#i initially said no but their reaction is rubbing me the wrong way

[vultursvolans]

me: excited for this small trip with my friends

work: hey btw can you come back to work the day after you land, even though it’s your scheduled day off, and help us transition with this big change that we just found out about today. the correct answer is yes btw

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. TOUCH

Just back into it, and let it touch

JJK MEN & THEIR REACTIONS TO YOU USING THEIR CROTCH TO SHOW OFF YOUR NAILS

ft. kashimo hajime, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, & takuma ino.

cw: modern au (?), suggestive content (ofc) ooc characters(?), reader being a little shit, etc.

i’ve always found this tiktok trend adorable, and thought it would be nice to write hcs on with them. these are unedited so excuse typos and other mistakes. i might do more later.

KASHIMO HAJIME.

the nail designs you chose were cute, but a little cheesy. a simple cyan base with purple lighting bolts on each ring finger.

you came back from the shop to spot kashimo resting on your couch, clearly tired from either fighting a curse or general working out. you tapped him, showcasing your nails the moment you got his attention. hajime would only give you a small smirk, leaning his head back again to rest.

the idea would then pop into your head, softly declaring you needed to take a picture to show your friend. he didn’t care enough to respond.

but, that quickly changed when you sat beside him, resting your hand right on his crotch.

what are you doing?

you shushed him a bit, declaring his white pants were a perfect background. a plausible excuse, one that he believed less and less when he realized you were massaging him through his pants.

he allowed it to go on for a moment before he snatched your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

don’t start something you can’t finish, [y/n].

and well, you spent the rest of that evening facing the consequences of your actions. you never did send that picture.

GOJO SATORU.

probably asked you to get his tip color. you refused, much to his dismay.

you settled on a pretty blue and white design, curtesy of his eyes and hair. you sent a picture of it to him while in the shop; your lover hearting the image instantly.

on the way home, you were scrolling through your tiktok feed and came across the trend. a cheshire like grin covered your features soon after.

making it home, gojo wasn’t busy with anything, simply sitting on the couch and watching some random show. he greeted you and attempted to get touchy, only for you to declare you had to take a picture of your nails first.

just use the one you sent me?

no, baby, i wanna use a different one.

although confused, the man shrugged a bit, focus turning back to the tv. you sat on the couch beside him, humming as your phone hovered above your hand that rested on your thigh. taking a quick glance to assure he wasn’t looking, you reached over, placing your hand right on his crotch.

gojo noticed you instantly, eyes falling from the tv screen and over to your hand, eyebrows pinched close. he said nothing however, simply watching you closely. the moment you began to rub him, however, he was adjusting his hips eyes lifting to yours, adoring an are you serious? expression.

what’s wrong? you tried to play dumb, all while your hand still moved, not so secretly anymore. gojo would only grin at you, pretty dimples exposed, turning back to the tv.

nothing.

in that moment his hand reached over to your bare thigh, gently tapping it; fingers stroking the inside of them.

this had now became a game of who would crack first.

and much to your dismay, you always did.

GETO SUGURU.

your choice of design was a black base with his initials on each ring finger. when sending a picture to the man he complimented them, and was clearly happy his name was on your fingers.

you had been planning to do the trend on him the moment you saw it, booking an appointment the next day. you just wanted to see his reaction, to see if your normally calm and collected boyfriend would react differently.

you were basically rushing into the house the moment you locked your car, entering to spot him on the couch reading a book. you two greeted each other with a soft kiss the moment you walked over.

you really like my nails, suguru?

mhm.

lemme show gojo. you hummed, pulling your phone from your pocket. you bit the inside of your cheek, reaching over and planting your hand right on his crotch. you felt his eyes on you for a moment before they drifted back to his book. which, frustrated you.

and so, you adjusted your hand, a false mumble of needing a better angle exiting you. except the adjusting didn’t stop, seeing as you began to gradually rub your palm up and down his crotch.

you jumped a bit as he shut his book closed, grabbing your wrist and pushing it against his hardening length even more.

now, you deal with it? understand?

NANAMI KENTO.

much to nanami’s embarrassment, you used his tip color. he tried to talk you out of it, but it happened. how they color matched it was above him. and why you did such a thing was above him as well. but, he did have to admit the nails were still pretty.

when you got home the man was busy with some paperwork at his desk, grumbling to himself every once in a while. you walked over with a gentle smile, watching his tense shoulders fall the moment you made your presence known.

you then showed off your nails, nanami simply shaking his head with a smile.

you got a bit needy the moment his eyes turned back to his desk however, biting the inside of your cheek before a brilliant idea popped into your mind. you find a chair beside his desk, scooting a bit close to his own. which wasn’t suspicious, you did that often.

what was suspicious was you reaching over, placing your hand onto his crotch.

[y/n]…

just trynna get a good picture. your pants are the perfect color. the excuse left you quickly, hearing the man sigh softly to himself but allowing your hand to remain there.

that was until, you began to carefully slide your hand up and down his crotch— back and forth. nanami didn’t left it go on for long before he was grabbing you by the forearm, pulling you up from your chair and over to his lap.

oh, ken, your paperwork..

that can wait. can’t ignore you when you’re being so damn needy..

TAKUMA INO.

to ino’s surprise, you somehow got your nail lady to carefully draw his masked face on your ring finger. the moment you sent the picture he was amazed and very happy. something you found adorable.

so of course you decided to toy with him.

coming home you spotted the man not really doing anything, simply resting on the couch. he smiled up at you, eyes following you as you walked over to sit beside him. his arm came to wrap around you, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment; simply watching tv.

until you swore softly, pulling your phone from your pocket. gotta take a picture for a friend.. you would mumble, something ino barely acknowledged.

the moment your hand was on his crotch, however, his eyes fell from the tv quickly, staring down at your hand.

uh, y/n…

sorry baby, just gotta use your pants. you claimed, the man muttering nervous ok, going completely still— clearly not wanting to mess up your photo. you smiled at this, nearly feeling bad for what you were about to do to him.

slowly you carried your palm up and down his crotch, feeling the hand on your hip twitch. continuing the facade, you tilted your phone every so often, attempting to find the correct position; all while poor ino attempted to calm his rising hard on. he tried so hard too.

just as you felt his hard length through his sweats, you snapped a photo, rising from the couch— placing a chaste kiss to his cheek on the way.

thanks baby, imma take a quick shower.

needless to say, ino was a bit confused and disappointed, only able to give you a small nod— watching you walk away. ignorant to the fact you were holding in your laughter.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

three times hasan faked it + 1 time he didn’t have to

more hasan here

hasan is good at faking many things.

look, he’s not one for bragging-really, he isn’t. it’s just part of his charm, of his appeal, another tick of good things about him-could be an actor if this streaming job ever falls through, if he ever gets sick of politics and dumb jokes.

at least, he likes to believe he is.

one

“i fucking hate this movie, dude.”

it’s obvious by the way his eyes have been glued to the screen and how he hasn’t said much that he’s lying. really, the only way you knew he was here was by the constant rubbing of the pad of his thumb over your hand, where it traveled and slowly creeped, two fingers at a time over your spine until it reached the back of your neck where his hand rested against yours, a gentle squeeze there, as if he’s saying: i’m here

“mhm,” you counter, eyes on the screen, “it’s obvious you hate it by how quiet you’ve been this entire time.”

he rolls his eyes but his hands stay constant:

“whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “this is the best part. hold on.”

he fucking hated this movie. his eyes were close to rolling out of his head but as he was about to make a joke, to say how dumb this was, he saw how excited you were, how wide eyed and excited you were over tbis movie and naturally, he had to love the movie as well.

two

“boo!”

hasan is many things, but at the very top of the list with your initials next to it, it’s a scaredy cat

he’s not proud of it.

the smile on his face gives him away, doesn’t give him enough time to fake a reaction, to play up being terrified:

“nothing?” your shoulders slump, “i didn’t scare you at all?”

look, he’d beat up anyone who even implied this, knows how cliche it is but the world is less scary with you by his side-isn’t on edge like before, isn’t always waiting for the other foot to drop.

“you didn’t even give me a chance to react!”

his giggle is loud as he reaches over to elbow you.

“reacting is your whole ass job!” you argue, moving out of the way as he tries to pull you close and plant a kiss on your forehead like he always does when you arrive at his side.

your face is bright red as he finally pulls you in close, another kiss to your cheek-

“cmon,” he giggles, “give me another chance.”

instead, you reach up, messing up his hair: “your time is coming.”

three

“i’m not much of a dancer.”

his voice is low as he drawls on, but as you stand with

“our kitchen would say differently,” you shush him, “come on.”

he groans, knows there’s no way he’ll get out of this, better to just shut up and follow what you say-you haven’t led him astray before.

“i’m going to embarrass you,” he all but whispers as he wraps his arms around your core, as you rest your head against his chest, “i’m going to step on your feet and it’s going to be horribly embarrassing.”

“shh.”

he leads, a gentle box as he’s careful to not step on your toes, grumbling and trying to act like he hates it-grateful you can’t see the pink across his face.

+ 1

“what is this?”

his giggle gives him away, proves he’s actually enjoying this.

“it’s a surprise, hasan.” you tsk at him, your hands shield over this eyes so all he can see is dark in front of him, “just-“

you pause, a sigh before kicking your lips:

“listen,” you counter, “do you trust me?”

there’s weight there, where he could play dumb or say the wrong thing and act like he doesn’t trust you-

“yes.” he says instantly, before he can even overthink it, his hands over yours as you guide him

“good,” you settle on, can hear your feet behind him as he smirks, his hands in front of him as he tries to make out a house he once knew by heart. “now shut up, and act like you’re enjoying this.”

you can’t see it as he rolls his eyes, as he tries to play up this act of someone who hates everything, hates this.

“okay, don’t open your eyes.”

there’s struggle for a second as one hand drops, he can tell by the difference in the lightning that you flicked a light on-

“okay. one, two-“

he can hear the deep breath you take as your hands drop. the second he can’t feel you anymore his hands scamper in the air, unsatisfied until they come back into contact with your hand, until his fingers are laced into your hand.

i’m the kitchen now lays half deflated balloons, a half hanging up happy birthday banner-

“it’s not great,” you sigh at your side, “I’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i promise. the store-“

“hey.”

your head snaps up when you hear his voice, when his forefinger connects with your chin to lift it up so it strains, when you can finally make eye contact with him.

“this is perfect-“

“hasan,” you sigh, “you lie so badly-“

“i’ve literally never lied in my life,” he laughs, “this is perfect.”

you don’t believe him until he pulls you close to him, when your belly collided with the side of his legs, his hand outstretched as he points out the little things you spent all the time doing-

“this is perfect,” he insists, the smile never leaving his side, “you’re perfect.”

pink raises on your face as you shake it: “cliche.”

“shut up.”

he pulls you in for a final kiss.

[unbearableblog]

Messages

Chapter 1

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences. Word count ~2,2k Warnings 18+, cursing, angst A/N  I have no beef (no pun intended) with Chicago. Everything I wrote is based on the feeling I got from the show and what I read about its history. I really hope you like this chapter as much as the first one. I know it's been a long time! I had a job, had health issues, actually went to Michelin restaurant and a bunch of other things. You're always welcome to share your thoughts.

Chapter 2

"Carm, I don't know about this..." you say and take a step back, shaking your head.

"Just try it," he says, seeing your hesitation. "It's okay, I got 'u."

Skeptically, you slowly take the knife and start chopping the greens in a "chef" way, the one he showed you just a second ago. Little by little, you do it. You barely breathe as the knife slices through freely and efficiently, but controlled enough to keep your fingers safe.

“Perfect, chef”

You turn to see Carmen's reaction. He is looking at the food, smiling, and then softly chuckles and turns to you. There is nothing but love in his eyes. Nothing but you.

"What do you mean it's not from him?" your sister asks with confusion.

"I don't know! It's not from fucking Carmen!" you yell while standing in her living room. The gift is right beside you, carefully placed on the round white coffee table in front of the couch.

"Who's it from then?" she asks just as calmly, almost chuckling.

"Another chef?" you use your arms dramatically to get your point across, frustrated at her not understanding.

"What chef? Girl, how many-"

"It's not from fucking Carm! Fuck! I don't know what to do!" you plop on the couch, hands covering your face.

Madeline sits down beside you. "What's going on? So what? You got some cinnamon buns, what's the big deal?"

"Because they're not from Carmen, that's the deal!" your head falls onto her shoulder, and she wraps you in her arms, rubbing your back.

"Tell me what's wrong."

You let your initial frustration out with the yelling, and the only thing left was sadness. Confusion. Disappointment.

"They're not from him. He's ignoring me."

"Ahhh, I see. And who are they really from?" she keeps moving her hand in circles while holding you, and that makes you feel much safer. You relax more and more.

"I went to the bakery today, remember? His old friend- or whatever they were- was the guy to teach Marcus."

"And why is he sending you gifts?" her voice sounds above you.

It's hard to think. You felt so much, and now your mind is drowsy. "I told him how much I love cinnamon buns. I guess it's just a courtesy."

"Wrapped with a red silk ribbon? And a written note? Yeah, nice courtesy.." she smirks at you.

"Stop," - she doesn't, "Stop!" you whine. "It can't be like that."

"Yeah? And what's stoppin' it?"

"I'm literally dating his friend."

"Are you though? You said it wasn't much of dating anymore. Does he know that?"

Fuck.

"Uhh..."

"Well, that's what I'm talking 'bout. The guy saw the chance and shot his shot. At least you know he cares about you. Look at that sugar! He must have used half the bakery's stash for that, I'll tell you that."

You laugh.

"No, seriously, don't eat them all in one sitting, I can feel my blood sugar rising from here."

You felt something else instead - hunger. You looked at Madeline and back at the box a couple of times and then reached for it. You took one bun for yourself and gave the other one to her. Both of you appreciated the beauty in your hands, and after a sigh, took a bite of heaven.

It was divine.

"Holy shit, Liv. His hands are a miracle."

But you knew that - you saw them with your own eyes.

Chicago is cold. So fucking cold. It wasn't unusual for you - after all, you grew up in Europe, but here it felt different. The streets felt blue and lonely as if Carmen was the only person who lived there. But again, it's not like you had much time to discover the city when all you did was related to Carmen. Your college had a very lenient schedule, meaning you had classes occasionally, and the remaining assignments you did at The Beef. Chicago is mostly a blue-collar town, and witnessing struggling people was not unusual. A sneaking thought would sometimes slither into your head, making you wonder if you would ever live here if it wasn't for Carmen. The atmosphere made you depressed. The Beef made you forget. All the bickering, no matter how much it sucked, involved people, and that meant that at least somewhere you would be noticed.

You loved Carmen so much, and seeing him struggle was your hell. So you gave up everything for him. Your own ambition went on the backburn - how could you when his brother just died? How could you when he had a whole business to run? When he would grasp his chest and wince, when he would look at you so lovingly, when your baby was in pain, everything was worth it.

You would do anything for him.

And then The Beef was becoming The Bear and you for sure had to shut up. Carmen had so much on his plate, and if only you held out for a little while until it opened, and then just a little more until you got it up and running and gave the money back to Uncle. Maybe then you could think about what you actually want and where to go with Carmen, how you want your relationship to grow, and where you want to travel. Then it would all be okay.

The phone is in your hand as you count the time in Chicago. It's 7 hours behind, and here it's almost afternoon, so it should be fine. You click on Carmen's number and hit "call".

Ring.

Ring.

Ri-

"Hi, Liv. How's Copenhagen?" it is so nice to hear his voice. Ugh, you miss him.

"Uhh, it's a lot. It's soo beautiful here, so much warmer too. It’s so much different from Chicago, I really needed this. I wish you were here.

"Listen, I- ...no, Cousin, I said-... no-no-no..." you listen closely and can hear Richie yelling back something about cold. Or mold? "I told you not to touch it!"

"I'm sorry, I gotta go. Call you sometime," he hangs up.

You silently put the phone on the table.

"Have you talked to Carmy?" you blurt out, continuing the walk across the water like that question was not divided into a thousand different statements.

You promised Marcus to show him the city. He, in turn, encouraged you to try even more pastry, They were good, delicious, even, but your mind kept going back to what you had earlier.

"Yeah. He was super stoked that I loved the boat. Said he didn' doubt it. And that he couldn't find the cat either-"

Fucking asshole.

"- so don't feel down, it's probably somewhere out there, stealing the food in the city," he smiles at the thought, probably imagining a sneaky cat grabbing a fish at the market while the owner turned away.

"Oh. Good to know." You are boiling with anger. At this point, it's starting to get to you. You're tired of caring. Carmen made his decision.

You decide to forget about him and focus on the peaceful water around you, beautiful architecture and so many people. That's the one thing you always loved - you never knew who you would meet or what you could learn from a stranger. Copenhagen was so different from Chicago. That place, maybe the Beef mainly, sucked you in and the rest of the world didn't matter. Here, otherwise. It felt.. open. This place felt enough as it is, but it somehow reminded you of the rest of the world too, encouraged you, moved you. You would never admit it, but you felt so free. What was the next thing you would do? Next place you could go? Why weren't you thinking about that in Chicago? You were still so young...

Was it all a mistake?

The next sleepless night you decided to join Marcus again. You walked in and plopped your bag on a chair. Luca was already quick on his feet, of course.

It’s 5 AM, how is he so productive?

After short greetings, the three of you continued with business.

You watched them talk about types of dough, what flavors go together best, and the secrets of the art of cooking, and then it was time for Marcus to put his skills into practice. It was always a little nerve-racking, as if it was you trying.

After a while, Marcus went outside to call his mom and Luca took the time to clean up. This was your chance.

“Hey…” you began.

How do you even ask it? Thank you for the orgasm-inducing pastry? Did you mean to flirt with your friend’s girlfriend?

“Yeah, Liv,” he’s turned away from you, but you can hear the smile in his voice. God, his accent.

“Thank you,” you decided to go with simplicity.

“You’re welcome. Was it enough?”

An “oh god, yes” came out involuntarily.

“Good”. He smiled pridefully again.

You began to understand that Luca is not a man of many words.

He stopped cleaning the surface adjacent to the wall, and turned towards the table in the middle of the room, the one they practiced on. Luca’s mind seemed busy for a moment.

“Do you wanna try?” he looked up expectantly.

“Oh, no-” you immediately answered. All that time you spent cooking with Carmen didn’t really amount to a lot, and even Marcus was struggling with these desserts, you wouldn’t wanna -

“Why not? Marcus said you were an honorary chef. I’d like to see your skills.”

“Here,” Luca said assertively and handed you the piping bag. You smiled awkwardly and shook your head making up an excuse, which was pointless because he followed up with an assertive “take it”, which you couldn’t resist. Oh god.

Hesitantly, you took the hefty piping bag in your hands and attempted to copy the swirl nearby.

A minute later you took a step back to judge your work. It didn’t look anything like his. Luca came a little closer to see better.

“Softer,” he corrects after a short inspection. You hunch over the table to try your luck again.

“No, like this,” he suddenly placed his palm entirely over yours and leaned closer so that his shoulder controlled yours. Your breath hitched. Only Carmen gets this close.

His body guiding yours seemed to work, and you got the exact amount of pressure and curve needed to pipe the filling.

“Flawless, chef,” and you see that his eyes aren’t on pastry anymore. You notice up close how warm-toned his skin is. Are those.. freckles?

Beat.

The high-pitched screech of the door made you jump and rapidly step out of Luca’s half-hug. He remained as he was, only placing his hand on the counter now.

“Everything alright?” The question surprised you but it turned out it wasn't for you.

“Yeah, mama’s good”, Marcus responded lightly. “I think we can go now tho. Thank you so much for the lesson.”

His eyes caught the imperfect practice rounds, which surely couldn't belong to a seasoned chef.

“You tried these when I was out?”

“Yeah, Liv did it”

You turned to Luca with a face. You kinda had no choice.

“Liv!” he beamed. “I’ve been telling you to try something! I can't believe I missed it. Man, you don’t know how long I’ve been tryna get her to work on pastry, she loves’em so much! Denmark is truly a land of wonders, I’ll tell ya” Luca openly laughed. For such an enigma like him, you took that as a sign that he was warming up to both of you.

You both went out to the fresh air and then headed home. Madeline was out so you were free to enjoy a cup of tea in a soft chair by yourself. As the hot water left a burn on your tongue, you reflected on the past days.

Moments like these were rather rare with Carm when he was slow, quiet and gentle. They were especially rare now when both of you were so busy. You knew he wasn’t always this patient with chefs. Somehow Luca’s felt different.

And then a thought struck you.

You didn’t see him coach Marcus like that.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

🏷️Tag list (tagged everyone in the comments) @l0nalol @soursopsista @swedesfics @nervousnerdwitch @marymustdie @pinktrappy @mrs-reeves-17 @bxtchopolis @smoooore @miley1442111 @awkwardalie @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @m1dnightsnackz @grxnde-dwt @custarrds @cinnamongirlblogs @melancholicmelanin @yellowfielde @althea-tavalas

[lucydixon]

Out of Your League

Y'all. This one's got it all. Angst, Fluff, Smut. This was a request that spiralled into something that has consumed my thoughts all day.

Summary: Øystein is being a dick during practice and Pelle starts to think that you deserve someone better than him. You rush over there to talk to him, and it turns into something different entirely.

Warning: NSFW, Unprotected P in V

When you first met Pelle, Euronymous had a little bit of a crush on you and had always been bitter that you hadn’t given him the time of day and were instead enamoured by his strange bandmate, regardless of his off-putting hobbies and demeanor. Once you and Pelle have been dating for a few months and things start looking a little serious, he starts making snide remarks when you’re not around. 

“That girl is so far out of your league, it’s not even fucking funny,” Euronymous muttered at the tail end of practice one afternoon.

Pelle had asked if you could come (more like told them that you were coming) to their next gig to hang out backstage. Hellhammer and Necrobutcher had both nodded immediately, but Euronymous couldn’t help but comment. 

“I know.” Pelle shrugged, looking unbothered for the most part. He even had a faint smile on his lips. 

“I mean seriously.” He straightened, a little annoyed by the singer's lack of reaction. “Where do you think that’s going to go? You think she’s going to want to bring you home to her parents? That she’ll marry you or something?” 

Pelle hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He’d just been enjoying your time together. Sure, he asked himself why you bothered with him, pretty often in fact, but having you around was reassuring in a way that he didn’t fully understand. 

Euronymous could see the moment that Pelle had faltered and latched onto it. 

“Has she seen your arms?” He’d asked, ignoring the looks of disbelief from his other bandmates. “What do you think is going to happen when she sees that mess, huh?” 

Pelle subconsciously started rubbing his arms through the sleeves of his flannel, spiralling inside his head. 

“She deserves better.” 

“Øystein.” Jorn finally interjected, shooting him a look of disappointed anger. “What the hell’s wrong with you, man. Leave him alone.” 

“I’m just saying.” Euronymous held his hands up in mock surrender and turned his attention back to his instrument, smirking softly to himself. 

Pelle was supposed to call you after practice. At least, that’s what he’d told you when you’d gone home the night before. He’d meant it too. 

But now, all he could think about was what Euronymous had said. 

He went straight to his room and fell into his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t outright shown you his arms. He wore long sleeves around you in an effort to hide the scars marring them, but you’d seen them. Of course you had. Sometimes his sleeves rode up and you’d catch a glimpse. The first time, it had felt like your heart had stopped in your chest. You hadn’t commented on it, not wanting to upset him. You’d figured that he’d tell you about them when he was ready. 

It would probably be easier if he just left you alone and let you get on with your life. You didn’t need all the dark things inside of him. He felt selfish for ever thinking that it would be okay. 

When Pelle didn’t call, you weren’t all that worried initially. 

Practice might’ve run late, or maybe he was hanging out with the rest of the band, and calling you had slipped his mind. 

You sat by the phone all afternoon, trying not to overthink it but you’d read the same page of your book a hundred times just trying to focus on anything other than the dead silence. 

By the time the sun went down, your feelings were, admittedly, a little hurt. 

You gave him until the following afternoon before calling yourself. 

It was Jan who picked up the phone. 

“Hey,” You muttered into the receiver, gnawing on your bottom lip, “Is Pelle around? He was supposed to call me yesterday.” 

You cringed, hearing how whiny and desperate you sounded. 

“Yeah uh-” Jan sighed tiredly on the other end, “listen, I think he’s in one of his moods. Øystein was really being a dick yesterday at practice.” 

“Oh,” you frowned, immediately feeling stupid. “What was he saying?” 

“He was talking about you.” you could practically hear him grimacing through the speaker “stuff about you being out of his league and just overall being an asshole about it. I think it really got to him.” 

“Oh,” the word sounded completely different this time around, your tone had shifted into disbelief “I’m gonna drive up there.” 

“That would probably be good.”

You shrugged on your coat and ducked outside, beelining for your beaten-up car, heart racing in your chest. You thought about how Pelle must be feeling on the drive up to the secluded house and felt an ache deep in your chest. 

The front door was always unlocked, so you didn’t bother knocking and let yourself in, heading straight for the stairs. 

You burst into Pelle’s room, inhaling sharply when you found him staring up at the ceiling blankly. 

“Pelle?” You called out to him softly, shutting the door behind you. 

Your voice immediately drew his attention, and he sat up to look at you. 

His eyes lit up momentarily, then dulled when Øystein’s words replayed inside of his head.

You closed the distance between the two of you and sat on the bed next to him, so close that the sides of your thighs were touching. 

“I missed you,” you breathed, looking up at him. “I always miss you when you're not around, did you know that?” 

Pelle met your gaze for a moment and let himself believe you for a half-second before his eyes darted away. 

“You shouldn’t.” He muttered under his breath, frowning hard, “I’m not good.” 

“Sure you are.” You knocked your shoulder into his gently, trying your best not to start crying now that you could see just how upset he was. It broke your heart to know that he thought so poorly of himself. “You’re kinda shit talking my favorite person right now.” 

He looked over at you again briefly, eyes full of disbelief and maybe even a little bit of hope. 

“Yeah.” you nodded, smiling softly as you brushed his hair out of his face. 

“You’re my favorite too.” The words would spill out of his mouth without meaning to, ghosting through the air in a hushed whisper. 

“Then what else is there to worry about?” Your fingertips grazed his cheek as your foreheads rested against one another. 

“You deserve someone better.” Pelle sighed, looking distraught at the prospect of you being anywhere but right there in his bed, staring into his soul the way that you were.

“Pelle.” You frowned. He could feel your brows pulling together against his skin. “I don’t want anyone else. I’m never gonna want anyone else.” 

“What if you get sick of me?” There was a slight creak in his voice. 

“I could never.” You told him with so much conviction that he breathed a shaky sigh of relief despite still feeling beyond insecure. “Not in a million years.” 

You reached out to cradle his face in your hands and pulled back slightly to peck him on the nose, then the cheeks. 

“I love you.” 

Pelle’s entire body felt like it was burning. 

He wondered for a moment if he’d heard you right, but the look of adoration in your eyes told him that he had. 

You loved him? 

How such a beautiful creature could hold him in such regard, despite his many flaws, was beyond his understanding.

Completely overwhelmed with emotion, but unable to verbalise his feelings, Pelle closed the short distance between you and kissed you. 

It started off gentle. 

A peck on the lips, followed by both of you pulling back slightly to look into each other's eyes, foreheads pressed together, before your lips reconnected, moving against one another softly. 

You cradled each other's faces, pouring everything unsaid into the kiss until it became frantic. 

The desire to get as close as possible overwhelmed you both. 

Without even thinking about it, you crawled into Pelle’s lap and straddled him. 

His eyes widened slightly, but he found himself wrapping his arms around you to pull you even closer, releasing a shaky breath. 

The two of you had never made out like this. 

You’d never really made out at all. 

Every kiss you’d shared had been soft and sweet, a complete contrast to the hungry, desperate way that you were clinging to eachother while your lips engulfed one another. 

Pelle’s fingers grazed the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up, and you inhaled sharply, not used to the feeling. He retracted his hand immediately, eyes wide with panic, thinking he’d ruined the kiss that he’d quickly been losing himself in. 

You snatched his hand and put it back, crashing your lips against his again, pulling his bottom lip in between your teeth gently. 

He groaned into your mouth, hands slipping up the back of your shirt. One rested on your lower back while the other ventured up your spine, pressing you into him. 

Your hips started to move, and Pelle thought for a second that he’d died and gone to heaven. 

He’d never felt anything like it. 

He hadn’t even realized that he was hard, too caught up in the kissing, but it was now painfully obvious. His cock strained against his jeans under you, pulsating with need. 

His eyes rolled back, and his kissing got sloppy in between gasps and moans. 

There was this inherent need to get even closer. 

As if you could read his mind, you pulled back slightly and peeled your shirt off, eyes locked onto his to make sure that this was okay. 

He glanced down at your bare chest, unfazed by the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, in awe. 

Tits in magazines and Øystein’s VHS tapes had never done anything for him. 

But now, he was unable to tear his gaze away. 

Without having to think about it, he cupped them in his hands, and you made a sound he couldn’t describe. It was enough to convince him to keep going. Your back arched slightly, pressing them further into his hands. 

Pelle leaned forward and pressed his lips to your collarbone softly before looking up at you.

His eyes were dark with want. 

You’d never seen him like this. 

Wetness pooled in between your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

 

He worked his way down your chest with his mouth, sloppy and wet as his mouth trailed over the tops of your breasts. His teeth grazed your nipple on one side, and you hissed, grinding your hips down into his. 

Pelle moaned into your chest, grabbing you by the hips to keep you from moving any further. 

That felt way too good. 

Your hands glided over his shoulders, gently nudging his flannel down his arms. 

Pelle wasn’t even thinking about the scars all over his body. All he could think about was your bare skin against his, so he helped you get it the rest of the way off, then peeled off his t-shirt. 

Immediately, he pulled your body flush against his, overwhelmed momentarily by the feeling of your bare tits on his chest as your foreheads pressed together once again. 

Your arms were draped over his shoulders as you stared directly into his eyes. 

There was something so tender and vulnerable in his gaze. 

“Can we take our pants off?” he breathed suddenly, eyes widening slightly as if he was startled by his own request. 

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, pecking him on the lips before you stood. “We can take our pants off.” 

He watched you intently as you slipped out of your jeans, then your underwear, leaving you completely nude before him. 

His lips parted slightly and he inhaled shakily.

At no point, as he clumsily undressed himself the rest of the way, still sitting on the edge of the mattress, did Pelle look away from you. 

He was far too enamoured by your beauty to even consider being shy about his own nudity.  

Slowly, you took a few steps forward and lowered yourself back into his lap. 

Your dripping cunt brushed up against his weeping cock and you both let out low groans, immediately overwhelmed by the feeling. 

You weren’t sure how far Pelle was ready to go and were doing all you could not to reach in between you to line him up with your entrance. 

Instead, you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him softly, sighing happily into his mouth when his hands rested on your hips. 

Slowly, the intensity of the kiss grew, and you pulled eachother closer until your bodies were flush against one another. Pelle’s fingers were digging into your hips hard enough that it would bruise, but you couldn’t care less because he was using his hold on you to guide your movements, sliding your cunt over his shaft. 

You were so wet and it felt so fucking good just rubbing up against you that he wouldn’t mind doing it forever, but when he pulled a little too hard and his tip lined itself up with your dripping wet hole, he froze before it could slip into you, burying his face in your chest to stifle the muttered slew of curse words. 

It took all of your self-control not to just impale yourself on his cock. 

“Pelle?” You breathed, guiding his face away from your chest so you could look into his eyes. “Look at me.”  

He did, shaking with desire, his arms wrapped around you tightly as his forehead rested against yours. 

“Is this what you want?” You whispered, searching his eyes for any glimmer of uncertainty, but you found nothing. 

Instead, you held his gaze while he nodded slightly and angled his hips a little better, pulling you down onto him slowly. 

You gasped, feeling every inch of him sink into you, bit by bit, while Pelle fought not to look away from you, completely overwhelmed by the warmth and wetness engulfing his cock. 

When his tip pressed up against your cervix and he bottomed out, he couldn’t even think. 

His eyes screwed shut and he couldn’t stop himself from burying his face into your neck, panting raggedly. 

You held the back of his neck with one hand while the other squeezed his bicep, fluttering around him as you got used to him being inside of you. 

“You okay?” you asked shakily, once you felt like you could speak. 

Pelle just nodded into your neck, pulling back slightly to look up at you. 

“I’m gonna start moving.” You warned, raising your hips slowly. 

He nodded, but his head immediately fell back in bliss as you lowered yourself back down. 

His hips bucked up into you, and you whined at the feeling, grinding yourself down onto him. 

Slowly, you worked up to an agonizingly slow rhythm, whimpering and groaning into each other's mouths once you could manage kissing. 

At some point, Pelle lost all sense of control and started rutting into you from below. He was already lightheaded and the sounds you were making were making the whole experience a lot more intense and all he could think about was painting your insides with his cum. 

He was muttering under his breath, half of it gibberish, while the other half was a combination of his mother tongue and curse words. 

You quickly devolved into a writhing, mewling mess, clutching his body tightly to your chest as you teetered over the edge, then came crashing down, convulsing around his cock. 

“Fuck.” he muttered against your throat as he neared his own climax with overwhelming speed, “Fuck, need you. I love you. I love you. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

His confession didn’t go unnoticed by you, but in your cockdrunk state, you had no ability to even process it immediately. All you could focus on was the spurts of hot cum being pumped into you at a sloppy, slowing, pace. 

You clung to eachother, coming down from your respective highs. 

Your breathing was ragged as your foreheads pressed up against one another. With flushed cheeks, you locked eyes. 

There was so much love and adoration in that look that you could barely take it. 

“I love you.” You muttered, leaning into him. 

“I love you too.” Pelle breathed shakily, seeming to slump into you with exhaustion. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[candycandy00]

Let the Whole World See - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Your boyfriend Togame convinces you to go on a date with him while wearing a very short skirt and no underwear. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Togame is in his mid 20’s. Exhibitionism. Humiliation. Oral sex. Slightly rough. Public sex. Public nudity.

“Jo!” you whine, trailing close behind your boyfriend, rubbing your thighs together nervously. 

Togame invited you on a date to the park, saying you could take a leisurely stroll and enjoy the beautiful autumn colors. It sounded romantic so you happily agreed, not realizing you’d end up like this. 

He even bought you a new outfit, picking it out himself. You were surprised by how cute the outfit turned out to be - a white tennis style skirt and a pale pink sweater that bares your midriff. He also bought white over the knee socks to wear with it. Supposedly he got help from a friend of a friend from the other side of town. You appreciate the effort he put into this day, but you’re starting to think it was more for him than for you. 

Because he insisted you wear no underwear, and the skirt is far too short. 

A few weeks ago, only a few days after you started dating, he told you about his exhibitionism kink. Your initial reaction was that there was no way this would work out. You’re extremely shy, and you told him so. He’d only smiled and said, “That’s what makes it so hot.”

The comment turned you on, and since then you’ve been wanting to try indulging his kink at least once. So today is the day. You agreed to this setup, of walking in public with him in a short skirt with no panties on.

He chose a place with hardly any people. It’s a weekday, at a time when students are in school and most adults are at work. And with the weather getting cooler, the park is nearly abandoned. He said he wants to ease you into this. 

But it’s still nerve wracking! Earlier you passed a lady jogging, and you’re very aware that there could be other people in the park. You keep tugging the skirt down, terrified a breeze will blow it up. 

Togame notices, and takes one of your hands in his. “Just relax,” he says. “Look how pretty the leaves are.”

He doesn’t understand. Part of your discomfort is from the fact that you’re very aroused right now. The cool air passing between your legs, the friction of your thighs, the thought that anything could go wrong and a random passerby could get an eyeful… all of it is getting to you. 

By the time you stop in front of a bench, your face feels hot and your skin is flushed, never mind the wetness that is just starting to drip down your thighs. 

Togame stands facing you, smiling in his easy going way as he watches you blush. “Do you trust me?” he asks. 

You look up at him, your eyes shifting about nervously before settling on his. “Yes, I trust you, Jo.”

He leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek. “Good,” he says before squatting down in front of you. His warm hands move up your thighs, pulling your skirt up and exposing your glistening pussy. You shudder at the cool air, and give a little squeak of protest, trying to pull the skirt back down. What if someone sees?

“Is this too much?” he asks, looking concerned. “We can go back to my place or-“

“N-no! I want to do this. I just got a little scared,” you say, moving your hands from your skirt. You trust your boyfriend with your life, but you’re not so sure about whoever else might be lurking in the park. 

He smiles again, pushing your skirt back up and pressing a kiss to your bare pussy, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, he pulls your whole skirt down to your ankles. You gasp, realizing this leaves you totally exposed. You’re so stunned you can barely react as he helps you step out of the skirt, wads it up, and shoves it into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Jo! What if someone walks by?!” you demand, coming to your senses. You couldn’t just quickly put your skirt back down like when he was holding it up. With it in his pocket, you don’t even have access to it, and your sweater is way too short to cover anything, no matter how much you pull it. Togame has complete control in this situation. 

And you’re so turned on you can hardly stand it. 

Togame stands back up and wraps his arms around you, the sensation of his clothes against your bare lower half making you feel giddy. And you notice something: a big, prominent bulge in his pants. He’s looking down at you as he says, “Can you take care of this for me?”

You nod, starting to sink down to your knees, but he stops you. 

“Not on your knees,” he says. “Squat.”

Squat? Like this?! You know that would put you in an extremely lewd position, but if it makes your boyfriend happy, you’re willing to try. So you lower yourself down, squatting, your legs automatically spreading apart. You can feel your juices dripping out of you and onto the concrete of the stone walking path below you as Togame pulls the front of his pants down low enough to free his thick cock. 

You’ve sucked him off before, but not in public, and not while trying to balance on your high heels in a squat that’s already straining your leg muscles. So you don’t waste any time taking him into your mouth, your tongue burying itself in his leaky tip. You’re trying to get him off as fast as possible, before someone walks by or your legs give out. You pull out all the stops, deep throating him, letting your drool and spit cover him, licking his shaft bottom to top, suckling his balls, even using your hand to stroke him when he’s not halfway down your throat. 

He’s breathing hard, making light grunts and groans as his fingers lace through your hair. You start to lose your balance, your head lurching forward and causing you to nearly swallow him. “Fuck, you’re being so good for me today,” he says as your hands move to his hips to hold yourself steady. 

You can feel his cock twitching, and you know he’s close. You know how this usually ends too, how he likes to do it. His hand on your head presses you further onto him, and once he’s so far down your throat you can’t breathe, he shoots his load right down your neck. You swallow quickly, wanting all of it. Even as he’s pulling out of your mouth, your lips are still sucking out the remaining drops. 

He helps you to your feet, his face a bit pink and his breathing still a little erratic. Then suddenly he pushes you behind him and turns his back to you. “Don’t move,” he says, and soon you find out why. 

“Hey, Togame!” you hear a voice say casually. 

You don’t recognize the voice, but it’s clearly one of his friends. Oh god, they’re going to see you like this! Your lower half is completely exposed, your pussy is dripping noticeably down your legs, and Togame’s cum is probably on your lips. You have no choice but to stand perfectly still behind Togame’s back, one hand clutching his jacket while the other vainly tries to cover your pussy. 

“Hey,” your boyfriend says back. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just taking a walk. Are you out here alone?” the voice asks. 

Oh no. Can he see your legs behind Togame’s? 

Togame chuckles. “No, I’m with my girlfriend.”

“Oh? Is that her behind you?”

Togame shifts slightly, probably to keep blocking view of you as his friend tried to look. “She’s really shy, so I’ll introduce you some other time.”

“O-okay,” the voice replies shakily, and you wonder what sort of look Togame gave him to make his voice quiver like that. “I’m heading back now. See you later.”

After a few more seconds, Togame sighs and turns to face you. “Sorry about that. He’s gone. I understand if you wanna go back now,” he says, reaching into his pocket to get your skirt. 

You put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Wait… I’m unsatisfied,” you say, shyly looking at the ground. 

He tilts your face up to look at him. “Really? Then I guess I better satisfy you.”

Togame flops down on the bench and pulls you backwards into his lap, so that you’re facing away from him. Then his hands are on your thighs, pulling them apart. You rise up enough for him to slide his pants down a little, and when you feel his fully hard cock against your skin, you use your hands to line it up with your entrance and then sink down, taking him all the way inside your wet, needy hole. 

You hiss at the stretch, but love the feeling of fullness only his huge cock can provide. His hands stay firmly on your legs, holding you open for all the world to see as you begin riding him, bouncing up and down on his shaft. 

Your breaths are hitching, quick, sharp little moans and whines escaping you as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands are hot and strong on your thighs as he leans his face close to your ear and says, in that maddeningly calm voice, “Someone could walk by any second and see this, see your slutty pussy gushing around my cock.”

“Jo… Jo… I can’t… I can’t stop!” you cry out, clenching around him, your hands gripping the fabric of his pants beneath you. 

He reaches around with both hands and pulls your sweater up, exposing your breasts, letting them bounce freely with your movements. “It’s okay,” he says into your ear, “I want people to see. Let everyone see how well you take me, how deep I can fuck this little pussy. I want everyone to watch you cum, so they’ll know I’m the only one who can make you moan like this.”

One of his hands slides down, his fingers rubbing your spread folds, finding your swollen, tender clit and giving it a pinch that makes you scream in pleasure. There on the park bench, where anyone could see or hear, you cum with a loud cry, sinking down as deeply as possible on Togame’s cock.

As you ride out your mind blowing orgasm, you swivel your hips, leaving him plunged deeply inside you. His hands are on your tits now, squeezing them gently. Suddenly his grip on them tightens, and you hear him grunt as he cums again, filling you absolutely full. 

When you finally climb off him, your legs are wobbly. He pulls up his pants, and just then you hear voices. “Jo, my skirt!” you say, and he hurries to pull it out of his pocket and help you step back into it. Just after you pull it up, you see his friend Choji and a few other guys coming around the bend. Choji spots the two of you and runs over. 

“Hey, are you guys here on a date?” he asks, looking excited. You hope to god he doesn’t notice how hard you’re clamping your thighs together, trying not to let Togame’s cum drip out of you. 

“Yep, just the two of us,” Togame says, putting an arm around you. 

Choji laughs and slaps Togame’s back playfully, though it looks a little too hard to you. “I get it! We’ll leave you alone. Have fun!”

As they walk away, you and Togame both sigh in relief. Then he grins. “That was a close one, huh? Let’s go find a restroom.”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy again. You can’t believe you had sex in public! 

Togame takes hold of your hand, leading you along. “Next time, let’s try something a little more daring. Maybe a place with more people.”

“What?!” you yell, shocked by the prospect. But you can’t deny that the thought made you a little horny. Maybe this would all work out after all. 

[greg-montgomery]

any other world - part 1

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader - soulmate au

series masterlist

prologue

once again a huge thanks to this angel @criminalskies 🥹🫂🩷

(38)

“Haley, I said no.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to that name.” She smiled; Aaron assumed it wasn’t a genuine reaction, but more of an attempt to lighten up the mood.

This happened a lot. She’d say something that made him think of you, he’d have a reaction, and she’d pretend she didn’t notice. It broke his heart, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“If you have a different name in mind I’m open to suggestions,” she added, taking his hands in hers.

He leaned in to kiss her. “Just any other name besides Jack. Please.”

“Okay.”

--

(20)

“Aaron…” you whined, kicking one of the pillows that decorated your bed on the floor. “Be done with it already.”

“My exam is at 8 am. I won’t have any time to revise in the morning. Just give me thirty more minutes.”

“I can’t sleep without you.”

“I know. But if I come to your bed to study, I will not be studying,” he argued, since there was no need of you to say anything for him to get what you were insinuating.

“I’ll just lay my head on your chest. I promise I won’t even talk to you.”

“Fine,” he said, always unable to say no to you; even though your weight on him and your sweet scent would definitely make the letters on his papers start dancing.

But you kept your promise. You carefully laid on him, letting him wrap one of his arms around you. The only thing you did before closing your eyes was kissing the inside of his wrist, just like you did every night.

“Good night.”

“Good night, tulip,” he whispered and turned his attention back to his notes. He’d ace the test and then he’d get to hear the words ‘I’m so proud of you, baby!’ from your sweet lips. Then all the sleepless nights of studying would be worth it.

--

(21)

That couldn’t be right. There was no way that was right.

H.B.

Aaron would never forget the heartbroken look on your face when you saw those letters. The way your excited smile faded into an expression that went straight through his heart and made it bleed.

He was desperate to comfort you, but how could he find the right words to say when his whole world was crumbling in front of his eyes too? Every single dream, every single plan for the future, every single promise had vanished into thin air.

“These are not my initials,” you said quietly. You were still holding his hand in yours, staring at the new mark on his skin.

“Baby…” he whispered, cupping your cheek.

“No, Aaron,” you said, your eyes slowly filling with tears, “These are not my initials.”

Aaron pulled you into his arms as you broke down crying. You were holding onto him with a strength he didn’t know you had. He rubbed your back, trying to clear up his own thoughts.

How could the girl in his arms not be his soulmate? His best friend, his lover, his partner in everything? You were his family.

“I don’t care,” he whispered in your ear. “I don’t care what the mark says. You’re my soulmate.”

“I’m not,” you sobbed, pulling back so you could sit face to face again.

“You are. You’re the love of my life.”

“Apparently I’m not though,” you raised your voice. He knew you weren’t angry at him, you were angry at life. “God, Aaron, what the fuck? How could we have been so wrong?”

“We haven’t been wrong. I’m not gonna let an unknown fucking force decide who I’m spending my life with. You’re the one I want and I’m staying with you.”

“That’s not how it goes.”

“That’s exactly how it goes.”

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, the way you always did to calm yourself down.

“Maybe we’re just meant to be friends.”

Aaron grabbed your jaw with his hand and pulled your face close to his, “Tell me when I was inside you earlier making you cry about how good you felt, did it feel like we were meant to be just friends?”

You wrapped your hand around his wrist and removed his hand from your face. “It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“That’s actually all that matters to me.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips. “What are we going to do, Aaron?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out, as long as we’re together.”

“This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.”

“I know, my tulip.”

“It’s unfair,” you added, like a kid whose toy was stolen by their sibling.

“I know. But I love you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Aaron was grateful you let him hold you when he pulled you into a warm embrace. But it was impossible to keep the thoughts from running into dark places. Like the clear skin on your own wrist which would be soon stained with initials that weren’t going to be his either.

--

(21)

It felt like the mark on Haley’s wrist was mocking you.

A.H.

The two letters you had been craving all your life to have them written on your skin, were decorating her wrist instead.

Haley was beautiful, smart, popular. The perfect girl next door.

You and Aaron had met her in high school. She was staring in a school play he was forced to participate in because of a bet he’d lost. You got along with her pretty well, and so did Aaron.

Back then you weren’t worried over the way they both used to geek over Star Wars – which you simply couldn’t get into, no matter how hard Aaron had tried to make you love – during rehearsals. You weren’t worried when he’d invited her to his birthday party that year and you had noticed her eyes sparkle when he had played his favorite Beatles’ song.

Back then none of that mattered. Because back then, Aaron was your soulmate.

Yet you still couldn't hate Haley, because she was in pain too.

Her birthday only a month after Aaron’s had confirmed your suspicions that his soulmate was her. And you could relate to her heartbreak, when Aaron had to break the news to her. When he informed her that no matter what their wrists said, he was choosing you instead.

Neither of you truly had him, and in that way you understood her.

--

(21)

“Here.” You placed the hot cup of coffee you’d made for Aaron, next to his book.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, reaching out his hand to touch your waist under your shirt. With that motion he pulled you close to him, so you were standing right in front of his chair.

He wrapped his arms around you and your own hands got lost between his hair. Aaron left a tiny kiss on your stomach and looked up at you. “I’m anxious.”

“You’re going to do great. You’ve been studying non-stop for days now.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing enough,” he admitted.

“You’re always so hard on yourself.” Your thumb rubbed the short hair on his temples as you kissed the tip of his nose. The nose kiss was followed by a soft one on his lips, before you pulled away again. “You’re doing more than enough. And I’m so proud of you.”

His dimples made an appearance and your heart smiled at your success. “There’s my boy.”

“Shut up,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. You could just pinch his cheeks every time you made him shy.

“Do you want me to help? We can go through some questions together. I’ll ask, you’ll answer.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking through his notes. “Haley gave me-”

At the realization of saying her name, he paused.

“It’s okay, you can mention her around me, I’m not gonna break,” you said, hoping you successfully hid the fact that you were annoyed.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Her cousin took the same exams last year, so she gave me his notes. He has written down all the questions that were on the test.”

“Good then. Let’s get to work.”

--

(45)

“Good night, buddy,” he whispered, leaving a sweet kiss on his son’s forehead. Jack usually replied with a ‘Good night, daddy,’ but he was already fast asleep.

As Aaron made his way to the living room in order to clear up the floor from his son’s toys, he heard a knock on his door.

He walked towards it as silently as he could, and looked through the peep hole; the fear of a possible intruder still poisoning his blood.

But the face he saw on the other side of the door took his breath away.

A face he hadn’t seen in years. A face he saw every night in his sleep.

He didn’t let a second more to pass before opening his door.

“Y/N?” he said in a breath.

Your eyes were red, and full of tears. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

tag list: @magical-spit @lilsunshine1092 @hiraethrhapsody @cult-of-enji-todoroki @emo-markie

[allophonicmess]

Past's Lilac Haze

Chapter 1

Masterlist

You only wanted to help you niece with her theatre project. And it got you and your Timelord husband involved in an alien attack on one of London's most famous theatres.

So much for his retirement plans.

14th Doctor x Timelord!Wife! Reader

"Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue,

Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier,

Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew,

As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire.

I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb."

You read with your best olden accent and high-pitched tone, imitating a squeaky girl's voice as the play asks you to. No reaction. You looked up from your script, expecting Rose to, in turn, answer with her line.

"Ninny's tomb." You repeated, nodding expectantly towards the crumpled printout in her hands. It was covered in annotations and highlighting, making it somewhat hard to read the actual text.

"You have to correct me now. Because I said Ninny's tomb." You explained, moving onto your knees to lean over and point her to the correct line. But she just stared at the text, trying to figure out what to do.

"Uh, but why do I need to correct you?" She suddenly started flipping through the pages, trying to find some context that seemed to be missing. She sighed, shaking her head in frustration.

"You need to correct me. Flute says it wrong. It needs to be Ninus tomb." You explained, showing her your own less annotated but aged copy. 

"But you just said that! Ninus tomb-"She felt irritated. It was a mistake to even enter the theatre club. She wasn't made for the stage, as learning text was way too hard. And she knew her acting wasn't much better; her mum noticed it too, cringing during the open rehearsals but always pretending to love it.

"No, that's the joke. Flute says Ninny's tomb so that Quince can correct him- "You stopped, setting down your text." We'll take a break. I can see that you are losing concentration." 

You got up, placing your booklet on the wooden coffee table that sat in front of the red satin two-seater. Rose had asked you to help her with her theatre role, much to the dismay of the Doctor (who bragged that he once was a Shakespearean actor, but Rose didn't care too much). So you offered her the chance to choose your study environment from any place she could think of. But instead of using the room emulator, she decided the Tardis library, which now came in a gorgeous dark wood and deep red satin theme, was the perfect environment. And you had to agree; It was a great choice.

"I'm going to get us some drinks, and then we can continue. You want tea or hot chocolate?" you asked, gently rubbing her shoulder. You loved your new role as her magic alien auntie, or so she coined the term. 

"Go back to your texts? I thought you two were done." The Doctor called as he entered the room. He had taken the day to set some things with Unit. They called in multiple crisis meetings to ensure that another incident like the Toymaker would not be possible. He hated the politics of it. So boring. But he saw the action plan as a positive initiative to prevent further harm to Earth or its citizens, so it was worth the effort. 

He confidently walked over to you, catching you by the waist to pull you into a hug. He hugged a lot. It was as if his body felt the need to compensate for the hug-free dry stretch during number 12. Not that you minded; his clinginess was somewhat cute.

"There is no need to get back to the text. I'll just text my theatre teacher and tell her I quit." Rose sighed, dropping her script next to your booklet on the table and sinking into her seat.

"No, you can't!" The Doctor whined, but he quickly whispered into your ear. "She that bad?" He cringed, hoping that Donna had been exaggerating. 

You rolled your eyes, thinking of a good answer. "Not bad, just… slow of study." You laughed softly at your own joke. But you quickly regretted it when you saw that twinkle in the Doctor's eyes. He had caught on. Oh no.

"Slow of study, you say?" He spoke with a booming theatre voice. 

"Oh no, please." You shook your head at him, hoping to make him stop. But it wasn't any good as, with starting his fourteenth life cycle, he had reached his Dad-joke era.

"Please don't" You pleaded softly.

"Have you the lion's part written?" He continued, moving away from you to kneel down at the side of the sofa. He was going all in, hiding behind the sofa's armrest only to slowly come up behind it. He looked at Rose with a playful expression, which shifted into a mix of shyness and embarrassment. The young woman tried to look away, to keep the frown on her face. But she couldn't fight the smile that spread over her face caused by the Doctor's shenanigans.

"Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study" he asked in a pinched voice. He stayed low, looking between Rose and the texts on the table.

A moment of silence as the Doctor stayed true to his role, and Rose's attitude began to crumble. You watched with a smile on your face. You believed him about having been a Shakespearean actor. He had talent.

"You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring," Rose answered in a small voice. She crossed her arms, trying to appear uninterested as the Doctor began to cheer.

 "Ha! See, you do know the text!" He laughed, quickly getting up and moving around the sofa to stand behind it. He laughed, shaking Rose by her scrunched-up shoulders. She tried very hard to keep quiet but stood no chance against the Doctor's infectious laughter.

"You will give the best Peter Quince performance there ever was. I just know it!" He turned, looking at your reaction. But you simply stood in the doorway, grinning softly at him. 

You loved to see him at ease in his new life; just see him be happy. 

He loved to make you happy; be the cause of that radiant smile. 

"Okay, then. You help her study since you seem to know the text by heart." You crossed your arms in a challenging manner. 

"I'll go get some drinks." You turned into the hallway to get to the kitchen, but Rose stopped you, calling your name.

"It would be really helpful to go and see a performance, no? For uhh... Artistic inspiration." She suggested but continued before you had the chance to comment. "And I don't mean the recordings. They are nice, sure, but-" 

"It's not the same as live theatre." The Doctor continued, nodding in agreement. He had settled down on the other seat next to his niece, casually leaning back, arms crossed over his chest and nodding slowly. 

"Exactly!" Rose swiftly turned around in her seat, looking at you with expectation. She knew that she didn't need to persuade the Doctor. He was ready and excited for any type of trip despite his retirement. You were the one she needed to convince.

"No." You stated simply. "We can go to the theatre like regular people. You know, take the bus, pay for tickets and so on. But we are not travelling." You shook your head. The term holds a much more significant meaning to the three of you than to the ordinary person. But Rose was all too aware that she had the two of you wrapped around her finger.

"Oh, c'mon! We don't have to travel far. It was on at the Globe this summer. What's a few months, eh?" The Doctor argued, his legs now kicked up onto the table.

You huffed a laugh. "Just a few months? Funny coming from the man that is still having difficulties with precision landing." 

"Oh, no, not this again." He sighed, "I land where I need to go; the Tardis works in mysterious ways. It knows when I need to be off by a few days… or years…" 

Right. You felt no need to comment on what could only be a joke. 

"Besides, I spent the last years always on the go. Been able to practice a lot, you know? I mean, compared to you-"

 "We don't talk about that now." You warned him gently yet firmly. 

He turned around to face you, genuinely sorry about bringing the topic up. 

"Talk about what?" Rose picked up on the tense situation. This was precisely what you tried to avoid. 

"I'll explain it to you eventually, but not now. It's a bit touchy." You told her, hopefully stopping her from asking any further. And she understood, nodding with empathy and then turning back to her text, thinking that any talk about travelling was over.

 For a moment, the library got very quiet. Only the soft cracking of wood and the rustlings of paper could be heard.

You were going to be strict, just once. Only this one time.

…

…

…

To hell with it.

You sighed deeply: "I love the Globe, I really do. But this year's version wasn't any good." 

Your comment made Rose set down her notes and turn in your direction slowly. She was about to activate her puppy-dog look, but you already gave in.

"1598-"You couldn't finish your sentence in time as she had already gotten up to wrap you up in a big hug.

 "But! My rules." You hugged her with a soft smile. The Doctor watched you two with amusement.

"We go there, we watch the play, and we leave. No prancing around and no adventuring." 

Rose let go of you, nodding very quickly and waiting for further instructions. You huffed a laugh at her giddy expression, nodding towards the hallway to notion her to get to the console room.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She called, running towards the console room. 

The Doctor also got up, watching after and chucking softly at her. "She is making you go soft." He noted, pushing up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "Soon she will be unstoppable, spoilt rotten and hijacking the Tardis", He joked, moving in slow, languid steps towards you. You were still leaning against the wall by the door.

"Nah, not on my watch." You pushed yourself off the wall to exit the room. But the Doctor quickly caught your wrist, holding it gently. He looked at you apologetically.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up. That wasn't appropriate nor funny." He looked at you sadly, trying to let you feel his honesty. You nodded, turning your hand in his hold to his hand. 

"It's okay. She'll have to know eventually. Keeping a tragic backstory hidden from that one? You wish." You joked, squeezing the Doctor's hand and leading him outside. He quickly moved to kiss your temple. It made you pause, taking him in momentarily and appreciating how your story had turned out.

"But- "You spoke into the moment of silence.

 He huffed a laugh: "But?... You fly?" 

You grinned, keeping yourself steady on his shoulders as you reached up to peck a kiss on his lips.

"You know it, Darling."

[awardenandacrow]

Hey! 22 or 17 for the Rook story time prompts!

So I initially was going to jump on 22, because my knee jerk reaction was to laugh at the thought of Naimeryn teaching someone else a skill. BUT, then I remembered that I have this headcannon that Naimy wouod totally wash everyone’s laundry for them, kind of out of habit to fill the time, but also kind of as a “I care about you so I will voluntarily do for you this thing I was for years FORCED to do”, and then I was that gif of excited Chris Pratt as this idea came to me. So, I will circle back to prompt 22 at a later date, and right now here’s the answer to Story Time Prompt 17: Rook teaches someone a new skill.

This functions as FANFIC SNIPPET 37; and will chronologically fall shortly after the snippet where the Bellara and Lucanis find out Naimy’s favorite breakfast food is pancakes.

[Lucanis finds out Naimeryn does everyone’s laundry for them.]

——————————————————————————

“Rook? What are you doing?”

“Oh, Lucanis!” Naimeryn squeaked, jumping and dropping several of the linens off the top of her basket. She turned to face him so she could see him. He looked surprised to have startled her.

“Sorry,” she said before he could speak, stooping to pick up what she’d dropped with one hand, holding the basket against her hip with the other. “I didn’t hear — or see — you leave the pantry.”

“Apologies,” he returned. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Naimeryn straightened up and shrugged with a shy smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just still getting used to the dead zone.”

She waved her left hand next to her face good-naturedly. A thought occurred to her, and she quickly dropped her hand. A master assassin would probably think someone who was half-deaf and half-blind an unfit leader. She smoothed her tunic over her thigh anxiously.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, then said “You… didn’t answer my question. What is all that?”

“Oh! It’s everyone’s laundry. I try to do it on days I don’t have to leave the Lighthouse. Make sure everyone’s sheets are nice and fresh, that kind of thing. I know it’s only been a few days, and you don’t really… sleep. But, do you want me to do yours?”

Lucanis frowned. “You… do the team’s laundry?”

“Yeah…” Naimeryn’s chest squeezed. Was that… wrong? “It’s just something small I can do so no one else has to worry about it, you know?”

Lucanis looked unconvinced. “Doesn’t the Lighthouse just… provide clean sheets?”

Naimeryn opened her mouth. Shut it again. She hadn’t thought about that. “Oh… I don’t know. I found the laundry room right after Bellara moved in and I just… started doing it.”

“Do the others know?”

“I… I don’t know that either. Does it matter?”

“I feel like I’m upsetting you.”

“*No,*” Naimeryn said quickly, dropping more of the laundry as she reached out to touch his arm reassuringly. Quickly pulled her hand back. What if he didn’t like being touched? She shouldn’t be overly familiar. They’d really just met. “No, no, I — *ow*!”

They’d both bent down to pick up the fallen laundry at the same time, and their heads had collided.

“I am *so* sorry,” Naimeryn said miserably as he rubbed his head. “I — I’m gonna just. Go.”

“You have a lot there,” Lucanis said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Would you like some help?”

“I —“ Naimeryn didn’t know what to say. No one had ever offered to help her with a chore before. Would it be all right to accept his help? Before she could decide, he’d gathered the fallen items in his arms.

“Let me help,” he said firmly. Naimeryn felt her cheeks flush at how earnestly he was looking at her.

“All right,” she mumbled. “It’s this way.”

She led him past the stairs up to the deck, to the stairs that lead down, beneath the dining hall. It was still strange to her how the room had simply not existed when she’d first explored the Lighthouse, but once there were four of them, the stairs had just… appeared.

“I must warn you,” Lucanis said, stepping onto her right side as they walked down together. Her heart fluttered. What was wrong with her? “I have never done laundry in my life.”

Naimeryn started to laugh, then caught his expression. “*Never*?”

He shook his head. “I’m the First Talon’s grandson. We had servants for that.”

*Servants?* a nasty voice prickled at the back of her mind. *Or* slaves?

Naimeryn swallowed the thought and forced herself to smile at him. “I guess that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about how lucrative being a Crow must be.”

“Our services are *very* expensive,” he allowed with a slight bob of his head.

“Good thing Varric’s coffers are paying then,” Naimeryn wanted to sound carefree, but nerves stirred deep in her core. It never occurred to her to think about the money. “Anyway, here we are.”

She walked to the large round tub at the center of the room, reaching up to pull the chord to fill it with hot water.

“Where does the water come from, I wonder?” Lucanis said, more the himself than to her, setting the clothes and sheets in his arms on the stone edge of the tub.

“Hm, dunno,” Naimeryn eyed the spout as she put the basket down as well. “We’re basically right under the kitchen, so logistically it makes no sense. But then, Fade logic is its own beast.”

As the room filled with steam, Naimeryn went to the shelf and gathered the soaps and two washboards.

“This is not easy work,” Naimeryn warned Lucanis, turning back to him. He was already rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Naimeryn swallowed thickly.

*Get it together!* she groaned internally. *They’re just forearms, Creators have mercy!*

“I am no stranger to hard work,” he cocked an eyebrow at her, further dizzying her feelings. “I did not mean to imply that.”

“Okay, Crow boy,” she smirked, opting to tease rather than reveal how uncomfortable she was making herself. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Unexpectedly, Lucanis proved an *excellent* listener. He followed her directions exactly as she explained how to measure out the proper amount of soap, and watched intently as she demonstrated washboard technique. Once he’d gotten the hang of it — it was a simple enough task, this was nearly immediately — they settled into a rhythm, and a companionable silence.

Naimeryn found she rather enjoyed his company. She supposed it could have been any of her companions, really; it was just nice to not have to be alone, even while doing something as mundane as washing clothes. He needn’t even have been helping. She supposed he could just have easily been reading a book or, she didn’t know, sharpening his knives. Just having him in the same space at the same time was… comforting.

Once the clothes were washed, she showed him how to hang things on the lines to ensure they dried completely — spread out, nothing overlapping. When they were done, she admired their handiwork and smiled at him with her hands on her hips.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” she teased.

“The credit all goes to my instructor,” he smirked. Naimeryn’s cheeks burned again, and she ducked her head.

“You were an attentive student.”

[painted-bees]

I love it when you dive into the psyche stuff with Margie and Raf. I swear I learn something new about myself every time I read a post about them. It's nice that they're both very patient and supportive with each other and that their struggles overlap in a way that grants them more empathy than they might have had otherwise. That said I'm curious to know how they clash, if at all. Does either of them have symptoms that triggers or exasperates the other's symptoms? How do they manage it?

that makes me so happy, thank you ; 0; <3

aaa so, chiefly, the relationship between these two is built on a pretty fundamental feature of "'winning' a situation/conflict is not more important than my partner's well being"--In that, like, they're both very proactive in looking at their situation and assessing if they're responsible for aggravating the situation/provoking a response, and to what extent. So typically, once they realize a situation has gotten away on them, they're both able to take a pause and even physically separate for a hot moment if need be--and then try and figure out what happened, what can be done, and apologize in earnest for any misinterpretation or disproportionate responses, etc. It's usually both of them apologizing to each other after identifying out loud out their own missteps/contributions, and it's usually fine. So a 'big' emotionally charged conflict between them might last like...an hour at most before before it deescalates into more co-operative conversation. Because neither of them want to "win" the fight, they just wanna not be mad at each other and see the other person comfortable--which requires understanding why they're mad rather than leveraging the other's angry response as against them, etc.

Funnily enough, this kind of...conflict resolution style wasn't Raf's initiative (he tends to be a lot more reticent to admit wrongdoing and apologize, lest it be used against him...and he's got a really bad habit of tallying up transgressions in his head and letting those grudges inform him on how much leeway he's willing to give someone before he decides they're straight-up unlikable)--but rather, it's always been Margie's way of negotiating conflict. Probably because she grew up with a very autistic brother, and being able to step away/leave the situation, calm down, and then reconvene to communicate their exact feelings and what provoked those feelings (in a weirdly dispassionate/objective manner of collaborative analysis) was a pretty critical part of her good relationship with him--a solution that evolved organically between them. And, since it worked so well with her brother (and frequently with her parents as well, wherein she'd often be applauded for her show of 'emotional maturity' or whatever lmao), she tries to employ this method with everyone close to her. It doesn't always work out... Earlier in her relationship with Raf, she'd always be first to apologize for provoking certain reactions out of him. As well, she just...never gets angry in response to someone being angry with her. She's also maybe a little too quick to apologize sometimes, which initially would have rubbed Raf the wrong way as being kinda manipulative/insincere (which, it kind of is...but not in a manner employed to gain any kind of upper hand over him)--to which he would deliberately avoid apologizing in response. He'd drop it instead, and act like nothing was wrong in the first place...which (whether consciously or not) is a manipulation tactic of his own, designed to provoke some variation of a "well wait, you were wrong and you need to give me apology" response from her. Which, of course, never came lmao. If Raf says "whatever, it's fine", unless she is also frustrated with herself, she'll take his word at face value. (the same way she does for everyone). Eventually, this leads him to to carefully admit when he feels his reactions are disproportionate. And, after while of that consistently leading to no further aggravation, his short hand to her "Sorry, I didn't mean to/I didn't mean it like that!" becomes a simple "I know. Sorry I barked at you." The gradual comfort of being 'wrong' in those very tiny, low-stake situations is what gives him the confidence to risk admitting he may be "wrong" in bigger conflicts. If, at any point--even once, Margie had taken this vulnerability and wielded it against him in any situation, he'd never let himself 'fall for it' again. But that's yet to happen. Still, it feels disproportionately risky for him to admit out loud, in earnest, that he had any part to play in a misunderstanding or in the construction of a bad situation--Like turning your back on an enemy who is poised to stab you with a knife.

Raf generally tends to be agreeable in most situations, he's a well practiced diplomat despite his disordered outlook and interpretations of things. But--he is stubbornly unapologetic. He'll drop the topic, insist it's no big deal to him anyway, tell you it's fine, to never mind, do what you want, etc. But he won't tell you it's 'his bad' or that he's sorry about anything. And if you don't meet him where's he's at with that then, in his mind, you've become The Problem. Forever. However, his care for Margie and her wellbeing bolsters his conscious efforts to treat her well, even at risk to himself. He'd rather end up in a situation where she's proven to him beyond a shadow of doubt that she never really cared about him and has been using him this whole time--than end up in a situation where he becomes a traumatic ex; someone that hurts her to think about. Therapy helped him determine that, at least in this situation, misplacing his trust is marginally less injurious to him than misplacing his suspicions. But sometimes, it takes him a hot moment to remember this and respond accordingly. Sometimes, it takes him more than a hot moment. Margie's there when he does come around to it though. She has her clear lines in the sand and--though I don't doubt that he's come close in his most fearful moments--he's never crossed them. With that said, yeah--I dunno LOL Raf is clinically predisposed to believe that he is being taken advantage of, or that he will be taken advantage of by anyone, at any given time. Margie can become pretty careless when she is very enthusiastic/eager for something, and her forward momentum does sometimes steamroll right over his toes. It can be more than a little challenging for Raf to stay grounded and respond reasonably when Margie lets excited desire drive her blindly forward at mach speeds when he feels like he's being dragged behind her. Other times, she'll try to dig into why he responded a certain way before he's had time to process and compartmentalize it for himself, all because she feels badly and wants to figure things out with him so that they can both feel better about it. He's learned that this is easily resolved with a terse "I love you, but holy shit, give me some fucking space, please." Which--usually warrants its own apology but, yanno...she gets it. Margie can be very "go go go, this is exciting, this is so fun, this is all that matters right now!! Oof--ow, shit, I hit something, was that a speed bump??" and Raf is often very "wait, what? Wait what!? Wait, that's all that matters?! Wait, what??? Hit the fucking breaks, that speed bump was me and now I am fucking dying." and that's usually where most of their conflict/clashing occurs. Margie will feel disproportionately ashamed/embarrassed/rejected, Raf will feel disproportionately slighted/put upon/mistreated. And if they didn't agree to talk to each other about it, with a shared, genuine desire to see each other in a state of comfort, their relationship probably couldn't thrive.

[valentoru]

|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 17]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

It was Thursday night, you would be leaving for the airport in eight hours to catch your flight to LA. You had missed fake-dating-Thursday as Satoru was already in LA. Not having fake-dating-Thursday this week pained you a little, it seemed it hadn’t really occurred to you how much you enjoyed it till it had gone. You would see him in fourteen hours though, that was a bonus.

You weren’t really sure why not seeing him saddened you so much, you clearly really relied on his presence in your life to keep you company.

You shoved some underwear into your suit case, it was full. Too full. When you had closed it, the edges didn’t meet. You had to climb up on your bed and sit on your suitcase in order to zip it shut.

When you had finally won the wrestle with your suitcase, you went into the kitchen where Megumi and Maki were waiting for you. You had told them you would only be a minute and ended up taking an hour. You plopped down in the other chair at your dining table, folding your arms on the table and resting your head on them.

Maki reached her hand over and rubbed your back. “Packing getting to you?”

“Yeah. It sucks. I hate packing.”

“Well, you could go and nap, we have like four hours till we need to get ready to go.”

“I would, but I’m actually going to go to the studio and practice.”

Maki’s hand halted. “Y/N.” You lifted your head up, Megumi and Maki were sharing a look. A look that your couldn’t quite decipher.

Megumi sighed. “Y/N you’ve been spending so much time at the studio, like, twelve hours a day.”

“Yeah, we’re worried. We’ve hardly seen you.”

If you were being honest, you had kind of been kind of been hiding from them. Or well, not them per se but definitely from Maki, considering she is the only one out of the three of you unaware of you and Satoru not actually being a couple. If you didn’t spend time around her there was no reason to lie, thus, the lie couldn’t get any worse. But you also wanted to keep practicing for Geto’s event, it was convenient timing if anything.

“I’ve just been busy, you know Geto’s event means a lot to me and I want to be my absolute best.” Well at least there was some truth.

“And you will be, but if you overwork yourself you’re just going to exhaust your talent.”

You sighed. She was right, actually. You had been burning yourself out. You had known when you got home at 4am on a Wednesday, but chose to ignore it. You were enjoying the distraction, when you were in the studio there was no one there to lie to, there was no one there to pretend to be dating, the was no one pecking you, bugging you, just you alone with your thoughts. Which had actually given you time to handle the situation with Toge outing your “relationship” in a much more civilised way—especially compared to your initial reaction.

“No you’re right. I’m actually going to go and catch some sleep, like you said.”

“Good.”

Megumi, though not speaking, gave you a nod of approval.

You got up and went back to your room quickly setting an alarm on your phone. You sunk into your bed and closed you eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Your alarm had scared you awake. You practically sat up straight in your bed. It had been a long while since you had to set one, you forgot how loud they can be.

You laid in bed for a while, simply mustering up the strength to get out of it. When you finally did you felt like your head was spinning, you'd had one of those naps where you didn't feel any better after it. You stumbled into the kitchen and quickly got yourself a much needed glass of water.

“Hey sleeping beauty.” The voice had almost startled you. You spun on your heel to be met with Yuji. It felt like forever since you had actually seen him like this, the last time it was just a one on one conversation with the two of you you’d ended up arguing about Yuji’s obvious feelings for Megumi.

Yuji was sat at your breakfast bar, his note book under him. You walked over to where he was sat, resting your elbows on the worktop. “What you writing?”

“Just some lyrics for Nobara.” You tried your best to get a peek of it, however, Yuji shut the note book and put it aside when he caught wind of what you were trying to do. You never really got why he was so protective over that note book, but you never questioned it. Everyone had something they didn’t want people to see, you figured that was just his.

“Okay.” You straightened your spine. “Okay, Im going to go freshen up then I think we can go to the airport.”

Yuji nodded. “I’ll go tell Megumi and Maki you’re just freshening up then we’ll go.” He spilled out of the stool and disappeared to Megumi’s room.

You went to your room and quickly threw on some comfortable clothes and grabbed your suitcase and carry-on, quickly checking through your notes on your phone to see if you had ticked off everything you needed. You had, luckily. You were free to go. You quickly left your room, being sure to shut your bedroom door behind you.

You were going to see Satoru soon.

The thought almost startled you. You’d been doing a fairly good job of not thinking about him, or how you hadn’t seen him all week. Not at fake-dating Thursday, not even in passing. You hadn’t seen him all week, it felt like a part of you had gone missing. It had never really dawned on you how much you relied on his presence in your life. You never realised how much you relied on “norm” which for you consisted of; seeing Megumi every morning, going to work, seeing Maki and seeing Satoru.

But for now, you had to not think about that. You had bigger things to think about. Like airport security, something your deeply despised. You loved flying and travelling however you could not stand airport security. You understand the need for it you just hated how longwinded it was, and how time consuming it was, and how mentally and physically draining it was.

You slipped your trainers on stood up. “We ready to go?”

Maki nodded. “Yep! I helped Megumi pack while you were asleep and Yuji and I came over here fully packed so we’re ready to go!” She was beaming. Over the last few weeks she had been a lot more smiley, you almost felt responsible for it, if you hadn’t of lied to her she wouldn’t be with Yuta. She would still be miserable. Given you’d put yourself through utter misery for close to 3 months but it was worth it to see you best friend so happy.

“Let’s go then.” Megumi grabbed his keys and opened the door, holding it open for everyone. One by one you filed out. Megumi locked the door and you left the apartment complex.

The whole travel you thought about Satoru. You allowed yourself to. You were excited to see him—not that you’d let him know. Despite the worries that had once circled your mind upon agreeing to sharing a room with him, you were honestly excited for it. Sharing a room with him wouldn’t be so bad, not at all actually. You enjoyed his company, a lot. He was fun to be around and it turned out you actually did have a lot in common with him.

This was going to be an amazing trip.

TAGLIST(34/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @littlecritteryay @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy @serenadesvt @art-n-rot @aastrobliss @herdemisee @tikideedee @tittiesarenice @fire-child-kira @csolya

AN:

Did you guys miss me ehe…

The uploads are going to get verrrry slow now since I’m starting college again so I don’t really have time to write, so it likely will be weekend before I’m doing anything, I’m so sorry guys, I’ll try and get stuff to you as quick as I can and keep checking my account for updates because Im sure some weeks I won’t be able to upload at all with the amount of workload imma have I can’t apologise enough!

© valentoru all rights reserved- do not publish my work on other platforms, plagiarise or translate.

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 14: Nest parasitism

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta reader, @appelsiinilight

In this chapter: Things get heated.

Warnings for this chapter: implied infanticide

***

As Thistle lay there falling asleep that night, all he could think about was how lucky he was.  He had all the love he needed right here.  His new family was expanding, his friends all getting along and helping him build a community. Downstairs, Severa had her egg and was glowing with happiness about her support.  Across the room, Marcy lay cozy in bed, ready to help him with anything he needed.

And beneath him, Moon snoozed comfortably.  The perfect pillow.  Thistle ran his fingers through the fluff on Moon's chest–poking out of his v-neck in a very picturesque way.

Moon cracked open an eye to reveal he had not been sleeping at all.  “Like what you're feeling?”

“Yes.” Thistle pressed his cheek into it. “You smell nice.”

Moon chuckled and drew Thistle closer to him.  “You're not so bad to hang around with yourself.”

“I'm glad you're here.”

“Yeah?”

“It feels good.  All the love in the house.”

“It certainly does.” Moon went for a kiss–aimed for Thistle's mouth, then swerved for his cheek, then second- and third-guessed himself and kissed the top of Thistle's head instead.

Thistle smiled.  “Maybe we should.  Y'know. Kiss more.”

“Whatever you like, my dear.”

“I'm not sure if you're my boyfriend, but I like you and you're really handsome.”

Moon tried not to spiral.  Kissing was moving fast for Thistle, but expressing genuine affection without a costume to protect him from it was moving fast for Moon. Start with the simple, basic, concrete facts. After all, it was refreshing how honest and straightforward Thistle was, right? “You’re an amazing and wonderful person. You're very important to me, and I want to spend a lot of time with you.”

Thistle blushed and hid his face down in Moon’s fluff.  “Do you want to… have sex?” he said, very, very quietly. 

“Uh.”  Moon made a noise before he could even think of a good reaction.  It seemed… wrong, somehow, to think of having sex with Thistle.  Like sex had been his old life, and now he had to hide it from pure, good Thistle, lest he be contaminated.  It was why he’d kept Rosy as far away from Thistle as possible.  “I mean.”

“I thought you would want to.”

“I do, but…”  But what?  Why was he panicking about it now?  “I want it to be at a time when you’re fully ready.”

“I’m not sure if I am.”

“Then you’re not.”  That he knew for sure. Any time he'd seen someone who didn't know if they were ready go through with it, it'd always been a mistake on their part.  Moon stopped thinking about it before he could start feeling guilty about his long history of monstrous actions.  I’m not going to be that person anymore.  For Thistle.  “I will wait for you to initiate, and I will wait for as long as it takes.”

Thistle rubbed his pointer finger on Moon’s chest.  “I want to kiss, though.”

“That we can do.”  That was safer.  They’d done that before.

Thistle crawled up Moon’s chest until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes.  It felt like Thistle was looking into his soul instead of his eyes. Moon felt naked, no costume to protect him from the affection.  No way to not think about the fact that it was his real self under scrutiny here, not something he built up.  He averted his eyes first.

Thistle chuckled and poked his nose.  “You’re silly.”

Moon lifted his leg and gave Thistle a gentle push, bringing him closer.  “You’re silly.”

Thistle leaned in and kissed him.  Moon had done this countless times before, to siphon off magic from unsuspecting victims.  But here… he was just doing it for enjoyment.  And it felt nice. And it felt nice for Thistle, and that was the feeling Moon was chasing now, the high of seeing Thistle feeling good at his hands.

Moon!  There was a psychic shout directly into his brain, in a woman’s voice.  Moon flailed, startled, and Thistle slid off him.

“Eh?” Thistle said.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t hear that?” Moon said.

“Hear what?”

Moon, help!

“Rosy,” Moon said.  He threw the covers back.  “She’s ramming a magical projection directly into my skull to avoid waking anyone else up.”

Help!  She’s going to kill me!

“You didn’t,” Moon said, full of dread. 

“Moon?” Thistle said.

Moon stood and hopped off the desk.  “I’ll be right back, my little wildflower, no cause for alarm.”

Thistle watched him go, then looked over at Marcy, still sleeping.  And he was conflicted, because last time he’d run off to help someone without waking Marcy, he’d gotten his legs broken and left for dead.

But… Rosy hadn’t wanted to wake anyone else in the house up.  Only Moon.

This was different now.  He wouldn’t leave the house.  He wasn’t alone.

Thistle climbed down the desk using the little rope ladder dangling off the edge.  He skittered out and went down the stairs one at a time, using his one-and-a-half wings to modulate his fall.

And when he peeked through the banister rail, Severa was out in the living room with Rosy wrapped up in her coils.  Moon had his hands out placatingly.  “Stop!  Wait, Severa, let’s talk about this!”

“This wretched bitch was trying to steal my egg,” Severa hissed, coils rolling, and Rosy let out a squeak.  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t break every bone in her body!”

“Moon?” Thistle said.  “What’s happening?”

Moon looked between them, hesitant.  Then burst out:  “I told you, Rosy, I told you the house is off-limits!”

A pit formed in Thistle’s stomach.  He dropped down and jogged the rest of the way over to the confrontation.  “Severa–please.  Let her go and let’s talk.”

At the suggestion from him, Severa dropped Rosy instantly.  The succubus fell to all fours coughing raggedly.  “Ah, Moon, my dear, just in time-”

“Don’t my dear me, you Jezebel,” Moon seethed.  “You knew what a stupid move this would be, yet you did it anyway.”

“Why were you touching Severa’s egg?” Thistle cried.

This was it.  There was no way to hide it any longer.  “Thistle, there’s something you should know about us,” Moon said heavily.  “My kind are… cradle-robbers.  Rosy was trying to swap our baby out for Severa’s egg, to trick her into raising it.”

Thistle looked sadly at Severa and Rosy.  “Rosy.  Rosy.  No.”

“I told her,” Moon said, panicked tears pooling in his eyes.  “Rosy, I told you over and over not to do it.”

Rosy hauled herself to her feet.  “Well, you left me to do all the work myself!”

“What work?  All you had to do was not swap the baby out with anyone in the house!”

“It’s not like there are many other options!  And it was hard enough to sneak into the nest with everyone around watching!  You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if you’d been stuck with the larva.”

Thistle stood watching the two argue, feeling numb.  “Moon.  Your kind steals babies?”

Moon looked from Thistle to Rosy, panicking.  He grabbed her by her fluff.  “I was serious when I said do not mess this up for me, Rosy.  Get out.  Get out right now.  Don’t ever contact me again.”

Rosy offendedly ripped her fur out of Moon’s hands.  “Fine, I’ll just take the larva and go.”

Thistle looked over into Severa’s nest and saw two identical eggs.

Oh no.

Oh no.

“Now which one is mine again?” Rosy said.

Severa hissed and blocked the door with her good arm.  “Leave them both.  I won’t risk you taking my egg.”

Rosy sneered and held up her hands.  “Fine, I guess I'll just leave, then.”

“Hold on.”  Severa’s eyes bounced between Rosy and Moon.  The enchanted lights on the porch, which has been glowing soft yellow this whole time, turned dangerous red.  “Cradle-robbers you say?”

“Not the sires, usually,” Moon raced to answer, seeing all too clearly where this was going.

“Now hold on a minute!” Rosy said.

“What have you been doing with the children you’ve stolen?” Severa said, sides heaving with dangerous hissing.

“What do you think I’ve been doing with them, raising them as my own?”

Severa let out an enraged hiss and lunged towards Rosy, her hand ghosting against Rosy’s wings as the succubus leapt up and out of range.  Severa threw herself to follow, lunging again, but Rosy used a bit of magic to teleport up and onto the windowsill.

She paused just long enough to toss over her shoulder: “Moon, don’t come crawling back to me when you realize what you’re missing.”

“Go, woman!” Moon shouted.  “For fuck’s sake!”

She vanished.

Moon turned to Severa with some visible trepidation.  “I’m sorry, Severa.  I’m very, very sorry.  I told her in no uncertain terms not to touch your egg.”  He spread his hands and bowed.  “I know how much it means to you, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that, whether purposefully or through carelessness.”

Severa was in his face in an instant, angry eyes drilling into him.  “I had no idea we had a baby-killer in the house.”

He grimaced and lowered the dip of his bow even further, shrinking away.

“Hold on!” Thistle said, dashing over and waving his hands in between them.  “Hold on, Severa!”

“I haven’t,” Moon said.  “I never once laid a hand on a child.  I barely ever see children, not even my own.”

“There, you see?” Thistle said.  “It was all Rosy.”

“He is an accomplice,” Severa spat.  “Just because his biology excuses him from giving birth does not mean he is innocent when his mate commits such crimes for his children, with his full knowledge.”

Moon sunk to the ground, all hope of maintaining his dignity lost.  “It’s true,” he said.  “I knew what she was doing, and I never thought to stop it.  It’s monstrous, I know.”

“But he never did anything,” Thistle argued.  “It was entirely up to Rosy!”

“You are just telling yourself that to feel better about the situation!” Severa accused.  “Because you want to accept this creature into the house!”

Thistle looked away, uncomfortable.  

Severa tensely crawled back into her nest, hackles raised.  “I was careless to leave my egg for even an instant.”

“I’ll help,” Moon rushed to offer.  “I’ll get you whatever you need so you don’t have to leave the nest.”

“You will go nowhere near my egg.”  Severa pulled her door shut.

“I can help you figure out which egg is the changeling,” Moon offered desperately.

A pause. Then, Severa cracked the door open. “Will the changeling harm my baby?”

“...No, I suppose it won’t.  Not any moreso than a typical baby would its sibling.”

“Then I have two eggs now. Let it be a surprise which is which.” She shut the door. “Now leave.” 

***

Moon excused himself to brood, hastily making his exit before Thistle could initiate a conversation about what had just happened.

Just when it’d seemed like things were going well. 

He sat in the moonlight, thinking.  About his own parents–or rather, the borrowers that raised him.  About how they must have felt.  What they must have thought about him.  Even though they were long dead by now.  About how Severa had simply kept the egg.

About what they might have done if he’d stayed.  If he’d asked them to still love him knowing what he was.  To knowingly have an incubus in their home, giving it affection freely, the way Thistle had been doing until now.

Would they have done it, like Severa did?

Would Moon have killed Summer the borrower, if it'd been necessary to sneak his own larva into his parent's nest?  Would he have smashed Severa's egg, killed Petunia? Would he have smothered Thistle as a baby if he hadn't been excused from the chore by his biology?

The answer he doesn't want to face is that he probably wouldn't have, but only because he didn't want to get his hands dirty. He was both spineless and completely amoral. And he'd been fine with that, until he saw what being something else could get you.

Those two borrowers that had raised him, did he even have the right to call them his parents?

He sat on the roof under the moonlight and set up his wardrobe so he could use the mirror.  He shrunk himself down, crushing his bones into a borrower's skeleton. He pulled his fur out into a chestnut brown. He pulled his ears out.  He sculpted a tail.

He looked at himself very carefully in the mirror, judging his appearance. Unlike every other time he'd done this, he wasn’t trying to make himself as attractive as possible. He was trying to make himself look like someone very specific. The grown up version of a child he'd seen in the mirror long ago, a lifetime ago.

He uses a finger to dot some freckles on his face.  There.  That was just about right.

He left his eyes red. Both because eye color was hard to change, and because he wanted Thistle to be able to guess it was him. To spare him from having to say it. To just allow him some sort of buffer.

He put on his borrower clothes, then shrunk his wardrobe down to put it back in his pocket.  He scampered back to the house, ducking in through the window.

Thistle was asleep in Marcy’s hand.

Moon rappelled down the wall and jogged over to Marcy’s bed.  “Hello?” he called up.

Thistle rolled over, peering down over the edge of the bed.  “Hello?” he answered quietly.

Moon’s luminous red eyes disappeared and reappeared in the dark as he blinked.  “My name is Summer.  I’m a little lost. I was hoping you'd be kind enough to let me take shelter in your nest. It looks like it's about to rain out.”

Thistle stared at him.  Just for a moment.  Then, he climbed off Marcy and jumped down, sitting down next to Moon so they could look eye-to-eye.  “Hi, Summer.  I’m Thistle.  You’re welcome here.  You can stay for as long as you want to.”

“That’s very kind of you.”  Moon wrapped his tail around his feet.  “It seems like you welcome all kinds here.”

“That’s right.  We even have predators here.  But only if they agree to work for a better life with us.  One where everyone has to suffer as little as possible.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah.  It is.  It’s not without its challenges, though.  Some people here have done some pretty bad stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I have this one friend, and he’s spent his whole life being selfish and evil.  But you know what?  All it took was him deciding to be better to make him fit in here.  That’s what we all have in common, is that we work together to make things better for all of us.”

“What about justice?”

“Justice is… sort of a human concept.  It’s not without merits.  But my kind just sort of… doesn’t operate that way, you know.”

Moon drew his knees up to his chest, feeling smaller than ever.  “I bet your friend isn’t used to being shown that kind of understanding.  I bet he doesn’t know how to handle it. I bet he yearns so much for a better life that he panics when anything threatens to take it away.”

“That’s okay.  I’m patient with him.”

“I bet he's not used to people doing things like that for him after he's told them who he really is. I bet he doesn't know how to handle people liking the real him."

“I think you’re probably right.  But you know what?  I know the real him can be a really good person, if he just decides to be better.  That’s what we’re all doing.  Just working to be better every day.”

Moon wiped his eye on the back of his paw, horrified to find that he couldn't stop himself from crying. "Maybe he doesn't even know who he is. Maybe he's spent so long pretending to be other people that he doesn't know who he is when he's alone."

“Well, maybe he has room to figure that out now.  Maybe he doesn’t have to let the past dictate his future.  Hm?”

Moon wanted it so bad it hurt.  His old wounds from forever ago, the man he used to be, have been being reopened more and more recently, and it hurt. The possibility of a better life with genuine love has been within his reach, and it was so fucking scary thinking about how it could be yanked away again if he loosens his grip on it.

When had he become so foolish?

"I want to believe that," he says, scarcely above a whisper. "But it's so dangerous to hope.  It’s hard.”

“It’s hard, but… I know you can do it.  You’ve done some amazing things.”

Moon let out a strangulated sigh.  “This is who I was born as, you know.  Summer the borrower.”

Thistle put his arm around Moon’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.  “Summer the borrower is nice, but I know this really cool guy named Moon who's even better.”

Moon laughed sadly.  “I bet Summer’s parents didn’t feel that way when they found out their baby was gone.”

“You were literally a baby when that happened.  And they raised you, didn’t they?  They were your parents.”

“I stole their love, Thistle.  That was a century ago, but I bet if they were still alive to ask, they would resent me.”

“Well… kind of a moot point now, isn’t it?”  He poked Moon’s chest.  “Maybe now we can think about our actions now and how we can take responsibility for things going on, huh?”

Moon sighed, ashamed.  “I’ve always just avoided thinking about what she was doing with the babies she’d swapped out.  I never asked, but I could have imagined.  I’d just chosen to ignore it.”

“And why was that?”

“Thistle, I… I don't have any excuses. I knew full well what Rosy was doing with the larva I sired for her, and I didn't think it my problem. It was a careless, foolish, and selfish way to live my life. And I understand now the kinds of values that would drive someone to acknowledge the problem and do something to put a stop to it, and I've seen what it can do. Here, with you. And I want to be part of that.”

“You can be.  You already are.  You’ll always have a place here, as long as you want to be part of it like that.”

Moon stood, trying to regain some of his dignity.  “I suspect I'll just forever be on Severa's naughty list now. Not that I blame her. I just doubt I will be able to do anything to redeem myself to her.”

“Well… she’s got a bonus baby now, because of you.”

“I doubt I really get credit for that.”  Moon wiped his eyes.  “I guess I can take off the costume now.  Haha…embarrassing that I had to use it as a crutch to talk about my feelings, but it was certainly therapeutic."  

Thistle giggled.  “I’m glad.  Hey.”  He tugged on Moon’s sleeve.  “Why don’t you try sleeping in Marcy’s hand with me?”

Oh, that was the thing Moon had been avoiding until now.  Despite how inconvenient it was for Thistle to have to choose between sleeping with Moon and sleeping with Marcy.  Marcy had been doing very well at easing Moon into being around humans while respecting his boundaries, but he was still… hesitant. He’d been on the desk for now, and no closer.

But it seemed less scary now.  He smiled.  “All right, Thistle.  I’ll give it a try. For you.”

***

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[mothergold]

| Take Me With You |

Zhezhi x Gn!Reader | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Depression, Mental Health Themes, Gender Neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Ooc Zhezhi (?), Established Relationship, Psychosis, Angst, Paranoia, Negative Thought Patterns, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Zhezhi is implied to also have mental health issues, 1.5k words.

Summary: After you vanished from the public eye for about a month Zhezhi begins to worry. Then, one day she finally sets out to find the truth about your absence.

It had been a whole month since Zhezhi had seen you roaming the streets of Jinzhou City. Usually you would have been found watching people who passed by or reading a book on a bench nearby, but it had been a long time since Zhezhi had seen that familiar sight. Initially she worried she had done something wrong, perhaps she had offended you in some way without realizing, but she quickly understood that wasn’t the case.

Granted she probably could have called you, maybe even find an excuse to come see you. Although, that was easier said than done. So, she waited until she felt too much time had passed, and indeed it had. Zhezhi gathered a basket full of items she hoped would cheer you up, and mustering up all the courage she could she nervously made her way to your place. 

As she made the journey there Zhezhi thought about all the reasons that could have resulted in your absence, trying her best to prepare for the worst, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the truth behind it all. 

She knocked on the door once, twice, three times, but there was no answer. Zhezhi called out your name, suddenly feeling nauseous and on edge. No answer. Twisting the knob she realized the door had been carelessly left unlocked and that's when she felt her heart drop into her stomach. She was terrified of what she would find inside. So, without hesitation she started to knock on the door faster and louder, calling out your name as she neared the brink of tears, panic flooding her veins like a contagious disease. 

There was a brief moment where Zhezhi considered walking inside and looking for you herself, not caring whether you gave her permission or not. Thankfully, she decided against it.  Instead she practiced breathing deeply in and out while she watched as the knob turned and the door slowly opened to reveal you standing before her. 

“Zhezhi? What are you..?” You rubbed your eyes with your fists and yawned. 

Zhezhi became fidgety as her face turned bright red. Averting your gaze she tried her best to explain her irrational behavior in a rational way. After some time she was finally able to explain everything in full to you. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Zhezhi. Her body curled and eyes glossed over shamefully, feeling the weight of everything she’d gone through that past month.

“How about we talk inside.” You offered with a smile, taking Zhezhi’s hand with your own. 

As you led her inside Zhezhi was introduced to the environment you had unfortunately grown accustomed to. There were dirty dishes piled up in the sink, clothes which most likely hadn’t been washed in a while which littered the floor, and it was incredibly dark due to the closed curtains and lights which were either turned off or dimly lit. It was an absolute mess and that only furthered Zhezhi’s concern, she was reminded once again why she was worried in the first place. Regardless, of her exaggerated reaction, her concern on the other hand was warranted.

You brought Zhezhi into the kitchen where you showed her a small table and set of chairs, and gestured with your hand for her to take a seat. 

“I hope this is okay, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over and this is.. uh..” You stopped yourself, not wanting to say the words that lingered underneath your tongue.

“What is it?” Zhezhi asked in confusion.

You shook your head as you grabbed an empty glass from the cupboard and began filling it with water. “I just didn’t have time to clean, so this is the cleanest room for now.” There was a pause where only the sound of the running water could be heard. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Who were you kidding? Of course, Zhezhi cared. She didn’t come over for any fun occasion. The only reason Zhezhi nearly barged into your house was because you had practically vanished from civilization. Turning off the faucet you clenched the glass, your hand shaking as those voices replayed in your brain like a painful memory. You grit your teeth before relaxing your mouth and turning to smile something strained towards Zhezhi just as you placed the glass right in front of her. You took the seat across from her and looked anywhere that wasn’t in her direction.

“So..” Zhezhi started, “How have you been?” She smiled nervously, but behind the awkwardness you could see worry and fear swimming in those pink irises of hers. 

You sighed. “Really?” 

Zhezhi looked at you and frowned. “Sorry..” 

There was a moment of silence.

“What were you- Where were you?” She finally asked. Her eyes had begun to gloss over and you could see her bottom lip tremble. 

You picked at the edge of the table with your nail, head faced down as you spoke. “Here. I’ve been here this whole time.” 

“Why?” Zhezhi asked. There was a desperation in her voice that you found all too familiar.

You tried your best to keep a composed expression but you couldn’t help but glare at her a little. “You know why, Zhezhi.” 

Your words made her slump in her seat. She of all people should’ve recognized the signs. So, why didn’t she see it coming?

“How come you didn’t tell me? I would’ve-“ she stopped upon seeing you turn your head to hide your teary eyes from Zhezhi— “I would’ve helped you.” 

It was sick really, like twisting a knife in an already paralyzed back, how easily Zhezhi spoke those words as if they were true. They weren’t. You knew better than to believe a word she had said. It wasn’t necessarily that she was a liar, rather that you were never all in when it came to trusting people. Why would someone be kind when being cruel was so much easier? 

“Hey, look at me.” Zhezhi asked, her voice as gentle as her touch.

You hesitated for a moment before looking up at her. Upon seeing your face stained with your sorrow she felt her heart twist in pain. Zhezhi had never witnessed you in such a miserable state before. It was as if someone had sucked the light right out of you and hidden it somewhere that never existed. 

“Let me help you.” Zhezhi consoled you. 

On one hand you wanted to put your faith in her. Fuck, you seriously wanted to trust her, but it was the equivalent of pulling each and every one of your teeth out. She’d never done anything to cause this distrust. If anything Zhezhi had been more deserving of your trust than anyone. So, then why was it so fucking difficult? 

You wiped away the stray tears that trailed down your cheeks. “It hurts. Everything hurts and I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

Zhezhi slowly rose from her seat and walked over to your side, wrapping both arms around you as she felt your walls crumble down. She held you even as your tears stained her nice clothes, caressing your hair as you sobbed into her chest. 

She shushed you. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

You really hoped she was right. Half of you wanted to believe her while the other half fought viciously to prove her wrong, but you were tired of fighting. You were sick of fighting the voices, the ache in your chest, and everyone who tried to help you. More than anything you wanted to be free from that torment but you weren’t sure where to even start. Maybe it was too late, you thought for sure it had to be. 

After some time you eventually were able to calm yourself and quiet your cries. Carefully pulling out of Zhezhi’s arms you brushed your hand against the side of her face as you smiled sadly. 

“What am I gonna do, baby?” You whispered as a tear fell down your cheek. 

Zhezhi smiled. Frankly, she wasn’t sure where to start either, but anywhere was but nowhere. 

“We’ll figure it out together. Okay?” Zhezhi reassured you.

“But-“ you interjected but were quickly cut off by Zhezhi kissing you.

The kiss was deep and gentle. Your hands clung to her arms and you leaned in to get closer to her just moments before Zhezhi pulled away. 

“What if.. What if I stayed with you for a while? Just till you’re feeling better.” Zhezhi suggested. Her heartbeat started to race. 

You smiled and had begun to cry, but this time it was happy tears. “I think that sounds like a good idea, but uh.. I should clean my house first.” 

You looked away from Zhezhi, embarrassed by the current state of your home. 

Zhezhi turned your chin gently so that you were forced to look into her eyes. “I’ll help.” She said.

You wanted to protest and for a second you opened your mouth to do just that, but Zhezhi was quick to intervene.

“You don’t need to do everything on your own. We’ll do this together.” She reassured you. 

You felt an unfamiliar feeling blossom across your chest as Zhezhi reached out for your hand and gently squeezed it. Even you couldn’t help but admit that the thought of someone helping you was relieving. Maybe, it would be a beneficial change. Perhaps, this is where things will start to turn up, you thought. 

You nodded. “Okay, together.” 

The both of you exchanged genuine smiles before you leaned in and kissed Zhezhi. And for the first time in a long time you had hope. 

[autumnslance]

spy — for the single-word drive!

(700 words. This one took me a bit, stops and starts, other writing. But I knew it'd be our FF16 AU, "On Our Fates Alight", where Aeryn and Zaine spent some time post-Calamity in Eorzea up through the Banquet, and then meet the Scions again when they arrive in Thavnair to handle the Tower of Zot. But some things don't change, even across timelines...)

Aeryn stepped out onto the balcony and took a deep breath of the sweet, humid air. The last rays of sunset still lingered, the day's heat clinging to it as the familiar night sounds of the Meghaduta's gardens filled her ears, the city lights glimmering under the star-filled sky. She frowned, looking into the shadows for what had intruded upon her peaceful solitude.

"Forgive me, Princess," Thancred smirked as he stepped into view. "I had no intent to disturb you."

"I am not a princess," she reminded him by rote. It was an old game, one they had played in their initial meeting those years ago when she and Zaine had visited Eorzea. Thancred had teased that her place as the Satrap's ward ensured she lived like one.

Back then, he couldn't know what she truly was.

"No," he replied, as if hearing her thoughts. "The better term would be spy."

"That, I am given to understand, is your profession," she said, indicating the marks on his neck. She tried not to sound indignant, as he wasn't entirely wrong.

"Perhaps why we got along," the Scion said, stepping closer. She lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze. Trying not to tremble. She still didn't understand how or why this man, out of all the many in the world, caused such reactions. "Like recognizes like," he continued.

"Is that what you're doing now? Spying on me?" She stepped away to lean nonchalantly—she hoped—at the balcony rail.

"You're not denying what you were up to, when we first met."

"It would be pointless," she replied. "You've worked out that part of our duty in Eorzea was to gather information, particularly about those involved with Dominants. So we learned that the hero Louisoix's order had reformed anew, and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn drew in Dominants and their Eikons, against the depredations of the Empire." Aeryn sighed. "That we had to see for ourselves, too; the neutral stance of Thavnair could not last indefinitely."

"Not with you and your brother being Dominants as well," Thancred said, an accusatory tone to it.

Now she did look at him, bothered by the stern, near-scowl. "Please understand, I didn't wish to deceive you. But it was safer for us to travel in secret."

He sighed. "I do understand, it does make sense, I just…am still not sure how such a thing could get past me. Hiding from hunters like Gage, I can understand. But how did you hide even from the other Dominants?"

Aeryn smiled. "Some secrets must yet be kept, you understand."

"Then I suppose I shall have to try that much harder to prise them from your lovely lips."

Heat flared on her cheeks and she turned her gaze back to the cool, dark gardens, the city lights a haze beyond. "Your speech is not so silvery as to make me forget my duty," she said. "Even if discovery is your own goal."

She was terribly aware when he stepped closer, his hand resting close to hers on the railing. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "Then perhaps we set aside talk of duty for now, and speak instead to what was happening between us then, and still seems to linger now."

At this, Aeryn's eyebrows rose. "Discuss? As if adults?"

Her tone made him laugh sheepishly and rub the back of his neck. "Much has happened, since the Crystal Braves forced our separation."

"So I have heard." She and Zaine hadn't been the only agents Thavnair sent to the nations of Eorzea, after all; merely the most visible. She adjusted her hand slightly on the rail, shyly brushing her fingers against his. "Much has happened, and yet in some ways it feels little time at all has passed."

And so they began to speak, haltingly, carefully, the tension of propriety versus their rekindled emotions a coiling string betweeen them.

So engrossed were they that despite their respective keen skills and senses, neither noticed the small, still simulacrum that had himself stepped out to enjoy the evening gardens in this way, and had heard each word from below. Now he smiled, and silently slipped away to allow the pair their privacy.

[ateriblewriter]

incubator idea:

lydia decides to help her sister and brother in law jack out in a big way, a huge favor that's nine plus months in the making. a baby because they couldn't have one on their own. at some point in time she runs into trevor at a function. after realizing were they know each other from ... sparks more or less fly. trevor notices lydia is acting differently, almost as tho she's. she would have told him if something was going on, right?

possible insert #1:

"you guys wouldn't mind if i date anyone?" lydia bit the bottom of her lip, looking back and forth between the two expectant parents. "i may have met someone before we started this process."

"you met someone?" jack's jaw dropped and eyes went wide. cece hit her husbands chest with the back of her hand at her husband's response.

sure it may not have been the greatest of timings on her part. but you can't help when you meet the certain person. or rather that person re-enters your life.

"its fine lyds. as long as they're okay with the circumstances and what your doing for us." that was something lydia had yet to do. it actually scared her to think of his reaction.

"do we know him?" jack questioned, he wanted to meet this person and if he already knew him all the better. by the way lydia was looking down at her hands in her lap it was a big fat yes.

who was it. he couldn't have been either of jack's brothers, they were both happily in relationships of their own. it could be any one of his friends. or maybe an enemy?

"does he play hockey?" his eyes narrowed, his brain going into overdrive trying to think of anyone he knew was not committed to a significant other. a few names came to mind, one in particular.

"jack. stop." cece stopped jack before he could question lydia more. he just wanted to make sure she was safe and the precious cargo she was carrying would make it to the deadline.

possible insert #2:

"what's going on with you?" trevor let go of her frizzy golden hair. this was not the first time this week he had caught her running to the bathroom.

"nothing. everything is just fine trev." using her fingers Lydia wiped away any remnants of her snack that had just found it way back to the outside world.

she didn't know how much longer she could keep the ruse of nothing is wrong with me. because the longer she went into the lie, the harder it was going to be telling trevor the truth.

"that's bullshit."

"im having a baby." she threw her head in hands. who said ripping the bandaid off was easy, because it hurt like hell. and she didn't want to lose him.

"what?" trevor's ears couldn't quite register the incoherent mumbles. she needed to speak up if he was ever going to find out what she was saying.

"im pregnant." trevor never moved so fast to get away from her, standing up to lean against the bathroom sink. so many terrible thoughts were running through his mind.

"is it jack's? are you guys?" he had to refrain himself from saying some of those harsh things. was she cheating? was jack cheating?

"yes and no." lydia could see by the look on his he was confused by her reply. she explained further how her sister and jack weren't able to have children and they asked her to be their surrogate.

"im just an incubator."

possible insert #3:

"why are you still here trevor?" lydia rubbed over the bump. she could feel another contraction starting.

"this is not a choice." trevor really didn't want to be there, still being upset with her over the events from months before he was doing this as a favor, since he may have been with lydia when she initially went into labor.

"you can leave at any time." she ground her teeth together, the intense pain sweeping over her.

"i promised jack i would be here since they're still in the air because you refused to go back to new jersey when you were supposed to." he bit at the peeling skin on his bottom lip, watching something on his phone.

trevor looked up when there was some snarky response from her. he got up, and offered his hand for her to squeeze. "hey hey. breathe. breathe." any thought of anger he had towards her was instantly washed away when he saw the pain in her face. he still loved her. he would always love her.

please read:

i have yet to decide if it will be an oc or a reader insert type thing. for the sake of garnering thoughts i chose an oc. i hope you guys enjoy this idea, cuz i kinda like it.

please please please tell me what you guys think of this idea. also please note that this is just an idea, and based off if people like the idea i will write more of story around it.

[twilasversion]

So I saw this review of the deluxe tracks for Short n' Sweet and I have to say I ~absolutely~ agree. That being said, just to add *my opinion* that Bad Reviews really doesn't work as a closing track to the album for me.

Especially as we know Needless to Say exists, is missing from the tracklist and would be the PERFECT closing tack. Like that was my initial reaction when it was released back in August last year: "This should have been the closer". But after the 2 final slow, sad songs on the standard tracklist, Lie To Girls and Don't Smile, I could understand why it was initially cut. But with these bonus tracks added there's really no excuse? Like it makes sense chronologically/thematically for Needless to Say to come straight after Bad Reviews?!

Like the Deluxe album (I would've preferred she kept the Short n' Sweet(er) title or Short n' Sweet(est) in line with emails i can't sent fwd: over simply Deluxe, but I digress), is 17 tracks longs which is a really weird number for an album? It's not even a physical copy thing because CDs can contain up to 99 tracks and 12" vinyls can hold between 4-7 tracks each side, so having the extra final track that would bring the total up to an even number would actually make more sense? Like I don't get it? I suppose it was the less popular of the 2 bonus tracks she put out last summer, but even then I really can't see the issue with adding 1 more track to the deluxe edition? If a track really needed to be cut from the record, cut one of the other tracks we hadn't heard yet. It's not like Needless to Say is an emotional love ballad about an ex and she no longer feels that way, it still rings true to the general experience of being a public figure and goes hand-in-hand with the themes brought up by 15 Minutes.

I'm assuming she's pulling a 'Taylor' (whom I LOVE, this is a Swiftie fan page and I know she's not the only one to do this) of stringing out the releases so people have to buy multiple copies of the same album to get the complete set of songs. In terms of streaming I don't want to have to make a playlist to have the complete setlist either, surely in terms of streams it's got to make more sense to have one record with all the streams rather than have your streams split across multiple releases anyway?

The whole multiple Midnights releases and the fact Taylor had to put out a 1989 (Taylor's Version) Deluxe (which still doesn't contain the full tracklist, where is Sweeter Than Fiction? And same goes for Fearless (Taylor's Version) and If This Was A Movie) still rubs me the wrong way. It negates the entire point of the (Taylor's Version)s from the listener's point of view, to have the complete collection, the ultimate deluxe edition of the record with better quality vocals/production (whereas the point for Taylor is obviously to reclaim her masters and also of course, money/reintroducing her back catalog to a new generation).

If I were to rework the tracklist, it would look like this:

Taste

Sharpest Tool

Please Please Please

Good Graces

Bed Chem

Coincidence

Espresso

Dumb & Poetic

Slim Pickins

Juno

Lie To Girls

Don’t Smile

15 Minutes

Busy Woman

Couldn't Make it Any Harder

Please Please Please feat. Dolly Parton

Bad Reviews

Needless to Say

To me, 15 Minutes and Needless to Say work as the bookends of the deluxe album and both discuss themes of fame and its fleetingness, being caught up in it all whilst held in contempt of the court of public opinion - but from different perspectives! To make a comparison to Taylor Swift, an almost I Can Do It With A Broken Heart-esque song and a Nothing New/Castles Crumbling "I'm too soft for all of it" style song. Busy Woman and Couldn't Make it Any Harder are also two faces of the same coin, discussing Sabrina's public perception and private reality of her sexual life. Please Please Please (feat. Dolly Parton)and Bad Reviews, not to intrude on Sabrina's personal life, are both presumably are about her relationship with Barry Keoghan - how she felt whilst dating him, hoping she knows better than her friends and family and not wanting to lose her pride and ego vs the harsh aftermath. Additionally, Needless to Say also works thematically/chronologically after Bad Reviews, as it's not just her friends and family who raised concerns about her dating Keoghan but the general public/her fans as well - and who are we to comment on what life decisions she makes, especially those concerning her private life.

I agree with the singles she chose and the general view that Bed Chem and Busy Woman should be singles, although because of Please Please Please having a feature with Dolly Parton - that was always going to get a music video. I think what they did with it 'kill off' Barry Keoghan's character (keeping in line with the theme that men never survive the Sabrina Carpenter Cinematic Universe also, presumably to save face somewhat on Sabrina's part) was the right call to make. I'm not sure if they could make a music video for Bed Chem and have it still be relatively PG-13, so I think a clip from the Short n' Sweet Tour performance would well here. And then a general tour/2024 recap video for Busy Woman as she's been so productive this last year (clips from the show, behind-the-scenes, rehearsals, costume/set design, general memories, Award shows, interviews, pop-up events, perfume launches) - thus a Busy Woman.

Anyway that's my rant for today, let me know what you think and if I'm barking up the wrong tree entirely here, please let me know *POLITELY* how I've got it wrong and I'll put my hands up and apologise.