#i was just so shocked i managed to get them? and it was so easy?

[thepoisonroom]

i spent months of my life selling books and all i got was this stupid encyclopedic knowledge of seemingly innocuous titles that cryptofascists cream themselves over

[nightbeforethend]

how would each member of xdinary heroes react when you pick them up from a bar/restaurant and their drunk asf.

I imagine hanjun being quiet and reserved about pda sober but a drop of alcohol in him he becomes a koala, clinging to you and just giggling away

☆*･ﾟdrunk // xdinary heroes ﾟ･*☆

a/n: thank you for this request! I truly had way too much fun working on it and I hope you enjoy anon!

warning(s): drinking/drunk behaviors

want to request something? check this out

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> gunil <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ absolutely shocked by the baddie he managed to pull by being a dork and having a funny laugh all the time but especially when he’s drunk

*ೃ༄ knows you’re coming to meet him and the guys at a restaurant after you leave another outing but he’s still stunned into silence when you walk in

*ೃ༄ granted he’s drunk out of his mind but still

*ೃ༄ the type to say some shit like “that’s mine right there” with a cocky smile on his face when he sees you walk into the restaurant like his red cheeks and ears aren’t giving away that he’s flustered and absolutely blasted

*ೃ༄ realizes once you don’t take the seat next to him that you’re there to pick him up now instead of hanging out

*ೃ༄ insists he’s fine just to convince you to stay when he knows damn well that he’s a drink and a half away from yacking all over the table

*ೃ༄ a bit stubborn just because he likes you babying him more than he’s willing to admit when he’s sober but it doesn’t take too much convincing to get him out of his seat and to your car

*ೃ༄ (silently a bit upset that jungsu and o.de carry him there for you like he doesn’t go to the gym almsot everyday. truly expects you to give him a piggy back ride like he doesn’t have one of the craziest sleeper builds known to man, god bless)

*ೃ༄ 9/10 experience overall

*ೃ༄ a pretty easy experience regardless of him yapping just to yap the entire way home

*ೃ༄ 7.5/10 depending on whether or not you having to stop the car a couple times so he could indeed yack on the side of the rode would get on your nerves or not

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> jungsu <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ I truly don’t think that he’d be that bad

*ೃ༄ like at all

*ೃ༄ maybe a giggly drunk, red as hell from drinking entirely too much but he doesn’t give difficult drunk energy

*ೃ༄ except for the stubbornness that could come with it

*ೃ༄ my first thought is that one picture of jeonghan from seventeen having to get on his knees and beg dino to get in the taxi so they could get his drunk ass home

*ೃ༄ literally this

*ೃ༄ like he’s perfectly fine with leaving with you and he doesn’t even have a problem leaving the guys and following you to your car but the moment you go to open the passenger door for him his mouth falls open in shock because how dare you open the door for him when he can do it himself??

*ೃ༄ it’s enough to make him refuse to get in the car which is crazy because up until this point he’d been acting so normal that you thought the guys might’ve been joking about how much he had to drink

*ೃ༄ the easy solution should’ve been you closing the door and him opening it himself but of course it’s not that easy

*ೃ༄ you close the door? He opens it again. You try to guide him inside? Now he’s a statue. You threaten to leave him there? Suddenly, he’s a lawyer with a five-minute argument on why that would be a human rights violation

*ೃ༄ has the most crazy pout you’ve ever seen on his face when you finally get him in the car because he thinks you’re “manhandling” him (you barely even touched him, he just low key doesn’t even know how his own legs got him outside at this point, better yet how you got him in the car)

*ೃ༄ actually sits in silence for a solid three minutes after you start driving, only to suddenly hit you with a quiet “I could’ve driven” followed by the nastiest side eye you’ve ever seen from him

*ೃ༄ absolutely will not let go of your hand on the way home though because he’s not about to lose out on a little physical affection even in the midst of his little drunk attitude

*ೃ༄ 6/10 experience because why the hell do you have to fight him from the time you picked him up to the time you got him in bed??

*ೃ༄ quickly becomes a 8.2/10 the next morning because he makes you breakfast and coffee the next morning despite his hangover simply because he feels bad

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> gaon/jiseok <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ huge believer in him being such a normal drunk human being. Like he’s still mostly sweet and harmless, but suddenly his fight-or-flight kicks in at the worst possible times

*ೃ༄ because when you show up to take him home, he does NOT recognize you

*ೃ༄ like at all

*ೃ༄ he’s squinting, tilting his head, looking you up and down like you’re some stranger trying to seduce him away from his very real, very loving partner (who is literally you even though he won’t believe you or anyone else trying to convince him of the fact)

*ೃ༄ keeps repeating “sorry, I’m in a relationship” in the nicest way possible because he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone’s feelings but the fact that someone that could be your doppelgänger is trying to take him home is freaking him out so bad

*ೃ༄ you think he’s joking until he’s literally running away from you every time you physically try to get him to leave

*ೃ༄ why he thinks his loyalty is being tested is beyond you but having to chase this grown man through a crowded bar has you about ready to tell security that he’s causing a scene just to have someone else easily drag him outside

*ೃ༄ "Jiseok, get in the car!"

*ೃ༄ "I told you I’m in a relationship you freak” is his only response at this point and he means that shit

*ೃ༄ something finally clicks in his brain and makes him call you for some kind of help since his equally drunk friends weren’t helping and he’s beyond flabbergasted when he hears your phone start to ring in your purse

*ೃ༄ cue the slowest realization in human history

*ೃ༄ you can literally see the cogs in his brain starting back up

*ೃ༄ “Ohhh... that’s why you’re so pretty...”

*ೃ༄ absolutely devastated by his own actions immediately after

ೃ༄ like the 180 he pulls when he finally gets into the car and pouts the whole way home actually needs to be studied

*ೃ༄ 5/10 experience overall, only because of the chase

*ೃ༄ 7.5/10 if you found it funny

*ೃ༄ 9/10 if you got it on video to use against him later

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> o.de/seungmin <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ down atrociously bad for you in a very visual way while he’s sober just to act like the shyest, most love struck teenager that’s ever existed the moment he gets a drop of alcohol in him

*ೃ༄ like on a normal bases he’s not afraid to leave kisses all over your face as he’s calling you the love of his life in fifty different ways whether people are around or not

*ೃ༄ but the moment you approach him at the bar he’s avoiding eye contact like he barely knows you

*ೃ༄ crazy work for someone who called you himself three separate times to ask you to pick him up because he wanted to, in his own words, “cuddle you until you both became a single being like you’re two crystal gems in Steven Universe” but alas

*ೃ༄ he truly can’t bring himself to even hold your hand for longer than a few seconds at a time when you try to pull him out of the building and to your car

*ೃ༄ he’s redder than you’ve ever seen him because for some reason the alcohol has made him hyper aware to being perceived by others; especially the friends he’s been smooching you in front of way too much now for him to be this embarrassed

*ೃ༄ can stumble his way to your car on his own and literally doesn’t say a word until you’re both inside and he feels like you’re alone

*ೃ༄ literally sighs like he’s been holding in the world’s biggest secret as you pull away from the bar, immediately trying to bury his face in your neckline you stop at a light

*ೃ༄ “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to finally touch you… so many people around… do you think they noticed we’re a thing?

*ೃ༄ “you mean the friends you’ve kissed me on the mouth in front of on several occasions?? I think they know”

*ೃ༄ clings onto you like a koala bear the whole rest of the way home like he’s making up for the few minutes that he wasn’t all over you

*ೃ༄ 9.5/10 experience simply because witnessing what he’d be like if he ever cared about being perceived is extremely cute

*ೃ༄ half a point off because the energy he brings to the table while being uncharacteristically shy is a bit alarming

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> junhan/hyeongjun <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ The liquid courage that would run through this man after a night out needs to be studied

*ೃ༄ He gives the same drunk energy as me I fear (can drink like 5 cocktails, 6 shots, and two beers and there’s no personality difference outside of being extremely affectionate)

*ೃ༄ Like he’s fine, everything’s fine, he’s drunk as hell but he’s not a runner or an intoxicated mess so he’s truly just chilling when he suddenly remembers he has a partner that he NEEDS to be touching right now or he might die

*ೃ༄ and while he doesn’t look as fucked up as he is on the outside, he’s cancelling the uber he got to take him home and calling you to ask you to join them

*ೃ༄ you think he’s joking until gunil calls you to tell you that he’s indeed planted himself on the ground outside the club, sitting criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to get there

*ೃ༄ like he’s not even making a fuss or saying anything crazy

*ೃ༄ he just refuses to leave until he gets a kiss from you (you literally live together but alcohol will fuck up his logic and reasoning every time)

*ೃ༄ when you show up to pick him up he’s literally all over you before you can even speak

*ೃ༄ I’m talking arms wrapped around you so tight you can barely breathe, kissing every inch of your face he can reach, lifting you off your feet just so he can spin you around type of touchy

*ೃ༄ not only does it spook the guys (who have never EVER seen him be this touchy with anyone) but also you, who had gotten used to never EVER doing more than holding hands in public

*ೃ༄ very willing to get in the car and go home after he’s gotten what he wanted

*ೃ༄ 8.8/10 experience only because you now have to deal with his homies making kissing noises at the two of you whenever they see you

(`·.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.-> jooyeon <-.¸¸.·´`·.¸¸.·´)

*ೃ༄ I fear he’s a runner

*ೃ༄ like the type to disappear, reappear while talking, reappear across the bar, and then by time you get to him he’s gone again

*ೃ༄ although he can’t sit still to save his life he’s surprisingly quiet

*ೃ༄ so you’re not shocked at all when you show up to the bar and spot Jooyeon alone on the patio with whatever pretty drink the bartender suggested and none of the other guys in sight

*ೃ༄ spots you coming and his eyes light up like he didn’t just see you right before he left earlier to go to the bar

*ೃ༄ not a drunk man of many words (surprisingly, considering that he’s one of the biggest sober yappers you know)

*ೃ༄ “took you long enough to get here” headass

*ೃ༄ literally chugs the rest of his drink, throws his arms around you, and you’re now stuck with him clinging onto you for the rest of the night

*ೃ༄ the yapping might go away temporarily but I fear the clinginess is forever

*ೃ༄ the actual pickup itself isn’t the hard part whatsoever once you get him to situate himself in one place

*ೃ༄ it’s after the car ride you’re concerned about, and rightfully so

*ೃ༄ 5.5/10 experience ONLY BECAUSE although I don’t see him being an insane drunk, he’d fall asleep the moment he heard the hum of the engine but now you have over a hundred pounds of dead weight to get upstairs to your apartment once you get home

[the-reader-insert-gazette]

By Accident, By Choice (Valentines Special) - F!Reader x Childe/Tartaglia

Featured Column - Genshin Impact

A moment of quick thinking left Childe and Reader stuck in an accidental relationship. But as Valentine’s Day approaches, the line between pretend and real faded away.

✒️ Word Count: 2192

[Name] hated tight deadlines.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle them—if anything, she worked best under pressure, but there was a specific kind of hell reserved for when things spiraled completely out of her control.

Like now.

She braced herself against the counter of the tea shop, exhaling slowly as the woman across from her tapped her long, lacquered nails against a porcelain cup.

“I don’t see why there’s an issue,” Madam Ru, one of Liyue’s more particular socialites, said smoothly. “I was very clear about my order.”

“Yes, but—” [Name] swallowed back the rising frustration. “You changed the engraving at the last minute, and it takes time to rework that.”

The order in question? A jade-inlaid pendant, meant to be gifted at a banquet tonight. [Name] had worked on it for a week straight, only for Madam Ru to suddenly decide that the inscription needed to be inlaid with gold instead of silver.

“Surely a skilled artisan like yourself can manage something so small,” Madam Ru said, taking a slow sip of her tea.

[Name] gritted her teeth. “I can have it ready by tomorrow.”

“That won’t do,” Madam Ru sighed. “I’ll have to take my business elsewhere if you can’t fulfill such a simple request.”

It wasn’t just the loss of business—it was the stain on her reputation.

[Name] knew how quickly word spread. If Madam Ru walked away unsatisfied, it could cost her future commissions.

She was trying to think of a way to salvage the situation when a voice cut in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.”

[Name] startled as an arm draped over her shoulders, pulling her into an easy, casual lean. The scent of fresh water and something metallic hit her before she looked up and saw him.

Childe.

[Name] had met him weeks ago when he’d stumbled into her shop, looking to commission something for his little brother. At first, she’d assumed he was just another wandering merchant, but it didn’t take long to realize he had ties to the Fatui—dangerous ones.

That said, he’d always been good to her. Honest, in a way most customers weren’t.

Now, though, he was smiling down at her with the kind of lazy charm that sent alarms ringing in her head. She had no idea what he was doing, but she wasn’t about to call his bluff in front of Madam Ru.

Childe turned his attention to the noblewoman with easy confidence. “Apologies, Madam. I know my girl’s a perfectionist, but I did tell her to stop taking last-minute changes. You know, work-life balance and all.”

[Name] barely contained her shock.

My girl?

Madam Ru blinked, thrown off for just a moment. “You—?”

“I’d hate for you to be unhappy with her work, though,” Childe continued smoothly. “Tell you what. I know another artisan in Fontaine who could get you a similar piece next week. I can put in a good word.”

Madam Ru hesitated. The implication was clear—wait longer or settle for [Name]'s timeline.

She pursed her lips. “Tomorrow, then.”

[Name] exhaled as the noblewoman huffed and left. Only then did she shove Childe’s arm off her shoulders.

“What the hell was that?” she hissed.

Childe laughed, unbothered. “Helping you out.”

“You pretended to be my partner.”

He shrugged. “Seemed like it worked.”

[Name] wanted to be mad. Should be mad. But the truth was, he had pulled her out of a tight spot.

“…I owe you one,” she muttered.

Childe grinned. “Dinner. Tonight.”

[Name] blinked. “What?”

“You owe me, right?” He leaned in slightly, smirk widening. “Dinner.”

It wasn’t a bad deal. She would have had to eat at some point, and it was better than paying him in mora.

“…Fine,” she said. “But I pick the place.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

She should have known it wouldn’t stop at just one dinner.

It became a thing.

Whenever [Name] found herself cornered by difficult clients or pushy merchants, Childe somehow managed to swoop in, slinging an arm around her shoulders, flashing that sharp grin, and making it very clear that she wasn’t alone.

She knew she should have shut it down.

But it was just easier to let it happen.

And maybe, if she was being honest, she didn’t hate it.

Which was probably why she froze when Zhongli, ever perceptive, looked up from his tea and said, “You seem well-adjusted to one another.”

[Name] frowned, setting down her cup. “What?”

Zhongli regarded her with quiet amusement. “You and Childe. It is rare to see you apart these days.”

“We’re not—”

“Finally figured it out?”

[Name] turned and glared as Childe slid into the seat next to her, looking far too smug.

Zhongli tilted his head. “Ah. I see.”

[Name] scowled. “There’s nothing to ‘see.’”

Childe sighed dramatically. “I keep telling her, but she refuses to listen.”

“Because we’re not dating,” [Name] snapped.

Childe just raised an eyebrow. “Then what have we been doing all this time?”

[Name] opened her mouth—then closed it.

Because… what had they been doing?

The dinners. The teasing. The touches.

Zhongli sipped his tea, clearly entertained. “I believe this is what one might call ‘a realization in real-time.’”

[Name] swallowed.

“Oh,” she muttered.

Childe was still watching her, patient but expectant, waiting for something she wasn’t sure she could give.

[Name] exhaled slowly.

“You didn’t ask,” she muttered.

“Would you have said no?”

[Name] hesitated.

Childe just smiled, like he already knew the answer.

“Well,” he said, reaching over and stealing a dumpling from her plate, far too comfortable for someone who had just upended her entire reality, “it’s a little late for take-backs, sweetheart.”

[Name] groaned, shoving his hand away before he could grab another dumpling. “Unbelievable.”

Childe only grinned, chewing like he hadn’t just declared them a couple without so much as a warning. Zhongli, still perfectly composed, sipped his tea with the kind of measured patience that suggested he had no intention of intervening.

“If it makes you feel better,” Childe said, “I’ve been a great partner. Top-tier, really.”

[Name] shot him a flat look. “You’re not my partner.”

Childe shrugged. “Tell that to the rest of Liyue.”

[Name] felt something cold settle in her gut. “What do you mean?”

“Just that everyone already thinks we’re together,” he said breezily. “Figured you knew, what with how often we’re seen around town.”

[Name] opened her mouth, then shut it. Because, now that he mentioned it...

Vendors had started giving her knowing smiles whenever Childe showed up at her shop. Madame Ping had offhandedly mentioned how “sweet young love” was when they passed her in the marketplace. Even her usual jeweler’s suppliers had made comments about how nice it was to see her settling down.

And she’d been so busy, so caught up in orders and commissions, that she hadn’t thought twice about it.

[Name] rubbed a hand down her face.

“So what you’re telling me,” she said slowly, “is that I’ve been accidentally dating you this entire time.”

Childe snorted. “Yeah, kinda.”

Zhongli chuckled. “You do make quite the pair.”

[Name] glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

“I do not believe you require assistance.” Zhongli set his teacup down, his amber eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “Merely time to process your feelings.”

Feelings.

[Name] bristled. “I don’t have feelings.”

Childe smirked. “That’s what someone with feelings would say.”

[Name] kicked him under the table.

After that conversation, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Every interaction—every casual touch, every laugh shared over hot meals, every time he leaned in just a little too close—felt different. Like the illusion had cracked, revealing something she wasn’t sure how to handle.

And then, to make things worse, Valentine’s Day was looming just around the corner.

Liyue Harbor was already filling with decorations—silk banners in soft reds and pinks, heart-shaped lanterns lining the streets, couples walking hand-in-hand through the marketplace. It was impossible to ignore.

And it didn’t help that every single person [Name] spoke to assumed she and Childe had plans.

“So what do you have in mind?” Yanfei asked one afternoon, while [Name] was setting up a new jewelry display.

[Name] frowned. “For what?”

Yanfei blinked. “For Valentine’s Day. You are doing something with Childe, right?”

[Name] nearly knocked over a tray of silver chains. “Why would you think that?”

Yanfei laughed. “Because I have eyes? I mean, if you’re not together, then he’s doing a pretty bad job of hiding how much he likes you.”

[Name] groaned. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Yanfei smirked. “Just admit you like him back.”

“I—”

[Name] couldn’t finish the sentence.

Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure how to answer.

It had been so easy, so natural to let things play out. But now that she was being forced to acknowledge it, everything felt too real.

Yanfei was watching her, waiting.

[Name] exhaled. “I’ll think about it.”

Yanfei grinned. “That’s lawyer-speak for ‘I already know the answer but I’m stalling.’”

[Name] threw a polishing cloth at her face.

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, [Name] had made zero plans.

Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone knocked on her shop’s door just as she was closing up.

She turned, fully prepared to tell whatever lovesick fool that no, she did not sell last-minute romantic gifts, only to freeze when she saw Childe.

He stood there, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, looking more uncertain than she had ever seen him.

“Hey,” he said.

[Name] folded her arms. “Hey.”

She watched him carefully. Childe had always been a smooth talker—reckless, brash, and too damn confident for his own good. But tonight, he stood in her doorway like he was nervous.

That alone concerned her.

“…What’s with the face?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Childe huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “What face?”

“The one that makes it look like you’re about to say something really dumb.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, if I say it, does that make me dumb, or just brave?”

“Depends on what it is.”

For the first time since she’d met him, Childe hesitated. Not out of strategy, not because he was waiting for the right moment to strike, but because whatever he was about to say actually mattered to him.

He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “Alright. Here goes.”

He looked at her then—really looked at her.

“I know I’ve been screwing with you for weeks now about the whole dating thing,” he started. “And, I mean, I stand by it. It does kinda feel like we’ve been dating this whole time.”

[Name] rolled her eyes. “You’re not wrong—”

“But,” he cut in, eyes steady, “I want it to be real.”

[Name] blinked.

“…What?”

Childe let out a breathless chuckle, like he couldn’t believe he was saying this out loud. “I want to actually take you out. Properly. No pretending, no accidents, no running interference for each other at fancy events. Just… you and me.”

[Name] stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” he said, rocking on his heels. “And, uh—” He cleared his throat. “Since it is Valentine’s Day, I figured I’d start with the obvious.”

He pulled something from his pocket—a small, neatly wrapped box, tied with a thin red ribbon.

[Name] eyed it warily. “If this explodes, I’m killing you.”

Childe snorted. “It’s a gift, [Name]. Not a trap.”

She took the box carefully, undoing the ribbon and lifting the lid.

Inside sat a small, delicate bracelet—thin links with a single charm attached. But the charm wasn’t some gaudy, over-the-top declaration of romance.

It was a tiny carved flower, the same kind she often decorated her shop with whenever they're available.

[Name] inhaled sharply.

Childe rubbed the back of his neck. “Figured you wouldn’t want anything too flashy.”

[Name]'s fingers brushed over the charm, feeling the smooth edges.

“You had this made?”

Childe shrugged. “I might’ve put in an order a while ago. Just in case.”

[Name] stared at him, something warm curling in her chest.

She should’ve seen this coming. Childe wasn’t the kind of guy to half-ass things. If he was going to make a move, he was going to do it right the first time.

Damn him, this was actually kind of sweet.

[Name] turned the bracelet over in her hands, running her thumb over the charm again.

Then she looked up at him.

“So,” Childe said, giving her a lopsided grin. “What do you say? Be my Valentine?”

[Name] exhaled through her nose.

She could make him work for it. She should make him work for it. But the truth was, she’d already made her decision.

[Name] smirked, stepping closer. “Alright.”

Childe’s grin faltered slightly. “Wait, 'alright'?”

“Alright,” she repeated, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

For a moment, Childe just stood there, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Then his grin broke out, soft around the edges, filled with a relief he hadn’t even been trying to hide.

“Well, damn,” he murmured, squeezing her hand back. “Guess I lucked out, huh?”

[Name] chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Editor's Note: A dear reader asked me to include word counts, consider your wish granted! Note, I'm still working on the formatting I want to continue with. Should there be more recommendations, feel free to let me know.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

i show up to the party just to leave

tw: angst, unrequited feelings, dubcon, asshole behavior, degradation, dacryphilia, y/n isn't a great person, neither is anyone else.

a/n: part 2 of seems like the life i need is a little distant. this has been sitting in the google docs since dec 2021....i really hope i haven't already posted this :[ also guys it's been a while, so if i have to add some tw's or whatnot let me know...achieved unc status i fear

: : :

The sheets still smell like him. Sharp notes of mint and sage and the ever-present smell of nicotine that seemed to cling to his body.

You had cried yourself to sleep last night. After Eren had essentially just fucked you and left. All you want to do is stay in bed and curl up in a shell.

But alas, there’s class to attend. And Plan B to buy since the dark-haired boy had insisted on cumming inside of you.

It’s not like he usually slept over so you have no reason to be so dramatic. It’s not like last night was the first booty call, and he’s always been one for degradation in bed. And you especially don’t mind being called a slut if he’s calling you his slut.

But you feel used. Disposable. Like the cigarettes, he crushes under his heel after ashing them out.

You roll over and check your phone, and the screen is filled with messages along the lines of:

Good morning.

I’m at the cafe, just picking up some breakfast. What drink do you want?

Got you a chai latte because that’s what you usually get. And a blueberry scone.

Don’t be late to anthro!

The messages make you smile. Colt Grice is sweet. Tooth-rotting sweet. You look over at the clock by your bedside. If you leave within 15 minutes, you’ll have enough to grab what you need from the pharmacy while making it to class on time.

“You made it! I was sure you wouldn’t.” There’s an easy smile on the blond’s face, beaming and bright. You dramatically sigh, “Praying on my downfall, huh?”

He hands you the brown bakery bag, “Never that.”

You sink into the chair, letting out a sigh. You hadn’t done the reading, and there was a long homework assignment due tonight.

“I emailed the reflection to you.”

You whip your head in surprise, “You did what?”

He shrugs, “I figured it’d help.”

“No, I mean, I know it will. Thank you.” And softer, “But you didn’t have to.”

His hazel eyes meet yours, “You seem tired lately. I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

You wonder if tired is a code word for awful. You look awful right now, dressed in a college sweater with faded letters and a dark stain you’ve never quite managed to get rid of, and sweatpants you haphazardly threw on.

You flick his forehead, “Mean anything by that? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to say a woman looks tired?” Your expression is deadpan but there’s a teasing lilt in your voice that’s specially reserved for him.

The tips of his ears burn red, “What? No, I didn’t say that. You look great. You...a-always look great.” His response makes you grin, and you break half of the scone to offer to him. He waves his hand away, “No, that’s for you.”

He watches as you lick the crumbs off your lips, “Suit yourself.”

You’re walking back from class, side by side with Colt, hands doing an awkward dance as pinkies nearly touch. As the distance seems to close, someone nearly ambushes you as they place their large arms over your and Colt’s shoulders. The blond himself nearly jumps in shock.

“Reiner.” Colt groans, “You have to stop jumping on us like this.”

“Why?” The spiky-haired jock chuckles, “Can’t handle a little-”

“You could have hurt her.”

You roll your eyes, waving his worries away, “I’m fine. What’s up, Reiner?”

“Just was just gonna ask you if you’re coming to Zeke’s party Saturday, Colt.”

Colt wrinkles his nose as if he heard something distasteful, “The one he’s hosting at Liberio? No thanks.”

The taller blond growls at his friend, “Out of everyone, you should really come. Think of everything he’s done for you.”

You place a hand on Reiner’s shoulder, “You know...I could probably get him to come.” You wink before placing a thoughtful finger on your lips, “But I’d have to be invited right? I don’t really know Zeke…”

But you’ve always wanted to go to Liberio, the hottest nightclub in the city, wildly exclusive and glitzy.

Reiner smiles at you, flirtatious eyes zeroing in on your suggestive demeanor, “Yeah, of course, you can come. You can be Colt’s plus one,” You sigh in relief, but don’t anticipate the sneer on his face, “...Or you can be Eren’s. You’re pretty close right?”

Your blood runs ice cold, and there’s surprise written all over your face. There’s no comeback at the tip of your tongue but thankfully your best friend has always been quite perspective.

“Okay, Reiner. Thanks for the reminder. We’ve really gotta go now.” He cuts the conversation short and drags you away to a bench under the shadow of a large tree. You sit, but he stands over you like a disappointed parent.

But here’s the primetime for an awkward conversation.

“You’re close to Eren? I didn’t even know that you knew him.”

You bit your already chapped lips, a habit that the hazel-eyed boy wishes you’d quit. He fishes his pocket for the vanilla chapstick and wordlessly hands it to you.

“We’re just friends.” You grumble under your breath.

He sighs, and you hate that he’s making you feel so guilty. What do you even have to feel so guilty for?

Taking a deep breath, he starts what sounds strikingly similar to a lecture, “Eren Yeager is not a good guy, I’ve told you this before, right-”

“You literally have no right to scold me like this when you’re practically besties with fucking Reiner. And fuck, Zeke? Zeke?-”

The tall blond takes a seat next to you, watching as you rub the salve over your bitten lips, “It’s complicated,” He sighs again, a sound you’re getting tired of, “I’ve just known them for a very long time. And our families-”

A heartbeat. Both of you watch the leaves fall.

“--Shit.” It’s rare for him to curse.

“Colt.” You say.

“I’m kind of dreading it, but...maybe it’ll be more bearable with you there.”

You playfully punch his arm, happy to see him admit he did want you to come, “I think it’ll be fun. I’ve never partied with you, y’know,” You pause, looking at him with wide eyes, placing a piece of hair behind your ear, looking so delectably innocent in the way you know he likes, “Wanna see what you look like drinking shots.”

“I’m not really like that though.” He admits.

The club is everything you imagined. It feels like it’s straight out a scene of the Hollywood movies with the smoke, strobe lights, and beautiful bodies strewn across the dancefloor. You’re grateful you’re wearing your friend’s dress tonight, a silky dark green number that fits your body like water. Nothing in your closet would have matched the caliber of tonight.

Colt gets a lump in his throat when he first sees you. Tries to keep his eyes on your pretty face so they don’t trail after your neckline or the skin left uncovered by the shortness of your dress. But he finds demise there too, he doesn’t want to stare too long at those kissable lips.

Still, he’s composed if not anything else. He’s too gentlemanly to touch you improperly. The hand on your back is feather-light. Doesn’t waver or tease lower.

“Remember, we can leave whenever, okay? If anything’s wrong-”

“Colt” You giggle, “Everything will be fine. Now, go socialize. Don’t you have important people to talk to?” You shoo him away, and he turns around with a look of defeat.

“If anything is wrong, come find me ok?” He affirms, and to reassure (and perhaps fluster) him, you thread your fingers between his, clasp your hands together and press a kiss on your joined knuckles, “Yes, yes. I know.”

The strobe lights shower his face in violet, and he’s grateful you can’t see how red he is.

You weave through the crowd with no particular purpose, dancing on beat to songs you can only remember half the lyrics to. There’s an attractive man who lingers behind you like he’s some ghost haunting you. You humor him because he’s way too cute to not entertain. Tall with slicked-back blond hair, broad shoulders, and an air of cockiness that should register as a red flag.

This song’s pretty. Synth heavy and melodic. The man behind you doesn’t shout his name over the music, he invades your personal space with large hands over your hips and whispers his name into your ear. Porco Galliard. The name sparks an unfortunate chord within you. Colt most certainly knew him, which means he was off-limits. 

It’s okay. You didn’t come here to hook up with a new boy toy today. You came here to have fun. You could dance with him a little.

He’s not afraid to touch you, hands all over your hips, pushing you closer. He’s so close, you could smell his aftershave. Minty. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that his hair was dark. 

Porco bends his head to whisper in your ear, “You’re so intoxicating, I’ve always wanted to meet you.” 

Your eyes flutter in confusion. It’s cute, the blond thinks. Not minx-like like how you portray yourself, a deer caught under strobe lights. You frown, tilting your head, “Do you know who I am?”

He chuckles, and you could almost feel the vibrations of his deep voice. “Colt never really shuts up about you.” His fingers thrum on your hip, “His best friend.” The way he says those words are mocking, and you can feel your heart sink into your stomach. 

You lightly push his chest, “I-I should probably circulate.”

His eyes narrow but he doesn’t press, boldly kissing you on the apple of your cheeks and firmly squeezing your hip with the same hand that felt it was its right to situate itself there, “Come find me later.”

Definitely not, you think. That’s not going to happen. 

You leave the dance floor disjointed. Maybe you needed more liquid courage. Your eyes settle on an alcove on the second floor. Tentatively, you climb up the stairs, letting your intuition guide you. You wonder if it’s some kind of VIP room, as you look at the velvety walls and the private bar to the side. 

You’re about to turn around, knowing you probably won’t be let in since you’re essentially a no-body but you hear your name echoed behind you. 

It’s Reiner, and he gestures you to come into the room. You mutter thanks although you’re not quite sure what you’re thanking him for. 

“Some party huh?” He asks. 

Not in the mood for conversation, you simply nod. 

“Do you want to see Eren? I can take him to you.”

Even at the mention of his name, you could feel your heartbeat quicken, “Oh no, it’s totally fine. I’m sure I’ll catch him later.”

“But he’s right there”. And that dreaded pointer finger points to the large couch behind a table left messy with playing cards, crystal ashtray bowls, and shot glasses. It’s like you’re witnessing a stage with the bright lime-light only shining on Eren.

And the woman sprawled all over him. 

Reiner nudges you towards them, even though your feet don’t want to comply. You hate him for forcing you into this situation, no exit in sight. 

Eren’s eyes are closed, not like he’s napping, but merely resting. You can see the dark circles but fuck he looks good. He’s wearing a nice black button-up where most of the top buttons are left unfastened, showing off his nicely defined chest and you hate how you can’t tell who the small red marks on his skin are from. A string of pearls is around his neck, fastened like a choker. His legs are spread, his body half-sunken on the couch. 

There’s a pale hand stroking his chest. It belongs to one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. She’s sitting with her knees tucked under her, all wrapped up in a short glitzy dress, the shape and fit not unlike your own but you don’t think you can pull off your dress like the way she does. Her hair is dark and curly, framing her shoulders, and she has one of those unique faces you can spot in high fashion magazines. 

The way they look next to each other, like Adonis and Helen, like two halves of a whole-it makes you want to eat your insides. 

“Whose your friend Reiner?” She asks, the coyness evident in her tone. 

Reiner beams next to you, “She’s Colt’s plus one”. You’ve never wanted to punch anyone more, although you’re more than sure you have nothing against the student football athlete built like a brick house. 

The dark-haired woman coos, “Isn’t that cute? I didn’t know Colty had a girlfriend.” She pouts, “And I thought he told me everything.” There’s a funny feeling building in your gut, twisting and reacting over the nickname. 

Eren opens his eyes, disturbed by the noise. You’re not prepared to meet his viridian eyes. The “we’re just friends” you were about to utter dies in the roof of your mouth. 

“She’s not Colt’s girlfriend.” His voice is cold and flat, slightly hoarse. He looks straight at you, “Right?” But it doesn’t really feel like he’s asking you anything. 

You jumble over your words, “Yes um, Colt and I are not dating. We’re-we’re just friends,” You finish awkwardly. 

The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits as she observes the interaction between you and Eren, your frazzled demeanor giving everything away, “Do you guys know each other?” A question not even remotely addressed to you. 

Taking a long hit from his disposable vape, he blows out rings. “Yeah. Same college”

Jesus. You think. All those thoughts and feelings and restless nights spent with him, and he summarizes your familiarity with each other as attending the same school which is funny because you honestly don’t know the last time Eren has attended any of his classes. 

She removes his hand from his chest and brings it to you, offering a handshake. “Hello, I’m Pieck.”

You force yourself not to think about how this hand had just rubbed up and down Eren’s chest, likely feeling over the love bites she left on his torso. You shake her hand, introducing yourself with a shaky breath. 

There’s no music, no distractions, a hazy dark room filled with smoke and people you were totally out of your element with.

Reiner and Pieck are talking about something, the words not sticking to your ears. Eren is staring right at you, through you. Viridian eyes staring soullessly, no words to fill the void, just him and his pretty mouth blowing out curls of vapor, nauseatingly sweet vapor that almost made you miss the cigarette stench. 

You feel awkward, you feel scrutinized, and when his eyes stare at all of you, from the plunge of your neckline, the exposed calves and kitten heels you wore because you were too clumsy for grown-up heels (she wore stilettos), you want the ground to swallow you whole.  

Clearing your throat, you cringe as you hear yourself talk, “I-uh, should get back. It was good to meet you, Pieck.” The words come out as a rush. 

The dark-haired woman pouts, “Oh but we just met. Though we could talk a little more, you know girl to girl.” She giggles. 

Reiner smirks “Let her go, Pieck. Colt’s probably worried sick looking for her.” Eren clenches his mouth at the blond’s words but says nothing. 

You can hear your heartbeat thud. No words come out so you merely smile weakly and half-heartedly wave to the trio. 

As you leave, you catch a tail-end of a conversation you wish you hadn’t, “Are we going back to your place after Eren?”

You reach the bar at the dance floor with lightning speed, wanting nothing but to dissolve like sugar. You ask the bartender for shots, shots, and shots, doesn’t matter what. You’ll drink the man-shaped loneliness in your heart until it bleeds out. Your throat burns but you’ve long learned to welcome the fire. 

You’re about to down your third shot of clear liquid until you feel a warm hand wrap around your shoulder. You turn around, about to give a stern piece of your mind until your eyes find concerned hazel ones. 

Colt. Good old best friend Colt. 

Good old Colt who loved you so much everyone teased you for it. Good old Colt who wore his heart on his sleeve and would never dream of touching a cigarette. 

You’re buzzed, not even properly drunk, but there’s a bubby overexcited feeling bursting out from the seams. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed into worry. 

You roll your eyes, so typical of him to always be so serious. “Come on”, you grab his hand, “Let’s have fun!” He lets you drag him away to the dancefloor, fully knowing that if he wanted to, he could just push himself out of your grip. 

The song that’s playing is one that you and Colt have blasted multiple times in his car and that song has played so many times in that car, he swore he’d never play it again. 

“This is our song” you giggle, and poor, awkward Colt who unaccustomed to dancing merely stands, peering over you with a mix of worry and puzzlement, 

“I think you’ve had too much.” He tries to grasp your shoulders but you slink away in time. You’re perfectly fine, he’s just too much of a square to realize what having a good time is.

Batting your eyelashes, you look up at him, “Just follow my lead ok?” You guide his shyly eager hands to your hips. He looks at you like…he looks at you like…

Shit. Is this what Eren sees? When he looks at you? Genuine unadulterated admiration. No admiration isn’t it, this unnamed feeling has more weight.  

You intertwined your fingers with Colt’s warm hands. He’s red but he welcomes the touch, moving his body to the beat, and you giggle at his attempted dancing. He laughs too and all is warm and good. So warm and good, but not enough.

You crush your lips against the blond’s and you can feel him go still. But that moment of hesitation passes because he’s crushing his lips against yours too, hand digging deep into your back. You part your mouth, kissing his teeth and his tongue moves against yours. Slowly, sensually, sweetly. 

Without warning, he pulls back abruptly. 

He’s all flushed, “Wait, why…why did you kiss me?” What an entirely unromantic question. 

You give him a smile so wide your cheeks hurt, “You didn’t like it?”

He stumbles over his words, “No-No I did, I liked it a lot” You wish you could kill the pause, “...But…do you like me?”

You tilt your head, “Of course I like you Colt.”

He doesn’t believe you, you realize. And you’re not sure you believe it either. 

“N-no you don’t.” A deep breath, “I like you a lot. I think you know that.” Your nails dig into your palms so deeply. What’s he doing? Is he getting himself ready to ride the high horse?

“It’s not that deep…” You cut in. 

“No, it is that deep. I like you so so much, fuck I-” A deeper breath, “I like you too much to be used.”

I like you too much to be used. 

That doesn’t make sense, does it? Don’t you make yourself dispensable for the people you love? 

He takes a step back, voice so soft you want to screech, “I’m going to go home. If you need a ride back when you decide to leave, Sasha can take you home.”

“Colt” your voice is on the verge of breaking, “You don’t have to leave.” His lips are swollen, freshly kissed. 

He smiles at you, asymmetric and sad: “I should have left long ago.”

When you find Porco, there is no preamble. You whine not here and he pins you against the walls in the alleyway near the back exit of the club. It’s cold and when you exhale, you can see air. Porco is comfortably warm in his bomber jacket that he’ll never offer you. You didn’t want anyone to see you and the dark blond in the club, but it’s so cold out here. 

He moves too fast, hiking your leg up, slotting himself between your thighs. He pulls your dress down without much of a prelude, feeling up your soft breasts with calloused hands. He pulls on the nipple between his teeth, “You like this huh?” Your nipples are stiff because it’s cold, not because of his frenzied ministrations. 

He’s three fingers inside you when you push against his shoulder, “S-stop.” 

Agitation colors his face, “What do you mean?” As if to emphasize, his bulge presses against your core.

Maybe you should let him have his way. It wouldn’t be too bad. Probably wouldn’t last very long either, but your teeth are chattering and you hate how blond Porco’s hair is. 

But this is a situation. You hold on to his shoulders tightly, trying to force over the awkward words, “I w-want you to stop.” 

Reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out of you, annoyance etched onto his handsome features, “You’re a fucking tease.”

And he leaves like that. You let yourself slide against the wall, knees tucked to your chin. In a second, you’ll fish your phone out and call an Uber, but for now you just want-

You’re not very sure what you want. A moment to yourself? When has a moment to yourself never been miserable? 

You hide your head in your arms, ignoring the goosebumps prickling on your arms. 

Your nose reacts first. Those damn cigarettes. 

Raising your head up, you see the dark-haired archangel who haunts your dreams and nightmares. The street lamp’s light behind him makes him look ethereal, an angel with a street lamp halo.

Eren simply stands, watching you. You’re not in the mood to break the silence. Awkwardly, you hoist yourself up. Your heart is beating, but you don’t know if you have it in you to make yet another man disappointed. Of course, you could never disappoint Eren because he never expected much, did he? What was there to disappoint?

You forget though. Eren’s capable of apathy. 

And cruelty. 

“Colt ran off on you so you fucked his friend?”

You grit your teeth, “That’s none of your fucking business. And no I didn’t.”

The corner of his mouth perked up, “That’s good. You should be wary of the diseases he’s carrying.”

“As opposed to what?” You snark back, “How many sluts are you fucking?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter, but it makes him throw his head back in laughter, “Besides you, I can’t really think of anyone else.”

That’s it. You’re about to leave but a large hand overwhelms your wrist, “I’m kidding. You know that.” 

You try to pull away but he doesn’t let you, instead of pulling you into him and against the wall, in the very position Colt had you earlier. But now the chances of escape seem slim to zero. 

His slender fingers ghost over your jaw. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Pieck right now?” You hate the way you sound, reminded of all the movies written by men with overly jealous and bitchy female characters. 

His thumb swipes over your parted lips, “No, I’d rather be much with my favorite girl.”

You hate this, Hate how your heart swims up. Hate the amusement laced in his low voice. Hate how desperately you want to believe him. 

“That shut you up huh?” He chuckles. 

There’s a rude remark on the tip of your tongue that he swallows with a kiss. You kiss back. Teeth against teeth, mouth against mouth, his tongue dominating yours. 

When it’s time to breathe, he swiftly unzips his jacket and places it around your shoulders. You’re too shocked by the gesture to respond properly. You mutter out a thanks, flustered and flushed. 

His hands grope your inner thighs, thumb digging into the supple flesh. Slowly he whispers into your ear, “Let’s go back to mine.” 

[allylikethecat]

While doing research for an upcoming fic it has come to my attention that Brussels is only a 2 hour train ride from London and now I'm pissed I didn't pop over and get a waffle last time I was in the UK.

[spotaus]

The Maskmaker (New Age AU Drabble)

Hiiiii. So, this isn't very long and doesn't do Nightmare or N enough justice, but I wrote this a while ago and my lovely pals looked at me w/ big ol' eyes on my post about posting it, sooooo!!! Here it is!!

This is shortly after Night's coronation and follows Ancha's drabble regarding Ccino + his remaining by Night's side!

   These halls. They were cold. Colder than the rest of the castle.

   Nightmare only knew, thanks to the gentle puff of steam left by his shallow breaths as he stepped down the corridor. The dark, long, corridor.

   He couldn't feel it. No. His sense of warmth and cold had faded almost instantly after eating the apple. The nervous chill in his core had been replaced with a luke-warm air. Like a puddle left after a summer rain. The chill couldn't reach him.

   Still, he wore his cloak. One which Ccino had tailored not a week ago because he feared Nightmare would feel bare without it. His old one used to keep him warm. Ccino was right, of course. Purposeless or not, the new heavy fabric kept him centered. Covered the restless twitching of his tendrils as he spoke with the few he could bring himself to communicate with since the incident.

  

   Now, it's bottom hem was suspended away from the old floors, just barely, by his extra limbs.

   His steps were silent, he wasn't sure when that had begun, but he imagined in this darkness no one would know he was there at all until the Cyan of his eyelight was turned upon them.

   He approached the door. Finally reaching the ornate, carved surface he'd visited only once before. When he and Dream were young. Nim had ordered them to come alone and let the mask-maker measure them. So they'd know when time came for them to commission their own masks. They didn't have to come down, the mask-maker already knew their measurements. They always did.

   His knuckles hovered away from the door. With its carving of that tree, swirling and dancing in the low light his eyelight provided. This space held more lingering emotions than he'd expected. His hand trembled a bit.

   No. He couldn't chicken out. He couldn't go crying, this was important to him. It was his right. It was... the least he could do.

   His fist connected with the door, twice, steadily. The loud sound echoed into the space behind him, and he stood. Prepared to face heckling and anger abd fear, for he wasn't sure the mask maker even knew of his rise to the throne. He hadn't been there, after all. At the ceremony.

   The door swung inward, and... Nightmare found hinself staring down at a monster.

   This monster... was not the one whom he remembered.

   Before, when he was young, he recalled a large, imposing monster. Heavy clay hands that held the pristine masks so carefully. Kind eyes which skimmed sorrowful past him, and handed him that lovingly carved owl mask. The one made simply out of dark wood.

   Now, the monster stood before him, leaning in the doorframe, was not that monster. This one was slightly shorter than him, stocky in the shoulders, and bundled in layers of cloaks and gloves. Their face hid behind the mask of some sort of rabbit, bright, burning lights behind the eye-holes were a soft lavender and blue. Only a lashing tail gave away their species. A skeleton varient.

   "Mask-maker." He greeted, composure renewed.

   The monster blinked, before they widened the door a bit more. A wave of amusement and excitement washed over Nightmare, and he thought he might be sick from just how potent it was.

   "Ah, my King!" They exclaimed, and Nightmare could almost hear the smile in their tone. "I wasn't expecting you so soon after your whole coronation, come in!"

   They darted away from the door, allowing Nightmare to see past them. The room beyond was as he remembered. The large sets of work-benches, suspended candles, piles upon piles of wood. Masks lined every inch of the walls, though now he could see newer ones piling up along shelves and along the stations.

   The monster seemed to round to a large chair, much too oversized for them, and plop down into it. Nightmare drifted inside, closing the door behind him carefully.

   "You royals only come down to see me for masks, that is my job though," They mused. "Or, well, that's what my mentor always said."

   Nightmare drew closer to the opposite side of the table which now separated them. He could see the messy, amalgamated surface of a partially-completed work laying between them. The wood mangled and frayed not unlike torn flesh.

   "I must ask," He knew he had other business and little time, but, "Who are you, mask maker? My mother never mentioned a change in position."

   It would be just his luck that a fraud would be hidden here in the depths. Though, the emotions were simply so delighted. They swirled about, as though every flick of their tail sent another ripple through the air.

   A giggle erupted from behind their mask.

   "Oh, I think I like you already, my king!" They said happily, "Mask-makers have never been asked such a thing by the royals! We have always been known to retire and pass on the mantel without care from you folks."

   They divulged the information so easily, but Nightmare didn't recieve the answer he had asked for. It took a few more breaths before they spoke again.

   "My name is N, my King. Call me as you see fit, I change as easily as replacing my mask." They finally admitted. "King Nim visited me once, two years ago, only to inform me her prince may quickly approach after his coronation. Though, I'm sure you're not the one she meant?"

   Nightmare withheld the hiss which desperately wanted to bubble up in his throat. His tendrils whipped about in frustration. Guilt. Of course they were expecting Dream. He'd figured as much.

   "No matter. I am here to serve my king, and that king is you, my good sir." They dipped their head a bit, "So, what is it you'd like me to carve? A noble wolf? A regal ibis? Something fitting a consort or-"

   "None of that." Nightmare cut them off, his good socket narrowing in disgust. The thought made his stomach churn.

   He thought he'd have to wait for her to speak up again, but found they had quieted and were seemingly awaiting information.

   "My... head of house. Recently promoted as of my ascension." He said, slower. He wouldn't get worked up again, "He deserves only the best, and I know you understand this well."

   N seemed to smile beneath the mask again, their eyelights hidden in thin crescent slits.

   "Describe away, my king!" They exclaimed, reaching out for a scrap of paper.

   Nightmare remembered how he'd been taught. To describe the mask with intention. Feelings and thoughts tucked away into each and every word. Those were supposed to be insightful for the mask-maker. To guide their hand as they carved.

   "This mask. I would like it to be the Visage of a cat. Well-kept, clean, orderly." He spoke, gently, drawing his eye away from the table and to the plain floor were nothing would influence his thought. "A kind face, soft. Trustworthy and bold. Clever. Warm."

   Nightmare wasn't sure what came over him. Descriptions and feelings tumbled from his jaws for what felt like ages. By the time he finished, his throat was raw with emotion. His hands clutched the inside of his cloak like a life-line.

   It was the tapping of N's charcoal stick to her desk which alerted Nightmare. Made his eyelight snap back up to her position.

   Though, she'd already put her sketch down and was up and across the room. Tugging at her piles and piles of enchanted and imported woods. For being a stationary monster, they had strength to move the wood with ease.

   "You've given me the perfect working material, my King! This mask should be done in four-days time." They assured him, not turning around.

   Their emotions read as elation now. A pure, unadulterated joy at the... the way Nightmare had described his mask? He could only imagine his magic intent had something to do with it. Ccino would, hopefully, understand.

   Oh!

   "The mask. You are aware who it is for?" He questioned.

   N hummed, before popping away from the stack of wood with a nice chunk of white-ish wood. It reminded Nightmare of cooked fish flesh, a pristine off-white with an intricate pattern.

  

   "I can only imagine it's that guy? Ccino? Good for him with the promotion, by the way. I'm sure he had his fair share of struggles to get there." N replied.

   Nightmare gave a minute nod. He hated that he had a heavy suspicion as to why N already knew Ccino by name. Nefarious plans set by his mother yet again. Bastard woman.

   He debated staying longer. Watching N strip the bark away or making smalltalk.

   In the end, it was better to leave. His hands were still shaking and his gut felt like it'd spill if he felt one more overwhelming emotion from the craftsman he was standing with. So, he bid them a farewell, promised to return in four days time, and exited from that heavy wooden door.

   The trip would be worth it so long as N delivered. And she would.

[dragonji]

gotten into a bad habit of every few days foregoing my meds bc I wake up late and think 'well I feel fine I'll just take them slightly earlier tmrw morning' completely forgetting the Agonies.

[peppermint-toads]

you were so sick and tired of being pregnant. you were always so hot, tired, sore.

your due date was three days ago. you were moping and miserable. your ob didn’t want to induce for whatever fucking reason. you begged her to tell you what you could do to get this fucking baby out of you already.

her suggestion took really surprised you.

simon made sure to always be at all of your appointments, even if you assured him that some of them were complete wastes of time.

you were just so, so glad he couldn’t make it to this one because your ob had essentially suggested you go home and get boned.

you never had to expressly ask simon to fuck you. never. he just knew or he was the one to initiate it.

your face was already red as you walked into your apartment. simon was in the kitchen starting dinner (bless him).

“thought i’d make something spicy. get things moving along, you know.”

you would’ve smiled at the thought of him researching foods that induced labor if you weren’t so worked up.

you set your keys and purse down.

“how was the appointment, love? sorry i couldn’t make it this go ‘round.”

again, your heart melted at how soft of a person simon managed to become.

“um, actually, simon—”

he halted immediately, rounding the kitchen island to place a hand on your stomach.

“what? is everything okay?”

god you can do this. deep breath.

“my ob said that, to help the baby, we should uhm. y’know.”

your gaze subconsciously drifted down towards the bulge in his pants that was there even though he was soft.

you looked back up at him and could see that it hadn’t clicked. you sighed again.

“she said if we fuck the baby might come sooner.”

it was simon’s turn to nearly choke. he nodded, slightly shocked by your bluntness. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing you squirm as you forced yourself to blurt it out.

“okay,” he said decidedly. easy peasy. “if she suggested it, that means it’s safe, right?”

you nodded.

and that was that. he had you naked and rolling your hips on top of him within ten minutes. he helped you grind on his length just right, not worried about his pleasure at all.

your cheeks were all rosy and one of simon’s hands stayed firmly planted on your soft bump.

he made damn sure you came at least three times around him.

“that’s it, mama, such a good girl for me. you’re gonna have my baby, yeah? want me to get you pregnant all over again?”

you felt so loose and warm as he corralled you into the shower, making sure you were nice and clean before he wrapped you in your fuzzy robe and plopped you on the couch.

“curry will be done soon. hope you’re hungry.”

you went into labor the next morning.

[dragonfly0808]

So my Batfamily brain rot is back (not that it ever really left) and I just had a thought like…

If you’re a henchman/criminal in Gotham, seeing your life flash past your eyes is gonna be a somewhat regular occurance but… what if like… the thing that truly made a henchman’s heart fall to his ass was when they hit Robin just a little too hard and this 10 year old kid just starts crying and goes ‘Daaaaaadddd!’

That’s the moment when they truly think they’re going to die because said dad, the kid is calling for is a 6’6 demon from hell who’s all muscle and shadows and vengance and a lot of Gotham still thinks he’s a cryptid

The henchmen all drop their guns and try to calm the kid down but it’s over in 5 seconds flat. Batman breaks several bones before speaking to Robin in the softest voice they’ve ever heard him use and the criminal world, who was already a bit hesitant to fight a kid have even more reason to take it just a little easy on Robin.

And like, I can picture different reactions with every Robin.

Like, for Dick, he’s ten and we all know he was the most violent Robin second only to Damian so maybe when he’s ten or eleven and has calmed down a little, a henchback who still remembers what a little shit he used to be decides to get back at Robin, slips on a pair of brass knuckles and BAM

And then, little Dick just stares for a moment in shock, cheek already starting to bruise, the criminals he’d been fighting all stay still because it was a nasty punch and then…

“Daaaaad!!!” He cries out in a whiny voice that reminds them that Robin really is just a kid and it all clicks into place.

Even Bruce wasn’t expecting that, Dick has just started calling him dad and he still isn’t used to being called that so to hear his kid calling for him in the moment where he is startled and hurt and a little scared… the henchmen don’t even have time to react and they wake up in the hospital with concussions and maybe a few broken bones.

It doesn’t take Dick long to calm down, it was mostly that the hit from a random henchmen really startled him and got him right in the cheekbone. But Bruce still finishes patrol early and Dick still hides under Bruce’s cape all the way to the Batmobile.

Then comes Jason and Jason was such a sweet kid, I headcannon he was the one that called Bruce dad the most often while being Robin. So one night during patrol maybe he finds himself fighting Penguin or Two-Face and it’s been a long night and he has an exam the following day and Bruce is fighting another villain at the other side of the warehouse

The point is, the henchmen and Two-Face start landing hits on eleven year old Jason in his gut and at some point he loses sight of Batman fighting on the other side of the room. Jason gets scared because he’s never really fought without Batman and while he knows that Bruce is still in the warehouse, he can’t see him and the handle of a gun hits the back of his ankle and he falls and he sees Two-Face or Penguin or one of the henchmen getting ready to grab the front of his uniform and beat him up and…

“Daaaaddd!”

The criminals freeze for a moment. They’ve heard the stories of what happened the last time a Robin called scared for dad.

They’re fucked.

They all drop their guns and try to get Jason to calm down, but he’s crying just a little bit and calls again, his voice breaking and despite having been at the other side of the warehouse just a second ago, Bruce somehow drops from the ceiling and it’s over before the criminals can keep pleading with Robin to calm down.

Jason tries to apologize for ‘acting like a baby’ but Bruce is having none of it and carries him back to the Batmobile and Jason is happy to just hide his face in Bruce’s cape because he knows his dad will always be there to save him.

Then comes Tim.

And Tim gets found out while doing reconnisance and somehow he finds himself face to face with Bane who manages to wrench away his bo staff and Tim is just eleven and he is scared because Bane doesn’t look like he’s going to hold back

All Tim knows is that the crack he hears must surely be his ribs either cracking or breaking and he can’t breath and he can only muster enough air for a single word… and he calls for his dad through tears and fear

And at this point… at this point Batman has already lost a Robin, Tim may not be his legally but he is his son just as much as Jason was

Bane spends a month in the ICU

Tim is embarrased that he reacted like that. He thinks it makes him less of a Robin to called scared for Batman… for dad.

So Bruce tells him of the other two times it happened. It’s one of the first times he’s spoken about Jason to Tim so bluntly.

Then comes Stephanie.

Stephanie never calls Bruce dad when she’s Robin. She’s not his daughter and he’s not her dad. They’re not sure what exactly they are to one another.

As far as Bruce knows, Stephanie’s version of Robin never called out to him when she was scared.

What he doesn’t know is that it did happen. Just once

It was the last time she was Robin. When Black Mask had her and she thought she was going to die

At some point while bleeding and feeling nauseous and so scared she could barely hear anything that wasn’t her own heart beating wildly against her chest… she called for dad. Not for Arthur Brown, but for Bruce

Black Mask laughed at her

Stephanie never tells Bruce

And finally… Damian

Now, we know Damian would probably never be startled enough to call for Bruce out of instinct, so I can see 2 scenarios in which this could happen.

First, he sees another kid do it. He sees a kid close to his own age laughing and playing, then tripping and staying quiet for a split second before crying out for mom and dad and he just… assumes that’s something kids do when scared and hurt and startled and does it mostly in an attempt to be a little more ‘normal’

Or, my favorite scenario… he hears of the other times it has happened. He overhears maybe Dick remind Jason of what Bruce did when Jason called out to dad as Robin. Tim maybe jokes that a Robin calling for dad is still the villains’ greatest fear

So Damian stores that knowledge away as a battle strategy just in case he ever needs it… and maybe a small part of him wants to put it to the test, to see if his father would protect him as brutally as he’s protected the Robins before him

So some random night during patrol, he’s up against several henchmen, a few of them grab him from behind, trying to hold him down. Damian is fighting against them when one of them swings a cylinder of metal that Damian thinks might’ve been meant for the plumbing and…

The henchman breaks Damian’s nose, there’s blood dripping down his chin and staining his uniform

Now… it is most certainly not the first time he’s broken something, he’s more than used to the pain, in fact, he barely feels it. However, it gives him a chance to put his little theory to the test

And so Damian allows himself to sound like the ten year old that he is and in a whiny, teary voice, goes… “Babaaaaa!” (Bonus points if it’s the first or second time he’s called Bruce baba instead of father)

What Damian didn’t take into account though, is that Batman and Robin aren’t the only ones on patrol that night. They made a big bust. The biggest part of the operation was over but they were still fighting a few stragglers. The whole fucking family is here.

And they all hear his cry.

Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen a fight end so quickly. The henchmen only have a split-second of surprise before vanishing, being tackled or shot or having knives buried on their shoulders by his siblings.

The one that actually broke Damian’s nose is being beaten up by Nightwing, Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen Grayson so angry.

A shadow kneels in front of him, father. Baba. He’s checking Damian and Todd is right at his side, both speaking in hushed tones, checking his injuries and wiping the tears that usually came with a broken nose.

And now… Damian is used to his father and Grayson treating him like a child, trying to be as soft as they can with him. Even Cain does it to some extent.

But… having Drake wrap an arm around him, calling him baby when knocking out one of the criminals that had hurt him ‘that’s my fucking baby brother!’ and continue to hold him later into the night on the couch, having Brown willingly give up all the snacks she keeps in her utility belt and promise to take him to Batburger the following day for milkshakes because he was ‘a champ’. And Thomas wraps his favorite blanket around Damian while they’re fixing him up.

Todd decides to stay the night at the manor. Which he never does. They all decide to spend the night at the manor when Damian still sniffles on the Batmobile and they have breakfast all of them together. Which Damian isn’t sure has ever happened before and Cain gets Alfred to make pancakes with chocolate chips instead of blueberries.

They call him baby in hushed whispers but for once, it doesn’t bother him even though it really should

But most of all, Bruce refuses to let him go for a good five minutes after he first cries for him. Smoothing down his hair and whispering that it’ll be okay and just being soft in a way Damian has never seen before.

He sleeps between his Baba and Grayson and he knows that Todd and Drake and Cain check in on them at least twice in the night for some reason.

And he realizes it’s… it’s nice. Maybe this really could be an effective battle strategy to be employed again someday.

[deeplyshalllow]

An in depth study of Fiyero and Elphaba's first meeting in the Wicked movie

So I've wanted to do an analysis of this scene from the moment I saw it. It's such a great addition to canon and gives such a fascinating insight into both of their personalities and the facades they put on to others. It also gives hints of the fact that both of them are pretty good at breaking down each other's walls.

From the top:

“Woah, Woah there, woah.”

“I did not see her.”

“Yeah, neither did I.”

“You might want to, um”

“Ok.”

“You know,”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there, you must have...”

The first impression we get of Fiyero is that he’s kind. Obviously careless enough to hit a girl in the dark, but he immediately slows down and, even before Feldspar has told him to apologise, he’s got down and is about to make his way over.

It’s also important to note we that seeing him talk to a Horse as a friend, when just the scene prior we have seen that a large amount of the population don’t want Animals to talk at all. In fact, this is the only other human we see friends with an Animal in the entire movie, and it sets up immediately the fact that he will agree with Elphaba on her cause.

“...blended with the foliage.”

Here is his first reaction to Elphaba’s greenness. It is the rudest thing that Fiyero says to her all scene, and something that immediately puts Elphaba on the defensive, having heard shit like this all her life, but it’s also very on par with Fiyero and his constant habit of saying dumb shit whenever Elphaba is around (“yeah, or maybe it scratched me or something,” and “well, actually it was, but it wasn’t” come to mind), he’s surprised and he reacts with humour (something we see he does a lot).

It’s interesting to contrast this to his musical comment, “Well maybe the driver saw green and thought it meant go,” which is a lot more pointed and insulting, blaming the situation on her (though to be fair she does wake him up and attack him for what his carriage driver did), Fiyero in the movie reacts dumbly but not maliciously.

“Is this how you go through life? Just running amuck and trampling anyone in your path?”

Elphaba is immediately on the defensive. She’s already stressed about Doctor Dillamond, pissed off about being knocked over and now, as usual, she has met a new person who is insulting her skin tone. So she does what she does best, she puts her walls up and hides behind them.

“No.”

*Feldspar laughs*

Fiyero is shocked by this attack. He’s naturally charming, to the point where he relies on his charm to get him out of situations. So the fact it doesn’t work stuns him a little. This is why Feldspar laughs, because he knows Fiyero and how he normally acts, and it is funny to see him not immediately manage the situation.

“No, sometimes I’m asleep.” *looks at her flirtily*

Fiyero recovers, his walls are back up. He’s over the shock of seeing someone green and how she’s reacted to him, so he goes back to charm by flirting with her. Notice how he is using self derogatory humour, it’s easy charm that he knows how to use – he’s trying to ease the situation by insulting himself and making her laugh. It’s also another way of cultivating his image, Fiyero very deliberately portrays himself as stupid, flirty and lazy (he sings an entire song about it!) and here he is playing it up.

Also, I’m pretty sure this is a reference to their meeting in the musical (where he is actually asleep), which is cute.

*Awkward pause*, “Yeah, alright, alright, here we go. No, I’m not seasick.”

Elphaba, who is not at all used to people flirting with her, but is used to people asking questions and insulting her skin tone – has picked up none of the playful implications and only that he is stupid and lazy, and therefore starts the rant that she’s said 100 times before.

“Neither am I.”

“No. I did not eat grass as a child.”

“Oh you didn’t? I did!”

But Fiyero starts replying! Again, it’s all charm and self derogatory humour, but he’s sensed the unease, he did not come to insult or attack her, and he’s trying to lighten the situation with his usual techniques he uses on everyone – but they are not working.

“And yes, I have always been green.”

“And the defensiveness? Is that a recent development?”

And here we see Fiyero let down his shield a little, and let on that he’s less dumb than he’s acting. Fiyero is remarkably good at understanding people, it’s how he manages to maintain his facade in the first place – and it’s how he ends up being an effective double agent through most of act 2. Fiyero immediately realises that Elphaba is putting on an act too, that she’s not just attacking him because she’s annoyed at him but that there’s something more going on there.

I love it. I love it so much. It’s such a good addition to the musical canon, because all the traits for Fiyero to be like this are already there, and it adds an extra bit of depth to our understanding of why he’s fascinated with Elphaba – because he knows that she’s another person hiding her true self from the world. It’s such a good link to the Lion Cub scene later where Elphaba pretty much calls him out on the same thing.

*Elphaba stares*

*Fiyero tries a smoulder*

“Hm.”

There is a second here where Elphaba realises that she’s been called out. That she’s attacked him when he wasn’t being malicious and it does cause her to retreat slightly.

Fiyero, now in safer territory, puts his walls back up and goes back to flirting. Elphaba, again not used to this at all, doesn’t really understand this and is still in a bad mood about the Animals, so breaks the moment.

*Feldspar laughs, Fiyero tries to shh him but laughs too.*

*Elphaba notices and stalks off.*

So this is interesting. From context clues, what Feldspar is laughing at earlier and Fiyero’s comment later, it appears he’s laughing at Fiyero, that his easy charm hasn’t worked and he’s found himself on the back foot. Fiyero, bewildered, but still playing up his persona, laughs too. Elphaba sees this and, obviously, immediately takes this as them laughing at her greenness, and therefore any goodwill from what he’s said is gone, and she stalks off.

“I’m off for some more trampling, may we offer you a ride?”

Fiyero, bless him, tries again. He’s seen he’s offended her, though probably hasn’t quite connected exactly why, and tries to make right. So he goes in with more self derogatory humour as well as a genuinely kind offer – it probably isn’t safe for her to walk back in the dark – but the moment has been lost.

“No thanks. Get stuffed.”

Elphaba’s walls are back up again. She might regret the “stuffed” comment by the end of act 2 though...

“Wow, Feldspar, we have just been spurned by a girl.”

“Indeed.”

“Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Fiyero ends the scene baffled, unsettled, but interested. He plays it off as if he’s normal and also reassembles his walls and defensiveness, again playing into the lazy playboy persona he puts on, ready for his next scene with Galinda.

Analysis of Fiyeraba interactions in the Dancing Through Life/Ozdust Scene

Analysis of Fiyeraba interactions in the Lion Cub Scene in the movie

An In Depth Study of Elphaba and Fiyero in the Train Station Scene

[ssahotchnerr]

yes! i do!! you have jj’s role and an unsub is shot dead infront of you and his blood literally soaks you and you’re shaking and speechless and aaron’s focus is to get to you and keep you safe and bring you back to earth 🥲🥲

stay with me

cw; fem liasion!reader, protective!aaron, multiple blood descriptions, panic attack descriptions, no established relationship but aaron and reader are close, there's also one small mention of aaron's shirt being big on reader, fluff <3 wc; 1k

your ears are ringing. whether it's from the gunshot or the blatant shock, you have no idea.

you're frozen in place; everything's fuzzy, your body is buzzing and your lips, hands, everything is numb.

you're not used to this. this isn't what your job usually entails. you look at pictures like this, you don't live or experience it.

in the haze, someone's approached you. someone's talking to you. someone's embraced you. there's a hand on your back, an arm attempting to shield you away. but your feet don't move. internally, you're screaming at them to move.

why won't they move?

"hey," it's aaron. you don't hear him, or process that it's him, until he shakes you ever so gently and again, he says, "hey."

you don't want to be used to this.

"i..." you rigidly stand there, staring at the unsub laid in front of you, the pool of blood around him growing as the seconds pass. you think you're articulating words, but you're not sure.

aaron follows your eyes - he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. a swirl of emotions fill him - first and foremost, relief you're safe and unscathed, but also horror at what you just encountered - what you shouldn't have encountered.

"it's on me." you manage to choke out, feeling rather lightheaded as you view your shaky hands, and then your blouse, both spattered with red. it's on your neck, your face, and it's like you can feel every singular dot, singeing into your skin like it's bound to be permanent. a new fear fills you - will you ever be able to not feel it?

"don't look, just look at me." your head whips towards aaron, finding his gentle and concerned brown eyes. the sight allows your chest to loosen, finding the smallest bit of normalcy when it comes to breathing. you're remembering how to breathe.

aaron wants to bring the cuff of his sleeve to your skin, to wipe away the residue but he can't. he fears it would make it worse, and remind you again that it's littered on you - the last thing you needed. he wanted to calm you, not further panic you. "or better yet, just close them, sweetheart."

the term of endearment goes right past you, as you grip onto his vest, the sleeves of his shirt, anything your fingers can hold onto as he's guiding you out of the house. he's talking to the rest of the team, relaying instructions, but you only focus on keeping your eyes shut.

"it's okay, you're going to be just fine." aaron assures you, his voice low and even, soothing. "hear the leaves crunching under your feet? there's a cool breeze tonight, too. can you feel it?"

you nod gingerly. the sound is distant, but it's there. and just as he stated, you feel the cool air hit your cheeks, the wind also tousling your hair. it feels colder than cool, though, due to the stream of tears trailing downwards - have you been crying too? "i can hear it in the trees."

"that's good. how about smell, can you smell anything?"

copper.

aaron realizes his mistake the second the sentence leaves his mouth, your face paling as well as his.

"your aftershave." you blurt out, surprising yourself. despite the sheer panic, it was fairly easy to redirect your mind to him. your fingers clutched onto the fabric of his shirt more forcefully. "it smells spicy, sweet too. it smells like you. familiar. safe."

you resist the urge to tuck your face into him, but after a moment's thought, you do. you need it. you need him.

and to further secure you, aaron holds you to him, his large hand spanning the side of your head and keeping your face buried close to his chest.

your eyes open when you reach the suv; when the two of you come to a stop, when aaron's hold is suddenly absent, the sound of the door opening deeming it safe - far away from the scene.

but at the loss of his contact, involuntarily your eyes fall back to your blouse. it's stuck to your skin, soaked by the... blood.

"stay with me." aaron manages to grab your attention before you begin spiraling again, his hands lifting and hesitating. "may i?"

you nod, frantically and this time, you can feel the tears resurfacing. "please get it off me."

first, aaron unvelcros his vest, and then removes his tie, his dress shirt, leaving him in just his white tee. he drapes it over the passenger seat - at the ready.

aaron ushers you closer to the interior of the car so the open door fully covers you, blocking any view that isn't his. he unbuttons your blouse with gentle fingers, acting rather quickly as well. and respectfully, he averts his eyes - either looking strictly at his hands, the buttons on each shirt, or your face, checking in on you.

he helps you into his shirt, holding it open so you can slide your arms in. it envelopes you, and just as fast as he unbuttoned, he fastens it shut.

it feels as if a small weight is lifted off your shoulders, and aaron tosses your soiled shirt onto the ground in the backseat. he leads you to sit sideways in the passenger seat, facing him.

"i don't want to be alone." you don't know why that's the first thing to exit your mouth, but it is. your eyes lift to his, frightened and pleading.

aaron nods as he gets down on a knee, cupping your cheek with his hand. "you're sleeping in my room tonight."

"with you?"

with a stroke of his thumb, overtop those bloodstains he's desperate to wash and rid you from, he nods again. "with me."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Christmas in the STTC Universe

"Alexia!" Mapi shrieks," Alexia! Stop ignoring me! Alexia!"

Alexia hums to herself, hunched over her phone as she scrolls through another website.

Mapi, however, forces her way through mountains and mountains of stacked boxes to get to the other side of the room.

The locker room is covered in boxes from top to bottom with some even crammed into areas that they really shouldn't be able to be forced into.

"Ale! Alexia!"

Alexia looks up in shock. "Oh! Mapi! When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago! Which you would know if you didn't have this place stocked up like the back room of a shoe shop!"

Alexia frowns. "What do you mean? There's only five boxes of shoes here."

"I wasn't being literal!" Mapi snaps before massaging her temples with her hands. "What is all this stuff?! And why is it here?!"

"They're presents," Alexia says it like Mapi's dumb," For Christmas."

"Obviously but why are they here?"

"Well, I couldn't leave them at home. Maya's in that exploring stage so she'd get curious and try to look through them. And Elena's learning to crawl and this stuff would just get in way."

"So you thought that you would put all the presents for your whole family in here? With us?"

"No," Alexia scoffs," Don't be silly, Mapi."

"This is only temporary then? Thank god because I-"

"This is only Maya's gifts. Elena's are in one of the meeting rooms and y/n's are hidden at Alba's...Mapi? Are you okay? Your face is turning an odd colour."

Mapi's dramatic walk off is hindered somewhat by smacking her nose straight into a pile of boxes and nearly falling back into another one but, eventually, she manages to storm out and straight upstairs to your office.

You're sitting in your desk chair, looking through player health files or something when the door is slammed open.

"Your wife is crazy!"

"And hello to you too, Mapi. Come on in!"

"Crazy!" Mapi repeats, pacing in short, aggravated circles," She's crazy! The locker room is covered! Covered! In Christmas presents for your daughter! You have to get her to stop!"

You don't have a time to reply because the door swings open again and Alexia bursts in.

"Amor!" She cries," I found the cutest little booties for Elena! Look! Look!"

"No..." Mapi says softly," No...This-This can't be happening..."

"They're so cute!" You tell Alexia with equal enthusiasm," She'll love them so much! Order them! Order them!"

Alexia types in the delivery address and her card details and orders it happily before looking up.

"Where did Mapi go?"

It's a question that neither of you really dwell on that much as you show Alexia your own present ideas.

Wrapping the presents the night before isn't an easy task and you get the feeling that you and Alexia might have gone just a bit overboard. It's only a fleeting thought as you and Alexia wrap the boxes and tie them off with bows, writing sweet messages to your daughters on them even though neither of them can read just yet.

"We're all sleeping together tonight, right?" Alexia asks as she finishes off her last present, placing it in Elena's sizable pile.

"Us and the girls, definitely," You agree," I'm not sure if you'll get all the dogs and Mr Stinky in bed with us."

Mr Stinky looks up from his spot on the special pillow that's reserved just for him on the sofa. The tumours on his body have gotten much bigger now and he's getting weaker and weaker by the day.

He's got one more scan to come back to see if anything can be done but this could be his very last Christmas.

"Mr Stinky won't mind," Alexia assures you," He loves cuddling in our bed."

"And Lady?"

"Lady loves cuddling too!"

"And Sinky and his sisters?"

Alexia purses her lips. The puppies are still a bit wild and excitable at times, none of them ever content to just stay in one place even though the bed is more than big enough for everyone to fit into it.

"We'll leave the bedroom door open," Alexia says sagely, nodding her head like she's just cracked the secrets of the universe," So they can come in if they want."

"Alright," You say, standing up and stretching your back," I'm going to bring Mr Stinky up and then grab Elena. You'll let the dogs out one last time and get Maya?"

Alexia nods, drawing you back for a moment by your waist to press a kiss to your lips.

"I will, amor."

"Good," You say," And hurry up."

Alexia nods along with a smile, already heading to open the back door for the dogs.

Your footsteps approaching again makes Alexia turn and you speak directly in her ear.

"And I've got a very special present for you tomorrow when the girls have gone to sleep."

"Oh?"

You giggle right in her ear, low and sultry. "You're going to have a lot of fun unwrapping me for Christmas."

[purinfelix]

ᯓ crawling back to you ⋆.˚ - [ L.HS ]

summary: it's been almost two months since you've seen Heeseung, but now he's on your doorstep, drunk, desperate - and without his phone pairing: reader x exbf! heeseung || non-idol au, mentions of drinking and some unwanted touching, sfw mostly fluff/angst || w/c: 1.8k

a/n: ok this idea lowkey came to me so randomly AND ended up being way longer than i planned but i don't know what it is i love pathetic yearning men

You'd be lying if you said you were completely shocked. Even as you reached for the door handle after hearing a faint knock, a part of you already envisions him behind the door - maybe it's your intuition after countless late nights just like this, but a part of you deep down considers the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it might be hope.

"Heeseung," you breathe out once you see him, your tone of disappointment thinly veiled as a shock.

This is definitely the drunkest you've seen him, and judging from the way he's swaying side to side unsteadily and struggling to lift his head up to look at you - you'd say it's the drunkest he's been in a while.

He doesn't even greet you, just stumbles towards you, limp body crashing into yours sending you back a couple steps. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders, which are burning warm as he writhes under your touch, letting out a soft hum, that if you didn't know any better you might've taken as a sign of satisfaction.

"You drank too much," you huff, trying your best to maintain the air of annoyance you feel at him showing up, mostly because if you don't you know you'll be far too quick to let him in. "You should go home," you say to him.

He only lets out a faint whine in response, clearly not wanting to obey as he snakes an arm around your waist, burying his flushed face into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself slip, and for just a second your back arches, pushing yourself flush against him.

But you manage to catch yourself, pushing him away by the shoulders even as he resists you. Finally, as he lets out a breathy pant and flicks his hair away from his forehead, you get a glimpse of his face - and almost immediately you feel a strange pang in your heart as you do.

He looks almost exactly the same as the day you left him, large doe eyes staring into yours with his brows furrowed just enough to seem pleading, begging you not to make him leave. Only now his cheeks are far more flushed and underneath his eyes are dark rings - a sign that he hasn't been taking care of himself nearly as well as you'd hoped.

"I missed you," he says, and his voice is so tiny you barely recognise it. But the desperation in his tone and the way his bottom lip quivers as he speaks is far too familiar .

You can't turn him away, not now, not when he's here and drunk and looking at you like that.

"C'mon in," you sigh, guiding him gently with an arm around his waist as he naturally loops his around your shoulder, leaning his body weight against yours. It isn't easy but you manage to make your way to your living room, letting him lay down on your couch. His eyes are already half closed as he lies down, and you feel a slight relief at the thought that maybe this night won't be as difficult as you had initially believed.

"Give me your keys and phone, I'll look after them while you rest," you say, kneeling beside the couch so that you're level with his eyes.

They flutter back open for just long enough that you feel your cheeks heating up at the close eye contact, even more, once you notice a smile spreading across his face.

"You look even prettier than I remember," he hums to himself and you can't help but let out an indignant scoff to cover up how flustered you feel. He's drunk, he doesn't mean it you tell yourself as you move to search for his belongings to take care of. You pat down his jacket pocket and manage to track down his keys - though not without him squirming under your touch, letting out immature giggles. But his phone is nowhere to be found.

As if summoned by the sudden panic you feel at the thought of him losing his phone, your own phone lets out a chime from where you've left it on the coffee table. Weirdly enough when you pick it up you see it's a notification from Heeseung, or at least, his phone.

[ hello? ]

The thought of some stranger stealing his phone and running off with it worries you, and so you're quick to type back as you settle onto the floor next to the couch.

[ hi? ] [ hey! this is Jake, i'm Heeseungs friend, tho i'm not sure if we ever properly met ]

You let out a faint sigh of relief. The name sounds familiar enough to bring up memories of Heeseung mentioning the people in his classes - so you choose to believe him.

[ oh, right, were you out with him earlier? ] [ yeah, i'm guessing he already made it to your place ]

You furrow your brows as irritation suddenly washes over you, his friend knew he would come here and didn't stop him?

[ how do you know that? ] [ wait, did he not? ] [ no, he did, i'm just curious why you assumed it so quickly ] [ well he was talking about you all night, kept mentioning wanting to see you again so ... ] [ oh, right ] [ tho that's not much difference to what he's like every day ] [ ??? wdym ] [ he talks about you all the time ]

You pause, eyes wandering from your phone screen to the couch behind you which Heeseung's sprawled across, long limbs barely fitting. You can hear soft snores as he sleeps, and if you look for long enough you can see his chest rising and falling gently.

He talks about you all the time.

You don't know what shocks you more, the fact that he - the man who you broke up with, admittedly pretty coldly, almost a month ago, talks about you - someone who he should regard with bitterness and maybe even hatred, all the time.

The buzzing of your phone in your hand brings you back to the present.

[ hello? everything alright? ] [ yeah, yeah sorry he's alright he's just sleeping on my couch right now ] [ wow, thanks, i figured you'd just turn him away but i guess i can head back home knowing he's with you ] [ wait, you have his phone tho? ] [ yeah, he forgot it at the restaurant when he left for your place ] [ typical ] [ yep lol ]

You pause again, chewing your bottom lip as you consider whether to ask the question that's been plaguing your mind - but you figure you can't let an opportunity like this go without at least getting some answers and so without too much thought your fingers move swiftly to type it out.

[ has he been doing ok? ] [ it's hard to say, i mean, we think so but he's definitely been different ]

The painful pang in your heart strikes again, though this time it's closer to a sinking feeling. The thought of Heeseung not taking care of himself, being in pain or upset is one thing - but knowing that it's because of you hurts in a way you can't describe. Though, you're considerate enough not to let this show in your response.

[ i see ] [ don't beat yourself up over it tho, he'll be alright. I'll make sure he is ] [ thanks, i appreciate it ] [ anytime ] [ how come you didn't stop him from coming over? ] [ dude we tried, but he was too insistent ] [ seriously? ] [ you should've seen him, i thought he might start throwing punches if we didn't let him be ] [ and none of you thought to come with him? make sure he got here safe? i mean, he drank a lot right? ] [ i was going to, but he wouldn't let me - said something about wanting to go alone, and none of us deserving to see you ]

You pause again, and even though the thought of your ex boyfriend drunkenly fighting with his friends is a little funny, even to you - you can't help but feel confused about this entire situation. Why, out of all the people he knew, would Heeseung come to see you, at a time like this?

It's as if Jake is able to read your mind with his perfect timing and as your phone buzzes again you look down at it to see his message.

[ he must really feel safe with you ]

As soon as the message appears you find yourself unconsciously reading it over and over, as if it might change at any minute. Change into something that isn't so difficult to digest, something along the lines of "he wasn't thinking right" or "he was just desperate for a place to crash" - something that doesn't hurt so much because you know, deep down, that it's true, and you want it to be.

But no matter how many times you reread it, the words and the truth stay the same and even as you switch off your phone with trembling hands, it echoes in your mind.

He must really feel safe with you.

With a tired sigh, you slowly shift to get up and head to your own room, but somehow Heeseung's hand finds its way into yours - intertwining your fingers tightly in a way you wish didn't bring you so much comfort. He pulls on it, mumbling something that sounds like "don't go" in a tiny, pleading voice. You're unsure of whether he's actually awake or even knows what he's saying, but you still do as he says, sitting back down and keeping his hand in yours. With your other hand, you brush a couple stray strands of hair away from his forehead allowing you to get a better look at his face - which you're realising you've missed a lot more than you realised.

Maybe tomorrow when he wakes up, you'll get to properly talk about this, about what happened between you two. Or maybe he'll be too embarrassed and will play it all of as a big joke. Or maybe he'll be too ashamed to even talk to you, instead leaving without saying so much as a word.

The possibilities play out in your head one after another, but the only thing you can focus on is the fact that, at least for now, he's here, lying on your couch sleeping peacefully, and you are too, holding his hand. And at least for tonight, the two of you are together and everything is alright.

[formula-nyoom]

I'm Proud of You

Pairing: Platonic!Grid x Fem!Driver!Reader

Summary: Being the youngest and newest driver to the grid is not an easy adjustment to make and it ends up taking a toll on you. Thankfully some of the other drivers on the grid are there to look out for you.

A/N: Was going to wait till Saturday to post this, but I had a shit day today so I decided to post it now. Hope you enjoy!

~~~

No one really knew what Mercedes was thinking when they announced that they were signing you, an F2 rookie who placed 6th in the Formula 2 Championship, as the one to take the 2nd Mercedes seat. Everyone expected you to be named a reserve driver, so that you could prepare for the jump to F1. Yet here you were, jumping straight into the deep end. Even after you heard the news that you would be racing in Formula One, you were left more with shock and confusion rather than excitement. 

Sure, you had done a couple of test drives for Mercedes and had participated in an F1 practice session or two, but you didn’t think that was enough to put you in contention for a Formula One seat. 

But the media thought otherwise, and so did Mercedes. 

Both your friends and family tried to reassure you that you were good enough to race in Formula One, and you had seen countless interviews of Toto Wolf saying that he had made the right decision in signing you.

But none of that could take away the fact that all eyes were now on you. 

The first female to race in Formula One, and now the youngest on the grid.

The season hadn’t even started and yet you felt like Atlas holding the world weight of pressure that was placed upon your shoulders. You now have something to prove. And everyone was waiting for you to either fly or fall.

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t find the courage to cross the turnstile that led into the paddock during the first race weekend of the season. Crossing over would make everything real. And you would be doing it alone, as both your family and your manager weren't able to get to the track till later in the day. 

“Did you forget your badge on the first day?” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Charles and Pierre.

 “You can just jump over the gate. Yuki does it all the time.” Pierre said. 

 “No, I have my badge…I’m just nervous to enter the paddock.” You said, motioning with your head to the turnstiles.

 “What makes you so nervous?” Charles asked.

“There’s a lot of people. And cameras. And people with cameras. I feel like I’m gonna get swarmed as soon as my foot crosses the entrance.” You said.

 “You’re not wrong. The media doesn’t really know the definition of personal space.” Charles said, taking a sip of his coffee. “If you want, I can act as a buffer and draw the attention away while Pierre helps you get past.”

 “Would that work? I just want to get to the Mercedes hospitality.”

“Oh trust me, the media loves Charles. They’ll be too focused on getting pictures of him to see us walk by.” Pierre said. You looked back at the people past the entrance and there seemed to be more than when you last looked. 

 “Well…if you’re sure it will work then we might as well try.” You said. Charles smiled and gave you a nod. He then took the sunglasses that were hanging on his hat and put them on before entering the paddock. Immediately, the people that had cameras flocked to Charles and started to take his picture as he tried to walk through the paddock. You and Pierre waited a couple moments to build enough distance between you and Charles before the two of you entered the paddock. You clutched the straps of your bag tightly, expecting the nearby paparazzi to turn around and immediately start taking pictures of you and Pierre, but they were too focused on Charles.  

Pierre’s hand hovered over your shoulder as he tried to block you from most of the cameras while guiding you through the paddock. While the two of you managed to pass Charles without getting noticed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, seeing Charles surrounded by so many people trying to take his picture. Eventually, you and Pierre managed to make it to the Mercedes hospitality building.

“Is it always going to be like this?” You asked Pierre.

 “Unfortunately, yes. Especially since you’re the newest on the grid. I recommend you invest in a good pair of sunglasses. But I’m proud of you for getting past your first swarm of paparazzi.” Pierre said, ruffling your hair. You laughed and swatted his hand away as Charles walked up to the two of you.

 “Whew! Thank god Lewis walked in. I felt like those reporters and paparazzi would never leave.” Charles said.

 “Sorry for making you go through that.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. 

“Pas de soucis. I’m used to it and know how to handle them. Though I will advise that you never enter the paddock by yourself. The reporters are like vultures.” Charles said. “Anyway, we will see you at the press conference, no?”

 “Yep. I’ll see you there.” You said. Charles patted your shoulder before him and Pierre headed to their own team's hospitality. 

~~~

You were beginning to hate the press conferences that you had to go to. Any question that was directed towards you involved your performance on track, or lack thereof as some reporters like to put it. You were getting tired of having to answer questions that made you feel like a failure.

“This question is for (Y/N). We’re now five races into the season and you’ve been continuously out qualified and out placed by your teammate, George? Is there a certain struggle that you’re having with the car that may be the cause of this?”

If you could walk away from this question, you would. But instead you stayed in your seat and picked up the microphone next to you. Damn Mercedes PR training.

 “There’s still some learning with the car. The engineers have said that the car isn’t up to the standards they want it to be, so I am struggling a bit on track.” You said, giving your best PR approved answer that you could manage.

“But would it be safe to say that you are under performing at Mercedes in comparison to your teammate?” The reporter asked. You tried to steal your expression and act like the comment didn’t bother you.

 “What kind of question is that?” It wasn’t you that asked it, but Lando, who was sitting to your right. You looked at him with some confusion. So did the reporter.

“Is there something you would like to add, Lando?”

“Yea. You can’t say she’s underperforming when she’s a rookie that has only completed five races.” Lando said, an upset expression clear on his face. The reporter cleared his throat.

 “I’m just saying, some have doubts that Mercedes were too hasty in signing an F2 rookie and I wanted to know if that was being reflected in (Y/N)’s driving.” The reporter said, trying to control the situation

 “I think we already know your opinion on Mercedes' decision based on the questions you ask.” Carlos said, who was sitting next to Lando. “I agree with Lando that it’s unfair to judge (Y/N) based on her first five races.”

 “I’d say she’s actually doing pretty good for a rookie, considering she’s been able to score points in two out of the 5 races she’s done so far.” Lando said.

 “Much more than you have ever done.” Carlos said to the reporter. You tried to hide the smile that was slowly forming on your face but inevitably failed as you picked your microphone back up.

“To my two fellow drivers points, I think you’re discounting me too early. I will admit that there is still a learning curve and with the continuous upgrades that Mercedes keeps bringing to the car, I am constantly having to adjust to all the new additions while also trying to get used to driving a Formula One car every other weekend.” You said, making direct eye contact with the reporter. “But I will eventually get used to the car. And when I do, I think I will be able to match George and possibly start out qualifying.”

That seemed to silence the reporter, as he sat back down. It also seemed to signify the end of the press conference as reporters started to pack their things and you and the other drivers sitting on the couch with you got up and left the room.

“Mate, I’m so proud of you and how you handled that reporter.” Lando said once you were out of the room. He placed his hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

 “I was ready to walk out of the press conference when I heard that question. Why do these reporters always have to compare me to George?”

 “Because that's what they do. All of us get compared to our teammates because our teammates are seen as our biggest competition.” Carlos said. “You’re gonna get it more because you’re new.”

“Just remember that you can refuse to answer any questions that make you uncomfortable.” Lando said. 

 “Even the sexist ones?” You asked. Carlos and Lando nodded their heads.

“Especially the sexist ones.” Carlos said.

 “Better yet, I’ll answer them for you in the most ridiculous manner so that way they’ll stop asking you questions like that.” Lando said, making you laugh.

~~~

So many more races. Too many races. How does a Formula One driver get through all these races and have a chance to calm down? You were used to things going fast, but lately you just wanted a chance to slow down and breathe. 

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in an empty VIP room, looking out the window at a mostly empty racetrack. Phone in hand. Staring at the clock that displayed the timezone back at home.

2:00AM. Your parents are definitely asleep right now. It’s not a good time to call them, no matter how much you want to. 

You were so focused on staring at your phone, you didn’t notice that Max had walked in.

“Sadly I don’t think drivers count as VIPs at the races they have to participate in.” Max said as he sat down next to you, a Redbull in his hand.

 “It’s the only place that I can find privacy and some peace and quiet.” You said still staring at your phone.

2:01AM.

You turned your phone off and let out a sigh, placing it down next to you.

 “Something the matter?” Max asked. You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden a 3-time World Champion with your upset thoughts, that was for your non-existent therapist. But then again, maybe talking to someone who has been in your position before may make you feel a bit better.

“I haven’t found a good time to call my parents since the start of the season.” You said. “They were able to make it to my first race, which was amazing. I was really glad they could come…but with so many races on the calendar, it’s hard for them to come to all of them, and all the changing time zones makes it hard to find a good time to call them.” You told him. “I miss talking to them.”

Max looked at you, took in how you were hugging your knees. Max sometimes forgets that you're now the youngest driver on the grid. On the track he sees you as competition, but now he sees you as the overwhelmed rookie that you looked like right now.

“I understand what you're feeling. It does get overwhelming a lot of times.” He said. You turned to him.

 “How do you deal with it?”

“No matter what country we are in, I try to find a day or time where I can get the farthest away from being a race car driver. A spot that’s farthest away from the track where I’m not “Max Verstappen, The Red Bull Driver”, but just “Max”.” He said.

 “Don’t you get recognized wherever you go?” You asked

“Absolutely. But being away from the track, even for an hour, makes me less overwhelmed. And in regards to wanting to talk to your parents, yes finding a time to communicate is hard, but sometimes you just have to throw timezones out the window and call your parents. Even if you can only talk to them for five minutes, it’s still five minutes that you get to talk to them.” Max explained. 

You thought about what Max said. It would make you feel a bit guilty, waking your parents up in the middle of the night just because you wanted to talk to them. But at the same time, sometimes they’re the only people that could make you feel better. You looked back down at your phone.

2:05 AM

You’d be ok with just five minutes.

 “I think I’m gonna call my parents.” You said to Max. He smiled and gave you a nod before standing up.

 “I’ll let you have your privacy. But my driver’s room is open if you want to talk about anything except racing.” Max said before leaving the room. You smiled at him before calling your parents.

~~~

Finally you had finished a race with what you thought was a good race result. P6 was your highest placement so far this season and it was something you should be proud of. But even if you thought it was a good result, you knew that people were going to comment that George had gotten P4, placing ahead of you again. To you, it felt like no matter how high you climbed up the grid, if George finished in front of you, your result wasn’t something to be proud of. 

You were knocked out of your thoughts by someone bumping your shoulder. It was Oscar walking alongside you. The fact that he was looking directly at you made you assume the bump was intentional to get your attention.

“Proud of you.” Oscar said. “This was just like that one season of Formula 2 we raced in together.”

You scoffed but smiled.

 “Yea, except I now have the knowledge not to shunt the car into the back of yours.” You said. You spent most of thid race chasing Oscar’s rear wing and were glad that you didn’t do what you had just said.

“That time was an accident. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” Oscar said. The two of you stopped walking as you got closer to where the podium interviews were taking place. The two of you watched as Charles was getting interviewed about his winning result. 

“So am I gonna see you up on that podium this season?” Oscar asked. You didn’t want to shake your head, but your body acted on instinct. You have been shaking your head a lot these days.

 “That seems unlikely. I haven’t been able to match George’s pace at all and he keeps out qualifying me.” You said. Oscar looked at you confused.

 “What are you on about? You were only 2 seconds off George and that was only because I was in between the two of you.” He said. You sighed.

“Yea but it was still 2 seconds behind George. It doesn’t matter how much time is between the two of us, if I’m behind him that’s all the media is going to care about.” You said. “I’ll never have the pace to pass him.”

“Hey!” Oscar grabbed your shoulders so that you would face him. “You have the pace. You’ve been building it up this whole season. At the start you were what? 10 seconds behind him? Now you’re two. Soon there’s going to be no gap because you’ll be ahead of him at some point. It’s bound to happen.”

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing down, or the fact that Oscar was saying something you had been wanting to hear from your race engineer, or your team princpal, or hell, even it’s something the media should be noticing: that you’re catching up and proving your pace. Oscar’s words were making you feel like you belonged on the grid.

 “You think so?” You asked, needing the confirmation. 

“I know so. Screw what everyone else says.” Oscar said. “Are you proud of your P6?”

 You looked back at your car, then at the car of your teammate’s before your eyes landed back at Charles. You’d be in his spot at some point this season, you just knew it.

 “Yea. I’m proud of myself.”

[heavenbarnes]

Thinking of being Ghost's fiance and making invite the 141 over for dinner to finally meet them and he begrudgingly accepts because anything to make u happy and they're still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that he's engaged

mmm omg your mind 🫶🏼

finally getting older bf!simon to have the 141 around your dinner was the equivalent of pulling teeth.

come to think, pulling teeth would’ve been easier.

“well fuck me for wanting to meet the people the man i’m marrying spends 90% of his time with”

“sweet’art y’know i don’t like bringing work ‘ome”

then you’d gone and put your hands on your hips with just one (1) eyebrow raised-

and the lads were knocking at his fucking door.

“gidday- don’t fuckin’ start w’me”

“some bloody way to greet y’guests, big man”

as he corralled all their snide little remarks about “didnae know ye’ owned a nice shirt” everyone managed to find their best behaviour upon your appearance.

it might’ve had something to do with the stunned silence.

when he’d begrudgingly invited them, they’d all been in a little bit of shock- first of all, ghost had a fiancé? second of all, ghost is letting us into his home?

then it all round off with, third of all-

ghost’s fiancé was a fucking looker, that’s for sure.

sweet, nice, bloody easy on the eyes- how the hell had he managed that?

you were just happy to meet the closest things to friends that simon had.

price took lead by drawing you into a hug, thanking you for your hospitality. followed closely by a sweet talking gaz who was already making your cheeks warm with his manners.

naturally, johnny had to chime in with some stupid little-

“nae wonder L.t disnae want us knowing about ye’, i’d keep ye’ all t’maself too”

he’s too slow to avoid simon’s flat palm coming up the side of his head, but it doesn’t dissuade him much.

he’s peachy fucking keen to meet you.

simon eats his tea with a tense jaw, rolling his eyes every time someone makes you laugh a little too long, tells another ‘embarrassing’ story about him.

he also keeps his palm firmly on your knee, nervous twitch of a thumb running circles over your skin.

when you pop out to the kitchen to fix dessert, they’re on him like starved dogs.

“all this time and not so much as a bloody photo?”

“kinda’ photos i’m gettin’ aren’t f’you lots eyes”

johnny nearly falls out of his seat.

you can hear them whispering all the way from the kitchen, for a bunch of SAS guys- they’re not very subtle.

simon’s got one ear on the shit chatter coming from his team and the other on the kitchen, waiting for the slightest sign that he might be able to join you.

it comes- in the form of a gasp from you followed by “ow fuck”

simon’s out of his seat like a bullet.

“what’s wrong- what ‘ave y’done?”

you know the 141 are watching, doesn’t take a genius to see the way they’re all craning their necks around the kitchen doorframe.

“i’m fine, si- just a little burn from the pan”

“lemme’ see, gimme’ y’hand”

so the 141 see their ghost, unshakeable mountain of a man- a face they never see-

and they see his face, and they see genuine fear on it.

they see simon.

your simon.

“i’m telling you it’s fine, si”

“i’ll make that call, alright”

and they’re all looking at each other across the table, trying to decide whether to be impressed or even a little jealous- they’re leaning towards jealous.

so instead they settle on taking the absolute piss out of him.

not that he minds-

before you could even reach your chair he was pulling you into his lap- having you eat dessert perched on his thigh.

as you settle back into his chest, you could swear you feel him laugh.

that hand settles back on your knee again but there aren’t nervous circles anymore.

more like gentle squeezes.

your simon.

right at home.

[possessedmen]

The Spell of Desire

In the dim light of the evening, Ezra, a reserved art history major, returned to his university dorm room, his mind preoccupied with his unrequited feelings for his roommate, Brandon. Brandon was the epitome of a college jock—muscular, charismatic, and, to Ezra's knowledge, straight. Their shared living space was a constant reminder of what Ezra couldn't have.

As Ezra entered, he froze at the sight before him. There, sprawled on his bed, was Brandon, or so he thought, in all his naked glory. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner, and Brandon's usual confident demeanor seemed replaced by a strange vulnerability.

"Brandon, what the hell?" Ezra managed, his voice a mix of shock and intrigue.

The man on the bed shifted, sitting up with a look of flustered confusion. "Hey, Ezra, uh, I was just... I thought I'd surprise you. You know, with a, um, prank. Yeah, a prank," he said, his voice not quite matching Brandon's usual deep timbre. It was higher, more nervous.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A prank? Since when do you prank me by getting naked on my bed?"

"Well, you know, I've been feeling a bit adventurous lately. Wanted to spice things up around here. Plus, it's hot, and I thought, why not cool off a bit?" The faux-Brandon chuckled awkwardly, trying to mimic the easy laugh of the jock.

Ezra couldn't help but let his gaze linger over the body that was supposed to be Brandon's. There was something off, something not quite right in the way he moved, the way he spoke. "You're acting weird, Brandon. What's really going on?"

"Okay, okay, you got me. I'm not Brandon. I'm Theo. Theo from your literature class. I... I used this old spell book I found in the library. I swapped bodies with Brandon because I've been crushing on you for ages. I wanted to be close to you, to... to see if you felt the same."

Ezra's eyes widened, the pieces falling into place. "You swapped bodies with Brandon? With black magic?"

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy. I'm sorry, I'll reverse it, I just—"

"No, wait," Ezra said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "If you're going to be Brandon, let's make this believable. What would Brandon say now?"

Theo, still in shock, tried to think on his feet. "Uh, he'd probably say something like, 'Hey, roomie, you caught me. Now, what are you gonna do about it?'"

Ezra chuckled, "That's more like it." He began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned physique slowly, deliberately. "And what would Brandon do next?"

Theo swallowed hard, his borrowed body looking out of place with the expression of a shy nerd. "He'd probably... um, flex a bit, show off, right?" He awkwardly flexed one of Brandon's muscular arms.

"Close, but let's make it more... intimate," Ezra suggested, letting his shirt fall to the floor. He climbed onto the bed, his body close to Theo's, the heat between them palpable. "So, 'Brandon', what do you think of this?"

Theo's eyes followed Ezra's movements, his breathing quickening. "I... I think you look good, Ezra. Really good."

"Shh, just keep being Brandon," Ezra instructed, a playful smirk on his lips as he leaned in, capturing Theo's lips in a kiss that was both exploratory and demanding. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, "What would Brandon say if I kissed him like that?"

Theo, encouraged by Ezra's seduction, began to settle into Brandon's identity. "He'd probably say, 'Damn, Ezra, you're full of surprises. But I like 'em.'" His voice was gaining confidence, mimicking Brandon's casual arrogance.

Ezra laughed softly, his breath warm against Theo's skin. "And what would he do?"

Theo, now more playful, pulled Ezra closer, his hands finding his waist with a newfound boldness. "He'd pull you in like this, and say, 'You wanna play, roomie? Let's play.'"

Ezra let out a low moan, "Good. Now, what would Brandon want next?"

Theo, channeling Brandon's confident, friendly arrogance, whispered, "He'd want you to join him, to make this moment even more real." His voice was steady now, playful and teasing.

Ezra's eyes sparkled with desire. "Is that so? Well, let's not disappoint 'Brandon' then." With a fluid motion, Ezra undid his belt, letting his pants slide off, joining Theo on the bed fully. "What's next, 'Brandon'?"

Theo, feeling the heat of Ezra's body against his own, grinned, "He'd probably say, 'You're making this too easy, Ezra. But I like it.' And then maybe he'd..." Theo hesitated for a moment before continuing with a smirk, "He'd start kissing your neck, right?"

Ezra tilted his head back slightly, giving Theo access, his voice low and seductive, "Go on then, show me how 'Brandon' does it."

With a newfound confidence, Theo leaned in, his lips brushing against Ezra's neck, planting kisses that were firm and teasing, just as Brandon might do. He felt the thrill of embodying the jock's persona, the playful arrogance coming naturally now. "You like that, huh, Ezra?" Theo asked, his voice now a perfect mimic of Brandon's casual, cocky tone.

Ezra chuckled, his voice a soft moan, "Yeah, I do. What’s next Brandon?"

Theo's hands roamed over Ezra's back, pulling him closer with a confident grip. "I'd probably want to feel more of you, to make sure you're as into this as I am." His fingers traced the line of Ezra's spine with a deliberate slowness, savoring the reaction he elicited.

Ezra, feeling the shift in Theo's demeanor, whispered, "And what would you say if we went further?"

Theo, fully immersed in Brandon's identity, smirked, "Finally, took you long enough, man. Let's see what you've got." His tone was playful, almost challenging, as he watched Ezra's hands move to the blanket covering him.

Ezra smiled, his hands moving to pull the blanket away, revealing Theo fully. "Then let's not keep 'Brandon' waiting." As the blanket fell, Ezra took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with desire. "You look good, 'Brandon'. Really good."

"You know, Ezra, you've always been too fucking quiet for your own good," Theo said, his voice a low, teasing growl that was unmistakably Brandon's. "Let's see if we can make you scream tonight."

Ezra, his heart racing with anticipation, looked up at Theo with a mix of excitement and surrender. "Show me then, 'Brandon'."

Theo smirked, the cocky grin that was so characteristic of Brandon spreading across his face. He leaned down, his lips capturing Ezra's in a kiss that was commanding, leaving no room for doubt about who was in charge. His hands roamed over Ezra's body with purpose, guiding him to lie back on the bed.

With a fluid motion, Theo positioned himself above Ezra, his movements confident and assured. "You ready for this, roomie? 'Cause I'm gonna fuck you like you've never been fucked before," he said, his voice dripping with playful arrogance and a vulgar edge.

Ezra nodded, his breath hitching as he felt Theo's presence so close, so dominant. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Theo, now fully embracing the role of Brandon, didn't hesitate. He took Ezra's hands, pinning them gently above his head, his gaze intense. "Good, because I'm not holding back, you little slut," he whispered, his tone a mix of promise and challenge.

The room was filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the rustle of sheets, and the low, appreciative moans from Ezra as Theo explored his body with a deliberate slowness, savoring each reaction. Theo's touch was firm, his movements those of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was Ezra.

As Theo prepared to take the lead, he maintained eye contact, ensuring Ezra was with him every step of the way. "You're gonna love this, Ezra," Theo said, his voice confident, as he positioned himself.

Ezra, caught in the throes of desire, could only nod, his body responding eagerly to Theo's dominance. The moment was charged with an electric intensity as Theo, embodying Brandon's assertiveness and vulgar charm, began to move with a rhythm that was both commanding and raw.

Their connection deepened with each thrust, each movement a testament to Theo's complete immersion into Brandon's identity. Ezra's moans grew louder, his hands gripping the sheets as Theo took him to heights of pleasure he hadn't known before.

"You like that, huh, you dirty boy?" Theo teased, his voice a husky whisper in Ezra's ear, maintaining the playful arrogance that had become his second nature. "Tell me how much you fucking love it."

"I... I love it," Ezra managed between gasps, his body arching into Theo's with every motion. "You act like him so well, Theo. You've made him so fucking edgy, and I love it."

As they reached the peak of their passion, Theo's confidence never wavered, his control over the situation absolute. The culmination of their encounter was explosive, leaving them both breathless and satisfied, as Theo came inside Ezra with a groan that was all Brandon's vulgar satisfaction.

In the quiet that followed, Ezra turned to Theo, his eyes soft with affection. "You know, if you could really stay as Brandon, I wouldn't mind at all. You could stay like this forever."

Theo chuckled, still in character, playing up the confusion with an ironic twist. "Stay as Brandon? What are you talking about, man? I am Brandon, you idiot. Always have been," he replied with a smirk, his tone playful yet convincing in its irony.

Then, as he lay there, still inside Ezra, Theo added with a mix of sincerity and vulgarity, "But you know what, Ezra? Your hole makes me crazy like no girl ever did. Fucking you, it's... it's something else, man."

Ezra laughed, the warmth of the moment enveloping them. "Right, 'Brandon', right. But seriously, you're incredible like this."

Theo, or 'Brandon', pulled Ezra closer, their bodies still intertwined. "Well, then, let's keep this going, roomie. Because I'm not going anywhere." And with that, they drifted into a contented sleep, the boundaries of their reality blurred by the magic of the night, the playful deception of identity, and the unique intimacy they had discovered.