7,213

— warnings: strong language, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of blood, several mentions of abortion, and crying

— author’s note: here it is the first chapter of this series! <3 i’m actually very excited about this entire universe, i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve been taking my time to write each part 🤗 the beginning is inspired by Jane the Virgin and the Flash as they are both my favorite shows ✨ i hope you’ll enjoy this part & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 😊

taglist is closed!

Chapter I: when worlds collide

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Sitting in your car, you’ve been looking blinkingly at the windshield, hands trembling against the steering wheel. For ten whole minutes, you’ve been frozen like this as if moving would shatter the fragile sense of calm you’ve barely managed to hold together.

Your life is about to drastically change; you know it deep down.

“The deed is done,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, and your reflection in the rearview mirror catches your eye. You look exhausted, your eyes wide and glistening.

For two years, this moment has been building. You have thoughtfully considered having a child on your own. At first, it was just a random thought that crossed your mind, a curiosity born on one of those quiet, lonely moments where life felt both too much and not enough. Then, you deeply thought about it. The idea rooted itself deep within you, anchoring into something raw and tender: a longing to create a family on your own terms.

After much research and consideration, you decided to go for it.

Many people couldn’t understand your choice, but honestly, you don’t give two shits about others’ opinions. What did matter to you was the support of close family and friends.

Felix, the man who raised you after your parents were stolen from you, proposed to accompany you to the fertility clinic, but you gently declined his offer. This was something you wanted to do by yourself. Well, you just came alone to be inseminated. Other than that, he has been by your side every step of the way.

He helped you to go through the countless donor profiles, and every document needed for this adventure of yours.

The process was a bit long and emotionally draining. The first steps were more like an evaluation, mostly for the clinic to understand your reasons and ensure you’ve deeply thought about all the aspects. Having a kid alone isn’t just about fulfilling your dreams but also about building a life for a child.

Once you’ve successfully completed those steps, you had to choose the donor. There were a lot of choices; it was like going grocery shopping. You were handed a catalog of potential donors with their medical histories and first names. It felt odd to be choosing the progenitor like this. After going through every profile, one of them stood out.

Following the donor selection, your cycles and hormone levels were tracked. When all was good, you’d get inseminated on your ovulation period, which technically is happening this week.

So, ten minutes ago, you walked out of the clinic after being artificially knocked up.

If your egg is fertilized, in nine months, you’ll welcome your very much desired baby. A tiny human who will call you mom. You already picked the names, one for a girl, one for a boy. You simply can’t wait to welcome a tiny human in your life. Hopefully, the life of your baby will be better than yours.

You lean your head against the steering wheel, closing your eyes as the ghosts of your past surface.

Twenty years ago, your life was turned upside down when a terrible murderer put an end to your parents’ lives. Nobody ever found him or her; it’s like the person completely vanished into the night. That person left behind a little girl with questions nobody could ever answer and scars nobody could understand.

Since you didn’t have any family left, you were raised by your father’s best friend, Felix. Over time, he became like a second father to you. Even though you were full of anger when he took you over, he stayed by your side and helped you navigate this sad reality; one where your parents weren’t part of anymore.

His daughter, Lexi is your age. You were already so close, and living under the same roof brought you even closer. She’s your super best friend, almost like a sister today. A smile grows on your face as you think of her. Your life would have been a nightmare without her.

Lexi was the first person to be aware of this desire to become a single mother. She even pushed you to do it as soon as you could, and she has encouraged you like nobody else. She also helped you select a donor; she even made fun of the names of some of them.

Your phone buzzes; the name and picture of Lexi appearing on the screen.

“Hi,” you say when you pick up.

“Soo,” she says. “How did it go?”

“Good, I guess?” you say with clear hesitation. “The doctor just inserted a thin catheter, looked at the screen, and said it was done,” you explain. “Now we just have to wait.”

Waiting is now the worst part, especially since you decided not to take any pregnancy test until the next appointment. Meaning, you have to wait two full weeks.

“Let’s hope the donor’s little swimmers are good ones,” she says.

While you always wanted to have a kid, Lexi never wanted one. You and her are total opposites but that’s what helped create such a strong bond between you. “Yeah, let’s hope for that,” you smile.

Two weeks later

A couple of days ago, you took a blood test, and now, you’re in the waiting room, patiently waiting for the doctor to call you up.

These past two weeks, you’ve been internally battling to take a pregnancy test. It’s been hard to fight the urge to discover beforehand if you’re expecting or not. On your way to the clinic, your heart was beating extremely fast with nervousness. Even the music playing in the car didn’t seem to calm you down.

Even though you’re extremely nervous, a part of you knows. You can’t explain it, but you feel it deep down. Two nights ago, you were lying in bed completely exhausted after an intense day at work. The rhythm of your heartbeat was rocking you to sleep. Amidst the thrum of your own heart, you swear you could hear a faint, smaller, and quicker rhythm.

You instantly opened your eyes, scanning the room. The sound wasn’t coming from outside. It felt like it was inside you. You stayed perfectly still, listening to that tiny sound. That night, you were rocked to sleep by that new rhythm.

The morning after, as you caught your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, something felt off. Your brows furrowed as you noticed your own scent was different. It felt like it was mixed with somebody else’s scent, but it wasn’t as strong as yours or any other living human. It was extremely odd.

After a little while, the doctor says your name, and with shaky legs, you walk to her office. Your heart is beating at a very crazy pace, ready to burst at any moment. This is so stressful; it feels like time is moving so slowly.

“Hello yn,” the doctor smiles at you while you’re entering the room. “How have you been feeling?” you now take a seat.

“I’m good, thanks,” you smile back at her.

She sits down at her desk and takes a look at her computer.

“So, did you take any pregnancy test?” she asks.

“No, no,” you answer. “I wanted to keep the surprise for today.”

“I see,” she looks again at her screen before taping on her keyboard.

She seems to quickly read something before her smile widens. Your heart is going completely crazy. It really makes you nervous, and you try to mentally prepare yourself to receive the bad news as well. It’ll definitely break your heart but you’ll try again.

This entire process is quite expensive, but the payment can be spread out over time rather than made in one shot. With this first payment, you have the right to three attempts. If pregnancy isn’t achieved after those attempts, you’ll have to go through another round and pay for additional attempts.

The doctor mentioned that usually, it takes about three to six attempts to achieve a successful pregnancy. Hopefully, you’ll get pregnant within those first three tries. You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to afford another round of insemination.

“Well, it looks like it only took you one try to conceive,” she informs you.

And right there, your heart bursts with joy. There’s indeed a little human being growing inside you. You’ll become a mother in nine months. You can’t believe it.

A little tear runs down your face as you hear the good news. It’s such a relief. You won't have to worry about coming back for another round.

“That’s good news,” you clean the tear on your cheek.

“It is indeed,” she says. “In four weeks more or less, we’ll plan an ultrasound to confirm the embryo’s implantation and check for a heartbeat,” she adds.

Well, you’ll still get worried about that because maybe until there, your baby will not survive. But you need to remain positive. No need to start stressing about it; you promised yourself that you’ll try to remain calm the entirety of the process and pregnancy so you’ll offer a great beginning of life to your baby.

“I’m very hopeful everything will go well because both you and the donor are in good health,” she says.

“Let’s hope for that,” you answer.

You then proceed to schedule the next appointment in four weeks. You can’t hide the immense smile on your face. This is the best news you got today. Nothing else will ever be possible to ruin this day.

When you leave the clinic, you instantly call Lexi.

“I AM PREGNANT!” you scream with excitement.

“Yeeeah,” she screams as well. “I’m going to be an aunty!” she adds.

“I’m so relieved that this first attempt was successful,” you admit.

Once you get inside your car, you touch your belly to caress it.

“That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother,” she says after. “And even more lucky to join our family.”

For sure, your family will extremely love this baby. It’s such a desired baby, and everybody has been so excited.

“They’ll be so loved,” you reply.

“There’s absolutely no doubt,” she says. “Dad will be so happy about this news; he’s been so excited to become a grandpa.”

Felix has expressed lately that he couldn’t wait to welcome a baby and become a granddad. This man has raised you for twenty years, and you consider him as a second father. There’s no doubt that your baby will see him as their grandfather even if, biologically speaking, he isn’t.

When you hang up, you stare into the void for a couple of minutes. In this moment, you wish your parents would be here. They would have been so happy to become grandparents, but they won’t be by your side for this new chapter of your life.

They are also the reason why you’re doing all of this. Since they passed, there’s been a tremendous emptiness inside you that even the love of Felix couldn’t fill in. This void stems mostly from the fact that you were left alone when they were killed. You’ve been feeling so lonely since then.

Throughout your life, you tried to fill it with relationships but they all failed. As far as you can remember, you wanted to follow the traditional path to build a family. However, it never worked out. Then, one day, you saw a brochure about single mothers, and you’ve been thinking about it since then.

You’ve seen motherhood as a role that will fill this emotional void you’ve been carrying for years. Plus, you’ve also seen it as a way to finally control your life. Twenty years ago, someone decided for you what your life would become. This wasn’t fair.

And you also want to give your baby the life you never got. You want to give them a loving family that won’t disappear the second the parents die. Outside of your parents, you didn’t have a family. Based on what Felix told you, your grandparents were against your parents' relationship so they moved into another city to live freely and build a family.

Life hasn’t been fair for you, but you want to make it fair for your baby.

Two weeks later

The clinic called you this morning to urgently come in the afternoon, only making you grow concerned during the day. You kept wondering what the reason for such urgency would be. Did they notice something when they did the blood test? Did they get the wrong blood test? Are you even really pregnant?

However, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re carrying a life inside you. You haven’t had the ‘normal’ early symptoms yet, but you can feel your baby inside you. The faint heartbeat can still be heard, and there’s still that subtle scent interwoven with yours.

For the past two weeks, you’ve repeatedly inhaled this new scent, almost to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Most of the time, you wondered if it wasn’t something like blood, sweat, or the smell of your new shampoo. It was definitely an earthly one. One that only a human can possess.

Once inside the clinic, you’re instantly installed in the doctor’s room. Your heart is crazily beating inside your chest; you’re so nervous right now. Seconds later, a man joins you in the room.

At first glance, you’d think he is the CEO of a huge company. He’s fully dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, his hands casually placed in his pants pockets. This man is extremely charismatic; something about him draws you in.

The man looks at you while frowning, his eyes moving from your eyes to your belly. By reflex, you cover your stomach with your hands. He’s making you uncomfortable with his intense stare.

He has a very strong bestial scent, it predominates his cologne. Everything about him is imposing, even the way his heart beats; it’s so calm while yours is completely erratic. The man’s eyes are clued on you.

The doctor arrives right after and closes the door behind her. Her face is quite serious; she even seems concerned.

“Miss y/l/n,” she takes a seat at her desk. “Mister Jeon,” she looks at the man behind you. “Please take a seat.”

The two of you sit down next to each other with apprehension. You can hear his heart beating a little faster, but he remains extremely calm on the outside.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The doctor pauses, giving you time to absorb the gravity of the statement. Her tone is gentle, but at the same time professional.

The sterile, cold walls of the room seem to close in around you as the doctor’s words pierce through your thoughts.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” your breath is caught in your throat, your hands trembling. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

Your eyes look at the man sitting next to you. All you can see in his eyes is the same disbelief that reflects your own. So, this is your child’s father.

Many questions cross your mind, but they remain unspoken, lodged in your throat.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

You desired nothing more than being alone in this adventure; you didn’t want a present father. That was the whole point of a donor. Now, you know the father of your child, and he’d probably like to be present.

For the past months, you went through a series of questions regarding the fact that you’ll raise your child alone. They asked you many times how you’d explain to your child that they don’t have a father. This now feels like a complete waste of time.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment’s costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

Those words seem so heavy and yet, they represent the reality of the choice you now have to face. A knot tightens in your stomach at the thought of undoing something you wished for so long. The baby is now growing inside of you, you’ve got used to falling asleep with their tiny heartbeat. The only thought of not having it anymore breaks your heart beyond comprehension.

Right now, everything—your carefully constructed plans, your hopes, the small life growing inside you—seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Mister Jeon is silent beside you, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He seems as stunned as you, but you can’t help but think that there’s something else there too. Something deeper and darker.

You ignore if he’s thinking the same thing as you, but you can feel it: the strange twist of fate pulling you both into an unknown world, one you both hadn’t planned for.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

Time seems irrelevant now. There’s a choice you need to make; a choice you didn’t expect to face. You swallow hard, your heart racing inside your chest. Your hands caress your belly through your shirt while you only hear the baby’s fragile heartbeat.

This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t be real.

Jungkook’s face went pale as the doctor’s words sank in.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

Just like you, the room’s white walls feel suffocating, the air thick with a tension he can’t shake. A mistake. His mistake. He tried to avoid this situation. He was supposed to go through surrogacy to guarantee a child that would uphold his lineage. His werewolf lineage, pure and untouched by human blood.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” the doctor’s words hang up in the air like a death sentence. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

His eyes quickly look at you, and he notices how much you’re shaking. It seems like you’re in a more devasted state than he is.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

Jungkook blinks, trying to absorb what is happening. A human child. Nonetheless, his child. Having children with humans isn’t just a personal choice; it’s a fundamental rule of the werewolf society. The very foundation of his power as the king depends on the purity of his bloodline. To break the rule is to risk everything.

He knows better than anyone what happens to the werewolf-human hybrid kids together with the parents. They are killed by the pack. Being a king doesn’t make him the exception to the rule. If this pregnancy goes to full term, not only will he be killed, but the baby and the lady sitting next to him will too.

You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t deserve to die because of a mistake.

His gaze filled with frustration and panic moves toward you once more as his pulse quickens. He wanted control over the situation. He never intended to father a hybrid child. And now, not only is he involved in this pregnancy, but the child is going to carry his blood mixed with human genetics. God only knows what can happen to this kid, genetically speaking.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

‘This can’t be happening’, he thinks.

His eyes move back to the doctors, his hands clenched into fists. The thought of the entire werewolf community learning of this is unbearable. And what is his mother going to think of this?

She was the first person to support him in this surrogacy journey. She knew how important it was for him to have a child as soon as possible because he’d been struggling to find someone with whom he’d mate. Having an heir is the first thing a king should do to ensure the legacy.

Now, he’s about to have a child with a human. That’s not possible. This child won’t have a pure bloodline, this child can’t ever be an heir.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

The idea of termination seems dreadful, but the possibility of a hybrid child heir seems even worse. His responsibility as king, and the traditions that have been in place for centuries don’t allow for such breach. To raise a kid with human blood would mean instant disgrace, not only for him but for his entire family. How could he even be respected after this?

His entire world is slipping through his fingers. His position as king is now in jeopardy. This baby will destabilize the entire werewolf community. Nobody will respect him and will only see him as weak. Weak for having a human child.

There’s no going back. His mind tries to find a solution to fix this, or how to undo this. The idea of raising a child with a human—no matter how much it is his responsibility—is unthinkable. He never desired this and hasn’t even considered it. He has been so focused on maintaining his bloodline that the idea of a mistake happening never crossed his mind.

Your presence beside him destabilizes him beyond comprehension. He can see the confusion in your eyes mixed with disbelief. You can’t comprehend the extension of this entire problem. You can’t even comprehend the danger of mixing bloodlines, because you aren’t a werewolf.

Jungkook stands in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Terminating this pregnancy isn’t something he desires, but having a child with a human is simply impossible. His heart beats too crazily, and he can hear yours beating just as fast. His heart and duty are pulling him in two different directions.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. His voice is soft but it carries a heavy weight. “We need to decide. This affects both of us.”

After what felt like an eternity, you both leave the room completely shaken up by the news you just got. How could this be happening?

As you’re both walking in the clinic in the parking lot’s direction, none of you dares to speak. You’re a complete stranger to Jungkook. All he knows is that you’re a human carrying his child.

“I can’t have that child,” he finally breaks the silence.

His words cause you to stop.

“It’s too early for me to consider terminating this pregnancy,” you admit. “I need time.”

Jungkook understands your perspective. It’s not a decision you lightly take, especially if you’ve come to this clinic to have a child. It’d be completely absurd to abort after going through this entire process.

“Of course,” he says. “But I want you to know my point of view.”

You nod, understanding his perspective as well. This is such a horrible situation. Jungkook wanted to have an heir while you simply wanted to have a child on your own. On top of that, he doesn’t look like the donor you selected.

“So if I decide to keep it, would you be out?” you ask.

Jungkook considers your words. There’s a possibility that the baby could still exist, but he wouldn’t be part of their life. He’d still be losing because he wants a child, but at least this way, his position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and no one would get hurt or killed.

“It’s possible,” he honestly answers.

You nod once more. Even though he decides not to be part of his child’s life, he’d still know that he has a kid somewhere. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding you; he already knows your smell, and he has the means to find you.

“Okay,” you say.

Jungkook watches you take a pen and paper from your purse before writing something.

“This is my phone number,” you hand him the piece of paper. “In case you change your mind or take a decision.”

The man takes the piece of paper while you give him a small smile. You start walking away, his eyes following you until you disappear inside a car.

In this situation, he definitely would like to ask his mother for advice, but he can’t. He already knows the answer she’ll give him. ‘This baby can’t exist.’ And she’s right, but he can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy. It’s your body after all.

In the eventuality that you decide to proceed with the pregnancy, he guesses he’ll let you be a mother alone and pretend like this kid doesn’t exist.

You’ve spent the last two days crying in bed. The conversation with the doctor and this mysterious Mister Jeon has been playing over and over in your head. You can still picture everything so clearly; the white walls of the doctor’s room, the apologies from the doctor, and Mister Jeon’s piercing gaze.

‘There’s been a mistake,’ ‘There was a mix-up with the sample,’ the words still echo in your mind.

You’ve been trying to make sense of how such a monumental mistake has happened. But nothing seems to make sense. The clinic did this; the clinic took control over your decision. This chapter of your life was about you gaining control, but once more, someone decided for you. It’s been making you angry.

You’re furious at the clinic and their negligence. You trusted them with your project of building your own family. However, they decided otherwise.

But underneath that anger, there’s another fury; one directed to yourself. You were so focused on having a child on your own terms that you didn’t stop to consider the what-ifs. You didn’t stop to consider that something might go wrong. And now, you are here.

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours now, your mind trying to find a solution. Do you keep this baby? Do you terminate the pregnancy?

This choice feels impossible. It feels like no matter what your life will completely change.

But deep down, you somehow feel some kind of relief. Because when Mister Jeon—this intense and charismatic man—said there was a possibility he’d walk away, that he’d leave you to raise this child alone, you felt lighter.

His potential absence is appealing. It aligns with your original choice, to be a single mother. A choice where your child is yours, and yours alone. But then, there’s also a possibility where he stays, or that he comes back later. What would happen then?

You press your hands against your face while a guttural growl leaves your lips. This is so damn frustrating. This should be simple. Because now, you’re left wondering what you want. Do you want to walk away from this and stick to the original plan? Or do you want to embrace this chaos, and see where this might lead?

Your hands slide down to your stomach, caressing it while you hear again the tiny heartbeat. This sound comforts you which makes you close your eyes.

For now, you don’t have any answers to all your questions. You’re not even sure you’ll have them tomorrow. For now, you’ll let yourself breathe. You’ll let yourself feel. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the answers.

The sound of your phone ringing pushes you out of your own thoughts, informing you that you received a message. You sit on your bed before grabbing the phone on the nightstand. You received a message from an unknown number. By curiosity, you unlock your phone to read it. To your surprise, it’s the famous and mysterious Mister Jeon.

From unknown: hi miss y/l/n, this is jeon jungkook, the father of your child. i’d like to meet you to discuss the matter. would you be free tonight?

Your heart hammers inside your chest, ready to burst at any second. He contacted you sooner than expected. You were thinking that you wouldn’t hear anything from him for at least a week. You thought you’d have more time to make a decision before meeting him. Now, it seems you don’t, and that you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him tonight.

With shaky hands, you start typing your answer.

To unknown: hello mister jeon, we could meet tonight

When you press ‘send’, you stare at the conversation, waiting for an answer. Mister Jeon responds instantly to your message, proposing to meet in a town square. You accept the suggestion and quickly go to your clothes cupboard to pick up an outfit.

The man seems very impressive, and you want to be presentable. He’s after all the progenitor of the life growing inside you.

A couple of hours later, you take the road to the meeting point. Surprisingly, you’ve remained calm for the entire drive. Driving is actually the only thing able to calm your tormented soul. Whenever you go through something very intense, you just drive to clear your mind.

However, since this pregnancy thing, even driving hasn’t been able to help you out. You tried to drive yesterday, but it only made things worse. So it definitely surprises you that you’ve been able to clear your mind before meeting Mister Jeon.

When you arrive, he’s already there waiting for you. He’s not wearing a suit, quite the contrary. His outfit is only made of a grey sweater with a blue pair of jeans. His hair isn’t perfectly pushed back as it was two days ago. It feels like you’re meeting a completely different person.

When he sees you, he stands up. As he does so, you notice he holds a box in his right hand. It’s a small one, but it still intrigues you.

“Good evening, miss y/l/n,” he says.

“Good evening, mister Jeon,” you say back.

His presence is still very imposing, but the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit anymore changes it a bit. He seems more approachable than he was in the clinic.

“Please call me Jungkook,” he offers you a small smile.

It’s the first time you see him smiling, and it feels like a very warm one. Beneath it all and in the midst of the city noise, you can perceive his heartbeat. It’s quite rapid which makes you tilt your head. Is he nervous?

“You can call me yn as well,” you smile back at him.

“I’ve brought you a box with some pastries,” he hands you the box. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Your smile grows wider at his simple but heartwarming gesture. This wasn’t expected, but it lightens the mood. Jungkook seems to be a nice person which contrasts with the cold and unreadable person he seemed two days ago.

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the little box. “You didn’t need to,” your eyes look up at him.

After that, you both sit down on the bench he was on before you arrived. By the way he rubs his hands on his tights, you can tell that he’s a bit nervous. You try not to overanalyze him, because you know your mind will go crazy, full of questions.

“What is happening is really crazy,” he admits with obvious nervousness. “I never imagined things would go this way,” you nod.

Jungkook looks everywhere, except at you. It seems like he isn’t brave enough to face you, almost like a teenager confessing his love.

“As I told you two days ago, I can’t have this child,” he finally speaks. “I really would love to, but I’d put the three of us in danger.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. What does he mean by ‘putting you in danger’? Does he come from a crazy family? Is he part of the mafia? This is scaring the hell out of you.

“We didn’t know each other up until two days ago, and you don’t deserve to be put in danger because of a stupid mistake the clinic did,” he seems angry when he mentions the mistake. “But I can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your body, and it was also your wish to have a child. I can’t take that away from you.”

It kind of surprises you how respectful he is. Any other man in his position could have forced or paid you to put an end to this pregnancy. It’s really admirable.

“In case you want to keep going with it, I just want you to know that I’ll step away, and I will never come back to reclaim a role I refused from the beginning.”

You wonder what the reasons behind his decision could be. This man desired to have a child but is now refusing to have one with you because of a mistake.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do,” you admit.

His piercing eyes finally look at you. For a split second, you can swear that they were red. Red like blood. This destabilizes you, and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re not sure if you’re being delirious or if this is real.

“I wanted to become a mother, but not like this,” you continue, still destabilized by what you just saw. “So it leaves me wondering what I should do. But if you walk away, I’ll be more tempted to keep the baby because, in the end, it’ll go as I planned.”

In an unexplainable way, this man puts you at ease. It feels like you can confess how you truly feel about this situation without being judged by him. This man exudes serenity which draws you even more to him.

“I get that,” he says.

For a brief moment, you only look at him while your heart peacefully beats in your chest. His dark eyes stare right into your soul, and it feels like the world completely stopped. There’s just the two of you. But Jungkook breaks the contact, looking in another direction.

“If you decide to keep the child and need any financial help, I can give it to you,” he speaks.

This man definitely seems like a good guy, and you wonder even more why he’s walking away from this.

“I won’t,” you answer. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t have any means to take care of the baby.”

For sure you need financial stability to be a single mother, and you would have never embarked on this adventure without having it.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his fluffy hair, avoiding still your gaze. “Can I ask why you want to become a single mom?”

The question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting this man—this stranger—to be interested in you.

“I didn’t have an easy life and I grew up without my parents,” you confess. “Motherhood was something I aspired to have in my life since I’m very young, and I’ve desired to give to my child everything I didn’t have. No matter if it was with someone or alone.”

Your eyes shift from Jungkook to the square full of people. It’s never easy to express out loud and to a complete stranger why you embarked on this adventure. Mentioning your parents is actually never easy; even after all this time.

Suddenly, you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you in complete silence. For once in your life, people’s heartbeats and scents don’t suffocate you. You can hear and smell them, but it’s like it doesn’t matter.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve had those developed skills. You can hear stuff from afar, and you can strongly smell people’s natural body’s scent. Since it’s kind of ‘normal’ to you, you got used to it; but sometimes, and especially when you’re in the middle of heavy crowds, it suffocates you. It becomes simply too much.

This is something you never told anyone, too scared to be judged. Undoubtedly, people would say you’ve gone crazy due to the trauma of losing your parents. Not even Felix or Lexi knows about it. They just think you’re agoraphobic.

However, lately, you’ve been trying to go to some crowded place to overcome this suffocating feeling. You ignore why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve been doing it. It’s still too much, but today, next to this complete stranger, it doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him to offer him a little smile.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Can I also ask you why you’re doing this?” you dare to ask.

Jungkook nods before looking away once more. It definitely looks like it’s hard for him to hold your gaze.

“In my world,” he starts saying. “I have heavy responsibilities, and having a child is one of them. But I can’t have one with anybody. I’m very limited in who is the biological mother so that’s why I can’t have one with you.”

You almost feel offended by his words. In which kind of world can’t you be the mother of his child? It’s completely crazy!

“Oh,” you simply say.

“You could have been the surrogate…” you can hear some kind of chuckle. “But never the progenitor.”

“It’s seems like a tough world.”

His eyes look again at you; you can see that he seems to hesitate with the answer.

“It isn’t,” he finally says. “But it is with me.”

Obviously, he carefully chose his words.

“Well, I hope you’ll find the right mother for your child,” you offer him once more a little smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back at you.

The two of you look back again at the people walking in the town square. They are walking around you, ignoring totally what you’re going through, what tough decision you have to make. They ignore everything about you, just as you ignore everything about them…

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he adds.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer. “It’s the clinic’s.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the people walking in front of you. His heart is racing and piercing through your ears. He’s even more nervous than he was before, and it concerns you a bit. But you don’t say anything, too afraid to scare him off if you reveal you can hear his heartbeat.

“Yn…” he starts. “There’s something you need to know,” his voice is deep and low at the same time. It’s so low that it almost drowns out by the distant chatter of people passing by.

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing. “Okay,” you whisper.

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he exhales. His eyes don’t meet yours immediately, but when he does, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“When I said my world is different,” he swallows with difficulty. “I don’t mean it in a metaphorical sense. My world, my reality is not the same as yours.”

You frown even more, confusion plastered all over your face. You’re definitely incredibly confused. How could his world be different than yours? You live on the same planet, and breathe the same air. How could it be not the same?

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gets closer, his voice dropping even lower, barely audible. However, you still hear it perfectly.

“I am not entirely human, yn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You stare at him while waiting for him to elaborate. However, Jungkook just stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’?” you tilt your head.

For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t speak, almost as if he’s scared to reveal his true nature to you.

“I’m a werewolf.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. It leaves you wondering if this man is of sound mind. Right now, you’re slightly concerned about his mental health, and the future of your child, if you keep them.

Your first reaction is to laugh, dismissing his words as if it is some kind of twisted joke. But the look on his face tells you that he’s deadly serious. This isn’t a joke.

“A werewolf?” you repeat to make sure you hear it well.

Jungkook nods. He looks tense and he maintains his deep glance on you.

“It’s why I can’t have this child,” he starts to explain. “In my world, bloodlines matter. Werewolf bloodlines are sacred, and the continuation of my lineage isn’t just about having a child. It’s about having the right child with the right kind of mother.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a tidal wave. You stand up, your hands running through your hair. Your mind is spinning, and your pulse thunders in your ears. This is something you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today.

Werewolves? You’re carrying the child of a werewolf?

This sounds like it comes straight from a fantasy movie.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whisper to yourself but Jungkook hears it.

“I didn’t want you to be dragged into this world, but you deserve the truth.”

You keep your back turned to him while you cross your arms against your chest.

“This is something you need to consider if you decide to keep the baby.”

At his words, you freeze. Instinctively, your hands down move to your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes follow your hands.

“Is this…” your voice trembles. “Is this a viable child?”

If you want to keep going with this pregnancy, you need to know if this baby can survive.

“There wouldn’t be any reason why this child wouldn’t survive because of mixed blood,” he stands up and gets close to you. “But as they grow up, they’ll develop werewolf abilities. And, one day, they’ll probably turn into one. It’s pretty unpredictable, though. There’s never been a human-werewolf hybrid before.”

Damn, this is leaving you speechless. How can this be real? Werewolves are supposed to exist in movies, not in real life.

“This is insane,” you rub your hands on your face. “This can’t be real.”

Jungkook steps closer. His presence is grounding but nonetheless overwhelming.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you demand, your voice filled with panic.

Before you can blink, he gets even closer to you. He’s in front of you in an instant, his hand gently grabbing yours. Your eyes look down at his hand as you notice it changing. His fingers elongate, his nails sharpen into claws, and the texture of his skin turns into something more beastly. Slowly, your eyes look up, and what you see completely freezes your body. His eyes glow a deep, predatory red, and there’s something undeniably wolfish about them.

You take a step back while setting your hand free. As you do so, Jungkook shifts back, his hand returns to its normal form, and his eyes fade back to a human form. The transformation is so quick that it almost feels like you imagined it.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Jungkook’s gaze softens at your words.

“That depends on you, yn.”

Please note that the taglist is closed

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 1 #spideyjimin

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noisilyscreechingsong · 6 months ago

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It’s canon that Jason Todd had a brother named Danny Todd. All we know is he died being a look out for a local gang. Who’s to say he didn’t die at the age of fourteen and come back? Maybe the Fentons were investigating the levels of ectoplasm in the area and somehow got their hands on an amnesic kid who died and didn’t quite stay dead? Perhaps they wanted to make him their side experiment, or they wanted to see if they can teach it to be good and not evil. Who knows. But as soon at Danny steps foot in Gotham, the entity of Gotham is there to greet him, welcome him home and remind him of who he was. And does he remember.

Danny is just a year or two younger than Dick and he was supposed to be starting a new job in the R&D department of WE. Instead he’s pushed back his start date to do research.

Of course, the first thing he looks up is his family, his original family that he can’t believe he forgot, to find out his mother, his father, and his little baby brother are all dead and buried. He has to take a break to sob uncontrollably on the kitchen floor for a while before gathering himself back up to find out what happened. He is unimpressed with the lack of information on Jason’s death, but he did find lots on his adoption to mister rich guy Brucie Wayne.

So it’s with almost no hesitation that after finding every single article and snippet he can on his brother and still find it lacking, he drives his motorcycle, that he built himself thank you, to Wayne Manor where he rang the buzzer repeatedly with a little too much force.

It takes him a while to finally bully his way through the gates, arguing with the butler and telling little white lies of ‘of course I don’t want to harm Mr. Wayne, I just need to ask him some questions’.

Sure he could have waited and got close to him through his new job or had some other cunning plan, but Danny has always been a straightforward kind of person and that didn’t change after his death. No, he prefers to get what he wants straight from the source.

That’s how he ends up pacing the length of the sitting room the British guy left him in with a deep glare and tense shoulders.

It was a nice place. Clean. Taken care of. Expensive. Jason lived here once upon a time. Too bad it didn’t last.

Mr. Wayne does show, surprisingly, and takes the time to assess him like a threat as he BS’s him with a ditzy expression.

Danny walks right up to him and sticks out his hand to shake because Jazz raised him with manners.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets with a stiff nod.

Mr. Wayne hesitantly takes the offered hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I’m sorry, Alfred didn’t tell me your-“

As soon as the handshake is over Danny socks him with a right hook straight to the face. The force throws him back a few steps but he recovers quickly. Danny shakes out his hand.

“My name is Danny Fenton. Before that though my name was Danny Todd.” He sees Wayne’s eyes widen a bit in recognition. The next part didn’t really need to be said but he did it anyway. “My little brother was Jason and no I don’t have proof so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You are going to tell me exactly how he died and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

His words had fallen back into his Gotham Crime Alley accent with how emotional he was. He forgot how he even used to talk. How does that even happen?

He walks back to sit on the couch, getting comfortable because he has a feeling this guy will drag this out like pulling teeth.

“I’ll ask Alfred to get some refreshments,” Wayne says after several minutes of silence.

“You do that.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #jason todd #bruce wayne #Danny and Jason are brothers #amnesia #story ideas #batman

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 2 years ago

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*NSFW* The mating habits of Yandere! Animal-Human Monsters

Yandere!Monster men who sometimes forget that their poor darling is a human and misinterprets their actions when it comes to mating. Short drabbles about yanderes trying to seduce their darlings, but the list gets progressively darker the further down you read.

*Warning* dub-con, non-con, yandere possessiveness, dead dove

Yandere!Crow Harpy who was a little disappointed when you refused to move out of your house. You didn't understand why the feathered man seemed so infatuated with you, but after a long while of him begging you to move in with him you agreed, only on the condition that he moved into your home. It wasn't a traditional harpy relationship, but he was ecstatic regardless, deciding that if he couldn't build a nest with you he could at least win your favor as a perfect mate by decorating it. It got on your nerves sometimes, coming home from work to find shiny bits of trash and feathers tucked into every nook and cranny of your home. Eventually the two of you created a list of acceptable "treasure" to bring home, and what you considered to be actual garbage. He spent weeks "decorating" your already furnished house, before one day pulling you into the living room where he had piled every blanket and pillow you owned into a makeshift nest on the floor. His smile was insecure, desperate for your approval as he wrapped you into his large wings, holding you tightly against his warm body before sinking down into the mass of fluffy objects. You could hear his heart hammering against his chest erratically as he gently began placing kisses against your collar.

"I wanted to help build a home with you, so it wasn't yours or mine, but ours. I pray that my attempts to prove I'll keep you and our future children comfortable impressed you..."

Yandere!Merman who couldn't help but feel awestruck by your beauty, often going on long rants about how much you inspire him. It was a chance encounter while you were studying abroad, and you grew emotionally attached to the beautiful man who sang you words of praise. Although he whined whenever you had to leave the beach, the bags under his eyes became deeper as the weeks went on, chronic exhaustion taking it's toll on the merman. Whenever you tried to convince him that his sleep was important, he would only give a dopey smile, responding cryptically about how his secret project was just as important as spending time with you, and that he would have time to sleep once it was all over. One day when you arrived on the beach he was already there, shaking with excitement and impatiently trying to drag you into the ocean before you could get on your snorkeling gear. Deep where the sun barely touched, a huge intricate mural was sculpted into the ocean floor. As your eyes widened in an attempt to take in just how massive the artwork was, following each perfectly symmetrical swirl, two strong arms snaked around your waist with a tired, yet content, sigh. He blew words into your ear that you were somehow able to understand despite the water, as he sunk with you into the middle of the circular masterpiece.

"You take my breath away every time we meet, and I wanted to do the same for you. Please say that, if you could, you would lie here in my arms forever.."

Yandere!Puppy-Hybrid who was always just a ball of energy, a hyperactive sweet heart who couldn't sit still when he was awake. Most of your days together, it was easy to forget that he could even have urges, with how innocent your relationship was, kisses and cuddles but nothing more. As a species who had mating cycles, although he would never tell you out loud, he was always waiting for you to go into heat. But it was taking so long! He did such a good job being a patient boy for you, you didn't even know why he was being so whiny lately, attributing his neediness to his attention seeking personality. But eventually, he took your phone to do some research. At first he was shocked, humans didn't have mating cycles?? How did you know when it was time to make a baby? Then he came across an amazing discovery. Ovulation. It took a couple of months, holding your belly to his face and breathing deeply for a couple of minutes each day, but he finally learned the subtle changes in your scent throughout your cycle. You had no idea what was going on, thinking he was just being extra goofy lately, until he refused to let go one day, tightening his grasp as his breathing turned into heavy pants, grinding your leg in between his.

"Ah.. you can't hide it from me.. I've been waiting for this for so long... Please don't say no..."

Yandere!Humanoid Spider who always did his best to never frighten you. Even when you first met, it was with him holding his hands up and pleading for you not to run away from him in a soothing voice. Despite the lower half of the creature you met in the forest being a giant spider, the top half was such a kind and handsome man that you quickly began to trust him, soon considering him to be a good friend. He was so thoughtful, always raising his hands as a show of surrender, whether he was approaching you from afar and didn't want to startle you or if you were jokingly fighting over something silly. Even amongst humans, he was the one you trusted the most. If you had known anything about spiders though, you would have been more on guard with his overt displays of feebleness, especially after he began telling you how beautiful you were. You didn't even fight back at first when he suddenly grabbed you from, until he bit into your neck. The kind man, no, the monster you thought you knew, wasted no time sliding your pants down as he still held your backside to his chest, chuckling into your shoulder.

"Ah, my stupid little human~ Were you just pretending to be that naive because you wanted me to take you? ❤️"

Yandere!Naga who couldn't feel love in the same way that humans did. As a researcher working towards her doctorate specializing in Naga people and their many sub species, you were overjoyed to meet a small tribe of Naga men who were willing to allow you to enter their home and record their daily lives. There were so many types of Nagas loosely related to snake species still alive today, and they each had their own cultures, languages, and biology. Based on the coloration you couldn't tell what type these men were, but despite not being fluent in their language they were very kind to you. They seemed to have been in a period of mourning before you arrived, and lavished all their attention on you, babbling on in one sided conversations you could only understand a few words of here and there. One phrase they all stated was flattering only for the first few times they repeated it, but quickly became unnerving as they became more comfortable caressing your face and running their fingers through your hair. And when they pulled you into the center of a giant nest, taking turns thrusting their long tongues down your throat and running their hands over your body, trapping you in a pile of cold men staring deep into your soul with hungry eyes, you learned the species they were closest to.

"We need you... We need you..."

Yandere!Humanoid Scorpion who rescued you after a tourist attraction went arry, promising to protect you until you could be rescued. A strong, bulky man who enjoyed holding you (almost too tightly) in his arms whenever his peers came near. Everything was honestly lovely until in the black of night you were awoken by a strange chorus of sounds echoing outside the burrow the hybrids allowed you to sleep in. A blue light illuminated the large home, and as it noticed you finally woke, approached, revealing himself to be the scorpion man who rescued you, glowing with bioluminescence. Before you could ask what was happening, fear struck you like a bolt of lightening seeing a large, inhuman cock emerging from just below his human half. He lunged forward, and you threw up your hands in self defence. Your hands intertwined with his, fighting against him with all of your strength, but the harder you fought, the more excited he grew. You pushed and pulled, but he didn't loosen his hold on you. Eventually it seemed he had enough playing, and threw you effortlessly onto the bed. Tears streamed down your face at your helplessness, but this only widened his smile as he peeled the shirt off your sweaty body.

"There is no need to fear, my mate. As you can see, no one can match my strength. You and our brood shall be safe under my protection.."

Yandere!Humanoid Waterbug disgusted you, from the twitch of his antenna to the flirtatiousness of his voice. The moment you met him on the water of your lake house, there was no escape. Every time you left or returned back home he was effortlessly skating across the waters surface towards you, begging you to come closer. Although you did your best to ignore him, his loud cries for attention eventually wore you down. Maybe if you entertained him just this once he would leave you alone? You approached him calmly, but as soon as you were within reach he grasped your hands tightly, pulling you partially into the water. He spoke sickly sweet words of affection, chilling you more painfully than the cold morning lake water. You tried to turn him down politely, gently pulling at his grip. He pulled you into the water further, swiftly pushing the two of you away from the shore in one kick of his legs, his unamused gaze no longer holding the playful, flirty gleam it had before. One set of hands held yours tightly, while another pair grabbed your head shoving it without warning under the water. You struggled against his grasp, rapidly losing oxygen as you panicked, black spots filling your vision. But before you lost consciousnesses, he brought you back up, still staring into your eyes with cold fury as your lungs felt like they caught fire. He confessed his love again, but when you began sobbing he thrust you face forward into the water again with a painful smack, holding you down beneath him until stopped struggling. In the air once more, snot flowed and mixed freely with your tears as he aggressively smashed his face into yours, fishing out your tongue and biting it harshly.

"There's only one correct answer to my question, (Reader).. Be mine, or die. If I can't have you, then no one can."

Yandere!Marsupial Hybrid you never saw coming. Lost in the Australian outback, you cursed yourself and your impossibly terrible luck. Hybrids and monsters freely roaming the world were terrifying enough, but being in the land where even the greenery was planted by Satan himself? Your phone had lost it's signal about two hours ago, and your jeep died shortly after that. Trudging along by foot, you continuously felt eyes following your every step, and the fear that a giant spider or monster snake was stalking you made you cry for hours as you walked under the merciless sun. On top of the heat and new blisters forming on your soles, you had to use a restroom as well. Quickly surveying the tall bushes to make sure you weren't about to go next to one of Satan's previously mentioned bushes, you pulled down your shorts in discomfort. The feeling of eyes on you hadn't left since your vehicle randomly gave out despite being double checked before you left the city, but your bladder couldn't care at that moment. A rustle nearby ended your attempt to go before it started, pulling up your shorts so fast it hurt. A hybrid with round ears and a lung brown tail with white spots charged into you, knocking you down. His face was red and slick with tears and sweat, his eyes wide and frantic as he latched his sharp teeth into your neck with excitement. Everything was so fast, with his alternating between feverish rambling and biting into whatever part of your flesh he could reach as he tore off your clothes with a desperation you couldn't comprehend. Tears blended with your own as he kissed, licked and bit every piece of you as he fought your legs open, ignoring your screams of pain.

"You accepted me didn't you?! You knew I chose you! Ah, it hurts! Why'd you put your clothes back o-ah! I need you, I need you now!"

#yandere monster #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere monster x reader #smut #dead dove do not eat #minors dni #bad writing #not proofread #yandere drabble #yandere hybrid

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lostingrayrain · 6 months ago

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hello hello!! i bought homicipher the day it came out and i'm so in love with it.. but there's no content whatsoever and i'm so sad 😭😭 could you write literally anything for any character.. i just need to see more homicipher content!!! 😭😭💗

I GOT YOU ANON I've clocked in like 20 hours since the release on November 1st omg....

I've been cooking up something for my first Homicipher post.....here's some general thoughts on the relationships/dynamics with the main guys.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: sfw, some mentions of canon-typical violence

Mr. Crawling

He loves you!! He loves you so, so, so much!!!

Do you love him?

He asks you that. A lot. He loves to be reassured that you adore him. And he's always vocal about how much he adores you.

He follows you everywhere, like a lost puppy. It's honestly so endearing and sweet. He's constantly on the lookout for you.

He also adores physical touch, once he knows it's fine. Other than the little headpats, he likes to touch your legs, especially your calves. In times of rest he's incredibly cuddly and loves to nuzzle into you.

Pet his hair and he'll melt immediately. It's so relaxing to him.

He's usually with you, but when he's not he's often on the lookout for gifts and trophies to bring to you. He just wants to make you happy, in any way possible. The second there's anything you mention liking or being fond of, it's a priority for him to see if he can scrounge it up.

If you'll let him, he'd love to touch your hair. He will play with it and make silly nonsensical braids and giggle quietly to himself all the while.

He's a bit of a chatterbox. He loves to talk to you. Any time he's been away he likes to give you little reports of what he's done or what he's seen. And he wants to hear all about your day or your dreams, too. There's never a time he won't want to hear what you have to say.

Mr. Silver Hair / Mr. Silvair

You are so very interesting to him! He wants to study you.

But not hurt you. Normally, he probably would have already dismembered you to watch how your body pulls together again, but since you're friends with Mr. Chopped, he's put aside that urge.

Instead it's been replaced by something else, though he doesn't really understand what it is. He's never felt it before. Or maybe he has? Maybe he doesn't remember? Could you help him remember?

Whenever you’re feeling ill, he finds that he wants to make you feel better. He’s trying hard to learn how to keep you together just as you are.

He’ll get you to lie down when it seems you’re feeling faint, and carry you to bed when you collapse in the middle of an errand. Before he realises it, he's massaging your hair. Think nothing of it. Your head hurts, right? So it makes sense to pet you.

He likes to watch you sleep. He can’t put a finger on why. He likes to tell himself he’s doing armchair research when he’s really just….zoning out.

He's extremely perceptive and observant. He's always checking your reactions to things and events to figure out what you like or don't like, or to try to understand how you're feeling in the moment.

He's the type to politely ask if it's okay to touch you before doing so.

He would never hurt you unless your urges became unbearable, in which case it's self-defense, right? He'll make sure you'll turn back to normal and he'll be there for you every step of the way.

Mr. Gap

He's probably...one of the strangest denizens of the otherworld. You're still not sure if he has a body. But he has helped you on multiple occasions. You've found yourself growing fond of him.

You often see him peeking at you from various holes and gaps. Sometimes he tries to get your attention, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he just watches.

When you find a bag in the underworld, you begin carrying it around with you.

He's usually inside, but sometimes not. You have no idea where he goes.

He'll often bring back little gifts like weapons or food, like some bizarre cat. When he finds out you like candy, he tends to focus on that.

He always asks for your heart before he gives you anything, and you always say no, and he always grumbles.

But somehow you'll always find those same things coincidentally in your path or somewhere in the room after you wake up, if you've taken a nap.

He likes to scope out newspapers and magazines too, and show them to you, especially if they feature himself. He's so proud of that.

Over time, his requests for your heart grow less and less frequent. Sometimes, you forget he used to ask you for it at all, until he suddenly pipes up with the query again.

Is his wanting your heart the same thing as wanting your love? Things to ponder.

Mr. Hood

He's quiet and reclusive but he's there for you whenever you need him.

You need or want anything? Just ask. He'll give it to you immediately with hardly a question.

No harm will ever come to you whenever you're with him, and he hardly lets you out of his sight. He's incredibly protective of you.

He loves to carry you in his arms or on his shoulder, whether you're small or not. It's no bother to him. He's more than strong enough.

Hand touches are so pleasant to him -- whether you're touching his hands, or he's touching your face. He's secretly touch-starved. As long as you don't shy away, he'll continue to hold onto you.

He enjoys quizzing you on your knowledge of the otherworld language. When things are slow, he’ll randomly ask you if you know the names of certain things.

Whenever you both encounter something new during your travels, he’s quick to ask you if you know what it is or outright tells you what it’s called.

He seems a bit self-conscious of having minimal form. What is under his robe? If you don't ask he'll be grateful. He doesn't know himself.

But if you're not repulsed by his anomalous form, that's just -- incredibly touching.

He claims to not understand love, but he'll never abandon you.

Maybe he doesn't understand. Maybe he's forgotten.

But there's something about you that comforts him, and makes him feel safe. Quite paradoxical -- he's the one doing the protecting, after all. But your presence soothes him.

Mr. Machete

He's just looking for a way to not be bored. And being with you -- somehow, it's fun.

Maybe because he's usually alone, so he doesn't often have anyone else to talk to. It's...fun to banter with you, even if sometimes your words confuse him.

It's unquestionable that he's the brawn, you're the brain of this duo. Maybe the beauty and the beast, too?

He's always, secretly, been a little bit of a coward. The second things don't look like they'll turn out well for him, he ditches and flees.

But, oddly, you give him the courage to stand against things or monsters he would have thought were impossible to defeat.

Sometimes, you die -- whether by accident or because something else got to you before he could. But he always sighs and waits for you to wake up again. If you're mad, it's a little funny. You were just too slow that time.

He likes sparring with you. You have to get faster, right? Your weapon is pretty funny, too. So small and yet somehow you manage to not get overwhelmed by him. He's not holding back. He never would. Right?

He likes to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Likes to hug you like a teddy bear, too. You're soft and warm. You feel nice against him.

He's not the type to ask, but if you made any indication of not liking anything, he'd stop. He doesn't want to break you.

Mr. Scarletella

You are his queen. He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You are so fascinating to him. He just can't believe he's found someone as perfect as you. Someone who likes to destroy and kill people, just like him? Immaculate.

You haven't and never will give him your name. That's fine. He can live with that, as long as you're with him.

You've likely given him something else to call you. It's not quite your name -- maybe it's not your full name, and he knows it, because he can't quite grasp your essence. But it's enough to be able to give a sound to the person -- thing -- he likes most in this world.

He likes to say that not-quite name, and he says it often, just to get your attention.

He's fascinated by everything about you -- including how small you are in comparison to him. He loves that he can easily dwarf your form and loom over you. It's exhilarating in a completely different way from mindless violence.

Speaking of which, his favourite thing is without a doubt to commit violence with you. There's a new urban legend steadily growing in the human world, of a pair of murderers characterised by their red and white umbrellas. You're the perfect perfectly awful duo, truly.

Even when he's not with you, he's always somehow got an eye on you. Most of the otherworld residents know by now who you belong to, and they'd never lay hand on the one cherished by the red umbrella man.

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mojibake #mozibake #文字化化 #mr silvair x reader #mr silver x reader #mr silver hair x reader #mr crawling x reader #mr hood x reader #mr machete x reader #mr gap x reader #mr scarletella x reader #ask #anonymous

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bunnis-monsters · 6 months ago

Text

Experimenting

Male!Vampire Scientist x Fem!Experiment Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 18th

Oct 17

Oct 19

summary: when a vampire needs a source of unlimited blood, he turns to science. You’re his experiment, and a bit spoiled…

warnings: blood drinking, cock warming, male lead is a bit manipulative

a/n: shut up if I have any spelling mistakes 🙏 I’m trying to catch up

You let out an annoyed whine as he poked his head into your room. You were in the middle of a movie, eating a snack.

“Darling~”

He walked in, throwing his lab coat aside and jumping into your bed. The man had a habit of coming to you after a long day in the lab, being clingy and over baring.

“H-hey, don’t jump in my bed before you wash up!”

You pouted, squirming as he pulled you on his lap and rubbed his cheek against your neck.

“Oh, don’t fuss my dear… you know I just adore you, it’s hard to stay away for long.”

Before you could whine anymore, he moved his hand between your thighs, pressing against your wet panties.

“Don’t you remember who saved you? Who’s spoiled you rotten?”

You did remember.

Before you had been living on the street, hungry and barely hanging on. One night you were caught in the middle of a shoot out, and nearly died from blood loss,

He found you curled up in an alleyway, buried beneath trash and filth. You had already died, not even turning you into a vampire could bring you back…

So he used the knowledge he had gained from his research so far from both science and witchcraft to give you life.

One of the side effects was that you overproduce blood, and had to be drained daily. It was a happy surprise, and he decided to keep you for himself as his blood bag.

You were kept in a sterile section of his lap, your bed a plain cot and your food some sort of nutritional mush.

It was hardly the place for a girl… but it would do. You were just an experiment, after all.

That had been his idea at first, to keep you in his laboratory and feed from you every once in a while… but he grew fond of you quickly.

A room was decorated with your interests in mind, and he made sure you were comfortable and had everything you could ever want.

You were almost like his doll, something he could play with when he was bored. He dressed you up, kept you in a pretty room… you were his perfect, pretty little doll.

That’s what he told himself. In all reality, he truly cared for you. Once you bring someone back from death and care for them for months while they recover, you become fond of that person and want to see them thrive.

As he thought this over, your memory was a bit different.

You reached out for him to help you, and he carried you back to his lab himself, not caring that you were dirty and smelled of decay.

Your spirit watched as he carefully cleaned and stitched up your broken body, his hands gentle and caring. Even though you were simply a corpse, he still dressed you and placed a pillow under your head while he researched ways to save you at his desk.

When you woke up in your body, you were in something much softer than the ground you slept on every night. Every day you ate until you were full, and always had energy to walk around.

You weren’t hungry or cold or dirty anymore… that was enough for you, but he gave you even more! A room just for you, dressed and games and books and all the attention and love you could ever ask for…

But it was so hard to accept all of this, to really give in to being spoiled. Especially when you were crushing this hard on him…

His fangs brushed against your neck as he slipped the silk panties he bought for you aside. Lately his affections had turned from platonic to sexual, and he had been toying with you a lot.

Experimenting.

“I see… this is how wet you get when I rub here, hmm?”

He licked along your neck, eyes on your fat cunt as he flicked your clit, causing you to yelp and your hips to buck.

“H-hey…”

His cock hardened when you squirmed, your plump ass moving against his hard on. “That hurts…”

You were pouting, your face warm and flustered.

“So cute…”

He lifted your hips with ease, his cock rubbing against your cunt before he slowly lowered you into it.

Though you’d never taken cock before, he had been slowly stretching you out for weeks now, pumping his fingers in and out of you, getting you ready to take him.

You could only whine and whimper, embarrassed that it felt so good. You attempted to move, but he kept you still, his fingers toying with your clit.

“Relax, love…”

His fangs sunk into your neck, causing you to wiggle and writhe in mild discomfort, which made his cock twitch inside of you. The man continued to stimulate your clit as he fed from you.

Your soft body felt warm against him, and having your blood flowing through his felt intimate. You were connected in a way no one else could be.

As he finished up his feeding, he began lightly bouncing you, letting you ride out your orgasm as his cum spurted into your womb.

Afterwards you were tired and a bit cranky from the blood loss, so he carried you to a bath and washed you up before tucking you into bed.

Why did he do so much for you? He wasn’t sure… but you knew.

He loved you, his little experiment had become his mate and he hadn’t even noticed yet.

want more of this? my commissions and kofi are open!

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

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bluebirdsfeathers · 29 days ago

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Her Office

──────･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: Wanda tried to get to know you a bit better before you start working together but an innocent question bring out painful memories.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), Past verbal and physical abuse, Slight hinted at homophobia, Mommy issues bc i have them too, power imbalance?

A/N: sorry this took so long. uni is really kicking my butt right now and just when i thought i'd have time to write my research supervisor gives me a 400+ page book to read.

Inspiration

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

──────･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me… and for my sister!” Pietro joked as he helped you clear out your desk. You’d made yourself at home over the past few months working for him. You were sad to be leaving but excited to be working for Wanda, also incredibly nervous, like throw up into the recycling bin near the printer nervous. Not that that had happened of course.

“But seriously, we are going to miss you down here. Don’t go forgetting about us.” He patted you on the back handing you the last of your stuff.

“How could I forget you? I’ll be down here like every other day wont I? Wanda visits all the time.” you reply with slight confusion. Wanda was always coming down to check on things, like she must do with all the departments. You assumed most of your job would be to accompany her many visits around the building. Staying close and taking notes on what she says like you’d seen Theo do.

“Yeah, she definitely was just coming down here for routine check-ins.” Pietro mumbled with the faintest air of smugness of someone who knows something you don’t has. Before you could register what he said, the doors on the far side of the room swung open and in came Wanda.

Her stride exuded confidence as she made her way over to you and your now empty desk. Her hair was slightly messy, shirt untucked, and instead of her usual high heels she wore flats.

“Got everything?” She sounded short of breath, like she had just been running. “The elevator to my office is being inspected so we’ll have to take the stairs.” Without another word, Wanda started walking back towards the door pausing to look behind her when she sensed you hadn’t moved. “Come on those 15 floors won’t climb themselves.” Suddenly her slightly dishevelled appearance made sense. You took a deep breath and gave one last look at Pietro, who seemed to be going to great lengths to not laugh at his sister, before following Wanda.

The stair well was in stark contrast to the rest of the building. Tall grey brick walls and bright white lighting. It seemed to also double as extra storage space judging by the stacks of boxes and pallets back here. You only seen them briefly while getting your monthly fire safety talks from a very unenthusiastic Dr. Banner, who once again felt the need to remind the group he had much more important things to be doing than this. As much as you found the man funny, he’s short temper made him a little scary at times.

People yelling had always been something you weren’t fond of. Your mom had always been so angry with you for not behaving like she wanted. The constant being told to sit, speak, and act ‘like a lady’ throughout your childhood had led to so many arguments. Femininity was just something you never had an interest in and the pressure to fit in from your family only made you reject it harder.

This never made the yelling easier, instead it had only made you desperate to avoid that sort of conflict. Wanda yelling the other day had scared you in a way you hadn’t felt since you were a child, and you were now desperate to make sure you were never on the receiving of her rage.

“Y/n, careful.” You had been so lost in thought you’d missed a step and stumbled forward. Wanda who had been talking non-stop about how inconvenient the elevator maintenance was stopped to help you pick up some pens that had fallen from the box you were carrying. “Do you need some help with that? It looks heavy.”

You saw this a challenge.

“No I’m fine, I’m very strong.” Wanda gave you a smile as she placed the pens back into the box touching your hand as she pulled away before turning around to continue climbing the stairs. Your face immediately flushed red.

“Only 4 more flights to go.” Her voice echoed off the bare walls was she turned another corner. You let out a sigh, the box was actually really heavy.

Once in her office you placed the box on an empty desk in the corner of the room. It was pushed up to the window and gave you an amazing view of New York. It was only then you realised how high up you were.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wanda came up behind you making you jump slightly, all this achieved was making the red head chuckle slightly. “You’re so jumpy you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” You gave a small smile. Being alone with Wanda was terrifying and exciting all at once. The reality of the situation hadn’t really sunk in till just now. It was going to be the two of you, alone, very often from here out.

“Can I ask you something?” You nervously asked fiddling with the hem of your shirt not daring to look Wanda in the eyes. Her beautiful green eyes.

“Of course you can, darling.” Her final word rattled about in your brain momentarily making you forget what you even wanted in the first place.

“What you said, before,” Finally a coherent thought, “about wanting me, from the start. Was that true?”

“Yes, why would I lie.” Wanda raised an eyebrow giving you a no-nonsense look that you couldn’t if it was fully serious or not.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just, why didn’t you? You know, pick me the first time?” It was definitely a word salad that came out your mouth, thank God you were better at writing than speaking. “I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry…” you added after Wanda took a second to respond.

“No, no, don’t apologies…” She took a deep breath as if debating what to say. “That first day, I thought you had potential,” she began, clearly choosing her words carefully, “I just wanted to, see if you had what it takes to you know, be mine.”

“Be… yours.” The words caught in your throat as swallowed hard, struggling to speak.

“Be my intern, my assistant.” Wanda rushed to clarify but something inside you felt like her previous words were more honest. Not that you would dare push her on it. “And being my intern comes with a lot of responsibility, so I hope you are ready.”

“Yes ma’am.” You say saluting the older woman, who found the action quite amusing. “What do you need me to do first?”

Turns out Wanda didn’t want you to do anything just yet. Instead the two of you sat across from each other in the strange living room area of her office. Wanda lent back into a large leather armchair while you sat on the edge of the couch, almost velvety, black sofa.

She offered you a tea or coffee but instead you opted for the remnants of the energy drink you had tried to chug on the train this morning. Your choice in beverage clearly wasn’t approved by Wanda but she did little to stop you besides remind you of their negative health effects.

She asked you questions about yourself, clearly wanting to get to know you better but you held back from answering her questions too honestly, scared of being fired or disappointing her which was somehow worse in your head. They were all basic questions, and you asked some back at her.

She wanted to know about your favourite meal, how to you travel to work, where are you staying, and when you were going to get some proper work shoes. Your real answer being when they made comfortable ones but instead you opted to say when you get your next paycheck.

Then she asked something that caught you completely off guard. “How is your relationship with your family?”

“My family?” You repeat to make sure you were hearing things right.

“Yes, your family, you are one of the only interns not from a known family in the city, you mentioned you aren’t from New York originally, they must be proud of you?” Wanda spoke with a warm smile.

You hadn’t noticed but during the conversation you had leant back into the couch. It was like she had given you permission to relax for a change. You didn’t understand why but talking with Wanda made you feel comfortable, almost too comfortable at times making you need to remind yourself she was your boss.

“They umm,” your mind went to the argument you’d had with your father when you told him you were going to university miles away, almost across the entire country, “can we talk about something else.” Your voice shook slightly at the memory.

How angry he’d been, how angry he always was. The same with your mother, always so resentful, never protecting you from him. You spent your first semester coach surfing with a black eye till you had enough money to afford to rent a shitty little apartment.

“Sweetie, it’s okay.” Wanda had seemingly caught on that something was wrong and moved to sit next to you on the couch. She placed her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug that made your whole body tense. “For what it’s worth, I’ve seen your grades and watched how hard you work. I’m proud of you y/n.” Her voice had the same warmth as earlier, it was sickeningly genuine to you.

All you wanted to do was melt into her arms, but you couldn’t this was your boss. She was just being nice, there was no way she would let you get that close to her under regular circumstances. You told yourself you wouldn’t let yourself get attached. You’d seen how ruthless she could be, and it terrified you to think of being on the receiving end. Catching feelings would just make your eventual fuck up ever worse.

Besides there was no way in hell CEO Wanda Maximoff, multimillionaire Wanda Maximoff, Old enough to be your mother Wanda Maximoff would ever have feelings for you in return.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You stood up as quickly as Wanda grip on you allowed. “Sorry.” You hurried to the small bathroom in the corner of the room, locking the door behind you before allowing yourself a moment to cry.

Cruel words from you parents fought the gentle reassurance Wanda had given you. You took a moment to collect yourself. Taking several deep breaths and trying to get rid of the redness in your eyes with a little cold water from the tab.

The bathroom, like everything in Wanda’s office screamed sophistication. The mostly white tiles with the smallest hint of red complemented the plush red hand towels, and several well looked after plants littered a shelf above the toilet. Most surprisingly was the shower and clawfoot tub in the room. Did she actually use them? Or where they just there because they could be?

Finally you were ready to leave the bathroom, stepping out you saw Wanda quickly look away from your direction. Had she been watching the door the whole time?

“Y/n, feeling better?” you gave a weak nod. “Good, right back to business then, first order is sorting out… this.” She pointed towards you clothing. Since Pietro had never required you to dress professionally, you had never updated your wardrobe. You wore the same baggy, teen boy esc clothing you always did.

“Yeah, I thought that would be a problem, sorry about the way I dress. I just…”

“No I like the way you dress.” Wanda cut you off. “I mean, you dress fine, it’s just not… appropriate if you are going to be accompanying me to important meetings and such.” You couldn’t tell if you were imagining it, but you could have sworn you saw a small blush creep onto the older woman’s face.

“Right, there should be a measuring tape in the third draw of the left cabinet in my office. I have some work to get on with you can’t help with.” Wanda began quickly pressing the button of the, hopefully, now working lift.

“I want you to measure yourself and note it down. I’ll sort you out some more work appropriate clothing.” Before you could ask any other follow up questions the doors to the lift opened and she rushed inside, disappearing almost immediately.

Walking into Wanda’s office you looked out at the city, everything seemed so quiet, so still from all the way up here. Grabbing the measuring tape you sat down at your desk, getting your phone out to look up exactly what measurement you need to give her. You’d never had to think about measurements when buying clothes before. Your face flushed a bit think about the idea of Wanda choosing you some clothes. Hopefully she wouldn’t put you in a pencil skirt, or God forbid heels.

──────･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Tag list: @wandaslittlehorns @starfire1008 @mirage018 @viosblog112 @nebthetautora @ciaoooooo111 @cowboy-hunter @htinha157 @the-falling-avenger @reginassecretlover @canyonyodeler @mrsromanovaa @loneliestafterparty @imawandasimp @caramelcat123 @marvelwomen-simp @reginassweetheart @unadulteratedballoonduck @kei034 @coollemonsaresour

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motorsportbarbie13 · 1 month ago

Text

Post It - Part 4 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

warnings: once again, this is all fluff. (as always tho, special shout out to @lestapiastrisgirl for always listening to me whine and brainstorm at 2am 🙌🏻)

pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.7k words

- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -Master List

youusername posted

892,032 likes liked by lando, hannahstjohn, yourmother and others yourusername taking a little detour... hannahstjohn omg have so much fun! 😉 >>>yourusername see you in sazuka, Hanny 😘 >>>user029 oh hannah knows something...that winkey face doesn't lie. >>>user000 AND SHE'LL BE IN SAZUKA yourmother this is how i find out you're not coming back to boston?! >>>yourusername i called you yesterday! you didn't answer! >>>yourmother it was 3am my time silly girl!!! >>>yourusername oops! user992 lando in the likes AGAIN >>>user332 and quick too!

The engine of the private jet hummed softly in the background, the low thrum of the white noise quietly filling the luxurious cabin. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, illuminating everything around you in a bright glow. You were tucked away in a window seat, legs stretched in front of you while your laptop balanced on your lap.

Across the small aisle, Lando lounged on the bench seat while he watched you intently. You were engrossed in reading something on your laptop, stopping every once in a while to tap away at something on your phone before your eyes darted back to the screen. He had no idea what you were doing but watching you do it was fascinating. The way you bit at your bottom lip when you were concentrating, the way your brows tilted together as your eyes tracked across the screen, the way your fingers moved so deftly over the keyboard. It was all a mesmerizing dance, something that Lando could watch forever.

After finishing up post-race notes and analysis, Lando sets his own laptop aside before stretching out his leg to tap your leg with his toe. You look up, surprised, almost as if you had forgotten he was there.

“What are you doing?” He asks softly, enjoying the way your cheeks flush under his gaze. Lando was still pinching himself, waiting for the dream of you agreeing to go to Japan with him for the week to be over, but it seemed as if this was all real.

“Research.” You respond, eyes darting down to the five tabs you have open on the screen in front of you.

“Research?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Osaka, silly. And Kyoto. It looks like we could totally take a day trip to Kyoto if we wanted to. It’s only like an hour away by train and there’s this temple, well…” You pause, shrugging, “There are a lot of temples but this one in Kyoto is stunning. And the bamboo forests-” Your mouth snaps shut suddenly, ears going a bit pink.

It takes every ounce of control Lando has in his body not to lean over and kiss you, the look on your face is so cute. “Whats wrong? No bamboo forests?”

You shake your head, closing your laptop before setting it aside. Tucking a stray piece of hair that had fallen out of the haphazard bun that was piled on top of your head away, you’re eyes dart away from Lando’s gaze. You hated when you went off on tangents like that, it always led to people thinking you were a bit…weird. Not to mention the fact that you just realized you’d started planning over a trip that Lando had already been planning for who knows how long.

“Nothing.”

Lando narrows his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lying to me.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “That’s not fair.”

He reaches forward, grabbing your hand before tugging you up and out of your seat. “C’mere.” Lando murmurs as he continues to pull until you’re close enough that he can grab you by the waist and pull you down onto his lap.

You let out a small sigh, leaning your head onto his shoulder. It’s weird, you think, as your body melts into his, the warmth of his muscles seeping beneath your skin. It’s weird how Lando’s only just barely come into your life again and already you’re fitting together like it’s been years.

You’d been up late last night about it, wondering how this man had so quickly nestled himself under your skin but then you had remembered the countless hours you’d spent with him on FaceTime. You’d learned about his family, his siblings, the pressures of being in a brutal sport like F1. You’d told him about the mask you felt you always needed to wear, the pressure you felt to be perfect and ‘on’ at all times for the followers and fans you met in real life. It was something he could relate to, even though his fame was on a totally different level. But that shared connection, of both of you being sure that neither wanted you for the fame and money your chosen careers came with, had bonded you in a way that neither of you had experienced before.

You felt at ease, comfortable, safe when you were within arms length of him and while it kind of freaked you out at how fast it was all happening, something inside your soul had felt so settled over the last few days, it was hard to deny.

“Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to kiss it out of you?” Lando says, lips dusting over the sensitive skin on your neck.

When you dip your head, fully intending on kissing him first, you’re surprised when he pulls back. Lando chuckles, swiping his thumb over your frown before shaking his head. “Don’t try to distract me. What’s going on?”

You hesitate only for a few moments, feeling silly at the weight of the anxiety sitting in the pit of your stomach. “I…” You start, leaning your head into the way Lando’s cupping your jaw. “I just realized that you probably have the entire trip planned and I was being a little bossy. This was your trip first, I’m happy to tag alone with whatever you want to do.”

Lando shifts you in his lap so he can see you better. “Well first of all, this isn’t my trip.” He says before his lips whisper over your jaw. “This is our trip so you get as much say in this as I do. Whatever you want to do while we’re here is what we’ll do, pretty girl. All I want is to be with you.”

Your heart hammers at his words, the sincerity in them has something squeezing in your chest. Lando’s pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you. He hadn’t really meant to be so…honest with you, it had just kind of slipped out. He’d never felt so protective over someone else’s wellbeing before and while he thought it should be freaking him out, it didn’t. It felt normal almost. Like the noise in his head was quiet when he had you to focus on, to be concerned about.

When you lean down a second time, Lando lifts his chin up to meet your lips half way. With Lando finishing second yesterday and all the media that came with it, you two haven’t had much time alone together. Most of your ‘alone’ time so far had been with the public just right outside your bubble. Here, in the privacy of the empty jet, you could allow yourself to be more free with your affection. It felt like Lando relaxed in this environment too. He laughed quicker, touched you more, allowed his eyes to wander easier.

You flourished under the attention because you knew he didn’t want anything else from you. He had his own career, his own fame. You were decidedly less famous than he was, for sure, but the feeling was the same. Not knowing who wanted to be in your life for what you could give them in return was an exhausting way to live. When Lando was with you, he knew you didn’t have ulterior motives and you felt the same.

Your lips met his in a soft but confident touch that quickly deepened into something more urgent. It was a silent affirmation between you both, an understanding that didn’t need words to confirm, just the heated press of two bodies molding together. It was just two souls, two completely different worlds, merging and finding solace in each other’s presence.

Lando’s hands move, cupping your face as his thumbs trace the delicate curve of your cheekbones. He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body radiating through you, a comforting heat that chased away any lingering anxieties. The kiss grows more passionate, a silent conversation spoken not in words but in touch. It’s a blend of tenderness and desire, a slow burn that ignites a fire within you. You tangle your hands in his curls, fingers clutching for anything to bring him closer to you, even though you were already impossibly close.

He groans softly, a low rumble in his chest, his lips moving against yours with a newfound urgency that sends pleasure curling low and deep in your belly. Lando drops his hands back down to your hips, shifting you again so you’re straddling his lap now, knees digging into the soft cushions of the jet’s seat. Experimentally, you roll your hips deeper into his lap, pulling another low moan from Lando’s lips. You can’t help but smile against his lips, enjoying the way he feels hard against you, knowing that it’s your lips, your body, your mouth that’s doing that to him.

Lando pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips. His eyes are dark, like the ocean right before it storms on a dark summer night, intense in a way you haven’t really seen them before and it has your breath catching in the back of your throat. “God.” He whispers thickly. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

A shiver runs down your spine, a delicious mix of pleasure and anticipation. You lean in again, your lips brushing against his. “Then maybe,” You murmur, voice barely audible, “You should show me.”

He grins in that wicked and cocky way he’s well known for. “Oh, I plan to.” He whispers as he drops his mouth back onto the hollow of your neck. He licks a long, heated line against your exposed collarbone and you immediately tilt your head back to give him better access. The whimper that leaves your lips is dangerous and has Lando grinding up into your core, desperate for more friction. His hands slip beneath the thin cotton of your t-shirt tracing the curves of your body, lingering on the sensitive skin that he’s never seen before.

He’s moments from attempting to remove your shirt from your body when the speaker system crackles to life, alerting you to your impending approach to the airport in Japan. With a deep sigh at the interruption, you scramble off of Lando’s lap before the flight attendant comes back to prepare the cabin for landing. Lando clears his throat, adjusting his joggers as best he can while starting after you as you settle back into your seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, patting the seat beside him.

“They wanted us to get in our seats for landing.” You reply, looking at him as if he’s got three heads.

“Yes, this seat right here is yours now. Get back here.”

“So needy.” You tease but you obey without any more fight.

“I have a feeling I’m always going to be needy for you.” He whispers in your ear before nipping at your earlobe. You barely swat him away as the flight attendant slides the cockpit door back open, smile on her face.

“Welcome to Japan, you two!” She says brightly with no indication that she has any idea of what had just been going on in the cabin moments before.

“What do you mean you’re not going to eat sushi with me while we’re here?” You stare at Lando incredulously later that day.

Lando wrinkles his nose in a way that makes it look like he’s just smelled something extremely funky and shakes his head, “Sushi is fish. Fish is disgusting.”

“You are an absolute child.” You laugh, shaking your head.

After the jet landed and your bags had been whisked away to the hotel for you, Lando had swept you off your feet and took you to your first destination: Osaka Castle. The grounds were practically deserted, probably because it was a Monday afternoon, so it felt like you had the entire place to yourself. The cherry blossoms were just beginning to burst open, the pink and white of the famous trees providing the most gorgeous backdrop to the photos both you and Lando were taking.

You continued on down a path towards the one of the many traditional Japanese gardens leaving Lando behind to continue to whine about how awful fish is. Reaching into your bag, you pull out your Nikon camera that you hadn’t used since you landed in China. Your fingers itched to put it to good use now, the scenery of the castle grounds were practically begging to be photographed.

“That is a gorgeous camera.” Lando remarks as he comes up behind you. You’d stopped on the path right at the edge of small lake. On a small bluff right behind it rose the white tiered castle that was one of Osaka’s most well known landmarks. A breeze flutters through your hair, spinning spare strands up in its gusts and whipping a few over into Lando’s face.

“My baby.” You coo, smiling over at him.

Lando sets his chin on your shoulder from behind, lip sticking out in a pout. “I thought I was your baby.”

You snort, rolling your eyes before lifting your free hand to frame his face. “Don’t worry, the camera won’t replace you, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” He murmurs, lips dusting the shell of your ear.

“Knock it off.” You chuckle before lifting the camera to frame a shot.

“Is that the new Nikon?” Lando asks, fingers reaching out to brush the body of the camera as he whistles long and low.

You nod, confirming his suspicions, before snapping a few test shots to figure out how best to use the late afternoon sun that’s casting gorgeous golden rays over the entire park. “I bought it as treat to myself when I hit 10 million followers on Instagram.”

The moment the words leave your lips your heart stops.

Fuck.

You turn around to see Lando’s brows furrowing in confusion. “10 million?” You can see the gears turning in his head. You both know you have just over 2 million followers and you had said ’10 million’ so confidently, Lando was sure it hadn’t been a mistake.

“Shit.” You whisper.

“What…I’m confused.”

Heaving a sigh, you decide you need to come clean. You’d become so relaxed around Lando you had just let the biggest secret you’ve ever hidden out into the open. “Have you ever heard of the photography account Pretty Little Lens?”

Lando’s eyes go wide as he nods. “Yeah, I’ve followed it for years. Their work is spectacular but no one knows who it is. The mystery behind who’s running that account has entire subreddit’s dedicated to it.”

You nod, tucking your camera back into your shoulder bag before taking Lando’s hand, pulling him over to a bench a few feet away. “I’m Pretty Little Lens, Lando.”

For several moments, Lando just blinks at you as he tries to process the secret you’ve just spilled. “You’re…you run Pretty Little Lens? The most secretive art account on pretty much any social platform in the last ten years?” His chokes out, voice full of disbelief.

You had started the account, with the full blessing of your parents, when you were 16 as a hobby. Two years later you had built up a huge following. You had decided from the get go though that you’d remain completely anonymous. You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself, preferring your art to speak for itself instead. Even now, almost ten years on, the only people on the planet that knew the identity behind Pretty Little Lens were your parents, your art agent, and your PR manager.

And now Lando.

“That’s me.” You say, trying to keep your voice light. You knew the kind of following PLL had on socials, how people devoted entire accounts to trying to figure out your identity. So far, you’d been able to evade the spotlight with your art and you’d prefer to keep it that way.

Lando blinks, rubbing the palm of his hand over his jaw. You shift uncomfortably next to him, starting to get freaked out by his silence. “Lan, say something.”

The anxiety of him judging your art, your decision to hide behind the anonymity of the account, especially when you are a pretty well known influencer as it was, set your teeth on edge.

“I have one of your prints hanging over my bed, a few in my living room too.” He says. You’re caught off guard by the admiration shining in his eyes. “I’ve followed you since I was 18…”

The fact that Lando, the man that you could feel your heart already falling for, had been a fan of your work for years, set something deep and meaningful tightening in your chest.

You’d never shared your passion for photography with anyone. You had a degree in it, sure, but as far as everyone outside your tiny little PLL bubble, everyone thought you just got that to be able to say you had a degree. No one thought you actually used it. Not even your professors in college were aware you were PLL. That had been an awkward day in class when you had been the subject of an entire lecture on landscape composition and lighting.

“Well, I’m glad you like my work.” You say weakly.

“Like your work?” Lando scoffs, still a bit unbelieving that he had solved a literal world wide mystery that millions would kill to know. Standing up from his spot on the bench, Lando pulls you to your feet as well. “Baby, I have been obsessed with Pretty Little Lens for years. Years.” Before you can protest, Lando is pulling you into his arms. “Part of why I got into photography was because of your account.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the way he’s looking at you, all wonder and awe filling those pretty green blue eyes of his as they sparkle down at you. The smile that spreads across his face is so genuine, pleasure skitters down your spine in response.

“You’re kidding.” You breathe, a wash of disbelief crashing over you. “You started photography because of me?”

Lando nods, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looks at you for a moment, taking in the way that you’re looking at him, totally awestruck. It was a lot to wrap his mind around in such a short time. He’d been following PLL for ages and to find out the girl that he was falling for was the one behind the account? Wild. It made him look at you in a completely new light, like you two had been tied together by an invisible string for years now, the universe just waiting for the right moment to bring you together.

“It’s true.” He murmurs, his voice husky. “Your work is…it’s more than just pretty pictures. It’s like you have this insane ability to capture the feelings that you were experiencing behind the lens when you took them.” He looks down bashfully then and chuckles. “I have notifications on for whenever you post something new, you know.”

He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer. There aren’t many people around to witness this public display of affection, not that either of you really care about what’s going on beyond your own little bubble. “I remember seeing your shots of the Banff in Canada last summer. The way you captured the sun reflecting off the lake in the middle of the mountains like that? It was…stunning.” Lando drops a kiss onto your nose before nuzzling into your your neck.

Warmth spreads through your chest, a strange feeling of pure joy at finally being able to share your secret with someone beyond your parents and agent. It felt like you were letting someone see you bare for the first time, like someone was able to see the real you that you kept hidden from everyone else. You had thought you’d feel exposed, raw, an a plethora of other negative emotions but instead, all that bubbles up inside your chest is relief and happiness that you can share this bit of yourself with someone else.

“I don’t know what to say to that. I never thought I’d ever actually tell anyone besides the people who already knew.”

Lando chuckles, a low and appreciative sound that has goosebumps pebbling your bare arms. “You don’t have to say anything.” He murmurs before brushing his lips against yours in a quick show of casual affection. “Just know that your work is incredible and that I’m proud of you.” He pulls back slightly, a hint of mischief on his face. “And,” He adds, “now that I know your secret identity, I expect exclusive access to all future content before it’s published.”

You laugh, a light and airy sound that echoes through the garden. “Is that so?” You tease, brow quirking up.

“Absolutely.” He says, voice firm but with a gentle teasing edge to it. “Those are the rules now. I give you kisses, you give me photography tips.” He leans in, lips brushing against yours again. “We could even collaborate. If you want.” He whispers, breath warm against your skin.

The suggestion sends a cool shive down your spine. The idea of collaborating with him, of sharing your passion with him was intoxicating and intriguing. You’d never worked with anyone before, not since college and certainly not where PLL was concerned. Lando though? Lando was the first person you’d ever considered sharing creative process with, the first person that actually made collaborating sound appealing.

“I’d like that.” You whisper back, your lips curving into a smile against his jaw.

He dips his head then so he can kiss you again. It’s soft and tender, somehow different than any other kiss you’d shared yet. It wasn’t cautious or questioning, it was confident and solid while still managing to remain full of promise and anticipation. The mix was a drug and Lando had injected it straight into your veins.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the castle grounds, you and Lando stroll down the path hand in hand, the secret of who was really behind Pretty Little Lens now a shared treasure between the both of you. The world around seemed to fade away. The bustle of the city, the demands of Lando’s F1 career, the pressure that you felt to be perfect every moment of every day, it all faded into the background as you allowed yourselves to tumble head first into the magic that was brewing between you two in the most unexpected way.

yourusername posted

302,019 likes liked by yourmother, lando, liamlawson and others yourusername first day in japan was a dream user992 your jacket!!! gorgeous! hannahstjohn but have you eaten sushi yet??? 😉 >>>yourusername YOU KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT 🤣 user043 can lando fight??? >>>user928 please, we don't even know if they're together. touch grass. >>>lando have you seen my biceps??? *POW POW* >>>user202 no fing way >>>maxfewtrell and here we have the first PR nightmare of the 2025 season.

lando.jpeg posted

982,245 likes liked by maxfewtrell, lnfour, yourusername and others lando.jpeg surrounded by all kinds of pretty things lately maxfewtrell oh! >>>lando.jpeg hi max! user919 lando so lando DOES know how to soft launch someone >>>user122 someone tag allegra. >>>user919 @/its_allegra_babes user233 just because they're traveling together doesn't mean anything... >>>user221 BE SO FR RN >>>user201 found @/its_allegra_babes burner account user029 not lando posting almost the EXACT same street picture as @/yourusername. you two aren't slick. WE SEE YOU.

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clockwayswrites · 3 months ago

Text

Danny in Metropolis Ch2/Part 1

You all voted 🌆- I deliver! masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Kon knocked on the door frame of Clark’s office. The door was open. It always was unless Clark was on the phone or working on some story he didn’t feel Kon and Jon should see (as if Kon wasn’t a superhero too). Clark must be editing at the moment with how he was frowning at the screen with his nose all crookedly scrunched up. The expression cleared with Kon’s knock, and Clark turned around with a little smile.

“Heya Kon, how was school today?”

Kon shrugged. School was fine, but it had been another day that Danny hadn’t eaten any lunch except for the apple sliced Kon had stubbornly nudged his way. “Actually, I kinda had something, like, tangentially related to school I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Sure of course!” Clark quickly cleared off the second chair in the room and set the reference books on the floor at his feet.

Kon had a feeling the books wouldn’t be in a neat stack for long. For being Superman, Clark could be incredibly clumsy. Kon thought it might come from having to be so careful with every little movement that it all had to come out somewhere.(Not that Kon understood or anything…)

Once Kon had actually crossed the threshold and took the seat, Clark smiled (a little small, a little nervous) and asked, “So what’s this tangential issue?”

Kon fidgeted with one of of his many rings, turning it on his finger. “I’ve mentioned Danny, right?”

Clark nodded. “The new student that you partnered up with for your English project. Are you having trouble working with him?”

“No,” Kon said quickly. “Danny’s good. He’s, um, great actually. I’m just worried about him.”

“Worried how?” Clark asked as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Kon couldn’t decided if he looked more like a reporter or a dad right then.

“He doesn’t eat anything at lunch,” Kon explained. The words came out in a rush. “I don’t think he trusts food from his house much. Seems his parents bring their research work home sometimes, or used to pretty badly. So, of course I’m worried about him eating dinner too! But like, at least lunch I can know about? And he doesn’t want to eat the school lunches which I totally get, they’re nasty. So, I just, was maybe wondering, especially if I helped out some, if I could bring a second lunch with me for him?”

“Sure, of course we can, Kon,” Clark said gently. Softly. “Do you know if he has any food allergies or preferences?”

“Um, yeah, I asked him and made notes,” Kon said. He was a bit thrown by the easy acceptance, but he wasn’t going to try to over analyze it. Instead, Kon pulled out his phone and over to the notes he’d made (hopefully stealthily) while they had worked on the project. “So, meat is iffy. He says it depends on the day. But tofu is out. Weirdly also no plain broths, jello, or Gatorade? Or at least not cherry or lime of those.”

Kon didn’t expect Clark to frown at the list. It was a bit weird, sure, but it wasn’t really hard to work around most of that. No meat was the hardest part, but there was always yogurt or PB&J.

“Has Danny been seriously ill?”

Kon looked up from his phone, startled. “What?”

“It’s just that broths, jello, and drinks like Gatorade are often prescribed for something called a ‘clear’ diet that people are put on for certain medical conditions, procedures, or hospital stays. Since Danny ate those things enough for them to be on a no list…”

“Oh." Kon looked back down at the phone in his hands. He took a deep breathe and made himself relax his grip before he broke another phone. “I think there’s been a few times that he’s almost fainted at school and he had a really nasty nose bleed once. You think he’s really sick?”

“I might just be reading into it too much,” Clark said with that ‘trying to soothe civilians’ smile of his.

It didn’t help.

“But that list is no problem at all! I’m happy to pack another lunch. It’s no more work really to do one more. But, you’ll need to pick up a lunch box for him this weekend so I have it for Monday, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll do that. Thank you, ah, Clark.” Dad.

“Of course, Kon. I’m happy to help you out with whatever you need.”

“Thanks, I’ll let you get back to work,” Kon said before he left quickly.

#dp x dc #danny/kon #danny in metropolis

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sturniolohouse · 7 months ago

Text

Junie Laughs - M.S

summary: four month old June laughs for the first time. dad!matt x reader - blurb

"Is daddy just so silly, Junie?" I beam at her belly laughs, each one more contagious than the last.

She has never laughed this hard before, it was a real one.

My heart swells as I record the moment, capturing the joy lighting up her face. Matt looks over at me with wide eyes and I cackle in disbelief of how genuine her laugh is.

At just 4 months old, she's giving us her first real laugh, not the little ones we'd try and poke out of her.

"Do you hear her?" He asks in pure shock, his whole face lit up in awe.

I nod quickly and look back to June, who's sticking her fingers in her mouth and looking up at Matt expectantly.

He leans in close again, using his animated, high-pitched voice, "Who's the cutest, most perfect, most amazing little girl…Junie is! You just love smiling big for daddy, my happy girl."

His excitement mirrors hers, and her squeals grow louder as she kicks her tiny feet, her laughter bubbling over once again.

He tickles her belly and smushes multiple kisses into her cheek, completely unbothered by the slobber coating her face. Her eyes squeeze shut in pure delight and when he pulls back, they pop open immediately, searching for him, eager for more.

She coos at him, dribbling a bit but Matt wipes it away with a his sleeve mindlessly. I get a quick glance at her droopy eyes and I know she's fighting sleep. It's getting close to her bedtime, which we had been doing pretty well with establishing a routine.

Right after her bath, before settling her in the crib, we always lay together in our bed. It’s become our little ritual, just the three of us cuddled close until she gets sleepy enough to drift off.

"Matt, you're getting her all worked up and she has to go to bed," I try to reason with him, but I can't help the smile on my face when she looks in my direction with her sparkling blue eyes. I shift to lie on my stomach next to her, propping my head up on my hand while Matt stays in front of her.

He continues to tickle her, pretending to bite her cheek and smothering her with kisses. Her squeals are so intense, I can hear the little gasps she takes in between, and it makes me a little nervous.

“Matt,” I warn softly, but he’s already backing off, laughing as he does.

He gives her a moment to catch her breath, his hands resting lightly on her belly as she hiccups through the last of her giggles, still smiling up at him. But I can tell her energy is fading fast, her little fists clench and unclench while her eyelids flutter, fighting to stay open.

"But she's so happy," Matt says through a smile, tracing his finger lightly over the curve of her cheek. "Tell mommy you want to stay up and hang with us," he teases, talking to her as she rubs her eyes, her full lips forming a slight pout.

She yawns this time, her tiny hands reaching up for Matt’s face, but her movements are slower now, her head lolling to the side for a moment.

I sigh, knowing it's only a matter of minutes before she's fussy and no longer our happy girl.

"Okay, okay, it’s bedtime, kid," Matt relents, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He lifts her gently off the bed, cradling her close before laying her on his chest and leaning back against the pillows. I join them, resting against the headboard, feeling the calm settle over the room.

June was such a good baby. All the research I did on colic and sleep regressions felt unnecessary in the end. She was the textbook definition of an easy baby.

We got extremely lucky, especially as first-time parents.

The first couple of months of her life, she really just slept most of the time. But now her little personality is starting to set in and every day she's seems to learn something new.

She's been starting to babble more and making tons of sounds now. Her favorite at the moment is "bah-bah," which usually turns into a string of "babababababa" when she's particularly happy. Matt thinks it means she's closer to saying "dada," but I'm pretty sure it's "mama."

Time will tell.

She loves her stuffed black cat that Nick got her when we brought her home. It's sometimes the only thing that will calm her down during a rare meltdown. And Chris? He's her absolute favorite playmate and snuggle buddy. They've formed a sweet routine over these past few weeks. Every morning after her first feeding, they lay together the couch while he slowly wakes up.

It's a little tight with all of us in the house, especially with all of the baby furniture and toys everywhere. But we make it work. It's so much easier than if Matt and I were on our own.

Chris and Nick help us out so much, especially in the mornings so we can catch a break. They usually take over so Matt and I can get showered or run errands.

It truly takes a village to raise a child and we're all learning together.

Junie being so little definitely makes living in such close quarters easier. But we already notice how fast she's growing, and it’s made Matt and I seriously consider getting our own house so everyone can have the space they need. It’s a topic that’s been looming over our heads ever since we brought her home.

As much as we love Nick and Chris around, living under one roof is not realistic long term.

I shake those thoughts away and instead focus back on Junie who's still fighting sleep against Matt's chest, her tiny fingers clenching his shirt.

"Every day I wake up and I can't believe she's real," I say, my voice soft, filled with awe. "I don't even remember life before her,"

Matt smiles warmly, his eyes never leaving June as she starts to drift off. "I know. It's like she's always been part of us."

Her cheek is smushed into his shirt, and her tiny ear rests right over his heart, the steady rhythm lulling her further into sleep.

June always falls asleep easily with any of us, but listening to mine or Matt's heartbeat was a guaranteed way to knock her out.

She melts into him, going limp in his hold as she stares at me through her heavy eyelids. I turn on my side and reach my hand over to trace her soft face. She stops fighting sleep then, succumbing to her tiredness.

Matt gently strokes June's back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against her tiny frame. Once her grip on Matt's shirt loosens completely, I know she's asleep.

"Aaand, she's out cold," I whisper in victory and Matt peeks down at her, a proud smile spreading across his face.

He leans down, placing a long kiss on the top of her head and pausing to inhale deeply.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand how she smells like actual heaven,” he says softly against her hair.

"I know, right? I don't understand it either. I could sniff her head all day," I agree, inching a little closer.

I keep staring at him, and he catches on, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

His expression shifts, a knowing smile creeping onto his face as he realizes I’m watching him closely.

He raises an eyebrow, playful suspicion in his voice. "What?"

"Nothing," I draw out a bit, my eyes fluttering slowly.

"You were staring pretty hard there," he quips back, his gaze flickering to my lips briefly before meeting my eyes again, a mischievous glint in his own.

"You just look really hot with a baby on you," I tease, a smirk tugging on my lips as I watch his face for a reaction.

Matt raises an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. "Easy there."

"M'just saying." I shrug innocently, enjoying seeing him squirm a bit.

His gaze drops to June, then back to me, his grin finally winning. "So, what, are you trying to say I should just walk around with a baby on me all the time now?"

"Wouldn't be the worst thing..." I reply with a smirk, leaning a little closer. Matt shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face as he rubs his eyes.

His chest rises and falls with a quiet chuckle, but June remains blissfully asleep against his chest. "You’re ridiculous, kid."

"Dare I say... DILF?" I tease further, raising an eyebrow.

Matt smirks. "Well, if I'm a DILF, then you're definitely a MILF."

"I would sure fucking hope so. I only carried your child for nine months, went through 20 hours of labor and then birthed her. Seems like the least I could get out of it," I say mainly lightheartedly.

Matt chuckles softly, "Don't worry, sweetheart, you've always been a MILF in my eyes," he says with warmth and affection, his hand finding mine and gently bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.

I snort with a slight chuckle, "Good save."

He winks at me, then looks back down at June, her tiny fingers curled into his shirt. "Seriously though, we made a perfect little human, didn’t we?"

I nod, "Yeah, we really did."

We hear a few gentle knocks at Matt's door, and I softly tell them to come in. The door creaks open slowly, and Chris pops his head in, his usual mischievous grin already on his face. I put a finger over my lips, motioning to June sleeping.

"Aw, is she already out?" he whispers in a sing-song voice, walking over quietly to take a peek at her.

"Yep, just went down." I answer quietly.

He places his hands on his hips and pouts at her, "Sleepy Junie," Chris coos, his expression softening as he watches her sleep.

"Chris, you missed it," I whisper excitedly. "She was losing it before, laughing at Matt. I thought she was going to pass out... I got it all on video."

Chris's eyes widen. "No way! I can't believe I missed it, you gotta send me that shit," he says.

"It was so fucking cute, dude. She'd never laughed like that before," Matt chimes in, shaking his head.

Chris turns his attention back to Matt, rocking back and forth on his feet. I can already tell he’s gearing up to ask for something.

"Dude, you down to play fort for a few? I can't play with Nick again, he's fucking trash." He huffs, taking his hat off to adjust his hair before placing it back on.

Matt glances at me, stifling a laugh before carefully shifting June so she’s cradled more securely against him.

He shakes his head at Chris. "Really, dude? She just fell asleep."

Chris is relentless though, "Bro, come on, just a few rounds," he pleads, eyes darting between Matt and me.

I sigh, turning to Matt and giving him a small smile.

"You can put her in the crib now, she should be okay. Go play for a bit if you want." I nod toward the door, and from the corner of my eye, I catch Chris fist-pumping in silent victory.

Matt is grown and doesn't need my permission for anything, especially playing video games with his brother. But I know he would never go without me giving the green light.

"You sure?" Matt asks, glancing between me and June.

"Yeah, go ahead. I’m going to read for a bit" I reassure him with a smile.

He hesitates for a moment, clearly torn, before he finally relents, nodding. "Alright, I’ll be back in a bit."

As he carefully stands up, cradling June in his arms, I watch Chris bouncing on his heels, clearly excited.

I hear Junie's soft grunts as Matt places her in the crib in the corner of the room. We ended up having to move his desk up to the loft where the old podcast room was.

Matt shushes her gently, pausing for a second and watching her, making sure she's fully settled. He stands up and lets out a breath of relief when she doesn't wake up, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

He turns to me with a small, tired smile, like we've just dodged a tiny grenade.

"That was close," he whispers, shaking his head as he steps back from the crib. "Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be back in a couple hours," Matt tells me as Chris waits for him by the door.

I nod. "Oh, Chris?"

"Yeah?" He answers, rubbing his hands together.

"If you wake up June with your screaming, you're the one putting her back to bed." I say with a sweet smile, and I see Matt cover his mouth as he laughs softly.

Chris freezes. his eyes wide before sheepishly nodding. "Noted."

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #dad!matt #sturniolohouse #matt sturniolo blurb

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