#i did get the intervals a bit wrong though

[existencebringsonlypain]

just found out I'm pitch-perfect but only for bird calls

[woso-dreamzzz]

Torn IV

Kewis x Child!Reader

Summary: You zone out sometimes

It was Kristie's fault.

Or, really, Kristie was blaming herself.

Time off from football meant spending time with family which has now transformed into wedding planning.

Wedding planning with Sam was a bit like getting blood from a stone. Sam didn't really care about colour pallets and flower types and patterned tablecloths.

Kristie had to practically hold her hostage every time they sat down to plan and, with all her focus on keeping Sam in one place, you'd kind of slipped through the gaps.

You'd always been an independent player and you'd never had any problem asking for attention when you wanted it but it was up to Kristie and Sam to notice when things went downhill health wise for you.

It was one of the odd days that Sam was out, having another check up on her knee and Kristie was the only one at home with you.

You're playing by her feet, making a series of growls and chirps for your dinosaurs. Helen sits on the table in front of you, absentmindedly cleaning herself.

You go silent suddenly and Kristie leans forward to see why.

You've frozen in place though, staring straight at Helen like you can't even comprehend she's there.

"Chook?" Kristie calls," What is it?"

You don't answer.

"Chook? Chook!"

It can't be more than fifteen seconds before you snap out of it, almost immediately going back to playing with your toys.

Helen mews at you softly and you look up at her in confusion as she wanders over to butt her head against your hand.

"You want to play too, Helen?"

"Chook?"

"Yes, Mommy?"

"Why did you stare at Helen like that?"

You frown, turning to look at Kristie. "No I didn't."

"Chook." Kristie's voice goes firm. "Don't lie."

"I'm not!"

"Chook, I'm not trying to tell you off. I was just curious."

"But I wasn't, Mommy!"

"Chook-"

"I didn't! I didn't!!"

"Chook-"

You get up and run off to your room, slamming it closed with a thump and Kristie sighs deeply at your behaviour.

She pushes the thoughts away though, forgetting about them and not mentioning them at all to Sam. It was just a little thing. It hardly mattered, not when getting Sam to finally decide on the menu for the wedding was more important.

But it's still there in the back of her mind. Somewhere very deep in the very back of her mind because she finds her watching you zone out every so often.

She times it, almost always around fifteen seconds. You zone out randomly, sometimes you blink, sometimes you smack your lips together or jerk your hand in random intervals.

But you don't seem to remember it, immediately going back to what you're doing.

Kristie watches you do it now, at her bedside in the middle of the night. You're just staring at her, blinking randomly and she reaches out for you.

"Chook?" She asks," Chook, baby, are you okay? What's wrong?"

You're still frozen for a little bit before clarity appears in your eyes again and you say," Helen threw up on my floor."

Kristie sighs, whacking Sam on the shoulder, jerking her awake.

"Sam," She says," Helen threw up in Chook's room. We need to clean it up."

"Wha-? Huh?"

"Helen threw up," Kristie repeats," All over Chook's new carpet. We need to clean it."

Sam drags herself out of bed. "I've got it. Come on, Chook. Let's go check on Helen, huh?"

You nod and Kristie gets out of bed too, frowning.

"Chook," She calls as Sam gets to work cleaning up your carpet," Can you come here a sec?"

You pad over obediently, letting Mommy touch your forehead and check down your throat.

"Mommy," You complain," Helen's sick! Not me!"

Kristie's not convinced.

They've been happening on and off for days now. It's a wonder it takes this long for Sam to notice but eventually she does.

It's a quiet day off and, for once, Kristie isn't jumping down her throat at wedding planning.

Sam's planning on relaxing with a movie but she's staring at you instead.

You're staring at her too, technically but you're not really. You've got that glazed-over look in your eyes that your teacher had told Sam about just two days ago when she picked you up from school.

Your teacher told Sam to try to snap you out of your daydreaming but she thinks this is different. You have no concept of what's going on around you.

You have no idea Sam's waving her hand in front of your face.

"Kristie!" She yells out, panicked," Chook's being weird!"

Kristie doesn't seem as panicked when she comes in though, inspecting your face before sighing.

"We need to take her to the doctor."

[rallentando1011]

certain ineffable things

(rise Donnie x touch starved gn reader - little bit of angst, mostly fluff) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lazy circles drawn on hips.

Tender pats on the shoulder or head, conveying much more than mere words.

Nudges of encouragement or of endearment or at least conveying that someone else was there.

Various affectionate displays - all luxuries experienced in the most painfully infrequent intervals.

 At least, they were to you.

Home definitely wasn’t the place to be seeking out stuff like that - your upbringing had all but made certain of that - nor was anywhere with your colleagues or friends. Any time anyone so much as got near, your skin seemed to crawl and spine shivered and-

In short, it seemed an endeavor destined to fail.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t like it. The physical contact part, that was; the yearning and all that was inarguably awful.

But the occasional touch or elbow rub or hug just absolutely made you melt. Only when you felt like it though. And normally only when you initiated it. And typically only with a certain purple clad significant other-

A hand grasped onto yours.

You snapped back to the present, sitting in Donnie’s lab where you’d been idly passing him tools and utensils as needed and he’d been discarding them back into your palm, and where a misunderstanding where each of you thought the other to be passing them something and extended two empty hands made quite the startling connection of the two.

“Sorry!” Your hand retracted as if repulsed by his. “Sorry.”

He jolted on his own accord before looking over at you. “You alright?”

“Are you?”

Donnie blinked. “You shuddered as if I transferred a few thousand volts which, considering my current field of experimentation, is feasible. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all.” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. What a way to get dragged out of a soliloquy. “It just, uh, caught me off guard is all. What about you? You just about leapt out of your seat.”

“All’s good on my end.”

“Yep. Same here.”

“Alright then.”

A terse moment passed. Despite how fervently you hoped he’d turn back to his work and drop the upsettingly awkward conversation, Donnie’s softly confused gaze stayed fixed on you. 

It made your stomach churn in a manner halfway between flustered and unbearable - that was to say, leaving sounded like a viable option.

“You know what? I might go get a snack or something; it’s been a minute since I had anything so...”

“Right. Want me to have S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. fetch you something?”

“No!” You took a deep breath upon realizing you were nearly shouting. “No, that’s quite alright. I don’t mind moving around a little bit.”

“Oh. Okay.” Donnie remained wide-eyed and immobile, tracking you curiously even as you moved for the door. He probably kept that up as long as he could, as long as you were in his sight before going back to work, not that you knew for certain, of course. You had squared your shoulders and rushed out as swiftly as possible, only easing up when you reached the kitchen.

You set straight to work on that snack and a warm drink to help you recuperate.

With a sigh, you prepped a kettle on the stove, leaving it to boil as you ventured mindlessly to the pantry.

After retrieving something to munch on, something easily poppable, you returned to an eagerly whistling kettle, the contents of which you quickly emptied into an eagerly awaiting mug. You plucked a tea bag from the cabinet adjacent to the stove and dunked it in, setting a timer.

As the tea steeped, you tried not to do so in your thoughts. Swimming and swarming uncomfortably through your brain with unpleasant reminders of how unfairly you’d behaved earlier, how unfair the circumstances around how averse you felt toward simple contact were-

No, not going there right now. You busied yourself with snagging pieces of your snack, losing your thoughts under the fervent sound of crunching and grinding and-

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Right. The tea.

Steeping over and tea bag tossed, you gathered your bearings and paused in the doorway. On one hand, you could go back to the lab and talk things out like a sensible person. On the other hand, cowering away in Donnie’s room was also there.

“Psh.” You shook your head lightly at yourself and trudged your way to his room, ever the craven.

You sipped at your earl grey contentedly, navigating around stacks of thick books and planters filled with rich soil and plum-colored tradescantia. Donnie, ever the botanist at heart.

Following the oh-so-perilous journey across his purple-fluorescently lit room, you settled on his mattress. Something struck you as funny in a deprecating sort of way when you sat - going into his room uninvited and making yourself at home on his bed seemed less intimate than simply coming into contact with him. Maybe you were just desensitized to eradicating his personal space but still quite opposed to doing the same with his personal bubble.

Yes, it was funny. Pathetic, too, but ironically funny nonetheless.

You couldn’t remember the last time you purposefully came into contact with someone and liked it. Like, genuinely, when was the last time you were touched?

Yes, sometimes it happened out of necessity - someone helping fasten on a bracelet’s clasp or zip up an outfit or something of the sort - other times it happened by accident - like earlier - but other than that, you hadn’t the foggiest idea of when you’d last sought intentional contact with anyone. All you knew was that it had been a painfully long time which made it a painfully sore subject.

The quiet shuffle of steps made a sudden appearance, ones you could recognize as Donnie’s without even looking up. So you didn’t.

A weight settled a considerable distance away from you on the bed, the sounds of the anxious pops of phalanges and the wringing of wrists making it even more apparent it was him.

You took a long, slow sip of your tea, savoring the last bit of warmth cascading down your throat before deftly discarding the empty mug on his busied nightstand.

You shuffled.

Talking, right? That was what was supposed to, what needed to come next, right?

Hashing it out verbally, coming to a resolution, going back to sitting in the lab with hardly a word exchanged and certainly no skin brushing by skin.

How do you ask someone why they scarcely touch you without sounding inappropriate or impotent? Not exactly a normal thing to ask. Or feel.

And how do you describe the niche feeling of wanting to feel any kind of contact but only under the most specific of circumstances?

Daunting, it was. All of it.

“Do you want to talk about earlier?” Donnie broke the silence.

The shake of your head was nigh indiscernible, but he perceived it nonetheless.

He twiddled his thumbs.

You cleared your throat.

He looked up from his lap.

You cautiously extended your arms out. An invitation to skip the words and go straight to the resolution.

Hesitantly, his hand met yours, the feeling electric, burning as his digits slid across yours to take gentle hold of you.

The two of you met eyes and, upon seeing no disapproval, continued with the utmost care.

You couldn’t recall which one of you moved to lay down first, but the other quickly reciprocated the shift, both of you ending up facing each other on silken violet sheets.

Legs tangled lightly for the purpose of pulling each other closer.

Tridactyl hands lightly glided to your sides, as if handling something delicate.

Yours made their way up, joining together behind his neck.

“I’m being so honest right now: if you want to stop, we’re stopping,” you voiced quietly yet surely.

Lazy circles on your hips drawn by his thumbs drew you in, drawn by thumbs that had increasingly more bravado by the second.

“Seriously, any moment you’re done, we’re done.”

A low hum sounded his amusement.

“Not as in done done, like done with this specific-”

“Respectfully,” Donnie interjected lightheartedly, “shut up. I’m good if you’re good.”

“…”

The silence this time once again carried an awkward air, but it was decidedly less insufferable.

Another second was spent before he cleared his throat, not wanting to misinterpret your silence. “You’re good?”

“Mmhm.”

“Then it’s good.”

With that, you decided his advice to shut up was the best idea you’d heard all day and did so, nuzzling your face into his neck sleepily. The reverberating churr and tighter hold you received in return were exquisite.

Oftentimes words proved to be the best and most concise way to convey a message; however, sometimes actions took that distinction, able to show as opposed to tell certain ineffable things.

[noosayog]

gravitate ft. miya atsumu

wc: 2.2k part 2 of 2

part 1

contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, a lil bit of jealousyyy <3, angst to fluff, suggestive but sfw, she/her! reader, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety

Atsumu thinks he did the right thing. 

It’s the truth after all, that even if he got a committed partner now, he wouldn’t be able to give them the time and attention they deserve. 

It’s the responsible thing to do. 

Never mind the fact that he’s fallen absolutely head over heels for you. It’s okay, though, because you had always seemed so on board with casual. At the end of the day, he’d only be hurting himself by getting more involved with you; you were the better one at drawing boundaries and saying goodbye.

Yet, after that night, he’s never been more grateful for a lull in the season, a brief break before the games begin again. He could dedicate time to practicing and conditioning and more importantly, no games meant no afterparties for him to give himself the wrong idea.

The idea that you might also have feelings for him. 

It’s wishful thinking right? He’s reading into the fact that you asked if he could wear his jersey right? Logically, he couldn’t stop you from wearing it, so why did you ask? Some roundabout way of asking if that would give all your friends the wrong idea? Of course it would. They would never miss out on a chance to clown him. 

All to say, the break in the season gives him some time away from you.

It’s all completely ironic though because all it does is gives him nothing but more time to think about you. The longer his runs are, the more time his brain has to drift to thoughts of you. At the gym, every rest interval between sets is spent remembering your smell, taste, sounds. And rest days, rest days were the worst. 

The time passes excruciatingly slowly and quickly at the same time until the season picks up and your unsaid meeting time comes around again. 

– 

A part of him had expected that you might not show up to the after-game party after what had gone down between the two of you. 

That’s if you even see what happened as note-worthy. 

So when you show up, laughing it up and enjoying yourself like nothing happened, he’s convinced that he did indeed make the right decision. This is and always has been casual to you, like what was agreed upon. It’s like a stab in the chest, but a foolish part of him thinks that means maybe the two of you will casually be drawn together at some point tonight and he’d be able to take you home and get the small piece of you he sees as his. 

But, damn, he had missed you. He can’t help the way his eyes drift to you every 5 minutes to see when he’ll finally be able to catch you alone. 

Typically, it wouldn’t take long, since he knows you tend to run low on social battery within a couple minutes of mingling. But tonight, you’re like a different person, talking and drinking all night. Every time he looks over at you, you’re a part of some circle of friends laughing like you’ve been friends forever. 

As the night drags on, Atsumu gets antsy, glancing over every other minute. He finally catches you when you break away from your group. 

“Hey,” he says, hoping he sounds significantly less – just less – than how he actually feels. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you all night, miss Popular.” 

You raise a brow at him. 

“I haven’t seen you talk to this many people ever,” he jokes. 

You give him a weak smile at that. “So you think catching me during my one and only break is gonna win you any favors?” 

He relaxes a bit at the quip. “My company should count as a break.” 

You laugh and he grins back. At long last, the sound he’d been wanting to hear all night. Not aimed at some stranger, not the forced robotic sounds he knows you offer out of politeness. He’s about to throw his arm around you and lead you to someplace quiet when you seem to catch the eye of someone you know. You wave them over and he suppresses a groan. 

How many more minutes until he can have you to himself? 

A girl he dimly recognizes from some other gatherings wanders over to the two of you and Atsumu’s eyes narrow a fraction when you take half a step back to let her get closer to him. 

“Atsumu, this is Yukie. Yuki, this is Atsumu.” 

“Hi! Nice to meet you!” She comes in for a hug and almost instinctively, Atsumu shifts his body to turn it into a side hug. He pats once at her shoulder before pulling away but she keeps her hold around his side for one second too long to be friendly. 

“Well then,” he hears you say. His gaze whips to you, like knows what you’re about to do and can’t believe you’re doing it. “I’ll leave you kids to talk alone. I need to take a bathroom break. Don’t have too much fun!” 

Don’t have too much fun? He mocks you in his mind. Could you make it any more obvious? 

Atsumu pries the hand from his side off, intent on chasing you but Yukie steps in his path, starting to chat up a storm, leaving Atsumu frustrated but trying not to be rude. Something akin to rage starts to fill up in his gut, clouding his brain with impatience to end this conversation already and find you to figure out the what fuck your intentions are here.

He finally got one moment, just one moment alone with you after weeks of nothing and you just pass it off to someone else like you don’t give a damn. 

It takes several reassurances that he’d be seeing her again at other mutual friends’ gatherings to break away, and he immediately weaves through the crowd to find you. Fuck subtlety and whatever cat-and-mouse bullshit the two of you used to play.

He half expects you to have gone home; he could feel the social exhaustion oozing out of you in waves even in the couple of minutes he did manage to get with you. So imagine Atsumu’s surprise when he does indeed find you still present, chatting up Tobio-kun of all people. Sure, being high school friends with Shoyo-kun means you had the same relationship with Tobio, but why the fuck do you have a hand on his shoulder, doubling over with laughter as if listening to Tobio’s jokes made your whole night of small talk worth it. 

The red hot feeling bubbles over, and before he knows what he’s doing, he stomps over to rip your arm off Tobio’s shoulder. 

“What? You just pawn me off to some other girl so you can go off and find someone else for tonight?” 

Tobio, bless his heart, with all his social ineptitude picks up the cues and makes himself scarce. 

You shake Atsumu’s searing grip from your wrist and put some space between you two, but he’s not having it. He steps even closer, backing you up until you hit the wall. Suddenly, the hallway seems too empty, too quiet. Atsumu doesn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears anyway. 

You only look at him for a moment before closing your eyes and turning away. “What are you talking about, Atsumu? It's not that seri-” 

“It is and you fuckin’ know it.” 

“Atsumu, I don’t think this is the place to talk about this– ” 

“So come over to mine. Let’s talk.” 

“Atsumu…” 

“Please,” he’s damn near begging, one degree from being on his knees.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

He grabs your chin and forces you to look right into his eyes. “And why not? I think we both know something happened tonight that we need to talk about.” 

“Tonight?” you echo. You slap his hands away and shove at his chest, forcing him half a step back. “Something happened last time too and you didn’t seem to wanna talk about it then. Well, now it’s my turn to tell you. Nothing happened tonight, so there’s nothing to talk about.” 

His chest aches, so much so that he can’t get any words out as he processes what you’ve just said. So he didn’t do the right thing after all. 

The aching intensifies hearing you refer to whatever went down tonight between you two as “nothing.” 

He takes a deep, heavy inhale before eking out, “don’t say that, baby. I’m sorry. Can we please talk about this?” 

“I don’t want to. In fact, Atsumu, I don’t think we should-” see each other anymore. 

“No,” he cuts you off. “Whatever it is you’re about to say, my answer is no and that’s final.” 

“And what I want doesn’t matter?”

“It does! But I won't allow you to make that decision for us until we talk properly.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

“Just-” 

What should he say? What can he say? He’s running out of words to convince you and you’re not budging. It’s pure panic that arises in his throat when he watches you desperately try to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

He grips tighter. He has a feeling that if he gives up now, it would be that easy for you to venture beyond his reach. You’d never come to another one of these gatherings. Maybe he’d get a glimpse of you at a game against Tobio, you wearing an Adlers jersey with a #20 printed in the back and fuck- 

That’s such a terrible image, he almost feels like physically doubling over to soothe the stabbing jealousy in his chest. 

“I love you,” he utters out. 

“What?” 

His forehead comes down to rest on yours, pouring out his entire being into those three words again. “I love you.” 

“Atsumu! That is not casual!” you whisper urgently. 

He can’t help but laugh. It’s a mixture of relief that the confession has finally freed itself from the confines of his ribcage and at your alarmed but adorably frank comment. 

“No,” he agrees. “It’s not.” 

“So then… why did you�� that night…” 

“That night, I was an idiot that didn’t realize how much I felt for you. I took for granted that I’d always be able to see you again like this and have you like I always have. But I don’t wanna live on hope or ‘next time’ anymore. I wanna know that I can and when I will see you again.” 

Foreheads still pressed against another, he leaves you with nowhere to run. You close your eyes. He does too. 

“So will you please come home with me so we can figure this out together?” 

Much like that very first night at the bar, you waver between going back out to the party or staying with him. He sees the indecision in your eyes and for those few moments, he walks on a tightrope and you hold the scissors. 

“Okay,” you whisper, so quiet it barely makes a sound. 

–

“Missed you so damn much.” 

“Atsumu, wait-” 

It’s immediate when his door swings open. Suddenly, you’re pressed against the wall and the door slams shut. Atsumu pushes closer one leg forcefully opening yours up and picking you up by the thighs. With nowhere to run, you wrap your legs around his waist and open up for Atumu to deepen the kiss. 

“Thought we were gonna talk,” he hears you say between breaths. 

“Later,” he rasps, kissing you harder and starting to rock his hips against you. “Missed you so fuckin’ much.” 

“Me too,” you admit quietly and that’s all you get to say before you succumb to his desperation. 

– 

“You know,” you say, much later that night as you rest your cheek on his chest. “You still owe me an explanation. Just ‘cause we slept together doesn’t mean I totally forgive you.” 

Atsumu considers making a quip about how you being here with him, drawing indiscernible patterns on his torso with your finger, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, smelling like him is making it look pretty good for him, but he figures he flew way to close to the sun for today. 

“I know. And I promise we’ll talk more. No more dinin’ and dashin’ in the mornin’, yeah?” 

You consider this for a moment, before propping both arms on his chest and resting your head on your fists thoughtfully. 

He thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Just so I don’t misunderstand anything again-”

“You’re not misunderstanding anything, I promise.”

“I know, but I have to hear it.” 

“Will you be my wife?” 

“Atsumu!” 

“Okay, okay sorry. We’ll do that later then. Can we start with girlfriend?” 

“Hmm… I’ll need to think about it. Not sure how I feel about a guy who goes straight to home plate before he even takes me out to dinner.” 

“Y’know what, now that you mention it, I don’t know how I feel about a girl who goes home with a guy she just met-” 

“Shut up.” you snort and something’s definitely not right because every sound you make is the most adorable thing. He swears he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“And ‘Tsumu?” 

Lovestruck, he croons, “yeah, darlin’?” 

“I’d love to be your fiance.” 

“That’s my girl.”

[icycoldninja]

Dating Akutagawa headcannons

A/N: Yes I have become obsessed with BSD and yes I will be updating my list of characters.

-The biggest tsundere you will ever have the pleasure of meeting.

-Denies that he is in love with you, yet he can't stand the thought of forgetting to kiss you goodnight even once.

-Prepare to endure hours of his coughing, at random times, in random intervals, because he never wants to take his medicine.

-Doesn't like PDA in any form; if you want to show your love while others are around, do it through actions like getting him some tea or something.

-Will visit you at random hours of the night just to make sure you're doing well.

-Uses Rashomon as "extra arms" with which he will hug you. It's amazingly warm and comfy, being wrapped up like that.

-Prefers being the big spoon, but more often than not, he ends up being the little spoon.

-You're the only person he lets address him as Ryunosuke; anyone else will die.

-Doesn't like using nicknames for you for some reason, only occasionally calling you "my sweet", though that's only in rare instances where he's in a particularly good mood.

-When he looks at you, his scrunched up, angry turtle-like expression relaxes for a bit and he looks truly happy for once.

-Loves drinking tea with you in the mornings before he goes to work and at night after dinner.

-Sometimes he will tell you about what's troubling him and ask for advice, but it's rare, and if he does do this, you can be sure something is wrong.

-Would greatly appreciate it if you did his laundry.

-Hopes you get along with his sister, because he wants you all to be a happy family.

-Sometimes has nightmares about what Dazai did to him and wakes up screaming. He'll then snuggle up to you and lay there until you either wake up or realize he needs cuddles and give him what he wants.

[lowkeyrobin]

Headcanons for mcyt x reader doing a cooking/baking stream together??

I love your writing!!!

<3

ooooo okay okay!!! yes of course bro ; also thank you!! I appreciate it sm 🫶🫶🫶🫶

MCYT ; cooking/baking stream

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, grease fires

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you guys were making lasanga

Garfield jokes every five minutes

there's pasta sauce and cheese everywhere

he's constantly screaming to the viewers because you keep slapping him with the lasagna sheets, cooked or dry

"y/n! help! I'm being assaulted with lasagna sheets!"

he stained his shirt with pasta sauce 💀💀

almost set the house on fire bc he somehow left shit in the oven before preheating it

you turn on music halfway through and it turns into a karaoke stream

"CALIFORNIA GIRLS WERE UNFORGETTABLE-"

RANBOO

you were making soup because you found a good recipe you wanted to try

you accidently spilled the broth and covered your legs in it

he cut himself chopping up the celery (very minor cut dw)

"cooking stream? more like we injure ourselves for two hours stream"

"cooking stream? I hardly know her"

very chaotic but very good soup

during the intervals where you guys were just waiting for things to cook, you started a hashtag on Twitter to ask you guys stuff

and you answered them while keeping an eye on the food

afterwards you guys watch TV and eat your food while still streaming

"normalize eating on stream 2024!"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you were making breakfast for dinner on stream

you had to go use the bathroom while the bacon was cooking and left Freddie to tend to everything for less than a minute

and he started a grease fire.

after he got it extinguished he kinda just stood there waiting for you

meanwhile chat was exploding with panic and laughter

"Hey, y/n, I don't think we're having bacon tonight!"

"What the fuck happened???"

luckily no damage to anything other than the meat

the rest of it was really good though, and the stream had enough action for tonight 💀💀

NIKI NIHACHU

you guys were making cupcakes

you dropped like two eggs 💀💀💀 so while she was getting new ones you were cleaning up all the eggshell fragments and the insides

you got the camera to show stream your fucking mess and someone sent a dono saying "butterfingers ass"

the cackling after that 💀

you're able to get them into the oven though

and while you're waiting for them to cook, you watch dance moms and discuss everything wrong with it

commentary youtubers? I hardly know them

she begins making the icing while you pull the cupcakes out to let them cool

10/10 cupcakes they're amazing

you guys had a pride flag theme so lmao

ALEX QUACKITY

you were supposed to be making pancakes as a little challenge

his are literally raw and he put chocolate chips from the freezer straight in them

"that banana isn't gonna help anything"

"how do you know that??"

flour is everywhere. it looks like a war started

you put to much non-stick spray on the skillet and started a little fire

but Alex to the rescue dw

he couldn't even figure out how to use it and almost sprayed himself in the face!

goes on Twitter later to update that your kitchen was completely fine but the underneath of your microwave is a tiny bit melted

you blame him every time after that 💀💀

"my microwave melted a bit because you don't know how to use a fire extinguisher!"

"youre the one who used too much spray!"

chat always sides with you, too 😭😭

FOOLISH GAMERS

you thought making fried rice was a good idea? wrong

he literally has no idea what's happening

"can you make the scrambled eggs for me while I tend to the vegetables?"

"how many?"

"they're literally on the cabinet"

chat clipping every single funny moment too

"is the rice cooker even on? holy shit you left it on warm"

"I thought that meant it was on!"

"dude you've used this thing before, how long did it take for you to cook it?"

"like, forever"

"oh my god"

fried rice 10/10

he's complaining about the vegetables like he didn't have like two hours to say something about different veggies

[niabang]

Club Sessions

Pairings: Bangchan × fem reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Your boyfriend decided it would be fun to see how long you could hold up with a vibrator in you for the entire day.

Warnings: Smut included (MINORS DNI.), soft dom chan, sub reader, use of sex toys, semi public sex?, edging/overstim, unprotected sex (I'm sure y'all don't want babies)

You and your boyfriend were what people would call adventurous, risk takers, and maybe even crazy.

You couldn't disagree with them though because you were out in public, a club to be precise, with a vibrator deep in your pussy, and your boyfriend was constantly playing with the controls making you drop down at different intervals.

How did you get here? Well, it started as kind of a "punishment" for you being too feisty earlier today, and you had it in you all morning while doing your chores.

You were also very stubborn and told chan that you'd be able to take it just to get a reaction out of him, and you got what you wanted when he suggested that you keep it in for the whole day.

"But aren't we going out today?" You asked your boyfriend.

"What difference does that make?" He replied to your question with a question.

"Aren't people gonna know?" You asked.

"How would they know? Is this you trying to say you can't take it?" He knew exactly how to make you agree with him.

"I don't know how many times I'm going to tell you that I can take it, Chan." You said in a bit of a rude tone, and he turned up the settings just to make you eat your words.

"Okay, then be quiet and take it like a good girl." He said and placed a kiss on your forehead, then went to go do whatever he was doing.

Your boyfriend left the vibrator in the same setting for a while, and that made you think he had forgotten about you.

Just as you were celebrating internally, he turned the setting up as if he knew and you started having trouble standing.

He took it back to the lowest setting after a while and called you upstairs, where he told you to get on the bed.

You got so happy because you thought he was finally going to give in and fuck you.

You were so pathetic. You moaned just from him spreading your legs, and all this man did was take out the vibrator.

He was insane. Your pussy was pulsing and clenching around nothing and he didn't seem to care.

"Don't wanna wear you out too much before we leave." He said as he took it out of you.

Your boyfriend might have been mean, but he wasn't evil.

You both started getting ready to leave, and he called you to his work desk when you were fully dressed.

"Baby, can you come here for me." He said, tapping his desk.

When you sat down, you guys had a mini make-out sesh to prep you for the vibrator.

"Are you ready?" He asked you.

You nodded your head, and he proceeded to put it in you.

"I'm not going to turn it on till we get there, okay?" He said while you guys were in the car.

He actually stayed true to his words and turned it on just as you were getting out of the car.

You almost fell, and you heard him laugh from the front seat.

You were so not going to survive this.

You both went out with friends and naturally split into groups of men and women, so everyone was doing their own thing.

You were having a drink and a conversation with your girls when you felt the setting go a bit higher, and you almost choked.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Your friend Melanie asked you, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Drink almost went down the wrong pipe, that's all." You reassured your friend.

You looked around the crowd of people in search of your boyfriend, and you caught him laughing and drinking with his friends well aware of the suffering he was causing you.

Time passed, and chan was going up and down with the controls, which made you lie to your girls and tell them you were beginning to get a slight tummy ache.

You managed to keep on dancing, but it seemed chan wasn't too happy with that because he turned it up to the highest setting, and this time, he left it there.

"Oh my God." You said, and you had to squat because you really couldn't take it anymore. So much for all your smack talk.

Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes.

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay?" Your friend Melanie asked you again.

You shook your head in a no motion, and the next thing you knew, Melanie was going to get chan for you.

The next thing you felt were two strong hands picking you off the floor, and you knew it was Chan.

"Let's go." He said into your ear and dragged you along with him.

That was how you ended up in the bathrooms.

"Oh, baby, don't cry." He said as he placed you on the counter and wiped your tears.

"Do you want me to take it out?" He asked you sounding concerned, but you knew it was all fake. He loved seeing you suffer.

You nodded your head and at your signal chan reached under the black mini dress you were wearing, slid your panties to the side, and then took the vibrator out, making you moan.

"Chan, please." You said after he put the vibrator in his pocket and was about to leave.

"Please, what?" He asked you.

"I need you." You replied.

"Okay, baby, let's get back home first."

"No Chan please I need you now." You whined.

"But we can't go here, baby someone might walk in." He said while leaving kisses all over your neck.

He was getting you too riled up for someone who was disagreeing.

"It doesn't matter." You told him.

"Oh, you naughty girl. Come here." You finally got what you wanted as chan wrapped a hand around your throat and started kissing you hungrily. You couldn't help but moan.

He brought you down from the counter and helped you take off your panties.

"Baby, I'm going to need you to be quiet for me, okay?" He parted your lips, scrunched your underwear, and then put it into your mouth to act as a gag.

He then turned you around and bent you over the counter. He rolled your dress up so your ass and cunt were exposed to him and you heard him groan.

He gave himself a few pumps and told you he was going to be fast.

It was almost as if you weren't stretched out and violently edged for hours because all chan could talk about was how tight you were and how well you wrapped around his cock.

Chan was moving in and out of you fast and hard, and he just knew how to hit that spot.

The panty he shoved in your mouth was practically useless because he had to use one hand to cover your mouth, too.

It wasn't your fault he was a literal sex god.

Chan let you cum so easily he probably felt bad about edging you for so long. Your legs were shaking at your release, and he took your panties out of your mouth and put them in his pocket.

He pulled your dress down and wiped your tears. Plus, a kiss on your forehead. He always gave you kisses whenever you guys were done.

"Let's go home." He said to you.

"What about our friends?" You asked him because it'd be rude to leave without letting them know.

"We'll tell them that you got sick, let's go." You both made your way to the car.

There was just something about chan. He always made sure you finished first or together. He didn't bother if he didn't get to. He always said he was happy as long as you did.

"Chan, you didn't finish." You said as you buckled your seat belt.

"It's fine. I'm good as long as you're good." He said while starting the engine.

"Use me." You said to him.

"Huh?" He asked you.

"Fuck me the way you want to and use me to cum." You told him meaning every bit of it.

"Fuck." Chan said and took off his seat belt.

Thank God it was late in the night, and your windows were tinted.

[mothwingwritings]

Release

F!Reader X Ren Hana

Hello everyone!!! Back at it again with a new Boyfriend To Death fic ❤

I know what you might be saying. “Wow another BTD fic based around a collar, real original Moth” BUT in my defense I actually wrote this one before the story I wrote for Strade. My brain barfed this out a few months ago (when I finished playing through Ren’s route for the first time) but I wanted to make something Christmas-esque because it was December, so Strade’s story came out first.

Regardless, I had a lot of fun writing both, so I hope you enjoy them too! ❤

Though there is nothing overtly sexual in this, due to the subject nature of this fic this story is 18+ ONLY please!!!

Warnings: imprisonment, abuse (physical and mental), reader has some extreme Stockholm syndrome going on, incredibly unhealthy relationship, biting, blood, reader gets hurt, mentions of sex, I guess maybe petplay potentially??? (what with the collar and all).

Thank you for reading!

“Okay… You promise you’ll be a good girl, right? No funny business?”

Despite being perched on soft carpet, your legs ached from kneeling on them for the past half hour. You kept your back pin straight and your shoulders even, your hands neatly folded in your lap. His voice was cheery as he spoke down to you, playful even, but you knew Ren well enough to know that these next moments were crucial. With him, even the most benign moments could turn at the drop of a hat.

“I promise Ren. I’ll be good.”

Your voice was soft as you responded to him, big doe eyes looking up at the beastkin in expectation. Your promise wasn’t a lie- you always intended to be good for him, striving to do so even when the situation made that nearly impossible. You bit your bottom lip apprehensively, a slight shiver wracking Ren’s body when you did so. He was watching you just as closely as you were him, drinking in your form, honing in on each and every move of your body and change of expression. 

He smiled at you, that sad half smile he always got when he was grappling with his inner emotions. “I know you will. You are always good for me… To me…” He hesitated for a moment, staring with trepidation at the key that lay in his hand. It was no bigger than his pinky, but seemed to weigh him down regardless.

“I’m just, um, nervous I guess. But I’m not sure why? It’s not like taking it off is gonna change anything,” Though he laughed to dispel the tension, it had the opposite effect, his nerves palpable as he fidgeted where he stood.

For a moment you thought he was going to go back on his word. Tell you to forget about it and toss the shock collar’s key aside, leaving you stuck in it for another day. Part of you wondered if that would even matter. Ren was right, nothing truly would change, collar or not.

… But still, you couldn’t help but hope. That cruel, nagging feeling swelled up in your heart, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Your heart beat like a drum in your chest and sweat slicked your brow as you watched him nervously turn the key around in his palm, your fate in his hands as he mulled the decision over.

It had been months now that the collar had been around your neck, heavy and overbearing, a constant, torturous reminder of your new life. He had only allowed it to come off in brief intervals when you showered or when you slept so that you could find some comfort as you laid next to him, caged in by his embrace. Otherwise it wrapped around your neck like a noose, and even though these days its intended purpose was hardly necessary, Ren kept it firmly in place. He was too afraid to keep it off you for long, worried that given the choice you would abandon him too.

But you wouldn’t. For better or worse, whatever twisted feelings Ren had harbored for you, you now shared for him-all of his ardent affections reciprocated. Deep inside you knew this all was wrong, and it would be a blatant lie if you said you no longer felt any fear or sadness over all that had transpired (all that continues to transpire) while he held you in captivity. Even so, none of that dulled the fact that at this point you craved his touch, yearned for his smile, and wanted nothing more than his companionship and love to get you through the lonely struggle life had become.

After spending months with him as your only companion, you had grown to care deeply for Ren. Though the experience was often terrifying and confusing, you had learned to place your trust in him as he watched over you the past half year, relying on him for all your needs and necessities. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about him. And the more you learned, the more you began to open up to him. 

After a certain point, love began to blossom.

That feeling flourished within, growing so unruly that even his moments of torment and cruelty were accepted with open arms. It took you awhile to realize it, but you now understand that everything Ren does he does for your benefit. Whether he was treating you like a princess or teaching you a harsh lesson, Ren did everything in his power to make sure you were cared for, protected, and aware. Life wasn’t always fair and kind, it was better to be taught that at the hands of someone who loved you then to experience it unexpectedly out in the wild.

Looking back on it now, you were a fool not to appreciate him sooner. All the fussing and fighting you did when he first brought you home seemed completely ridiculous now. He took you in, let you live in a nice home, prepared you home cooked meals every day, and lavished you in affection even when you were being stubborn and didn’t deserve it.

For all that he is and all that he has done for you- the good and bad alike- he deserved nothing but your wholehearted devotion in return. Thinking about the past made you cringe but you refused to let yourself get caught up in it, doing your best every day to be good for him and make up for your prior indiscretions. He loved you with all that he is, poured his soul into caring for you and keeping you content. No past lover had ever treated you with the loyalty or attention that Ren had, and you were thankful for that.

 His happiness had become your happiness. To risk the life you had built together by taking advantage of his kindness was unthinkable.

But even with your steadfast dedication to him, he still continued to mull over this decision with a deep scowl plastered on his face. An ache blossomed in your chest. Surely he had to realize by now that he was just as precious to you as you were to him? You pouted a bit as you watched him agonize over the situation, your heart hurting to see him have such a lack of faith in your bond.

“… Ren?”                                                                                    

Your questioning voice caught his attention, dragging his focus away from the key he was clutching in his sweaty grip. The moment you had grabbed his attention, you slowly began scooting closer to him, your knees itching as they scratched against the fibers of the fancy carpet. Once you neared him, you raised your hands till they cupped his, gently enveloping his shaky fist in your warm hold. You pulled his hand towards your mouth, delicately kissing each of his fingers as you stared up into his eyes.

“If you don’t want to take it off, you don’t have to,” you smiled at him genuinely, your lips lingering on his thumb before you pulled away. You felt a shiver pass through him as his eyes grew hazy, boring into yours with growing intensity, “I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable, so it’s OK. I am not upset, we can keep it on another day-“

“No.”

Your eyes widened at the assuredness in his voice, all previous concern nonexistent. “No… It’s time to take it off. It’s only getting in the way at this point. Just… Gimme a second, OK?”

He positioned himself behind you, nervous hands fumbling as he worked to remove the collar. After several seconds of poking and prodding, a loud ‘click’ came from the back of your neck followed by a small thud as the heavy collar fell from your body, colliding with the carpeted floor.

Your hand’s shot up to touch your exposed skin, a shiver coursing through you as the cold air hit your sweaty flesh. Tears began to well in your eyes as the realization donned on you. You were free. You had been a good girl for Ren and he rewarded you for it, just like you knew he would.

“W-well,” you heard Ren stutter above you, clearly a bit nervous about what may happen next, “What do you think? How does it feel?”

“It feels amazing,” your voice warbled as you still got used to the sensation. Its absence was foreign and exciting and you couldn’t help but break out in a huge, elated grin. “Thank you Ren. Thank you so much.”

He lowered himself in front of you, crouching on his knees. “Can I see?” A hint of worry still remained in his timid voice, fearful that you may still end up rejecting him.

You looked to him with a smile and nodded, baring your neck for him to witness. “Of course! I probably look a little bit different without it on, huh?”

“Pretty…” His voice was breathless as he dragged his fingers gingerly across the freed skin of your neck. His pupils dilating slightly as he felt you shudder under his touch. “So, so pretty… But also, a little barren, don’t you think?”

Your breath caught at the insinuation, a small wave of panic causing your body to tense. Did he regret his decision after all? Was he going to put the collar back on? You had told him it was fine if he decided that, and you weren’t someone who went back on their word, but at the same time… that was before you experienced it. Now that you realized how good it felt without that horrible, weighty reminder clinging to your skin, you dreaded the thought of it attached to your body once more.

An airy chuckle fell from his lips as he noted your reaction. He leaned in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as he brought his mouth close to your ear.

“Don’t worry pumpkin, I’m not going to put it back on. But I do hate the idea of you walking around without something on your body to signify that you’re mine, you know?” His caress traveled from your cheek, his right hand snaking around your head to cradle it, pulling you closer to him. His free hand wrapped around your waist, which kept you flush against him.

“I want to give you something better than that collar,” his voice had become strained, lithe fingers curling up to entangle in your hair, tugging roughly on the strands at the base of your neck. “I want you to have something personal, something that will look perfect on you.”

Without another word, he latched himself to your neck. Not in a kiss, but a harsh, powerful bite.

You gasped as his sharp incisors dug themselves into your flesh, a wave of pain causing tears to flood your eyes. You pressed your fists against his chest, biting down on your trembling bottom lip in an effort to hold back your cries.

Warm blood trickled from the wound as he detached himself, a vibrant trail snaking from the puncture wound to slither down your neck. His tongue stopped it before it hit your collar bone, leaving a wet, sloppy streak across your neck as he licked up the mess.

“This is much better, right?” He asked tentatively, his fingers traveling down to trace the wound he had inflicted. Blood coated his fingertips as he ran them over the injury, his breath hitching as he smeared you with crimson, “prettier… you are so pretty, (name)…”

“T-thank you Ren,” you flinched at the movement of his fingers, shuddering as he pressed down on the open wound, “It’s much better.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pivoting your head slightly so that he could nuzzle into the unmarred side, “but it’s not perfect yet, there needs to be more.”

Another abrupt bite sunk into your flesh. This time you couldn’t help but cry out, blubbery whimpers tumbling from your quivering lips. You felt Ren shiver against you, your reactions eliciting an excited moan from him that was muffled by your flesh in his jaw. The hold his teeth had on you eventually yielded, but the assault of his mouth did not. Feverish kisses pressed against the new wound, his tongue lapping at the blood as it muscled its way across the puncture. You whined at the sensation, waves of pain emanating from the weeping, gory wounds as he continued to aggravate them.

When he finally pulled away tears had already begun to fall freely down your cheeks. Though he had given your neck a much needed break, you were given no time to collect yourself as he proceeded in pressing his lips firmly to yours. The taste of copper flooded your tongue as he deepened the kiss, forcibly pushing himself against you until you had no choice but to lean backwards, your back falling flat against the floor as he crawled overtop you.

He placed his hands on either side of you, his legs straddling your hips as he sat himself atop you. You were effectively caged in when his lips parted from your own, and though his face was obscured in shadows, you could clearly see a swath of your blood spread across his mouth. It perfectly complimented the animalistic hunger in his eyes, his mischievous fox like features seeming far more sinister than normal as he leered down at you.

If you didn’t know any better, you would fear he was going to eat you alive.

“I want to mark you in all kinds of ways, (Name),” His tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, a sliver of pink peeking through the red, “I want to mark you to show you how much I love you. I want you to be able to look at every inch of your body and be reminded of me. That way even if we get separated, you won’t be lonely. You’ll have a constant reminder of how much I love you.”

A serene smile spread across his face as he looked at you, the vibrancy of his blush nearly matching the blood that coated his mouth and chin. He shifted a bit above you, the feel of his hardening cock unmistakable as it pressed against your pelvis.

“I love you,” his voice wavered as he leaned closer towards you, unsteady breaths fanning your face as his lovesick eyes drank you in. His lips were teasingly close to yours as he continued to smile down at you, a small, happy laugh tumbling from his lips as his tail began to swish behind him in excitement.

“I’m so glad I made you mine.”

[klutzyroses]

Thank you for taking requests! I love your work!! Could I have headcanons for Jean, Comte, Dazai, and Issac getting in an argument with you? Over what and how would they feel about it later? Thank you!

Thank you for the kind words!💖

IkeVamp HCs: Argument with S/O

How do they feel after having a disagreement with their s/o and how do they fix it?

Suitors: Isaac, Dazai, Jean, Comte

Isaac

Isaac is far from the confrontational type, he's barely the conversational type to be honest.

Maybe the biggest source of tension between him and his beloved would possibly be his lack of self care.

Sometimes, he just gets so absorbed in his work that he forgets to feed himself. And for someone like Isaac? With aberrant needs? The disasters that could follow...

Sometimes, Y/N can't help but get a little frustrated by that and it may lead to an argument.

He won't be mean per se, but he would be more argumentative than one would usually expect from him.

Afterwards, he would feel so bad though. He himself probably only got snippy with her because he felt defensive. But he would berate himself for snapping at her when she was just trying . Harshly.

But perhaps after she approaches him and the first words out of his mouth are words of apology, before she even has a chance to speak. Sheepishly, timidly, he will reconcile with her the best he can.

Dazai

Dazai was not a argumentative man, by any stretch of the imagination. He was a very passive person and avoided conflict like the plague, be it through humor or simply making himself scarce.

If he was to argue with his beloved over anything, it would likely be over his habit of disappearing at random intervals for long periods of time without a word about where he was going or when he would be back.

This did cause his love to worry herself silly about him and get frustrated at the seeming lack of regard he has for her.

Most arguments with Dazai could be very...one-sided. He wasn't good with confrontation, and he didn't want to upset his love any further than he already had, so his immediate recourse is to step out of the situation. Through the nearest window.

Of course, even as he was leaving, he knew he was breaking her heart before he is even fully through the threshold.

But really, he's just worried to say something that could hurt her worse than him just leaving. He genuinely didn't want to risk possibly snapping at her or hurting her feelings.

He will make himself scarce for a bit, partially to self blame, but mostly trying to find his words, but when he does, he will be the one to seek Y/N out and make it right.

This usually means by whisking her away where they can be alone, just the two of them. Preferably in the hydrangea gardens.

Jean

Jean was a bit of a complicated man and just a bit...socially oblivious at times.

As a result, he might not be entirely aware of how hurtful something he says might be. He isn't trying to be hurtful, he's just...blunt.

A common source of contention is his habit of pushing others away when something was wrong.

He doesn't mean it in cruelty, it's just that he is so used to it that it has become reflex.

And while his love is consciously aware of that, it doesn't make it hurt any less when he becomes cold towards her, and it is completely valid for her to get upset, even if it results in conflict.

Jean, isn't confrontational that way, he doesn't get into arguments with people. He deals with swords, not words, so likely, fighting with his lover will not go over well because he will just...shut down, in a way.

He feels terrible of course and thinks of all the ways he can make it up to her. He never intends to hurt her, it just...happens.

Its only when he has received advice from Napoleon that he makes it up to her the best way he knows how...attempting to bake marorons for her.

Comte

He was hardly an easily angered man, but even he had his less than proud moments.

Firstly if he was to get into an argument with Y/N, he would never enter it while angry. If he is somehow upset with Y/N in anyway, a rare occurrence to begin with, he certainly isn't going to argue with her until he is calmer.

The man has been alive long enough to know how to avoid a confrontation, so fighting with him already isn't likely.

But, nobody is perfect. If he got into a disagreement with his cherie over anything, maybe it'd be their future, uncertain as it is. The future of a human and a pureblood vampire. She perhaps would want to discuss certain aspects of the distant future he doesn't want to think about, thus he dodges any attempts.

That could likely cause tension, but to be frank, Comte probably wouldn't even allow it to come to an argument. He would be aware of the changes in her expression, body language, her tone, indicators that may alert him to the risk of a confrontation and would immediately move to mediate, rather than escalate.

He would keep his tone level and soothing, making sure not aggravate her any further, smoothly directing the conversation away from the topic until she is more at ease.

He hides it well, but he himself was quite tense, even after the danger has passed. Yes, it didn't actually become an argument, but potentially upsetting his love to the point of a fight would have him unsettled, even if it didn't actually happen.

He doesn't want to upset his cherie, he wants her to be happy, which is why he doesn't speak carelessly. Words have power, after all.

🌸

[bellsartblog]

Sept-ingo day 23: different universe with ingo and ingo and ingo and emmet hop the multiverse by @subway-boss-jericho

ok so, part of this post was made when my thumbs was still healing. i thought if my thumbs couldn't work, i still had my other fingers so i gonna try writing sth >:"))) but i'm like really ass though so :"))) tell me how i do :))) i wanna improve this skill of mine as well for future uses.

𖨠──··· At the train station ···──𖨠

no beta read :"))) it's a reunion fic :)))

This place was.... very familiar. It's circular in shape and crowds of people and trainers were rushing to and from the large arches surrounding this space. How Ingo know which person were trainers and which were not was beyond him. 

Chimes were going on and off every now and then with rumblings of something big going by in between each interval. all of which was behind the wall he was leaning on. Ingo stands to the side of this strange circular place, preferring to stick to the brick walls so that he won't get swept into the crowds of busy people. being in such a chaotic and strange space but he can't help but find himself at peace. 

He stood just a bit taller than he would usually and allowed himself back in Hisui. Peering through the crow, he tries to search for a girl in the similiar survey corp uniform and a white bandana on her head. Akari was the one that brought him here in the first place, but she ran toward the tall pillar in the middle to try and buy some tickets for them both.  No, not Akari. It's Dawn now.   

"I'll be back! don't go anywhere" and she was off before he could deliver his own message. but it has been a while since then so he was getting a bit anxious. Nothing had changed much in the last minutes or so and the anticipation was eating at him. maybe he should go look for her... but going off the established place would make it hard for her to find him if she was already going back- 

"Hello sir!" 

a booming voice shocked him out of his almost spiral. the source of which stood just an arm length from him. Someone that wears the same coat as his! but it was shinier and more well-kept. And his face bored resemblances of his own but.... if he was younger. Was he that old already?  

"May I help you?" 

"Most certainly! I'm Subway Boss Ingo" The man gestured to himself then to his side where another man who looks like his matching copy stood. "And this is my brother, Subway Boss Emmet! We were hoping-" 

to be honest, most of what this fellow said went over ingo's head because Emmet was all he cared about right now. It was him, the man in white! His hand reached out on its own but with closer inspection, ingo slowly noticed and he withdrew his hand.  

There were smaller inconsistencies, the strips on his coat were cyan when it was supposed to be brownish-red like his. And the emblem, one of the signifiers that helped him identify himself, was different also! Two arrows, one pointed up while the other pointed down. There were more, like his tie and his hair. It was all different! All... wrong? 

“You aren’t listening” Emmet stated. Though his smile didn’t change much, and his tone was even as ever, but somehow Ingo just knew this man was being cheeky with him, "too much on your head, perhaps?” 

“Ah yes” ingo blushed a bit “my deepest apologies, I thought you were someone else.” he nodded toward Subway Boss Ingo. To which he gave a short wave. 

“No worries, Sir! It hasn’t been the first time” the man gave him a small smile. Wait, what did he mean by not the first time? “But to summarize, we were wondering why you were standing here all by yourself and we wanted to ask if you would like some assistance.”  

“Thank you but there would be no need.” Ingo stood straight, mirroring the bosses’ posture,” I came here with my niece, you see and -” realization came to him like a freight train. His niece! He was about to go look for her when the duo interrupted him. 

“Apologies but I have to go!” Ingo pushed past the bosses and dashed for the pillar in the middle of the room. But he was pulled back before he could enter the crowd. He glared at the hand holding him, it was Emmet’s. “What do you think you are doing? Unhand me!” 

Ingo shooked his hand to break free of the man’s grasp but to no avail. “i must go get her. She could be lost herself!”  

“Nope.”  Instead, with a smile, Emmet pulled him back to them and closer to the wall. Letting his arm go, Ingo pulled his hand back. Emmet and his Ingo stood in front of him, blocking his way to the pillar. Subway Boss Ingo said “Please stay behind the yellow line! you’ll get lost if you join the line with that train. And about your niece, it’s Dawn, correct?” 

“h-how did you know?” the air must not be traveling to his head because did he just hear the man spoke her name?  

“Like we mentioned, it hasn’t been the first time.” The Subway Boss gave him a small smile, one that only he could make from his own frown. “Now, if you’ll please follow us, we’ll help you reach the ticket booth.” 

As promised, the bosses and him weaved through the crowd with no fanfare, though somehow the road to the booth was a long one. 

Along the way, they didn’t talk much but he did get to see more people that dressed like him. More Ingos and Emmets, some were traveling in pairs, some were with companions! Pokemons and humans alike (he noted that the black hair woman seemed to appear a lot), some were traveling alone, waiting like he was.  

All of which didn’t help reawake any memories for Ingo but among the sea of self, ingo didn’t felt that lonely in his lost and confusion. For once in a long time, the hope in him was reignited and maybe he would get to go home.  

The pace slowed and stopped all together. Being closer, the size of the pillar finally dawned on him. It was enormous, ingo couldn’t see the top floor eve when craning his head up all the way. At the front of the pillar were a grand arch and neat queues of people lining in front of it. 

“we are here!” Emmet said, “Now to find your niece.” he climbed on his brother back, placed his hand above his eyes and gleamed over the lines. His older brother, while bend over, let out a deep sigh. 

“UNCLE INGO!” 

All three men looked over to find the girl they were looking for running at them. She ran straight to Ingo, giving him a big hug. So big that it almost toppled him over. “i’m sorry for making you wait for so long” she said not lifting her head from his stomach. “i was lost”. 

“it quite alright Dawn” with one hand pulling her tight and the other patting her head, he hoped he had conveyed to her enough of his relief. “Everything is alright” 

“Oh! I almost forget!” Daw pushed herself off her uncle and stood up, pulling her uncle with her. “Look! Look!” 

Following Dawn’s pointed finger, Ingo thought he was looking into a mirror. A true reflection, another him, with same worn coat and hat, the same tired face and the matching goatee, looking at him with his hand crossed behind his back. The reflection nodded at him and by instinct, he mirrored the action. 

“Warden! So that’s where you have been!” the subway bosses came over to “Warden’s” side. He smiled at them; they conversed quietly among each other which was quite a feat because the whole place was noisy already. 

“i thought he was you so i was lost.” Dawn explained, she quickly added” But then i noticed that the button on his head was different! And then he led me back to you!” 

��“Then we must thank him, yeah?” with a nod from Dawn, the niece and uncle duo hold hand as they went over to the three men.  Ingo bowed deeply and Dawn copied him. “Thank you for leading miss Dawn back to my station.” he spoke. 

“Thank you, mister warden.” Dawn cheerily added. 

“no need to thank me for it’s a duty of the warden to lead the astray back on the path of safety.” the Warden deeply bowed in turn. This “warden”, was he like him also? He looked like him, but his demeanor was different, calmer and more content. He also wore the same emblem as the other two bosses as well. 

“you must be pondering over our similarities, am i correct?” the Warden said as he stroked his goatee, thinking up a way to explain this whole ordeal “i would be too if i was in your position.” 

”You and i and this fellow over there” he pointed at the subway boss “are all Ingos. unlike him though, you and i were both displaced, lost in the vast space and time, but unlike me, you are on your way back to your original station now and I am very happy for you.” the warden came over and patted him on the shoulder. 

“but what about you? With those two’s help, you should be on your way too, right?” 

“correct! But we haven’t found where that is yet” he retreated his hand “We are still searching for it but we also help conduct anyone we encounter on our way to find their way back!” 

“that’s right!” the subway bosses finally joined back into the conversation “after finding mister Warden and learning about his decoupling from his family, we had made it our new objective to help those in similar situation. And this station is one of the many points that the universes intersect with each other. A stop of many where we try to look out for a line leading back to mister Warden’s station.” 

“with that all settled, i think it is time for us to depart. “Emmet said while also gesturing toward Dawn who was hang off his side, looking bored out of her mind but she was being quiet out of polite.” let us get back to our track.” 

“Right. Again, thank you for conducting miss Dawn here back to me and we wish you luck on your journey.”  

“Of course! Now Emmet, is there anything you’d like to add?” the subway boss asked. His back facing his brother’s, ingo knew what he was about to do. 

"Follow the rules and drive safely! We're headed for victory! All aboard!" The subway boss in white strike the old so familiar pose, with his left arm straight and pointing at him while his right arm straight to his side and point down. 

“All aboard!”  subway boss ingo said their phrase in a voice full of excitement and mirrored his brother’s pose. They truly looked like a complete set, black and white, a two-car train. Looking at them, ingo got a glimpse of what home could be like. That, hopefully, when he finally reached his destination, returned to his rightful place, he would be able to do this with his brother as well.   

Dawn tugged at him to do the pose with her also. Ingo smiled and so they did. “All aboard!” The duo returned their excitement in full. The trio of universes hoppers waved them goodbye as Dawn led them through the arch in front of ticket booth, to where they would be waiting for their train to go home. 

When they reached the platform, it was just in time, a train had just pulled in. They quickly went in and settled themselves. Dawn was knocked out practically the moment her head hit the cushion. Ingo repositioned her so her head was on his shoulder and his arm was securing her to his side. Slowly enough, ingo began to drift out too. 

In the final moments of his consciousness, he thought over the encounter he had had. To think that out there, there was a family waiting for him at home and that there were also people and versions of him and his family helping people finding their way back home. All of it gave him such a warm feeling in his heart. His chest tightened and he brought his unoccupied hand up to muffle his hiccups. Some tears were building up on the edge of his eyes and some were traveling down his cheeks already, leaving a trail of warm wetness. 

“Please wait for me...” ingo crooked, his closed-up throat made it hard to talk, let alone be quiet about it. But he needed to say it, in the hope that his words would travel through space and reach its intended recipients. “...I'm almost home.” 

And with that, his eyes closed, and he let himself be lured to sleep by the rumble of the train, the comfort of the cushion and the warmth of his niece at his side. 

...... 

............ 

.................. 

somewhere, in a small office, deep in Gear station, a man laid under a big pile of paper. surrounding him were more papers, diagrams, maps and large symbols. he rose up abruptly, making the papers flew ever where.

“ingo?” 

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Last Rest

For @inklings-challenge 2024

She leaned on her steering wheel and looked up at the sign. It bathed the parking lot in bloody red and deep orange, the neon Vacancy beneath flickering uninspiringly in and out. This was the last hotel before the desert, and it had less than two stars in rating. The reviews had been an interesting blend of people disappointed that it had not lived up to its haunted reputation, and people disappointed in the poor service and strange happenings that had occurred during their stay. But no one had complained of bugs, so she would give it a shot. There would be - or had been already - a Disturbance out in the desert, and it was her job to manage it.

She cut her engine and stepped out the car. The door fell shut with a thump that seemed both louder and more muffled than usual. She glanced back at it and entered the lobby.

It was warmly lit in sickly yellow, and sparsely populated. A sullen Native teenager scrolled on her phone behind the reception desk, lounging in a desk chair that had seen better days, and a man in impressively meticulous reenactment garb circa the 1850s sat in a squashed hotel lobby armchair with a newspaper, his hat on the low table beside him. He looked up with beetling brows as the woman came in, but made no move to stand or greet her. She nodded to him politely, noting as she did so that the words and dates on his newspaper swam before her eyes.

She moved up to the desk, waiting patiently for the girl behind it to acknowledge her. It took a few seconds for flat dark eyes to meet hers; the teenager deliberately chewed her gum twice more and blew a bubble until it popped and demanded impatiently, "What do you want?"

"Do you have a vacancy?" the woman asked politely.

"Sign says so, doesn't it?" the receptionist answered scornfully.

"I wasn't sure," the woman explained, "since you seen to be having a bit of trouble with it."

The girl muttered and smacked at her computer, as though that would fix the glitchy sign out beside the road. The neon reflection on the granite-patterned laminate desktop stopped flickering and held steady, glowing orange and pink across the red-toned counter. The girl swiveled back to face the front of the desk. "Yeah, we got a vacancy, if you want it."

"I do," the woman said firmly. The girl sneered as if this was the wrong answer to a test, and swung away again to pull out from beneath the desktop a plyboard drawer with the stick-on finish peeling away. Trays of metal doorkeys sat inside, and the girl grabbed one and glided back over to drop it ringing on the laminate. "Room 113."

The woman picked up the key without a flicker of expression and paid in cash and turned to go back out the glass doors. The man in the chair was still watching; staring, even, and he still did not acknowledge her as she passed with another nod.

The desert night air was cool and tasted of lightning, the sky above velvety and unrelieved black. Anemic lights placed at intervals along the outside walkway helped after-sunset guests guess at which door was theirs. It took the woman only a few tries to get the key into the lock, but once it was, it turned smoothly and the door opened to admit her into a room that had the familiar smell and softly humming temperature control unit of a thousand other mid-grade hotels.

The woman flicked on the lights, which glowed to reassuring life, and moved at once to draw the heavy light-blocking curtains over the window. Whatever was out there that night, she did not need to see it, nor it her.

~•~•~•~

The Last Rest breakfast room reeked of grease, which was slightly odd, as eggs and bacon alike were both dry as the dust beyond the windows. The smell lingered in memory of meals past, perhaps.

The woman did not take long to break her fast. She filled her water bottles from the tap in the dining room and slid into her car, pulling away from the hotel and into the desert, her car moving along the road like some black beetle creeping across an unwound ribbon of cracked asphalt. Mirages shimmered skyward off of blacktop and sand alike, fading elusively away as she approached.

She stopped at last, on a stretch of road indistinguishable from the rest of the road around it, and got out. The Disturbance tugged at her, and she followed that pull, deeper into the desert, until the ribbon of road with its thermal illusions vanished behind her. Her car turned into a toy, and then a dark speck, and then dwindled into insignificant invisibility. She kept trudging on, the sand shifting treacherously beneath her soles, the sun an oppressive unrelenting weight on her head and shoulders.

She stopped at the rim of a valley. The vegetation here was sparse; a snake hissed away into the sand. Skeletal remains jutted skyward, bleached bone white by the sun. The wood of the wagons, exposed to the elements once more by wind-whipped shifting sands, lay broken and scattered; the metal frames for canvas covers that were long rotted away stood tall and stooped like broken monuments to sorrow. The skull of an ox grinned up at her.

She slid carefully sideways down into the valley. One of many, but this one was Disturbed. She walked fearlessly among the wagons, the ancient vehicles tilted forlornly to their sides, or decayed until only the tongues were left, bones scattered among them, chips of pottery and clay, a single glimmering fragment of glass. There was no sign of what had caused the Disturbance, and she stood in the very middle of the ring, hands on her hips as she looked around. A hawk screamed somewhere high overhead.

She had Observed. Solemnly she turned to scramble back up the hill, glancing back into the valley only briefly as she attained the top. Not a breath of air, no small animal, nothing stirred below, the scene caught frozen in an endless moment of time. She turned away and started back towards the far distant road.

The steering wheel burned her hands. She sat with the air condition running, sipping water, until it cooled down enough to touch. She drove back up the road, heat shimmering deceptively on its surface, the sun pooling her car's shadow on the grimy sand beside the pavement. Before her, stars shimmered to life in velvet blackness, and the neon lights of Last Rest rose out of the desert, orange and crimson and green.

The smell of dinner clung to the dining room, meat and vegetables and savory sauces. She sat taking small forkfuls of flavorless mashed potatoes and some sort of dry, chewy, unidentifiable meat. Her back was in the corner, a heavily tinted window to one side, her other open to the dining room and the lobby beyond. Her dinner was neither appetizing nor interesting, and so she was rather glad of the distraction when the front door opened to admit a group of people.

Men, women, and children, all of them tired and dusty and wearing reenactment clothes with the same level of detail as the lobby-man when she had checked in. Men doffed their hats and looked around wearily; women adjusted their grip on the hands of children and swaddled babies in their arms. One gentleman squared his shoulders and stepped forward, apparently the spokesman of the group. He went up to the Native girl behind the desk, who looked up with a shattering lack of interest, and clutched his hat and cleared his throat and said, "We are seeking rest. Can you give us rest? A place to rest?"

"I can offer you rooms for the night, if you can pay for them," the girl said, still supremely disinterested. Outside, the Vacancy sign flickered, washing the faces of those before and behind the desk an eerie red.

"We can pay for them," the man said in relief, and reached into a ragged pocket to pull out handfuls of bills. The woman, watching as she slowly chewed, could not quite see the denominations on the bills, and it gave her a headache to try. Behind the spokesman, a baby started crying. Somewhere out in the desert night, a dog howled, long and mournful.

The woman went to bed.

~•~•~•~

The group was at breakfast, too. There was a baby crying again, but by and large they seemed to be enjoying the rather tasteless food rather more than the woman was. She did not look too closely at their plates, and lingered over her coffee, muddy and bitter as it was, while they departed. Only one man remained, in the corner farthest from hers, his hat on the table in front of him. She recognized him from her first night at the hotel, and he watched her when she stood to leave but did not move himself.

The dust of the parking lot was crossed and recrossed with footprints. She did not look at them too carefully, but slid into her car and drove into the desert.

Gone were the wrecked ruins of wagons, weathered by nearly two centuries of sun and scouring wind. Gone were skulls bleached white. Canvas flapped tattered and forlorn on metal wagon arches. Horses whickered and oxen lowed, heads drooping, and the people from the hotel milled about aimlessly. A large black dog lay panting in the shade of one of the wagons, ears pricked alertly as it watched the slow-moving river of activity around it.

The woman slithered down the side of the sandhill into the gathering. None of the people seemed surprised to see her or alarmed by her advent, and she walked freely among them, helping to hitch horses to wagon tongues and dig wheels out of the shifting sands, ignoring the feeling of grass brushing against her legs. A child scrambled up into the back of one wagon.

It took all day to get the little band ready to move. They took little initiative of their own but moved gladly to follow her directions. The dog lunged to its feet and, panting, rounded the wagon out of sight. The sun reached its zenith and started down again. The woman drank from her water bottles; the wagon people drank from buckets and dippers that did not drip. The horizon turned orange and scarlet, the land a dark slash beneath the massive setting sun. Shadows wavered thin across the ground.

The spokesman approached the woman, hat in his hands. "What do we do now?"

She looked out across the desert, still and shimmering with heat. A path of deep amber stretched out from the setting western sun, and she pointed to it. "Follow the light to your destination."

The man turned to look. His eyes did not reflect the sun, though it fell full on his face. But he nodded in comprehension, and turned to smile at the woman, looking her full in the eyes for the first time. A shiver whispered down her spine, but she ignored it, smiling back. "Thank you," the man said. "We will."

The woman stood watching as the wagon train rolled out, her hand over her eyes as she squinted into the sun. The party was heading due west, dark silhouettes against the sinking sun that shrank to tiny dark dots far too rapidly and quickly vanished. The eastern night reached out cold fingers to brush the back of her neck and she shivered, turning away from the dying light towards the darkness.

Her car was a black blob on the road. The dim glow of the interior lights when she opened the door seemed incongruously bright, and she closed the door hastily on whatever might lurk in the desert beyond and turned on the ignition. The road rolled out before her, an endless line of asphalt, and time slipped away beneath the rubber of her tires as she drove.

The red and orange lights of the Last Rest sign rose up before her, the sullen actinic white of the building lights casting small pools of illumination that did nothing beyond their dull boundaries. The Vacancy sign had gone dark, invisible in the desert night.

The woman passed by the hotel, glancing through the plate glass windows of the lobby as she did so. A man sat in a lobby armchair, a brown hat on the table beside him. A girl's dark head was bent over her phone behind the desk. Neither glanced around at the passing car.

The woman drove on, the hotel shrinking in her mirrors, the lights of civilization a distant white glow ahead.

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Four

A Feysand Modern AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: I finally did it! Shoutout to SZA's song "Saturn" for helping me finish this chapter. I'm so excited for where this is going, everyone. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. No promises on the editing.

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other Feysand AU Fic (Completed)

Chapter Four

Feyre cursed herself for a fool from where she hid, deep in a supply closet on the fifth floor of Tamlin’s environmental empire, Spring Solutions.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. It had taken days for her to convince Tamlin to finally show him around her work. Only after she assured him she wouldn’t leave his side while there had he agreed to let her accompany him to the office on the following Friday morning.

Feyre forced her breaths to remain steady as another person passed by the door, the band of light between the door and the floor guttering with the motion.

“Where the hell is she?” A muffled, angry voice filtered through the walls around her.

But then the sound of the footsteps, along with the angry voice, receded.

Feyre took a deep breath. It was now or never.

She placed her hand on the cool metal of the door handle and pushed.

Three Days Earlier

The newfound knowledge of Tamlin’s alleged crimes slowly ate away at Feyre over the next several days. She couldn’t focus on her schoolwork. She missed a cold call in class. Her father called twice and she actually managed to ignore him.

When Tamlin returned on the following Monday, Feyre had to force herself to act as if nothing had changed. She let him touch her, kiss her, wax poetic about how much he had missed her.

Before he proceeded directly into his study to get back to work.

Feyre was on pins and needles for the hours he sat at his computer. She waited for the moment he somehow discovered she had accessed his computer and came to demand an explanation.

But he never did.

And so Feyre began to execute the next part of her plan.

When she came home from school on Tuesday, she gushed about how much she was enjoying her environmental law class. Tamlin listened intently, sitting forward on the couch as she paced in front of him, declaring her newfound intentions to pursue a career in environmental law. Lucien, who had been present for Feyre’s little performance, leaned against the kitchen counter behind Tamlin, eyebrows creeping higher and higher as Feyre delivered her monologue.

“That’s great, honey. I’m so glad you love this stuff as much as I do,” Tamlin said, eyes shining with sincerity. Feyre bit back her disgust.

“I really do,” Feyre said. “Which is why I wanted to ask if you would be open to me shadowing you at work. I would love to talk to some of your in-house counsel, just get a feel for what environmental law looks like in the real world.”

Tamlin sat straight up.

“Oh. Really?”

Feyre nodded, ignoring Lucien as he folded his arms at her words, his eyes tracking her every movement.

“Let me think about it,” was all Tamlin said. Feyre didn’t want to risk pressing harder, so she dropped the subject for the night.

But the next day, she resumed her prodding. Asked Tamlin if he had had time to think about it. After receiving a similar response, she waited until Thursday to ask once more.

In the intervals in between, Feyre found herself looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. On the train to and from the law school, during her walks in the park, while she was at the gym. She knew the FBI had to be on her trail, but never once did she catch a glimpse of Special Agents Claret or Lapis. And though she knew there was no possibility that Rhysand was the one observing her, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of her life if he was watching. Her quiet, appallingly small life. If he was watching, he would see her utter lack of a social circle, the disgusting amount of hours she spent hunched over her books, snacking on chips from the vending machine and whatever form of caffeine was closest.

It was probably better that Rhysand wasn’t the one watching.

On Thursday, Tamlin at last relented. He offered to meet Feyre at his office the next morning, for an hour before his lunch meeting.

And Feyre had duly accepted.

After her Friday morning class, she took the train back downtown, getting off at a stop about a block away from the enormous high-rise building that housed Spring Solutions. The receptionist, a young woman who looked to be a few years older than Feyre, struck up a conversation with her as they waited for Tamlin to emerge from the elevators that led up to his floor.

“I’m Ianthe,” the receptionist said, long blonde hair cascading over narrow shoulders, her sky-blue dress making her eyes pop. “You must be Feyre.”

Feyre gave Ianthe a nervous grin, shaking her perfectly manicured hand. This woman must spend hours on her makeup every morning. Her skin was absolutely flawless, lower eyelids lined with white, black mascara only further emphasizing those piercing blue eyes.

“Sorry,” Ianthe beamed. “Tamlin’s mentioned you a few times. I feel like I practically know you already.”

Feyre sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Ah.” Tamlin had never mentioned his gorgeous receptionist Ianthe. And yet he had been talking to Ianthe about Feyre so much that Ianthe already felt like she knew her?

Feyre reminded herself that jealousy was not a productive emotion. Especially when her boyfriend was in all likelihood a white collar criminal.

As Ianthe asked her about law school, Feyre wondered whether the receptionist knew about what went on behind the scenes at Spring Solutions. If there was indeed a “behind-the-scenes” to be spoken of.

Feyre answered Ianthe's questions with the shortest answers possible. But after the basic What practice areas are you considering pursuing? What led you to law school? What did you study in undergrad? questions, Ianthe launched into a monologue about how hard she had worked to decorate the atrium of Tamlin’s business.

Which was even more boring than the Administrative Law class Feyre had taken during her second semester of 2L.

To Feyre’s relief, the elevator to the left of Ianthe’s desk emitted a faint but elegant ding, and Tamlin emerged in his usual crisp, dark suit, his blonde hair perfectly arranged. Feyre pasted a smile onto her face, words sour in her mouth. “Hi, babe.”

Game time, Feyre thought. No matter how hard this would be, perhaps finding evidence of Tamlin's illegal activity would give her a stronger reason to break things off with him.

But hadn’t Rhysand said that Tamlin’s illegal activity would make it even more difficult for Feyre to leave him? Even dangerous?

Feyre shook her head, giving Ianthe a wave over her shoulder as Tamlin guided her into the elevator, a possessive hand on her lower back. Feyre turned to face him in the elevator, casually stepping out of his grip and leaning against the mirrored wall.

“How’s your day?” She asked. “Stressful?”

Tamlin stepped closer, one hand caressing her neck. “Much better now that you’re here.”

Feyre tried not to flinch away.

Gods, one second she was letting him pull her into bed and the next she couldn’t stand the feeling of his touch against her skin.

If she was honest with herself, discovering that he really was a criminal mastermind would probably make her life much less confusing.

Unfortunately, Feyre had to put up with Tamlin’s hands all over her as he toured her around the four floors of the high-rise that his company occupied. She met several accountants, a myriad of consultants, a plethora of assistants. Lucien joined them about halfway through the tour. He greeted Feyre as usual, but kept close behind her as they walked. Feyre couldn’t tell if his green eyes were tracking her every move or if she was just being paranoid.

At last, they reached the top floor—where both Tamlin and Lucien had their offices, and where the in-house legal department resided. Tamlin guided her into a large conference room, where several attorneys were gathered on one side of a long table, a lunchtime feast of sandwiches, chips, and coffee spread before them. It looked like a lunch break in all aspects except one: each attorney had a laptop propped in front of him or her, not even speaking to each other.

So this was what Feyre had to look forward to—work above all things. A twenty-minute lunch break to get to know one’s coworkers? Forget about it.

She knew in-house was different than big law, but if anything, big law firms like Hybern & Night were much more notorious for their bill or die mentality. These in-house attorneys were either unprecedented workhorses, or they were working on something important.

Feyre wondered if it was something illicit.

Feyre shook the three attorneys’ hands, smiling as they introduced themselves. Tamlin, Lucien, and Feyre joined them at the table, and Tamlin plated Feyre a ham-and-cheese sandwich, forgetting once again that she much preferred turkey.

But she smiled, ever the gracious and perfect girlfriend, launching into a stream of pre-prepared questions as the attorneys gave her their full attention. About halfway through the discussion, a secretary of some sort stuck her head into the conference room, telling Tamlin that he had an important phone call on line one. Tamlin excused himself, gesturing for Lucien to accompany him. Feyre waved them off, listening intently to one of the male attorneys—Hart—as he explained the benefits of taking “Tax Accounting for Lawyers” in law school. This rivaled Ianthe’s interior design diatribe in terms of how well it piqued Feyre's interest.

Feyre made herself wait two minutes before she excused herself to use the restroom.

As soon as she was clear of the conference room windows, she had to resist the urge to run. There must be cameras all around, and if she looked like she had a purpose, rather than lost on the way to the bathroom, this whole thing would be over before it began.

So, instead of rushing through the halls, she meandered, looking around herself, eyebrows scrunched together. She really should have pursued acting, rather than law.

At last, she passed what looked like an empty office. She shut herself inside, and almost giggled in nervous relief when she saw a phone on the desk. She picked it up, knowing the chances of it connecting to Tamlin’s line were close to zero—but—

She dialed one.

Tamlin’s voice erupted through the speaker the second her finger hit the button:

“What do you mean they’re not ready?” Tamlin growled.

Feyre almost gasped at the anger, the vitriol, in her boyfriend’s voice.

A muffled voice responded, so quietly Feyre almost missed it in her surprise at the harshness of her partner's tone. “They need another week.”

“We don’t have a week.” That was Lucien. Quieter, but just as tense as Tamlin.

“There’s no way they’ll be ready for you in time.”

“I don’t give two shits whether they’re ready. We’ll be there on the established date, and they better be ready to implement the recommendations we have already provided.”

The muffled voice didn’t respond.

“Brannagh?” Lucien’s voice cut through the silence.

“We’ll see you in a week.”

“Good.”

The receiver clicked. Feyre bit her lip.

This didn’t mean anything. It proved nothing.

But if it didn’t matter, why was Tamlin so angry? And what did “we’ll be there mean? He hadn’t mentioned going out of town again. . . Was this a local job?

Feyre bit her lip, carefully hanging up the phone before easing back out into the hallway, replaying the conversation she had just heard in her head. What did it mean? Was it innocuous or incriminating? Was it enough to bring to Rhysand?

Feyre wandered down the hallway, now truly on the lookout for the restroom. She had just spotted the signs when a man emerged from a conference room down the hall and to her left, clad in a much less expensive looking suit than the one Tamlin had worn, earbuds firmly fixed in his ears.

Feyre froze, but it was too late. He had seen her.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” The man demanded, striding purposefully toward Feyre.

Feyre swallowed, giving a little shrug and a sheepish smile before she turned down another hall, hopeful the man would conclude that she was the lost girlfriend of one of the many men who occupied the Spring Solutions Tower. Because that was at least one thing Feyre had learned about her partner’s business: very few women were employed there, and if they were, they were secretaries or Ianthe.

Unfortunately, Feyre heard the thundering of heavy footsteps behind her as she rushed down the hallway. Shit.

Feyre ducked into another hallway and threw open the first door she saw, breathing a sigh of relief when the sight of a dim janitorial closet greeted her, complete with mop bucket, broom, and shelves full of various cleaning products. Feyre slipped inside, standing where the door would hide her from view if opened, trying not to remember the few times she had convinced her older sisters to play hide-and-seek with her when they were kids.

Nesta rarely agreed, but Elain had played with her on several occasions, humoring her years-younger sister out of the goodness of her heart.

Feyre shook her head, clutching the hem of her suit jacket as heavy footsteps thudded by.

“Where the hell is she, Belfort?” A voice—this one different from the man with the earbuds—sounded from somewhere to her left.

“Do I look like I know?” The earbud man's voice responded.

Feyre swallowed, grateful when the footsteps faded away. Were these men unfamiliar with the layout of the building? Perhaps they were new . . . Or perhaps they didn’t usually work here. Because if Feyre were searching for a potential intruder, the broom closet would be the first place she checked.

She slid out into the hall, relief coursing through her at the sight of the empty hallway. She rushed back the way she came, looking over her shoulder as she turned back into the hallway where she had met the in-house attorneys—

Her chest collided with a wall of muscle, sweaty hands wrapping themselves around her upper arms in a grip that was just a little too tight.

Feyre turned to face her captor, catching a glimpse of hard dark eyes and a tight jaw, downturned lips and a forehead creased with anger, before a voice from behind the man had him straightening up and releasing Feyre.

“Is there a reason you’re manhandling my girlfriend, Belfort?”

Feyre stumbled backward, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Tamlin, followed by Lucien and several members of what appeared to be the security team.

“Your girlfriend, sir?” Belfort asked, glaring at Feyre one last time before he turned to face Tamlin. “But—”

Feyre cut him off, striding toward Tamlin and setting a hand on his shoulder. “I got lost on my way to the bathroom. I think they must have thought I was an intruder or something,” she said with a laugh, leaning into her boyfriend’s side.

“Belfort?”

Feyre stared at Belfort and hoped his desire to avoid a disagreement with his boss would win the day.

Evidently it did, because Belfort held up his hands. “My mistake, sir. Please, return to your lunch.”

Tamlin nodded, turning so quickly that he missed the look Feyre caught on Belfort’s face—

It was a look that said, I’m watching you.

------

Feyre stopped at a coffee shop on her way home from Spring Solutions, even allowing herself the time to sit in a booth at the window to drink it. She pulled out her current read—Foster, by Claire Keegan—but the book sat abandoned on the table in front of her as she stared out the wide windows at the streets of Prythian, mulling over the events of the morning.

Tamlin’s anger during his phone call. The man on the other line—Brannagh’s—response. Belfort stalking her through the shiny bright hallways of Spring Solutions just because she had walked down the wrong hallway.

To a court of law, none of this had any meaning.

But that feeling in the pit of Feyre’s stomach, the flash of fear she had felt when Belfort had caught her, the small bruises already forming on her biceps from his grip. . .

Feyre’s instincts told her something was wrong, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she discovered exactly why.

She took a sip of her coffee, sighing through her nose, resolving to give herself ten minutes to collect her thoughts before she walked the rest of the way home to resume studying.

But any chance to calm herself flew out the window when a man slid into the booth across from her.

Feyre jumped a mile high before she registered the hazel eyes, the classically beautiful features, and the scarred hands.

“Agent Lapis,” she breathed.

The SA held up a hand, his lips pursed. “Please, call me Azriel.”

Feyre glanced around her, as if she hoped to catch a glance of Cassian—or Rhysand—hovering somewhere nearby. But the rest of the cafe was occupied by innocuous coffee drinkers and several students with books and laptops spread across the tables in front of them.

“Azriel,” Feyre said, forcing herself to take another drink from her coffee.

“I’m here for your answer,” he said, eyes scanning the room even as he spoke to her.

When Feyre didn’t respond, his gaze snapped to hers. Whatever he saw there put a frown on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Feyre shifted in her seat, and couldn’t resist the reflexive look she gave the bruises on her biceps.

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening on the mug of coffee on the table between them. “What happened,” he breathed, his voice soft, but so lethal it sent goosebumps erupting over the back of Feyre’s neck.

“I got into Spring Solutions today,” Feyre started, but Azriel was already shaking his head.

“We know. What happened inside?” He asked, giving her upper left arm a pointed glance.

Feyre quickly and succinctly relayed the events of her time in Spring Solutions to Azriel, whose stoic expression didn’t waver as he listened.

“None of it means anything,” Feyre finished, running her hands through her hair. “But—I can’t explain it. Something just felt . . . wrong.”

Azriel shook his head. “It might not seem important or groundbreaking to you now, Feyre. But Rome wasn’t built in a day. Any detail learned now could always be useful later. And while none of what you told me today is enough for an indictment. . . It certainly could be if we learned more information.”

Feyre nodded, staying quiet. It was clear Azriel had more to say.

“You did a good thing, today, getting inside Spring Solutions. But if you agree to work with us, we’ll have to establish some ground rules. For your safety, and the good of the investigation.”

“My safety?”

Azriel nodded. “Rhys almost marched into that high-rise after you as soon as we sent him word you had gone there to meet Tamlin.”

Feyre blinked. “Rhys—Rhys knows I got inside?”

Azriel lifted a brow. “He’s the one leading this investigation. We keep him apprised of all notable updates.”

“Ah,” Feyre said, ignoring the cascade of confusing emotions that had unfurled inside her chest and stomach as soon as Azriel had said the words Rhys almost marched in after you.

“But the protocols will come later. What I came here to ask you today was whether you had decided.”

Feyre didn’t ask for further explanation. She knew what the SA meant.

She also knew her answer.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes meeting Azriel’s. “I’ll do it.”

-----

Author's Note: More Rhys is coming, I swear :)

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

[samaraannhan20]

Harry Styles Imagine: College AU!: The Final Show

A/N: Hey guys! this is my first time writing smut, so please be gentle with me. I’ve been working on this fic for a week now, and I’m excited to finally put it out in the world.

A/N 2: I guess when I copied and pasted the text from google docs my links for the outfits didn’t transfer, so I just went through and added them in, they should all be there now!

Warnings: 18+!!!, unprotected p in v (Wrap it up guys!), oral(fem! recieving), fem!reader, Collegestudent!reader, mentions of anxiety and depression

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“One more show,” I quietly say, both to myself and Harry, as we stand in the bathroom after showering, getting ready to leave for the stadium. “One more show,” he echoes, both of us just staring into the mirror. “How are you feeling?” I ask him “Nervous,” is the first word out of his mouth, and he pauses for a second before continuing. “Happy, sad, excited. A little bit of everything. It’s been three years, and it’s crazy that it’s coming to an end. Love on Tour is ending.” “I feel all of those things too,” I admit quietly. “Not to the same level you do, but I feel them all. Life without Love on Tour is going to be weird. I mean, without this tour we wouldn’t be here. Together. We probably wouldn’t have even met. If it wasn’t for that concert that I managed to get pit tickets for, you never would have noticed me or met me,” I say, chuckling a little. “You know,” I say, beginning to laugh a little harder, “we really have a typical fanfiction romance story.” “Do we now?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Yes. I mean, I read a lot of fanfiction when I was growing up. I was a fangirl. And how we met and our love story really is typical of fanfiction.” 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ November 19th, 2021 I walked into the Forum with my best friend at my side, both dressed-up and matching from head to toe, with feather boas around our necks. “I can’t believe we actually got pit tickets,” I say as we walk in, only a couple of other people being let in before us. “I know. I really thought that was a pipe dream,” Haylee responds, and I nod in agreement. We find our spot at the front of the pit, and plant ourselves there, not allowing ourselves to be pushed or shoved away from the spot. We spend the entire concert jumping up and down, and at random intervals I hold the poster I had made, that says “I skipped music theory to be here,” because I had left school early to drive out here today. One of the times I hold the sign up happens to be a time that Harry is standing in front of us, and he looks down and reads my poster, before smiling and shaking a finger at me. I watch as he mouths ‘shameful’ and then dances away. “Did you see that?” I shout as I turn to Haylee, and she looks to be in as much shock as I am, and just nods her head vigorously. We both turn back towards the stage, and just enjoy the rest of the concert as though nothing had happened. At the end of the concert, one of the security guards comes towards us, and I begin to get concerned that we did something wrong. “Hello ladies,” he says as he stands in front of us. “Um, hi,” I say quietly as I feel the panic attack begin to set in. “Are we in trouble?” Haylee asks, speaking up because she knew I wouldn’t. She’s the braver of the two of us. “No no no,” the guard says, shaking his head, and then continues. “Quite the opposite actually. Harry saw your sign,” he says, nodding his head towards me. “And he watched as the two of you enjoyed the concert, and he wanted me to come over and give you these passes, and invite you backstage,” he says, and hands us two VIP passes. “Wait what?” I say, vaguely sounding like Anna from Frozen. “Harry would like to meet you,” he says again, and then moves the barrier to let us through, and lets us follow him backstage. “What just happened,” I whisper to Haylee, grabbing her hand as we follow the security guard. “I have no idea,” she responds, and we walk in silence backstage. When we get back to the common area, Harry is standing there talking to some of his bandmates. I see him when he notices me, and he says something to the people he was talking to, and then he walks over to me and Haylee. “‘Ello ladies,” he says as he stops in front of us. “I’m Harry,” he says, and holds out his hand. “Hi,” I say softly. “I’m Y/N.” “And I’m Haylee,” Haylee says from next to me. “Nice to meet you both. Would you like to meet everyone else?” he asks, and we both nod our heads, and make the rounds to all the others as he introduces us to everyone. The more time we spent talking to other people, the more comfortable I got, and I could feel my body loosening and my body language becoming more welcoming.  Haylee separates from me and Harry, going over to talk to some of the band members, and Harry gently touches my elbow to get my attention, and then nods over to the side, motioning for me to follow him. I do, and before I know it we’re standing in our own little corner talking to each other. “Did you really skip music theory to be here?” he asks, and I blush and tuck a spare hair behind my ear before looking up at him. “Yeah. We wanted to be at the front of the pit, so we left super early this morning and sat in line all day.” “I never knew I had such devoted fans,” he says with a small laugh, and I laugh right along with him. “Yeah right,” I say in response. “There were others who were out there before we were, and we thought we were super early.” “Wow. Well, I hope you didn’t miss anything important in any of your classes today,” he says, and I laugh. “The classes I didn’t miss anything important, but I did miss rehearsals today, so that might be a little hard to catch up on,” I say, smiling as I look at him, and then I frown when I see a small frown cross his face. “Well I hope it’s not that hard to catch up. What kind of rehearsal?” he asks, and then we spend the next hour standing alone and talking about different things, not noticing what is going on around us. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “I’m glad you skipped class that day,” he says, placing a kiss on my neck, and snapping me back to reality and out of memory lane. “Me too,” I whisper, and then turn in his arms so that I’m facing him. “Last show.” “Last show,” he repeats, and then leans in to kiss me. When he pulls away he has a cheeky smile on his face. “And then two weeks in Italy before heading back to the States to make sure you’re back in time for classes,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner. “You’re cheeky,” I say before leaning in and kissing him again. “I can’t believe you’re moving to America for a year just for me.” “It’s true love baby love,” he says, leaning in and pressing his forehead against mine. “True love,” I whisper, and then peck his lips one more time before pulling away. “C’mon. I need to gather my outfit for the show before we leave.” “No you don’t,” he says, and I stop in the bathroom doorway and turn back to him. “Yes I do. I’m not going to the final show in this,” I say, and motion to my bike shorts and oversized Pleasing sweatshirt that I had stolen from him. “I know that. I had Lambert pull together something for you. I wanted us to match for the last show,” he says, and I run the short distance to him, jumping on him. He catches me easily, and laughs as I start to kiss all over his face and neck. “No love bites,” he says with a laugh as I focus on one specific spot. “I still have one more show.” “Did you really have Lambert pull something together for me H?” I ask as I pull away. “Of course I did. This night is just as much for you as it is for me.”  I shake my head as he puts my feet back on the floor. “No it’s not. I don’t perform or do anything. You do it all.” “Maybe so, but there wouldn’t be a Harry’s House yet without you. Over half of those songs were written and produced after you came into my life. It’s amazing we were able to get the album out when we did,” he says, and pulls me in for a kiss. “I love you. I wouldn’t have made it through this tour without you. This night is just as much yours as it is mine.” I kiss him again, before turning to leave the room. “I love you. We really do need to go though,” I say looking over my shoulder at him. He laughs and follows me out of the bathroom. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Okay Lambert,” I say as I stand in Harry’s dressing room. He���s been kicked out for the time being so that my outfit is a surprise for him. “Get me in this outfit. Also it better be comfortable because the concert is over 2 hours tonight,” I say smiling at him. Harry had already changed, but not let me see him. I had been led into the dressing room with a blindfold on, giving Harry the chance to kiss me before he left so that my outfit was a surprise for him. “You got it girlie,” he says with a laugh, and then grabs the garment bag off the rack behind him. “Prepare to be amazed. Also, keep in mind you don’t know what Harry’s outfit looks like yet, so this might not make sense but it will.” After he says that he unzips the bag and drops it on the ground, holding out the outfit for you.   “Lambert…” I say trailing off, shocked at how beautiful this outfit is. “I know. It's beautiful. And just wait until you see Harry’s.  You guys will look amazing together,” he says, pulling me into a hug. “And, Harry told me you would refuse to wear heels, so, even though I picked out a pair of heels for you, he got these for you,” he says as he bends down and grabs a box of shoes from under the clothing rack and opens them. “MY OWN PAIR OF SATELLITE STOMPERS!” I yell, super excited, jumping up and down.   “Yep. Everyone got a pair for this last show, but Harry had something special embroidered on yours,” he says as he holds them out for me. I grab them and inspect them, fawning over the Love On Tour logo on one side, and then I tear up as I read the embroidered message. “My Satellite,” I whisper as I read the message. I hear Lambert sniffle and look up to see him tearing up. “Why are you crying?” I ask him through my own tears. “Because I am one of the people who got to watch the two of you fall in love. I got to watch him text you everyday, starting from the first meeting, through random concerts you were flown out for, the trips he would make just to see you when you both felt it was too early in your relationship for you to join him on your yet,  until you joined us this summer because you both agreed it was past time. I’ve watched you watch his concerts and I see the love you have in your eyes for him. The two of you were meant to come together,” he says, and I walk to him and give him a big hug. “Thank you Lamby,” I say, and then pull away and wipe my tears off. “Okay, I’m going to go change. You go get H and tell him he can come and wait on the couch.” I turn and head into the bathroom that’s in the dressing room, and quickly change. I smooth out my hair and wipe the small run of mascara off, before opening the door and stepping out. When I step out Harry is sitting on the couch, and he stands up and walks over to me. “Wow, Darling you look amazing. Lambert did a good job,” he says, and as he says that I take in what he’s wearing. “Lambert did an amazing job of making us match,” I say as I walk closer to Harry and press my lips to his own. “Thank you for the shoes. And the extra special message I whisper, looking up at him through my eyelashes. “They’re going to become my new comfort shoes. I’ll wear them everyday,” I say, and he kisses me. When he pulls away he smiles and says “Did you notice I got yours as platforms?” “Yes I did. And I greatly appreciate it. You know I’m crazy about platforms because they make me taller,” I say with a huge smile, and he leans in and kisses me again. We have some time to spare so we go and sit on the couch together. “How are you feeling?” I ask as I curl into his side after he takes his vest off and sets it aside. “Nervous. Sad. I’m ready for it to be over, but I’m also sad it’s ending. But excited because we’re staying here in Italy for a few weeks and we get to spend unbothered time together,” he says, and I can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s really feeling all of these emotions. “I’m really nervous to play that song for them at the end.” “All these emotions are valid. But I know that no matter what your fans are thankful for the time they got from you. You gave them three years of your life. A new album in the middle of that. They love seeing you, but they know you need a break to stay healthy. And they’ll be here waiting when you come back. No matter how long it is,” I tell him, rubbing his back as I say it. “What if they forget about me?” he says very quietly, and I gently grab his face in my hands. “Harry Edward Styles. Never in a million years will those fans ever forget about you. You saved so many of them. When I was just a fan, you saved me. And you saved me again when you brought me backstage that night and gave me your number before I left. Those people love you. I love you. Your mum loves you. Everyone who works with you loves you. No one will ever forget you,”  I tell him, and as I finish he pulls me into him and crashes his lips onto mine. When we pull away we’re both breathless, and we both need a minute to calm down. I stand and cross to the bathroom to fix my lipstick and grab a wipe to get the lipstick off of H. As I sit down and start to wipe his lips off, there’s a knock on the door and Jeff comes in, followed by Glenne and Anne. “Oh. Sorry,” Jeff says with a laugh as he sees me wiping Harry’s face, and Harry and I both laugh in return. “No worries,” Harry says when I move the wipe away from his mouth. “A minute earlier there might have been worries, but you’re just in time,” he continues, and I quickly get up to throw away the makeup wipe and try to hide my blushing face. “Harry, don’t embarrass Y/N,” Anne says with a smile on her face, and I mouth thank you to her from where I stand. “It’s not as if we all didn’t already know what was going on in here before we walked in,” Jeff says, and I laugh when Glenne gently smacks him on the chest. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop now,” he says with a laugh, and everyone sort of chuckles in response. I cross back over to Harry and he wraps his arm around my shoulder and places a kiss on my forehead. “Sorry love. Are you okay?” he whispers to me when he pulls away, and I just give a small smile and nod my head, before laying my head on his shoulder. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “My family are here tonight, my friends are here tonight. My girlfriend is here tonight. Thank you for my family,” Harry says, continuing his final speech, and I watch as he starts to tear up, before pausing to collect himself.  “I was doing so well!” he exclaims, trying to make the situation less serious. “Thank you for the support. Thank you for loving me the way that you have. My friends are here tonight. Thank you for having my back, always. I love you all so much. My girlfriend is here tonight. I wouldn’t be here tonight, finishing the tour on this date if it wasn’t for her,” he says, and pauses as he searches the area his mother is standing in looking specifically for me. When he finds me he zeroes in, his gaze falling solely on me. “I love you,” he says, with tears in his eyes. “I have a lot of things to feel incredibly lucky for in life but I feel the luckiest with my friends’ support. It allows me to do this. I am so full right now. I’ve never been happier in my entire life,” he says, pulling the microphone away from his mouth and mouthing “I love you” to me one more time, before turning to the band and starting to talk to him. I walk to Anne and stand right beside her as he continues his speech. We stand there holding each other as he talks to the audience. “Thank you,” she says to me, voice barely to where I can hear her, and I turn my head to look at her with a questioning look on my face. “For what?” I ask, and she just smiles and shakes her head. “You don’t see it, but everyone else does. You’ve brought him back to life.  Without you this tour would have ended a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his job, but he probably would have ended this specific tour the first time around, found the inspiration to finish and then  release Harry’s House, and then organized a new tour. You gave him the ability to write while on tour, because you inspired him while he was on tour,” she says to me, and I tear up, and kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you Anne. But none of it would have happened without your support,” I say to her, and she tugs me to her and gives me a tight hug. When we pull away and turn back to Harry I can tell that he is starting to finish up his speech. “I see it- the love- in how it’s affected all the people around me, continue to affect people. It does not end with this tour, it doesn't end when this tour ends. Put some love into the world, it really needs it right now. I love you and I’ll miss you. You not only changed my life, you have made me the happiest. I’m so thrilled, I’m so happy. There’s lots of emotions tonight,it’s been a long time and I just wanna thank you very seriously for what this has been to me. You’ve changed my life,” he says, and then pauses for a second, and I watch as his eyes circle around the stadium, as he turns to the band one last time, and then turns back to the audience. “None of you are alone. Look around, look at how many people there are here. We’re all the same. I love you. Thank you so, so much.” As he finishes his speech, I tear up, and look around at all the people in the stadium and all those surrounding me. They may have changed his life. I may have changed his life.  But he’s changed mine as well. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ As soon as I get backstage I go on the hunt for two things. One being water, and the other being Harry. As I get to the refreshments table I grab a water bottle and begin scouring the area with my eyes, looking for Harry. I see him just as I take a sip of water, and choke a little when I see that he has ditched the vest, never quite prepared for the image of him shirtless, even after two years together. I immediately begin walking over to him. He’s surrounded by the band, but when he sees me his smile gets bigger, and they all immediately turn to see what it is he’s looking at, and then cheer when they see it’s me. He pulls me in for a deep kiss as soon as I reach him, and for a minute the world is lost to us. I don’t register the hoops and hollers that are happening behind or around us, all I notice is him. When he pulls back he raises his hands up and starts jumping in the air, and everyone around him follows suit. As I jump up and down with him I can see Anne standing a few feet away, and I jump/hop my way over to her and pull her into the group. When Harry sees her he pulls her in for a hug, and then reaches out to pull me in too. The three of us stand there hugging and just lost in our own world. After we separate from our hug, someone starts playing music and Harry and I stand and just dance around, partying with everyone around. Eventually Harry pulls away and gets everyone’s attention. “You all did so amazing during this tour, and I am so thankful for each and everyone of you. But it’s late, and we’re all tired. So let’s go to our hotel rooms or wherever we're staying. I will see all of you at dinner at my house tomorrow night for our final family dinner!” he exclaims, and everyone cheers one last time. Before I know it the entire band and crew and anyone else who was back here partying with us has corralled everyone into one big group hug. Some people are crying, others are laughing. The people at the back are the first to break free, and as soon as we are finally released from the hug, Harry and I head towards his dressing room to gather our things and go home. “What a night,” I say as the door closes behind Harry and we’re alone for the first time in hours. I start to gather some belongings that we had strewn across the dressing room, and as I start to throw items in my tote bag, I hear a sniffle come from the door. “Harry?” I say as I drop what I had been holding and begin to walk towards him. He hasn’t moved, and is still facing the door, so when I step up to him I place my hand on his arm and turn him toward me. “Honey what’s wrong?” I ask once he’s facing me and I see the tears that are falling down his face. “It’s over,” he whispers, and I let a small “oh” escape my mouth, before pulling him into me. He buries his head in my neck, and I feel the tears start to fall off his face and onto my skin. I stand there holding him for a while, but after a few minutes the tears slow and he pulls himself away from me. “I’m okay. I just didn’t want to cry in front of all of them.” “H, it’s okay to be sad that the tour is over. It’s been your life for three years now. And everyone else is sad as well.  I’m sad, and I haven’t even been here since the beginning,” I tell him, and gently lead him over to the couch. “You were only a few months late,” he mumbles, a small smile coming across his face. “Right, but either way it wasn’t the beginning. You’ve been doing this amazing thing for three years now. It’s okay, and it’s time for you to take a break. In all reality, you don’t have to be onstage to be doing amazing things. Your music does it for you,” I tell him, and I watch him close his eyes and nod in agreement and understanding. “Thank you,” he whispers, and before I can ask why he continues. “Don’t ask why, I can feel the look on your face. Thank you for being here. For being with me. Or always being there to talk me down.  Just being there. Even when you weren’t physically here you were just a call away. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in this world,” he explains, and then leans forward and kisses me. “I love you,” I say when he pulls away, and he just leans back in and kisses me again. Our bodies are so in tune with each other that with each push and pull or move of our bodies or tongues it is a seamless connection. When we pull away we lean our foreheads together as we catch our breath. Harry leans in and attaches his lips to my neck, and I laugh a little as he moves his lips further down, getting closer to my chest with each move. “Harry, we can be home in twenty minutes and continue this if you’ll let me finish gathering up our stuff,” I say, laughing, and gently pushing him away. He places one last kiss on my collar bone and pulls back. “Okay, let’s go,” he says, standing up and holding his hand out for me, helping me stand so I can gather the rest of our belongings. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Harry we have to get up to meet with the caterers,” I say as I try to get out of bed, but am quickly pulled back into bed with a vice grip around my waist as Harry holds on. We had both received a text from Anne and Gemma saying that they were going out for the morning, and that thought alone made Harry not want to let me out of the bed, knowing that we were alone in the house for some time. “We have like 3 hours before they will be here,” he mumbles into my shoulder, placing small kisses all over it. “Right but we both need to take a shower,” I say as I continue to try to pull away. “Okay, so 30 minutes to fool around in bed, an hour to shower, 30 minutes to fool around in the shower, and we’ll still have an hour left to get dressed,” he says, flipping me over so that I’m laying on my back and starting to move his body down mine, lips trailing over my body as they move down. “I don’t have the heart to stop you,”  I tell him, getting a little breathless as he gets closer to my core, and I feel his small breaths of laughter on my lower stomach. He continues down my body, and spreads my legs open, slipping between him. I shiver as he kisses the insides of my thighs, before he moves to where I really want him. He starts flick his tongue on and around my clit as he inserts a finger into me and starts to move it in and out, making a ‘come here’ motion when he is inside of me, hitting the perfect spot. I thread my fingers through his hair as he starts sucking on my clit, and slips two more  fingers inside. He looks up at me through his eyelashes as he brings me closer and closer to the edge, and I see the smirk on his lips as he suddenly pulls away. He brings his body up over mine and brings his lips to mine as he pushes into me. A moan escapes both of our mouths as he begins to move in and out of me. “How are you doing baby?” he asks when he pulls away from my lips. “Amazing,” I moan out, and scratch my nails down his back. “Harder Harry,” I moan out, and he obliges. He starts to move in and out faster, and reaches a hand down to rub my clit. He keeps moving in and out of me at an excruciating pace, but it feels amazing and I do not ask him to stop. He takes his time, making sure that I get to my breaking point first, and then he follows after. After we both take a few moments to catch our breath, he moves his body down mine and starts to eat me out again. He works me up again, rubbing at my clit, and before long he has me hurtling over the edge again. He moves his body back up and lays down next to me, pulling me into him, and we lay there in silence for a few moments, catching our breath. Neither of us makes a move to pull away from the other, instead laying there together. After a few minutes Harry pulls himself away, before holding out his hand. Together we walk to the bathroom and get into the shower. As soon as the water is heated up, Harry is on his knees and eating me out again, cleaning the mix of our cum out of me. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “I tried to tell you that we weren’t going to have enough time,”  I say to Harry as we both scramble to put clothes on after hearing the doorbell ring. “I didn’t hear you complaining,” he says, buttoning his pants and grabbing a shirt. “I’ll get the door,” he says, crossing over to me and pecking me on the lips as I straighten up after slipping underwear on. “I got it. Take your time,” he says and then heads out of the bedroom. I slip my pants and sports bra on, and walk back into our en-suite to apply mascara. I put the mascara on and brush out my hair, and then walk back into our room and grab the shirt I had laid out and slip it on. I stand in front of the mirror for a second and make sure that my outfit looks okay, and will be okay for the last family dinner with the Love on Tour family dinner. I then slip  out of the room, and walk down the hall towards the kitchen. As I near the kitchen I can hear Harry talking to the caterer that he had let in. “I think setting up the buffet right here would be best, and then people will just be standing and eating or sitting and eating wherever they decide. We weren’t planning on pushing any tables together or anything. It’s essentially one big house party before we all go our separate ways for some time,” he tells the caterer, and as I step in and walk next to him the caterer nods in understanding. “I will bring my team back in a few hours with all the food you ‘ave requested,” the caterer responds as Harry leads him to the front door to let him out. “Sounds great, thank you so much Tomas,” Harry says, and then waves as he walks out the door, shutting it after the man has made it out. “See,” he says, turning to me with one of his trademark smiles. “I told you everything would be okay.” 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Hi, welcome,” I say as Lloyd and some of the other photographers come in the front door. They all stop and give me a small hug as I say “the food is in the kitchen to the right, and everyone is spread all over the room.” I close the door as they all walk in the direction of the kitchen, and turn and look over the house. From this spot I can see Harry and Pauli dancing around. I can see Sarah and Mitch holding the baby and giving him little pinches of safe food every now and then while they talk to Anne. I can see Jeff and Glenne talking to Lorryn and some of the other band members.   I go through the kitchen and grab a little food and then cross the room to sit with Anne. I grab the glass of wine I had left there when I went to answer the door and take a sip. When I place the wine glass down again, Anne wraps her arm around me and I lean into her. “How’re you doing sweet girl?” she says when there’s a lull in the conversation. I watch as Sarah and Mitch take the baby and walk over to where the other band members are, and I can tell it’s their way of giving me and Anne some privacy. I set my plate down in front of me before answering her. “I’m… okay,” I respond. “It’s been the best summer of my life, and it’s not fully over yet, but it feels like it is. Especially since I’ve made so many friends traveling with H, and now I know it will be a long time before I see them again,” I explain, and I can see the understanding across her features. “I can understand that,” she says, and then leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “How long until the two of you head back to the states?” “I thought he told you everything,” I say with a laugh, and she laughs with me. “We’re heading back on the 12th. I’m one of the leaders for orientation and I have a meeting at school on the 18th, but we discussed it and we both wanted some time to settle back into the house. Well,” I say pausing to let out a small laugh. “I guess we wanted time to move in and settle. He sold the LA house, which you knew, and the movers are moving everything into the new house, which is closer to my school and has a private beach attached to it. We had everything, both his and mine, moved into a storage unit. The only clothes I currently have access to are the ones I packed for this trip,” I say with a small laugh. “I’m not positive what we’re doing with the very little furniture and other things that I have, but we have to figure something out.” “Would you like for me to come out around that time to help you guys figure it out?” she asks me, and I immediately wrap both my arms around her. “I would love nothing more. And I know Harry will feel the same. He misses his mom.” She smiles in response and squeezes my sides before pulling away. “I miss my boy. It’s settled then. I’ll look at tickets the moment I get home tomorrow,” she says and I lean over and kiss her on the cheek before reaching out for my wine. I sit silent for a minute, sipping on my wine and thinking. “I feel bad,” I say when I speak up again, and Anne looks at me as though I’ve grown two heads. “Why on earth do you feel bad?” she asks me, reaching out and placing her hand on my arm, gently squeezing. “I’m taking Harry away from you. He’s moving to America for me,” I say, refusing to look in her eyes and instead staring into my wine glass. “Oh my sweet sweet girl,” she says, and gently reaches out and tips my chin up so I’m looking in her eyes. “You are not taking him away from me. He was getting close to moving there full time anyway. He sold the one LA house to find a new one, not to move home. He might not have admitted that, but we both knew it. It is in no way your fault. I would be upset if he was moving there and didn’t have anyone, but he has you. And you have shown me time and time again over the last two years, that you are the person for him,” she tells me and I smile. “Thank you. I’m gonna miss you when I’m back at school and don’t have as much time to see you.” “I always tell Harry that I’m only a phone call away, and that goes for you as well. I love you sweet girl,” she says, and I lean into her again, wrapping my arms tightly around her. “I love you Anne.” When we pull apart we sit there visiting for a while longer as I pick at some of the food I had on my plate and take a few small bites and finish my wine. I don’t notice Harry watching me pick at my food  until he comes over carrying a plate of fruit and a glass of water.  He comes over and gently takes the plate out of my hands, handing me the plate of fruit at the same time, and that  is what brings my attention to him. I look up at him with a questioning look and he just smiles. While I’m looking at him I feel Anne get up, and Harry is quick to take her place on the couch. “Haz, I have a plate of food,” I tell him as he gets comfortable next to me. “But you didn’t want it,” he says simply, and I feel my facial expression morph into one of bewilderment. “How could you possibly have known that?” I ask him, not wanting to admit he was right. I had only grabbed the plate of food because everyone else had one, and I didn’t want to be the only one without food. I typically only eat one meal a day, with some snacks here or there, and I had eaten lunch so I wasn’t that hungry. “Because I know you. You sat here drinking your wine, and took maybe two bites of food. I don’t like that you only eat one meal a day, but I know it has to do with your depression and anxiety, and I know that being one of the hosts of a party is causing you some anxiety,” he explains as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and gently pulls me to lean on him. “However, I also know that you need to eat something. Fruit is a comfort food for you. So I grabbed some of your favorites and brought it over,” he finishes, and I tilt my head and lift it to meet his lips in a kiss. “You’re too good to me,”  I whisper when I pull away, and he just smiles and shakes his head. “No, you’re too good for me,” he says, and then leans down and presses another kiss on my lips. 〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ “Thanks for coming,”  I hear Harry say from my spot laid out on the couch,  as the last guests leave. Anne had gone to bed about an hour ago in her room here at the house. Gemma had also gone to the guest room she was staying in, which was right across from their mother’s room. Sarah and Mitch had left hours ago, heading back to the hotel to get the baby into bed at a semi-decent time. I close my eyes as Harry walks back into the room and Moon River, by Audrey Hepburn, comes over the speaker in the room. I quietly hum along with it until I feel a shadow fall over my head. “Come dance with me,” he says, gently playing with the necklace that is resting on my collar bones, one that he had given me a couple of months after our one year anniversary. I hum in agreement before allowing him to take my hand and pull me up. As soon as I’m standing he pulls me to him and we sway back and forth, slowly moving around the room. Another slow song comes on as we continue dancing, lost in our own little world. After a while I pull back and look at him. “Ready to rest now?” I quietly say, not meaning for the night, but meaning for a greater amount of time. He gives me a small smile and nods yes. We stop dancing and make our way over to the couch, and he sits down first, laying down on the couch. He spreads his legs so that I can slip my body between them, and I lay down with my head on his chest. He rubs his hands up and down my back as we sit there in silence, the only noise being the music that is playing through the speakers. “What are we going to do tomorrow?” he quietly asks after a few minutes. “Rent that boat you mentioned. Clean up from this party and get the house ready for the guests that are coming next week.  Say goodbye to your mom for now,” I say, and then pause. “It doesn’t really matter what we do. What matters is that you get some well deserved and needed rest,” I say, and then place a gentle kiss on his chest. “What is this rest thing you speak of?” he says, and without looking at him I can hear the smile in his voice, and feel the chuckle rumble through his chest. “It’s something you deserve and need to enjoy,” I say, and then I stand up, holding my hand out for him. “Here, let me show you.”

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 15; red string of CONSPIRACY

✧.* featuring yn opening up to Kyle about their recent theories : ̗̀➛ notes - I always get nervous when I post written out parts (esp when it's a smau) but I felt like this needed to be in person for the effect. The next part will be mainly written too so get ready! tags - college au, superhero au, smau

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It’s got to make sense. It HAS to make sense. If it doesn’t make sense I’ve spent the past week thinking about it and that’s a week wasted that I could’ve used to do something else or literally anything. 

My vision blurred as I stared at the cork board, eyes tracing the same track of red yarn from picture to news article to picture to news article to picture-

It was a vicious cycle that had trapped me for what felt like hours but could’ve been minutes. Or days. Time came and went in no consistent interval. I woke up, went to class, came home and stared at this board until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. 

I hadn’t made a video in a few weeks and I’d postponed the interview I had scheduled with Fast Pass with no new date set. Another lost opportunity because I couldn’t get my shit together. This is all I had right now. So I had to be right. Even if the theory made me sound like I’d never had a critical thought in my life. 

Which it does. Kyle didn’t even respond after you told him. That means no one believes you. It means your theory doesn’t make sense. This is BUTTERS we’re talking about.

Yeah but if it’s wrong, that means those people are right. Even if they’re just spreading hate on the internet to make themselves feel better, they have lives nonetheless. If I assisted someone who’s actively ruining people’s lives, does that make me just as bad as him? 

I shake the thoughts away. I’m not a bad person. I may make questionable choices but what college student doesn’t? It’s a part of growing up. So I have to be right about this. But what does that mean moving forward? What do I do knowing one of my best friends is a super villain? 

A stinging feeling begins behind my eyes as I feel the familiar pressure across the bridge of my nose that always happens before I start crying. 

Why can’t I figure this out? Why can’t I let this go? Why am I stuck-

A knock at the door startles me from my concentration. My head whips to the door as though it would open on its own to reveal who interrupted my time of focus. 

“Yn? Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. 

Oh fuck. 

I looked back to the cork board which took up the majority of my living room. 

Why did I buy this again? I wondered, realizing how much space the board actually took up. The once tidy living room had become cluttered with empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered over the coffee table, end tables, and ground. Bits of red yarn sat on the ground from cut up scraps. Other lengths that had connected discarded evidence sat in a pile on a stool, waiting for the chance to be connected to the ever expanding web once again. 

“Are you in there?” Kyle’s voice rang through the apartment again.

I can’t let him in here! He’s going to think I’m some hermit conspiracy theorist!

…Well I kind of am a conspiracy theorist.

Deciding to ignore that realization, I lunged for the nearest piece of trash (a 3 day old Chipotle bowl that I just kept forgetting to walk the 3 feet to the kitchen trash) and tossed it into the garbage can. Speed cleaning the apartment lifted a weight from my shoulders, making the small living room feel less claustrophobic. 

Wow, I feel better already. Maybe I should open the blind and run a vacuum through real quick- KYLE!

I spun and walked toward the door, fixing my appearance in the 10 second walk to the door to the best of my ability. Even if I’ve been stuck in my apartment for a week and a half, I didn’t want to look like it. 

Unlocking the door, I put on my best “I’m totally fine and mentally stable!” face.

“Hey, kyle!” 

If I looked bad, Kyle somehow looked worse. The usually maintained curls frizzed into a blur atop his head and his shirt was clearly on backwards with a Fruit of the Loom logo showing proudly at the base of his neck. His eyes darted around the hallway and into my apartment through the sliver he could see through the cracked door. 

The fuck is up with him?

I think while also wearing a shirt backwards after throwing away a week’s worth of take out food and diluted iced coffee as though I was any better off. 

That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. I’m perfectly stable, duh. 

“You good?” I asked, leaning against the door frame to keep him from seeing my conspiracy board. 

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one that texted me an essay about your theories then called yourself an asshole.”

“Oh those?” I forced out a laugh, waving a hand to brush off the concerns, “Those were just joke, duh! You took those seriously?” 

“They sounded pretty serious to me.” Kyle sighed, running a hand through his ragged hair in a way that somehow didn’t catch his fingers in the mess of curls, “Can I come in? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

My eyes darted back into the apartment. The giant cork board stuck out like a neon sign saying “A MENTALLY ILL PERSON LIVES HERE!” I couldn’t let someone see me like this. Texting Kyle in the first place was a mistake. He’ll think I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m not someone to be trusted. The work I put into being reliable yn who’s always there to be a person you can lean on will be ruined. No one will ever trust me again. 

But don’t you want someone else to know? Just knowing that someone else sees your stress instead of shoving it down until it spills over?

The thought alone of telling someone about these thoughts, of sharing the burden I’d created for myself, cleared the clouds fogging my mind. He can be someone who will listen. He can be a witness so I’m not the only one who knows that I’m struggling. 

I stepped back, pulling the door open so Kyle could step through. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” I started, hoping to mediate the embarrassment of letting someone into my stress lair. 

Kyle shook his head as a small smile tugged at his lips, “It’s no problem, if you’ve ever seen stan’s room-” His sentence died out as he noticed the cork board. You know, the giant one covering my living room wall filled with pictures and newspaper clipping connected by red yarn. 

“Oh.” Was all he said. 

I shut the door behind him. Kyle jumped slightly at the sound, turning his gaze to follow me as I walked. He doesn’t say a word. Only staring at the cork board, the remains of trash I’d missed on my quick clean, and my own disheveled appearance. 

Might as well address the elephant in the room.

“Do you want to talk about the cork board?” I asked, continuing before he had a chance to reply, “Let's talk about the cork board because I’ve been dying to talk about this cork board all day.” Walking up to the board, I pointed to the center where two photos sat: one of the supervillain Professor Chaos and the other of elementary education major Butters Stotch. 

“Professor Chaos. His name keeps coming up over and over again. Everyday Call Girl is sending out alerts about this guy,” I move my hand to point at different tweets I’d printed out and pinned to the board, “Professor Chaos takes hostages in a McDonalds Play Place for a birthday party. Professor Chaos attempts to sign himself as the mayor of South Park using a fake charity petition. Professor Chaos hijacks the news station to declare the weather today ‘a 100% chance of Chaos’. This entire corner is just tweets about Professor Chaos!” 

Kyle sits down on the couch without a word, eyes still following my every move. I start pacing across the living room. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? Is it because he doesn’t believe me? 

“So I start to look closer at his actions, his way of speaking, everything that makes Professor Chaos who he is. But it’s around this same time that I start to text a certain person more because we have a philosophy class together.” I return to the board and point to screenshots of text messages. 

“Here Butters talks about getting grounded for eating two cookies and here Professor Chaos talks about being grounded for wearing his villain outfit then got grounded for trying to get ungrounded.” I look between the cork board and Kyle, trying to justify my hypothesis with the urgency in my voice, “No one gets grounded as much as Butters. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that!”

“But that’s not even the smoking gun!” I exclaimed, pointing to another corner of the board, “Last week, Butters missed our philosophy class- which he has never done- and when I texted him, he said he was at a showing of Frozen on Ice with his mom in Denver. But when you look at the schedule for Frozen on Ice,” I pause for effect, “they don’t start shows for this season in Denver until next month. Right day, wrong month.” 

“But guess what was going on last week? Professor Chaos attacks main street and is tackled by Super Craig. Landing him with another defeat and some pretty gnarly bruises to boot. The kind of bruises you’d need to miss class to cover up.” I finished with a sigh, glad to finally tell someone the monologue that had been racing through my head for the past week. 

I brace myself for Kyle’s response. His eyes are locked onto the cork board and my scribbled sticky notes shouting various exclamations of discovery and panic. With a deep breath, he levels his gaze on me. 

What is he thinking? Is he trying to find a nice way to say I’ve lost it? Have I lost it?

“Yn-”  He begins but I cut him off. 

“I know it sounds crazy, okay? I know it sounds like I’m reaching by claiming the only truly nice person I know is the town’s resident fucking super villain-” 

“You’re right.” 

Kyle’s response blasts through my clouded mind. I physically take a step back as my face morphs from frantic stress to confusion. 

“What did you just say?” I ask, shoulders remaining tense as a hand twists into the fabric of my shirt. Kyle sighs, looking away and muttering something to himself. He raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes before looking back at me. 

“You’re right about Professor Chaos.”

The words I hoped to hear, the words I thought would finally take the weight off my shoulders and release the stress that had gripped my nerves, only intensified the panic in my mind. 

“You mean you believe me, right?” I started slowly, trying to clarify the simple language mistake Kyle made. 

“No, I mean you’re right.”

Before my mind could begin to wrap around the first revelation, Kyle continued speaking. 

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed to. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. But I know someone who can, or at least someone who has permission.”

I began shifting my weight from foot to foot, holding back the urge to begin pacing again as I ran a hand through my hair. 

“You know how cryptic you’re being right now, right?” I said. 

“Yeah I know.” Kyle's leg began to bounce as his own nerves began to peak through, “I’m walking a very thin line and I’m trying not to get us both into major trouble.” He looked up to me, trying to communicate a message I couldn’t understand. 

“With who?” 

“Someone with a lot more authority than me. Someone who can explain things more if you come with me.” Kyle urged. 

What does that even mean? Let’s not forget that he said we were right. How does he know that? Why does he know that?

My thoughts fought against each other to be the one addressed first but with so many questions, it felt impossible to single out one from the mass. Everything was happening so fast. Everything changed so fast. When did the mood of the room become so urgent? Did it always feel like this? 

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to pause the thoughts. Nothing is going to get done at this rate. So I need to take the first step forward. 

“Okay… yeah.”I started slowly. Kyle nodded and began to stand but I held up a hand for him to wait, “But only if you promise we can get ice cream afterwards.”

Kyle looked at me with an exasperated expression, “Are you seriously using this to get free ice cream?”

This is what he’s surprised by? 

I raised my eyebrow at him and pointed to the chaotic corkboard, “You just told me my batshit conspiracy theory was right and now you want me to follow you to an unknown location to talk to an unknown person. Fuck yes I want free ice cream.” 

Kyle considered the cork board for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. We’ll get ice cream.”

I muttered a quick “Fuck yeah.” to myself in celebration before looking back at Kyle, 

“Okay I’ll get my coat.” 

I grabbed my jacket and followed Kyle out the door, not nervous about where I’d be going, but scared that I wouldn’t like what I found.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

[chocotonez]

“bad day?” (txt)

a/n: hopefully the self indulgence isn’t obvious in this one </3, also thank you so so so much for 250+ followers! it’s absolutely mind boggling that I’ve gotten so much support, I’m so happy to know that many people enjoy my writing! I’m so incredibly thankful to have so many amazing people support me :)

warnings: cussing, crying, txt is comforting u after a bad day, reader can’t express their feelings in kai’s, listened to lizzo while writing this so it’s not that sad

yeonjun

-immediately realizes something’s off the second you open the door to your apartment

-he was there 2 bring you dinner and he honestly wasn’t even planning on staying but your ~~vibes~~ were just TOO off!!

-becomes a private investigator, probably subtly checks your private social media stories to see if you complained about anything during the day and not so subtly brings it up

-“hahaha so any weird peers that pissed you off because-“

-realizes you probably just want comfort and is like oh don’t worry bb <3

-I think he’ll say “chill” in that GRATING ABSOLUTELY MONTONE DEADPAN PATRONIZING tone the first few times there were bad bumps in ur relationships but over time he learns to comfort u and how to best communicate w u :]

-lets you rant and listens, never gives you unprompted advice and likes to make stupid innuendos to make u feel a teensy weensy bit better

-needs to see you at least smile once

-will hold and rock you in his arms while you sob your heart out, cooing and playfully calling you his baby

-says he’s not a simp but will run to the nearest convenience store because you wanted a specific snack and he just wants to make his baby happy <3

-even if no problems were fixed, as long as you go to sleep happy, satisfied, and okay, he’s okay <3

soobin

-I feel like he texts you in regular intervals during the day asking if ur okay, so he knows before u get home because you spent your whole lunch break ranting about your day :0

-manages to SCRAMBLE home b4 you to run a hot bath (after nearly breaking down in a self care store because how the hell were there so many options for a bath bomb), make dinner (he heated up takeout), and some flowers from the local grocery store <2

-it meant the world to you though, you got to cry in a bathtub while eating takeout and complaining to Soobin about how horrible everything is and u just wanna curl up in a ball and like cry

-he’s nodding and listening the whole way through, offers advice and reassurance, he’s no therapist but he somehow helps talk you through ever incoherent sad thought u have

-he’s very grounding as well, if he recognizes you’re overreacting he’ll try to like…make you think straight LMAO

-he’s so…comforting….he can just sit there and you’ll feel okay around him, it’s one of his best traits.

-lets u hold Odi or shows you cute odi pics if ur rlly sad, talks about the stupid shit beomgyu did today, he wants you to think of happy things, he doesn’t want you to sit on a problem 4 too long

-once it’s fixed, put it behind you! he’ll do everything to get you out of ur little rut, the light at the end of the tunnel <3

-sobbing. he probably sends motivational gifs like the dork he is </3

-once you’re both in bed and u thank him for being the best boyfriend in the world, he’ll just kiss the crown of your head and hold you closer

-he’ll take on any problem with you, for you

beomgyu

-dawg doesn’t even realize ur upset and accidentally pokes a bit too far

-he’s kinda sensitive and he notices u came home very resigned and quiet, so he worries he didn’t something wrong or ur ignoring him, so he kinda annoys you by poking and tickling u until u literally start crying and he feels like the worst boyfriend ever

-immediately cradles u and is panicking wondering what to do and he’s just like “I’m so sorry baby, I’m sorry, are you okay? Did something happen? Was it me?”

-wikihow 2 comfort ur romantic partner is the first thing in his search history tbh

-once he realizes thank god it wasn’t him who made you cry, just a bad day, he is here to save the day!! he pops on your favorite show/movie, gets your snacks, and holds u all close and snuggly till you fall asleep

-if you want to talk, he suggests going on a walk. he’ll hold your hand the entire time, or he’ll find a playground and you two will sit on the swings while u let it all out

-he wants you to feel heard, but he mainly just wants to see u smile, so he’ll do his best to take your mind off it. he’ll play games w u, tell you stupid stories, make dumb jokes, etc etc…

-he’ll stay up all night w u until you feel better, except he might accidentally fall asleep during an episode of your favorite show and when you wake him up he’ll be like “I was awake the whole time!! tf!!”

-sigh. what a loser (endearingly)

-at the end of the day, all he wants is for you to completely forget about your day and just focus on having a super great rest of your night!

taehyun

-he’s very emotionally intelligent, so not only does he pick up on it, he works to fix it almost immediately

-he’s kinda pushy but in a healthy way, doesn’t let you run from your problems especially if you can fix them

-but he knows when he needs to push you and when he needs to just lie stagnant with you, reassures u it’s okay to sit on your problems, you have time! use it!

-lays on the floor with you and lets u rant and cry, you don’t really have the energy to climb to the couch and he doesn’t wanna force you any more than necessary

-“man, you will not believe what this bitch said to me, she said-“ and he’ll back you tf up “what did that bitch say??”

-but he’s kinda mean and will make u recognize when you’re being the problem, but he’ll always side w you if that makes sense?? Like, he’ll tell you that you’re the one causing trouble, but he’ll also be like “that’s ok tho bb you deserve the world”

-at some point he just picks u up and drops you on the bed, helps you change n stuff, and just holds you. it’s comforting and quiet, but his hugs r healing I swear

-rubs soothing circles into your back and strokes your hair, the sound of your heartbeat lulling you to sleep, GAWD youve reached true peace

-tells you that everything will be okay rather than everything is okay cuz he recognizes problems in the moment like that </3 love him

-also if ur NOT the problem and that coworker Vanessa is causing problems he will not hesitate to shit talk someone he’s never met!!

-but at the end of the day, he’s just this big supportive rock you can always lean on

-he reminds you he’s always there for you, even when you’re being a little bit silly teehee

hyuka

-kinda suspects something’s up but doesn’t want to push you, he gets that some people need their space. but when it’s starting to interfere with your night routine and you keep shooting down all his attempts at asking if ur okay, it’s time to bring out the big guns

-there are no big guns. he just wants you to feel safe enough to talk, and if you don’t want to talk because you a.) don’t know how to express itself or b.) you don’t want to, he’ll still comfort you

-but like, casually…yknow? sends you funny tik toks, cuddles you 10x more, brushes your hair for you, etc…But it doesn’t feel patronizing, not from him

-kai just has this angel energy so it doesn’t feel like he’s pitying you, it just feels like you’re having a fun night :>, he’ll do clay face masks w u and paint ur nails and gossip about the latest news, let’s you cuddle any one of his plushies and kisses you all over ur face because you look adorable

-if you feel ready to talk, then ok! he’s here to listen! probably not the best at giving advice, but he really makes it a point to make you feel heard at least. he wants you to know he’s there for you, even if he kinda struggles w it :,)

-at the end of ur extra fun night, he’ll reassure you and tell you how much he loves you, he hopes all this will give u a base for a better day tmrw

-falls asleep holding you tight, giving you lazy kisses from time to time

-he just wants you to feel loved and happy <3

[good-beanswrites]

I skewed too far from the original request, (so you'll be getting another one with Es and this prompt soon) but for now have this 😂 It's based on that one sprinkler minigram, and uses @iris-drawing-stuff 's raincoat ideas for the other prisoners :3

When Es was told their duties would include watching over ten prisoners, they had expected escape attempts, lies and trickery, fights, or breakdowns. The reality was much worse. They had to keep ten morons out of mundane trouble. And the job was nonstop.

Today’s problem was a bit more intense than the usual stubbed toes and squabbles. Es had been surprised by the culprit behind the day’s stupidity -- after all, Shidou was usually the one stopping the others from causing mischief.

Though he would never admit to anything, Es was able to put the pieces together themself: Amane makes an offhand comment about missing the seasons. Someone with good handwriting anonymously requests a child’s raincoat and galoshes. (Unrelated, there was an issue with the request, and a dozen animal-themed raincoats had been delivered to the prison.) Then, burn marks appear around the sprinklers in Shidou’s cell, just the size of his little lighter. It wasn’t hard to see that he was the one that set off the major malfunction which was currently soaking every inch of the prison in sheets of freezing water.

At least they had extra raincoats. 

Es made their way to the panopticon, toolkit in hand. They had swapped their cape out for one of the raincoats. They’d turned it inside out in an attempt to hide the animal features. It made them feel more mature, which was necessary seeing as they had no experience with fixing sprinklers. As it turned out, neither did the prisoners. 

Two chairs had been precariously stacked within Shidou’s cell. Kotoko, wrapped in a wolf raincoat, stood on her toes at the top. She twisted the valve this way and that. Standing directly underneath, she avoided the brunt of the downpour. Kazui and Shidou stood at the base, one squeezed into a fox coat, the other, a shark. They both crossed their arms, offering Kotoko all of their observations and tips and suggestions. She ignored everything. It didn’t deter them from ‘helping.’

“Comin’ in hot!”

A black cat-clad Yuno hurried around the corner with a shout. Es stepped out of her way. She carried an armful of towels to stop up some of the deepening puddles. Mikoto flew by in the opposite direction to do the same. His dog ears flopped as he ran. Amane stood near the guard’s tower, entirely enveloped in her frog raincoat. She stood in perfect, calm silence, as if she were above all this nonsense. Es couldn’t agree more. Next to her, Muu openly sobbed within her calico cat coat.

No one seemed to notice as Es cleared their throat. “That’s enough,” they tried, “I can handle it from here.”

Kotoko didn’t even glance their way. “Let me just try one more thing. I’ve almost got it.”

“I’m telling you, it just needs a little twist,” Kazui urged her.

Es was bumped aside as Fuuta dragged another set of chairs into the cell. His raised voice was undermined by the mouse raincoat pulled over his head. “I told you, you’re doing it all wrong! Lemme at it.”

“I’m serious. As warden, I --”

Their protests were drowned out by Mahiru’s voice from behind. They turned to find two bunny raincoats bouncing along. 

“This way, Haruka ~!” With much enthusiasm and grand hand gestures, Mahiru directed him to set down some industrial sized buckets at regular intervals. “Perfect…” They quickly began to fill.

Shidou pointed. “Right there, can you move that piece?”

“I already told you,” Kotoko grit her teeth. “I don’t need to touch that.” She wobbled atop the chair.

Fuuta had climbed onto his own stack. “You guys aren’t fucking listening.” He reached out, but Kotoko swatted his hands away. “Hey!” It was his turn to teeter.

“Yuno, I need more towels, stat!” At Mikoto’s urgent call, Yuno came sprinting past. 

Es opened their mouth to stop her, but it was too late. Her foot slid through a puddle. With a cry, she was thrown flat on her face. 

Mahiru gasped. Trying to run to her aid, one of her uniform straps hooked on a bucket near Muu and Amane’s feet. She yanked it forward.

The splash rose up and soaked their uncovered legs. Muu sobbed harder. 

Haruka, of course, wanted to help. He immediately ran into another bucket, sending him stumbling and splashing to the ground.

“Oi, Yuno! I said I needed another towel!”

Kazui made another comment on the sprinkler. Fuuta leaned in real close to get a better look. With a huff, Kotoko tugged on the valve. It jammed around so that the wide spray converged into a single, high-pressure stream. 

The jet aimed directly at Fuuta’s face. 

His sputtering cursing followed him the long way to the ground. Shidou and Kazui leapt to catch him as he fell. Both miraculously forgot that their shoes rested in several inches of water, because their arms flailed wildly for each other and the fallen chairs as they slipped.

Es’ frown twitched.

“Idiots. They’re all idiots.”