#had that one on and off repeat for a few months now. meant to check em out for years but only heard that song recently

[toovaeloe]

bus stop 𝝑𝝔 “If I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

suguru geto x genderneutral reader

no curse au

You’ve used the “I have a boyfriend” excuse and you may have just manifested one. Or a gorgeous man, at the very least

☁️🚏☁️

This was the worst, you think. Had to be punishment for something you did in a past life.

For starters, you were late for work. Was it your fault for staying up so late, giggling and doom-scrolling through mounds of mind numbing media? Yeah, maybe…

Let’s blame it on the weather. Your alarm didn’t wake you up after you silenced it. The neighbor’s dog wouldn’t stop barking through the night. But it’s not like you could tell your boss any off that.

So that’s why you raced out the door, haphazardly juggling your belongings in your arms. Wallet. Keys. Phone. Something else you couldn’t quite remember at the moment. Did you have everything? Probably; no time to check now. Only to find when you stomped on the brake and turned the key in the ignition…your car wouldn’t start.

Sputter…sputter…and then nothing.

Great.

There’s your late-to-work-excuse.

Maybe you shouldn’t have ignored the “maintenance needed” symbols that have been lighting up your dash like they want their own holiday. To be fair, time and money just weren’t things that came in abundance.

In any case, as you were sitting in that local garage enduring the mechanic babbling on about vehicle expertise junk you just couldn’t begin to understand, zoning out and nodding every few minutes with a halfhearted “hmm,” so it at least looked like you were absorbing information…you made note to at least revisit the idea of changing your smoke alarm’s batteries before it decided to turn on you, too.

But that was last week.

7-9 business days.

That’s how long until your car would be up and running again. Apparently, according to the mechanic, you were lucky it was even that. Apparently. Which meant you needed some other means of transportation to and from work and such.

Lucky you had the local bus service, right?

WRONG.

They were always late, but you still felt the need to get to the stops on time, lest you have a repeat of 5 days ago. (You showed up only 2 minutes late and were left behind at the store. Had to wait for an hour for your friend to get off her shift and come pick you up.) You highly doubted it, but what with the way the world was shitting on you right now, it wasn’t out of the question. And the city’s money obviously wasn’t going towards public transportation— they could qualify as garbage trucks if they really needed them with how trashed they were. Mystery sticky patches on the seat, gum underneath. The inconsolable children whining their heads off. That was kind of cute at first, but now it made you want to throw yourself out the window. The whole thing was just the experience that you could expect from a free public transportation system.

And why was it so rainy this month??? Ugh.

But what could you do but make do with what you had? Complaining definitely wasn’t making your shoes any less waterlogged. Be grateful, or some shit like that.

That evening, however, as you were waiting twenty minutes past the time the bus was supposed to arrive at the stop after an exhausting work day…you were just so fed up with everything. With the puddle water soaking through your shoes, with the way you had to stand because the benches were damp…with this rando-guy who had walked up next to you that you were half sure kept looking at you. To say the least, it only served to annoy you in your already sour mood.

You were willing to just ignore it. Until he stepped closer.

“Hey I’m uh…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you around.”

Oooohh boy.

“Yeah, yeah, it is you. I’ been taking the bus sometimes. Usually I’m riding my motorcycle but uh, not today.”

Did you ask?

“Thought I’d drop by.”

The public bus stop. (???)

“What’s yer name, toots?”

Yeah no. Go back to the 1950’s and maybe that’d work there. You’d rather lick the mystery sticky shit off the bus seat. You could pick up a date 10x better without opposable thumbs.

All of the above is what you would’ve liked to say. Alas, you were tired. You didn’t want trouble that would take more energy than it was worth. So before he could go any further, you just coined the foolproof line.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Lie. You didn’t, but it was the first thing that came to mind. And if that didn’t make him lose interest, then he must really be a pathetic asswipe.

Sadly, he was. In terms of getting the hint to shut up, the guy looked barely deterred; offended even, as he prattled on.

“Well why were you acting so into me then, huh?” You definitely didn’t. You don’t even know this dude.

“I wasn’t even going for you.” He definitely was.

“You’re—“ X, Y, and Z. Just because his game is trifling?? You felt a headache coming on. And maybe a bout of anxiety. People are crazy, and the last thing you wanted was for this needless situation to escalate into something dangerous.

The entire mess was occurring just as Suguru was making the commute to work on the same street. But he found himself slowing nearly to a stop when he caught sight of you.

How could a person look so exhausted; hair extra frizzy, floccose from the humid rain, clothes soaked, droplets of the downpour dribbling onto your cheeks and blinked away from your lashes…and still so breathtaking? Or perhaps that was part of your beauty in this moment. You looked every bit done with the day, but who knew when- if— he’d ever see you again? He’d be stupid, a fool to not at least try to strike up a conversation with you. He’d be…

…Probably like that idiot.

A sulky moue twisted at his expression as he witnessed the disgraceful way this loser was fumbling. Oh dear. His approach lacked so much grace, so much respect…it was really just distasteful. You didn’t deserve that. And frankly, he didn’t think he deserved to watch you be treated like that when he knew he could do so much better.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

A merry sounding tone directed your way had your head sharply whipping to the source. A tall dark haired man you’ve never seen before; layered in a gray colored quarter zip and dark slacks, you think. His approach was casual and relaxed, a subtly jovial yet inherently guileful grin tugging at his lips. He even waved to you like an old friend. His entire facade was so convincing you considered for a moment if you had known him from somewhere and simply forgotten.

No, you really wouldn’t have forgotten a face like that. Eyes like those. A presence so contrasting of itself and yet so cohesive in its own way, if you had to try and describe it. Just a damn beautiful man. With eyebrows that were beginning to crease on his forehead.

Ooh, you were staring.

More than that, he was giving you a pointed look that you didn’t notice while drooling over the poor guy. Unfortunately for you, slo-mo’s only happened in movies, and in reality you just looked like an ogling dork. But you didn’t have time to dwell on your embarrassment when he was quite obviously urging you to play along with this illusion he was creating.

And so you did.

“Oh- hi! No worries,” You insisted in an awkward attempt to adapt to this new charade.

“‘Hasn’t been that long,” though your reaction to his presence wasn’t as well-articulated, it was convincing enough.

The other dude looked to be at least somewhat suspicious, and might’ve spoken on it if wasn’t for Geto’s scrutinizing gaze and a simple raise of his brow.

“Can I help you?” And just for good measure, he’d wrap his arm around you, sliding his hand into your coat pocket as if he’s done it a million times before to pull you closer against him. Whatever glare this ravenette man was glowering down the length of his nose at this guy with must’ve been scarring, because he murmured some half-assed excuse before scampering away.

You idly wondered how’d he get wherever he was going without the bus.

Or maybe you’d have more time to think about it if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting, acutely aware of the unworldly attractive man’s hand resting just over your hip.

“Sorry,” Geto spoke after a few beats, languidly retracting his arm from your coat and back to his side. “You looked like you were about to burst a blood vessel entertaining him. I hope I didn’t overstep. Y’know, with your boyfriend and all.” He had to have overheard you earlier.

But the way he spoke made it sound as if he doubted that fact, glancing to either side of you as if to say That is nowhere in sight..? without being so overtly rude. Or maybe he just wasn’t all that apologetic.

“That-! Yeah,” You pepped with a nervous pitter of laughter, “yeah…it’s not a problem, thanks.”

Your hand gravitated to the zipper of your jacket, absentmindedly fiddling with it as you frantically thought up an at least half decent explanation. One that wouldn’t make you sound more clumsy than you already felt.

“He’s not real, so he won’t mind.”

Yeah, real smooth. What was that you said; about being able to pick up a date without opposable thumbs? You’d need at least ten pairs of hands.

But Suguru didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his grin widened into something toothy and almost boyish, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that added an innocent charm to his otherwise elegant features. He found it endearing.

“Perfect,” His response was coupled with a discreet chuckle.

“Don’t feel obligated,” He’d continue as he reached to the side of you. So close to brushing your shoulder, it made your breath hitch. Though truly he was reaching around you, sharply tearing a flier from the side of the bus stop and pulling a pen from one of his pockets. If you were paying more attention you’d have noticed the glint of impish amusement in his umber eyes that led one to believe that action was more deliberate than he let on.

Still, he’d make quick work of jotting down a phone number and the address of a nice restaurant he’s been meaning to try with Satoru— but plans change. “but I’d like to take you out. I was on my way over to ask you, anyhow.”

He offered the page to you; his handwriting as sumptuous and calligraphic as you would’ve expected his penmanship to be; in the margins of some tacky ad for a lawn mowing service. As you went to accept the paper, however, he rescinded it from reach. All whilst drawing closer so that his piercing dark amber eyes held your gaze with an unwavering intensity. The kind that made your stomach do flips and stole your breath away.

“And for the record,” He spoke quietly but poised; a conspiratorial whisper for only you, him, and the rain to witness. “if I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

There wasn’t time to react; he was already slipping the page into your pocket, withdrawing to a comfortable proximity all the while waving you off and wishing you well with a kind smile, disappearing someplace else.

You didn’t even catch his name.

At least your bus was here.

a/n: I had something to say but I totally forgot 😭

OH but I did add an upcoming section to my masterlist so you can see my works in the works if you’d like! 🤍 always open to ideas too

Dear god I crave geto with that loose low bun that’s barely a bun kind of hairstyle. Ykwim???

ty for reading 🤍🤍🤍 love you have a lovely lovely day or night

edit: OMG THATS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY. I kept accidentally writing bust stop instead of bus stop as I wrote this. So, sorry if you bust

☁️☁️☁️

[seokgyuu]

Strawberry Wine - Part 1

Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this part) MDNI!

Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancé, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.

Warnings (in this part): mentions of cheating, alcohol consumption, angst, probably a not so good description of paris tbh, the word "cock" is mentioned once, slight sexual tension

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: hi everyone!! this is part one of my story for the world tour collab hostes by @svthub!! check out the masterlist here! this one is a bit of a... beginning, i guess, lol. the real drama and smut and all that will be in part two. but i still think this is a a fun part to get to know our characters! this not beta read and i might edit it later... thanks for reading i hope you enjoy <3 header & divider credit to @okiedokrie!

one; the author

The flash of the camera goes off and you’re almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, you’re holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancée cheating two weeks ago. 

You’re aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you don’t think you’ll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since you’re both making money, of course. You can’t count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras. 

Her books weren’t even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books. 

“Hi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I can’t wait for the next one!” It’s a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.

“Thank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?” 

The book signing ends about half an hour later. You’re in the car with Minghao who’s typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you. 

“You did great, you know.” He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well. 

“Thanks,” is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didn’t come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.

“Best friend dearest,” he starts, “you know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you don’t know.”

“It’s my job after all, isn’t it?” 

“No, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.”

Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. You’d be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, it’s different. 

Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time. 

The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. It’s not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you can’t get back up. That all you’re able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole. 

It’s hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure you’d spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you. 

For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life? 

To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her. 

It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldn’t handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasn’t like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didn’t have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on ‘booktok’, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months there’d be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with. 

Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything. 

It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you don’t love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you don’t miss him as much as you used to. 

“Do you want to grab a drink?” Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.

“I need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.”

Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what he’s done to you.

Fighting with a french man on the phone at the crack of dawn surely had not been on your agenda for today. 

“I’m sorry, miss, but the cancellation period ended two weeks ago, there is nothing we can do.” 

It’s too early and you are too tired. He is probably too by now, considering he has been saying this sentence at least five times in the past seven minutes. You pull a hand through your hair and let it drop back onto the mattress after.

“My wedding isn’t happening anymore, and you really won’t let me cancel the honeymoon suite?” Usually, you’d never snap at anyone over the phone - especially custom service personnel, but this is different. What he’s implying means you won’t get any money back from one of the most expensive purchases you’ve made. Worst thing about this: you paid for this yourself. Jaehyun had paid the location - which of course could still be canceled. But the freaking hotel stay in Paris of course was set in stone! 

“I am very sorry, miss. I wish there was more that I could do. Perhaps you can take the trip yourself and enjoy our beautiful honeymoon sui-“

You hang up on him. It’s not polite, you’re aware. But just the thought of being alone in the suite you were supposed to enjoy with your freshly baked husband… no, absolutely not. Then, fine, you’d have to live with having spent thousands of dollars on a hotel suite you wouldn’t be able to use. 

As if life isn’t horrible enough already.

When you sit at brunch later that day with Minghao and your mutual friend Mingyu, they both stare at you like you’ve just told them you decided to get Jaehyun’s face tattooed on your thigh. 

“Are you kidding me? You basically get to have a Paris vacation for free for yourself!” Mingyu says, the glass of mimosa he is holding in his hand is almost spilling with the way he moves his arm. You scoff.

“What do you mean “free”? I literally paid for it months ago!” 

“Okay, and did you already make that money back?” Mingyu continues and raises his brow. You stay silent for a moment. 

The restaurant Minghao chose is filled with people enjoying the vegan food made from scratch. Your own very delicious avocado toast with a side of fresh fruit and soy-yogurt is laying in front of you, waiting to be eaten. The mimosa Minghao had ordered for you remains untouched. 

“She has.” Hao decides to answer for you as he sips from his mug of matcha. You shoot him a glare.

“So what! I’m not going to go to Paris by myself when this was supposed to be my honeymoon!” You try to stay quiet, looking from Minghao to Mingyu and back. Judging by their faces, they don’t seem to understand the big deal. 

You envy them. God, how much you wish you could just do it. Go on that already paid for vacation by yourself, not give a single damn about Jaehyun and his new girlfriend. Your heart sinks. Just thinking these words is making you feel like crawling back into bed. 

Minghao groans and puts his mug back on the table. 

“Y/N,” he starts and his voice sounds more serious than you’ve ever heard him talk before - even Mingyu seems startled, “I get it, okay? I get that he hurt you, that he made you believe in something that was never going to work. He is an asshole, if not the biggest asshole walking freely on this earth. But you’re young! You’re young and you deserve better than this! Keeping to yourself, barely leaving your apartment - your bed, honey, it’s not good for you. I understand that you want to stay away, that the world is a fucking scary place without the person you thought was your person right there next to you,” he grabs your hand over the table, “but do you know what all of this means? That your person is still out there! That you can still find them! And what better place to start than Paris, the literal city of love!”

He means well. Just like the other night after the book signing. He means well and he wants just what’s best for you. No one wants you to feel better as much as he does. Then why does it make you so mad that he is asking this of you? That he is calling you out this way? 

You pull your hand away from his and grab your purse from the free chair next to yours. Both men gawk at you, startled.

“Y/N-,” Mingyu tries, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

“You get it, Hao? Really? Has your significant other of five years also cheated on you with your biggest rival? Did you also have to cancel a wedding you put hours and hours of work and money into? Because I don’t remember this happening to you! So, I would really appreciate it if you gave me the time I need to grieve this relationship and decide for myself when I am ready to get out again!”

Without giving them another look, you storm out of the restaurant. Everything around you is a blurr and you only notice that you’re crying when you reach your car. Cursing to yourself, you move to open your car, tears dripping from your cheeks down onto your shirt. God, what a pathetic little woman. Crying in your car after yelling at your best friends for what? For caring? For only meaning to help? 

It takes a while before you manage to start the engine and get on the road to drive home. The radio is silent and for a second you wished you could turn off your brain the same way. Just one switch and all thoughts gone. All the self doubts and the hurt, all the thoughts of what-if and the wish to travel back in time and never have you take his iPad. 

You stop at a red light and wipe away some more tears. You don’t dare to look into the mirror and check your make-up. 

Never finding the iPad, you circle back, if you had never found it, you wouldn’t be in this situation. No, you’d most likely still be in a relationship with a man that cheated on you. That didn’t love you half as much as he claimed, that didn’t deserve the time and care you’d given him. 

When the light turns green, you continue your way, your thoughts still roaming around the what if. And while your heart yearns for him back, for what you believed you had - your head knows it’s better this way. Jaehyun isn’t the one for you, as much as you would have loved him to be, Minghao is right. It’s just that the thought of starting over with someone new makes you cringe, makes fear rise within you. Someone new to give your heart to and hope they don’t break it the way Jae had. 

Once you’re on the highway you think back about the time you had decided to travel to Paris for your honeymoon. It had been your idea, your wish. Your first ever book, even if it never made it onto a bestseller list or into the mouths of the best romance critics - it was set in Paris. The city of live, the city you decided would become your favorite even though you had never been. Spending two weeks there with the love of your life after becoming his forever, seriously, nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that. 

Minghao’s words ring in your ear. Your person is still out there, he said. And that Paris, as the city of love, would be the perfect place to go look for them. Your knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. You never wanted to spend time in Paris with anyone but Jaehyun. 

Or maybe, you think as you take the exit leading to your neighborhood, the only Person you need to spend time with in Paris is yourself. 

two; the lost soul

He never should have listened to Jeonghan. No one should ever listen to Jeonghan. The cab driver is speaking in quick french that Jihoon knows he wouldn’t understand even if he spelled out every word for him. Then again, he isn’t even sure the driver is talking to him or just about him. Jihoon can’t really blame him. After all, he is the stupid American with the stupid big guitar case and a backpack almost bigger than himself. 

The backseat is hot and Jihoon’s sunglasses do little to keep the sun from blinding him. 

Paris in the summer sounded better on paper than it does actually experiencing it. It’s nothing compared to the summer in Arizona, where Jihoon grew up, but having lived in Vermont for a while now, he wasn’t used to the burning hot, scorching sun that threatened to give him the sunburn of his life if he didn’t re-apply his sunscreen every few hours. 

Tara had always laughed at him and his easily burned skin. She never burned, no, she got a tan right away, looking beautiful in the rays of sunshine dazzling on her skin like they belonged there. 

Right now, he misses her more than he has in a while. When he passes the beautiful architecture of his first love’s favorite city, he smiles even with the sun shining directly into his eyes. 

In all seriousness, Jihoon doesn’t know why he is here. It feels wrong to be here without her, but it also felt like he had to take the invitation from his friend. She would have never forgiven him, if he let this opportunity fly. Visit the city of love, the city she had always dreamt about, he knows as wrong as it feels, it’s the right thing to do. 

A few minutes later, the cab stops in front of an old looking building. Without saying anything, the driver takes Jihoon’s Euros and drives off after heaving Jihoon’s suitcase out of his trunk. 

Jihoon looks after the car, his dark hair falling into his forehead. Once the cab takes the next corner, he looks at the building, something stirring in his stomach. This… doesn’t look like the pictures on AirBnb at all. Quickly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, happy he booked the data package at the airport back home. Opening his app, he feels like he’s about to throw up his airplane food.

It’s not there. The apartment is gone from the app, not newly put in under a different name, not just gone because of a glitch. It’s like it never existed. Jihoon curses, moving his fingers over his screen, calling the customer service only to be met with a french speaking automatic voice that doesn’t help him in the slightest. 

Hanging up again, he stares at his phone for a few seconds. He shouldn’t have come. It feels too much like a sign. Maybe he should try changing his flight to this evening, maybe he should try to run after that cab and-

The phone in his hands rings and he quickly picks up.

“Hello?”

“Jihoonie!” It’s Jeonghan, the only reason he is in Paris in the first place, “did you make it to the city of love?”

“Yeah, and I wish I didn’t,” Jihoon mumbles in response, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Why? What happened?” Jeonghan does sound concerned, which might be a first.

“My Airbnb doesn’t exist.”

Silence. Jihoon just knows his friend is trying his hardest not to laugh. Oh, to be Yoon Jeonghann and always get entertained by his friends’ miseries. 

“Jeonghan, this isn’t funny, okay? I’m about to call another cab and get my ass back home.”

“No! No, you can’t go home! You’re here and I’m going to make sure these will be two of the most amazing weeks of your life, alright? Look, instead of home, get your ass to my hotel. I think I might have a solution for your problem.”

When Jeonghan texts him the address and Jihoon hails another cab, he doesn’t dare to hope that his friend has an actual solution. 

Perhaps Jihoon should have asked Jeonghan more thoroughly what kind of Hotel he works at. Because this looks very different to the building Jihoon just left. This is art, this is a fancy hotel in the middle of Paris’ most elegant streets, people in expensive clothes walking around Jihoon who has only a backpack and a guitar on his back. Jihoon gapes at the building, words he has read a million times suddenly filling his head, suddenly coming to life.

The façade of the hotel stands proudly on the bustling Parisian street, an exquisite testament to classical elegance and modern charm. The building’s cream-colored stonework is adorned with intricate carvings and ornate embellishments, each detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Above the entrance, a grand arch frames a large window, its glass shimmering in the soft light of the early evening.

Striped blue-and-white awnings shade the windows, their cheerful colors contrasting beautifully with the building’s stately architecture. Delicate wrought-iron balconies extend from the upper floors, offering glimpses of lush potted plants and inviting chairs, perfect for an intimate evening under the stars.

The entrance is framed by deep blue columns, and a passageway, warm light spills out from within, hinting at the luxurious interior that awaits guests. A pair of elegant lanterns flank the doorway, casting a gentle glow on the stone steps below.

Above the entrance, a crest adorned with elaborate scrollwork and a regal shield stands as a proud emblem of the hotel’s storied history. The name of the hotel is etched in graceful letters, a promise of the enchanting experience that lies within. 

He doesn’t dare to move from where he is standing. Doesn’t dare to step foot into the hotel that looks exactly the way he had envisioned the one Tara would always read to him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin and he swears there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. This must be a dream, a different reality, because there is no way Jeonghan works here. 

But when Jihoon lets his eyes wander over the façade and into one of the magnificent windows - he spots his friend. Spots him on the phone behind the wooden counter, writing something down. He is here and this is real. 

So, Jihoon slowly moves. One foot before the other, eyes glued to the entrance, nis heart beating in his chest. He feels silly, but he wonders if Tara had seen this as clear as he had back when she had read the book to him over and over again. 

A welcome warmth meets Jihoon inside. It’s just as beautiful as the outside, he finds, his stomach turning over once more. 

The lobby exudes a warm, inviting glow, courtesy of the golden chandeliers that hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft light over the polished marble floors. Rich hues of deep blue and soft gold dominate the color palette, creating a sense of opulence and sophistication. Jeonghan stands behind the mahogany desk, still talking on the phone, still not spotting Jihoon. 

Jihoon, who feels so insanely out of place in his worn out jeans and the old leather jacket, with his hair unkempt and his eyebrow pierced. He moves over to the front desk, trying his hardest not to care about the stares he is getting from the people who clearly know he doesn’t actually belong here.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up when he sees him, a wide smile now on his lips as he holds up a finger as if to tell Jihoon to just be a little more patient. Jihoon carefully puts his hands on the top of the counter, his eyes roaming the lobby again. 

“Of course, we can’t wait to have you back here again so soon, Miss Jones. Have a great day, bye bye!” 

Jihoon’s eyes fly over to Jeonghan again when he hears the phone click. 

“You’re actually here!” Jeonghan’s smile grows and he moves forward to give Jihoon probably the most awkward hug of his life over the counter. Jihoon laughs at that, patting his friend on the back. 

“Well, it’s either this or the streets,” he smiles, “you never told me how… grant all of this is.” He gestures with his hands, as if to make sure Jeonghan knows he means the hotel. His blonde haired friend chuckles.

“Yeah, I thought it would come off like bragging if I did say so. I never would have heard the end of it from the boys.”

Jihoon nods. He knows exactly what Jeonghan means. Still. He can’t shake the feeling that if he had known about this… his stomach drops again.

“It’s beautiful.” Is all he eventually says, ignoring the worried look of his friend. Jihoon doesn’t know (and Jeonghan will never tell him) but there was a reason he had never mentioned this to him. 

“That, it is,” Jeonghan finally responds, wiping the worry off his face and replacing it with a broad smile, “and you will get to live here for the next two weeks!”

“I will what?!” Jihoon’s eyes widen in surprise, “Jeonghan, I can barely pay rent at home, what do you-,”

“Obviously for free, dummy,” Jeonghan chuckles, “we have a free suite that has already been paid for, full price.”

Jihoon raises his brows, his hands feeling damp on top of the fancy counter.

“How come it’s free when it’s fully paid?” He asks.

“Well, there was supposed to be a wedding and…. now there isn’t one. They didn’t meet the requirements for the full or the partial refund. So, it’s free for the next two weeks since we can’t legally double book. You want it?”

It feels a little bit too good to be true, but Jihoon is in no place to turn down Jeonghan’s offer. The little voice in his head is trying to get to him, trying to make him speak the words to himself. It tries to get him to admit that this feels a lot like fate. Like a sign from above, from Tara. He doesn’t let it get to him. He’s not ready for that, and he’s certainly not melancholic enough for thoughts like this - even as a songwriter. 

“I do, thank you, Han, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

“Oh, most certainly sleep on the streets. Find a rat for a friend, or maybe a pigeon. They are crazy over here,” Jeonghan sings as he types something in the computer, scanning one of the key cards he takes from the drawer beneath him. Jihoon watches him with his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Yeah, never been a big fan of rats. Or pigeons.” Jihoon dares to look around the lobby again, seeing all those people living their life, probably never worried about any of the things he worries about. He wasn’t lying when he said he has trouble paying his rent. Work hasn’t been easy these days. 

“Aaaaand, here we go!” Jeonghan grins brightly, “your key, Mr. Lee.” He holds it mid air, pulling it back slightly as Jihoon is trying to grab it. The latter gives him a funny look. Jeonghan pouts as he thinks.

“That rhymes. “Your key, Mr. Lee”.” Jihoon closes his eyes for a second. Jeonghan chuckles happily.

“Watch out, I’m coming for your job.”

“Well, stop it and do yours instead,” Jihoon replies, allowing himself to grin back at his friend and take the card from his hands, “where is this suite you promised me?”

-

Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned what kind of suite this is. There is nothing Jihoon can do but stare at his surroundings with his mouth and backpack dropped, his guitar slowly sliding down his arm. 

He is in the honeymoon suite. In retrospect, it makes sense. Jeonghan did say a wedding had been canceled. 

There are three rooms. Right now, Jihoon is standing in the enormous entrance way. Golden and blue like downstairs, with wood accents, a big round table in the center of the room that connected all the different rooms, a centerpiece of flowers as beautiful as a summer day adjoining it. The walls are high and plastered with fine drawing, ornating through all of the hallway and over to the other rooms. Flowers and patterns so elegant Jihoon doesn’t know how to even describe them. 

He feels out of place as much as he feels content. Letting his luggage rest on the floor, he moves into the first room. It’s a large sitting room, probably as big as his whole apartment back at home. Two couches of rich dark blue; cushions in different colors, some of them reminding Jihoon of the ocean, some of the sky, rich blues and light blues, and then there is the color of dawn, orange and yellow. 

A majestic cremé colored carpet lays beneath the sofas, a glass table standing between them. On top of it magazine stacks and a glass tray holding what looks like whiskey and two glasses. High windows let the sun shine through and Jihoon spots a balcony leading around the living- and bedroom, holding his breath as he imagines himself out there softly strumming his guitar with a glass of whiskey or wine. His heart warms at the thought of finally having peace. Peace in the city his former lover had loved so much. 

Next up he walks into the bedroom, a king sized bed greets him with white linen covers and pillows almost as big as his torso. It looks incredibly comfortable and he couldn’t wait to lay down and relax after the day he’s had. Golden curtains sway in the wind let in by an opened window, and the view is so poetic he almost feels himself tear up. Quickly, he looks away and instead finds his way into the master bathroom. It’s all held in gold as well, gold and white for a change, an enormous tub next to a high rain shower behind a glass wall. He sighs.

This is perfect. And he most definitely needs a shower right now. 

So, he retraces his steps and grabs his luggage, setting everything down next to the bed and letting his guitar rest in the corner of the room. He decides to actually unpack his backpack that probably doesn’t even hold as much clothes as he probably needs for this trip (he did think he had a washer, though) and places everything in the large closet opposite the bed. 

Finding himself humming, Jihoon allows a little bit more of that earlier peace to find place in his head and heart. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be worried - to look for something to go terribly wrong on this trip. Jeonghan is off work by now, and they’ll go catch dinner together, then he’ll come back here and maybe watch a movie, fall asleep to the sound of Paris outside his window. He doesn’t know what it sounds like just yet, but he’s already excited to find out. 

Ridding himself of his clothes and feeling another threat of tears when he touches the towels hanging in the bathroom, Jihoon finally lets himself step into the shower and wash all of his worries away. 

three; the mix-up

You don’t think your heart has ever beaten as fast as it does when you walk out the Charles de Gaulle airport and right into the arms of the driver Minghao has arranged for you. It’s not about the driver or the airport - but where you are. 

Paris, the city of love, the city you feared to visit after what had happened with Jae. Yet, here you stand. Handing the driver your luggage and fishing for your phone in your purse, texting Minghao you already found your driver and are now on the way to the hotel. It all feels surreal and like you’re going to wake up any second.

Minghao forgave you without hesitation. Hugged you close to his chest and cried with you as you told him you were sorry and that he was right. You needed to do this - needed to face your demons. Together, the two of you had finalized the plans, popping open a bottle of expensive champagne and gossiping about Jaehyun and who he left you for. Little by little, you knew, you would find yourself again. And perhaps Paris was the perfect way to start. 

The drive from the airport to the hotel was spent staring out the window. First you saw the highway leading from the airport to the city - greenery with trees on each side, all passing by you in a blurr. And then the beautiful streets of Paris. The fine architecture, the elegant bridges over the Seine. Heart warming at the sight of the city you dreamt about so much. Your first ever book had taken place right here, you had let your main characters kiss for the first time right there on that bridge leading from one side of Paris to the other, so close to the Louvre, to the glass pyramid you made them fight and make up all the same, just months apart. The sun is dazzling onto the dark water of the river, light dancing on the surface. 

The driver comes to a stop in front of the hotel about 45 minutes after your departure from Charles de Gaulle. He holds open the door for you and helps you out of the car, smiling at you warmly and finally getting your bags out of the trunk. You thank him in some broken French and he nods at you before finding his way back to the driver’s seat. 

One of the bell-boys spot you right when you walk in, their English sounding a bit like your French just now. You thank them and hand over your luggage, letting them help you carry it to the mahogany reception.

It is exactly like you remember it. You had never seen it in person, no. But you’ve found this hotel during your research, falling in love with it right away. It was a no-brainer that your honeymoon was to be held here. 

You felt overwhelmed at the sight of the colors you had tried so hard to bring to paper, at the sound of soft music in the background, at the knowledge this was real and you were gonna stay here for two whole weeks. 

Finally, you reach the counter where a small man stands and smiles up at you, his hair styled back.

“Welcome, how can I help you?” He says in perfect English and you place your hands on top of the counter.

“Hi,” you tell him your name, “I have a reservation.”

The man nods, looking up the reservation and finding it right away. Not marked as checked in, he notes and gives you another big smile.

“It is wonderful to have you, Miss. Will your husband be joining you?” 

You expected as much. While it does hurt a little, having to say these next words, you know it’s a step in the right direction.

“I will be staying here alone, thank you.”

It is more beautiful than you could have imagined and it takes you a whole lot not to start crying. Your luggage gets brought up by the nice bell-boys and you thank them by tipping them each 50 Euros. Their smiles make the loss of the money worthwhile. 

Once the door closes behind them, you dare to look around. See the beautiful entrance way in all its glory. See the living room in all it’s elegance, the high ceiling and windows, the smaller bedroom with a queen sized bed and a little reading nook, two ceiling high bookshelves standing around a comfortable looking loveseat. This must be what heaven looks like. 

There is nothing that can wipe that smile off your face. Everything inside you tingles with happy excitement, moving to go look at the master bedroom with the on-suite bathroom you remembered staring at for at least five minutes when you booked the room. Imagining yourself in the enormous bathtub with a glass of champagne and classical music playing, letting all the stress and hurt from the past months fade away with the notes. 

You don’t notice the closet and how there are clothes hanging inside it. Neither do you see the guitar case in the corner of the room. It fascinates you - how your mind tricks you into thinking you already hear the sound of water running, accompanied by humming along to a tune. Magnificent, what the mind can do. 

When you finally reach for the doorknob to push it down, yanking the door open in one swift move, you realize perhaps your mind isn’t as magnificent as you thought.

Jihoon doesn’t notice you until you scream. He swirls around, which is inherently a foolish thing to do inside a wet, slippery shower, his eyes widening whe spots you, reacting to your scream by screaming himself. He realizes he’s naked and tries to find something to cover him, taking a step forward to reach for the towel and forgetting there is literally a glass wall separating you two. 

Watching the man walk face-first into the glass and stumbling back, slipping on the wet floors and falling onto his ass would have made you laugh if it wasn’t inside your shower. 

“What the hell!” You yell, turning around so you don’t look at the naked man any longer.

“Who are you?!” He yells back and you almost gasp.

“I should ask you that!”

The two of you need to yell because Jihoon has not yet managed to turn the shower off. Only now does he (while rubbing his hurting back) get up, struggling in the process, his hand finding the lever to turn off the water. His nose hurts and his ass and his back. 

He moves out of the shower without running into glass this time, and wraps one of the soft towels around his waist. 

“I’m Jihoon,” he finally says. You think you’re suddenly stuck in a really bad movie.

“That- you’re telling me your name?!” You turn around again, staring at the stranger with disbelief in your eyes. 

“You did ask who I was, didn’t you?”

For a few moments the two of you continue to stare at each other. With every passing second you notice just how naked he is. Yes, there is a towel around him now, but you certainly did not… miss what was under there when you first walked in. As much as you don’t want to, your eyes scan the stranger, or well, Jihoon as he told you, stopping at his wet torso, the defined abs and the broad chest. He might be small in height but the rest of him seems… big. 

You swallow.

“If you’re done checking me out, would you mind telling me why you’re in my room?”

Heat spreads through your body and right into your face, your eyes jumping from his torso to his face.

“Your room? I’m sorry, this is my room!”

While Jihoon did hit his head, he isn’t hurt enough not to understand that you’re most likely telling the truth. But Jeonghan had said the wedding was off… that you wouldn’t come here. So, why on earth, where you here?

“I- I can explain,” he begins, taking a step forward only for you to take a step backward. He holds out his hand as if to signal he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Go right ahead,” you hate that your voice is shaking, but it’s not like it is an everyday occurrence you find a beautiful stranger in your hotel room. If this wasn’t your actual life but a book this might have been sexy, might have led to the bed behind you finding the two strangers entangled, giving in to the sexual tension between them. Not that there was any of that in this situation.

“My friend, Jeonghan, he- he works here. He told me this suite wouldn’t be used and so I- well he asked me if I wanted to stay here for my trip after I told him my airbnb didn’t actually exist and I needed a, uh, a place to stay.”

You blink at him.

“He just- he gave you my honeymoon suite for free?

Jihoon swallows.

“Well…,” he thinks a little longer on his answer, “yes. Yes, he did.”

Telling the truth is probably his best bet. 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“As you can see, I am here. So, please, find somewhere else to stay.”

Jihoon saw it coming, obviously. It was all too good to be true. Without saying anything else, he walks over to the closet, ready to dress himself. Just that he didn’t quite calculate the new luggage now laying in front of the bed. 

It all seems to happen in slow motion.

Jihoon tripping over your suitcase, his hands desperate trying to find something to hold on to before he falls. As if on reflex, you grab his arm, yanking him up so he doesn’t fall flatly on his face, just that you somehow manage to yank him so hard, you fall off balance. With a high pitched squeak, you fall onto the bed, Jihoon landing on top of you, his towel falling off in the process of the fall and save. 

A naked man is on top of you, brown eyes wide with shock staring into yours. His hands somehow moved right to the sides of your head as if to catch himself from falling even further on top of you. 

You can feel him. Feel his breath on your face, his skin on yours, his friend against your thigh. More heat rises, your face, your neck, your chest, your core. It’s bad. This shouldn’t be happening right now. 

The two of you are so engulfed in the moment, you don’t even realize when the door opens yet again. When voices you would normally recognize without trouble seem to fail your ears this time. Jihoon’s face so close to yours - way too distracting.

“What the fuck?!” 

Realization hits you at the same time as recognition and you gasp, your knee coming up, right into Jihoon’s lower parts, a yelp escaping him as he slides off the bed, hands now covering his private area and his face in a grimace of sheer pain. 

You don’t even notice it. Not really, at least. Now it’s not his face that’s distracting you but the one you used to love for so many years.

“Jaehyun?” You whisper. And for a second you think he came here to make amends, to win you back, to get on his knees and apologize - then you spot her walking in, her eyes scanning the room with distaste. 

“Who is that?” Jaehyun asks and you feel your blood boil. 

“What are you doing here?” You ignore his question. He isn’t looking at you, but at Jihoon still on the floor. 

“Oh, well, you know. We thought that it would be such a waste to let this suite go to waste,” it is her who answers you now, her deep red manicured hands now curling around Jaehyun’s biceps. 

This bitch. Your blood starts boiling. Anger makes you see red. 

“You brought her here?” You hiss at Jaehyun who has the decency to look guilty at least. You snort. Then, your eyes find Jihoon who’s still on the ground, Jihoon who is still naked. Jihoon, who desperately needs a place to stay. 

God knows what makes you do what you do next. Desperation? Foolery? Who knows. But you move to help Jihoon up, grabbing the towel and holding it in front of his lower half. 

“Y/N,” Jaehyun starts but you interrupt him.

“I see that we both had the idea to bring our new partners, or in your case old partner, to the suite we booked together, Jae. But since I was the one who paid for it, I would kindly ask you to leave.”

New partner. Jihoon needs a few seconds before he grasps what you just said. 

“New- new what?” He mumbles, but you clear your throat to drown out his voice. Jaehyun’s face is priceless and you don’t want the bluff to be uncovered so quickly.

“That is your new boyfriend?” She asks, her brows raised. You can see that she’s checking him out - his abs, his cest, his pretty face. It makes your insides turn with hatred and disgust. 

“Got a problem, Sierra?” You reply, your jaw tense. Her eyes only briefly meet yours.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m glad to see you finally got out of that moping phase, honey. It really didn’t suit you.” 

Your grip around the towel tightens. 

Slowly, Jihoon begins to understand what is going on. Who these people are. There was supposed to be a wedding and a honeymoon, but neither of these happened. You are the bride, or well, were supposed to be the bride. And he, the man you called Jaehyun and who had caused all the color to fade from your face, surely seems to be the groom who… never got to be the groom. And judging by the way you reacted to him and her, he guesses the reason the wedding didn’t happen was… the woman you’d called Sierra. 

Blinking a few times, Jihoon realized that you were trying to convince him that he was your new boyfriend. That you had brought him here, to this hotel. It was ridiculous and straight out of a bad movie, but somehow… even if he didn’t know you, he felt like he should help you. And so, he let his arm wrap around your waist, catching you by surprise. 

“I would kindly ask you to leave us be. You have done enough.”

Your head swirled to look at the man next to you. His stern face and his wet hair. Drops of water sliding down the side of his neck. 

“How long has this been going on?” Jaehyun asks, ignoring Jihoon’s request. You turn to look at him again.

“That’s none of your business. You heard him, Jae. Leave. This isn’t your room anymore.”

Another beat of silence falls between the four of you. You try your best to ignore Sierra and cling onto Jihoon’s hand like it was the only saving grace. Perhaps that was true. Holding Jae’s gaze and trying to calm down your hurting heart, your wishes to throw something at him. 

“Fine. I heard the honeymoon suite in the Hilton is much nicer than this one, baby.”

It is then that you see it. The rings on her finger. Your stomach drops. He married her. Oh, you’re about to throw up. Jihoon seems to notice your change of emotions, quickly clearing his throat.

“Great. Have fun in Paris then.” 

He carefully takes the towel from your hand, wrapping it around him fully again. Then, he looks at you. The overwhelming urge to give you a hug is almost unbearable.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun said, “since we are both seeing other people and have moved on - we could grab dinner sometime this week. All of us.”

Jihoon sees the way your eyes shake at the suggestion. And he is just about to say no, that that’s not a good idea, when you push your shoulder back and hold your head high.

“What a lovely idea. We’d love to, isn’t that right, baby?” You interlock your fingers with Jihoon’s and he stares at you for just a second, before nodding.

“Sure,” he breathes out, looking at Jaehyun and Sierra. 

It most certainly isn’t a lovely idea, he is well aware of that. This whole thing isn’t a good idea. But here he is. Holding the hand of a woman he barely met twenty minutes ago. A woman who has seen him naked, a woman who had his half hard cock against the inside of her thigh. A woman he had been closer to than any other in the last five years. 

No, this wasn’t a good idea. This was an awful, horrible idea that could only go so, so wrong. 

[reborrowing]

skipping breakfast

if you give a mouse a cookie, he may still want to leave. (part of stranger swap, but stands on its own) contains: fear/PTSD flashback, misunderstandings, reference to past abuse

Hollow’s ears pricked at the muffled sound of a phone alarm. It was the right tone to be from this unit and loud enough that it probably was sounding from the next room over. He scowled, counting the days back in his head. He was still sure it was a Monday.

He hadn’t bothered to check for the host before setting out. In the six months since they’d moved in, they hadn’t once missed a day of work. He held his breath as the alarm looped and repeated itself in a louder cry—maybe they’d forgotten their phone? No. Another second passed, something heavy shifted in the other room, and the alarm went silent. Maybe they were sick.

Hollow decided he didn’t care. He just needed to stay out of sight, same as ever. 

There was no good way to get off this shelf in particular without roping into the open, but the display was a decent enough place to hide, however eerie it felt. The host here made and collected miniatures.

To Hollow, and any other borrowers lured in by the strange collection, it felt like an alleyway cut out of some alternate universe’s walls or maybe a series of theater stages.  The shelf was busy and strange enough that some came here even without any intention of borrowing, only to see the strange collection. The rooms were more exposed than any living space had any right to be with half the walls missing and the furniture was mostly too small to be used by an adult, but some things made more sense after seeing them as they were meant to be seen—the sheer monotony of their counters and furniture disappeared, if nothing else.

And there was plenty to take  for someone of Hollow’s mindset: piles of decorative items, wall hangings, cushions, occasional bit of dinnerware—all of it felt much nicer than the cheap plastic and cardboard pulled out of a child’s toy box. And Hollow found that the colony kids always liked the little clay foods, familiar ingredients made alien when portrayed as handheld objects. Most stuff in these shelves was pretty junk, essentially, not stuff anyone needed, but the host also kept nice fabrics and clay and other useful materials in their crafting cabinets. The apartment was a good unit to borrow from, when the host wasn’t home and thudding into the room.

Hollow ducked behind a wooden counter—one now missing a piece of its carefully arranged tea set—to get out of sight. He meant to stay there until the host settled down somewhere with something to hold their attention. He didn’t have a backup plan when they decided to pause in front of this particular display shelf.

Hollow shuddered. He hated borrowing when the host was home. He hated them, all of them. He wouldn’t have come here had he known the host was home. Had he left something out of place? Had they seen him? Had they already seen someone else borrowing from them? Did they know?

The shadow of the host’s reaching hand, even while it was still a foot away, sent him scrambling in the opposite direction, making them yelp. So she hadn’t actually noticed Hollow until he panicked. At least he could take advantage of the host’s surprise to bolt. His breath trembled in his throat. He was so intent on getting safe, he forgot where he was, just that he couldn't let her catch him because this time she’d kill him. He tore through one carefully placed scene and then another. He only stopped when he reached the end of the shelf and only to grab his line—the line that he’d left out on the other end of the shelf to allow for a quick escape. He inhaled sharply and considered the long drop in front of him. 

“Whoa, no, don’t—”

Hollow jumped.

The laminate floor was far enough to hurt, he knew, but he had plenty of practice being hurt. As long as he landed right, he ought to be able to roll under that chair before she could step on him at least. It would take the kid a few seconds to get her hands down to the floor and hopefully he’d be able to get some more distance between him and her before–

A mattress of flesh interrupted his fall. He stared up in horror at a stranger’s face and shook under the memory of a much angrier human’s glare. He couldn’t bring himself to move, even as he was probed by a thumb half as tall as he was. The meaty digit lingered on his right side and massaged the point where his arm ended and his prosthetic began. Hollow flinched in slow motion.

“Oh,” the host breathed with a convincingly sympathetic tone. “You’ve really been through it huh?”

With a shaky hand Hollow reached for the sewing pin on his back and wished he had worn his uglier prosthetic. It was awful and clunky, and not particularly helpful on a normal borrowing run, but he bet that pen knife sticking out of it would have been enough to make a human flinch. As soon as Hollow aimed his pin down at the palm that held him, another pair of fingers came out of nowhere to easily pull it away.

“Okay, no, no, please don’t make me drop you, okay? I’m really sorry if I’m scaring you, I’m trying to help,” the host said.

They gave him a pitying smile and Hollow scowled, looking away his tongue before the shadows could twist back into that girl and beat him. Each time Hollow tried moving towards the edge of the palm, the host tilted their hand or brought up their fingers to block him. After several attempts, he shuddered as one of the fingers landed against his chest and sat back down in the middle of the open palm. 

“I don’t want you to fall, little guy. Why don’t we go sit down at the counter? I was about to make breakfast,” the host said. The wall of their belly jerked with a brief laugh. “Well, I was going to see how that polish dried, but I’ll deal with that later. You steady?”

Hollow buried his head in his knees and tried unsuccessfully to pretend he was somewhere else. His stomach dropped as the hand swayed then bucked as his clawed toes reflexively clung to the moving floor.

The host exhaled sharply and cupped their hand to better secure him. Hollow shivered, his fur standing all on end as the flesh closed in around him, and braced to be crushed. The movement slowed and Hollow peeked out to watch the host grab one of the chairs from another display. One of his toys. Hollow was just another thing to be played with. 

“I’m Jude, by the way, he/him,” the host said.

There was a pause.

“You don’t talk much, huh? Can you at least understand me?”

Hollow nodded, still glaring down towards the floor. He wasn’t even sure if he could speak at the moment and he didn’t want to try. Borrowers didn’t speak to humans, as a rule, even when they did get caught. He’d done it when he thought he had had no choice and it hadn’t made things any easier.

“That’s good, I guess, so you at least know I’m friendly.” 

Hollow believed no such thing.

Jude stepped away from their miniature displays—away from the critical gear Hollow had left behind—and crossed the apartment to the kitchen. Hollow watched Jude’s feet shuffle across the carpet with a seething envy. It was such a quick trip this way, straight across the open room in just a few easy strides. Sometimes, he wished he had followed his mother to an outdoors life where he wouldn’t have to spend so much time in human spaces where he found himself comparing their lives to his own.

“Alright, I’ll set you down here, if that’s okay?”

Hollow would be okay being set down anywhere, even onto a heated burner, if it meant a chance to get away from the host’s sweaty fingers. But with nothing to say and the human staring down at him expectantly, he exhaled shakily and nodded.

The host’s fingers shifted beneath him and he slowly slid onto the blessedly solid countertop. He spun back around and craned his neck to watch the looming host. He didn’t want to look at Jude, didn’t like the overwhelming reminder of their difference in scale, but preferred it to facing his back to the giant.

“You’re still shaking. You really are afraid of me, huh? I'm sorry,” Jude said. “Here, why don’t you sit down?”

Hollow tensed as the host’s second hand stretched towards him. For a moment it was the girl’s hand again and a memory of pain flashed down his spine. His half-tail twitched and tucked against his leg as he backed away. Jude set the toy chair down beside him and withdrew. He stared suspiciously at the human’s toy couch. The back looked stiff and uncomfortable but otherwise sturdy.

“Yeah, there you go. Take a minute to breathe, it’s okay, no judgment,” Jude said.

He did as he was told but as soon as Jude’s back was turned, Hollow started looking for his escape route. There was a familiar outlet nearby, one that Hollow and every other working borrower in the colony used to get into this unit. He couldn’t be seen going out that way, not if anyone wanted to use it again. And it would be a shame to lose access to this apartment, this was such a good one to borrow from. He needed to get to the floor where he could escape unseen. The drop to the floor still didn’t scare him; a borrower could fall a long ways without getting hurt, but so long as Jude was watching, Hollow was stuck. He wouldn’t do anything that risked bringing that fucking hand back towards him.

The way Jude moved the world within the kitchen made Hollow too aware of how small he really was. The plastic vat of flour, the tower of baking powder, the door to the nigh-impenetrable refrigerator…in Hollow’s world, these things were all well-secured vaults that had to be broken into. It took time and a solid plan to retrieve the contents. Jude did so instantaneously, talking the whole time, and in nearly unthinkable quantities.

No matter how many times he had been here, this was not Hollow’s world.

He sat quietly on the toy couch until the quiet got too loud and the host turned to look at him. He realized suddenly that the host had stopped talking and that the words had probably been for him and he really should have made an effort to listen. He could feel the expectation that Hollow should do something in those big eyes and he tensed, waiting for the girl to lunge forward to hurt him, or maybe this time she’d hurt…

Hollow grit his teeth. He was alone. With Jude. Who was, so. far, significantly less hostile than the girl or any other human he’d encountered. He could try to get along until he could get away. Maybe some of them were capable of mercy, or at least some patience.

He doubted it.

- Jude was already awake and out of bed by the time he registered that he had the day off and he’d just forgotten to turn off his stupid alarm. He looked back at the blankets but knew the chances of him falling back to sleep now were slim to none. He may as well take advantage of a few extra morning hours on his extra day, not that he had any plans. It was just nice to not have to rush out and deal with a parade of impatient strangers.

He stretched lazily and made his way to the front room. Sun filtered through the curtain and caught a cloud of dust particles dancing in the light. If Jude were a slightly more meticulous person he might spend the day tidying his place but already his thoughts had started to wander to what he might be able to craft or at least get started on before the day’s end. He’d finished his last project the previous night so could work on just about anything without stressing over anything in-progress.

At least, he hoped he had finished the project. He could check on it now that it had had time to dry. The pieces would be done one way or the other, but there was a decent chance he’d ruined them instead of finished them by using some questionable varnish. It was all he had had on hand and at 3am with nothing open but Amazon it had seemed like a good idea to risk it instead of waiting.

A shadow on the shelf shifted when he went to check and Jude screamed, embarrassed as soon as the sound left his mouth. Then came the second wave of embarrassment at being so self-consciousness when nothing was here to watch him but a few sculpted figures and their shadows.

His eyes caught back up with the movement and he realized that it hadn’t been a trick of the light. It’s just a figurine falling over, he thought at first, then, oh no, mouse? as it scrambled across the shelf. Jude shook his head as his mind caught up with his eyes. It was a tiny person, slightly larger than any of Jude’s figurines, and they were very much alive. He wasn’t alone at all and for a moment he was dumbstruck.

He’d always wanted fairies to be real. It was why he had started making miniatures and dollhouse furniture way back when he was a little girl and had persisted into his adulthood. And now, here one was, apparently enticed by Jude’s own handiwork. He had to bite back giddy laughter, lest his little guest think he was being laughed at. The poor thing looked nervous enough as it was.

Terrified even, he realized as he leaned forward for a closer look. But not scared enough to try to jump from up there, right?

Right???

Wrong.

Jude was too slow to stop him, but thankfully quick enough to catch him. He gasped as he landed in his hand. Jude didn’t know why he would expect otherwise, but the intruder was so light—about as substantial as the mouse he’d first been mistaken for. Jude pulled his hand in close to better keep steady as he looked. him over.

He wasn’t quite a fairy, at least not how most people would think of them. His guest had no wings or glitter and was far too grim to be made of light or children’s laughter. He didn’t seem bloodthirsty enough to be the other type of fairy either. He was …just a little guy, and not a very lucky one by the looks of him. He was dressed in rags and missing his arm and most of an ear. His tail looked like the end was scarred and withered; Jude suspected he’d lost the rest of that too.

The little guy’s eyes watered like he was about to cry and Jude did his best to soothe his fears. God, he was a pretty thing. Jude had spent a lot of time admiring the details of miniature things, but the little intruder was unbelievably exquisite: a masterpiece that only nature could craft. Jude was flattered that the little guy would be interested in his clumsy work at all.

He was determined to give the little guy a proper thanks before parting ways. Maybe if it went well enough, it would convince him to stay for awhile. Maybe even stick around as friends? Jude could hope. In any case, he thought pancakes and a comfortable seat would be a good start.

He did his best to move slowly and carefully as he prepped the kitchen, making sure to give the little guy as much space as he could. He wished he knew what to say to help the poor thing understand he wasn’t in any danger here. Everything Jude did only made him tremble more. Maybe just sitting there with a little cap full of cool water for a few minutes would let his panic wind down.

But as he mixed the batter Jude started to worry it wasn’t or that he was failing as a host in some other way. Had he missed some nicety the little guy expected or broken some unknown rule? No touching, maybe, but he’d already put him down. Were pancakes a bad choice? He’d given Jude a quick glance at his teeth and they had looked pretty sharp, maybe Jude’s vegan pantry was no more appealing to the little guy than the sculpted fruits on the shelf.

“You can eat this, right? Or maybe I shouldn’t assume? I could do something else or even run to the store if there’s not anything in my kitchen that looks like a proper meal to you? Is there something else you’d normally eat?”

Jude looked over to his guest for an answer and got only a slight shudder and a blank stare. A second passed and it was like the little guy saw a ghost. He paled and shrank back into the couch, mouthing something beyond Jude’s perception. It was all Jude could do not to reach out to try and physically reassure him—something that could only make things worse at this point.

“That’s, aw, you’re just too quiet, huh? Um, maybe just nod or shake your head? Do you eat pancakes? Or want to, at least?”

The little guy took a breath of relief and nodded hastily, shoulders easing back down when Jude smiled at him.

Jude turned his attention back to his cooking, neatly pouring out the batter. His heart skipped with delight as he doled out a few bite-sized drops for his guest. Pancakes made it easy to offer up a miniature serving alongside his own breakfast and the stack looked perfectly adorable on the coin-sized plate he’d pulled off of his display. Evidently the meal looked good to the the little guy as well, as he was willing to lean forward to grab it off of Jude’s finger. He snatched it away with his one hand, letting the tiny fork slip down onto the countertop, and flinched back into the couch.

“Can you…should I grab you a table as well? I wasn’t thinking about how you’d hold it” Jude said.

He shook his head without looking up. Jude watched with eager eyes as the little guy shifted slightly in his seat and the clasp at the end of his prosthetic opened then pinched closed, catching the edge of his plate to keep it steady in his lap and freeing up his hand.

“That’s so cool, did you make that yourself?”

The little guy glanced at his prosthetic and, if only for a brief second, a proud smile flickered across his face. Then he nodded and hid the expression by stuffing half a pancake into his mouth.

“I’ve got syrup, you don’t have to eat that plain, if you don’t want,” Jude offered.

His guest watched him suspiciously but his eyes widened and he nodded when he recognized the bottle of syrup that Jude retrieved. He poured a bit into the lid—he’d just have to clean it up later—and slid it across the counter to his wary guest, who eagerly sopped up as much as he could from the cap once he was sure he had his space back. And when he ran out of pancake, he scooped out an extra helping with his bare hand. Sweet tooth, Jude thought affectionately as he sat down with a plate of his own.

“You’ve been coming here for awhile, right? I’ve noticed stuff going missing since I moved in,” Jude said.

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. The little guy froze, letting the rest of the syrup drop into his lap, and his eyes once more danced around in a search for an escape. Jude raised his hands in a show of innocence.

“No, no, it’s okay! I just—you don’t have to sneak around. I’m glad someone likes my stuff, and you’re getting more use out of it than anyone on etsy would, you know?” Jude said. “I was gonna say you’re welcome to come back again for more. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”

The little guy’s posture truly relaxed for the first time that morning and Jude wondered what it was that was so reassuring—that he was welcome to keep taking props, maybe? Jude hoped he wouldn’t regret that in the coming weeks. Some of it would hurt to lose.

“It’s a shame you can’t talk. I’ve never seen anyone like you before, you know? I don’t even know what to call you,” Jude said.

The little guy chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second before pointing at the small pile of mail sitting on the edge of the counter. With a little more prompting, Jude picked out a seasonal bit of junk mail advertising local fall deals.

“The flyer? No, the pumpkin? Uh, jack-0-lantern? Jack? Your name is Jack?”

The little guy’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. He pointed at the clip-art again, this time holding up two fingers. Two words? Two syllables? Two…something.

“Jack-o? Jackie?”

A scowl.

“Um…Pumpkin?”

Little guy rolled his eyes.

“Not pumpkin, then? That would be cute though, a little Pumpkin,” Jude said.

Probably-Not-Pumpkin huffed impatiently and mimed writing something. Jude felt his ears tinge red. He should have thought of that.

“Duh. Okay, yeah, yeah, I’ll grab you a pencil lead or I think I have…I’ll find something you could use to write, gimme a sec,” Jude said.

He hopped up to grab something from his desk. He had some tiny colored pencils he’d picked up on a whim once, but they’d probably be too large. It might force the guy write large enough that Jude could actually read his handwriting though—was that selfish? After a minute or so of back and forth with himself, he snapped a bit of lead from a mechanical pencil and turned back to the kitchen. That minute was all that Not-Pumpkin needed to disappear.

Jude searched carefully around the kitchen floor, but found no sign of where he’d gone. He sighed. He really thought they’d been getting along. He just had to hope the promise of sweets and props would be enough to bring the little guy back.

-

In the wallways, Hollow hesitated to mark the unit as unsafe. He knew Jude wouldn’t forget about this visit, wouldn’t forget that borrowers were real, but if he’d already known…there was no reason to get himself in trouble with the council if the host wasn’t going to try and trap any intruders. Jude hadn’t meant to keep him there, it seemed, though Hollow didn’t understand exactly why. He was just grateful that he'd been willing to believe that Hollow would write to him.

He made hesitant scratches in the wood to warn his fellow borrowers that the host inside had seen something. It was a simple glyph, vague, and hopefully enough to make the next person to pass through extra careful. He didn’t take the time to mark the other escapes. He was tired. His panic was subsiding, leaving him frustrated and exhausted.

His bag had been left behind, along with the best of his gear and all his loot. But as he trekked back through the darkness, he let relief win over the frustration. He had plenty of time to rebuild his kit. He wasn’t in a cage. He’d gotten away. He’d even had a good, rich meal and stuffed away enough leftovers to give his daughter.

He was home. They were safe.

--

taglist: @da3dm @whumpsday @gt-daboss @whumpinthepot (To be added/removed from the taglist please comment, ask, or message, I’ll forget if it’s just in the tags of a reblog!)

[poetrysmackdown]

some informal thoughts

hello! hope the holiday season has been kind to all of you. and i hope all my jewish followers had a lovely hanukkah! anyways, since i said a few months ago that i’d pick poetry smackdown back up sometime around this time of year, i thought i should make a post. the gist of it is that i’m still quite busy, i have a break that’s about three weeks shorter than I was planning on, and i don’t currently have the mental bandwidth required to read, contemplate, and sort through poem submissions in a way that does justice to them, even if i were to recruit some friends to help out. since running a tournament format requires at least five weeks of continued engagement once it’s underway, and since i’m not at capacity to offer that right now due to the change in my schedule, i’m gonna have to bow out for now. sad bc i was looking forward to it!

my hope is that i’ll have some more time over the summer to hunker down with it, in which case you’ll be hearing from me. it’ll frankly depend on the kind of job i land in for the summer, but i find that my unemployed spirit can typically keep me doing stupid shit regardless of workload...to a point. i don’t want to make any promises because i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just to let them down again LOL. i do admit the amount of exposure the first tournament got has made me feel like more of a perfectionist this time around, doubly because i don’t feel that i’m very suited to being a public online presence (even a relatively quite small one)—i’m bad enough at responding to emails for my own real life responsibilities, let alone tumblr asks for the silly responsibilities i invent for myself lol. that’s not to say i no longer want to do it, or i don’t enjoy it, or even that i don’t feel capable of making a really interesting bracket—just that if i am working to put something new together, and if people are taking the time to submit poems they care about, then i don’t want to half-ass it.

my second admission is something like this. I made the original bracket as a celebration of poetry and our relationships to it. yes it was silly and competitive, and the poems were very tumblr, but still, celebration was the intention—I wanted to have conversations about poetry. I stand by the bracket format as a fun and valuable way to foster conversations about poetry, but truthfully, the poems i’m wanting to have conversations about right now—the poems that we should be talking about right now—are ones that i'm not comfortable putting in a bracket. I reblogged The Baffler’s Poems from Palestine collection on here earlier, and Najwan Darwish’s “Who Remembers The Armenians?”, which I still often find repeating through my head when I'm traveling from one place to another, walking home or riding the bus. I came across this beautiful thread recently where people have been translating Dr. Refaat Alareer’s “If I Must Die” into their own languages (this just makes my translator's heart sing!!!!!!). @havingapoemwithyou has been posting some great poems from and for Palestine as well—check out their tag here.

There's always more to add, and I'll be posting more on here as I come across it, but that's what I feel anyone should be focusing on right now when it comes to poetry. i think poetry can be an escape but it should never be a distraction. does that make sense? i wouldn't be against doing a one-off poll here or there, but it feels weird to be making a tournament for poetry right now, or anytime soon. i feel like what free time i have right now is still best utilized helping my friends with organizing in the real world. and god, a bit off-topic but while I'm talking, fuck poetry foundation—I have so much respect for all the poets keeping up the boycott, because while i think it's a simple decision, it's not always an easy one (Aurielle Lucier discussed that here).

anyways, if you read all of this, thank you for your time!! I could go on and on, but really this was just meant to be a message telling y'all that there won't be another tournament for a while lol. even so i'll be trying to use this small silly platform as best i can until palestine is free because that's the absolute least i can do.

[charlie-lec-stories]

Natural // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Summary: Charles finds himself becoming an incredibly committed babysitter, or is it more a parental instinct?

Warnings: Ovaries and hearts may explode for all of the Dad!Charles and Family!Paddock content. Faint descriptions of a toddler visiting the hospital over a fever but it's just the flu actually.

Author’s Note: It's a really cute story about friendship, love and family. Just really cute. Rate: PG.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"No, no, no, no". Y/N repeated while she looked at the white plastic stick with two clear red lines. "Not now".

She fought with teeth and claws to progress as much as she did in the motorsport world, and once she thought things were finally working out, she got pregnant. There were a lot of things that made her life from there on pretty difficult: the father wanted out, her family was far away and her career as a racer was dangerously close to an end. She was lucky enough that her best friend, Pierre, was more than happy to be an uncle. Pierre was just a year older than her and they have know each other for ten years, since their Red Bull training years. Two of those years, they dated, but after some time they understood that they were better off as friends. As friends, they became even closer, sharing their passion for racing and partying. When the test turned out positive, Pierre was the first person she called. If her best friend was to be described with one word, she would choose: determination. The second the information hit his brain, Pierre was already making contingency plans and looking for ways to help her out.

"We'll figure it out, Fleur, I'm with you, always". He quickly assured her. She relaxed when she saw him smile at her on her phone. She felt less alone.

They were close to summer break and she had been out of the grid for six months, closing up on the ninth month of pregnancy. For her Red Bull Racing Formula 2 team was another driver racing in her place and, lucky her, he wasn't doing that great. The team principal was still close to her, calling her every week to see how she was doing and to check if she still wanted her seat for next year. The truth was, she wanted that seat the moment she was given the okay to drive again. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy, but she lost just one race last year, she could pull off a second place or even the championship with just half of the races of the season.

When the summer break started, Pierre went back to Monaco and straight to her place. He told her he wasn't leaving her alone and he was going to keep his word. Pierre was highly mission orientated, he was going to be the best uncle a kid could dream of and that meant keeping a close eye on his best friend to make sure she was alright. But things never go as planned and what was supposed to be a quick flight to Alpine HQ for one single day ended up in a week-long delay because of a missing document. In the mean time, her and Pierre's friend, Charles, visited her daily to help her in any way he could until Pierre could be back. She had a great relationship with Charles, they weren't best friends, but they were good friends. He was funny and warm, with a similar music taste than hers and a big heart. It was nice to have Charles around and he was always eager to help.

A day before Pierre could travel back to Monaco, she felt a sharp pain on her lower belly. She gripped the table next to her, the glass of water she had on her hand smashing against the floor. Charles ran out of the kitchen and towards her. Pierre had promised her to be by her side when the moment came, he assisted to the birthing classes with her for the few days he was with her and suddenly, she had to go through it all alone. She was scared, she wasn't supposed to go into labor for another week. The pain subsided and Charles put his arm around her to help her steady her feet. He whispered some supportive words in her hair, helping her calm down. He took her to the couch and they both breathed together. He didn't go to birthing classes, but he knew enough about pregnancies to know that a steady and calm breathing was key. She felt wet between her legs and another sharp wave of pain practically cut her in half. Charles noticed the wet spot on the couch and understood that it was time. When she stopped grabbing her belly, he quickly but gently, pulled her up from the couch and helped her walk towards the door. Next to it was the hospital bag that Pierre had prepared before going to England and he picked it up on their way to his car.

"It's okay, Fleur, you'll be fine". He said doing his best not to show how scared he actually was. This was definitely not what he expected his summer break to be like, but he was glad that he could help. He used the nickname that he heard Pierre call her all the time just to make her feel better and for the look on her face, it worked. Charles made it to the hospital faster than Max Verstappen ever made a lap and he internally smacked himself for not being that quick when he was racing. He was a lot more motivated to be quick this time though, it came naturally to him. Parking messily at the front of the hospital, he practically jumped out of the car and ran to her side to help her out. He almost carried her inside, going as fast as he could before another contraction hit her. A nurse sat her in a wheelchair and took her to a box behind a curtain. While he waited outside, he called Pierre to let him know what was happening. Pierre was furious that he was still stuck at England and Charles promised him that he would keep him updated. Twenty minutes later, the nurse walked up to him and informed the situation: she was giving birth in probably thirty minutes. He quickly texted Pierre and went into the box with Y/N. She looked tired and in pain, so he grabbed her hand and caressed the back of it, doing his best to help her relax. It worked. With time, the contractions started to grow in length and got closer together, signaling that she was ready to deliver.

"Please, don't leave me". She said gripping tightly at his hand. Charles saw how scared she was and he squeezed her hand back without doubt.

"I'm not leaving you side".

That was Charles' most magical experience of his life. When she was almost breaking his hand, all he could think about was the baby. He kept telling her how good she was doing, how great she was, encouraging her to keep pushing. He wiped her forehead that was covered with sweat and kissed her temple at some point, like it was the most natural instinct. He just wanted her to feel better, to feel cared for at such crucial time in her life. Then, he heard it, the cry cutting through the air. His head snapped towards the sound and his heart skipped a beat at the relief of hearing the proof of life. But with the crying, another part of him just wanted to hug the baby tight, engulf him in his arm like a protective shield, keeping him safe from the pain of the world. The little bundle was wrapped in a blanket and given to his mother, who took him happily. Charles watched the baby's face, the soft wrinkles at the edge of the eyes, the pointed nose, the long lashes. He was looking at the perfect baby and the tear that ran down his face was just unstoppable. He felt so happy even though it wasn't his baby. Lost in the moment, he was brought back by the feeling of a hand wrapping around his arm. He looked down and placed his own on top of hers. She didn't have to say it, he knew just how grateful she was for him being there.

A few hours later, the baby and the mother were already in a room, Charles sitting in a chair next to the sleeping new mom. He couldn't stop looking at Raphaël, as his mother named him, and thinking how perfect he was. It was probably the fact that he was there when Raphaël was born or maybe because he helped Y/N sometimes through the pregnancy and specially that last week, but he felt this attachment to the baby. He was asked if he wanted to hold the baby and, after the mom gave him permission, he said yes. Bringing Raphaël to his chest, he felt the fuzzy feeling inside it, bubbling like crazy. Not long before she fell asleep, she told him that he could pick up Raphaël whenever he wanted. Now, the baby was again in his arms, fondly asleep, and he felt complete. He sent Pierre a selfie and the other replied immediately, expressing how much he wanted to pick up his nephew.

Three days later, Pierre and Charles helped Y/N and Raphaël out of the hospital and back home. Both of them offered to stay until her parents arrived, so she wouldn't be alone. Pierre slept on the couch and Charles on the rocking chair next to the crib. Y/N was still a little weak and Charles suggested to be the one getting up in the middle of the night if needed, that way she could get a better sleep. The thing was, Charles wanted to do it, he wanted to pick Raphaël up and keep him in his arms for a while. When her parents finally got there, Pierre and Charles had to leave to make room for them. The monegasque found himself missing the new mom and the baby. He visited everyday until summer break was over. He knew that him and Y/N were just friends, but he used to have a crush on her when they were younger. He remembered how jealous he was that she was dating Pierre, and when the two broke up, she stated that she was never dating a friend again. Naturally, Charles backed up and for years he was able to ignore his crush. But now, with everything that happened, he could feel those feelings coming back stronger than ever.

Charles and Pierre were back at the paddock, fulfilling their duties as drivers, but the baby pictures were pretty distracting for Charles. Y/N was constantly sending them to the group chat she had with Max, Pierre, Lando and Charles, called "The fastest babysitters". He would watch the videos and pictures multiple times through the day, and she privately sent him some more with the clothes and toys he had gifted them. Most of the paddock sent gifts, she was deeply loved at all levels of racing and teams, but Charles' were the cutes and Raphaël seemed to like them more. The group chat was very active, with the four F1 racers asking the mom how she was doing all the time. They asked about the food, if she was drinking enough water, if she was sleeping, how the dippers looked like - Max's sister had kids so he knew that that was something to keep an eye on - Lando asked about the weather insisting on keeping little Raphaël well covered and Pierre was already insisting on the baby learning his name, even though he was just a month old. Charles was the worst though, he would call at least twice a day, asking if she needed anything. Once, she casually told him that she had ran out of baby powder, twenty minutes later there was a delivery kid from a near pharmacy at her door, giving her a bag with baby powder and two packs of dippers.

"You don't need to send anything". She told him when she called him to say thanks. She couldn't see him but she knew that he was probably shrugging his shoulders.

"I just want to make myself useful and help you out a bit". She laughed softly and his heart skipped a beat.

"You're the best, Charles".

Three months after Y/N had Raphaël, she was allowed to drive again. She had been practicing at the simulator since the second week after giving birth. She wanted back badly and she was pushing herself out of her comfort zone to archive that. She went to the paddock with her little baby wrapped in a Red Bull blanket, sent by Christian Horner, the team's F1 principal. Charles felt like his soul was back into his body, as if some part of him had been missing while he was apart from them. When he finally got Raphaël in his arms his smile grew even bigger, his whole body warm with happiness. She asked if they could watch the baby while she raced and they gladly accepted. The four stayed at the Red Bull facility watching the F2 race from there, cheering excitedly when Y/N won. That scene repeated it self for the last four remaining races of the season, where she won, with a gap of almost fifteen seconds, each single race. It should have been her second season in F2 and she thought that her chances of getting into F1 were over when she got pregnant. It was a great surprise when Christian called her to let her know that he wanted her on Red Bull's F1 line-up along side Max for the next season. Everyone was impressed by her excellent performance, after a pregnancy and almost a year without racing.

"It's nice to finally make it into F1". She said in a press conference. "Even though now I have to race my babysitters. Who's gonna watch Raphy now?". She added, making everyone laugh.

"I'm sure Fernando would love to watch Raphaël while we race now that he retired for real". Christian cracked loudly at Max's comment. Fernando was head over heels for the baby, clamming to be "Raphaël's official F1 granddad", a title that was being strongly fought against Lewis Hamilton.

Still, it didn't matter how much the grid fought about being Raphaël's favourite, they all knew they were fighting for second place. Charles was, by far, the baby's favourite. His smile, his laughter, the light in his eyes, everything seemed to glow brighter whenever he was with Charles. Raphaël could feel how much Charles loved him, and, naturally, he loved Charles just as much. The baby was always touching his face, smiling at the sound of his voice. Charles sang to him, danced with him, played and fed him, and even changed the dippers. The fans were crazy about it, breaking the internet every time a video of Charles and Raphaël was shared. Their pictures together went viral within seconds and the comment sections exploded with praises and exclamations of love. Charles and Y/N started talking even more, calling each other multiple times a day while they were on holidays break and until the start of the season. She was relaying on him a lot since Charles was the one that usually offered to step up the fastest when she needed help. She offered him to be the godfather, but Charles insisted on Pierre being it instead. He knew just how much Pierre wanted it and even though he wanted it too, Pierre was Y/N best friend and Charles opted to respect that.

Things worked out well for a while. Raphaël was the paddock favourite member and he barely got to touch the floor, much to his mother's complains. The baby traveled from arm to arm, from team to team, collecting gifts and praises. He was closing up to his eleventh month on Earth when he took his first steps. His mother sat him on the floor, over his blanket, encouraging him to get up on his own. He did, and wiggled a little with excitement. Max and Lando pulled out their phones to record him, Pierre grabbed a toy to motivate him to walk. Raphaël gripped his mother's shirt tightly, unsure if he should let go. She told him to, and with his mom's approval, he stepped away from her. It looked like he was going to walk towards Pierre and the toy, but he turned around, looking for the other person in the world, aside from his mother, that made him feel safe. He looked for Charles. He found him at the other side of the blanket, smiling at him. Once he noticed that Charles was there, he launched himself towards the Ferrari driver, who caught him securely in his arms. From that day on, Raphaël just kept walking faster and faster, knowing that Charles would always catch him.

For Raphaël's first birthday, his biological father tried to get back into picture. Y/N was more stressed than ever, he threatened to fight her for custody. She knew that he wasn't going to win full custody, still, she was scared that he could win just enough for Raphaël not to be able to keep coming to the races with her. Charles stayed endless nights awake with her, hugging her and telling her that everything would be alright. Max and Pierre were extremely pissed, they felt like it was outrageous that he wanted to take the kid when he disappeared from his life through the whole pregnancy and the first year. Lando pointed out that the guy wanted money now that Y/N was in F1 and made a name for herself in the media, and the other three agreed with him. The man didn't care about Raphaël and that made Charles furious. The media covered the never ending fights between the parents, gossiping about the subject and adding some more pressure to the single mother. Charles contacted the best lawyer he could find and Y/N won the custody battle, the father of her child declining his parental rights at the end of the process. Raphaël was already over one and a half and his mother the third in the driver's championship when the legal feud was over.

One night, Raphaël got a fever and it wasn't coming down. He was a pretty healthy boy, so it was uncommon for him to get sick. His mother took him to the hospital in Montreal once she noticed the fever persisted. She texted the group chat, letting the other four drivers know what was going on. Ten minutes later, they were by her side at the hospital. She was told that Raphaël had to spend the night to make sure that the medication they gave him was working. The hospital allowed just two people to stay at night so, naturally, Charles stayed. The other three went back to their hotel and slept with one eye open, waiting for updates. At the room, Charles sat next to Y/N and they both watched the little boy sleep. Quiet tears ran down her cheeks, scared for her son's wellbeing. Charles took her hand and caressed the back of it, like he did when she was in labor. It relaxed her because, no matter what, Charles was always there.

"Thank you for always being here for us". She said looking at him in the dim light of the room. He squeezed her hand without any doubt.

"I'm not leaving you side". She felt that déjà vu feeling. It was natural for them at this point, to have Charles' constant presence on their lives.

Raphaël was discharged from the hospital the next morning and Charles and Y/N took him back to the hotel. It was just the flu and everyone in the paddock left out the breath that they all had been holding through the night. The day went by pretty good, Raphaël was a little down, but his fever was under control. Y/N did her practice of the day and went straight back to the hotel, where Fernando was watching over her son. The older man left her dinner on the nightstand and she proceeded to put on some Disney movies for Raphaël to watch. Around 8 pm, Charles went by to check on them. The kid was already asleep and his mother was going through an insomniac episode due to a mix between anxiety and stress. She was still worried and she couldn't fall asleep, refusing to let her baby out of her sight. Charles offered to stay up with her. If she wasn't getting any sleep, then he wasn't either. They spent the night talking about everything and nothing, sitting next to each other on the bed, watching at Raphaël breathe as he slept.

"He looks so peaceful". She whispered. "And here we are, worrying". The sigh she left out was longer than she expected. "You shouldn't be here worrying, Charles, you should be sleeping".

"It's okay. I just want to make sure that you both are okay". He admitted, tiredly. "I'll sleep better once I make sure of that". He looked at her, noticing for the first time just how close their faces were.

"You don't have to worry about us". She looked at his eyes, but they were already looking at her lips.

"I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life worrying about you two". It took her a second to close the gap between them, Charles kissing back instantly. It felt natural, their mouths moving in sync as if they had been kissing like that their whole lives. His hand went to cup her cheek, bringing her even closer. Her lips were as soft as he imagined them, all those years wondering what it'd be like to kiss her, daydreaming about pressing his lips against hers. The tight sensation inside his chest had finally loosened, this weight that made it hard to breath whenever he was close to her, that feeling of dread dying and getting replaced by pure and unmatched love. He felt like he was where he was supposed to be, he felt at home.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! I won! Did you see it? I won!". Raphaël yelled at Charles while running towards him. The four year old was proudly raising his trophy in the air, his little race suit still a bit too big around his frame.

"Yes! Yes! You did it, ma puce!". Charles picked him up excitedly. "You are the fastest to ever race!". Raphaël giggled.

"You and Mommy are the fastest, Papa". The kid said as if that was kind of obvious. "You're a world champions!". Charles felt the looks of the other parents who started to recognize who he was under his cap and glasses.

"You'll be even faster". Charles put him down and grabbed his hand, then they started to make their way towards the car.

"Faster than you and Mommy?". Charles nodded. "Faster than Pops Lewis and Abuelo Fer?". The monegasque chuckled. He opened the car door for the toddler to get in.

"Faster than them. Faster than Oom Max, Uncle Lando and Parrain Pierre, too". Raphaël smiled wide. Charles buckled his seatbelt and then got into the car. The whole way back home, Raphaël told Charles about how good he felt through the karting race. Charles smiled proudly while listening to him talk.

"Look at that trophy!". Max said when they got back home, where Y/N was sitting in the living room with the other three honorable members of the "The fastest babysitters" group chat. Raphaël ran to his "Oom Max" to show him the product of his endless questions and constant nagging in the paddock for the last couple of years. Lando and Pierre took an unbelievable amount of pictures.

"Next time I'll convince him to let you all go too". Charles told his wife after pecking her lips. "He did so good, it's a shame none of you got to see that".

"Well, you know how he is. He's always been a little shy. Sometimes it's hard for him to let people in, we should let him take his time". She said, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched Raphaël tell the three drivers about his race.

"I'm his favourite babysitter, that's why he trusts me this much". Charles said in a cocky tone. She chuckled.

"You're not his sitter anymore, Charles". As natural as it has always felt, the warm feeling in his chest was back.

"You're right, mon amour". He kissed the top of her head and looked at Raphaël. "I'm his Papa".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Translations: "ma puce" = "my flea"; "Oom Max" = "Uncle Max"; "Parrain Pierre" = "Godfather Pierre"; "Abuelo Fer" = "Grandpa Fer"; "mon amour" = "my love".

I hope you guys liked this one.

[daceydeath]

Skz as the father when you go into labor

Pairing: OT8 x reader Word Count: 2.2k Genre: Fluff, Comedy. Warnings: Swearing, fainting, Stray Kids chaos (is that a warning though?)

A/N: This is just for fun, it was something that I thought up after telling a friend what I went through when I had my kid so please don't take it too seriously.

How Stray Kids would react as your partner when you go into labor with their child.

Chan:

When you and Chan got together, he had been very honest that he did want to be a father someday and you were grateful for that since it meant you weren't going to be wasting your time if this was where the relationship ended up.

After a year he proposed and told you he was ready to settle down now with you so you stopped taking your birth control and decided to see what happened.

It took 6 months for you to fall pregnant and when you found out he actually cried. So excited for the future of his little family.

Your waters broke just after you ate dinner and while Chan was on his way home rather than causing him any panic you simply sat on a towel and waited for him to come home

When he walks in drops his stuff and comes into the lounge he sees you scrolling your phone on a plastic chair.

"What's going on baby? Why aren't you relaxing on the couch?"

"My waters broke" you smile looking both scared and excited.

"Show time then" He grinned looking so excited he might burst.

He leaves you sitting there while he gets your hospital bag, the baby bag, his bag, your birth plan and your medical records before helping you to stand.

"I will need the towel too my love, otherwise I am going to destroy the car seat" you laugh when he pulls a face. "We are not even at the gross bit yet".

"I know and it's fine I'm ready for anything and so are you baby".

Lee Know:

You had met after bumping into each other, quite literally, at a JYP event, where you were working as a waitress. He had apologized profusely for causing the accident, that was not entirely his fault.

After the event was winding down he had asked a co-worker of yours if you were still there so he could check on you one last time before he left. The conversation went well and you ended up with his number and a date and time for your first date with him.

You were both totally happy with just having your cat children until you went to the doctors after feeling off and found out you were actually pregnant. He took it really well getting excited that he would be a father and that his child would have you as it's mother.

Your waters broke while he was filming a few hours out of Seoul so you had called his parents to take you to the hospital. You had phoned him after you had spoken to them and he instantly was yelling to Chan that it was happening and he needed to go right now.

You could hear the cheers from the others as he collected his stuff and you could also hear Chan telling him to breathe and think so he didn't have an accident.

By the time he got to you he was almost back to his normal self the only give away to you that he was at all nervous was the occasional fidgeting.

"Everything will be fine kitten this hospital has the best doctors".

Changbin:

You had met after being set up by some mutual friends who thought you would suit each other, and they had been right, Changbin was everything you had wanted in a boyfriend and eventually a husband.

He had proposed to you at Christmas and you had begun planning your wedding when the slight spanner of a world tour came about, putting your nuptials on the back burner for the time being.

In a break in the tour they all came home for a few weeks and by the time he got back the the US to continue the tour you had discovered you were pregnant.

You told him over face time which turned into him yelling so much his members all broke into his room piled in to see what had happened only for you to repeat the news and start him up again.

He insisted that you let him call his parents and arrange with them for you to either stay with them or have his mum stay with you to take care of him while he was away. He also made sure Chan could make sure that your due dates wouldn't clash with any other schedules.

When you finally went into labor he had moved your mum and sister in with you both so that you would never be alone in case something happened. So when your waters finally broke all four of you were there which was a blessing you had his sister to help you get organized and in the car an his mum to help calm him down as he started yelling at the top of his voice.

"Yah! my baby is having my baby" he shouted.

"Calm down it's not instant" his mother scolded as he carried the bags to the car.

Hyunjin:

You and Hyunjin had sort of fallen together in a sort of oops I fell in love with you sort of way after becoming friends while he was filming a three part SKZ Talker.

It was a pretty whirlwind romance with him telling you in a matter of months he was going to marry you when the company gave them all a decent break and because of that you had also quickly fallen pregnant.

Hyunjin had taken the news well he was surprised but happy his parents were shocked but happy and Kkami tolerated you so everything was pretty much perfect.

Hyunjin proposed within a few days and told the members what was happening telling them that the next decent break you were getting married so that you could be the perfect family.

When your waters broke you were visiting him at the studio, it wasn't a gallons of fluid situation just a small popping sensation and slight trickle that made you gasp.

"What's wrong my love?" he frowned thinking you had hurt yourself.

"Baby, my waters just went" you smiled wide eyes and slightly surprised.

"What! Right now! You're having the baby now!" he shrieked before almost slumping against Felix who looked panicked and lowered him to the floor.

"Who ever bet against him fainting owes me money" you announced calling your future mother in law who was staying with you as Chan tried to rouse Hyunjin.

"Hi Mum... my waters went.... yes I told Hyunjin... no he's passed out...yes that is what I thought too" you sighed looking at your fiancé fondly.

Han:

After marrying Han he had told you that although he wanted kids he was in no rush so when it happened it happened, you were thrilled with this since it meant there was no pressure on either of you so you simply enjoyed married life.

So almost two years later when you watched the pregnancy test say thee weeks+ you were thrilled and so was Han holding you so tight and telling you how wonderful you would be as a mother.

Your pregnancy was not easy and you were sick constantly But Han was always there telling you how well you were doing even if you felt awful.

Your waters broke on the way back from the bathroom in the middle of the night and you fumbled around to turn on your bed side lamp.

"What's wrong baby?" he mumbled lifting his head slightly off the pillow.

"My waters have just broken" you whispered in confusion.

"Shit I'm on it" he yelped rolling out of bed and putting on one sock before coming around the bed to help you.

"One sock will help how?" you giggled as he quickly woke up properly.

"Umm don't really know to be honest" He flushed looking at the water on the floor and not moving.

"Can you get my hospital bag please? just checked it's zipped up before you grab it" you smiled knowing that he was trying his best.

"Of course....I think the car is out of fuel we will need to get some on the way" he blurted looking at you with big eyes as he picked up your bag not checking the zipper and sending things everywhere.

"Uhuh we are soooo ready for this" you laughed properly this time.

Felix:

You had met and married Felix within a year, he was the most caring, sweet and loving person you had ever met and you were as sure as he was that you were meant to be.

Felix had long proved to you that he was always going to put you and your wishes first when it came to the birth of your first child so when he went to Chan and the other members to tell them that you wanted to give birth in your home country with your mum by your side they were surprised but supportive.

Chan had arranged for Felix to go on a hiatus with the company to ensure a little privacy for you both and the company had agreed that when you returned they would not confirm or deny any rumors on your behalf unless you both wanted to make it public that you were now parents.

When your waters finally went you were both feeling so excited that there was little room for worry, Felix had everything ready to go and held your hand the whole way to the hospital while he drove. Your mum met you there and he was adamant with all the nurses and midwives that the pair of them were going to stay with you regardless of what happened.

Spends the whole time you check in and get comfortable in the hospital either holding you, kissing your forehead or holding your hand for support.

"You are doing amazing cupcake, but if you need anything you tell me and I will make it happen".

Seungmin:

Seugmin was your dream husband, he was so caring and soft with you but also trusted you fully to live your life independently from him when he was away on activities or on tour.

You had been married for five years before you even brought up the possibility of having a child and he couldn't have been more excited asking if you could start trying straight away. Which you did throwing away your birth control and hoping for the best you fell pregnant far more quickly than you expected, within a month, which was a blessing and also made Seungmin insanely smug.

Your waters broke during the first snow of the season and Seungmin was much calmer than you telling you that he had already had your hospital bag and the babies bag already packed in the car, he made sure that they had been there for the last two weeks. You laughed and kissed him on the cheek while he tried his best to get your very pregnant body into you not designed for pregnancy winter coat.

"Well this is not going to work" he muttered to himself mainly quickly trying to think up what to do next "Here I'll wrap you in this and then you will stay warm"

"Min that is the blanket from our bed" you giggled as he made you a sort of cape/toga hybrid to wear.

"I didn't factor in the whole coat scenario alright but I have everything else totally under control".

I.N

You and Jeongin had met through friends, you had clicked and your relationship always felt easy and loving. So no one was shocked when he proposed after almost a year together.

Although you had gotten engaged neither of you had even talked about having a baby the test you took for a prank showing two pink lines made the conversation happen pretty darn quick.

Although both of you were scared of how big a responsibility having a child was going to be you quickly realized that having a child with Jeongin would be a wonderful thing, he was going to be a wonderful father so it was going to be alright.

When your waters broke Jeongin tried his very best to not panic, while you called the hospital he called Chan. While you called your mum he called Lee Know and when you called his mum he called Changbin. The three of which all turned up pretty damn fast if you really had bothered to stop and think about it.

"Alright, I have the car running" Chan announced letting himself into your apartment.

"Are the bags in your room or the nursery?" Changbin called walking straight through to get them for you.

"It's important you stay hydrated and try to eat something now to keep your strength up, I've bought all the snacks you will need for at least the rest of today depending on how it all goes" Lee Know smiled softly handing you the bag before patting Jeongin on the shoulder.

"Are you going to help the mother of your child to the car or should I?" Chan smiled softly taking your hand and leading you to the front door to put some shoes on you.

"Oh... I'm on it" Jeongin nodded trying to look like he was holding it all together as Changbin walked passed with the bags and Lee Know picked up your cat to take back to his place until you were home again.

"I didn't realize you were going to need back up" you laughed softly as Jeongin shut the apartment door behind you all making him blush.

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay899, @damnyouficcc, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @bakedlilgoonienie,

[tadpolesonalgae]

Modern!Amarantha x Fem!reader: Human Centipede[*]

A/N: I’ve been listening to the song Red Flags on repeat and it made me think modern!Amarantha would totally be a true crime girlie and would watch horror to relax :)

Also, I can’t explain it, but I hate the word dildo so much. Like, it just sounds weird :’/

Warnings: sex pill/sex pollen vibes, cross-contamination (do not do this, pls), mean domme!Amarantha, face-riding, sex toys.

To this day, you have no idea why she’d taken an interest in you.

It’s not even that you feel dissatisfied with your features—she’s simply devastatingly beautiful. Armed with a dazzling smile and provokingly intellectual mind, you fell fast. And hard. She’s so smart, it never ceases to amaze you. You still don’t fully know her university course, but you’ve gathered it’s something to do with biology—or chemistry…what’s the difference again?

She’s incredibly well-spoken, clearly having grown up with a thorough education, often dancing rotations around you whenever you engage in conversation, then also often having to slow down, using words more familiar to you. She’s never impatient with your lack of knowledge over your own vocabulary. Honestly, she seems to enjoy explaining things to you—getting this glint in her eye whenever you ask her to explain yet another word.

Either way, you’d worked up the nerve to ask her, half expecting to have been strung along for an ego boost, or some light amusement. Yet, when you’d voiced your request, hands trembling behind your back, she’d accepted!

You could have vomited with relief, but thankfully managed to keep your stomach in check before her cultivated beauty. You would now get to hear her introduce you as her girlfriend—her girlfriend. You nearly burst with blind adoration for her the first time she voiced the title, a wild warmth heating your cheeks as you shook her coursemates’ hands.

But that had been a few months ago—seven, to be precise—and things were going astonishingly well. A few arguments here and there, but that was to be expected, and they seemed to be sorted out with remarkable ease. Often ending in both of you leaving for a few hours, returning to apologise, then you being shoved into her bed—sometimes yours, but usually hers.

Now you’re ringing her doorbell, requesting entrance to her accommodation. It was another one of her date nights, which meant you would inevitably end up cowering beneath a blanket as she watched one of her gratuitously bloody horror films with rapt attention. Sometimes she was a little scary—but maybe it was a little attractive. Very attractive.

She pulls you in for a kiss, and instantly you’re melting into her body, the carnations forgotten as her lips slant over yours, and you moan softly. She pulls away, eyes glinting as she thumbs away a slight smudge of her lipstick that’s been stamped on your lower lip.

It takes a moment for you to emerge from your dazed state, raising the bouquet for her to take. “I thought it might be time for new ones,” you smile at her, a small shudder traveling down your spine as her eyes settle on yours, nails scraping over your knuckles. “How do you do this every time?” She asks over her shoulder as she swishes down the hallway to give the flowers some water. “You always seem to know when the last ones have begun to wilt.”

You laugh absently, gaze narrowing on her ass as she walks away from you, oblivious to your wandering mind. Can she blame you though? In a pretty red dress like that, the hem barely reaching her mid thighs, the sleeves going off the shoulder to display the elegant sweep of her neck, a glittering necklace designed to appear as crystallised blood drops hugging her throat. “Maybe I just have a sixth sense for it,” you joke, removing your shoes as you follow after her to the open-plan floor.

Casually, you slide onto the sofa, instantly nestling into the plethora of pillows and blankets that smell of her shampoo—detergent. Fresh cotton and linen. “What have you selected to haunt me with tonight?” You ask, dread already coiling in the pit of your belly. The only upside is she usually lets you bury yourself into her through the duration of whatever horror she feels like, generally followed by a strange form of aftercare, consisting of her talking and explaining her work to you. Which is honestly quite fun: it takes your mind off the film and you get to learn more about her. A win-win, if you will.

“It’s one of my favourites,” she calls, returning to the section of the floor dedicated to the sitting room. “A masterpiece of art, in my opinion.” You offer a shaky smile, thankfully taking the glass of water she’d brought you, “what’s it about?”

“The premise?” She asks. You nod, assuming it’s the right word for whatever you’re asking. “German doctor sews three people anus to mouth.”

You cough into your drink, hurriedly setting it down as you wipe your mouth, turning to stare at her, “and it’s a horror film?” Her lips quirk, and heat washes down your spine, “you sound surprised.” You swallow, eyeing her nervously from the sofa, already fearing the movie—and it has’t even begun.

“So it’s not pornography?” You hedge. The description just sounded a bit…well, there are lots of people in the world. Her smirk turns wolfish, eyes glinting. “I suppose it depends who’s watching, doesn’t it?” You gulp, shifting beneath the blankets. It’ll only be a few hours, you hope. You can last a few hours for her, you’ve done it before.

“It sounds pretty graphic, Am…” You fret, peeking at her over the blanket. She rolls her eyes, mouth still set in that grin of hers that you know means she’s going to enjoy every second of your squirming. “That’s the point. Now settle down, and enjoy it.” Her sharp tone implies enough about what she’ll do to you afterward. And maybe it makes you desperate but you sigh, doing as she says. You miss that gleam in her eye as she watches you follow her orders without much regard for yourself. Promising indeed. How lucky she is to have found such a willing participant in her games. A lovely, little guinea pig.

————

You spend most of the film squirming back into the sofa, but she doesn’t snap at you once for disturbing her. Instead, you catch her eyes on you at multiple points, observing you quietly. If you had a sound mind, you would have found it unnerving. But you don’t, so you end the film with wetness coalescing between your thighs instead.

“What did you think?” She asks, smiling faintly at what must be your slightly pallid complexion. You swallow nervously, searching for a way to speak well of her chosen film, without lying. “The costume design was lovely. Special Effects too…woah. They really…did that, huh?” You give her a shaky smile, hoping that’ll end her questioning.

It seems satisfactory, because she leans forward, arms wrapping around your waist. You follow happily, crawling into her lap as her hands settle on your hips, bringing her mouth to your own as her lips slant over yours.

Heat gathers quickly between you, perhaps spurred on by your need to forget the content you just consumed by her will. Her teeth find place in your lower lip, and you whimper, hands moving from her shoulders to push at the neckline of her sinful dress.

She pulls back, keeping you still as you pursue her needfully. “Will you do something for me, pet?” She asks softly, her mouth just out of reach of your own. “Anything,” you sigh, gaze latching to hers. She holds a pill before you, and you nearly go cross-eyed to focus on it, “I want you to swallow this for me.”

You take it from her, plucking the small button shaped tablet for you to examine. Not that it does you much good. “What is it?” You ask curiously, shifting in her lap—reminding yourself of the ache between your thighs. “An experiment,” she answers. Your eyes flick to hers warily, “it’s something you developed?” She nods.

“And it’s gone through those preliterary rounds? Of testing and stuff?” She’d mentioned something like that once. Maybe it had been stationery rounds…? Did stationery have two meanings or three? And was it spelt with and E or and A? Amarantha would know.

She nods again, but smiles as if she knows you’re talking out of your ass. You hesitate, considering. If it’s been properly tested…maybe it’s okay then. Surely she wouldn’t give you something unless it’s guaranteed to be fine. Still…

“What does it do?” You ask, eyes raising to her keen set.

“I thought it could be a surprise,” she counters smoothly. A surprise… So it has to be good then. Kind of, at least? You bite your lip. If it would make her happy, then you guess…

“You don’t have to take it,” she sighs, sounding mildly disappointed as she reaches to take it from you. “No!” You exclaim, putting it on your tongue for it to dissolve before she has the chance to remove it. You want to make her pleased, and you trust her, so it’ll be fine.

She grins, eyes widening marginally with feminine pleasure at your unthinking obedience. “Good girl,” she murmurs, cupping your cheek, lust dancing in her gaze as she takes you in.

You have no idea what you’ve just done, and it sends a thrill down her spine. That you’d satisfy her request so mindlessly—yes, you’re perfect for her. With your eagerness to please her, she couldn’t have dreamed up a better partner for her experiments.

It shouldn’t take long to start working, especially since she knows you’re already anticipating being thrown into her bed—looking forward to it. She does so hope you’ll enjoy this as much as she will. Getting to see you all flushed and messy, panting and sweating as you writhe on her bed, pleading for the slightest brush of relief from her.

Oh yes, she’s going to enjoy tonight.

———

“Am…” you whimper into the darkness of her apartment. “Am, please.”

She cocks her head, watching you with barely concealed delight. It had acted quicker than she had thought, but that gives no complaints on her end. “What do you want, pet?”

You whimper louder, squirming on her bed, completely naked, save for the thigh-highs she’d clothed you in before starting. And the blood red rope binding your forearms together at your back. And also the rope shackling your calves to your thighs. All together, she’s gotten you lying on her bed in the dark, spine arched to make room for your arms and legs that have been tied beneath you.

She steps forward a pace, and you keep your thighs spread and still as she trails her fingers down over your abdomen. She traces some imaginary swirls over the sensitive skin, your muscles flexing beneath her nails. “Please touch me,” you beg, breathlessly, panting into the night. “Hmm? You want me to touch you?” You nod frantically, holding back from bucking your hips, raising to meet her finger tips.

“I don’t know about that, pet,” she hums, clearly amused by your desperation. You could sob from the ache that has you soaking her bed sheets, duvet long ago tossed to the floor. “Am…” you pant, head tossing to the side with the effort of keeping your body still as her fingers dance over your thighs. “Am, please…please.”

“Convince me,” she says, retracing her hand and you whimper, vision blurring as your hips buck. Maybe if you can get upright you can spread your legs enough to get some friction from her mattress. “Why should I give into you? I don’t want to encourage bad behaviour, pet.” Your eyes open as they locate her form, brows furrowing as sweat begins to push up through your skin.

“I know you didn’t enjoy the film. You hate horror,” she explains, folding her arms so that her tits are plumped up. You swallow, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your heat. “Isn’t that right, pet?” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as your head falls back into her pillow. But— “Yes, ma’am.”

You can practically envision the way she shivers at the title. She loves it when you use it without her having to ask, namely because it signifies you’ve already reached the point that you’ll do just about anything she asks. Complete submission.

“That’s right, and yet you pretended to like it, didn’t you?” She crawls on top of you, and you whimper when the clothing of her dress scrapes across your sensitive nipples. “Dirty, little liar, aren’t you?” Even in the darkness, you can tell her eyes are gleaming. She’s looking for a reason to punish you.

You shake your head, “no! I liked it, I swear!” She tilts her head to the side, smiling slightly, and you arch your back a little more, the soft weight of her breasts pushing onto you. “Yeah? You liked it?” She asks, leaning closer. You flush with need, wishing your arms weren’t constrained. “Yeah…a little scary, but good. I liked it, Am.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks down at you, weighing your answer. All too suddenly, she smiles, removing herself from your body and tears brim at your lashes. “Am, please!” You whine, hips bucking at the loss of contact. She shushes you, walking over to her TV. “You said you liked it,” she supplies, still smiling from the other end of the room. You nod, though she can’t see you. “Well, you’re in luck, pet,” she drawls, and the beginning of a film starts playing. “There’s a second one!”

You could cry, sob, scream. From pleasure, pain, and an absence of both.

“Oh, don’t pull that face, I’m done teasing you now,” she laughs, but it’s sinister, and you can’t help the feeling that she’s lying somehow. No way it’s over that easy. “Of course, you’re still going to have to work for me, pet.” Yup. There it is. But at least you know the catch now; hopefully it won’t trip you up.

She walks back over to the bed, and you bite your lip to suppress a moan as her eyes lick between your thighs, drinking in the sight of your glistening heat. You open your legs a little wider in response, inviting her to touch you in any way she wants. Her lips quirk, but she moves to her bedside drawer, pulling out a—

“I’ve cleaned it, of course. Cross-contamination, and all that.” She’s caught off guard by a kick of pleasure as you have the audacity to look mildly disappointed. Dumb, little thing. “You want me to use it first?” She asks, arousal clouding the edges of her vision. You’re so, so perfect.

You nod your head frantically and it’s enough to have her resolve fracturing. She sighs, resigned, as she sets the dildo on the bed, enjoying your attention as she pulls the tight, red dress over her head. Your mouth goes dry; your cunt goes hot as you take her in, devouring every inch of her perfection.

Her lips fashion themselves into a smirk as you take in her lacy red underthings: a matching set. “You know I like to prepare,” she drawls, prowling onto the bed. She settles at the foot of the mattress, so she has a lovely view of the hot mess between your thighs. “Open a little wider for me, would you?” She asks, grinning. You follow her order obediently, spreading yourself so she’ll be able to get to you, should she want. You hope she does.

“That’s it. Good girl.” The praise settles in the pit of your tummy, adding to the already unbearable heat between your legs, bubbling away.

Your skin goes hot, then cold, as she places the toy beneath her, going up onto her knees. Her eyes lock on yours, mouth parting in a quiet breath as her fingers slip into her wet heat. The sounds are obscene for the start of what is bound to be a long night. Her digits locate her clit with innate ease, circling a few times before dipping down, experimenting with how wet she is.

It seems it’s satisfactory as she brings her hand back up the front of her body, trailing silvery lines of arousal over her skin as she cups her breast. “You’d better be enjoying the view, pet. This is especially for you,” she grins, flicking her fingers over her nipples as she lowers herself enough so the toy is nestled between her thighs. It’s barely past the tip, but you’re already so turned on by the sight of her being so sexual with you that your mind goes dizzy.

Amarantha laughs slightly, taking in your awed expression. “You always get that look when you see me. Like you’d do anything to have your mouth on me at all times.” You nod eagerly, whimpering at the statement. That idea sounds really, fucking appetising right now. She chuckles at your response, how enthusiastic you are about enjoying her.

A wicked light gleams in her eyes as she begins sinking down onto the toy and you watch as it fills her up. “Maybe I should look into finding ways to keep your warm, wet mouth attached to my pretty cunt? Would you like that, pet?” You don’t have it in you to be ashamed as you nod again, too high on arousal and the promise of pleasure to care about the indignity. “Yeah? Want to be my little centipede, hm?” You don’t care anymore, you just nod. Nod to everything she says in the hopes it’ll encourage her to move onto you faster and satisfy the ache between your thighs.

“That’s my girl. So desperate for me, aren’t you? Do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you?” She drawls, finally settling on the bed, the toy beep inside her heat. She looks down, noting the same. When her eyes lock on yours, there’s something more animal in her gaze, something sharp and wicked. Honed and bladed. Her lips lift in a feline curve, “ready for me, pet?”

You put your teeth in your lip as you bite down a moan, waiting for her to move, nodding. She smiles, lifting off the dildo as she crawls up your body. One hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head, tugging you upright, guiding the tip to your mouth. “Go on,” she goads, still smiling, “have a taste.”

You don’t need to be told twice, eyes locking on hers lustfully as your tongue flicks out, latching your mouth over the head of the toy, tasting her on your tongue. You moan, brows curving upward as you silently plead for more. She smiles, pushing you back into the bed. “You want something better? Something more intense? More pleasurable?” She drawls. “Yes! Please, Am! Please, please!”

Amarantha laughs. “Open wide, pet.”

You don’t hesitate, tongue lolling out, awaiting her soft, wet heat to grace your mouth. Instead, she pushes the base of the dildo between your lips, teeth fitting into the divot between the small suction pad and the beginning of the toy comfortably. “I didn’t say who it would be more pleasurable for, love,” she grins, swinging her leg over your head, hand tangling in your hair so she can watch as she sinks down onto your mouth. “Besides, isn’t this so much better? You get to watch me fuck myself on top of you. You can watch as this pretty thing sinks deep into my pretty cunt. Isn’t that what you want?”

She grins, knowing you can’t reply. “Just think about it, pet. I’m already dripping over you. This toy’s going to be swallowed up before you even know what’s happening, and then it’ll be like what you’re used to. You get to have your pretty face between my legs, while I get myself off on your mouth.” She tightens around the toy as she hears your muffled whine. You’re panting deeply, body being ravaged by that lovely little pill you’d so mindlessly taken.

“And then, when it’s nice and wet, I’ll put it inside of you. Won’t you like that, pet? Having me so deep inside of you? Like I’m filling you up with my come? Imagine me coating your insides. Won’t that be lovely?” Your eyes practically roll back as she winds her hips over the dildo, settling low enough her wet heat presses down onto you, and you indulge.

It’s just like she said: she’s dripping, her arousal collecting every time she slides down on the cock, letting it trickle into your mouth, collecting on your tongue. “Yeah? Is that better, pet? Enjoying it more now?” She taunts, clit pressing onto your nose. You nod, if only because you know it’ll feel good for her.

Amarantha moans at the movement, thighs going weak as her full weight settles over you and you could swear you’re in heaven. Her heat encasing your senses, her fingers in your hair, knowing her muscles are going weak from pleasure—pleasure that you’re helping provide. “Such a good girl, aren’t you?” She whispers softly, eyes peeking open to look at you. “So good at getting me off, huh?” She laughs to herself. “My little centipede,” she coos.

God, you hope that name doesn’t stick.

Outside the bedroom, at least.

She nods to herself, “I think that’s enough, don’t you?” Then she’s raising onto her knees, leaving you feeling cold as she removes the dildo from your mouth. She turns on your face, so she’s looking down at your bound body. “Ready for me, pet? Ready to have me inside of you? Inside your pretty little cunt?” She asks, a honeyed lilt to her words. “Yes!” A plead and confirmation in one, feeling like you could sob as she presses the tip of the toy at your entrance. The idea of it being inside of you, so soon after having been used by her…the world spins a little.

“Stay with me,” she orders, tapping the head of the object on your clit. A startled moan spills from your lips, making her chuckle. “There you go, swallow it up.” She pushes the warm head inside of you, and you spread your thighs wide, raising your hips as much as you can. One of her hands wraps beneath your shin, helping to move them out from under you.

Tears slip from your lashes as she fills you up—at last. Arousal spills down your thighs as you mix together, deep inside your cunt. “Yes, yes, yes,” you breathe softly, over and over.

“Good girl, keep taking it. Take it all—yes, that’s right.” You could sob when it’s fully inside of you, touching those sensitive spots that make you tighten. “Ready, now? Ready for some fun?” She asks from above you, and you can hear how needy she is, having been the one to watch as she pushed the used dildo into your pussy.

“Yes, ma’am,” you whimper, barely more than a soft exhale onto her inner thigh. “Perfect,” she murmurs, just before settling down onto your mouth. You open on autopilot, tongue darting out to taste her because you need her flavour, need to feel her, need to have her in your stomach. You moan against her soft, wet heat, pushing your wet muscle against her entrance, flicking it over her clit.

You cry out when her fingers begin oscillating gently over your bundle of nerves, landing soft taps and careful strokes to stimulate you while pushing the toy in and out. “Stop pleasuring me, and you won’t get an orgasm, pet,” she breathes lowly, the threat coming out clear as day. “I can force you to give me as many highs as I want with you all wrapped up like this. You don’t need to do a thing,” she warns, grinding over your mouth. “All I need to do is take a seat on your face and strap a vibrator to myself and you’ll be drowning in my cum.”

You’re tempted to stop just so she will, but you need your own release—so badly. So you keep working, tongue flicking over her clit as she pays you the attention you’ve been dying for; craving throughout the night.

Amarantha curses lowly, “good girl, that’s it. Keep doing that and I’ll be coming on your tongue in no time. Just keep fucking going. Work that mouth of yours. Don’t you dare stop.” You wouldn’t dream of it—you want her to come as much as she does. Her oscillations tighten, adding pressure and you feel the toy bumping against those spots again. Your muscles seize in preparation, pushing your face deeper into her wet heat, wanting to have all of her on your mouth as you suckle her clit.

There’s no way your face is anything but drenched, but you find the thought appealing: having her scent, her slick on your skin as proof of her pleasure. Pleasure you’ve served her. It’s enough to have you tipping over the edge. By the feel of it, she’s going with you, grinding herself over your mouth as arousal drips off her, coating you entirely as she curses again and again. You allow her to move as she wants, riding your face, sticking your tongue out as it swipes over her clit until she’s calmed down.

She allows the toy to slip out of your sopping cunt, flopping on her mattress as she pulls off your face. She’s panting, lipstick a little faded, but looking as appetising as ever. You want her to do that again. Want to flip her on her back so you can go down on her, show her how much you love her.

“How’re you feeling, pet?” She pants, swinging off your mouth so she’s at your side. “Am…” you breathe, looking at her needfully, “please, untie me.”

She seems a little disappointed at that, “tapping out?” Her eyes eagerly track the rise and fall of your chest, skin gleaming with sweat. “No way in hell. But I need you on your back, Am,” you pant, looking at her with heat in your eyes that tells her exactly what you want to do.

It’s the quickest she’s ever obliged a request you’ve made in bed before, and she’s never been more proud of an experiment than tonight. It’s justified, to her—even if you’re the first trial run, and she’d lied to you, you’d still taken the pill without asking the right questions. And the outcome is fine. More than fine, even.

The pill is doing exactly what it’s supposed to, and now you’re working her to orgasm after orgasm thanks to her hard work in her lab. A fitting reward, having the power to turn you into her little sex slave whenever she wants. And all she needs to do is give you that faked look of disappointment; you’ll be coerced into anything.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[maximura]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity | An interstellar Ateez story Part I (Words 1322, Warnings: None)

The Earth is dying. My family all turned into farmers, like everyone else's. The world didn't need more engineers or pilots, we didn't run out of planes or computers, we ran out of food. First it was wheat, then rice, then barley. One by one the virus wiped them out and we had to keep finding crop to withstand the constant mutating viral strains. Eventually, it was just corn and dust. It was suffocating and everywhere: in our hair, on our skin, in our lungs. My father prepared us best he could but we knew it would only be a few years before we succumbed to starvation, if the dust-lung didn't get us first. -KJH, deceased, 2028

Hongjoong shuffles into the kitchen, savouring the quiet stillness of the early morning dawn, even if the cold bites at his skin. He removes the plastic coverings from the stovetop, taking care to gently wipe off the dust so it doesn't fill the entire room. The pipes groan and clunk as he lets the tapwater run for a few murky seconds before filling the kettle. There's not much of a breeze this early but the corn crops outside their back window seem to peacefully sway in the morning light, their contentment belying the struggle it takes to ensure their ongoing existence.

At least they have crop this year. There was decent rain, half of it acid but the corn still survived, which not only meant a steady source of food but also employment. Hongjoong checks his bookings for the day and its three back to back requests for crop duster maintenance. He'd rather be in the air then on the ground, but these days, nobody is getting what they want.

There's the faint sound of escalating bickering from the rooms above him, and predictably, the pounding of two sets of feet down the stairs seconds later.

"Hongjoong, tell Wooyoung that ghosts aren't real." It's Yunho, Hongjoong's younger brother, who turns eighteen in a month but already thinks he's the man of the house. "He's too old to still be thinking like a baby."

"I'm not a baby! Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not real!" Wooyoung replies tartly, sitting down at the dining table with the kind of dramatic huff that only a fourteen year old could summon. "It's not my fault you're so stupid!"

It's like this most mornings and even though he's only twenty-four years old this year himself, Hongjoong feels all the heaviness that he guesses must come with parenting two opinionated boys. He wonders how on earth their parents had once managed with all three of them.

"Wooyoung, don't call your brother stupid." Hongjoong admonishes, internally groaning that he can not only hear his Dad Voice come out but that he even has a Dad Voice in the first place.

"But-"

"..and Yunho, why can't you just let him have his own fun? Who cares if you believe in ghosts or not, the point is that he does, so leave him alone."

Wooyoung sticks his tongue out at his brother across that table. Yunho simply eye rolls but doesn't argue back, instead he drags his tall gangly frame over to help Hongjoong with their breakfast, not even asking for instructions because he's finally learnt the ropes after years of having it repeated to him.

It sometimes strikes at the most random times but little moments like this are how Hongjoong can tell how grown up Yunho really is. For all his contrarian tendencies, he really has grown up, both physically and emotionally, since their parents died. It gives Hongjoong a surge of immense pride whenever a moment like this happens.

Breakfast is a simple meal built around necessity and sustenance for the day and like with all their meals, there's rarely any room for luxury or requests. Both boys have had their moments of throwing tantrums over the lack of choice and variety but Hongjoong is grateful they've grown out of that behaviour. He hates not being able to do a damn thing about it anyway.

Yunho is in his last year of high school now and thinking seriously about the future. Wooyoung on the other hand...

"There's a parent teacher meeting tonight." Yunho says, as they get into Hongjoong's pick up truck for the drive to school. "You have to go to it this time or they'll unleash the social worker on us again."

"Yeah yeah, I know." Hongjoong sighs as he reverses down their dirt driveway. "What time is it again?"

4pm. And apparently not a second later.

"Kim, it's 4:35pm." Yonghwan frowns disappointedly, which is quite the feat since he's their town's youngest science teacher and accustomed to being disappointed daily. "These meetings are important to us and Wooyoung's future, even if you don't seem to acknowledge that yourself."

It takes physical force for Hongjoong not to storm out of there.

"Yes, sorry Yonghwan. I had three back to back jobs today, it-"

Yonghwan sighs and waves off whatever excuse Hongjoong had on the tip of his tongue. "Save it. Let's get straight to the issue here: Wooyoung is failing science."

"What?!" Hongjoong laughs incredulously. "Wooyoung? My Wooyoung? That little science nerd is failing it? How the heck is that possible?"

Yonghwan's lips purses into a grim line before sliding a piece of paper across the table. It's a test with Wooyoung's name on top in scrawly black pen and a bright red C right next to it. Before he feels the need to defend the little menace, Yonghwa simply tells him to read through the questions.

Oh.

"Yes." Yonghwan says in a weary tone. "He is questioning the validity of the questions and then protesting why writing a correct answer would be possible in the circumstances."

Hongjoong resists the urge to laugh.

That little shit.

Yonghwan takes back the paper from Hongjoong and reads one test question out loud.

In basic terms, explain how Albert Einstein disproved Isaac Newton's Theory of Gravity.

Yonghwan clears his throat, "And the answer he wrote was: there is a special hell for people who pit two geniuses against each other in a science test like this. TLDR: mercury's orbit."

Hongjoong can't contain the cackle that comes bursting out.

Yonghwan sighs and shakes his head again. "I'm glad this amuses you but it definitely doesn't amuse any of his other teachers and is unlikely to amuse the university boards when the time comes."

University would not be for another three years but every mention of time has Hongjoong on edge. Nobody on Earth has time. Time is the one constant that can't be reversed. Gravity is a spectrum, depending where you are in the universe. Distance can be reduced and erased to zero or lengthened to infinity. But time? Time only goes forward. There is no theory, no laws, no equation to reverse or control time.

"He's not wrong though." Hongjoong counters, suddenly feeling sober. "Newton's theory is why we can have a space program. Einstein just course corrected. I don't see why Wooyoung needed to fail the test because he was a little shit about it."

Yonghwan's withering gaze from across the teacher's table makes Hongjoong feel like he's back in high school all over again.

"Listen, Hongjoong," Yonghwan starts, tone as patronising as his placating hand movements. "I understand that you were once a very bright student, I know you were in the pilot program but times have changed and we-"

"Actually I studied engineering too." Hongjoong retorts. "You know I gave that up to manage the farm and the kids when our parents died of dust-lung. So don't talk to me like I'm stupid okay?"

*

Wooyoung is leaning against their pick up truck when Hongjoong is finally done with the parent-teacher meeting.

"Well? How did it go?"

Hongjoong clears his throat and opens the doors.

"I got you suspended."

[takingchences]

𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏

A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: swearing

In the MHA/BNHA canon, there are already characters named Twice, Momo, and Mina, and all of them are Japanese. As a Kpop fan, I felt compelled to add a Sana to complete the set

series masterlist + my masterlist

The first recorded quirk was of a baby in Qing Qing City who could radiate light from her body. That baby later grew up to have a family, who started their own and so on and so forth. The cycle repeated itself again and again, with each new generation engaging in quirk marriages specifically designed to strengthen the original power passed down to them so many years ago.

The last coupling of a descendant, Yoichi Sakano, and a woman named Suzume Takahashi had produced the strongest quirk user yet—a daughter named Sana.

And so, our story begins.

Today officially marks the beginning of the rest of my life.

For the next three years, Sana Sakano would be attending the prestigious U.A High, the highest ranked heroics school in the country. After finishing in the top 5 of the recommendations exam, Sana knew firsthand how steep the competition would be. It wouldn't be an easy climb to the top, that was for sure, especially when she knew she'd have to face off against ridiculously talented people like Shoto Todoroki.

The two teens had known each other since they were toddlers, having first met after receiving their quirks. Enji Todoroki had wanted someone to push his masterpiece to his limits and force Shoto to work harder. Of course, Sana's father had no problems offering his daughter as a training partner for the son of the Number Two Hero. Endeavor had initially introduced Sana to the half-and-half boy as "a necessary obstacle to overcome if he were to surpass All Might in the future." But the head of the Todoroki family hadn't anticipated for the human punching bag he'd gifted his creation to strike back as hard as she did.

That first training session had ultimately ended in Sana's loss, but she'd put up one hell of a fight.

At first, the two children couldn't stand the sight of the other. Their fathers weren't arranging play dates like normal parents; no, whenever the two kids were together, it meant pain was coming. They'd been pitted against each other from the start. Not having a chance to properly introduce themselves led to a lot of misunderstandings during their first year of training. But as time passed and they grew to acknowledge and appreciate the other as a person, the rivalry eventually evolved into an unlikely friendship.

Sana checked her phone for any notifications, only to be disappointed that there was nothing from the candy cane-haired male she'd once called her best friend. Something between them had changed, and the peach-haired girl wasn't sure how to make things right again. It all started a few months ago, with Endeavor canceling their training sessions indefinitely. Since then, Shoto had been more reserved than usual, growing more and more distant. It was like the closer they got to attending U.A, the more he seemed to pull away and withdraw into himself.

Now, Shoto had never been a warm and fuzzy person to begin with. It just wasn't his nature. But there were times that he'd lowered his guard enough to allow Sana to see beyond the ice prince persona he'd built over the years.

Apart from Rei, Sana was probably the only person that knew who Shoto Todoroki really was. They'd grown up together. She'd been by his side during his lowest moments and vice versa. Sana knew all of his weaknesses just as he knew her's. She'd seen the kindness Shoto kept tucked away behind a wall of ice, the quiet passion that burned within his chest. A fire that hadn't been lit by Shoto's father, but in an ironic twist, his mother. A roaring flame that fueled his desire to do good, to be a better man than the poor example he'd been made to follow.

But now there was a chasm separating the two childhood friends. A gaping wound that neither knew how—or on his part, willing—to repair.

Months had passed since Shoto had last spoken to her. Without their weekly training sessions, Sana had been forced to prepare for U.A's recommendation exam alone. She'd seen the dual-haired male in passing during the tests, but he'd coldly brushed her off every time she'd tried to approach him or offer words of encouragement.

"Great. My first day of high school and I have no friends." Sana pouted, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of her teal skirt as she worried over her reflection one last time. She chose to leave her hair down, but packed a ribbon just in case she needed to tie it back later. This should be fun. She scooped up her backpack on her way downstairs, tossing a strap over her shoulder.

At the head of the dining table reading the newspaper was her father. As expected, his pale salmon hair was styled perfectly with a few gray hairs lining his temples. The full plate of food in front of him sat untouched. The light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows cast a glare on his rectangular frames, making his expression unreadable. Sana took a deep breath before taking her seat at the table. Yoichi spared her a glance, clearing his throat to get her attention.

"So, today's the day, huh." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, sir." Sana answered, avoiding his icy blue eyes and picking at her breakfast. Chocolate chip and banana pancakes, her favorite growing up. They were even arranged into a happy face on her plate. Umi, the head maid of the house, obviously wanted to celebrate the joyous occasion.

"My little firefly is going to be a hero!" She'd told anyone who would listen for the past month. Umi's endless love for a child that wasn't her's to care for had always taken Sana by surprise. Maybe because she wasn't accustomed to openly receiving affection.

Not anymore, that is.

"Kids these days have such foolish aspirations, don't you think?" He scoffed, picking up where he'd left off reading. "Heroes," he said with a condescending laugh, a finger to his lips. "People parading around in ridiculous costumes, calling each other childish names." His hand fell, revealing an empty, practiced smile; the only one she'd ever seen him wear, even in rare family photos or during his numerous appearances on TV.

"They're only trying to make themselves feel more important than they actually are."

Just like you, she wanted to say. Sana swallowed her anger, her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip on her silverware before forcing herself to relax.

"They're tacky and distasteful, yet you insist on ruining my reputation by chasing a pipe dream." Yoichi lectured, shaking his head in shame. "I thought I'd raised you better. But if setting yourself up for failure is the only way for you to accept your place in this world, then so be it." Sana lowered her head and pushed her chair away from the table to stand. His sharp gaze followed her retreating figure. "Leaving already?" He gestured towards her abandoned plate. "You've hardly touched your meal."

Sana paused in the archway leading from the dining room to the entranceway. Moments like these made her miss when she was younger, before she got her quirk. The times when it seemed like her mother's love-filled treats could take away any and all pain; from scraped knees and mild bruises to crushed spirits and emotional scars left in the wake of her father's "motivational" speeches.

Unfortunately, Umi's recipe didn't have the same effects. The once sweet meal had turned to ash on her tongue the moment her father had opened his mouth.

"I lost my appetite."

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Rather than taking one of the town cars like her father had suggested on her way out, Sana chose to make the twenty minute trip to U.A High on foot. It was purely out of spite, but she refused to think about that man any longer. She wouldn't let him ruin what was, so far, the most important day of her existence.

Her skin tingled pleasantly as she soaked in the warm ultraviolet rays in the atmosphere. She could already feel her energy levels replenishing what little she'd lost getting ready. Sana couldn't help but let her mind wander during her peaceful morning walk. She honestly wasn't sure what to expect for the day. No doubt a nationally ranked school like U.A would be different from her past schools. Surely they wouldn't have students attend something as normal as orientation when they could be doing something far more productive. That would be the most rational option, right?

But what would they have us do instead? Sana tapped her chin thoughtfully. Are we expected to start training as soon as the first bell rings?

Up ahead, the front gates of U.A could be seen, the H shaped building piercing the sky. Kids her age and older were hanging around the courtyard, exploring the enormous campus and getting to know each other. Sana passed them all quickly, wanting to reach her classroom and make at least one friend before classes began. She'd need someone to sit with at lunch, since she doubted Shoto could be bothered to do so.

After wandering the halls for a few minutes, the girl finally found the correct door. Class 1-A had a rather large entrance, though she figured it was necessary since the school was expected to provide access for all types of quirks and mutations.

Sliding the door open, Sana was immediately greeted with a few polite hellos that she happily returned. Picking out her desk, she placed her bag in the seat and turned to observe the people around her. Only a small portion of the class had arrived so far. It'd be another fifteen or so minutes before classes began, which gave Sana plenty of time to get to know her peers. In the next row sat a girl with an edgy haircut.

First target acquired.

The girl, Jirou, was a little shy at first, but she opened up more once the topic of music came up. Both Tokoyami and Shoji were men of very few words, so Sana ended up doing most of the talking. Not that she minded, of course. She was used to carrying conversations after spending most of her life with such a stoic boy like Todoroki.

Momo and Iida automatically stuck out as private school types, with their unnaturally straight posture and overly polite mannerisms. Iida, being the more enthusiastic of the two, had energetically greeted the peach-haired girl and shared his hopes for the school year all while performing stiff, robotic movements with his arms. Momo had been more reserved, but just as warm and welcoming as the blue-haired boy.

Sana remembered seeing the girl's spiky ponytail at the recommendation exams.

Mina Ashido, an excitable B-girl with rosy skin, bubblegum curls, and black sclera quickly wormed her way into Sana's heart. The two formed an instant sisterhood after discovering their shared love of fashion, dance, and raspberry flavored lipgloss. Mina, being the social butterfly that she is, took it upon herself to introduce Sana to a former classmate of her's named Eijiro Kirishima. With his scarlet spikes and sunny smile, Kirishima had caught everyone's attention as soon as he'd stepped foot in the room.

Standing beside him was a derpy blonde with a black lighting bolt streaking through his hair. The blonde's eyes lit up after landing on Sana. When he'd noticed the two girls approaching them, he'd nearly short circuited. "Jeez," he rubbed a hand behind his neck, his cheeks glowing in embarrassment. "You're so beautiful I forgot my pickup line."

"Well, you're not so bad yourself, uh...?"

"The name's Denki Kaminari," he held a thumb to his chest proudly. "But you can call me yours." Both girls laughed at the cheesy pick up lines he continued to fire at the peach-haired girl, Sana found the hopeless flirt to be charming in a goofy kind of way. Kirishima, of course, was a precious bean, with his shy, sharktooth smile and obsessive use of the word "manly."

That's it, Sana thought as Mina told the group embarrassing stories from their middle school days, making Kirishima's face burn as red as his freshly-dyed hair. I'm officially adopting him as my child.

Overall, she had a good feeling about Class 1-A... well, except for a pervert named Mineta. Already, he'd tried to peek up the girls' skirts. Sana had knocked the little germ clear across the room before he could try anything else, much to Iida's horror. "Next time he tries something like that, I'll blind him," she'd threatened, tuning out the bluenette's long lecture about respect and classroom etiquette and blah blah blah.

Mina gasped, nudging Sana's arm. "Check out the class hottie!" She pointed, not even trying to be subtle. "He's giving off broody, mysterious vibes." Seated in the very back of the classroom was a devastatingly handsome guy with hair split straight down the middle—one half a stark white, the other a rich crimson.

Shoto Todoroki.

"Yeah," Sana agreed halfheartedly, averting her gaze. "Very mysterious."

Gray and turquoise eyes landed on her figure briefly before turning towards the window. Sana could've sworn she felt the temperature of the room plummet a few degrees, much like her spirits. We'll be seeing each other every day now. The thought gave her a flicker of hope. Sana wanted nothing more than to have her friend back. He'd avoided her like the plague during their final year of middle school. Sharing a class meant that he would be forced to acknowledge her at some point, so until then, all she had to do was wait.

The classroom had rapidly filled up while the girls had been chatting with Kirishima and Kaminari. When Sana finally returned to her seat a few minutes before the bell, she was surprised to find that a majority of the desks were now occupied, including the one directly in front of her. The only defining feature she could make out was his spiky, ash blonde hair. Sana gingerly reached out to tap his shoulder, only to quickly retract her hand as he whipped around to glare at her.

"The hell do you want, extra?" A low, raspy voice flowed over her, vermilion eyes burning into her own.

Sana took a moment to admire the boy's features. He had a well-defined jaw, though his cheeks still held some baby fat. Straight white teeth were bared in a grimace. His skin was smooth and golden, which further complimented his fair hair and brightly colored eyes. He was very attractive, despite the permanent scowl on his face. He looked familiar too, like she'd seen him before, though she was sure they'd never met until today. I'm positive that I've seen that untamable hair somewhere...

Then his words finally sunk in.

"I have a name, you know." Sana grit her teeth while maintaining a saccharine smile. "Sana Sakano."

His eyes narrowed even more at her response. "You think I give a shit? You're just another stepping stone on my way to the top." He tsked before turning to face the front of the room once again. Plum-red irises glowed faintly as she imagined her eyes burning holes through his obnoxiously large head. The universe is really testing me today.

The blonde then proceeded to lean back and prop his feet up on the desk, which immediately earned him a lecture from a certain blue-haired student. "Take your feet off of that desk now!" Iida demanded.

"Huh?" The blonde leaned back in his chair languidly.

With him so close, Sana caught a sweet scent clinging to his hair and clothes. Is that... caramel? She almost snorted at the irony. A sweet smell to balance out the sour attitude, maybe?

"It's the first day and you're already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property, you cretin!" Iida continued to scold him, not that the boy sitting in front of her seemed to care.

"You're kidding me, right? Your old school put a stick up your ass or were you born with it?"

Sana slapped a hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled laughter at his brazen attitude. Next to her, Jirou also struggled to hide her amusement. Who is this guy?! Seriously, is he bold or just plain stupid? She wondered, trying and failing to compose herself. He's making enemies before class has even started!

As Iida tried to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was... whoever the guy was, Sana noticed a small, green-haired boy frozen in the doorway, watching the odd interaction with wide, fearful eyes.

The two stopped bickering and turned as the class fell into a hushed silence. Everyone was looking at the freckled teen, muttering amongst themselves.

What's going on? Sana looked around the room curiously. She heard someone mention the boy's performance during the entrance exam. Ahhh, so that's it. Sana tilted her head, observing the average-looking boy. At first glance, he seemed pretty ordinary. He didn't appear to be a threat, but she knew all too well that looks can be deceiving. Well whatever he did must have left quite an impression.

The broccoli-haired boy, Izuku Midoriya he would later introduce himself, was visibly flustered with all the attention suddenly focused on him. Iida walked over to him and the two exchanged a few words. Sana heard a low growl coming from the gremlin she had the honor of sitting behind for the rest of the year. If looks could kill, there was no doubt that Midoriya would already be six feet under. Hmm. Sana glanced back and forth, noticing a tension between the two. Do they, perhaps, know each other?

A girl with a brown bob and pink cheeks soon entered the scene, throwing exaggerated punches as she babbled happily with Midoriya and Iida. The trio stood in the doorway of the classroom and spoke for a few moments before-

"If you're just here to make friends, then you can pack up your stuff now." A deadpan, disembodied voice silenced the entire room. Turning slowly, they noticed an extremely sleep-deprived man with long, raven hair lying in a mustard-yellow sleeping bag on the floor.

"They'll really let just anyone in here nowadays, huh?" Sana leaned forward to whisper teasingly beside Blondie's ear. When he turned to snarl at her, she gave him an innocent, close eyed smile.

"Welcome to U.A's hero course." The rugged-looking, ebony-haired man fished out a juice box from the depths of his sleeping bag, downing it in one gulp. Sana was both fascinated and horrified by the sight.

Where was he keeping that this whole time?!

The disheveled-looking man reluctantly climbed to his feet and removed himself from the sleeping bag. "It took eight seconds before you all shut up. That's not gonna work. Time is precious. Rational students would understand that." He assessed the class with hooded, bloodshot eyes. "Hello, I'm Shouta Aizawa. Your teacher." This guy is a Pro? Sana observed him closely, but still couldn't identify the hero. "Right, let's get to it." He rifled through his sleeping bag before pulling out a gym outfit. "Put these on and head outside."

How is he storing so many things in there? Sana was in awe of this man. Is this Hogwarts or U.A?!

[never-not-ever]

So follow up to that recent post.. and trigger warning in advance. It's a little scary knowing how much more thought I've given it. I still believe that I will take myself to the ER before acting on anything but tonight was a realization that nothing has changed, if anything things have just gotten worse.

I mumbled the words "I could actually kill myself" out loud as I got off the highway near my cousins house. I was crying as I realized this because it was just so sad and this was after thinking of my cats and my ex. I was thinking of writing two notes, one to my Nana and one to my ex which is just mainly for my cats.

****Just another reminder*** .. As much as I think about and type about and vent about, I made a promise to my doctor and I don't know what it is with my lovely fucked up attachment shit with her but I'm not going to break that promise. If the thoughts get too loud I'll go to the ER. I'm always so paranoid that someone is going to do a repeat of the past like when the cops showed up at my house... I just need to vent... but if you're not in a good place right now then you might not want to keep reading..

It wasn't until last night that I started thinking more of the bridge. Then on the way home tonight I took the bridge again. I could have taken the tunnel. I actually did take the tunnel. But that was in the end. I took the bridge, driving on the lower deck, the part that I must have driven over 50 times this past summer, memorizing details, making up a plan that I later talked about to my old therapist who told said to me "that's a very public plan".

This bridge is in the next town over from where I live and last night I started thinking what if I walked there in the middle of the night and walked up the "on ramp"... So last night I got off the bridge and immediately went and got back on taking me back into town, taking me on the upper deck, a part of the bridge I'm not that familiar with. The lower deck, I knew where the pull off parts where. My therapist used to live in nearby towns. It was almost like she was trying to persuade me against this plan when she said how there was always a state trooper on the pull off parts and I without hesitation told her that in the month and a half since I've been out I've only seen a trooper once and I think I was driving over that bridge at least once a day. This was back in September.

Last night I realized not only is the ramp going on to the bridge very long but it is also very well lit and the chances of someone noticing a pedestrian walking and calling 911 is very likely. I noticed last night and I double checked again tonight and on the upper deck there is a pull off spot but it's a bit harder to navigate. As much as I fantasize about this bridge I doubt I would ever have the guts to actually do it. The fear of failure.

I've always told my team that I wouldn't kill myself because I couldn't hurt my Nana like that but then my mind just started wandering off thinking of how old she is and how she's probably going to end up passing away soon anyways. How my in and out of the hospital is just more added stress to her. How much of a disappointment and a burden my life has become.

My boys used to bring me so much happiness and joy but lately not so much. They deserve a better home. Someone, or a couple who will always be there for them and won't disappear for weeks or months, wondering if they'll ever see their owners again.

I keep thinking of this one line, imaging others saying this about me and it's true. "She made one mistake at work and it messed her up for the rest of her life".

I know it's so black and white but right now it's my truth. I will never recover from this. I will never forgive myself for this. I had an amazing job and I made a difference and I had a reason for living, my life meant something. I was a part of an amazing, loving, caring family and I lost that.

Now I have no one. Sure there's some. A few family or friends who will quickly get over it.

Ugh I feel like I'm just going down a rabbit hole. Is that even the term? You can't convince a chronically suicidal person their life is worth living and they need to stay. You just keep they safe. So how much longer can I remain in the outside world before I'm no longer safe?

[themultifandomgal]

Adam Ruzek- Single Dad Pt2

"So she actually threw up on you?"

"Yep it was awful. Like I was so embarrassed" Adam chuckles "but what about you. Any bad dates?" Adam and I are sat eating lunch in a really cute café

"Ughh to many to count. There was this one guy I started seeing and we were meant to be going on a date, he had picked me up but on the way to the restaurant I had a phone call to go back home as my mom had been called into work in an emergency. He really kicked off and refused to see me again. Actually refused to take me home. I had to call a taxi"

"What a jerk"

"Tell me about it"

"So what does you mom do then for work?"

"Oh she's a brain surgeon at Chicago Med. Sometimes she will get called in and I have to look after Jack"

"What about your dad? Where's he?"

"He and my mom split up when I was 10. Then she met Jacks dad who's actually in the army so we don't see him all that much"

"Oh I'm sorry"

"No it's ok. I get on with both my dad and Jacks. So does mom, she thought it would be best for us all if everyone got on"

"That's good. I wish I got on with Ally's mum, you know for her sake. I'm lucky I have some good friends"

"I'm sorry that her mom isn't involved, but it's her loss right? And I think it's sweet how your friends love her as if she was their biological family" my phone dings "sorry"

"No problem" I check my phone to see mom has been called in to do a surgery

"I'm so sorry, but I've got to go look after Jack"

"Hey no it's fine don't worry about it"

"I really am sorry" I stand up

"Hey why don't you bring him to mine? we can take them to the park"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes of course" Adam texts me his address

"Ok I'll see you in a bit then"

"But why?"

"Because were going to go to the park with Ally and Adam" I take Jacks coat of the hanger and help him put it on

"But why?"

"Jack please just do as I say"

"Where's mommy gone?"

"She's got to make people better" I finally get Jack out the house and into his car seat

"How long is the drive?"

"Not long" I type in Adams address into maps and start the car while Encanto soundtrack plays, Jacks current obsession

"We don't talk about Bruno" Jack yells making me laugh "no no no"

After a few minutes and a lot of singing we arrive at Adams

"Ok now you have to be a good boy for me ok?"

"Ok YN" I lift him out of his car seat then lock the car. We walk up to the door

"Can I press the bell?" Jack asks pointing to the door bell. I lift him up and he presses the bell. A few seconds later Adam opens up the door

"Hey bud you ready for a play date?" Adam asks Jack

"Yeah. Guess what" before Adam can even breath Jack is already telling him that we listened to the Encanto songs

"You did did you?" Adam looks at me

"Yup. We don't talk about Bruno on repeat. All the way here"

"Well Encanto is Ally's favourite film so shall we put it on?"

"Can we?" Jack asks me

"Yes of course"

"Yay" we walk in and Adam takes us to the living room. Ally is playing with a doll

"Hi Ally how are you?" I ask

"Good" she says shyly with her hair half in a bobble and half out

"I'm guessing your daddy did your hair?" I ask and she nods

"Can you do hair?" She asks me 

"Come here" I say as Adam puts on Disney+ and finds Encanto for the kids. I do a French plait for her

"YN and I will make you some snacks" Adam and I walk into the kitchen

"Sorry this isn't the date we planned" I sigh as Adam passes me a bowl and some crisps

"It's ok. We can always have another date" he shrugs

"So it's not been a complete disaster then?" I ask raising my eyebrows

"Definitely not" we take the snacks over to the kids while they are mesmerised by the TV. Adam and I go back into the kitchen to talk

"How often does Jack get to see his dad?" he asks making a drink

"Maybe every 4 months for a week? This is probably the longest he's been away, it's been about 6 months since he was home"

"Wow. How does your mother cope?"

"She works, a lot. That's why I help out, take Jack out and do things with him"

"Your good with him. Most siblings wouldn't do what you do"

"You think?" I raise my eyebrows.

For the rest of the afternoon Adam and I chat, then take Jack and Ally to the park and we also play games with them before it's time for Jack and I to leave. Jack goes to say bye to Ally while I say bye to Adam.

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished pt 23

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 23/?? Word Count: 1857]

[CW: Drug abuse, addiction, gaslighting]

—————

Two weeks later, Blitzo sent another letter. It was thinner than the first. Barb gave it the same treatment, ‘RETURN TO SENDER’. The next one was even thinner, probably just one page in the envelope.

After she had that one sent back, he started sending postcards. Mostly they were generic landscape images from across the Rings. But not being in an envelope meant she saw snippets of the text on the blank side. Barb let Fizz know that Blitzo was sending mail, but never the content.

She didn’t mean to read any of them, but checking the address meant seeing what was written. There was a theme of ‘sorry, please talk to me, let me explain, I’m sorry, text, call, so sorry,’ in his scribbled handwriting. Knowing their dad’s account of events, her brother’s repeated requests for forgiveness just infuriated Barb.

She saw there were a few that mentioned her and their mom. Blitzo was asking if Fizz knew where they were. You’d know if you’d stuck around, traitor, she thought bitterly as she sent the postcards to be shredded. 

The frequent reminders of Blitzo’s existence kept her off balance. And Fizzarolli was spending more time in Lust. He kept denying any emotional attachment to Asmodeus but Barb saw the difference in how he talked about the Sin.  His absence left her somewhat at loose ends in her downtime.

The other survivors from their circus had scattered; few wanted to stay in Greed with all the established gangs and corruption. Barb, not wanting to be alone constantly, found other demons that shared her interests. One of those interests being drug use was incidental. 

After seven months, the postcards arrived less frequently. Barb didn’t really notice; she had access to stronger stuff and was getting fucked up on a regular basis. Fizz was paying her enough that she could afford it… for now. But as the next pageant got closer, she started missing more days.

At first it didn’t matter too much. Her friend was off being Ozzie’s boy toy. The PR team was finally filtering the mail somewhat. And just before the pageant, Blitzo sent a card saying, ‘I’ll leave you alone Fizz. You know where to find me. I’m sorry.’ That was one less stressor; Barb celebrated with a weekend long bender.

She managed to be clean for a few days before and after the clown pageant. She was able to function as Fizz’s security the whole time. Once again, he won. Once again, Mammon immediately signed him on with a year long contract.

This year though, the king of Greed had some things to talk about concerning Fizzarolli’s assistant. Whisking him behind closed doors for the rigamarole of the contract was the perfect moment to plant seeds of doubt about Barb in his mind.

“Y’know Fizzy, that assistant o’ yours…I know she’s your friend but she’s been slacking big time,” he said as they signed and initialed pages. “I’d hate for someone from your past to take advantage of you, yah?” Mammon had a look of intense concern as he finished his portion of the contract.

“I-I’ll talk to her, Mammon sir.” Fizz was already worried about Barb. He knew she’d gotten hooked on painkillers after the fire. She’d been sober for years but he could see the signs popping up. And if Mammon noticed, things were getting worse.

“Good boy Fizzy! ‘Cause we’re gonna be real busy again and we don’t need c**ts coasting off your success.”

The day after the pageant saw Fizz in Lust again, working with Ozzie on updating the Fizzies. Asmodeus took him out for lunch again. He’d told Mammon before the contest that he’d need the whole day with the winner for their work, preventing his fellow Sin from interrupting anything.

After lunch, Ozzie sprung an offer on Fizz. “I’d like you to work at my lounge club, Froggie. Get you some experience outside the Greed Ring and away from all those creeps.”

Fizz waved a dismissive hand. “Psh, I’ve always had creeps around, it’s not that big a deal. Besides, Barb’s got my back.”

“Yeeeeeeaaaah, about that,” Asmodeus said slowly.

“Oh not you too Oz! Mammon was just bitching to me last night about her!”

“Hey, I’m just saying…she’s having a bad time lately. I’m not gonna pry, but if even Mam has picked up on it? Your girl needs help.” Ozzie cupped Fizz’s cheek. “Look, I know she’s important to you. You’re basically family right?” Fizz nodded. “So I want to help. And moving you both out of Greed is a good way to start.”

Fizz sighed. “Yeah, she’s never really liked it there anyway. I can’t make her do anything though.”

“You know me babe; I ain’t about forcing anyone. Unless she’s in deep shit, too deep to handle or putting herself in danger? you gotta let her make her choices.” He leaned back in their private booth. “I’m serious about working at my lounge though. You’d make a great M.C. Fizzy-frog.”

Fizz agreed to perform at Ozzie’s, with the frequent scheduling starting in a few weeks. He had prior commitments with Mammon to take care of first. Doing nightly shows at the lounge would mean moving to Lust.

Before that, he wanted to talk with Barb. The first chance he got was almost a week later, after they were done at Mammon’s for the day. Fizz had to steal himself to talk to his friend so he went to her apartment after hyping himself up via a phone call with Asmodeus.

Barb, meanwhile, had taken a hit of her current drug of choice as soon as she got home. It was the first big high she’d had in the past two weeks. When Fizz showed up at her door unannounced, she could feel the drugs hitting her system. Although he looked serious and she was trying to focus on what he said, the chemical filter in her veins meant she really only caught a few words. Kind of like those snippets of Blitzo’s postcards.

“Barb, I know you’ve got a problem. You’ve been using drugs again, I can tell. We need to get you help, but we can’t do it here. Asmodeus offered me a gig, I’ll need to move to Lust. Please, come with me. I can’t stand seeing you destroy yourself. We’ll get away from all this shit in Greed. Get you some fucking help.”

Barb tried to string together what he was saying. What truly stuck with her was he was moving. Leaving for Lust and Asmodeus. Away from her. She growled angrily. “Urrrgh! Fine, go fuck off with your royal sugar daddy! I don’t need you!” She pushed him away from her. Her intoxication meant she didn’t have much control of her strength. Her push knocked him against the wall; if he hadn’t hit it with his prosthetic arm, it would have left bruises.

She stomped to the door and yanked it open. “Get the fuck out Fizz. The other imp looked stricken so she pushed him again. This one sent him into the hallway. Barb slammed the door shut, locked it and  put the chain on. He had a spare key, but even his extendable arms would struggle with the chain. She pressed her back against the door and slid down it as Fizz knocked desperately. He kept saying her name but she didn’t respond. She just curled up, silent and crying.

Eventually, he was gone. Her sense of time was completely distorted. Maybe it had been an hour, maybe just a couple minutes. She just wanted to forget about everything again. Fortunately, past Barb had picked up a baggie full of little friends from her dealer that were very good at helping her forget.

A few days later, she’d come down enough to realize she had to go work. That many pill-shaped friends weren’t cheap. But when she got to Mammon’s main offices, her keycard didn’t work. Barb tried multiple times, flipping the card in different directions but she continued to get error sounds. She was ready to punch the scanner when the door opened smoothly.

The shark demon that stepped out towered over Barb. “What do you want?” No politeness, just blunt demanding attitude.

“I want to get to work. Why isn’t my keycard working?” She waved the offending piece of plastic in front of the shark’s snout.

His concentric ringed eyes focused on the card, reading her name. “Barb Buckzo. Yeah, your position’s been…terminated.” He gave her a leering grin and flicked the card. His claw hit with enough force to send it spinning out of her hand and down the street.

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘terminated’? I’m Fizz’s  assistant and bodyguard!”

“Not no more. You haven’t been here for a week. Mr. Fizzarolii and Lord Mammon don’t need some lazy ass coasting on her buddy’s success.” He straightened up to his full height. The shark crossed his arms and continued to match her glaring look. “So you’re out, shoulda got a termination letter in yer mail.” 

Her jaw dropped. Those assholes! “I wanna talk to Fizz. Right now!” She tried to push past the beefy shark, but he outweighed her and Fizz combined. 

“Mr. Fizzarolli is busy. Lord Mammon is free for the next ten minutes if you wanna talk to him.” Barb growled, a rumbling hiss coming from her chest. “Thought so.” The shark went back inside and the door slid shut behind him.

Barb stood there, chest heaving. She had mostly come down from her high and there was no drugged filter between her and her emotions. After a few minutes of glaring at the locked doors, she started hurling nearby rocks at the building. Her aim was still good from all those years in the circus. But those doors were designed to withstand bullets; a valid concern with all the turf wars likely to pop up in this Ring.

All the rocks in Hell wouldn’t do much to the structure. Barb didn’t care; if anything it made her madder. She kept hurling the same rocks over and over, screaming obscenities all the while. Until she threw one that ricocheted back, hitting her directly on her circus brand and knocking her on her butt.

She sat there, dazed. The pain on her forehead belatedly hit and she rubbed the spot to find ichor welling from the scratch. “Fine. FINE, YOU HEAR ME! YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES! HAVE FUN BEING A PAMPERED WHORE FIZZ! YOU’RE JUST LIKE THAT TRAITOR BLITZO!” Barb turned away, rubbing her upper arms with both hands as she tried to keep the anger in the forefront. She flipped of the building as she walked home.

Not that the studio apartment would be home much longer. She was behind on rent and her landlord was ready to kick her out. Checking her mail, she found the termination letter; included was her severance check. Not enough to back pay everything. But enough to find somewhere else. Something cheaper and closer to the drug dens she was visiting more often. 

Within two days, she was gone, ghosting everyone in her life.

—————

<<First <Prev Next>

[liaromancewriter]

Stop The Clock

Premise: After almost six weeks without word from Ethan, Cassie needs her family more than anything.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Max Valentine (OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Format: Prose + Text and pic fic Words: 1,230

A/N: Submission to @choicesmonthlychallenge March prompt "Being outside". I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 24, prompt 2 (in bold). The first part of this fic takes place just a couple of hours before Counting the Minutes, and part 2 takes place the week before Secret's Out.

Part 1: Goodbye My Lover

In the darkest part of the night, Cassie Valentine could pretend there was only now and this moment. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, fallen so deep there was no way back. Not that she wanted out.

Wrapped around her lover, his scent filling her senses, she prayed for time to stop. Anything to slow the approaching dawn of a new day. And the plane that would take Ethan Ramsey away from her for who knew how long.

This should’ve been the beginning. Not the end. But Cassie consoled herself that it was neither.

It was a temporary pause—an interlude—while Ethan did important work in the Amazon. She had fallen in love with a world-renowned physician, which meant sharing him with those who needed him. She couldn’t begrudge that.

She would miss spending stolen moments in his arms. The way he cursed under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. And what did it say about her that she found the sneer on his lips sexier than a smile?

Ethan would come back, thought Cassie. His life was here, his work, his legacy. He would come back to her. She had to believe it. Otherwise, the next few months would be unbearable.

And yet a morose voice inside her whispered that she wasn’t enough. Not if Ethan decided the mission was more important than the potential of what they could be to each other.

Cassie didn’t realize she had drifted off to sleep until a shrill alarm cut through the haze in her head, jolting her awake. She felt Ethan’s chest rise and fall beneath her, and the sound abruptly ended. The silence stretched; time would stand still if she kept her eyes shut. Wouldn’t it?

She felt his gaze and lifted her head off his chest to meet his laser-blue eyes. Her own softened when she caught the tender way he was watching her.

She nestled against him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. He folded her into his arms, his lips brushing the side of her head.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Ethan whispered.

“I don’t want to be anywhere else,” she said. “We have so little time left.”

She tried to hide the disquiet in her voice, but he heard it anyway.

“I’m coming back, Cassie,” he said vehemently. “This isn’t my first engagement with the WHO. I always come back.”

“I’m holding you to that, Dr. Ramsey,” she said, forcing a chuckle. But it was a hollow sound as dread made her throat tighten.

“I should get up; get ready.” He let out a yawn and started to move.

“No, not yet,” she protested. “When we get up, it’s over.”

He stilled as she repeated the words he’d uttered a few weeks ago. Another dawn after an unforgettable night. One they thought would be their last.

“Five more minutes,” he agreed.

His lips grazed her forehead, and he settled back against the headboard. His hand reached for hers, interlacing their fingers. She tilted her head back to keep her green eyes locked on his.

Five turned to ten, and then it was over.

Six weeks later…

Cassie finished a patient consult and exited the exam room, her cheery demeanor deflating as soon as the door closed. Out of habit, she checked her phone for any messages, but the screen remained stubbornly blank except for her wallpaper.

She unlocked the phone and switched to the messaging app, scrolling to Ethan’s name. Her last two messages were still showing as undelivered, and she fumed in frustration. She wondered where he was. If he was okay.

Ever since he left, she had received one measly message to say he’d arrived in Manaus. After that, he’d gone radio silent. Cassie knew he’d received some of her texts but not all. And yet he never replied.

She started to resend her last message when the words Code Blue echoed down the hall and from the tinny speakers in the ceiling. She dropped the phone in the pocket of her scrubs, her feet already sprinting towards the crash cart.

Later that night, Cassie finished drying her hair and got ready for bed. Her bedroom was her sanctuary from the stress of residency. She left work behind when she closed the bedroom door and focused on her well-being.

But today, her mind wouldn’t shut out the noise and the confusion from the debacle in the hospital.

Cassie massaged her temples, willing the headache to dissipate. When that didn’t work, she dabbed a few drops of aromatherapy oil—a gift from her mom—on pressure points and waited.

Sighing when that too failed, she checked the time and knew only one person could help her. And if he griped at being woken up in the middle of the night? Well, that’s what Twin Code was for.

Part 2: Make Me Better

A week later, Cassie walked down the jetway and into the terminal of Nice Airport, biting back yawns after a long flight. She switched on her phone, silently cursing at the list of messages on the Roomies group chat, but nothing from Ethan.

As she crossed the concourse after clearing Customs, she reminded herself that this week was for her family. If Ethan Ramsey couldn’t be bothered to send even a smoke signal, he didn’t deserve a second of her time.

Of course, words were cheap, she thought as she waited for the carousel to spit out her bags. She wanted to put Ethan out of her mind, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

Cassie wheeled her bags towards the exit, her eyes scanning the sea of strangers until she saw Max standing to the side. He was looking right at her, a familiar and welcome smile on his lips. And then she ran towards him, uncaring about who was in her way.

She didn’t realize how much she missed him and her family until she burst into tears when he hugged her.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked in a concerned tone as she buried her face into his shirt, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

“I’m fine,” she lied, tears soaking his cotton tee shirt.

She pulled away and wiped her face with shaking hands. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how much I was holding inside until I saw you.”

“Clearly!”

She giggled and swatted his arm playfully when he rolled his eyes dramatically

He grabbed the trolley handle, pushed it down to release the brake and started walking her toward the exit.

“Luckily, we’ll be stuck inside a car for the next forty-five minutes or so,” he said, pulling on his shades against the bright Mediterranean sun. “And guess what, scout? There’s a ton of jazz music in your future unless you tell me exactly what’s wrong. And don’t hold anything back!”

As she settled into the passenger side of the red convertible—so typical of Max—she knew she had made the right decision coming on this family trip.

For the next few days, she would leave Edenbrook and Boston behind and focus on being a good daughter and the best sister she knew how to be. No more wallowing in the past.

She would take it one day at a time, and that was that.

Part 3: Time Of Our Lives

-----------------

All Fics & Edits: @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey

[anneimaginesundertale]

Some creep flirts with SO, with Grillby, please?

You get a little Mobtale Grillby this month, if that's all right with you. He's UT Grillby but also a little mobsterish. I think you'll like him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You'd promised Grillby that you would stay out of the way today. He normally didn't want you around at all when he had certain guests in the place, but today you didn't have anywhere else to go. He'd put you in one of his spare rooms and told you to stay put. You'd done a good job for a while, but now you were bored. And hungry. Surely you could sneak to the kitchen and get a snack without disturbing the business going on.

Carefully, you inched the door open and tiptoed up the hall. You could hear voices from the back room. You recognized Grillby's crackles and pops, the low rumble of Don Asgore, and a few other voices as well. The kitchen door was just before the one to the back room. As long as you got through it without drawing attention, you would be--

"Hang on, boss," an unfamiliar voice drawled, "I think we got a little eavesdropper out in da hall. Lemme go check, huh?"

You froze. The backroom door swung open and a stocky man in a greasy suit stepped out. "Knew it," he smirked. "We got a little bird just sittin' out here, listenin' to private conversations."

Before you could stop him, he grabbed you by the arm. "Didn't nobody ever tell ya not ta snoop, little bird? You're gonna hafta pay a price for this." His smirk widened. "But I might be willin' ta make it an easy price, since yer so cute. Howzabout ya gimme a good kiss an' I'll letcha get back ta wherever ya came from, huh? Gimme a kiss."

"No!" you cried, struggling against him. "Get off me!"

You heard a chair clatter to the floor and then saw a fiery hand descend on your attacker. Grillby pulled the man off you and lifted him off the floor. "She is mine," he said, and his voice was a deep rumble. You could feel the heat coming off him in waves.

The man who had attacked you quavered, "B...but she was eavesdroppin'!"

"She is mine," Grillby repeated. "You have no right to touch her."

In the back room, someone shouted, "Get ya mitts off him! Ya can't manhandle my guys like that, ya big firecracker!"

Grillby whirled, still holding the goon. "Get out," he snapped. "This meeting is over. You are no longer welcome in my business."

"We ain't done yet!"

"I say you are! Take your filth and get out!" He tossed the goon onto the hallway floor. "Don Asgore, see they leave immediately. I must take care of my own."

With that, he turned to you. He scooped you into his arms, his flames only a gentle warmth against your skin, and carried you into the kitchen. "Did he hurt you, beloved?" he asked, tracing the spot where the man's fingers had been on your arm.

"I-I'm all right," you said shakily. "I'm sorry I messed things up for you. I wasn't eavesdropping. I meant to come in here. I wasn't listening at all. I'm sorry. I just got hungry..."

"You haven't messed anything up," Grillby said. "They were looking for a reason to end things. Now it's ended on our terms."

"You're sure? This won't cause more trouble for you, will it?"

"No. It will be fine." He held you close against his chest. "I only wish you had not had to be part of it." He pressed a kiss to your temple.

"I'm glad you were here to protect me," you said, snuggling closer to him.

"I always will be," he promised.

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Kalon | Pt. 3

Beauty that is more than skin-deep.

Jimin x staff!reader

Summary : you have been working at hybe for/with BTS for a few years and have become great friends with them. Suddenly Jimin starts acting different with you and you can‘t help but get upset because you secretly have a crush on him:(

Genre/Tropes : angst, jealousy, friends to lovers (more like idiots to lovers tho), painful blindness of the two…

Word count : ~1.7K

A/N : Hii! Hope you enjoy the third part<3

Series masterlist<3

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Preparing for a comeback was never an easy task. New choreographies to master, stage planning, outfit preparations, media coverage and much more. You had just gotten a raise to the third manager in command which meant that most of your work was to do with the boys, checking choreographies for corrections to match the stage, making sure outfits for each song were impeccable but also comfortable for the boys.

Today the team focused on the new choreos. It has been almost a full month since they started the choreo-focus.

You had spent 9 pause-less hours in the practice room with the boys and a few instructors. For now, tucked away at a far corner in the studio, there was nothing for you to see and comment on, so you had your computer with you, completing documents that were sent to you by the superiors.

Once in a while, after finishing sentences you’d lift your head to observe the boys and their state. Just as you looked up, instructors gave them a little break, seeing as they could barely breathe. You quickly jumped out of your seat on the ground and gathered 7 bottles from a nearby table to pass around.

Approaching the 7 sweaty bodies that laid on the ground a compassionate smile covered your features.

“Okay now everyone sit up and have some water” you called out passing each of them a bottle “and I repeat sit up… I don’t need anyone chocking on water… again…Jin I’m talking to you, you big baby” you shot daggers at your best friend catching his laying form about to pour water into his mouth.

One last bottle is left in your hand as you ascend to Jimin.

He’s been silent lately and no one knew why.

Even Taehyung and Jungkook asked you if you might have a clue what was wrong with their hyung, but you as well as them held no knowledge over the fact.

He was sitting up straight, legs crossed, head narrowed down. “Have some water Jiminie” you put the water in front of him, but he didn’t move a muscle. “Yah Jimin! Drink up while you still can, this is gonna be our last break for a while” Hobi scolded the younger boy.

“I’m not thirsty” he answered in an uninterested tone.

You were about to dispute with him, but an alarm going off took everyone’s attention.

“Time to get back to work” Namjoon signed and handed you his bottle with a quick nod to say ‘thanks’. You return his smile with one of your own before collecting the other bottles out of their way and stacking them next to the wall.

When the music starts again you scan over the seven boys, your eyes unintentionally lingering on one particular boy standing in the front of the set-up.

Oh how much you wished you could enter his head and see what was it that weighed him down, you wished you could solve all his problems only to see his smile beaming at you once again… you hadn’t realized how much his smiles, the ones that left you red as a beet, affected the quality of your daily life, until you lost the privilege of getting multiple through the day…

> 

The clock strikes 9 PM when your older colleagues bid you farewell and leave the almost dark building. You stay behind wanting to finish up a few documents so you’d have all of tomorrow to focus on concert outfits. For you fittings were the hardest part. Stylists would put together wonderful outfits, but without one thought of how anyone is supposed to move around, let alone perform in them. That job was left to you as well as a few older staff members with more experience.

“UGH!” you let out a loud sign resting your head at the wall behind you, closing your eyes to settle the stinging sensation in them from not blinking, “finally, time to go home” you close the laptop securing it in your backpack and locking up the room.

You turn to leave but a light at the end of the hall catches your curiosity. You walk towards the light peeking inside the room.

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. The boy was in a dark grey top that you soon realized was actually a light grey top completely drenched in his sweat.

His pale skin shone off the mirror capturing your gaze as it slipped to his face. Wet hair stuck to the pale skin, lips a mix of grey and red, where he must have bit it out of frustration, eye circles prominent even from afar.

‘Is he insane?!’ you thought to yourself becoming aware of all the signs that pointed to a conclusion that he was once again overworking himself.

“Jimin!” you shout over the music coming into the room to give him a piece of your mind. Worry now completely radiating off of you as you stood closer to him, the details even more pronounced to your vision now.

He doesn’t seem to mind your voice as he pays you no attention, eyes still locked on his fluid form in the mirror.

“JIMIN!” you try again, straining your voice. Now your worry becomes irritation as he voluntarily ignores you once again.

You walk over to the stereo and pause the music, and look up at him. He’s storming over to you, his face stone cold which makes you want to curl into yourself but this isn’t your first rodeo with one of the boys overworking themselves, so you know that it’s not always a pretty view.

“What the hell are you doing?” his sharp voice cuts you. He was so close to you making you nervous for all the reasons that did not matter right now. You recover fast enough from your daze.

“Probably saving your life considering the way you look… Have you seen yourself in the mirror recently?” you try to lighten the mood, but you come to regret it soon enough.

“Have you?” Jimins eyes scan you up and down and you can physically feel yourself become smaller in his scrutinizing gaze. The lighthearted smile that just adorned your face now gone completely without a trace, your eyes big, insecurities hogging your clear mind into the darkness again. You wrap your arms around your torso as you become painfully aware of the way you look. Your frumpy giant form next to Jimin’s angled toned body seems comical making you feel like a total joke.

You lower your gaze not wanting him to see your eyes that were beginning to moisten and Jimin’s gaze immediately softens seeing your reaction.

Jimin was beating himself up inside. Seeing your face fall, your warmth retreating from him he immediately knew of the monumental mistake that he had just made. He knew that what he said was entirely wrong and not even true in the slightest. He was just so hurt the day he became aware of the feelings that you shared with his hyung and decided that instead of being sad about it he’ll be mad at the whole wide world.

That was in no way a better decision, but for a while being mad at the two of you helped him more than crying into his pillow out of frustration every other day and waking up with a headache.

However the hurricane of emotions that he felt seeing you so close to him messed up his brain. It was just the effect you had on his poor heart that still yearned after you.

With you so close he only wanted to bring you into his embrace like he used to and squeeze you tightly till you couldn’t stop laughing. Yet he knew that these dreams of his were in ruins as you belonged to another and he couldn’t let himself act out his feelings so instead he masked it with hatred and fury.

“Just… don’t hurt yourself…” you clamer out, eyes never again meeting his as you retreat out of the room.

Jimin lifts his hand to stop you, his whole body burning with embarrassment that he said that to you that he made you feel sad, but you don’t notice him.

Jimin is left alone in the room, his hand still up, reaching for you who is no longer present. He stays frozen in that position overthinking everything that just happened, beating himself up for being such an idiot.

“No wonder she likes Seokjin, not me… there’s nothing to like about me.” he glances at his slouched void form in the mirror, before resuming the music, determined to dance until he can no longer lift his feet as punishment…

The moment you step out of the room your tears cascade down your warm cheeks and a shaky cry escapes your lips. You cover your face your palms crying into them with pain seeping through you.

You had always had insecurities about the way you looked, but being with BTS had helped so much, considering that the boys were all about self-love and never said anything hurtful your way.

Jimin’s comment released the dark monster inside your head.

You did look ridiculous, how could you even let yourself think that he could possibly ever like you back, when you looked like ‘this’. You should apologize to him for having to be so close to someone so ugly…

But if Jimin thought you were disgusting the rest of the boys definitely did too… maybe they just haven’t blurted something out in your earshot.

You took your hand away from your face deciding that you’d better leave before you can run into Jimin again. Just then you notice your reflection in the mirror. It’s a confirmation of all the thoughts you had before. The girl standing in front of you had a red wet face, budging stomach in pants with a cropped sweater that made her look like a shapeless whale. Jimin’s voice echoed in your head again.

‘Have you?’

You snapped your eyes away and hurried out of the building, leaving droplets of fresh tears all the way home.

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