#i was at most three seconds away from bursting into laughter the entire time i was reading this aloud

[cosmicanakin]

(sorta) long awaited PART 2 to this DEAN BLURB. 🍋‍🟩

i'm shit at writing a second part to any standalone FICS or BLURBS so i'm rlly sorry if this isn't the 'makeup sex' type blurb yall were lookin' for <3

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | emotional vulnerability | strong language | semi-public sex | rough sex | praise kink | dirty talk (yum) | jealousy | overstimulation | POSSESSIVE!DEAN | power dynamics | mirror sex. ఌ�� EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

the bar is loud, filled with the familiar hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. you sit at a table near the back, surrounded by a few of your close friends—hunters like you, women who know the life, know the dangers, and are just as good at blowing off steam after a successful hunt. tonight, the drinks flow easily, and the laughter comes even easier. it's rare to get a reprieve like this, to have a night off where you can just relax and enjoy yourself. you deserve it. you know you do.

but even as your friends trade stories and jokes, your mind keeps drifting. keeps circling back to him. DEAN WINCHESTER. it's been weeks since you left him in that motel room, since you walked away without an explanation, with only a hastily written note. you haven't spoken to him since, haven't called, haven't reached out. not because you didn't want to. GOD, you wanted to. but fear held you back. fear of what he felt, of what you felt, of how everything had changed with those three words he'd let slip between gasps of pleasure.

i love you.

you still hear his voice in your head, still feel the way his body had tensed beneath you when he realized what he'd said. you'd thought about calling him a hundred times, a thousand times actually, to tell him you felt the same. that the reason you ran was because you were scared—scared of how much you loved him, how deeply you'd fallen without even realizing it. but every time you picked up the phone, you hesitated, and the moment passed.

now, sitting in this bar, surrounded by friends, you can't help but wonder if you made a mistake. if walking away from him was the worst decision you could've made. but before you can spiral any further, you hear it—a laugh. a deep, familiar laugh that sends a shock of recognition through your entire body.

you freeze, your drink halfway to your lips, as you turn your head and see him. DEAN WINCHESTER. standing at the entrance of the bar, his brother, sam, by his side. dean doesn't see you at first, too busy scanning the room, probably taking in the scene out of habit, always the hunter, always alert. but then his eyes snap to yours.

it feels like the air is sucked from the room. your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. he looks just like you remember—broad shoulders, brown leather jacket, that chiseled jawline you've traced with your fingers more times than you can count. but there's something in his eyes, a flicker of something raw and unresolved, and you know he's thinking about that night, about the last time you saw each other.

he doesn't move. neither do you.

but his gaze lingers on you, even as a blonde woman sidles up to him, clearly trying to get his attention. she's pretty—tall, curvy, the kind of woman who turns heads in a place like this. but dean barely spares her a glance, his eyes locked on you like he can't tear himself away. you feel a surge of something hot and uncomfortable twist in your chest—jealousy, anger, desire. god, you miss him. you miss him so much it hurts.

and it's not just him. it's the way he made you feel, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way his hands felt on your skin, rough and gentle all at once. the way he'd held you that night, the way he'd said he loved you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. like he couldn’t help it.

you tear your gaze away, pretending to focus on the conversation at your table, but your mind is spinning. your body is buzzing with the awareness of him, of how close he is, of how much you want him. but the thought of facing him, of having that conversation, of admitting how you feel... it terrifies you.

so you do the only thing you can think of. you excuse yourself, telling your friends you need to use the bathroom, and slip away from the table, weaving through the crowded bar until you reach the small, dingy restroom at the back. you close the door behind you, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection in the cracked mirror.

your heart is racing, your skin flushed, and all you can think about is dean. about the way his muscles flexed under that leather jacket, the way he looked at you like he was starving for you. heat pools low in your belly, and filthy thoughts flood your mind—thoughts of him pressing you against the mirror, fucking you from behind until you're a mess, just like he did that night in the motel.

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it's no use. your body wants him. you want him.

and then the door creaks open.

your eyes snap open, and you see him—dean, standing in the doorway, his eyes dark with that same hunger you feel. he steps inside, closing the door behind him, locking it with a click. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't move, can't speak, as he crosses the small space between you, his body heat radiating off him in waves.

he doesn't say a word. he doesn't have to.

his hands are on you in an instant, rough and desperate, pulling at your clothes, as you do the same to him. his leather jacket hits the floor, followed by your shirt, your jeans, his belt clinking as he yanks it free. his breath is hot against your neck, and he's whispering in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"you're such a bad girl for leaving me like that," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but god, y'feel so fucking good... s'perfect."

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes your lips as he spins you around, pressing you against the mirror. your breath fogs the glass as his hands grip your hips, his body pressing against yours from behind. he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a force that makes your knees buckle, but his strong arms hold you steady, keep you grounded.

you're a mess beneath him, a blubbering, trembling mess as he fucks you hard and fast, his hips pistoning into yours with a desperation that matches your own. he's everywhere, all at once—his hands, his mouth, his body consuming you, and you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel.

"you're mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive in your ear. "you've always been mine."

and it's true. you know it's true. you've always been his.

you lose track of time, of how many times you come, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your body shaking with the force of it. by the time he finally pulls out of you, you're spent, your legs trembling, your breath ragged. but dean takes care of you, cleaning you up, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he helps you back into your clothes, his touch gentle and tender, so different from the roughness of moments ago.

when you're both dressed, you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and without thinking, you pull him into a kiss. it's not like the others—it's not fueled by lust or desperation. this kiss is soft, slow, full of something deeper, something you've been too afraid to admit 'til now.

when you finally pull away, dean looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "what was that for?" he asks, his voice quiet, vulnerable.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "i love you," you admit, the words catching in your throat. "and i'm sorry for leaving you like that. i was scared. but, fuck… i love you too, dean. i always have."

the smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise, brilliant and beautiful. he pulls you close again, pressing his body into yours. "yeah?"

"yeah," you whisper back. "turns out you're kind of hard to resist, winchester."

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where you're pressed against him. "good thing i'm not trying to resist you anymore either, sweetheart."

when you eventually make your way back to the bar, sam takes one look at your slightly disheveled appearance and dean's stupid grin and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. your friends are also giving you knowing looks, and the blonde from earlier has long since found another target.

none of that matters, because dean's hand finds yours again, and this time, neither of you are running anywhere. he also pulls you close to him again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of something more.

something real.

꣑୧ UNOFFICIAL TAGLIST. @anqeliclust @aileenunfiltered @embarrasingmf @stereotypicalbarbie @ninii-winchester @suckitands33 @ohheyguyss @spxideyver @artyandink @titsout4nicholas 𓂃 ݁ 𖦹

[doromoni]

Hunting Affections

Charles Leclerc x photographer! reader

Max Verstappen x photographer! reader

Part 2.

fanfic + smau fic

y/n faceclaim : Hwang Eunbi

warning : angst , mild swearing

A/N : UP FOR EDITING 🤍

<previous next>

Summary; Love is but a concept — just connections of neurons that take part in the brain … and yet, why is it the most painful when one falls alone?

or

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back , until you can’t no more. Maybe then they’ll actually know what they’ve lost.

(Conversations are in bold)

It’s been three years since we’ve officially met, 1095 days since I first took a photo of you — your eyes were shining, cheeks red from the heat of the weather and the engine of the car you were driving. Your face was glowing when you held out your hand and introduced yourself to me, then asking if I was the intern that your pr manager talked about. To this day, I still remember your laugh after I had failed to introduce myself with coherence since I kept choking on my words.

“H-hello Mr. Leclerc , I’m Y/N . May I take your camera with my picture?” Blood rushed to my cheeks , when what I said started to sink in.

Panicked, words just continued to come out of my mouth.“I MEAN CAN I PICTURE YOUR CAMERA?— No! Uhm , The car can I take a photo? with you? that doesn’t makes sense either.. i’ll just shut up” cursing myself as i felt my palms starting to sweat and the dress I’ve had on was growing tighter.

You stared at me for a solid 3 seconds , then you bursted out laughing — a full on belly ache inducing laugh with hands on your knees as tears streamed your cheeks . Seeing you laugh with such intensity , made me laugh to the same degree . People had started giving us odd glances , yet you did not care and now our faces are red for a whole entire reason.

Wiping the remaining tears with the back of your hand , laughter now turning into soft chuckles— “ Don’t worry , I sometimes lose my English too! And please just call me Charles” you then gave me your smile. A smile that I would come to realize that I should’ve treasured more.

We clicked in an instant , I could honestly say that it was frightening how fast we grew closer to each other. We shared so many memories together and I took each moment with a photo. I met your mom, she was so lovely .Then I met your brothers , they said they loved me more than they do you . You then took me to your own special place , a place hidden within your hometown. We were supposed to be at a company event to celebrate you and your teammate’s win — instead you sneaked us out and went to the secluded beach with the most gorgeous of sceneries a person with my passion could ever encounter. We did nothing but gaze at the stars , fingers intertwined, declaring our promises to the wind.

I grew fonder of you with every second that we spent together. At times like those, you where not my boss and I was not your employee — we were just 2 people getting away from the life of fame and glamour. We were content. We were happy, until we weren’t.

Our moments became fewer, but I understood that you were busy. You were starting to grow distant, yes, I had noticed. I asked if you were alright, you just smiled and nodded— yet I saw your eyes no longer holding the shine it once had. Your mom called, she asked if I was alright and that she and your brothers missed me at dinner last night. I lied to your mom and said that I was sick, she said that she’ll tell you to invite me again for the next family dinner … I didn’t receive an invite. I tried not to overthink , I thought that you just forgot, but your mom called again and then another time . Twice is a coincidence, Thrice is a pattern.

Maybe I was overstepping my boundaries, so I gave you space, we weren’t even dating … are we? I don’t even know. A week of space flew by , you were knocking at my door again with a smile and flowers at hand. I thought that we were ok , I had hope . But then another week came — we were at work, I gave you a smile but you didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

Now it’s a game of push and pull . Where it is always I who pulls and you who pushes. What happened to us? I cannot honestly say — only you have the answer, yet you wont even try.

Sports Hub Daily ————

Formula 1 Driver Charles Leclerc Spotted Looking Very Cozy with an Unknown Brunette

Article by : Millie Born

Charles Leclerc , a driver for the renowned Formula 1 racing team Ferrari, was spotted at looking quite close and cozy with an unknown woman during the PGA Tour yesterday afternoon. The two were reported to be sharing a number of intimate actions amongst themselves all throughout the game and was seen to be leaving together inside Leclerc’s Black Ferrari Pista. Just who is this woman— fans are eager to find more! Is she the new girlfriend of the Monegasque driver? Will the paddock be welcoming a new “Wag” to the roster?, or is this just a fling to the “Il Predestinato” of Ferrari… Only time will tell.

navi.exe

comments are disabled

y/n_stills.

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 383,560 others

y/n_stills. You’ve saved the day. My personal hero 💙

lewishamilton Happy to see you well taken cared of. Miss you, kiddo!

y/n_stills. aww miss you Lew!! , I’ll drop by the merc motorhome next GP and hug you till you get annoyed🥰

georgerussell63 what about me? @y/n_stills.

y/n_stills. and what about you Russell George? @georgerussell63

lewishamilton kids play nice.

y/n_stills. sorry pops.

maxvertappen1 Always 💙

liked by y/n_stills.

kimimatiasraikkonen who?

y/n_stills. Bwoah, hi Kimi!! I missed you. I’ll call Minttu and I’ll tell ya both🫶

lilymhe wow, I just finished a tournament only to find out that I’ve already lost you?!

alexalbon excuse me?

y/n_stills. @lilymhe NO! MY LOVE , forgive me I’m only yours forever! Oh, Hi @alexalbon … what are you doing here?

danielricciardo I didn’t receive my invitation? very disappointed 1/5 stars, will not recommend.

landonorris same experience , will also rate 1/5.

y/n_stills. What kind of substance are you two on? Send me the link, looks fun. 5/5 is interested

maxverstappen1 they’re high on mclaren tractor fumes. I do not recommend @y/n_stills.

y/n_stills. Sheeesh Emilian ya didn’t have to roast them too hard 🫣

landonorris @maxverstappen1 WOW…true, but wow.

danielricciardo this is not the proper way of treating your bestfriends @maxverstappen1 . 1/5 star friend.

arthur_leclerc @y/n_stills. Dinner soon! We miss you >:((

ollibearman yeah! @y/nstills. >:((

y/n_stills. alright chill you goblins! Give me the time and date.

Comments on this post has been limited

“What the hell?”

[blarefordaglare]

Fan Joy July day 9

This one’s by @theegh0st

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/theegh0st/754145854541250560/shenanigans?source=share

OH MY GOODNESS those two would most def play cards together! I also love how you emphasize Wind slapping down his card, it’s a beautiful detail that really adds character! Overall the way that the characters poses are fluid is really pleasing to see, and gives personality! I hope you enjoy this fic! 

Also this game reminds me of the game “War” I would play when I was younger (split deck in half, whoever gets all cards wins, there’s more rules on google or smth) so that’s what they’re playing! Also they both cheat, except wind has mischievous cheating legend is more of a card counter type cheating, but obviously you can’t count cards in this game but statistics wise- 

___

“Please Legend!” The youthful, whiney tone of the sailor echoed softly against the damp leaves and the dark, grand, trees, “It’s more fun when you play! I promise I’ll go easy on you!” Wind tugged on the seasoned hero’s calloused hand, yet his feet remained put on the muddy ground. 

Legend inhaled sharply, trying desperately to keep his patience, which was quickly evaporating into the atmosphere, “That’s what I’m worried about,” he fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, the thread coming out and a light rip slowly growing into a hole-he would have to sew that later, “your ‘easy’ is just a glorified cheating.” 

Wind continued to pull, not letting go easily, “Fine! One game-please! It will be fair I promise!” He was borderline desperate at this point, anything to tame the storm of boredom within his mind, “Please! You can’t cheat at war! I promise I won’t switch the cards-you can shuffle!” 

At that point Legend wanted to run, he wanted to yank his arm away and sprint away from that boy as fast as possible, but he was already too far deep, and he could show off his shuffling skills, “…Fine. Ace is high, and no looking at your own cards either. We shuffle after one of us finishes our deck.” 

“Sounds good!” 

Legend split the deck evenly, making sure to include two aces on each side-sure that wasn’t mandatory, but it made things easier for him to keep track of the sailor. He knew he would cheat, after all he did cheat many times before (Legend would never admit it, but he does miss his full wallet.). After successfully splitting the remaining 48 cards, along with shuffling the two decks, the game was ready to commence.

The first round started off smoothly, as the adventurer expected. However, as the game continued, he couldn’t help but notice the grin on Wind’s smile becoming wider and wider, and his pile growing closer and closer to a full deck. 

It was only until Legend and Wind both drew aces at the same time. Currently, Legend knew he had three aces in his deck from previous winnings. He also knew that the three were on the top, so he would be guaranteed a win. It was cheating, he wasn’t supposed to look at his cards, but you can’t trust the adventurer when a game he doesn’t even enjoy gets too intense. Yet, as the two yelled ‘duel’ and slapped down their cards, he was left with the sailor somehow having a second ace. There were only supposed to be four aces in the entire deck, but with Wind having another one, it added up to five.

“Sailor?” Legend’s voice was stern yet inquisitive as he spoke.

“Yes?” 

He tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, “You’re-“ he took a moment to collect himself, “You’re cheating.” 

Wind gasped in mock surprise, “Am not!” The wavering in his voice exposed the feigned innocence, “I promised I wouldn’t!” 

Legend took the two aces from the sailor, then exposing his own three, “The numbers don’t lie, Wind.” With a look of pure mischief, he grabbed a large handful of dirt from the ground, “And you know what happens to cheaters?” 

“No!” Wind shrieked, trying to scramble away as the dark earth was rubbed into his pale blonde hair, “Stop! No! Help! My hair is being murdered!” 

“Then maybe next time don’t cheat.” the adventurer got up, admiring his revenge, “Now excuse me, but I have a tunic to mend.” 

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 15]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

You assumed Eden must have told the boys that you were working from your home studio temporarily. Of course, only Wooyoung knew the truth as to why you had to work from home. 

“Wooyoung, are you sure it’s okay for you to be here so much?” You asked as you prepared lunch for the three of you. 

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want me to come...?” He tilted his head.

“Of course not. You being here with Haneul has been a great help. And I think she likes you too.” You smiled softly. Another thing is now Wooyoung knows what you look like without a mask. So you haven’t had to wear a mask when he comes over to visit.

“It’s no big deal for me because I love kids. And I like her too. She’s amazing.” Wooyoung giggled. You felt your heart swell with pride hearing him talking about how great Haneul was. 

“Oppa! Come!” Haneul called.

“Coming, my princess~” Wooyoung replied, prancing away to the child. Just like you, Haneul got Wooyoung wrapped around her finger.  

“I’m gonna leave this to boil. I’ll be right back.” You told Wooyoung, going into your studio. You had a call with Hongjoong and Eden, just an update call about the progress of work. 

“Is unnie playing games?” Haneul turned to Wooyoung after seeing you disappear into the work room. 

“No, princess. She’s not playing games, she’s working.” Wooyoung explained, gently moving Haneul to sit on his lap to play instead. 

“She’s always busy.” Haneul pouted. 

“Your unnie works really hard. Do you know how cool she is? She makes music for people. Like me. Your unnie makes the music then I sing and dance.” Wooyoung tried his best to explain your job and his job to the kid.

“Unnie is cool?” Haneul tilted her head. To her, you have always just been the older sister that took care of her. She was too young to understand the meaning and extravagance of your jobs, producing music and meeting famous idols. But you liked that, you liked how she treated you normally. You were just her older sister, nothing more, nothing less.

“Super cool. She’s way cooler than me.” Wooyoung gave a thumbs up. Hanuel’s eyes lit up in amazement, making Wooyoung laugh and pinch her cheek while cooing.

Wooyoung decided to let Haneul watch the ‘Wave’ music video, considering it was the most ‘light hearted’ music video and wouldn’t scare her.

“Ooh, red! Like Ariel!” Haneul pointed excitedly at Hongjoong’s red hair, comparing her to the famous mermaid. Wooyoung burst out laughing at how cute she was, nearly falling to his knees for her.

“See? That’s my best friend. His name is San.” Wooyoung paused and pointed to the blonde. 

“Who is that?” Wooyoung paused the video again. 

“Oppa! Wooyoung oppa!” Haneul pointed the real version next to her.

“That’s right! You’re so smart.” He patted her head while complimenting her. They continued to watch the video together, Haneul excitedly pointing at Wooyoung every time he appeared on the screen. 

“What’s so funny?” You came out after the call, hearing Haneul’s shrieking laughter. You turned to see the video of Ateez on the television.

“Lunch is ready.” You announced to the two. While you scooped the food and put the dishes on the coffee table, Wooyoung brought Haneul to wash her hands. You had a second, staring at the paused performance video of the entire group on the screen. 

“Everything okay?” Wooyoung asked, noticing you were lost in your thoughts. You nodded, going to scoop the rice. You placed Haneul’s rice and soup together in the dish, cutting up the other food for her to eat. 

“Here you go, baby.” You placed the kids plate in front of her. She picked up the spoon excitedly.

“What do we say?” You stopped her before digging in.

“Thank you for the food.” She grinned. 

“Good girl.” You stroked her head. With Haneul being around you more, you took the oppotunity to try and guide her through things. Wooyoung sat on the other side of Haneul, digging into the food.

“Mmm, it’s good.” He said, taking a sip of the soup. 

“Thanks. There’s not much in the refridgerator, I’ll have to order groceries soon.” You noted. Haneul has only been with you for a little over a week and yet you found yourself having to adjust to a new schedule like ordering more groceries, having to cook more instead of ordering take out and remembering there was someone who you needed to care for. 

“Do you miss the others?” Wooyoung asked. He knew that look you had earlier when looking at the screen. 

“I guess I’m used to seeing them everyday. Then now, I’m not seeing them at all. Except you, of course.” You chuckled. Even if you didn’t directly answer his question, Wooyoung knew your answer.

“You can still meet them. I’ll watch Haneul for a bit.” Wooyoung said.

“It’s okay. It’s not like we’re forbidden to see each other. Besides, I should be spending more time with Haneul now that she’s here.” You stroked Haneul’s head.

“Yeah, take this time to relax too, Indigo. Just have fun with Haneul and rest.” Wooyoung advised.

After lunch, Wooyoung had a schedule to go for so he left. You didn’t want to leave Haneul alone to work so you decided to both get dressed and go to the grocery store. It was more fun than to get them delivered.

“Ready?” You asked. Haneul nodded her head, slipping her hand into yours. The bus ride to the grocery store wasn’t too long. Haneul was constantly amazed by the scenary and everything in the big city, no matter how many times she came to stay with you. 

“Up you go.” Upon arriving, you carried her so she could sit in the cart. It was good that she could rest and you wouldn’t have to constantly watch her.

“Eomuk!” She pointed excitedly. 

“Want eomuk?” You asked. She nodded her head vigorously. You usually made stir fried fishcakes with a sweet soy sauce for her to eat with rice, it’s the only time you see her eat two bowls of rice.

“Alright, let’s get some eomuk.” You took some bags off the shelf and placed it into the cart.

“Yoghurt... Strawberry or peach?” You asked, holding up the two. 

“I like both!” She grinned. 

“We’ll get both.” You put them into the cart. Haneul was a little upset when she came back to your house and all her yoghurt was gone. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought them all to song camp for Hongjoong to finish.

When you were out with Haneul, you never wore your mask. No one would recognise you anyway. Plus, Haneul liked it when you didn’t wear your mask. 

“Cereal, biscuits, fruits, meat...” You checked your list, looking back to the cart to make sure you what you needed.

“Last stop, vegetables.” You went to the vegetable section to get what looked good. After that, you paid for everything and took a cab home with Haneul. You didn’t want to struggle with carrying the groceries and taking public transport with her so taking a cab was easier. You loaded a game for Haneul to play on your phone, just so you could put the groceries away.

Hongjoong was sitting by the pantry tables, eating his food when his phone rang. He swallowed his food before picking up the call. 

“Hello? Indigo?” Hongjoong wasn’t expecting a call from you, considering how he had a conference call with you and Edenary this morning regarding the projects. There was no noise on the other side expect some rustling.

“Hello...?” Hongjoong was going to hang up, thinking you may have accidentally butt-dialed him. 

“...Hi?” 

“Huh? Who is this? Indigo, if this is some sort of joke or prank call. You’re not very funny...” The voice that Hongjoong heard was definitely not yours. If you were doing an impersonation, it was rather convincing. 

“Haneul.” 

“Hanuel?” He frowned in confusion. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he double checked that the caller ID was yours. Wooyoung walked into the pantry, fresh out of his fitness training. 

“What’s wrong, hyung? Who are you talking to?” Wooyoung asked when he noticed the captain’s weird expression.

“Not sure. Some kid named Haneul is using Indigo’s phone and called me. Either that or Indigo mimics a child’s voice very well.” Hongjoong explained. At his words, Wooyoung visibly stiffened. He tried to hide his expression of shock but it was too late. 

“Yah. Jung Wooyoung, what are you hiding?” Hongjoong glared at the younger male. Wooyoung gulped, opening his mouth to deny knowing anything but he forgot Haneul was still on the line.

“Wooyoung oppa?!” 

“Yah! Haneul ah, what are you doing?! Who are you talking to?!” Your voice was heard on the other line and just like that, the call was cut. 

“Explain.” Hongjoong frowned. Wooyoung winced, if only Haneul didn’t call out to him. He gulped, unsure of what he was supposed to tell Hongjoong. It wasn’t his story to tell. 

“Hang on.” Wooyoung ran away, despite Hongjoong yelling out his name. He took his phone out to call you. 

“Ouh, Wooyoung.” 

“How are you calm?! Haneul just called Hongjoong and she recognised me, even called out my name! Now Hongjoong hyung is demanding an explanation and I don’t know what to tell him. He looks so scary. I think he’s going to come hunt me down until I give him some sort of excuse as to why I know the child that called him.” Wooyoung rambled.

“It’s fine, Wooyoung. Calm down. Anyway, it’s my fault for letting Haneul use my phone and not watching her properly. It’s not like Haneul is in witness protection. You can tell him.” 

“Are you sure?” Wooyoung paced up and down. He had no idea why he was more stressed about this than you.  

“Yeah. Maybe it’s better that he knows so he will understand why I am not in the studio and won’t be suspicious of you when you leave the dorm.” 

“Oh, that’s true... Okay, I’ll tell him about Haneul but I won’t tell him that I’ve seen you without your mask. I think that’s irrelevant information and it’s my special secret with you.” Wooyoung declared, making you laugh.

“Sure, Wooyoung. Thank you. It might be easier for me to invite him over to work on music. And he can meet Haneul, I’m sure she will be very intrigued by his hair.” 

“No way! Haneul is mine. She can only look at me as her oppa.” Wooyoung scoffed. 

“Alright, alright. Geez, I’m starting to think I’m not the most protective and possessive over her anymore.” 

After you hung up, Wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot (which was just the accessibility bathroom with the door locked) and went to find Hongjoong. But before Hongjoong could yell at Wooyoung, the younger covered the older’s mouth with his hand and dragged him to his studio. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Hongjoong crossed his arms with a frown, watching Wooyoung look around the corridor to make sure there was no one before closing the door and locking it. 

“I’ll explain to you who Haneul is. But it is a secret and you cannot tell the others. I’ve already asked for permission from Indigo.” Wooyoung said.

“O...kay?” Hongjoong tilted his head. 

The two sat down and Wooyoung told Hongjoong everything, even having to suddenly go get Haneul out of nowhere while the rest were making their way back from song camp. And that being the reason he knew about Haneul.

“So she’s been supporting Haneul this whole time? On her own?” Hongjoong asked. Wooyoung nodded in confirmation.

“But she’s still working a lot so I go over to help her with Haneul some times. Especially when she has calls and doesn’t want to leave Haneul on her own, unattended.” Wooyoung explained. 

“That’s where you have been disappearing to?” 

“Yeah, when we don’t have schedules, I just drop by. Been doing it since the end of song camp.” Wooyoung said.

“Indigo should have just told us. She could take time off work and be with Haneul rather than have to juggle both work and caring for the child full time.” Hongjoong shook his head.

“That’s the thing. You know how dedicated she is to her work. She won’t take any breaks or stop working. And Indigo is very protective of Haneul, more than she is of her own identity. Like she doesn’t want too many people to know about her or meet her. There might be an underlying reason why but I don’t know it to that extent.” Wooyoung said. 

“She must be special to Indigo then.” Hongjoong stated and Wooyoung nodded, noticing how you just look at Haneul with so much love and adoration. 

“I’ll respect her wishes. I won’t say anything to the others but now that I know the actualy reason why she’s working from home, I’m glad everything is actually okay.” Hongjoong let out a sigh of relief. 

“She said it would be easier if you knew since you might need to go to her home studio to work.” Wooyoung conveyed.

“I guess so. We were trying to avoid that so as to not intrude on her privacy and personal space. But if you say so, I’ll drop her a text later.” Hongjoong said. 

“Haneul... Same name as San’s sister.” Hongjoong chuckled.

“Right? You will see it when you meet her... But all I can say is, you can tell that the kid was raised by Indigo. She’s so... smart and independent. Yet, all you want to do is take care of her.” Wooyoung laughed. 

“She’s adorable. An amazing kid.” He continued to gush over Haneul. Wooyoung was always a fan of kids but Hongjoong has never seen him this head over heels before.

While you didn’t scold Haneul for calling Hongjoong, you did tell her how it was wrong to speak to strangers and that she wasn’t allowed to leave the game to do other things on your phone. You conveyed it as keeping her safe, which Haneul understood and apologised for. 

“Sleep well.” You whispered as Haneul napped. She must have been tired since she fell asleep while playing so you carried her to the room. 

“Alright.” You took the opportunity to clean up. You cleared the toys, cleaned the floors and did the laundry. To clean the floors, you did Seonghwa’s four step method; sticky roller, vacuum, mop and sticky roller again. 

After that was done, you sat down to do some work. You made sure you didn’t fully cover both ears with your headphones to be able to hear if Haneul needed you. 

“This needs a re-recording of the guide...” You typed out on your notes. 

‘I think I’ll need to re-record the guide for draft 27B before submitting it. There were some revisions made to the chorus, as per our conversation yesterday. - Indigo’

‘Sure. I’ll take note of it and ask Jongho to come in. - Eden’

‘I added the extra percussions to draft 29A like you asked for. Let me know if you need any edits. - Peperoni’

‘Draft 42′s chorus is done and ready for vetting before the guide recording can be done. - Oliv’

‘I’m still working on the arrangement for the chorus for draft 91. I’ll need more time because I need to work with Seonghwa on his next cover release first, which is the priority now. - Maddox’

This is usually how you communicated with each other, everyone in a group chat, updating on the status of their works. You all never needed to address each other, you just knew what information was relevant to you. With so many projects that were going on simultaneously, this was the best for Eden to keep track of everyone. 

‘LAKOV sent back the raw piano for Hongjoong’s upcoming cover song. I’ll need to overlay it with Hongjoong before I can start the recording. - Jangmoon’

‘I just saw the track you sent me from song camp. I will do the MIDI mixing by the end of this week and send it back to you. - LEEZ’ 

‘Thanks everyone for accommodating to me working from home. - Indigo’

‘No need to thank. We hope you’re resting well, family comes first, work can be done later. - Eden’

With how hard everyone was working and the boys being excited over the tracks you have been working on together, there was no way you could take time off. You just had to manage your time between Haneul and work. 

“Unnie?” You heard Haneul and turned around. She stood there, holding her stuffed rabbit by the foot.

“Hey, baby.” You rolled over to her. While she yawned, you picked her up and sat her in your lap. Still half asleep, she leaned her head on your chest. You wheeled yourself back to the desk and continued to do the last bit of your work. Haneul didn’t mind, content with just sitting on your lap. 

*Kim Hongjoong is requesting a video call*

“Oh, Hongjoong.” You answered the call, wearing your mask and propping the phone against the bottom corner of your computer. Hongjoong’s face came to view. Although, he leaned in when he noticed Haneul. 

“Is that her? Hello~” Hongjoong gave a friendly wave and smile. Haneul was disinterested, not moving to greet whoever was talking. 

“Yes, I’m assuming Wooyoung told you already... This is Haneul. Sorry, she just woke up from a nap.” You apologised.

“No worries, we’re all like that after a nap.” He laughed. 

“You work too hard, Indigo. You should be resting more, I’m sure you’re using whatever time Haneul is sleeping to work in the studio right? Tch, I know you too well.”

“If you just called me to nag at me, I’m hanging up.” You threatened, eyes on your computer screen instead of him. 

“Okay, fine. I actually called because Wooyoung said you’re fine with me coming to work with you in your home studio. So I just wanted to check what your schedule is like. I am free tomorrow night... My schedule ends at 5pm. If night time is not good, we can just reschedule or we can work separately and discuss it online like we have been doing.”

“No, night time is actually good. I usually try to get Haneul to bed by 9 ish. I’ll prepare your share of dinner then.” You said. Haneul started whining and squirming to get off your lap.

“What do you need?” You asked her. 

“Yoghurt...” She mumbled. 

“Okay, hang on.” You told Hongjoong, holding her hand to take her to the kitchen. Haneul chose one of the strawberry yoghurt tubes to eat. She sat on the ground next to you, enjoying the sweet snack. 

“Now, I want some yoghurt too.” Hongjoong mumbled. You watched him take the phone to the company fridge.

“You’re a 5 year old, Kim Hongjoong.” You scoffed, looking at him rummage through the fridge for a yoghurt cup. He found one with ‘Park Seonghwa’ on it.

“I’m sure Seonghwa won’t mind. I’ll just buy him another one to replace it.” Hongjoong shrugged as he tossed the label aside with no care in the world. You clicked your tongue, shaking your head at him.

“That’s very bad behaviour, Hongjoong. I’m telling Seonghwa right now.” You screenshotted Hongjoong eating the yoghurt before opening the messaging app to send Seonghwa the picture, telling him that the yoghurt Hongjoong was eating in the picture was his.

“YAH! KIM HONGJOONG!” You heard Seonghwa. 

“Wow, I didn’t think he was actually still at the company building.” You laughed in amazement while Hongjoong starting running.

“Why would you do that?! ...curse you!” Hongjoong said to you as he ran. He would have actually cursed at you but he remembered that Haneul was within earshot and you definitely wouldn’t want her to hear that. 

~

Series Masterlist

[hugheswritetr]

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MASTERLIST

Heartbeat | Jack Hughes

Author’s note: so from now on, the parts will be written in individual POV’s. I will also add outfits I imagined, but you can imagine your own too. The past four chapters were prologue, but this is current time for Jack and Thalia:)

Song: Homecoming- Kanye West

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Thalia’s POV

"Miss? Miss?" I was abruptly jolted back to consciousness by the gentle voice of the flight attendant. “We are landing soon,, her words pulling me out of the deep sleep that had enveloped me. “Thank you,, I thanked her blinking away the remnants of drowsiness, I realized with a mix of surprise and anticipation that we were about to touch down.

As the plane descended, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It had been three long years since I last saw my family, and the anticipation of reuniting with them after my time in Switzerland was almost overwhelming. The most important reason for my return was Mattheo’s upcoming NHL Draft in Dallas, he worked for this his entire life and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else if not beside him.

Quinn was also eligible for the draft, being in the same year as Mattheo, so that was another thing I was looking forward to. During the past three years the two eldest brothers became good friends, the time I spent on FaceTime with Mattheo and Quinn beside him is not possible to count on two hands, you would need a lot more.

Switzerland had become my second home, but I was more than ready to finally return home.

When the aircraft touched down on the Michigan ground, a surge of emotions washed over me. The anxiety of seeing my family again after such a long absence mingled with the joy of being reunited, my heart racing in anticipation.

As I make my way through security, handing over my passport, my hands tremble. Finally through security, I scan the crowd, searching for my mom and brother.

And there they are, standing near the arrival gate. My mother standing there with her elegant stance that I so dearly missed. My brother once thin frame of 15 year old boy now transformed into broad shoulders and hard stance of 18 year adult shaped by the professional hockey training he endured past three years when I was away.

,, Mom!” I screamed at her making her turn her head, the comforting feeling of her eyes connecting with mine calming my anxieties.

"Thalia?" My mother's voice trembled with emotion as she ran to me. Without a word, we embraced, holding onto each other tightly, as if afraid that this moment was too good to be true. After all, three years was a really long time to spend away from your family.

“Thalia, my love, welcome home,, my mom exclaims, eyes filled with motherly affection. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,mom” I reply, my voice filled with emotion. “It’s good to be back.,,

As we pulled away, my mother's eyes scanned my face, taking in every detail. "You've grown into such a beautiful young girl," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and awe. I couldn't help but blush at her words, feeling a surge of warmth and love envelop me.

"Save some hugs for me," my ears reached the sound of my brother's voice, making me pull away from Mom to embrace him too. A wide grin spread across my face as I held him tightly. "I missed you, you asshole," I said playfully, and we both burst into laughter. ,, Your shoulders are finally bigger than mine” I teased him some more, it was a familiar banter that only siblings could understand.

"I missed you too, Lia," he said, using the childhood nickname he had given me years ago. It was a name that held a special place in my heart, reminding me of our shared adventures and mischievous moments growing up together. ,, And I always had wider shoulders than you” he scoffed. ,,Sure you did, brother, sure you did” my rolling eyes making him laugh, I wouldn’t be truly back if I hadn’t made fun of him, that’s for sure.

"Come on, honey, let's go home," Mom's comforting voice pulled me from the trance, already a few feet in front of me. I blinked, momentarily disoriented, before a smile spread across my face. "Coming!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with excitement as I hurried to catch up with her.

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,,You know the boys missed you right? They are sitting on the porch right now” the mention of my friends made me smile, excited for the reunion that awaited . The one summer never leaving my mind even in Switzerland. Sure, I kept contact with Luke, facetiming everyday, with Quinn, too. Then theres Jack, my crush, and if you’re wondering, it still hasn’t passed.

My mother seemed to have a sixth sense about my feelings. "Even Jack," she said, as if she could read my mind.

Pulling into the driveway, I saw the three boys really sitting there, making a smile appear on my face. As I stepped out of the car, I was met with bone crushing hug from Luke.

,,Luke!” I screamed through the laughs ,,I don’t feel my arms!” I wheezed, still laughing. ,,Oh shush” my bestfriend shushed me and hugged me even tighter. ,,Luke, you’re going to break her” said the bored voice of Quinn. ,,Quintin!!” I exclaimed running to him, ,, I told you to not call me that” even though wanting to appear annoyed by the name I gave him by rolling his eyes, he still had a warm smile on his face.

And then my eyes met with his. The same colour I liked when I was younger, staring at me. The beautiful ocean blue. I gave him a small smile, which he returned. He no longer looked like a kid I remembered him as, now looking like a young man, reaching the age of being adult. ,,Missed ya kid” said his voice, which was a few octaves deeper than then.

,,Missed you too” I said with a smile on my face, even though I felt a pang of dissappoitment of him still seeing me as a kid, despite being only 2 years older than me. Maybe the naive part thought that when I return, maybe there would be something, but as I was his retreating figure going back to their house, I knew better.

I felt a figure beside me ,,So, tell me everything” spoke the voice of my best friend that was much clearer than during the calls, making me smile. ,,Come on, help me unpack and I will repeat everything I said during the calls” I said making him smile.

Even through the disappointment from the awkward reunion with Jack, my heart was calmer because of the now short distance between me and the people I cared most about.

[amazingmsme]

Not sure if you’re open to the idea but since I ADORE the idea of tickle monsters and tickle magic just imagine what it’d be like if the Lords in Black would be lers in their own respective ways. 👀👀

I have some THOUGHTS about the lers in black, lemme tell you! Gonna go in order of the summoning

Putting this under the cut ‘cause it got LONG

Pokotho

He will dramatically laugh along with his victim lee

He’s such a verbal tease! Uses all the classics like kitchy kitchy coo & repeatedly saying The Word & uses a singsong voice to taunt you

LOVES the sound of laughter, literal music to his ears

Loves to build anticipation before actually striking

One of the “nicer” lords & has pity on you after the fact & will cuddle the lee once he’s done & shower them with compliments about how pretty their laugh is

Uses slow light tickles to drag things out even longer, slowly increasing the intensity the longer he tickles you & lowkey his attacks can be broken down into a “three act structure” (slow build up, REAL tickling, & the finale)

Usually teams up with Wiggly or Blinky to wreck his siblings if he’s in a particularly playful mood. If one of his usual partners in crime is his intended target, then Tinky is his next choice on account of his unhinged chaotic energy

Bliklotep

The Watcher with a Thousand Eyes… of course they can see your tickle spots! You’re fucking stupid if you think otherwise not really tho

Before tickling you, he hovers his hands over the lee, wiggling fingers just inches over their skin just to watch & gauge their reactions so he knows what gets the best reaction (entirely unnecessary since they can legit just see where you’re most ticklish, but they wanna see which spots make the lee the most nervous when almost tickled & strike based on that)

Watches & takes note of every single reaction the lee makes & comments on it

He will absolutely notice if the lee likes it & hasn’t really asked for it to stop or try to get away. He’s very observant so he can just pick up on that sort of thing

When a tickle fight happens to break out amongst the lords in black, Blinky prefers to watch from the sidelines, staying quiet & enjoying the show. Eventually one of the others will notice & target him

T’Noy Karaxis

He’s such a chaotic & fun ler y’all have no idea

He wastes NO time & cuts right to the chase, making his lee burst into laughter as soon as he gets his hands on you

Likes to jump around from spot to spot to keep the lee guessing & on their toes

While Pokey will laugh along with his lee, Tinky will full on cackle alongside his victim. His laugh is loud & unhinged & very infectious, so it makes the lee laugh even more

Has more fun than the lee even if they’re having a blast, I promise you, he’s having more fun

He uses his goat horns to tickle the lee & it’s a similar feeling to a pencil or pen scraping over your skin

He likes to tease the lee about all the cute sounds they’re making & threatens to keep them in his time box so he can “do this forever”

Nibblenephim

This dude is SOOO babygirl I freaked tf out when I saw his human in The Summoning & I WILL be cosplaying him at some point but that is besides the point I just had to gush for a second

Nibbly loves to make the lee nervous because he says their anticipation & fear is “tasty”

Has long sharp claws nails & knows how to use them😈

For the most part tho, he likes to use mouth tickles because they have a brand to uphold. So expect lots of tickly kisses, nibbles & raspberries. & if he’s feeling particularly playful or ruthless, he’ll start licking

His teases mainly consist of a lot of nomming & gnoshing sounds & telling you how sweet you taste. It’s surprisingly flustering & very effective

Wiggog Y’Wrath

Mr. Tickle Me Wiggly himself, you’d think he’d be mostly lee but noooo he’s a full on switch maybe lee leaning but idk it might be a trap to lure you in

Despite being the most ticklish of the lib, he’s also the most ruthless ler so his siblings are cautious if they plan on targeting him

He’s one of the meanest teases you’ll ever meet ok? His main goal is to humiliate you, he is in it for the embarrassment & helplessness of these pathetic mortals because he’s just got so much power over them & he’s making them crumble without even using a fraction of his power. Look how helpless you are & he doesn’t even have to hurt you

Sorry I have THOUGHTS about him can you tell?

He’s slenderman in the onceler’s clothing (please I swear I have a point) he’s got tentacles & his over the top evil persona just gives me slenderman vibes. I just know he’d use his eldritch powers to his advantage in a tickle fight

Uses his dumb fuckin’ uwu speech to tease his lee & it flusters them as much as it pisses them off he’s just an obnoxious mf

His favorite spot to tickle is of course the belly well! (it’s so squishy!)

Ok I gotta stop myself before I start foaming at the mouth, this ask made me very Not Normal about these rainbow abominations

[abbatoirablaze]

Mini Interviews, F1 Drivers

Word Count:  1.5k

Warnings:  None

*Just some of the most precious team interviews where I could see how it would be if the drivers had to take their child/children with them because why not. 

Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris, Ice Cream, Mclaren

Carlos chuckled as he watched his godchild propping himself up on his elbows and partially army crawling as much as he could across the small distance on the table where the cup of espresso and ice cream was waiting. 

Lando was smiling, trying to talk to the social media coordinator while keeping his hands firmly on his carbon copy’s waist to stop him from being entirely on the table. 

And little Landon Norris, briefly glimpsing back at his father, making sure that his full attention wasn’t on him, before dipping his finger into the cooled beverage and popping it into his mouth.

“EWW DADDY!” the three-year-old squealed, wriggling around until he was far away from the caffeinated cup as possible and back into his father’s lap, “that’s icky.”

“What’s wrong bud?” he asked, his full attention now on his son, knowing that if Landon had any issues at all he’d have no problem telling his mummy when he got home that ‘daddy wasn’t keeping an eye on him,’ like he’d promised, “what happened?”

“That goes on the ice cream!” Carlos said with a smile as his godchild looked between the coffee and treat, silently questioning it, “it makes it taste better, Landon.”

The man assisting with the video walked beside Lando’s table and lifted the cup, pouring the beverage over the sweet treat while the small child’s face scrunched up, then switched to a look of horror.  He was quick to turn in his father’s arms, clinging to them, “daddy make him stop.  He’s ruining the ice cream!”

This time the elder Norris frowned, “no, no no, no no!  Oh, you ruined my ice cream!”

Carlos was chuckling beside him, while the child’s eyes went wide once more, “UNCLE CARLOS HE’S GONNA RUIN YOUR ICE CREAM TOO!”

“No thank you sir, I’ll do it!” Carlos said simply, stopping the man from pouring the espresso over his gelato, “thank you sir!”

Landon leaned over his father’s arm and towards his godfather, “Uncle Carlos…I try?”

Carlos softened, instantly reaching out for the child, and Lando frowned, “it’s not fair that you get to try it without the coffee!”

“Come, Landon!” Carlos smiled as the little boy giggled and went into his arms.  He settled down in his lap, and Carlos sipped on the coffee before readying the spoon so that Landon could have some of the ice cream, “keep clean, yes?  Your mother would not be happy if your father brought you back covered in food.”

“Thank you Uncle Carlos!” Landon smiled as he looked up at his godfather. 

“Good boy!” he praised, before readying the second spoonful for himself, all the while Lando was pouting at the coffee drenched ice cream in his bowl.

Danny Ric and Max Verstappen, Holiday Message, Redbull

“Let’s start by cheersing to 2017!” Danny Ric grinned, holding up his glass of sparkling lemonade.

Max giggled, correcting his best friend, “18!”

“I don’t know,” he laughed, “I’ve got two kids that are two years old.  I don’t sleep let alone remember what year it is!”

Max burst out laughing as he went to take a sip from the drink, the fizzy beverage spilling over the top of the table.  Daniel laughed as well and the people behind the camera had to look away to stop their own laughter so that they could get through the video.

“DADDY YOUR GIFT FOR MAXIE!” the elder of the twins yelled, running up with a box that was nearly as big as she was.

“MAXIES GIFT!” her twin echoed, pulling her sister towards their favorite ‘uncle’ so that they could give him the gift Daniel picked out.

“To max,” Max read, as he took the gift wrapped in pink paper from the twins, “you are my rock.  Love.  Much love.  Daniel!”

Daniel nodded as he tried to stifle his laughter.  He looked behind the camera to see his wife giggling as well and he picked up one of the twins who came to sit with him, so that he could hide his own growing smirk. 

“You’re my rock!” he repeated between giggles, “Keep reading.  The next part is from the twins!”

“WE DID!” his other daughter grinned, pulling on the hem of Max’s shirt, “just for you MAXIE!”

“XO XO.  Heart heart heart.  There’s a lot of hearts here!”

“Because we love you!” she giggled, smiling the trademark Ric family smile at him. 

Daniel smiled back, picking her up so that she could sit on his lap, “aww, I love you too.  Are you guys going to help me and your dad unwrap our gifts?”

Both girls smiled even more, nodding along. 

“So, you got me a gift too?” Daniel asked. 

Max rolled his eyes at his best friend, and while one arm was looped around Daniel’s daughter, the other reached down to grab the gift that he’d stashed by his chair for his teammate.  Daniel smiled as he read off the little note, and both drivers went to town unwrapping the boxes, with the help of the twins.

“Good job Emma!” Max praised the twin in his lap.

“Thank you for helping us, Lynn!” Daniel told the twin on his lap as he kissed her temple, “you girls are a big help for me and your uncle Maxie!”

“Alright girls, come over here so daddy and Maxie can try on their gifts!”

“Go see your mum!” Daniel agreed as he and Max stood, and they showed the girls back to Daniel’s wife. 

The drivers disappeared momentarily to put on the Christmas themed suits, before coming back and restarting the cameras.  The twins watched eagerly as their father and his teammate did a small interview, asking one another about their favorite memories as children during the holidays, and telling the jokes that were inside little presents, until they started to break down into another fit of giggles; Daniel waving his girls back into the frame, and giving them the fake food to throw at Max.

“Hey that’s not fair!” Max giggled as he threw some of the fake food at Daniel, “three on one.  Disqualifications.  Penalties.  The ankle biters can’t both gang up on me with you!”

“Get him girls!” the honey badger smiled. 

The twins squealed, both attacking Max with hugs and praise.  Max leaned forward and dabbed, “dab with me, Emma…Lynn…dab with me!”

The girls giggled and wriggled around, not quite getting how to do it. 

Daniel cupped his hands around his mouth, “Ki Ki Ki-“

“AY AY-“

It quickly devolved into a mass of giggles and the boys yelling.  The girls started picking up more of the fake food from the floor so they could throw it at Max and Daniel. 

Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda, Language Exchange, Alpha Tauri

Both men giggled as they looked at the paper, Pierre more so.  His head cocked to the side, “merde…”

“Mama, papa said a bad word!” three-year-old Jaques cooed, looking off screen to his mother from his father’s lap. 

“How do dogs bark in French?  What?” Yuki asked, looking to the cameras, where a few people were giggling.  He looked down to his one-year-old, who was half asleep in his arms.

“How is it in Japanese?”

“I don’t know,” Yuki laughed, “regular noises.”

“What noise do they make?”

“Wang wa wa!”

“Good job, Hiro!” Yuki praised the sleepy baby.

Pierre and his son couldn’t stop laughing, “wang wa wa?  What noise is that?”

“What, is normal!” Yuki said quickly, adding his own little bit of laughter in as he cradled his son against himself, “wang, wa wa.  Why.  How do they do it in French?”

Pierre burst out laughing, slapping his leg. 

Jaques’ eyes went wide, and he slipped off his father’s lap, running to his mother.

“Oh, Jaques…I didn’t mean to scare you buddy,” he apologized as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.  He turned his attention back to Yuki, “where-did you ever hear a dog do this noise?”

“Yeah?” Yuki said quickly “Why so c-what does a dog make?  What noise with you?”

“Woof!” Jaques answered as his father calmed down.

“Yes! He said quickly, pointing to his son, “Woof woof woof!”

“Oof?” Yuki asked, confusion crossing his features.  He shook his head, “that oof oof is someone punching an old man in the stomach.  He goes oof!”

“How you say in Japanese, I want to know!” Pierre giggled, encouraging the noise from Yuki once more.

“Wang wa, wa.” He repeated.  Pierre continued to laugh, “What?”

“What dog is that?”

“A normal one!”

“Doggy wang wa, wa!” Hiro repeated, snuggling into his father’s chest. Yuki smiled down proudly at his son while Pierre continued to giggle.

“No, doggy go woof woof!” Jaques said, coming to the rescue once more as he rejoined his father’s side.

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 13 - Part Three

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 5,128

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

October 30th, 2021

“Nat! Are you almost ready? We’re going to be late!” Chris yelled down the hall as he glanced at his phone, seeing the time passing with not much left before Tara’s party started. 

“Yeah, be ready in a second!” Her voice echoed. 

Satisfied with her answer, Chris plunked down at a kitchen chair and put his hand out for Dodger, letting the pooch sniff him before his tail began to wag when Chris scratched him. As Chris sat there at the kitchen table, he couldn’t help but feel excited at the night ahead. When he was back home in Boston, he loved being able to spend time with his lifelong friends, surrounded by the people who had known him since he was that dorky teenage theater kid. Some of these people had become like his family and it felt so good to be able to introduce Nat into this group, knowing that they’d all fall in love with her just as easily as he had. 

Tara’s Halloween party had felt like the perfect place to bring her too, it being a more low pressure and fun environment but even now, only a half hour before the party began, Nat still wouldn’t tell him what her costume was. He had decided on Crocodile Dundee, one of his favorite movies from the 80’s and had even completed the look with a blow up alligator that Nat had gotten him. Although he’d been bugging her for over a week to try to find out what plans she had for her costume, she wouldn’t say a word. 

Being the wildly creative artist that she was, he knew it’d probably be something a little more out of the box but when she finally rounded the corner into the kitchen, Chris couldn’t stop himself from flopping backward in his chair, a hand flying to smack his chest and a loud hysterical laugh pouring out of him as he pushed out through his rapid fire laugh, “What is that?” 

“Hello, I am Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die,” Nat told him with an accent so bad that even a children’s theater production would have criticized it. 

“I can’t believe that’s your costume,” his laughter was still bubbling out while he took in her entire look, asking, “What is that mustache put on with?” 

“I drew it on with my eyebrow pencil,” Nat told him before a smirk appeared on her lips, noting that, “It looks better than the one you had earlier this year.” 

At the comment, he rolled his eyes even though he was full of amusement and asked her, “Still never going to let me live that down?” 

“Nope.”

Chris finally stood up, ready to get going but when he took another look at Nat in that costume, he burst into laughter yet again. She was about to be meeting almost all of his lifelong friends for the first time and yet she’d chosen to dress in a costume complete with a mustache. But that was just the epitome of Nat, completely unafraid to be herself, and that was one of the things he loved the most about her. 

“I have to say,” Nat began, pulling his attention to her and letting him see the way her eyes were raking him up and down before her hands came out to rub his bare chest that was showing underneath the small vest he had on. “I really like this choice of costume for you.” 

“You’ve got a thing for Croc Dundee, don’t you?” He smirked, arms coming to wrap around her waist. 

“When he looks like you, yeah,” was her easy response. 

Chris smiled as he leaned down to press their lips together, his eyes closing as he focused just on the feeling of her lips on his while her hands rubbed around his sides before he felt them rubbing along his back. He always loved feeling her touch, loving her hands on his skin and he shivered slightly from the way her fingers trailed down his back before coming down to squeeze at his firm ass, making him feel warm from the inside out. He started to not care about the fact they might be late to the party and instead began to wish they would be late, but when he pulled back momentarily to catch his breath and his blue eyes fluttered halfway open, his hands dropped from her as he burst into his loud laughter yet again. 

“I’m sorry, I just cannot take you seriously with that mustache!” 

“You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago,” Nat smiled as her arms wrapped around him again but even with that beautiful smile, he couldn’t help but keep snickering when he saw that fake mustache above her lip. 

“Well I mind when I have to look at it!” he said through his loud laughter as he turned to grab his phone off of the counter and look over to check that Dodger had plenty of water. 

They headed out of the front door once Nat got a notification that their Uber was there, discreetly booked under her name. As they headed towards the driveway, they slipped face masks on, quiet once they got into the car. She made small talk with the driver for a few minutes as Chris stayed quiet, letting Tara know they were on their way and would be there soon. 

The party was in full swing once they got there, with much of Chris’ longtime friend group in the open living space, laughing with drinks in hand while dressed in various full costumes. Once they stuck their masks in Nat’s bag, he started introducing Nat to everybody as Nick, one of his high school buddies, brought him a beer and offered Nat one as well. But it wasn’t long before Tara, the hostess and his longtime best friend, found them near the kitchen. 

Nat was whispering something to Chris with a chuckle as Tara walked up to them, a large smile on her face as she said, “I finally get to meet the famous Nat.” 

Nat glanced at Chris oddly, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. “I’m not sure that I want to know what I’m famous for,” she laughed as she shook her head. 

Tara didn’t hesitate to reassure Nat, “Mostly for Chris never shutting up about you.” 

“I left out the fact she has that mustache though,” he smirked, looking down at Nat with a chuckle as she rolled her eyes. “She’s a little self conscious about it.” 

“He’s just jealous that mine is better than his ever was.” 

Tara’s eyes widened as she took a sip of her drink, smirking as she agreed, “That last one he had was hideous.” 

“And Nattie started dating me with that mustache so the joke’s on her,” Chris chuckled, smirking once Nat rolled her eyes.

“Yeah and I told you it had to be shaved before you came back into the country,” she muttered, but a faint smile appeared on her lips as his arm wound around her waist. He remembered the threat well, one that he’d made sure to follow before he even began packing up for his flight back to Massachusetts in July to get Dodger. 

“I’m just glad I never had to see it in person,” Tara laughed as Chris rolled his eyes. After pausing to sip her drink again, she gestured to Chris and told him, “I like the Croc Dundee costume though, that’s so good!” 

But at Nat’s huff of laughter, he knew she couldn’t help but interject her usual sarcasm, not one to skip out on the chance to embarrass him a little. “He just is using Halloween as a chance to be half-naked,” she informed Tara, squirming with a laugh as Chris’ hand squeezed her rear. “He wants to remind everyone he’s still ripped even though he’s old.” 

He took a long sip from the bottle in his hand, shaking his head as he murmured, “Careful there Nattie, I seem to recall someone has a birthday soon.” 

“Yeah to turn thirty-four,” she laughed just before she indulged in some of her drink, then reached to tuck a strand of curls behind her ear. Her eyes were moving over the party throughout the home before they returned to Chris and Tara. She met Chris’ eyes with a genuinely happy smile and he returned it, knowing how happy he was that she was here with his friends. 

He shook his head as the women laughed, telling them, “You know, I’m really regretting bringing you to this party already.” 

“What because then you can’t have all the spotlight and show off your muscles?” Nat asked as she bumped his hip with hers playfully. 

He ignored Nat, but tightened his arm and brought her closer to him as he turned his attention to Tara, informing her, “Tara, I think we need to change this party and only allow people over forty in.” 

But Tara’s brows furrowed and she frowned almost instantaneously, protesting, “No way, I like her!” 

“See? You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Nat smirked, looking up at Chris with a mischievous expression. He rolled his eyes before he pressed a kiss to her forehead as she said, “Tara, can I ask where your bathroom is?” 

Tara nodded, pointing to the hall near the back door, instructing Nat, “Yeah it’s right down the back hallway on the left.” 

Nat leaned up to peck Chris’ lips and handed him her beer before she slipped out of his embrace and headed towards the bathroom. He watched her until she disappeared from sight, unaware of his grin until Tara laughed, shaking her head at the dopey look on his face. 

“Okay I like her already,” Tara decided, taking a fresh drink from her husband, Will, as he passed by on his way to the living room. 

The grin remained on Chris’ face as he nodded, telling her knowingly, “That’s pretty much a theme with Nat. Nobody can usually go more than five minutes without liking her.” 

“I think she’s going to fit in with everyone really well. She certainly can hold her own and bust your chops,” Tara smiled, her voice dropping before she asked, “How did it go the other day with her meeting your family?” 

“It went great, they all love her already,” Chris supplied. It truly had gone better than he’d imagined, with Nat fitting right into their chaos without missing a beat. He knew they’d grown up in both wildly similar and wildly different ways, with circumstances, locations, and styles, but it’d felt as if Nat had grown up alongside the family with how well she’d adjusted, in a matter of minutes, to their craziness. “Ma is crazy about her. I’ve never seen her like a girlfriend of mine this much before.” 

“I think I can see why,” Tara assured him. She paused for a moment, her eyes studying Chris, before asking,  “...You’re really happy, aren’t you?” 

“God, I am Tara,” he confessed. He’d never gone much longer than a day without being so insanely happy it’d scared him since he and Nat had gotten together, minus the chaos of needing to clue Meghan into the PR storm. Nat made him happy. She made him feel safe, loved, and wanted, in a way he never had before. He missed her so much while he had been alone in Boston the last month that he’d come close to going back to Los Angeles several times. He never had that feeling before, the feeling that made him want to be somewhere he actively dreaded in any other circumstance. But Nat was there. Los Angeles was her base, and as long as she was anywhere, he’d follow her there. 

“Nat seems like a special girl,” Tara mused, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“She’s more than that,” he admitted, shrugging as he pursed his lips. “She’s… my best friend.” 

And those words that so easily came spilling out of his mouth almost surprised him. It was the first thing that had popped into his brain even though he’d never cognizantly thought about it, but hearing himself say it made him realize just how true it was. Nat had so effortlessly become his best friend in every sense of the word. Whether he was happy, tired, stressed out, or unsure about something, Nat was always the first one he turned to. She was his source of comfort, understanding, laughter, and wisdom and he knew that she was the only one he wanted to fill that spot in his life. 

Those feelings were only solidified as the party was in full swing and Chris watched Nat easily fall in with his friends, most of whom he’d known almost his entire life. It wasn’t surprising to him to be able to see her so easily charm everyone, laughing and joking around with everyone as if they had known her just as long as him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already known just how hopelessly in love with Nat that he was, that was a fact that was painfully obvious to him almost constantly, but having her here with him in Boston was that last missing piece that sealed the deal for him. Seeing Nat finally meeting his family and friends and fitting in so easily only reminded him that she truly was the one for him. She was the girl he was starting to believe would only be true in his dreams, but here she was, and she was his. 

October 31st, 2021

Chris glanced down at the display of the car as Nat changed the radio station, smiling faintly to himself at the happy look on her face. Getting to spend time with Nat in Boston had felt like heaven to him, but as her return flight to Los Angeles lingered over their heads, he knew their time together was coming to a close. 

So far, her last full day with him in Massachusetts had been spent exploring his old stomping grounds, driving by the youth theater he so fondly remembered, his schools, and a few houses he grew up in before his mother moved into her current home. He showed her all over with a smile on his face as he recalled story after story full of laughter, Nat’s hand squeezing his thigh softly each time she fell into laughter as she got to hear each and every memory. 

Once they’d returned to the house in the early afternoon, they had enjoyed the slow afternoon just eating lunch, walking Dodger and spent the rest of the time fully connected as they tangled in the sheets in his comfortable bed. It was growing darker as they laid together, Chris just loving the feeling of having Nat laying on top of him, his hands running up and down her bare back after they’d worn each other out for the second time, but their quiet moment was interrupted when he felt a rumble in her stomach. 

Although they couldn’t seem to rouse themselves to life right away, eventually they made it into the shower so they could get ready for one meal together. Once they were both ready and Dodger was set to be alone for a few hours, they headed to the car and towards town, where Chris had booked a table at one of his favorite restaurants. They figured that given the discretion his hometown commonly gave him, along with the holiday tonight, they’d be able to fly relatively under the radar, and that was a risk he was willing to take at this point. He’d only been able to take Nattie out a couple times before, with them having spent most of their time in California in their own homes, and he wanted to go all out for her tonight. 

He was navigating the car through the back roads as Nat’s phone buzzed in the cupholder. She hummed along to the song playing softly over the speakers, but soon she laughed loudly as she read the message. 

“Alex just sent a text in the family group text announcing that she is still pregnant and not very happy about it,” she told Chris, unlocking her phone with a swipe of her thumb with a smirk on her face. 

“I’m sure not,” Chris chuckled with a shake of his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he wondered, “Isn’t she a week overdue?” 

“A week and a half,” Nat corrected as she finished typing on her phone and slid it into her bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her rest her head back against the headrest and look over at him as she said, “She’s so ready for that baby to come out.” 

“Did they finally decide on a name?” 

“They’re still deciding but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be Jack. That seems to be the one they keep coming back to,” she informed just as Chris pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. Their conversation halted for a long moment while they climbed out of the car, Chris locking it and sliding the key in his pocket before he tossed an arm around Nat’s shoulders as they walked toward the doors of the restaurant. 

He couldn’t help but feel so happy as he felt Nat lean in against his frame while they walked, making him feel the need to press a soft kiss to the top of her head, just so content that he has his Nattie here with him. It felt so good to not be looking over his shoulder here, being able to just walk into one of his frequented restaurants with his arm around the girl that he loved and be tucked into a back corner table across from her. Chris knew he had an ear to ear smile on his face as he looked across the table at her, seeing those cute curls and sparkling eyes shining as she finished out her thought from the car and wistfully mused, “I can’t wait to get to hold that baby.” 

“Do you think you’re going to fly up there once he’s born?” He asked as he took a sip from the water glass in front of her, eyes locked on Nat’s instead of the menu in front of him.

She frowned, glancing down at the menu resting in front of her before admitting, “I don’t think so. I really want to but with taking time off to come here and how much work we have, I just don’t think I can.” 

“And you’re going to be back there in just a couple weeks for Thanksgiving,” Chris added with a nod. He felt bad that he indirectly made Nat unable to visit home, but he quickly pushed that guilt aside, knowing Nat would’ve spoken up – like she had in the beginning of the month – if she didn’t want to come in favor of seeing – what she had theorized – baby Jack in the next week. 

“Exactly so it just makes sense to wait,” she agreed with a shrug, smiling as the waiter dropped off her glass of wine and his beer at the table. She took a sip of the glass of red before adding, “Besides, with Heather, my dad, and Alex’s in-law’s, there will be enough help the first few weeks without me.”

He smirked as he drank some of the beer, leaning back in his seat and telling her, “I have a feeling my phone is going to be blowing up that whole week you’re home with thousands of pictures of that baby.” 

“Oh you know it will,” she assured him before she paused, shifting a bit in her seat. “But there was something I wanted to ask you about Thanksgiving…” 

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, his brows raising as his eyes locked onto hers curiously. 

“Well, I wanted to see if you might like to come home with me for Thanksgiving,” she offered, a hopeful look on her face. She looked more tentative than she had in a long time, almost nervous. But he was able to quell those fears with his answer. 

“Nattie, I’d love to,” he immediately said, knowing that it was true. He had already tossed around the idea of inviting her to come back here and spend Thanksgiving with his own family but had decided on forgoing that with Alex having her baby. Chris knew that there would be no way Nat would want to miss out on being around her brand new nephew and he certainly didn’t blame her. As much as he was bubbling with excitement over being invited to a holiday with her, he wanted to ask, “Is your family alright with that?” 

“They’re actually the ones who brought it up,” Nat laughed softly while leaning back in the booth, her hands motioning back and forth as she explained, “I had wanted to invite you and was going to ask them, but Heather is the one who asked if I’d bring you.” 

A hand came to rest on his chest as he honestly told her, “I’d be honored to come.” Chris felt his brain churning as he thought through his schedule for the next month, knowing he really only had a few ASP things to do before some reshoots in December and thought out loud, “I was planning on coming back to California for your birthday so maybe I’ll just stay and then we could go to Seattle the week after.” 

“You won’t find me complaining about getting to have you longer,” Nat’s smile was shining as she gazed across the table at him, but their moment was briefly interrupted when a waiter came over. Both of them shared a soft laugh, realizing they had barely looked at the menu but each made a quick decision and put their order in, soon being alone once again. 

Chris’ eyes flickered down when he saw Nat’s hand reaching across the table, opening up her palm and silently asking for his touch which he gladly gave as he put his hand in hers and held it gently as she looked at him with nothing but happiness on her face as she told him, “I’m so excited that you’re going to come.” 

“I am too,” he honestly spoke before his mind started to drift at the one plan coming up that he hated she wasn’t part of, muttering, “I still wish you could come with me and my family to Disney World after Thanksgiving.” 

He still hated looking at his calendar and seeing the trip that he looked forward to every single year with the people he loved most and knowing that she wasn’t going to be there. Chris wanted to have her there with him, sharing in that special memory but when they had talked it through a few weeks ago, both of them had admitted what they didn’t want to and that was the fact that it would be better if she didn’t go. Between having not met his entire family at that point, and knowing they’d have at least one person taking photos of them, it seemed like an illogical choice to have her come, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t still disappointed. 

“I do too, but I think we made the right choice,” Nat nodded while tucking some of her curls behind her ear with her free hand as she went on, “Having that picture leak this past summer was stressful enough but at Disney World, we’re assured of having someone take our picture.” 

“Yeah…” he trailed off with a sigh, just staring down at their intertwined hands as he shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Nat. I’m sorry that it is this way.” 

Chris couldn’t help but feel guilty about it all. He loved being able to act, having a creative profession be his life, but sometimes he hated what came along with it and that it affected the people that he loved most. Sometimes he still found himself wishing that he could go on vacation, head to a baseball game, or out to a movie and have his arms around Nat without having to worry about someone sneaking a picture of them and the inevitable storm that would follow on the internet. 

“It’s okay, Chris. It’s not your fault,” Nat’s hand squeezed his as she looked at him with resolve in her eyes, going on to reassure him, “And I want you to know that when it comes time that we need to be public, I’ll be okay.” 

He knew it was true. He knew that Nat would be alright and that she could handle it, but he hated that she had to. Chris hated so much of what came with fame for himself, let alone what it brought to the people that he loved. Normally nearly six months into a relationship he wasn’t that worried about it yet, but with Nat it was different. He knew that this was going somewhere. This wasn’t some fling or passionate romance that would burn out. This was something special, but with that came the knowledge that this was going to affect her even more than it already had and he hung his head while acknowledging, “I just know that this isn’t what you want and I’m just sorry you have to deal with all of it just because you’re with me.” 

“I guess you’re worth it,” Nat playfully joked with a soft squeeze to his hand, getting his attention and waiting for his eyes to meet hers before she continued, “But I mean it Chris, I will be okay when the time comes.” 

“I promise I’ll handle it better than I did before.” 

“We’ll handle it together,” she stated firmly before her tone softened, “For now I’m pretty content having it be just us, though.” 

“Me too, Nattie,” his low voice rumbled before he gently lifted her hand to place a sweet kiss in the palm of her hand. 

“I’m really going to miss you when I go back tonight,” she whispered, a sad smile on her face as she looked across the table at him. “This weekend has been so perfect.” 

His shoulders slouched a bit in relief as he laughed to himself, shaking his head as he confessed, “I was really hoping that you’d like it here in Massachusetts.” 

“I do like it here,” she assured him, then paused and surprised him as she admitted, “But I mostly like it because I love seeing you here.” 

Chris’ brows furrowed in confusion, unsure what she was saying. He knew he lived almost two separate lives for the last two decades of his life – there was the Chris who spent most of the years working on sets and walking red carpets, then there was the Chris who grew up in Sudbury and loved being back home with his family, childhood friends, and his dog…. And now Nat. But still, he felt as though the lines had become blurred in the last few years, with work dropping steadily post-Marvel when he intended to take some time to relax after a busy few years, but then with the pandemic he spent more time back home in 2020 than ever intended. And he was happy then, don’t get him wrong, getting to be with his family nearly daily and no work upcoming, but he craved getting to spend his life with someone. He never anticipated that going to that morning meeting in February would set them on this path together, coincidentally during one of his busiest seasons in a long time, but 2021 had become the happiest year yet… and it was all because of spending so much time getting to know Nattie in Los Angeles. “What do you mean?” He asked her. 

“I just love getting to see you be able to relax,” she murmured with a shrug, her eyes looking around for a moment before landing on him, a soft easy grin on her lips as Nat explained, “You’re just so… happy here.” 

“I am happy here,” he easily agreed. He knew so much of being here and choosing to live in the area was because of the fond memories from his childhood and youth, but also because this is where his entire family was still based. They still came home for every holiday, every birthday, and event, and getting to have a close-knit circle still felt essential to Chris with all the chaos that came along with his career. But so much of those thoughts now centered on what it meant for him and Nat, what luxuries it provided him given the unspoken discretion and privacy the town provided him with. They wouldn’t have to worry about paparazzi lingering on every busy street corner, impeding on their privacy. “I love being able to run errands with my Ma and take Dodger out for walks and have my own home that actually feels like a home. But having you here made it even better because we finally were able to go to the grocery store, and out to breakfast or for drives without having to look over our shoulders. I love being able to just live my life with the people that I love here.” 

Her smile grew into a pleased one, one that told him she understood every word. “I’m really happy that I get to be one of those people,” she whispered, squeezing his hand before she straightened up, the slightly-giddy expression remaining. 

“I am too, Nattie. I love you so fucking much and seeing you here with my friends and my family only reminds me just how thankful I am to have you in my life,” he whispered, watching as her eyes grew damp at those words just as the waiter came by with their food.

They enjoyed their last few hours together, talking about Nat's recent invitation to be featured at an upcoming art show, and before Chris knew it, he was sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, watching Nat’s retreating figure as she headed into the departures terminal at Logan International alone, her suitcase rolling next to her. The entire drive home was spent in thought, even as Nat sent him texts and let him know when she got through security and made it to the gate. He missed her so much already, and as if it was possible, his home and town felt emptier without her presence. He knew she was it for him, and while that thought would have scared him this early on in any other relationship, it only made him more excited to get to see her in just nine short days. 

A/N: We hope you enjoyed Boston just as much as they did! We can't wait to hear your thoughts ❤️

[issybettyx]

TECHNOBLADE MAFIA BOSS AU

Did i say this was coming yesterday? Yes. Do i care? Not really, deal with it >:)

Tldr; Techno’s a feared mafia boss that even the government and police actively decide not to try intervene with, associates of his group (The Syndicate) being The Antarctic Empire (led by Philza), and L’Manberg (led by Wilbur Soot). No one interferes with any of them because of their relations to The Syndicate.

Everyone except a powered vigilante dubbed ‘Theseus’, better known as Tommy Innit, who people decide is either stupid or stronger than he looks. Little do they know, it’s a little bit of both.

Family ensues

Tw: cult (they call it a gang because they don’t know any better), mafia, weapons, manipulation, murder mention

Long one today boys, enjoy :D (i spent like three hours writing this it was so fun)

——

The first time Techno had heard the name ‘The Blood God’, he’d laughed so hard it was heard three levels below. It was spoken in such a shaky voice, sobs overtaking their body as they begged for forgiveness.

“Please, I have family, I never wanted to hurt any of your people, I promise.” They plead, and something about the way their hands shook and their head stayed bowed down told him they were scared. But he stayed deadly silent, keeping his eyes trained on them as they shook even more. “I’m sorry Blood God, I beg, I just-“

“What did you just call me?” He asked quickly, voice a little too quiet with shock, and they finally looked up, meeting his red eyes gaze for less than a second before looking away, taking a few steadying breaths.

“The Blood God, sir, that’s what they call you.”

Techno showed no emotion on his face for a solid five seconds, before he burst into laughter, wiping away the tears in his eyes as the victim stared up with wide eyes, not entirely sure what to do with themselves.

After a good two minutes of laughing, Techno managed out an order to kill them, and sent them off as he snickered.

Wilbur had understood him, sitting at their next meeting as he howled beside him. Phil didn’t quite understand the sentiment, finding it a little horrifying that the man had earned such a title, but laughed quietly along anyways. It’s not like he could say much, knowing he was nicknamed the ‘Angel of Death’, not that the other two would ever find out anyways.

The next time he’d heard the nickname, it was with more bitter context. He was on his way to do his shopping for the week, humming a tune as he flicked a penny in between his fingers. It so happened that when he walked past two teenagers on the side of the road, they were talking about him, not even noticing his presence as they snickered to themselves.

“I could take The Blood God, the police are such pussies, he’d be so easy.” The other nodded in agreement.

And maybe the first kid had collapsed as he rounded the corner, pretending not to hear pained screams from his friends as they called for help, humming a tune with a smile.

And from then on, most people didn’t know him as ‘Technoblade’, but rather ‘The Blood God’, and he found he wasn’t completely against it.

The Syndicate operated as always, but simply addressed him differently.

“Blood God, would you like us to add a Starbucks to floor 3?” He’d thought the idea was fantastic, coffee was extremely important for a working man.

“Blood God, what are your thoughts on hiring younger recruits?” No younger than 16, kids deserved to live happy lives before going into the world of crime.

“Blood God, why does Wilbur’s face look so funny?” It always had, most people were simply too afraid to admit it.

“Blood God, there’s this vigilante in the city, should we add him to the radar?” No it’s probably fine, vigilantes were as much as a threat to him as ants.

“Blood God, the same vigilante from a few weeks ago just took down Las Nevadas by himself, are you sure he’s not a threat?” Las Nevadas wasn’t built to survive, but to look pretty, anyone could take them down if they had the willpower to.

“Blood God, Philza’s defences were taken down last night by that vigilante.” Techno paused, staring at his employee - and maybe, possibly friend - Ranboo with his eyebrow raised.

“That same one you first told me about two months ago?” He asked cautiously, watching for any sign of amusement in the person’s heterochromatic eyes, but there was none.

“Yes Blood God.”

“Just call me Techno, that name is getting old.” Techno sighed out, pinching the bridge of his nose as Ranboo sighed. “What’s his name?”

“Theseus.”

He paused again, thinking it over.

Theseus was a Greek Legend. The story of Theseus was mainly about how he’d defeated the Minotaur. For years, the Minotaur had demanded seven kids and seven women every year, and no one was able to get through the maze and slay this beast.

That was until Theseus came along, and with the help of Ariadne (who gave him a ball of thread so he could find his way back out of the maze) was able to slay the Minotaur, and he became an Athenian hero.

However, Theseus was exiled, and found himself at an island named ‘Skyros’, where a man named Lycomedes threw him off the cliff, and he fell to his death.

The story of Theseus is tragic, and yet he showed strength when no one else could, he defeated the un-defeatable and saved Athens.

Everything about this vigilante, how he took down Las Nevadas single handedly, how he destroyed Philza’s defences (of which are some of the best in the country, despite his own), how his name perfectly correlated with the story of taking down something so massively feared by many.

Maybe it scared Techno a little.

And Techno was never scared.

“What’s his ability?” He asked, spinning in his chair as he chewed his nails, Ranboo looking unsure as they looked at the tablet in his hands.

“No one really knows, people only have theories.” Ranboo tried, but Techno’s silence was enough for him to continue. “Some people believe he can manipulate opinions, they say he can make them think he’s trust worthy and lure them into his trap.” Techno had never heard of anything like that before, but only furrowed his brows. “Some people think he can speak to people in their heads, convince them to turn themselves into the police.”

“So it’s some kind of controlling ability?” Techno asked cautiously, and Ranboo nodded, because what else could it possibly be? “Do we know why he broke down Philza’s defences?”

At this, Ranboo smiled, typing into their tablet before hopping to stand next to the boss, pressing play on the video and turning it to him.

There stood a kid, his face covered by a red mask shaped to cover his mouth, his hair covering the upper half of his face; blue eyes could be seen through the golden blonde, shimmering with a horrible amount of determination. His suit was red, that much was clear by the pant legs and red boots, but he wore a red hoodie over the top of the suit.

To the outside eye, he seemed harmless, almost as if he was asking someone to shoot him in the chest. However, the kid having been powerful to destroy a nation, Technoblade knew better.

He’d been underestimated once, and he wasn’t keen on following in the footsteps of those who doubted him in the first place.

“Why are you doing all of this, Theseus?” A reporter asked, holding out the mic to the vigilante who coughed almost as if to catch everyone’s attention.

“This country has been under The Syndicate’s control for too long, the FBI have given up taken them down, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” He explained, a grin clearly planted on his face despite the mask covering his mouth.

“What makes you think you can take them down when others couldn’t?” She asked, and Theseus scoffed, rolling his eyes under his mess of hair.

“Because, Linda-“

“My name isn’t-“

“I have something they don’t.” The vigilante stared directly into the camera, making eye contact with Techno. A part of him knew it was directed at him, another part wished it wasn’t. “I have something to prove.”

Techno held down his grimace.

It was all too familiar.

The video ended, and Ranboo pulled his tablet to his chest, a steady smile on their face as they studied Techno’s expression, of which the latter kept perfectly apathetic.

“Wishing he was on your radar when I first suggested it?” Ranboo teased, Techno finally groaning as he rolled his eyes, turning in his chair to look at the picture frame behind him. Some said it was stupid to find comfort in something so insignificant, some being his parents and the people from his gang when he was only eleven.

The picture was of him, Phil and Wilbur. Techno was hunched over, a controller in hand with his tongue stuck out. Wilbur’s face looked a lot more upset, brows furrowed as he glared at the screen Techno knew was there despite it not being in frame. Phil’s face was closest to the camera, a wide grin on his face as he took a selfie of them all.

So yeah, maybe he did keep a picture of his family in his office as a constant reminder to do what was best, who was anyone to judge?

“If Theseus has gone after Philza, he’s bound to go for L’Manberg next, correct?”

“Unless he’s stupid enough to approach The Syndicate, yes, however we aren’t sure when he’s planning to do so.” Ranboo returned, moving his tablet into only their right hand and holding it beside his leg. “The dude has no documents of anything, it’s almost as if he’s acting impulsively.” Techno frowned, mainly from the unsureness that came with impulsivity. Either it was someone’s downfall, or their greatest strength. For Techno, it had been both.

“Is he working alone?” Techno asked, leaning back and looking at the roof, hoping it would hold the answer to all his problems.

“Most people believe so, but we’ve got camera footage of some kind of earpiece being attached to his right ear.” He’s right-handed, he’s not working alone, he’s impulsive, no one knows his ability, he’s powerful. Yeah this wasn’t sounding great. “Would you like me to schedule a meeting with Philza and Wilbur?”

Techno could only manage a nod, pressing two fingers to his temples in an attempt to loosen in the incoming headache. Work wasn’t meant to be this difficult.

“Meeting is at 11pm tonight at The Syndicate’s main meeting room, they’ve both been notified.” Ranboo informed, and Techno managed a smile.

“Thanks Ran, can you send in the next deviant?” He asked, receiving a hum in return. But when Techno eventually opened his eyes, the other was still stood there, an unsure look on their face.

“Don’t stress too much over this, if worse comes to worse you need to be calm to do your best, alright?” Ranboo said eventually, and Techno couldn’t help the warm smile on his face, eyes softening at the person in front of him.

“I’ll try my best.” And with a nod and a reassuring smile, Ranboo left the room.

—

“So, let me get this straight.” Wilbur started, hands clasped in front of him. “A vigilante who first appeared three months ago, who took down Las Nevadas a month ago, has only just been noticed?” Wilbur asked, and Techno groaned.

“Yes, Wil! What’s so hard to understand?”

“Why wasn’t this kid on your radar before he took down Phil’s guards and his fucking lazars!” Wilbur yelled, and Phil winced slightly. “How did he even manage to take down those lazars?! Aren’t they deeply encrypted with code to make sure they can’t be turned off by outside sources?”

“That’s why I’m so concerned, Wil.” Phil managed out, somehow managing to have a smile on his face despite the terrible situation they’ve found themselves in. “He wasn’t on Techno’s radar because no one has ever been this big of a threat before, we didn’t expect a vigilante of all people to be able to do such things.”

“What’s this kid’s power anyway?” Wilbur spat, and Phil and Techno shared a knowing glance. “Oh my god, you don’t know.”

“Well, we know he can make people do certain things, like mind control but also… not.” Techno drifted off, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Apparently some of my people even saw him drive a car that didn’t have a wheel.” Phil explained, and that only puzzles them more. “So unless the car somehow had a form of autopilot, I think we have some strange ass power on our hands.”

“Not stranger than Wilbur’s.” Techno scoffed, and the man immediately started to defend himself, Phil hiding his laughs behind his hand.

Techno had never had a true family.

His parents never paid enough attention to him, they taught him to be emotionless and silent whenever guests were around, they taught him that learning a musical instrument was a waste of time and his time would be better spent studying. And then, aged 11 he joined a gang who named themselves ‘The Blades’.

That’s where he had gotten his name, ‘Technoblade’.

The names of his associates were long gone with the hazy memories, but he did remember one person teaching him how to accurately hold a gun, another teaching him not to shake whilst doing so.

One person had spent days going over Greek Mythology with him, making sure he knew every fact and every retelling.

Another had taught him that family should be left behind, family meant weakness and weakness meant death.

Aged 15, Techno realised that maybe they were wrong. Maybe he was capable of more than what The Blades had to offer. And that’s how The Syndicate was born.

When Techno was 17, he met Phil through official business, and the man had been shocked at how young he was. Phil was the first person to show that he cared, and it was because he was concerned that Techno was throwing himself into the business too soon. When he’d found out just how young Techno was thrown into it, the man had cried.

The Great Philza, a man who’d seen empires fall and strong men weep.

Philza had cried in front of him, purely because of Techno’s life.

And then, it was on Techno’s 19th birthday that he’d met Wilbur. It was at the latter’s 19th birthday party, at the dawn of L’Manberg when the group itself was only small. Wilbur had been shocked at first that they were born on the same day, but by the end of the night had his arm slung over Techno’s arm as he called them twins (Techno didn’t stop him, sipping Pepsi max through a straw. His indifference definitely wasn’t because of the warmth forming in his chest at the idea of having a brother.)

And that was how the Sleepy Boys Incorporated began.

Except it was a little more illegal than an incorporation, but who was going to tell them to change the name?

Plus, it’s not like the public knew their alliance was called that, more-so they knew it as the ‘SBI’, admittedly a lot more terrifying than what it stood for.

The SBI were rumoured to be family, some even said by blood. Techno wished that was true, that Phil was truly his Dad and that Wilbur wasn’t just his twin by coincidence. However, that didn’t take away from how he truly saw them.

Blood or not, they were his family. And Phil had taught him a valuable lesson once, and that was that family always stick together, and they protect each-other no matter the cost.

No matter how large Theseus’ determination was to take The Syndicate, and the SBI, down, Techno knew his will to keep his family safe was stronger.

No Theseus was going to kill him, no matter how much effort it took.

—

As it turned out, Theseus was stupid.

“Unless he’s stupid enough”, Ranboo had said, “He won’t come for The Syndicate” they said.

Techno was enjoying a moment of silence with his caramel macchiato when he got a notification from the entrance security cameras, and immediately checked them. The sight that met him was Theseus, eyes creased as if he was smiling, giving the guards a short wave.

“Go away kid, vigilantes aren’t welcome unless affiliated with The Blood God himself.” One of them, Hannah was her name, told him, her eyes sharp with something fierce that usually put people off. But Theseus just hummed, looking around them for a moment before moving his hands behind his back. If it wasn’t for the camera angle, Techno would’ve missed it.

The kid’s hands moved in such an elegant, calculated way, and as he did so that fierce look in Hannah’s eyes changed to something warm and almost endeared. “I think that The Blood God has made an exception for me, didn’t he tell you to let me in?”

The other guard must’ve noticed something was off, glaring at Theseus as he spoke. “What did you do to her?” Puffy spat, hands curling tighter around her sword as she held it up to Theseus’ neck. Surprisingly, Theseus simply smiled again, using his other hand and copying the same elegant movements as before.

“The Blood God ordered you to spar, and ordered that I meet with him, he told you this.”

And it was like a switch was flipped.

They both simultaneously smiled, moving to the side and motioning to the doorway. “Well,” Hannah started, chuckling to herself, “Who are we to disobey the boss’ orders?”

“Well, who knew the Technoblade hired such sweethearts.”

Hannah continued to smile, but Puffy’s smile turned back into that sharp powerful thing it usually was, bringing her sword down onto Theseus’ back without giving him a moment to block, yelping as he fell to the ground.

Kid. Fully dependant on ability. Overestimates his ability. Underestimates members of The Syndicate. Didn’t go for L’Manberg. Didn’t invade The Antarctic Empire after taking down their defences. Had head guard Puffy in a headlock-

Wait what?

“Ranboo.” Techno called, the person immediately appearing in front of him with a hum. “Teleport me to the front gates.”

Without a second question, Ranboo sent a puff of particles to Techno’s chest, and after a moment of pure terror, Techno appeared in front of Theseus, his own sword flicking beside him.

“Nice to meet you too.” Techno welcomed, the kid’s head shooting up immediately, a grin gracing his face as he held Puffy tight. Hannah still seemed to be in a trance.

“Ah, Technoblade.” No one calls him Technoblade but his family and his mortal enemies, but Theseus definitely wasn’t family. “Was expecting you to show up some time soon.”

“Please let my guard out of your grasp before I make you.” Techno commanded, and despite his kind words the tone it was spoken with was nothing but deadly.

It seemed Theseus heard the threat, releasing his arms and holding them by his head, keeping that same wicked grin on his face as Puffy huffed out as she hit the floor.

“Take Hannah out of that trance.”

Theseus clicked his fingers, and Hannah blinked, looking back with confusion. “What the-“

“Take me inside your institution, Blood God.” Theseus demanded, and Techno could only frown, raising an eyebrow at the other. “Let me see what I’m up against.”

“I mean, I was planning to invite you inside for a friendly cup of Starbucks coffee, but it’s quite rude to demand entrance in a place where you’re not welcome.” Techno spat back, and Theseus continued to smile.

“And what made me, of all people, exiled from The Syndicate?” Theseus asked, his amused tone only making that fire inside Techno grow. Oh how he wanted to slit this vigilante’s throat, but he wasn’t taught patience for nothing. But his patience was running incredibly thin.

“You messed with my family.” Finally, finally, Theseus faltered, and Techno took this moment of weakness to let the kid’s blood thrum under his own veins, tugging it towards him. “And people who mess with my family, mess with me, but you knew that didn’t you?”

“I knew Philza was part of the SBI alliance,” Theseus admitted, a dark glint to his eye that was much different to the amusement it once held. “But your family? If I knew he was family I would never had messed with him.”

Techno scoffed. “Please, I don’t believe that for a second.” He scowled as he rolled his eyes. “Ranboo.”

“Yes Techno?” Theseus’ eyes went wide as he looked at Ranboo.

“Take us to my office, please.” He asked with a small smile towards the man, and they were off in a puff of particles.

—

Being in an office alone with Theseus was unbearable. He’d taken the first chance to handcuff the kid to the chair across from his desk, but he didn’t stop talking.

“So one day, like, I woke up with this epiphany that I could be so poggers and just be epic.” He chattered on, and Techno was hardly listening as he messaged several help calls to the SBI group chat - they were mafia bosses, not weirdos, they have a group chat - who laughed but promised they were on their way.

“So is Wilbur Soot, like, your brother or something?” Theseus asked, spinning mindlessly as Techno hummed.

“Twin.”

“That’s poggers.”

“What does that even mean?”

Theseus said a lot of strange things in the time it took for Phil and Wilbur to arrive.

Something something kill something something control something something boring something something The Blades-

“The Blades?” Techno asked, his curiosity showing before he could mask it, and Theseus paused, giving him a strange look before slowly nodding.

“They found me when I was 9, taught me everything I know, and most specifically that you’re a massive dick!” Tommy expressed, and Techno simply stared, pinching his noses and rubbing his eyes.

Well that explained a lot.

“What did they tell you, Theseus?” Techno pressed, hearing a knock on the door that neither of them paid attention to.

“That you’re a traitor, that you abandoned them for your own selfishness- hell, you went against every rule they teach you in there!”

The knock came again. No one commented.

“I did what was best for me! What they teach is all a calculated lie, and you know it.”

“Techno?” Wilbur’s voice called from outside. No one opened the door for him.

“The Blades teach you how to control your abilities, you took their teachings and created a brutal empire with zero credit.”

“Credit? They want credit? They did nothing good for me, and I’m sure they never did anything good for you-“

“They saved me.”

“No, they saw a powerful ability and wanted it for themselves, you’re just a kid.”

The door was slammed open, and Philza stood on the other side, his dark black wings having been retracted likely for intimidation purposes. The man’s eyebrow was raised, blue eyes shimmering dangerous as they flickered between the two sat at the desk.

“I sure hope you’re insured on this building, Technoblade.” Philza scoffed, smiling before relaxing at the sight of the handcuffs, tugging Wilbur in by his upper arm. “Who’s this fantastic guest we have here?” He asked, but a type of anger coated his words that made Theseus sink in a little on himself, before immediately righting himself, likely smiling with pride.

“Theseus, pleased to meet your acquaintance Philza.” Theseus introduced, going to offer his hand before frowning, tugging at the cuffs before groaning. Philza smiled at this, Wilbur huffed at the kid’s annoyance. Techno saw through the facade.

“Phil, do you have any way to restrain his fingers, I have no doubt he can break out of these things if he tried.” There was a warning written between his words, as he stared at Theseus sat in front of him. A warning that said ‘if you even try I will make sure you don’t get out of this room alive’, and the kid seemed to understand, his smile dropping from his face.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec.” Phil replied, shoving his hands deep in his pockets before pulling out two very strange metal contraptions, walking over and taking the boy’s hands carefully in his own.

“Who knew the Angel of Death was such a sweetheart?” Theseus scoffed, watching closely as the metal slotted onto his fingers. Wilbur’s face was full of confusion, Techno managed a smile, and Phil shot the kid the dirtiest look known to man.

The Angel of Death? Is that what they call Phil? That’s so much cooler than the Blood God.

No matter how much Theseus preached The Blades had saved him, they both knew better. Techno knew the look of longing in the kid’s eyes too well, as Phil’s warm hands held his own with unseen care. Techno had been there once, in a similar situation, and it made him question the authority in his life and how they’d never been so kind. It made him want a father, and he knew Theseus felt the same.

“There, he shouldn’t be able to move-“

“Do you have terrible parents or dead ones?” Techno asked before he could stop himself, Wilbur’s face going absolutely distraught as Phil’s went shocked. Surprisingly, Theseus gave him a small smile behind his mask.

“Died when I was nine, The Blades found me before the police arrived at the scene.” He returned, almost challenging.

“The Blades?” Phil asked quietly to himself, waiting for the shock on Techno’s face that never came.

“Right. And how long ago was that?”

The kid paused, a thoughtful glint in his eye as he stared Techno down, the man in turn returning it full force.

“Seven years ago.”

He leaned back in his chair, leaning his legs on the desk and crossing one leg over the other.

“And they prepared you to come after me? Didn’t they?” Techno asked, and Theseus for once stayed absolutely silent. “They saw your ability and knew you were their best chance at taking The Syndicate down, a small vulnerable boy with a manipulative ability.”

“They took me in because I needed help, I needed saving, this is just me repaying the debt-“

“Keep telling yourself that kiddo.”

The room was in silence for a moment, and it was Wilbur who eventually broke it.

“You think they raised him for the soul purpose of killing you?” Wilbur asked slowly, silence being enough confirmation. “What kind of sadists would do that?”

When Techno looked at Theseus, he saw exactly what he’d felt eight years ago. Worry, realisation, and yet resignation to the truth. Acceptance of the difficult, in simpler words.

“You can stay here, if you’d like.” Techno offered, and everyone in the room turned to him in shock, even Ranboo who stood with a tray of four Starbucks drinks in hand, jaw slightly ajar. Understandably, Theseus was wary.

“There’s a but.”

“But,” Techno continued, smiling when the kid sighed. “You have to tell me your name and tell me your ability.”

His quiet consideration was shocking enough.

His answer was even more so.

“My name is Tommy, and I know this will sound so dumb but I can rewire anything.”

“Like TV’s?” Phil asked, cocking his head as Tommy smiled, nodding.

“Oh! And, like, can you rewire lightbulbs to make them brighter?”

“Bit dumb but yes.”

“And brains.” Techno finished, looking at Tommy closely as he froze, looking back at Techno with a careful eye. “That’s how you control people, you rewire their brains with that weird finger motion.”

“The Blades taught you well, quite perceptive you are.” Tommy teased, and Techno would he lying if he said he didn’t feel a little pride from the statement.

After all, you can leave The Blades.

But The Blades never leave you.

“Welcome to The Syndicate, Tommy.” Techno said with a smile, walking over and tugging his mask down, a young but scarred face staring back at him with a hopeful smile.

Tommy was too young, taken too young, melded because of his own selfishness.

The least he could do was take him in and love him like a brother, because he knew Wilbur would grow a liking to him in the first few days, and Phil’s fatherly tendencies would forgive him even sooner.

“It’s a pleasure to be here, Blood God.”

“Call me Techno.”

Tommy’s smile was bright, and Techno was shocked to find his brighter.

—————

Sbi sbi sbi sbi

Fun facts about this au:

- Techno has a pig mask to cover his face, but instead of it being pink it’s black and has glitter because he’s fancy like that

- Tommy knew The Blades influence was bad, but never had anyone better to look up to - hence, Technoblade, which was why he accepted the help

- Phil had wanted to adopt Wilbur and Techno, but they were both too old by the time he’d even suggested it. He adopts Tommy before his 18th.

- The Blades get pissy that Tommy gave in so easily and literally fall out with each-other; Techno’s kindness was the fall of the organisation that had shaped him (and also traumatised him). In English teacher terms, this shows how they no longer have any power over him at all, going against their ideals and taking them down in the process

- Wilbur finds Tommy rewiring his own guard’s minds and tells him off, only to find he was sneaking in to hear him play his guitar because Techno said he could play

- Since Twinsduo’s first meeting, they used to go places and just preach how they were twins - more so Wilbur did and Techno went along with it. They did this so often that sometimes Techno forgot they weren’t actually related.

Hope you all enjoyed :D

[autumnalwalker]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Thank you for the tag, @druidx.

Passing the(optional) tag to @dyrewrites, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @the-down-upside-finch, @theprissythumbelina, @junypr-camus, @korblez, and an open tag to anyone else looking for an excuse to share snippets.

Here's some snippets from the most recent POV cycle of chapters for Empty Names:

One: Chapter 17 - Embedded Media

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you do yourself a disservice in selling yourself too short.”  Glassheart pauses for a moment and then continues as serenely as ever.  “That said, it would be remiss of me not to advise caution in continuing down your current path.  You are recombining elements of disparate magic systems in novel ways and breaking rules seemingly without even being aware that they exist.  Some would call that reckless.  Some would call it offensive disregard for tradition.  Some might even brand it as sorcery, inherently dangerous or ripe enough for abuse to be taboo for all but the strongest-willed of mages to attempt.”

Lacuna attempts to examine Glassheart’s face for some hint of expression or emotion.  Is he saying that he finds the idea she just ran by him offensive?  She forces a nervous laugh.

“It can’t be that bad, right?  I’m just one amateur dabbler poking around in a lab finding overly-convoluted ways to do what’s simple for anyone else.  I’m not even a real mage.”

“It most likely is not.  But the rituals your system generates are unlike anything else I have encountered or heard of, and that which is unfamiliar ofttimes makes people nervous.”

“I… Thanks for the warning?  I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Two: Chapter 17 - Embedded Media

She presses her thumb into the designated section of the scepter, gripping with intent, and the pre-recorded accelerated incantation begins emanating from the tube, causing the ornament at the tip to begin glowing in response.  The glow brightens, slides off of the ornament and coalesces into a fist-sized glowing ball floating in the air.  After having only run for a second, the near-static noise of the incantation stops but the floating mote of light remains.  It briefly flickers as Lacuna lets her concentration slip in a moment of astonishment that it worked on the first try, but quickly stabilizes when she refocuses her attention.

She repeats the process three more times at different spots in the testing chamber, and then on the fifth she allows the recorded incantation to loop long enough to draw the shaky approximation of a cat’s face in the air.  She laughs and the lights pulse in time to her voice.  It’s an unexpected side effect that causes her laughter to redouble until the lights almost wink out before she gets a grip on her concentration again.

The next time she runs the portable ritual it is with slightly different intent.  She points the scepter at an empty spot in the air and the previous conjurations begin to converge and orbit the target point in space.  She sweeps her arm and the lights move to the new focal point some yards away from the scepter.  At Lacuna’s will they draw closer and then move further out.  

Grinning wildly, Lacuna begins waving the scepter about and clumsily twirling around the testing chamber to the off-kilter rhythm of a half-remembered theme song.  The conjured lights trail behind her like streamers for a drunken ribbon dancer.  She stops for the briefest moment of catching her all-too-easily-winded breath while holding the scepter as straight up as her wobbling arms can manage so the lights begin swirling above her, and then she swings the scepter down to point at the training dummy on the other end of the testing chamber.  

Disappointingly, the lights don’t so much streak toward their target as drift in its direction at a brisk pace, but at least that gives Lacuna ample time to close her eyes when the first glowing ball misses its target entirely and bursts into a bright flash upon hitting the wall behind it.  When the floating cat face manages to clip the edge of the dummy, its dying flash is enough to leave her seeing spots through tinted goggles and closed eyelids.  

All in all, a successful test apart from her poor aim.  She’s panting and working up a sweat, but that’s to be expected with how she got carried away.  Maybe she should give joining Eris at the gym another try.  Her hand does seem even hotter than expected though…

She looks down at the scepter and realizes the metal tube is beginning to glow ever so slightly from heat and the incantation has dropped to barely audible instead of stopping altogether like it’s supposed to.  The heat gets painful even through her safety gloves and Lacua drops the scepter on poorly-trained reflex.  She has just enough presence of mind to turn away before the fragile 3D test print of the ritual ornament on the tip of the scepter hits the ground and shatters.

Examining herself after the ensuing flash, Lacuna finds that much of the color has been bleached out of the backside of her clothes.  Touching the back of her neck - exposed from putting her hair up as a safety precaution - she winces.  She’ll need to be sure to keep her hair down and in place for the next week or two so the others don’t notice the new sunburn.

Three: Chapter 18 - Mom Energy

“Somehow though, he looks at all of this, does the tactical calculus, and concludes that Hild is the biggest threat - or maybe he was just mad at her breaking free - so he points a hand at her and his fingers extend, shooting across the room.  Road realizes what’s happening in time to parry it enough to keep it from taking off her head, but the vamp mage still manages to rip a gash in Hild from jugular to heart.

“Here’s the thing about vampires that makes them so annoying to kill: Short of beheading or burning, they can recover from basically anything so long as they have the blood.  So pro-tip, if you find yourself fighting a vampire without a stake and you don’t think you can get a killing blow on them, hit them someplace that they’ll bleed a lot.  And it has to be external bleeding.  A decent size cut’s harder for them to recover from than broken bones or ruptured organs.  Get them in the heart or jugular and they’ll bleed out nearly as fast as a human if they don’t get the chance to feed in the next minute or so.

“On the flip side, if you’re ever trying to save a vampire, the number one most important thing is to give them something to drink; the fresher and stronger the better.”

Eris holds up the child-sized bite mark on her wrist for everyone to get a good look at again.  Damn, but does it feel good to watch the realization dawn on her audience’s faces.  Especially the ones who’d laughed at it earlier.

Four: Chapter 18 - Mom Energy

In the past fifteen minutes since Eris knocked on Lacuna’s door hard enough to chip the paint and wake the neighbors, she’s watched her best friend’s face change from terrified to concerned to embarrassed to anxious to worried to confused and now to utterly horrified.

“Oh goddess, I am so sorry.  I swear I didn’t think that would happen.  I knew there might be complications but I didn’t think that even could happen.  I’m sorry.  I should have seen this coming.  I should have run more simulations.  I shouldn’t have needed to.  It’s so -”

“Sis -”

“- obvious in hindsight.  Not even hindsight, it's just obvious.  How could I be so stupid?  I’m sorry.  I promise this was an accident.  Maybe if I - No that would be worse.  I swear I -”

“Hey -”

“- can make this right.  Or maybe it’s already showing signs of abating.  This is what I get for not taking a baseline model first.  Please don’t be mad.  I’m so, so, sorry.  I just -”

“Lacuna!”

Lacuna flinches at the not-quite-a-shout and goes quiet, shrinking back into the round papasan chair seated in her apartment’s living room.

“I’m not mad at you,” Eris lies.  Maybe if she keeps still enough and keeps being slow and deliberate enough with her words and breathing it will become true.  “I believe you that whatever this is was an accident and I’m not going to hold it against you.”  That part is probably true.  “Now please slow down for a minute and tell me what you think you did to me and what we need to do to fix it.”

Five: Chapter 19 - Shire

Sullivan counts the seconds to give the two of them just enough time to suspect he might be dead before standing back up.  He makes a show of it, letting his body go totally limp with the intent of being as unnerving as possible when he bends first one knee and then the other to get his feet flat on the ground before raising himself up simply by straightening his legs in defiance of the sort of leverage the human musculoskeletal system should be able to provide from that angle.  He allows his arms to hang and his head to loll back as he rises with deliberate slowness.

Six gunshots ring out in rapid succession just as his waist starts to bend forward again.  Six bullets trailing comet tails of brilliant green light tear holes in his chest and chunks out of his shoulders.  They fail to knock him back down.

The punch to his still-regenerating face from the doll doesn’t.

Rude.

Some people simply have no taste for the theatrical it would seem.

Six: Chapter 19 - Shire

“Now now, Mr. Whelan,” Morgan says, “are you really so sure you want to be so dismissive about the efficacy of threats in front of an accomplished witch and an infamous assassin?”

Lachlan quails, shrinking back into his chair.  Sullivan stands up, steps behind him, and slides the chair in closer to the table, pinning the shriveled little alchemist between the two.

“You bleeding idiots!” Lachlan shouts.  Frustrated, not terrified.  How curious.  “I’m tr-”  More choking on words.  “That w-  You can’t -  Idiots, the both of you!”

Morgan and Sullivan look from Lachlan to one another, back to Lachlan, back to one another.

Stella looks up, staring at some spot on the white popcorn ceiling.

Morgan slaps a palm to her forehead.

“Goddesses, Green, and Void, we are idiots, aren’t we?” Morgan says.

“You said it, not me,” Sullivan replies.

“It’s so obvious.”

“A classic really.”

“Why didn’t we see it sooner?”

“I would have expected better from a witch of your caliber.”

“I would have expected better from Bridgewood’s trophy husband.”

“Touché.”

“The most annoying kind of curse.”

“Or contract.”

“The one you can’t talk about.”

“Even worse than the one you can’t remember.”

“Are you familiar with the telepathy loophole?”

“Invasive, but effective.”

“It’ll be for his own good.”

“And you’re not worried about inducing geas rejection syndromes?”

“Eh, he seems to be fine despite us figuring this much out from his hints.”

“This is why I love working with anchor world mages.”

“Hold him still for me, please?”

“Since you said please.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but why not have your doll do it?”

“Because someone broke her hands and the glue’s still drying.”

“And again, touché.”

“Want him unconscious?”

“It’ll work better if he’s awake.”

Lachlan looks up in what is finally fear at the two discussing him as if he weren’t there.

Seven: Chapter 20 - Changeling Child (coming soon-ish)

“Tell me Tam Lin,” Ashan asks, “what brings you here today?” 

The green hand twitches at the Name’s emphasis, even without any attempt at nominal magic infused into his voice.  Yes, definitely one of the fair folk, but why the guileless deception?  Why take such risk with a Name freely spoken, as sensitive as their kind are to that?

“The website,” Tam says,  “it said you can help with weird stuff like this.  You can help me, right?”

“Most likely,” Ashan answers, “but first we need to know more specifically what your problem is.”

“If I may,” Lacuna speaks up from where she has perched on an ottoman at the other end of the couch from Tam.  As she slips her phone back into her skirt pocket and intently looks Tam up and down all her earlier disorientation has vanished completely.  Ashan knows that eager, almost hungry look.  It is a look he has seen on experimentally-minded wizards presented with a unique specimen and alchemists greedily eying rare reagents.  And on children seeing their favorite animal in the flesh for the first time.

With only the slightest misgiving, Ashan nods in assent.

Lacuna’s eyes light up and she leans in even closer.  “Right.  So.  Tam.  Let me know if I miss the mark anywhere.  As a kid you saw all sorts of fairies and similar magic.  When you got older you wrote them off as childhood make believe, but ever since you had strange and vivid dreams about them.  Maybe you even were one in your dreams.  When you hit puberty, those dreams got more frequent.  More intense.  Easier to remember.  Almost a second life whenever you were at your lowest points.  Still just dreams at the end of the night though.  Nothing you couldn’t put out of mind and focus on the ‘real world.’  And then one day.  A recent day.  I would guess.  One or both of your parents died.  Ever since, you’ve started having those dreams every night.  And then every time you closed your eyes.  And then when you looked in the mirror, wide awake, you looked like you did in your dreams.  That’s when something started following you.  Not knowing where else to turn, you turned to the Internet, and found us.  No one answered your calls or the message you left.  That’s my bad.  Real sorry about that.  So you hopped in the car and drove all night to our address.”

Tam stares at her, eyes wide and jaw agape.  “My moms are still alive, but everything else is - how did you know?”

Ashan tilts his head, surprised and curious to know himself.

Lacuna slips back into her usual discomfort, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.  “Sorry.  That was weird of me, wasn’t it?  Got carried away.  Touches on a… special interest of mine.  So.  Basically.  You’re a changeling.  A fairy swapped with a human baby to be raised in its place to take its Name.”

“You’re joking,” Tam denies.

“You were quite literally shapeshifting in front of me,” Ashan points out.

“Not intentionally,” Tam says.

“It wouldn’t be,” Lacuna says.  “Historically speaking, most children accused of being changelings were just some flavor of neurodivergent.  The real ones tend to blend in as normally as the baby they swapped with would have, fooling even themselves.  Not that there isn’t overlap between the two from time to time.  A Name isn’t just the name it’s tied to, it’s a whole identity, physical and mental.  Most changelings have no idea they’re not human until something triggers a change, at which point whatever fae liege made the bargain will come to retrieve them.  Or send a servant to do so.  Kinder ones will be upfront about it and explain things.  Maybe even make an offer to continue living as you are.” 

“And crueler ones will send a hunting beast to drag you back kicking and screaming,” Ashan posits.

Tam’s nervous nod is all the confirmation Ashan needs as to what tripped the wards around the office.

[gumify]

ESPRESSO feat. satoru gojo ❝ WALKED IN AND DREAM CAME TRUED IT FOR YA ! ❞

now playing... espresso by sabrina carpenter.

summary. never in your life did you think a silly coffee shop tradition with your friends would result in a game of cat-and-mouse with an unabashedly flirtatious barista. but, then again, you’d never met satoru gojo.

tags. barista!satoru x fem!reader, college au, non-curse au, fluff, strangers to lovers, reader’s lowkey a menace & toru’s highkey delusional.

wc. 2.9k

note. first post everybody cheered !!! ‘m missing my blue-eyed loser more than usual today so enjoy this entirely self-indulgent piece 😣💢

ㅤ ㅤㅤyou and your friends have this… thing, you see.

it all started years ago, when you’d begun to develop a raging caffeine addiction in the midst of your final exams. it was then that your best friends had dragged you to the coziest café on campus, and it was there that they let you in on their little secret.

thinking back, you remember it being utahime who had whispered the words in your ear with a giggle. the words you’d hold yourself to for the rest of your university life; and the words you probably should have turned down if only you'd known better.

the words being: “when you place your order, don’t give the barista your actual name.”

you’d stared at her as if she were crazy.

"... why?"

“because it’s funny!”

“is it, though?”

“of course!” this time, it was shoko that insisted. “we’ve been playing around with these guys for weeks now — you’ve gotta see the looks on their faces every time we walk in with a new name!”

you gave in with a halfhearted shrug. "whatever you say, ieiri.”

and just like that, your trio’s tradition was born.

some days, you like to coordinate your aliases according to characters from books, movies or tv shows you’ve been enjoying. most days, it’s whatever random name pops into your minds as you walk into the coffee shop.

today, you decide on the former.

“we should totally do friends.” utahime chirps, bouncing on her toes as the three of you are heading to your usual morning pick-me-up spot. “in honor of all those reruns we watched last weekend!”

“in honor of all those reruns you watched last weekend.” shoko corrects, “we tapped out as soon as mr. ‘we were on a break!’ got too big for his boots.”

“and missed out on a whole seven incredible seasons!” utahime protests.

you shake your head with a chuckle, “guess we know who’s being rachel, then.”

“i call dibs on phoebe!” shoko’s quick to announce.

“i— hey!” you pout, “you know she’s my favourite character!”

“you snooze you lose, y/n.”

“what do you have against monica anyways, hm?” utahime instigates.

“nothing. she’s just not phoebe.” you reply, plain and simple.

“she did get the best love story of the entire series…” utahime hums. “who knows?” her brows wiggle in jest, “we could be manifesting something for you.”

your trio exchanges a brief look — before bursting into fits of laughter.

“yeah, right!”

it’s no secret that love has found it’s way to the bottom of your list of priorities over the years. hell, if it’s even on the list at all! you’ve had your fair share of short-term boyfriends, casual flings and drunken hookups, sure, but none that you’ve truly cared about the way it always seems to be in the movies.

instead, you’ve learned to cope with the void of a significant other by filling it with things that actually matter — like your studies and social life. the truth is, with maturity came the realization that men (or boys, rather) are really just not worth your time and effort. they only ever end up disappointing you at the end of the day, so what’s the point? you figure a life of independence is definitely the way to go, and your friends couldn’t agree more.

“now let's pick up the pace!” mentally shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you grab the women by their wrists to march onward with a newfound sense of purpose. “i’m about two seconds away from falling asleep on the sidewalk if i don’t get my morning coffee, stat!” ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤwalking into the café feels like reaching an oasis after days spent stranded in the desert.

you, shoko and utahime breathe a collective sigh of relief upon basking in the trademark scent of freshly roasted coffee beans wafting through the air. it’s quite busy for a wednesday morning, with students and professors bustling to and from the front counter for their fixes. most of the buttery leather sofas scattered around the space are occupied, and more books than usual are missing from the shelves that line the sage green walls.

in light of valentine’s day approaching soon, the space has been fittingly decorated with fairy lights, pink streamers, and candy heart posters. upon closer inspection, you realise some of the candy hearts have handwritten messages or doodles scrawled onto them instead of the usual one-liners you’re used to seeing. you also happen to notice the one stuck to the pastry display case has the words ‘hmu if u can pay off my student loans :p’ written on it, which pulls an amused chuckle from your lips.

“earth to y/n…”

shoko sends a playful poke to your ribs, reminding you that you’re next in line.

“hm? oh!”

you shuffle toward the register — only to find an unfamiliar face smiling at you.

oh.

it knocks the wind from your lungs for a moment.

you’ve been a regular at this café for years now, but it’s the first you’ve seen of this particular barista. he’s tall, with milky soft skin and stark white hair that falls over a pair of shades nestled precariously on the edge of his button nose. his cheekbones are sharp, lips pillowy and naturally curved into a smirk. a certain aura of boyish charm radiates from this stranger, and it’s now that you deduce: he must be new.

not to mention attractive. straight-out-of-the-movies, double-take-worthy levels of it.

and he seems to think the same of you, if the way he’s blatantly staring at you from across the counter is anything to go by.

“ya’ like the message?” he hums, tilting his sunglasses further down the bridge of his nose to reveal a pair of striking aquamarine irises. they sparkle in the warm lighting of the café as they shift between your own and the decoration that had distracted you earlier — and from this mannerism alone, something inside you stirs. this guy screams trouble.

“‘s funny, i guess.” you admit.

“glad to know someone appreciates my work.” leaning his forearms against the counter, he shoots you a kilowatt grin. “so what can i get for your gorgeous, indebted self today?”

the total lack of subtlety has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “you discuss crippling debt with all your customers?”

the handsome stranger’s hair falls over his eyes when he laughs, a hand raising to rake through the silk-like strands. “mmm… nah,” he pauses, allowing even more cheek to seep into his flirtatious tone. “just the cute ones.”

“lucky me.” you drawl sarcastically. you feel his piercing gaze remain on you while you scan the menu. “i’ll take a cappuccino, thanks.”

“and your name?” he pops the cap of a sharpie open with his teeth, brows raised behind the rim of a takeaway cup. but something about the twinkle in his eyes and the mischief lacing his tone tells you he’s asking more for his own sake, rather than that of the order.

“monica.” you lie. answer.

“monica…” he repeats, scribbling away on the cup. you can see the name bouncing around the confines of his skull as he muses, “pretty name for a pretty girl.”

idiot.

you give him a tight-lipped smile, paying wordlessly before slipping away from the line and back to your friends. if you were to stay around the barista and his charms any longer, you think you’d start to rot from all the sugarcoated compliments.

“what took you so long?” utahime pries as soon as you reunite with her at the waiting area.

“don’t worry about it.” you murmur.

the younger girl shrugs, turning her attention back to what she was preoccupied with before your return. she and shoko seem to be in some kind of laid back conversation with another barista — who you recognize, of course, from the countless times you’ve visited this café and the handful of lectures you share on occasion.

“g’morning, suguru!” you greet him with a smile.

your classmate returns the pleasantries, and you jump into the conversation whilst waiting for your order to be made. it’s nothing too serious — brief mentions of mutual friends, upcoming exams, and a couple bantery comments thrown about — all foregrounded by the sound of cups clinking and milk steaming as the four of you will the time away.

“orders up for rachel, phoebe, and monica!”

suguru, catching onto the names that were just called out, gives your trio an exasperated shake of his head. “are you guys seriously still doing this?”

“oh, shut up.” shoko tsks, “it’s funny!”

“tell that to all my co-workers who think you’re going through an identity crisis every week.” the man chuckles.

utahime returns with three takeaway cups in hand, passing them out to you and shoko. as soon as you take a sip, you sigh contentedly at the well-made beverage. see, this happens to be one of the many reasons this particular café is your favorite spot on campus — aside from the homey atmosphere and friendly staff, of course — they know how to make a damn good cup of coffee.

“did you guys change the recipe or something?” you ask suguru. eyes wide, you take another gulp of your cappuccino. “this is even better than usual!”

“enjoying yet another one of my creations, hm?”

the stranger from before appears behind suguru before he’s even able to formulate a reply, flashing you a second trademark smile.

“really laying it on thick with the praises this morning, pretty. might make me blush if ya’ keep at it.”

you scoff, “that’s rich coming from you.”

“heh, guilty.”

you’ve never met anyone so forward as the man in front of you. with the way his eyes haven’t stopped glittering since you’d first come into contact with them, you’d think he’s been harboring some kind of secret crush on you for years, as opposed to the two of you only having met each other mere minutes before. you wonder how on earth someone could be so unabashed toward a total stranger — not to mention the fact that he doesn’t even know your name! or, your real name, to be precise.

“dude, stop hitting on all my friends.” suguru tsks, shooting an unimpressed look toward his co-worker.

“only when you stop being friends with beautiful women.” he counters playfully.

“stuck between three chronic liars and a serial flirt…” the raven-haired man goes on to mumble, though the smile remaining on his face suggests his amusement at it all despite the sarcasm that drips from his next words. “happy wednesday to me.”

you, shoko and utahime laugh in unison, while the newcomer’s brows knit together in puzzlement.

“chronic liars?”

now it’s suguru’s turn to let out a snicker. he takes a moment to explain your trio’s odd tradition to the befuddled man beside him.

“wait…” he shakes his head, turning to you once more. “so your name isn’t monica?”

“nope.” you confirm.

“huh.” he chuckles, shaking his head to himself. the tradition itself sounds awfully pointless to him — but that’s not to say he doesn’t see the fun in it. “what is it, then?” he asks.

“wouldn’t you love to know?” you tease.

you could make a fun game out of this, you think.

“yeah.” he replies wholeheartedly, “i would, actually.”

the stranger leans his weight against the counter, as if his body were subconsciously trying to close the gap between the two of you. as if your name were the most coveted secret he’d die without knowing. and in this moment, he thinks, it just might be.

“hmm—”

ding! ding! ding!

alas, the campus bell gongs; signalling the start of your next class and cutting your deliberation short.

“guess we’ll have to save it for another time.”

shoko and utahime are conveniently wrapping up their conversation with suguru on the side, and you take this as the perfect opportunity to slip away.

“i’ll see you around…” your gaze drifts from the stranger’s twinkling eyes, past the blush creeping down his neck, right until you reach the name tag pinned over his chest. “satoru.”

and just like that, you’re gone. ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤsatoru gojo is fucked.

undeniably, irreversibly fucked.

it’s been two days since his first introduction to you and, already, his mind is stuck in some sort of permanent frenzy.

nothing but thoughts of you, with your playful smile and addicting gaze. you, who smelled of vanilla and warm laundry and everything good and right in this world. the way you’d bounced ever-so-lightly on your toes as you savored the taste of his cappuccino — the one he’d made sure to steam to perfection, when he’s usually receiving warnings from his manager for burning the milk every other day. the way your hair swung effortlessly with every step you took. the way your jeans hugged your figure in all the right places.

and the way you said his name… god— the way it sounded falling from your rose-petaled lips, in your silken voice…

satoru could get drunk off the thought of it alone.

and maybe he is; wide awake at the crack of dawn, staring up at his ceiling in a weak attempt to will away these thoughts of you that never seem to take a breather… perhaps drunk would be the only word to describe it.

“tch,” he grunts, splaying his long limbs against the cold sheets. “feel like a fuckin’ teenager.”

how could a single interaction affect him this damn much? and to think he never even got your name!

admittedly, this predicament is odd, even for satoru. he can’t remember the last time he’s been so irrationally hooked, so delusional, over a woman — if at all. the feeling courses through his body like a shot of espresso (ha.) and before he knows it, he’s reaching for his phone and giving in to the devil on his shoulder. ㅤ

thot daughter • 02:50 AM

sugubooo <3 my bestest friend in the whole wide worlddd

delivered

ㅤ satoru stares at the dimly lit screen with bated breath. waiting… waiting… waiting… until— ㅤ

gay son • 03:01 AM

?

read

ㅤ the man damn near jumps out of his covers upon receiving the notification; a premature victory. ㅤ

thot daughter • 03:01 AM

oh shit you’re actually up

gay son • 03:01 AM

phys exam tomorrow don’t tell me you forgot?

read

ㅤ gay son • 03:05 AM

satoru…

thot daughter • 03:06 AM

FUCK

gay son • 03:06 AM

🤦‍♂️

thot daughter • 03:07 AM

whatever, more pressing issue at hand rn

gay son • 03:07 AM

hm?

thot daughter • 03:07 AM

remember that friend of yours who dropped by the café the other day 👀

read

ㅤ gay son • 03:08 AM

no. before you even ask, it’s a no.

thot daughter • 03:08 AM

CMON MAN PLEAAASE 😫🙏

gay son • 03:08 AM

no.

thot daughter • 03:09 AM

JUST HER NUMBER PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING

gay son • 03:09 AM

she’s not interested in dating rn, toru.

thot daughter • 03:09 AM

i’m tryna change that 🧎‍♂️

gay son • 03:10 AM

no.

read

ㅤ gay son • 03:11 AM

besides, she told me specifically not to give anything away to you… not even her name 🤐

read

ㅤ satoru perks up even more at that.

“if she’s doin’ what i think she’s doin’…” he muses to himself, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. and though he doesn’t voice his next words aloud, he instead feels them in the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

then this just got a whole lot more fun. ㅤ

thot daughter • 03:12 AM

all the more reason to give it to me, no?

gay son • 03:12 AM

…

thot daughter • 03:12 AM

cmonnn suguuuuu

gay son • 03:13 AM

🙂↔️

thot daughter • 03:13 AM

i could make her so happy >:(

gay son • 03:13 AM

it’s giving desperate.

thot daughter • 03:14 AM

i can’t relate to desperation 🥱

gay son • 03:14 AM

ha.

read

ㅤ with it becoming more and more apparent that even his best friend wouldn’t help him get closer to you, satoru flings his phone to the bedside table with a dramatic hmpf. he’d expected the conversation with suguru to end in a successful retrieval of your contact details, to satiate even the tiniest bit of the behemoth craving in his gut, but it only added fuel to the fire.

… so he is on your radar.

enough to make you bring it up to your friends — and, better yet, to rope them into your bit.

the thought sends an all-too-familiar smirk to play at the man’s lips. after all, he’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. they only entice him all the more, as a matter of fact. especially when they look like you.

so it’s in this moment that satoru gojo decides: he will indulge in this little game of yours — and, if the prize happens to be even another crumb of your attention, he will stop at nothing to win. ㅤ

thot daughter • 03:30 AM

fine, i’ll get her name AND number myself then 😇

delivered

ㅤ a stupid grin graces the barista’s features as his head hits the pillow at last, dozing off to nothing but thoughts of you — his newfound addiction — and a promise murmured to bare walls and the hardened side of an otherwise empty bed.

“you’re so on, pretty.” ㅤ

© GUMIFY 2024 do not steal, replicate, or modify my work.

[readingat3amisnormal]

The heat was stifling, rough sand streaking across the dunes. Whirlwinds whorled in the distance, roving across the alien landscape. Against the mayhem of the pre-dawn desert, a man stood still and silent.

His hair, shaggy and unkempt from the long trek, billowed in the dry desert wind, as did his bell-bottom trousers and chic white jacket. Absently, his fingers began snapping. He whispered subconsciously, “a-dooba-doobie…”

As the sun finally broke the horizon, Elvis Presley was cowed into silence.

He stood at the peak of a sand dune, staring out at the gaping maw of the Sahara. Endless dunes, stretching as far as the eyes could see. This was it- the real deal.

The edge of his mouth curled into his characteristic smirk.

“Come now, Nenet!” he called gleefully. “We’re almost there!”

Nenet, a sprightly, athletic young woman who did not currently look it, crested the dune and collapsed onto the sand. She’d been guiding tourists across the Sahara for the better part of five years, and none had been quite as… ambitious as this strange, strange man.

Rather than go to any of the usual tourist destinations, he was insistent on travelling off the beaten path- and dragging her with him. She made sure that they were never more than half a day’s walk away from civilization at any time, though that was becoming increasingly difficult as they progressed further into the desert.

“What’s the plan for today?” she panted, placing her hands on her knees under the weight of their luggage.

“Well, sweetheart, we’re almost at where I wanna be!” he glanced down at the compass clutched in his hand. “That-a-ways!”

His white cowbody boots jived along the sand, a fine sheen of sweat clinging to him like so many overenthusiastic fans. The dust had been quite annoying the first couple of days, but he was used to it by now.

And hey, it was better than what he’d left behind.

He’d loved it once- the fame, the fortune, the drama. But lately… the magic had faded. He’d lost his drive.

Until one fateful day…

He strummed lazily on his guitar, staring off into the distance. His thumb caught on the D string with a painful twang that echoed all around the bustling city square. It was out of tune, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

So many people, going about their day. Some of them looked up at him, most didn’t. They’d grown used to him by now. He disliked it.

“Mr Presley, act your age and get down from there!”

He glanced down at the balding city official that was calling to him, and in a moment of fear touched the top of his head.

“Oh thank goodness…” he removed his fingers from his luscious curls, then went back to strumming. “You ain’t nuthin’ but a…”

“Mr Presley, you will get down from that lion this instant!” the official stamped his foot to punctuate his point.

Elvis groaned miserably. “Awwww…”

As the official tapped his foot against the ground, Elvis dropped down from the lion. The guitar was rudely snatched away, and he was instructed to go wait in the library until his lawyers arrived.

Ah, shoot.

He grooved miserably through the gilded doors and into the lobby, sincerely disappointed that this so-called ‘grand institution’ couldn’t even afford a concierge.

“Stupid government workers…” he muttered under his breath. Like clockwork, a receptionist raised a finger to their lips.

He growled in frustration and stomped over to one of the desks. Books of various shapes, sizes and colours were strewn across it, but one drew his eye- a gilded tome, with a strange cat-person doing a pose on the front.

He reached for it before he caught himself- he wasn’t some nerd! He was a rock ‘n roll cool kid! The only reason he was even in the library was to wait until the city official left the lion statue unsupervised.

Resolute, he turned his nose up and looked away.

Although…

With trepidation, as though he were defusing a bomb, he flipped the book open with one finger. It opened to a page with intricate illustrations and an unfairly fascinating title- The Search for Tutankhamun’s Tomb.

Well, one book couldn’t hurt. He reasoned.

Four hours later, with the sun going down and his next show in fifteen minutes, he stood before one of the receptionists with the book in hand.

“Now I ain’t got no bread on me right this second, miss.” He shuffled nervously. “Spent it all on some candy from this store a couple blocks down…”

“That’s alright, dearie!” She croaked, hand trembling as she accepted the book. “Why, you don’t need to pay for books at the library! You just need a library card, and I can get that for you just now! What’d you say your name was, young man?”

He jumped through all the hoops gracefully, accepted the card, the book, and a little golden star he’d gotten for being a good boy, and headed off with a smile on his face and nary a care in the world.

From there, it had been a simple matter of devouring every book on Egypt and Egyptology he could get his hands on. He’d gotten a new personal idol- Gertrude Bell- a new purpose- find Tutankhamun’s Tomb (or any tomb, for that matter)- and a new drive. He’d kept the white coat and bell-bottomed trousers, although he’d swapped out the guitar for a khaki hat.

Nothing would stop him now. Not even his dwindling finances, though the riches he would definitely find would help him along.

His experience in the field had been entirely academic until he’d bit the bullet, travelled out to Cairo, and hired Nenet to act as his guide and translator. She’d kept him sane when hunch after hunch had proven to be incorrect and had gotten them out of some sticky situations.

Now, three weeks into what was shaping up to be the greatest adventure of his lifetime, they were so close he could taste it.

“Mr. Elvis,” Nenet said, straining under the weight of their pack. “It is of course unwise to lick the walls of an ancient ruin.”

Elvis pulled away from the wall, smacking his lips. “Well, it isn’t bone, that’s for sure.”

“It’s sandstone, Mr. Elvis. I could’ve told you that.”

“Ah, but I’ve now learned it, Nenet! Groovy!”

Despite the weight on her shoulders, Nenet shrugged. “Whatever.”

After a couple more taste tests they ended up in a cul-de-sac of sorts. Walls rose around them, and stairs led down to an intimidating looking door.

With some trepidation, Nenet followed Elvis down the stairs. He stared at the door for a good half-minute, then snapped his fingers.

“I will have no locked cupboards in my life!” he proclaimed. “Gertrude Bell, unsourced.”

Nenet leaned against the wall to take some of the weight off her back. Unbeknownst to her, the pressure of her shoulder against one of the tiles caused a centuries-old mechanism to spring into action. Gears grinded, pulleys pulled, and the end result of this mechanical medley was that the door opened just as Elvis touched the tip of his tongue to it.

He paused, staring into the darkness. The air was cool but dusty, and smelled vaguely of death.

He turned back to Nenet with a smug smile on his face. “C’mon, snake, let’s rattle!”

And with that, he pranced joyfully into the underworld.

~

Nifty…

Elvis tapped a specialised tool against the hieroglyphics on the wall. They were mostly your standard fare- “death awaits those cretins who enter”, “do not desecrate this hallowed ground, wretched mortal”, “remember to feed the cats, honey, I know you always forget XO”- but this one was different.

“Don’t… dead… open… inside.” He read off. “Hmmm…”

He considered it, ignoring Nenet’s grunts as she tried to pull their bags through a narrow doorway.

“So,” he reasoned, “don’t die, and open whatever’s inside this door? Perfect!”

He pushed the door open and ran through, close to giggling with delight. Oh, this was so much fun! He really was an explorer!

“It's so nice to be a spoke in the wheel, one that helps to turn, not one that hinders!” he called out to Nenet. “Gertrude Bell, From the Mountains to the Sea!”

As his voice faded into the distance, Nenet finished pulling their bags through. If only the oaf hadn’t insisted on bringing a to-scale sundial!

With a frustrated groan, she turned to the doors, which were slowly swinging closed behind Elvis.

“Don’t open, dead inside.” She read.

She blinked.

“Hal-kuh. Mr. Elvis! Mr. Elvis, it’s dangerous!”

Damnit, the oaf was annoying but she couldn’t leave him to die! With a deep breath, she steeled herself, grabbed something from his pack, and ran after him.

~

The thing to realise about Elvis Presley’s Egyptology phase is that it was entirely inevitable. A life of screaming fans is really, really not all it’s hyped up to be.

When he’d started out performing, he could hardly bear it. Over the years, it had taken a toll- created a… sort of psychological switch in his head. 

So how would he react if, as he walked down a dusty passageway in the hopes of finding something exciting at the end, he heard Nenet screaming from behind him?

To put it simply, Elvis had a Pavlovian reaction.

To put it simpler, he was back in showman mode.

“Ooooh, sounds like somebody’s excited!” he boogied, sashaying his hips as he made his way towards the sound.

Nenet screamed again, louder this time.

“Somebody’s real excited, hoo boy! Hot diggity-dog, I can’t wait to see what’s causin’ this!”

Elvis swaggered around the corner, ready to put on a show for his fans, and happened upon a small nook with a sarcophagus propped up against the wall. It was shaking about, reminiscent of a fan that couldn’t keep still from excitement.

“Well, what do we have here!” he called out enthusiastically, unlatching the door of the sarcophagus and coming face to face with a mummy.

He really wasn’t equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Neither was the mummy, come to think of it. Point is- when faced with these extenuating circumstances, Elvis did the only thing he could think to do.

“Are ya a fan?” he asked.

The mummy screamed the scream of a thousand crows.

Elvis screamed with it.

Behind him, Nenet screamed once more. This time, Elvis recognised it for what it was- a battle cry- and moved out of the way.

She brought an ElvisTM Baseball Bat down upon the mummy’s head with so much force that it disintegrated into kindling. “Ah, shitty American products!”

Nenet dumped what was left of the bat onto the mummy, slammed the sarcophagus lid shut, grabbed Elvis by the wrist, and pulled him down the hallway.

“Hey!” he protested. “I brought that bat along for emotional support!”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” she responded, pausing at an intersection before pulling him roughly to the left. “We need to get out of here now- that thing won’t stop until it’s killed us both. I got the drop on it once- I doubt I’ll be that lucky again.”

“But-” before he could argue further, the screeching started again. The hallway felt like it stretched forever, and Elvis’ pulse quickened.

Nenet cast a panicked glance behind her. “It’s not slowing down. We’ll need to hold it off. When I get us back to our pack, take out that big sundial and throw it in its path, yes?”

Elvis, already out of breath, blinked.

“Now!” she flung him around a corner, and he found himself back in front of the door with the strange hieroglyphics.

After a second’s hesitation (and another scream from the mummy), his brain kicked in.

He scrambled to the pack, pulled the sundial out, and dragged it into the corridor. The mummy was about halfway down, running towards them at an alarming speed. Before it could scream, Elvis tossed the sundial like an Olympic Disk thrower.

It took both the mummy’s legs out, then shattered against the floor. Elvis winced- it had been pretty expensive. But then again, at least it had saved their lives.

The mummy got to its knees, screamed, and began crawling forwards.

“Ah.” Nenet’s face was unnaturally pale. “We’ll have to run again, Mr Elvis.”

Without waiting for confirmation, she turned. “And leave your pack behind!”

The mummy, moving considerably slower now, screamed once more. Elvis’ instincts kicked in again, but for once in his life he caught himself. He was an Egyptologist, for goodness sake! He needed to act like it!

He thought back to all the books on Egyptian explorers he’d read. All the mummies he’d seen in those new-fangled Universal Pictures. He recognised the scream, recognised the pain.

What would Gertrude Bell do? He wondered.

There is nothing more difficult to measure than the value of visible emotion, she’d say to him- as she had on page 42 of From the Mountains to the Sea.

As Nenet poked her head out from the doorway with the intention of demanding he hurry up, he moved towards the mummy.

“MR ELVIS- actually you know what, I tried.” Nenet shrugged, and made to leave.

“All these years…” Elvis realised, dropping to his knees and beckoning the mummy closer. “Trapped down here, all alone.”

The mummy hissed, holding its desiccated hands up to its eyes.

Nenet, who was ready to make a break for it any second now, watched in horror as her client ran a finger tenderly along the mummy’s jaw. “It’s alright.” he soothed.

With an awful, keening screech, the mummy threw itself into Elvis’ arms and did a decent approximation of a sob.

“There, there.” Elvis stroked the mummy’s head, rocking it back and forth. “We’re here for you now, aren’t we, Nenet?”

Nenet’s eyes widened as she realised what Elvis wanted her to do. “W-with all due respect, sir-”

“Group hug!” he growled merrily, reaching into the doorway and pulling her into an embrace alongside the mummy. After a moment’s hesitation, she patted the ancient creature on its head. “It’s… alright?” she asked.

It latched an arm around her and wept loudly.

~

They emerged from the tomb a trio- Nenet, carrying some assorted riches and other sundry, Elvis, and the mummy, being carried bridal style by the intrepid Egyptologist.

“I’m gonna take you back to the US of A!” Elvis promised the mummy. “And I’ll take ya to a baseball game and show ya that baseball bats ain’t all that bad! And you can tell me more about your culture and all! Don’t that sound fun?”

The mummy purred in approval. Nenet, who still hadn’t gotten over her client bonding with an eldritch horror from an ancient tomb, shaded her eyes against the setting sun. She had to admit, the ruby-encrusted bracelets really complemented her complexion.

“We will have to make camp tonight,” she said, “and by tomorrow I will get us to the nearest town. From there you can rent a jeep to get back to Cairo, Mr. Elvis. And company.”

Elvis nodded. “Miss Nenet, it’s been a pleasure working with ya so far. What’d ya say I take you on in a more… official capacity?”

Nenet wrinkled her nose. “Are you planning on adopting me?”

“Nah, I meant hire you as my guide for all future archaeological expeditions and the like!”

“Hmmm…” she considered it. “What’s your offer?”

He listed off a number. It had lots of zeroes.

“Done.”

The mummy stared out at the sunset… the first sunset it had seen in centuries. And for the first time in centuries… it felt at peace.

“To wake in that desert dawn was like waking in the heart of an opal. ... See the desert on a fine morning and die - if you can.” Elvis whispered reverentially, following the mummy’s gaze. “Gertrude Bell, The Desert and the Snow.”

Both Nenet and the mummy nodded. They stood there awhile, watching the sun dip below the horizon and inky shadows spread like water.

“Ya know…” Elvis mentioned. “I feel a song coming on.”

“Mr. Elvis, no.” Nenet deadpanned.

“Mr. Elvis, yes! Wiiiiise, meeeen, saaaaaaaaaaay… only fooooools…”

[rons-wheezely]

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him. 

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.” 

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is. 

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once. 

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…” 

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.” 

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile. 

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love. 

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films. 

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you. 

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?” 

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you. 

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

[yanderecandystore]

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

[havin-a-wee]

If Only She Knew

pairing: dad!harry x cheerleader!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (fingering + unprotected sex), cheerleading position implies readers weight, 20 year age gap

hi! ive been having some really bad writers block but i wrote this and even though its def not my best work i like it enough to post it :) also, i totally didn't mean to imply the readers weight, i only realized afterwards, so im really sorry about that. also the age gap is kinda big, so if ur uncomfy with that you shouldn't read this <3

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY

“Geez watch where you’re going!”

You don’t even look up at the girl, recognizing her nasally voice easily from how annoying it is. You were nose deep in a book while walking down the school hallway, and of course your worst enemy had to be walking down the same hallway, at the same time, in the opposite direction. You are both at fault for the collision, considering Ella had her eyes locked on her instagram feed. But knowing the girl, there is no way in hell that she will take any responsibility, even though you are the one who has coffee dripping down the front of your white blouse.

Since middle school, Ella Styles has always hated you. You have never known why, but she seems to have a vendetta against you, and tries her best to make your life miserable. You never let her, always refraining from giving her the explosive reaction that she was looking for. And that makes her hate you even more.

High school is over in 2 months, and although you are going to miss the freedom of being a child, you most definitely won’t miss the people from the tiny town you’ve lived in since you were young. You’ve always been the type of person to have a small friend group, only 4 people in your circle. But that’s how you like it, because crippling social anxiety makes it difficult for you to meet new people.

“I- sorry.” You still don’t look at her, instead peeling the soaking wet top off of your stomach.

“You better be sorry.” She flips her blonde hair, ensuring that the fluffy locks hit you right in the face. You are lucky this time seeing as she didn’t take it further, because sometimes she would purposely embarrass you after small incidents such as this one.

Tears well at your waterline and you run into the nearest bathroom, pushing open the blue door and locking yourself in a stall.

After all these years of torment, Ella rarely was able to get to you. But sometimes, she does something that pushes you off the edge, leaving you with red, tear-stained cheeks. The final straw this time was her ruining your brand new shirt, the one you were anxiously waiting to debut at school.

But now there was coffee dripping down your chest and staining the bright white fabric. Your only saving grace is the cheerleading uniform in your backpack. In fact, you were walking to the locker room to change for practice, and then for the game at 6 tonight.

You had been excited for the game, knowing that Friday night games always led to parties and fun afterwards. You rarely go to parties of course, but the buzzing energy never fails to rub off on you. But now that stupid Ella had to go and mess up your day, you’re dreading seeing her smug face while she asserts her dominance as cheer captain.

You untie your top and rip it off in a haste, frustrated tears running down your face periodically. You could’ve put a jacket on and gone to the locker room, but Ella would be going there soon, and the last thing you want to do is run into her with teary eyes. She can’t know that you let her get to you.

You brush your hands down your uniform, pulling down the skimpy costume and stuffing your old clothes in your backpack. Once out of the stall, you pull your hair up into a high ponytail, reapply your lip gloss and walk back into the hallway, having already done your makeup that morning. You’re happy that it’s a home game today, because the home game uniforms are two pieces and the skirts are smaller than the ones on the away game uniforms. There is a certain someone you are looking to impress, and the way your tits spill out from the top of the outfit will most certainly help you in your mission.

It’s not like you need to impress him, because he’s shown time and time again that he finds you sexy no matter what you wear. And when he doesn’t tell you, he shows you, by pressing his hard on up against your ass after you just woke up, despite your messy hair and bare face.

However, he also loves when you tease him. And that’s exactly what you’re planning to do.

You sling your heavy backpack over one shoulder and trudge down the hallway, the old fluorescent lights practically blinding you on your journey. The locker room is dingy, smelling of cheap soap and Victoria’s Secret perfume. At least it doesn’t smell like the boys locker room, which smells like sweat and more sweat.

It's already bustling with people, your teammates scrambling to get ready in time as to not get yelled at by the coach.

“Y/N!” The familiar shout of your best friend Rose is like a breath of fresh air, and you bound over to her. She’s standing in front of your lockers, the two of you obviously picking ones next to each other. “Wait, why are you already changed?”

“The bitch spilled her coffee all over me,” you grumbled, your eyes shifting over to where Ella and her little goons are giggling.

“I keep telling you, anytime you want me to beat her up I will gladly do it.”

“Not that I doubt your abilities Rose, because I know you would have her on the ground in a heartbeat, but I can’t let you do that. She can’t know that she upsets me.” You lower your voice for the second sentence, irrationally fearing that she can hear you over the loud chatter echoing through the room.

“I still think you should let me beat her up, but you do you I guess.” Rose shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her locker, bursting out into laughter with you after a beat of silence.

The rest of the getting ready process goes smoothly, Rose distracting you from the girl side-eyeing you in the corner. Soon enough, the whole squad was in formation outside, and you have your hands on the shoulders of Rose and another girl named Bethany. You are a flyer, meaning that you’re the one who the bases support while you pose and flip in the air. Its a hard job, but you are one of only three girls on the team who is advanced enough at flying to be safe doing it in routines. One of the other three girls is Ella.

Ella is the flyer for the middle group, seeing as she is the captain. You are on the right and the other group is on the left. Luckily, Rose is a base in your group, so you feel a lot better putting your safety in the hands of someone you already trust with your life.

“ELLA! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!” Coach Habbiths voice is piercing, her angry shrieks bouncing off your ear drums. Ella audibly huffs, displaying her frustration with the critiques she has been receiving since we learned the routine weeks ago. That’s one of the biggest problems with Ella, she believes that she's always right.

Every single practice she has done a needle instead of a scale at the end of the routine. It's aggravating for everyone, and that frustration is amplified everytime she makes the same mistake over and over. “Alright, everyone down. group 1 and group 3 take five, Ella and group 2 stay on the field.

The team obliged to her instructions, and you are brought down from the air.

“Okay Ella, I want you to watch how Y/N does the last move, because she’s actually doing it correctly.” Coach is standing in front of you now, and she emphasized the word ‘correctly’. This is much to Ella’s dismay, and much to your excitement.

Nothing brings you more joy than seeing Ella’s face when you one up her, and this time is no exception.

Aside from a few eye rolls and nasty looks, Ella corrects the move without much fuss. By now there's 15 minutes until the game, and the players have been warming up on the field for about half an hour.

“Did you see her face!” Rose tugs on your arm while you walk back to the locker room, water bottles in hand.

“I know! I should’ve taken a picture!”

“We can only hope that it knocked her ego down a peg.”

“I doubt it” Rose nodded in agreement and you continued your chatter, talking about the random things that best friends talk about.

“It’s go time ladies!” You jumped in surprise when Coach Habbiths yelling booms through the locker room, the hefty amount of metal in the room enhancing the echo.

In a blur, your entire team rushed out onto the field, the crisp air cooling your warmed skin. There was a huge crowd. probably the biggest the teams ever had. But that makes sense, because this game was against your school's biggest rival. Luckily, despite the huge crowd you were able to lock eyes with those piercing green irises you have gotten to know so well over the past couple months. Everytime you see him he gets more and more attractive, and this time is no exception.

At this point, the teams routine is muscle memory and you’re done with it before you can blink. Most people would think that being thrown in the air is memorable, but your main concern is the growing wet patch on your panties that spreads each time you squeeze your thighs together. Just the thought of the man is enough to turn you on, and now that you’re sitting on the cold metal bench your imagination has time to go wild.

The only thing that snapped you out of your daze was the eruption of appaulause from the audience, and the realization that the other cheerleaders were standing up and running towards the players. You breath out a sigh of relief, recognizing the cheering as a signal that the game has ended.

“Hey, you coming?” Rose tugs on your arm, looking down at you still on the bench.

“Um, actually I don’t feel so well, I think I’m going to go home.”

“I should’ve known. You know, one day you’re going to have to go to a party.” Rose places her hands on her hips, giving you a sarcastically annoyed stare.

“And today is not that day.” You grab your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, turning back to Rose for a second. “Have fun and be safe.”

“I always do.” Rose places a chaste kiss on your cheek before turning back to the gathering crowd on the turf.

Instead of heading to the sidewalk and walking home, you duck under the bleachers and walk down the gravel path, pushing open the fence that separates the field and the school. The contents of your backpack slosh around while you sway your hips as you walk. Finally, you make it to the back wall of the school, leaning your back against it and plopping your heavy backpack down by your feet.

And now you wait.

Much to your convenience, the wait this time isn’t long, only five minutes passing before you see the familiar man following the same path you did earlier.

He has a pair of brown slacks on, pressing against his waist courtesy of his black belt. A button up white shirt hides the tattoos on his stomach, but he's rolling up his sleeves as he walks over to you. He's walking with intention, hungry eyes zeroed in on you.

When he’s only steps away, you cheekily bite your lip and use your finger to push up your skirt a little bit more.

Your actions have the intended effect, his eyes blowing wide and hands grasping at your waist.

“Y’can’t do that.”

Before you have a chance to ask what he means, his lips collide with yours, his tongue slipping in only moments after the initial kiss. But as soon as he started, he pulls away.

“Y’can’t be teasing me on the field like tha’, had me hard next t’my friends.” His hand is on the wall above your head, and his other arm is wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest. He’s panting, and you are too.

“Sorry Mr. Styles,” you push your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the most innocent look possible. “Just wanted to wear it cause I know how much you like it.”

“Aw, my babygirl wore this f’me? Well I guess y’can be forgiven. Now let’s get t’my house before I fuck yeh right on this wall.” He places a soft kiss to your lips picking up your backpack from the floor and turning to the direction of his car.

“But it hurts!” He turns around again, giving you a sympathetic look and caressing your cheek. The rings on his fingers are cold, but you’re used to the feeling.

“I know sweet girl, but I can’t take care of yeh here, s’too risky.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of a solution to your not so little problem. “How bout I give y’my fingers in the car? Hows that sound hm?” You nod eagerly, pulling his hand down from your cheek and holding it. He takes the signal and begins walking to his car while you follow him.

You never planned to sleep with your bullies dad. But a few months ago your parents dragged you to a family friends housewarming party, and that friend happened to be a friend of Harry’s too. There were no other teenagers there, so your focus was on the attractive older man who had been checking you out since you first locked eyes, and after ending up in the upstairs bathroom together the two of you have been fucking at least twice a week. You only learned that he’s a dad when you saw him for the first time outside the party. He didn’t look the part, and you actually thought he was in his 20s until he corrected you. He’s 38, having become a parent at only 20 years old. Your relationship is a bit taboo, but you’re a mature 18 year old and you and Harry get along well. So well that your time together has developed from casual sex to a mutually exclusive relationship. (Neither of you like labels, but you’re basically boyfriend and girlfriend).

He makes you really happy, and when you have to face off against Ella, it helps knowing that you have power over her, even though she doesn’t know it.

“Did she do anything today?” Harry is walking beside you, hands still intertwined.

“Besides spilling coffee on my shirt, nothing much.” Harry sighs in frustration and squeezes your hand as a show of affection.

“M’so sorry, I wish y’didn’t ‘ave to deal with her.”

The thing about Harry and Ella is they can barely be considered family. Ella’s mom is, for lack of a better word, a bitch. She’s snobby, conceited, and rude, and those behaviors have rubbed off on Ella. Another thing that rubbed off on her was her mom’s hatred for Harry. Being young parents put strain on their already struggling relationship, and they split before Ella’s first birthday. Harry said he tried his best to make it work for Ella’s sake, but her mom was looking for someone to pay for her life, and Harry had just started working his way up as a businessman.

Now, he’s a CEO, but luckily Ella’s mom already found a new beau with plenty of money, so she didn’t come crawling back to him. However, the success Harry achieved only a few years after their breakup made her jealous, and so she instilled that anger in their daughter. So currently Ella spends most of her time with her mother, and when she is with Harry she doesn’t treat him kindly.

“It’s not your fault Harry, you don’t have to apologize for her actions.”

“I know, I jus’ hate tha’ she treats yeh like that.” He sighs again, reaching into his pocket to grab his keys. In a few more steps you’re standing outside the sleek black suv, walking around to the passenger seat and sliding in once you hear the click of the door unlocking.

You both take a few seconds to breathe, an unspoken gesture to prepare for the night's events. Harry turns to you, a sexy smirk plastered on his face. “What d’ya think about fixin’ that ache darlin?” You nod eagerly, sliding down a bit in your seat to give your legs room to spread. “Think yeh can take off y’skirt fo’me?” Your head bobs once again as you nod, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband and shimmying out of the skirt. While you’re doing that, Harry turns the car into the deserted street, using only one hand to steer.

You toss the tiny skirt into his lap, giving him a signal without distracting his eyes from the road. He reacts immediately, his free hand coming down to squeeze your thigh. You mewl at the contact and bite down on your lip, trying to stop your hips from bucking up in search of relief. His squeezes move up your thigh, and finally his fingers press against your weeping cunt. Swiftly, he pushes your soiled panties to the side, swiping his fingers up your folds collecting your juices. You shriek and buck your hips up into his hand, but much to your dismay he removes it from between your thighs. The car comes to a stop at a red light, and Harry takes the moment to look at you, his eyes wandering your squirming body. He’s practically drooling when he places his fingers in his mouth, tasting your sweet wetness.

“Sorry pup, jus’ needed t’taste yeh.” He chuckles again, and you whine softly in desperation. In one quick motion, he dives his hand back to your pussy, pressing his thumb on your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” The pleasure shoots up your spine, goosebumps raising across your body as he rubs circles on the puffy button. “Harry- please,”

“What d’ya want puppy? Want m’fingers?”

“Yes, yes,” you breathe out, words barely comprehensible through your panting.

“Alright, alright, I gotcha.” And with that his two fingers press into you, filling your tight hole perfectly. There is no hesitation before he begins pumping the digits in and out of you and his thumb never lets up on your bundle of nerves. “Such a needy puppy, got yeh soaking f’me from out in the stands hm?” His eyes are still on the road, but you can picture the lust filled eyes that are undoubtedly on his face.

“Get so wet jus- just thinkin’ about you,” you gasp, writhing as his fingers slam in and out of you.

“Yeah? This is my cunt, m’the only one who can make yeh this wet, isn’t tha’ right?”

“Only Harry.” At your confirmation he speeds his hand up, your vision clouding with white spots as the knot building in your stomach grows tighter and tighter.

All of a sudden, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. “Wha-” You begin to question him but you realize that he’s pulling into his driveway. Instead of complaining, you sit up quickly and unbuckle your seatbelt, pulling your skirt back up your legs to avoid being nude on his front lawn.

As soon as you feel the little jolt your hand yanks on the handle and you hop out of the car. Your brain is fuzzy with need and all you are focused on is alleviating the aching between your thighs. You hear Harry lock the car while you're on the steps, and you turn back to ensure that he’s behind you. And sure enough, he’s hot on your trail, just as eager as you to get inside and onto his bed. Your foot is tapping on the ground anxiously, waiting for Harry to unlock the front door. After what seems like an hour, he is next to you again, fumbling with the silver keychain in his hand, eventually unlocking and pushing open the door. You both practically run inside, hands roaming each other's bodies and lips locking as you shuffle through the hall.

You disconnect breathlessly when you reach the stairs, subconsciously wrapping your hands around Harry’s neck so he can pick you up bridal style. He does so hastily, barely a second passing before he’s plopping you onto the fluffy mattress. “Finally,” he pants, hands fumbling with his belt buckle. There’s a prominent bulge in his trousers, and although you’ve seen it plenty, you are always in awe at how thick and big he is. While he’s busy removing his clothes, you are practically drooling at the sight of his bare cock, full, heavy, and dripping precome.

“Harry?”

He looks back down at you with his emerald green eyes, simultaneously dropping his recently-removed shirt on the floor. “Can I ride you?” The look he gives you is indescribable, a mixture of need, lust, cockiness, and beauty all rolled up into one.

“Whatever y’want puppy,” His hands scoop under your ass, and he lifts you up and switches your positions. Now it’s your turn to undress, and Harry makes himself busy by running his hands up and down your torso. “So gorgeous, y’know that?” You nod quickly then pull your shirt off of your head. “Most beautiful girl in the world I reckon.” You blush at the compliment, butterflies being added to the many sensations occuring in your body. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your hand around his length and tugging a few times. A loud groan rumbles through his throat, and you smile knowing you’re the one who made him feel like that. “Thought- thought yeh said y’wanted to ride me pup.”

“I do.” You keep your hand on his cock, sitting up on your knees and lining him up with your weeping cunt. All at once, your body is put at ease as his cock fills you up perfectly. He bottoms out inside of you, both of you moaning and groaning while you adjust. “So big-” Your words come out in choppy pants, the syllables being cut off by your heaves. You suck in one deep breath and move upwards, sinking back down onto him quickly. His large hands hold a tight grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his member. His lips attach to your neck, suckling on the supple skin just enough so that it doesn’t bruise.

“What a dirty little puppy you are,” he growls, eyes focusing heavily on where your bodies connect, watching himself disappear inside of you as you bounce up and down on his cock.

“Feel so full-” Tingles ricochet down every part of your body, and your legs are becoming weaker with each movement. Harry can feel your movement faltering, so his hips thrust upwards to meet yours, fucking you from underneath. “Harry!”

“I know pup, I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek and he leans in for another kiss, devouring your plump lips and swirling his tongue around yours. “So fuckin tight,” The words tumble from his mouth in a low growl, which sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. His cock twitches inside of you, encouraging you to muster all your energy and finish both of you off. Adrenaline kicks in and your strength returns, riding him faster and harder than before. “Let go f’me Y/N.” It only takes a few more thrusts for you to come undone, Harry’s orgasm following suit. The waves of pleasure roll through your body, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you allow the feeling to overcome your body. Spurts of his hot cum cover your velvety walls and you ride out your orgasms together, resting your foreheads against one another.

You end up sleeping at his house, feeling safe knowing that Ella is staying with her mom today. It’s normal for you to sleep at his place, seeing as both of you are usually so tired that you pass out before you can leave. What isn’t normal is for you to be woken up in the morning by Harry’s phone ringing. Harry is a deep sleeper, and you laugh at the sight of him conked out while his ringtone blares on the nightstand just a few inches away. Carefully, you reach over his sleeping body and grab the phone, planning on hanging it up and going back to bed. However, when you saw that it was Ella calling, you changed your mind. Making a split second decision, you slide the icon to the right, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?” Her whiney voice rings through your eardrum and you wince. Not the nicest thing to be woken up to.

“Hello,” you answer, your voice not reflecting the cocky grin that spread across your face.

“Who the hell is this!” she shrieks, and you make a mental note that she must not be a morning person.

“A friend of your dads.” Your response is once again calm and monotone, trying to stifle the laugh that is bubbling in your throat.

“Ugh! What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

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It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

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| Part Five |