#my guy is running on so much sleep deprivation and exhaustion

[confused-wanderer]

Hear me out: Bruce immediately thinks Damian is Dick’s when Talia drops him off.

All of Bruce’s son’s, adopted though they may be, bear a strong resemblance to Bruce. Something that Dick also exhibits. Bruce’s playboy charm, his flirtatious flings: Also something Dick embodies. Dick who turns up the charm and really leans into the persona when he wants to piss Bruce off. Even if it includes disregard for the protocols and rules Bruce has in place to ward off anything that could be traced to their vigilante identities.

You can’t tell me he doesn’t take one look at Damian and realise that perhaps this was the product of his last major argument with Dick a a while ago. His physical features might have differed a bit from Dick himself, however Dick’s family was Roma, so Bruce doesn’t think much of it . Damian held the same murderous instincts, the same acrobatic ease, and tiny figure reminiscent of Dick’s childhood days. When Talia tells Bruce Damian’s his son, Bruce takes one look at this murder hungry gremlin and connects the dots : .. he’s my son’s son?

- over text -

Bruce: Dick. We have talked about this. Safety always comes first. Please come to the Manor by tonight. Alfred and I will be waiting.

Dick: ?

*many many hours after not receiving a reply and one deduction later*

Dick: So he’s yours.

Bruce: ?

Dick: We’ve talked about this B. Safety always comes first. Please come to the Manor by tonight. Alfred and I will be waiting.

[loneworldgazer]

"his mutt."

pairing: Harley Sawyer X toy!reader

cont: You, his assistant gave up your parts oh so willingly to him. Why are you surprised that you've been turned into a toy, did you think you were special?

a/n: this was crazy, I'll dissappear again for a year trust!!! Seriously tho, writing is fun but my lifestyle is so busy now brahhhh. Edit: closing my eyes as I post this cause I'm not sure if I went on a tangent writing all of this or it's actually good AHHHHH

tags: reader IS AN ADULT, nsfw, groping, degradation, sadism, delusion, fingering, no sex (unfortunately), no specific gentilia mentioned guys, first time writing slight smut??? Idk man Harley is not a good man obviiii, I also want to make it clear that THIS IS NOT BEASTILITY

๑ ~⁠♪

"L/N, would you give yourself up in the name of science?"

That snapped you out your daze from the whirring of the water faucet sanitizing the bloody scalpels. The blood turn to clouds and made your eye twitch back to Harley who had his hand on a VHS tape ready to record another log. That prompted you to reply quickly.

You straightened up, wanting to give a lengthy answer that would somehow impress the Doctor or at best, make him bat an eyelash at you. Experimenting was the reason why you decided to be a scientist, Playtime Co. was where it was home for a job like yours. Going into the unknown required some unethicality and pushing past morals, too much of it is too far that you don't even notice. In the long run, you had smeared blood that wasn't yours all over yourself without realising. Research was the hook, the line were your meticulous gloved hands on a body and the sinker was the Doctor acknowledging the labour that you do.

This place was a house that echoes off with tormented residents and you're simply one of the owners that bang at the walls so they can keep quiet, the smudged handprints had been painted over with a new coat. In this place where you sit at your appointed seat in the family couch, your eyes look around for him.

Would it be plain dreadful to admit that the praise one man could give had you licking and cleaning up the dirt of his sins until he told you it was enough? It was not said but his precense was a mantra that you obedientally chant.

He was a needy man, quite funny to describe someone assertive as him but he depended on you. Or should you be careful with a mind as dangerous as his; an intelligence that leaves you choked up for air. It's bad to dream that he treats you differently but his eyes would linger more on you before he tells you to pass the data.

The voices of everybody you talked to had been a blurry memory ever since you were holed up in this cold, pristine hell of machines and sanitizers. The exhaustion of pushing out the next new toy was the thrill you enjoyed from work, pain and anguish from failure that was simply a query to overtake. It was exhilaration to you. But that wasn't it either.

In conclusion, you had no answer. You couldn't outwit a man who shifted the system of a factory that was close to beggary not because this joyous, welcoming environment of a toy company kept people away but because of the risks that he so challenged. This sole place was pitiful, money was a topic that never left anybody's tongue; the people were reflected like the experiments, scurrying around like rats before the only light that reaches them is the glow of a scalpel.

Perking up, you blinked back the sleep that threatened to overcome you; fingers automatically popping open a bottle of melatonin.

"Yes, Dr. Sawyer. I'd do it in a heartbeat if you were to ask of me."

You didn't notice such a desperate, deprived answer came out of you before the pill dropped from your fingers. The clatter made you drop your head sharply at the ground before shakily putting down the bottle. You swallowed the bile in your throat, wanting to correct yourself, extinguish a bit of that idiocy that you just spouted but what comes next make you gingerly look at him.

It was a short chuckle at your statement, he never did turn his head while talking to you. It was unclear if it was a humourless chuckle or he found you amusing or slow-witted. From many words you could've picked out, why did it have to be those words? Your heart rate starts picking up that you gripped your chest. Maybe, there was an implication to what was uttered, a deeper meaning on how you truly felt for the Doctor.

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

Harley Sawyer removed his gloves before he inspected what he had worked on alone. No scientist remained in the room with him, only you. He takes out a tape before he sits down next to the motionless experiment. He starts, his fingers tapping against the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. Responds to sound and light at best. Standard for experiments who are freshly experimented on"

He continues, his eyes flicking at the experiment.

"This experiment will be different, the style choice separate from actual toys in production. This one, will have a humanoid body. Though, it is far different from Miss Delight."

His fingers brush against the experiment's arm. He articulates his next words slowly.

"The idea is nothing short of obscene, a human with dog features. One that will sweep up this company's mess as it intends to do, it's a form of hybrid."

He nearly loses himself, this company was a pain in the ass; his humourless laugh turning almost insane. He could order the scared scientists under him to bow wow for him with a flick of his wrist since he had the ability to but he holds back, remembering what he planned to say. The bark of laughter he let out made the toy squirm, squirming to breathe, to move or even live. Its chest heaves so heavily and Harley stares down at it.

This log was becoming more and more unprofessional, it tickles him. This is why science was more suited for him since creative thinking led him to dig deep into his desires instead.

"It'll be a part of security alongside the other toys. If other results please me then I may move 1352 up a rank."

He writes on the report, his hand writing faster than the pen as this adrenaline he had in him, it was anticipation for this experiment to succeed. You haven't uttered a word ever since the start of the experiment but it was quite alright, he'll wait. Oh, he will definitely wait.

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

He heard the certain germ quietly pattering to and fro in this sanctuary he deems his, his vessels moving in place for the finale.

Guess Yarnaby couldn't keep them away for that long, it was quite predictable. He must've met his end already, considering the fact that this employee was anything but normal. He almost run out of toys to set upon the intruder, letting his vessel rest beside the machinery where his brain was.

But there was one, one he kept away from the company for so long, clenched hands to let this keepsake stay hidden.

This toy, the one kneeling on the ground where wires were sprawled all over the floor. It kept their head down resting against the knee of his vessel. Their fluffy tail thumping against the ground, still with energy even if there wasn't much meat to chew on anymore. His eye creased in satisfaction at how this one was still alive only because they were under his rule.

His call on making a hybrid sated his hunger but only by the tip of the iceberg. They were hopelessly mopey at times, it was delightfully pathetic. He traced the tape, the final log he managed to do before he was made into this lamentable piece of metal and sparks. He puts it into a nearby television, watching the pup's ear perk up to his voice and crawl towards the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. In relation, this one's cognitive function had worked terrifically but it can't speak. It's quite ironic, seeing that it reflects the person whom I experimented on."

The clinking of the surgical instruments could be heard with the scribbling of paper. He rasps on lightly, he should call this mutt by a name; a special one. One he never said before followed by a dark chuckle.

"Isn't that right, Y/N? Best get farmiliar with that name, I've made an effort to remember your name and it'd be a shame if you forgot."

You yipped, scratching against the table with your ears flattened against your head as he scoffs. You were moved to Playcare like he intended to. He only thought of moving you to work alongside before he got turned into organs, it was a terrible fate considering he was close to the fun part.

He wasn't surprised when you survived the Hour of Joy, you were supposed to. Being his assistant and working aside such dilligence steered you to the right path, that big brain of yours still working in this different body. Even if you looked human, the plastic on your limbs didn't make you struggle; you scoped out this graveyard like a trained dog. It was surely a struggle to make you a human who just had dog features or one who had actual hind legs because either way,

You just look much better kneeling before him.

The other scientists would always be talking behind his back or give him weary looks to what he wanted next, not that he cared much. It was an observation that became a repetitive cycle that it bored him more than experiments that turn out to be failures but you, you stoked a dangerous flame of interest in his soul.

You come close, passing notes and scalpels and touching skin to skin. It was delectable having an assistant that was so predictable and an oddball that only stuck close to him like a pet.

When Yarnaby had found you, hiding up high in the vents; you accidentally peeked out at the wrong time. This mass of yarn was dragging you by the nape kicking and screaming. The lion growls, knowing it shouldn't harm you but your kicks were deathly. He throws you down infront of the Doctor's feet and you growled, ears flattened from aggression.

He kneels, extending a hand and your demeanour changes so quickly.

"Here, pup. Remember me? I'm sure you'd recognise me even if it's just my voice?"

You struggled up to your knees, your chest heaves like crazy to the realisation then bowed completely on the ground.

Incredible, such quick response like you've realised who you were supposed to worship. He stepped close before he pulls you up by the hair and you whined so prettily.

"You do remember what to do, respect me and I'll reward you. Isn't that exciting?"

Utterly demeaning were the words spoken to this pup who stared up at him like he hung the stars, it was like there was only one thing on its mind. That word, reward. Harley never gave away any strong praise or anything, it could be anything and you were bursting at the seams. It was like you never changed.

The vessel's head snapped at the television as the tape ends and the dog bow wowed for more. He was aware that his form now was nothing compared to when he was a human. He thought of something that made him come close to you. Did you ever fantasies about him?

He hardly thinks about these type of things but everything that comes to unnervingly stroke at somebody's weak spots were accounted for and he was quite intrigued at the thought that you were a little perv if you ever were.

Those quick glances, soft sighs to continue focusing on the projects and the furrow at your brows when you think about how you've started at him so much were all noticed by him. Do they go more than that? He didn't go beyond experiments so he doesn't know if somebody like you were to imagine him in such a scandalous manners.

He touches your thigh, rubbing it and you nearly short circuited. He ran his hand up and down teasingly, nearing your private regions that you flinch away from.

"Come now, mutt. Don't you want to feel me?"

He does it again but now holding you close to him. Metal was what you felt but that heartbeat of yours was audible against him. Harley didn't know that you were disappointed. You wanted to feel the real deal, the intimacy you both would have if you two were still... Human.

His hot breath would be aimed down your neck while his warm hands would make you grip the bedsheets, the eye contact with this man would leave you breathless. But you weren't opposed to the pleasure because he was still him, the Doctor you'll follow till the end of the road; till the ends of hell.

He rubs his palm down your chest then his thumbs press against your stomach down to your hips. You salivated, it was detestable and flattering. These desire of yours should've been a reward from the very start but he only thought to commend your actions, wrapping your head around his words. Nevertheless, this was rewarding for him anyways since this was a discovery he will enjoy from his sweet assistant that was so on edge.

His cold steel hands was felt, proding at the inner most deeper parts of you. His hands go even lower which makes you slightly jump but he tutted, smacking at your thigh though he wasn't completely turnt off by it. He let your sensations go haywire as his hand rubbed between your legs, cupping your nether regions and making you yip pathetically.

Harley held you in his lap, holding both your thighs apart while he stroked at his creation. Those late nights which he remembered where he drawn out the details of your genitals, envisioning how it look when he creates every bit of your new form. Those pencil strokes of pure perversion lingers in him when you drip on his hands, it was wonderful of how he planned out everything even the synthetic juices you'll spurt when you feel ecstacy.

He wished he could taste it, his vessel tapping at the glass where his mouth would be; it would fill him with such bliss to lick it all up. Just seeing you tremble from his fingers make him feel powerful, you were just so easy. He had you from the start.

He touched the juices, slipping it in your hole and feeling you react to his fingers and clench tightly. He tried fixing your vocal cords when your body was still in testing. Moments where he dared to cut open your throat and inspect again and again but to no avail. He marvels at the thought of you actually speaking in this form, pleading and calling out his name but he settled with putting his hand around your neck and feeding off the vibrations your throat does.

He hits deep, his fingers thrusting against your inner walls that he watched in awe and how you squirted all over his fingers, he chuckled and turned his head before you clumsily get it all over his TV face. He didn't stop there, caressing the tip of your senses and making you scuffle your feet at the floor like you're asking him to stop.

Overstimulation was a part of every experiment to push past boundaries, it was his way of knowing whether the experiment was made for pain and ready to handle forces against it and you did so well not to fall apart.

"Doctor!"

He nearly falls onto you in exhilaration, your voice so garbled and loud with pleasure and pumped deep into your G-spot. That's it, come again for him and he'll feel something else other than joy. All you needed was a push before these expectations of his were met. He felt you grab at his robe, clenching it in your hand. You swore you saw stars other than the headiness of the Doctor being so intimate with you, this body of yours might shatter at the all consuming ache if being bent to his will.

"Come for me once again, mutt."

A scream ripped apart from you that you do what he says, exhaling every bit of your desperation before falling faint. Limp body lay against his lap, head lolling out for air and consciousness as he steadies you and moved you to the floor. Your fluffy tail thumped tirelessly against the ground. With an inhale, the Nightmare Critters pop up to his whistle and they moved you to a more comfortable position and he moves for the final showdown.

He can't help but scoff, even if it came out empty. There was a dark smirk on his face and he smoothed down his robes, he mayhaps pushed your reward for too long.

He walks away from you and didn't look back, now he continues his long term mission. He'll be expecting bigger things from you now, much more.

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

[annafayeink]

All I Ever Wanted

Summary: After weeks of late nights and playful banter, Lu and his project partner find themselves drinking a little too much on Valentine’s Day and spilling some unfiltered truths.

Warnings & tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, College AU, Mutual Pining, Drunken Confessions, Truth or Dare Gone Wrong (or Right?), STEM Nerds in Love, One-Sided Pining (but not really)

Wordcount: 11217 (it's a long one for me...)

Read on AO3

The hum of the computer lab had become their second heartbeat through weeks of late-night debugging sessions, endless energy drinks and heated debates over syntax errors.

Lu leaned back in his chair. The flickering glow of monitors cast a tired haze over his face as he stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “I swear, if I have to debug one more line of code, I’m gonna start throwing things,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Across the table, his project partner smirked, barely glancing up from her screen. “That’s funny. I was just thinking about how much fun it would be to fix your broken code for the third time today.”

Lu scoffed, spinning in his chair to face her. “Excuse me, but my code is art."

She snorted. "Your code could be catching flames in a paper bag on someone’s porch, and you know it."

He laughed out loud, but exhaustion weighed on both of them. The project was nearly done, but the stress of perfecting it had left them both frayed at the edges.

“Alright, I think… I think that should do it,” she muttered, sitting back and running a hand down her face. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and the oversized hoodie she wore had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her tank top. “Run the test again.”

“You say that every time. You’re like an optimist with Stockholm Syndrome.”

She threw a crumpled candy wrapper at him. “Just do it.”

He smirked and hit the compile button. The two of them leaned in, watching the lines of code execute. A pause—then the program ran cleanly. No errors. No warnings. Just success.

For a moment, they just stared at the screen, the weight of weeks of sleep deprivation, stress, and too much caffeine finally culminating in this single, victorious moment.

Lu grinned. “Holy shit, we did it.”

“We did it!” she echoed, and then to his surprise, she flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in an exuberant hug.

He caught her easily, laughing as he steadied them both. She smelled like vanilla and old books, and for a second, Lu had the ridiculous urge to close his eyes and just breathe her in. Instead, he let his hands settle briefly at her waist before she pulled back.

Then he shook his head, still grinning as he looked at her—really looked at her. The spark in her eyes, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she smiled too hard, the pure, unfiltered joy radiating from her. He felt something settle in his chest, warm and steady, and almost too easy to ignore—if he were the kind of guy who ignored things like this.

“This wouldn’t be possible without you, Pip.”

Her smile softened at the nickname, one he’d given her ages ago when she’d admitted, in passing, that she’d always loved Great Expectations as a kid. Something about underdogs, she’d said. Something about wanting to prove people wrong.

Now, she rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide the way her lips twitched at the edges. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“It’s not,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “You’re kind of a genius, you know that?”

She scoffed. “Oh, so now you think that? Not when I was sleep-deprived and rambling about recursive functions at 3 AM last week?”

“I mean, that was terrifying, but still impressive.”

“We deserve a break,” she declared, gathering her things. “And since it’s technically still Valentine’s Day…” She checked her phone. “Yeah, not midnight yet. We should celebrate.”

Lu arched a brow. “You wanna celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

“No, dummy.” She shoved her laptop into her bag. “I want to celebrate not wanting to throw myself off a bridge because of this project. Come on, let’s go get drinks. First round’s on me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was no way he was saying no to spending more time with her. Not when she was already pulling him to his feet, eyes bright with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” he said, letting himself be dragged toward the door. “But if you end up drunk and sobbing about your ex, I’m leaving you at the bar.”

She laughed. “Joke’s on you—I don’t have an ex to sob about.”

Lu paused, watching her for half a second longer than he should have.

Interesting.

They walked side by side through the nearly empty campus streets, the occasional couple passing them, hand in hand, lost in their own little Valentine’s Day world. Pip made a show of gagging at a particularly sappy-looking pair sharing a scarf, and Lu nudged her.

“What, jealous?”

Of that?” Pip made a face. “Please. That’s a level of codependency I aspire to avoid.”

Lu smirked. “Says the girl who texted me at 2 AM last week because she couldn’t decide if an array or a hash table was the better choice for our sorting algorithm.”

“That was important,” she said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And you were awake, don’t even pretend you weren’t.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, because I knew you’d overthink it until sunrise otherwise.

She sighed dramatically. “See? This is why I keep you around. You know how to manage my spirals.”

Lu smiled fondly at her back as they turned the corner onto the main street where their favorite little bar was tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat. The neon Open sign glowed warmly against the dark, and the window was fogged up from the heat inside.

The bar was just off-campus, a warm little hole-in-the-wall that smelled like whiskey and old wood. It was quieter than usual, probably because everyone with actual Valentine’s Day plans had gone somewhere fancier.

They slid into a booth near the back, ordering beers to start. Then Pip tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, shrugging with a sort of distant look in her eyes. “I just think some people get way too into Valentine’s Day. Like, it’s all manufactured romance, you know? What, you need an official day to be romantic? Either you love someone or you don’t.”

Lu arched a brow. “So what, if you ever fall in love, you’re gonna refuse to celebrate Valentine’s Day out of sheer principle?”

“Obviously.” She shot him a pointed look. “If my hypothetical future partner ever tries to do some over-the-top grand gesture on February fourteenth, I’ll just break up with them out of spite.”

Lu let out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“Necessary,” she corrected. Then, after a pause, she added, “Though, I guess, if someone really knew me, they’d probably just take me for drinks and let me rant about AI ethics or something.”

Lu laughed. “Ah, yes, the way to your heart—alcohol and an existential crisis.”

“See? You get it.” She grinned at him. “Maybe you should be my Valentine.”

Lu gave a laugh, deciding against analysing why that idea just felt right.

“Okay, but for real,” she said, after their drinks arrived. “If you had a partner, what would you do?”

Lu glanced at her over his beer. “You mean for Valentine’s Day?”

Pip nodded. “Yeah. Say you actually had someone. What’s your move?”

He thought for a second, fidgeting with a peeling corner of the label on his bottle. “I don’t know. I feel like grand gestures are overrated. I’d want to do something that actually means something to them.”

“Like what?”

Lu shrugged. “Depends on the person. Maybe cook for them, or take them somewhere they’ve always wanted to go but never had the time. Or just… spend the day doing nothing together, but in a way that still feels like everything.”

Pip was quiet for a beat, then let out a laugh. “God, that’s disgustingly sweet.”

“You asked,” he pointed out with a shrug.

She took a sip of her beer, and suddenly her eyes lit up with an idea. “Okay, Lu, truth or dare?”

He huffed a laugh. “What are we, twelve?”

“Come on, it’s a classic. And since we don’t have exes to sob about, we might as well make the night interesting.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Fine. Truth."

Pip leaned back, swirling her drink as she considered her options. Then, with a small, mischievous smile, she asked, “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

Lu arched a brow, taking a slow sip of his beer. “Damn. You’re going straight for the deep cuts, huh?”

She shrugged. “We’ve been in the trenches together for months now. I think we’re past the what’s your favorite color phase.”

He tapped his fingers against his bottle, thinking. There were plenty of things he didn’t talk about—most of them too boring or too complicated for a casual drinking game. But then, without really meaning to, he found himself saying, “I almost dropped out last year.”

Pip’s brows lifted, her expression shifting from playful to surprised. “Wait. What?”

Lu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t tell anyone, obviously. But I was seriously thinking about it. Everything felt like too much, you know? The pressure, the expectations, all the shit I thought I was supposed to be able to do but couldn’t. I started wondering if maybe I was just—” He made a vague gesture. “—burning time on something I’d never actually be good enough at.”

Pip didn’t say anything right away. She just watched him, her head tilted slightly, like she was seeing something new in him. Then she said, “What changed your mind?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “You, actually.”

Pip’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah. You remember that night we pulled an all-nighter working on that neural net assignment? I was this close to just walking away from it all. But then you—” He shook his head, grinning at the memory. “You showed up with, like, three energy drinks, a bag of gummy bears, and a completely unhinged rant about how we were not going to let a buggy dataset ruin our futures.”

Pip laughed. “God, I barely remember that. I was so sleep-deprived I think I started speaking in binary at one point.”

“You did. And you know what? It was weirdly inspiring.” Lu smirked. “Somewhere between you threatening to ‘personally fight every faulty training model’ and the moment you fell asleep face-first on your laptop, I figured—yeah. Maybe I should stick around.”

She was quiet for a second, then softened. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Not exactly my usual small talk.”

Her expression softened, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. She took another sip of her drink, then pointed at him. “Well, now I feel like my question was too deep. I should’ve just asked what your go-to shower song is or something.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Careless Whisper by George Michael.”

She nearly choked on her beer. “What?”

He shrugged. “I like a little drama in my life.”

Pip burst out laughing, shaking her head. Then, after a beat, she nudged his foot under the table. “Hey, Lu?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you stuck around.”

Something about the way she said it made his chest feel too small for his ribs. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his tone light. “Yeah, yeah. You just didn’t want to do all the work yourself.”

“Obviously.” Pip rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Alright, your turn. Truth or dare?”

Pip tapped her nails softly against the neck of her bottle, considering. Then she lifted her chin, a lazy smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “Truth.”

Lu took a sip of his drink, thinking. There were plenty of things he could ask—light, teasing things. But the way she’d looked at him when he admitted almost dropping out was still sitting heavy in his chest. He wanted to ask something real.

So he set his glass down and asked, “What’s something you regret not doing?”

Pip hesitated. For the first time that night, she didn’t immediately have a comeback. Instead, she bit her lip, looking down at the condensation sliding down the side of her bottle.

Lu tilted his head. “Too deep?”

She let out a short laugh. “No, it’s just…” She exhaled, swirling her drink. “I think I regret not being braver about the things I want.”

Lu’s brows lifted slightly. “Like what?”

Pip’s fingers curled around her beer, but when she looked up at him, her gaze held something just out of his reach. “Like saying things when I should.”

Something in his chest tightened. He could feel it—the edge of something unspoken between them, something that had been there longer than either of them had probably wanted to admit.

But then, just as quickly, Pip rolled her shoulders back, shaking it off. She raised her drink in his direction. “But hey, that’s what alcohol is for, right? Liquid courage.”

Lu chuckled, but the moment wasn’t entirely gone. He could still feel it, humming beneath the surface.

“Your turn,” she said like she was in a hurry to change the subject.

He studied her for a second longer than he should have, trying to read the things she wasn’t saying. Then, deciding not to push—not yet, at least—he leaned back with a smirk. “Dare.”

Pip exhaled, looking relieved at the shift in topic. But then a slow grin took over her face, and she leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Alright, Lu. I dare you to go up to the bartender and ask for a Valentine’s Special—without knowing what’s in it.”

Lu chuckled. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Oh, you’ll regret saying that,” she teased. “Now go. Let’s see if you can handle whatever monstrosity they serve you.”

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the booth. “If I end up drinking something pink and covered in whipped cream, I might throw up on you.”

She just grinned, watching him go. But as he crossed the room, she caught herself staring at his back a little too long, her fingers still absently tracing an abstract pattern on the condensation on the bottle.

God. She was in trouble.

They kept drinking, falling back into their usual rhythm—trading stories, daring each other to say ridiculous things to the bartender, laughing too loudly. The bar started to blur at the edges, warm and hazy. Pip’s laugh got looser, her touches lingered longer—fingers brushing against his wrist, knees touching under the table.

Pip wasn’t completely gone, but tipsy enough that she was a little too loose, a little too open. And she had a habit of getting sentimental when she drank—something Lu found stupidly endearing.

“Go on,” Lu said. “Which one?”

She hummed, tilting her head like she was having trouble making a decision. Then she flashed him a lazy grin. “Dare. But make it like… Something that would make future-you cringe when you think about it.”

He let out a low chuckle, swirling the last of his drink. “Alright. I dare you to tell me a secret.”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “That’s too easy.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Lu leaned forward, his smirk turning sharper. “I dare you to tell me a secret… about me.”

Pip faltered.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, rolling her lips together like she was physically stopping words from spilling out.

Lu watched her, pulse ticking up just slightly. He hadn’t planned this to be a trap, but suddenly, it felt like one.

Pip let out a slow breath, tapping her nails against the rim of her glass. Then, carefully, she said, “You’re a lot more important to me than I let on.”

Lu didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Pip gave him a small, almost hesitant smile. “That count as a secret?”

He should laugh. Tease her. Turn this into something easy and light, the way they always did.

But he couldn’t.

Not when her words were still hanging in the air between them, too big, too real.

He swallowed. “Pip…”

“Wait.” She lifted a hand. “There’s a second part.”

Pip swirled her glass around as if she was trying to find the answer on the bottom. “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me something you’d only say if you weren’t worried about what happens next.”

Pip blinked with heavy eyelids. This was a dangerous dare. But wasn’t it exactly what she was hoping for? 

Her fingers tightened slightly around her empty, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. The bar noise seemed to quiet around them, everything narrowing down to just her and him, the warm glow of the lights reflecting in her eyes.

Pip let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Then she reacher for his drink and took a long sip, trying to gather her thoughts and get some of that much needed liquid courage.

“Alright,” she said, set the glass down in front of him again. Her voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I think about you. More than I should.”

Lu stilled, as if the tiniest movement could shatter the moment.

Pip traced the rim of her coaster with her fingertip, not looking at him. “Like, when something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. And when something bad happens, I wonder if you’d make me laugh about it. And when I see something stupid—like a weird-looking pigeon or a meme so dumb it makes me lose brain cells—I think, Lu would get this.” She let out a quiet chuckle, finally meeting his gaze. “And I don’t know what that means, but it’s been happening for a while.”

Lu’s throat was dry. His fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

It took everything in him to keep his voice steady when he said, “That’s a pretty good answer.”

Pip smiled, just barely. “Yeah?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Yeah.”

Her breath hitched. Just a little.

And then, before he could think too hard about it, before he could do something reckless, Pip abruptly stood up.

“I need another drink.”

Lu blinked. “Pip—”

But she was already heading to the bar.

Lu let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face. His heart was pounding, and not from the alcohol.

When she came back, Pip took a very long sip of her drink even before she sat down. Then she asked him something else in a lighthearted tone. 

But her eyes weren’t quite meeting his anymore.

Lu could see it—how she was trying to brush past what she’d just said, how she was treating it like some offhand joke. But her fingers were tapping against her glass, and her lips were pressed together like she was thinking too hard.

Pip had gone quiet. Not her usual, thinking-through-a-bug kind of quiet, but something else. Something heavier. She was staring at her drink like it held the answers to the universe, absentmindedly tracing patterns with her fingertip. Lu watched her, feeling the weight of whatever was about to happen settle in his chest.

He let it sit for a moment, waiting to see if she’d say something else.

She didn't. 

She just exhaled and kept playing, making sure the truths and dares turned playful for a while, like an entirely different conversation.

Somewhere between another round of drinks, another round of questions—some deep, some ridiculous, some only half-answered through laughter—Pip started leaning into him more. At first, it was casual. Her shoulder brushing against his when she laughed too hard. Her fingers catching his arm when she emphasized a point. But then her head dipped onto his shoulder, and instead of pulling away, she stayed there.

Lu went still.

He should move. He should say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned slightly, just enough to glance down at her. Pip, eyes half-lidded, hair falling over her cheek, looking content and maybe just a little drunk.

“You good, Pip?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She hummed. “Mhm.”

“You wanna call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Her fingers played absently with the hem of her sleeve, and for a moment, she was silent.

“You wanna stop playing?”

“No, no, we haven't embarrassed ourselves enough,” she slurred slightly, with a smirk. “Truth or dare?”

Lu, also feeling warm from the alcohol, smirked. “Truth.”

She squinted at him like she was trying to focus. “Would you ever—” She cut herself off, frowning. Then shook her head. “No. Wait. I don’t wanna ask that.”

Lu arched a brow. “You can’t start a question and not finish it.”

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Ugh, I don’t know. My brain-to-mouth filter is completely broken right now.”

Lu chuckled, watching Pip war with herself, her forehead still pressed against the table. She let out a dramatic sigh, then lifted her head, squinting at him through slightly unfocused eyes.

“Okay, fine,” she mumbled, waving a hand in his general direction. “Would you ever… I mean, have you ever thought about…”

Lu leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Thought about what?”

She let out a frustrated groan, scrunching up her face like she was trying to will the words out of her mouth. Then, suddenly, she blurted, “Would you ever date me?”

Suddenly it felt like there was not enough oxygen in the room. Lu took a deep breath, but it was shaky and didn't quite fill his lungs.

Pip immediately sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Nope. Nope, that wasn’t—I mean, not that it’s a bad question, it’s just—”

Lu tilted his head, watching her completely spiral.

“Would I ever date you?” he repeated, pretending to consider it.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Then she peeked at him through her fingers, scowling.

Lu exhaled, leaning back against the booth. He swallowed, throat feeling like sandpaper. “You want an answer or not?”

Pip hesitated, then nodded once, slowly.

His smirk faded just slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter. More certain. “Yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip blinked. She seemed to short-circuit for a second. Then she narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

Lu shrugged. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Pip just stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly, then shut again. Then—she grabbed her drink and downed about half of it.

Lu raised a brow. “Something you wanna say?”

She set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “No. I just—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.”

Pip scowled at him—kinda. Her eyes were hazy, but searching. “Okay, but like—why?”

Lu frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why would you… you know.” She gestured vaguely between them. “Date me.”

Lu considered her for a moment. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and said, “Because you’re you.”

Pip inhaled sharply.

Lu shrugged, playing it off like his heart wasn’t suddenly racing. “You’re smart. You’re funny. And you make me feel like I actually know what the hell I’m doing—even when I don’t.” He met her gaze, steady and unflinching. “So, yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip was completely silent.

For a long, stretching moment, she just stared at him, her lips slightly parted, as if she’d forgotten how to speak. Lu couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh, call him a liar, or throw her drink in his face.

“…That’s not fair,” she finally muttered.

Lu smirked. “What’s not fair?”

She exhaled, shaking her head, staring at the table like it held the answers. “You. Saying stuff like that. Being like that.”

“Like what?”

Pip let out a short, breathy laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, “Like someone I can’t imagine my life without.”

Lu blinked.

Pip groaned, shaking her head. “God, I should not be drinking right now.”

Lu leaned in, curiosity sparking, his heart thrumming like it wanted to escape his chest. “What does that mean?”

Pip hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “It means—” She sighed, then looked up at him with a kind of tired fondness. “It means I like you, okay? I like… how you always act like nothing gets to you, but you care so much it’s ridiculous. I like that you always notice when I’m stressed before I even say anything. I like that you walk me home when we stay late at the lab and pretend it’s just because ‘you needed air.’”

Lu exhaled slowly, dizzy, heart hammering in his throat and ears and just everywhere.

But Pip wasn’t done.

“I like that you’re secretly the biggest softie,” she went on, her words getting a little looser, a little warmer, like the dam had finally broken. “Like when you always give the stray cat outside the library part of your sandwich, even though you pretend you don’t like cats.”

Lu huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not my fault, he just looks at me like that.”

Pip chuckled, looking down at her drink. “I like how you talk with your hands when you’re explaining something. And when you’re focusing really hard, you do a little pouty thing with your lips, it’s adorable.”

Lu just stared. He didn’t know if he was breathing.

Pip leaned forward slightly, propping her elbows on the table. “You remember last semester, when my laptop crashed the night before that huge deadline?”

He snorted. “Yeah. You were ready to fight God.”

She pointed at him. “Exactly. I was losing my mind. But you just—” She shook her head. “You showed up with your old laptop, somehow got my files recovered, and then you stayed up with me the whole night just to make sure I finished everything.”

Lu shrugged like it was nothing. “Well, yeah. What was I gonna do, not help?”

“That’s the thing,” Pip said softly. “You don’t even think about it. You just do things like that.”

Lu exhaled, breath ragged like he just ran a marathon, and shifted slightly in his seat. “I mean, you do the same for me.”

Pip sighed. “Yeah, I would do it for you. But you do it for anyone who needs it. You don't mind staying up all night helping people study or finish their projects. You bring them snacks and drinks. You never let anyone sit alone in the lab when they look stressed. ”

Lu was speechless, just staring at her with his mouth slightly opened in surprise.

“Or—” she gestured vaguely, her voice softer now, “—how you knew I was about to crash last semester and left a stupid energy drink in my locker with a note that just said ‘Don’t die, Pip.’”

His mind scrambled for a response but words failed him. He didn’t even remember doing that. Lu opened his mouth, then closed it, caught completely off guard.

Pip kept going, oblivious to the fact that she was absolutely wrecking him.

“Do you even know how stupidly likable you are? You’re just— You walk into a room and people like you. And..” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “And I like that you’re way too competitive about stupid things. Like Mario Kart. Or rock-paper-scissors.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, both at what she said and as a nervous reaction to her entire speech. “That’s called having integrity, Pip.”

She rolled her eyes but kept going. “I like the way you say my full name when you’re being serious.” She swallowed. “I like the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. Pip let the words sink in for a moment. Then she picked up her metaphorical shovel and kept digging the hole.

“Yeah, I really like your eyes. Which is annoying because when you look at me a certain way, my brain just turns into the blue screen of death, and—” She broke off, shaking her head. Then she let out a small, slightly tipsy laugh. “Also I really like your hands.”

Lu’s brain felt like a completely fried motherboard. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, buying himself a second to think.

Pip smiled, just slightly. Like she wasn’t just putting all of this out there, months—maybe years—of pent up feelings she had hidden from him.

“You have, like, objectively nice hands,” she continued, frowning slightly like this was important information. “They’re big but not, like, weirdly big, and you do this thing where you crack your knuckles when you’re thinking and—”

“Pip,” Lu interrupted, his voice slightly strained.

She blinked up at him, like she hadn’t noticed she was rambling. “What?”

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You can’t just say all that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” He hesitated, shaking his head. “Because it means something.”

Pip stared at him. Then, very softly, she whispered, “It does.”

Lu’s chest tightened.

Pip suddenly looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor. “I should shut up now.”

Lu huffed a breath, shaking his head. She was drunk. Really drunk. She probably didn’t even know what she was saying. “You should.”

But she didn’t. Instead, she let out a breath, barely above a whisper.

“You’re kind of the best person I know,” she murmured.

Lu blinked. “What?”

Pip glanced up at him, eyes a little too bright, a little too earnest. Vulnerable. “You’re a really good person, Lu.” And then, after a pause. “…You’re all I ever wanted." She looked down and shook her head. "I’m sorry I can’t say it sober.”

Silence.

The bar noise felt distant, like it wasn’t even real anymore. Just the sound of her breathing, unsteady, and little too fast.

Lu gripped his drink like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She wasn’t laughing anymore.

She wasn’t playing anymore.

The words hung in the air between them, delicate and irreversible.

Then, as if realizing what she’d just said, Pip sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide, glassy and slightly unfocused. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Lu just stared at her.

Pip covered her mouth with both hands, looking absolutely horrified. “I should not have said that.”

Lu blinked, dazed, still processing the fact that she had said that.

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Lu, forget what I said”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Pip let out a pained noise.

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. His chest felt too tight, his mind spinning too fast. He should say something, acknowledge it, tell her—

No.

He couldn’t let himself answer. Not here. Not now. Not while she was like this.

He needed to think. He needed to get those drinks away from her and get her home.

Lu stood abruptly, tossing some cash onto the table. “Come on, drunkie. Let’s get you back before you start reciting poetry or something.”

Pip groaned, still face-down on the table.”I regret all my choices.”

Lu smirked, despite the storm raging in his chest. He bent down and grabbed her hand, tugging her up. “Come on, you need to get some rest.”

She groaned again but didn’t resist when he pulled her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders.

And as they stepped out into the cold Valentine’s night, biting and sobering, Lu kept hearing it over and over again.

You’re all I ever wanted.

And fuck if that didn’t ruin him.

Pip shivered, wobbling only slightly before leaning into Lu’s side without thinking. He tightened his grip around her shoulders, steadying her as they made their way down the quiet street.

The city had started to wind down—most people already home, tucked away with their dates, their lovers, their Valentine’s plans.

Lu exhaled, his breath curling white in the air. His mind kept looping back to her words.

She probably wouldn’t even remember saying it. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should pretend he didn’t hear it. But fuck, it was hard when she was right here, pressed against him, trusting him enough to lean her weight into him like he was something solid, something safe.

She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head against his shoulder. 

“You’re warm,” she murmured, burrowing against him. “Like a space heater.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “From project partner to household appliance. Quite a step up!”

“Totally.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, her cheek resting against his shoulder. 

Lu swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his focus on the sidewalk ahead, on getting her home. Not on the way she felt pressed against him, or the way her voice had wrapped around those words in the bar—You’re all I ever wanted.

It wasn’t far to her dorm, but every step felt like both too much time to think and not nearly enough. Pip was quiet, her usual sharp wit dulled by the alcohol, but she was awake enough to hum under her breath as they walked, something soft and aimless, the way she sometimes did when she thought no one was paying attention.

But Lu always noticed.

When they reached her building, she fumbled in her bag for her keys, her movements slow and uncoordinated. Lu reached over, steadying her hand before she could drop them into the snow.

“Here,” he murmured, plucking them from her fingers. “I got it.”

She hummed in agreement, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he unlocked the door. “Such a gentleman.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nudged her inside, following her up the stairs to her dorm.

Once inside, Pip immediately beelined for her bed, flopping onto it face-first with a dramatic groan.

Lu chuckled, closing the door behind him. “I see subtlety is dead.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled into the pillow.

Lu crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So this is how you treat your personal chauffeur, huh? No thank you, no you’re my hero, Lu?”

She lifted a hand lazily and gave him a thumbs-up without lifting her head. “You’re my hero, Lu.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

He glanced around the small dorm. It was cluttered but in a way that felt lived-in—books stacked on her desk, a blanket draped haphazardly over her chair, half-finished notes scribbled on sticky pads. It smelled like her.

He sighed, crouching beside the bed to untie her boots. 

Pip let out a breathy chuckle. “Wow, I’m getting the royal treatment.”

Lu shook his head, pulling off one boot, then the other. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You always take care of me, Lu.”

His chest ached.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Always.”

She didn’t reply.

“C’mon, Pip, at least get under the covers.”

She let out a grumbling noise but didn’t protest when he pulled the blanket over her.

When he started to move away, she reached out blindly, catching his wrist. “Stay.”

Lu froze.

Pip’s fingers were warm, loose from the alcohol but still firm enough that he knew she meant it.

He swallowed. “Pip—”

“Just… stay,” she murmured. “For a little bit.”

Her gaze flickered over his face, lingering on his lips for a split second too long.

For one agonizing moment, he thought—maybe. But he couldn’t. He was kinda drunk. She was very drunk. Kissing, confessing hidden feelings, cuddling until morning pretending they were just cold—none of it was an option.

Lu exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t even stay. He should go. He should definitely go.

Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, picked up a spare pillow from her bed and settled onto the floor beside her bed, leaning against the frame.

Her fingers slid from his wrist to his hand, her grip easy and unthinking. Lu glanced down, watching their hands, her palm against his, their fingers brushing.

He should let go.

But he didn’t.

He let his thumb trace over her knuckles absently, grounding himself in the quiet darkness.

And as the room settled into soft breathing and silence, as Pip's fingers curled around his just slightly in sleep, Lu let his head tip back against the bed frame.

Just for tonight.

He could pretend.

 

Pip stirred with a soft groan, burying her face deeper into her pillow. The room was too bright, the warmth of sleep fading into the slow, creeping realization that her head felt too heavy.

Right. Drinking.

She exhaled, blinking blearily at her dorm ceiling, willing herself to piece together the night before. There had been drinks, laughter, Lu teasing her—

Her fingers twitched, brushing against something solid.

She frowned. Turned her head.

Lu was on the floor beside her bed, slumped against the frame, his breathing slow and even, his hand still loosely tangled with hers.

Pip’s heart stopped.

The pieces of the night were blurry, but this—this was new. Unexpected.

She stared at their joined hands, at the easy way their fingers fit together, like they’d done this a hundred times. A small thrill curled through her chest before panic squashed it.

What the hell happened last night?

Her brain scrambled, reaching for memories that felt just out of focus. The bar. The walk home. Him helping her inside.

She swallowed hard.

Suddenly everything sharpened. The warmth of his hand. The quiet in the room. The way Lu’s breathing shifted just slightly, like he was surfacing from sleep.

And then—his eyes fluttered open.

Pip stiffened.

Lu blinked, slow and groggy, squinting against the morning haze, before turning his head slightly. For a second he just looked at her, his gaze still heavy with sleep.

Then his lips curled, soft and lazy. “Morning, Pip.”

Her stomach flipped. 

She cleared her throat, shifting to sit up, head still a bit heavy. “Uh. Morning.”

Slowly, like he didn’t really want to do it, Lu released her hand. Then he stretched, wincing slightly as he rolled his shoulders. “Damn. I think my spine is permanently shaped like your bed frame now.”

Pip let out a breathy laugh, but it was weak. “What… uh. What are you doing here?”

He gave her a look. “You really don’t remember?”

Pip hesitated. “I remember drinking.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

She rubbed her temples. “Did I… did I say anything stupid?”

For half a second, Lu didn’t answer. Then he smirked, tilting his head. “Define stupid.”

Pip groaned again, finally dropping her hands to look at Lu. There was something almost hesitant in the way she studied him. Like something was off.

“…Did I?” she asked, quieter this time.

Lu hesitated.

Because he could tell her. He could say yeah, Pip, you told me you loved me and wrecked my entire existence in three seconds flat.

Or—

“Nah,” he said instead, stretching his arms over his head, stomping all over the memories like he wanted to grind them into dust. “Just your usual brand of nonsense.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“You do this thing with your face when you’re lying.”

His heart was starting to speed up. “Pip, I’m literally just existing.”

She groaned, rubbing at her temple again. “Whatever. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“That truck was three vodka sodas and a bunch of other bad decisions.”

She let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lu noticed, but didn’t mention it.

Pip yawned, pulling the blanket over one shoulder. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t trust you not to roll off the bed and die.” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. “Plus, you asked me to.”

She blinked at him, something flickering across her face. “I did?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Clung to me like a baby koala, too.”

She groaned. “Great. Love that for me.”

Lu chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears.

Pip didn’t remember. And she had no idea she was breaking his heart.

He exhaled slowly, still blinking sleep away from his eyes. His head was clearer now, last night’s haze dulled to a manageable ache, but his chest still felt tight, weighted by the words that kept replaying in his mind.

You’re all I ever wanted.

She had said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. No hesitation, no doubt. And now she didn’t even know she’d said it. 

Lu swallowed it all down. “You should eat something.” His voice was steady, but he was already pushing himself to his feet, removing himself from the situation before she could ask anything else. “I’ll grab you some water.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

But while Lu moved toward the tiny dorm kitchen, Pip frowned slightly, like she was trying to piece something together. Like some part of her knew something had happened, even if she didn’t remember it yet.

Pip sat on the bed, fingers idly rubbing against her palm, as if chasing the phantom feeling of Lu’s hand in hers.

He returned a moment later, setting a glass of water on her nightstand with a pointed look. “Drink slowly. If you throw up all over the place I am not cleaning it up.”  

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, taking small, careful sips. The cold water helped clear the fuzziness in her head, but the feeling in her chest—the vague, off sensation, like she was forgetting something important—remained.  

For a moment, she just watched Lu move around her room like he’d done this a hundred times before. Something about it felt too easy—like they had always existed in this quiet rhythm, like it wasn’t strange for him to be here, like the warmth still lingering in her hand wasn’t something she should be questioning.

But she was questioning it. Because something was definitely off.

She tried to focus, tried to sort through the messy blur of last night. Bits and pieces surfaced—laughing over drinks, teasing, a conversation about some girl Lu liked.

Her stomach twisted.

Right. That.

She barely noticed Lu setting an energy bar on the nightstand. “Love that you don’t seem to have any real food around here,” he said, casually, before going back to the kitchen.

Pip swallowed hard, watching him move around like nothing changed. Like he wasn’t acting different. Like he wasn’t avoiding looking at her for too long.

He was bracing himself for something. And that—more than anything—confirmed it. She had said something huge. And he heard it, remembered it, and was probably thinking about it.

Pip opened her mouth, then closed it again, her throat too tight. Then she set the water down. “Hey, Lu?”  

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Yeah?”  

She bit her lip. “I did say something stupid last night, didn’t I?”  

Lu stilled. It was subtle—so subtle. But Pip knew him well enough to see it. The slight pause. The careful, almost imperceptible shift in his expression.  

Pip’s stomach dipped.  

Then he exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was brushing something off, before walking back to her.

“…Define stupid,” he said, echoing his words from earlier.

Pip narrowed her eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

He had that infuriating smirk on his face again, like he was perfectly fine. Like nothing was wrong when she knew that wasn’t true. “You think I’m just gonna hand over blackmail material that easily?" He scoffed. "Please.”

Pip stared at him, searching his expression for something. A crack, a tell—anything. Because she knew there was something to find.

Lu didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. But he was still keeping his distance. And very deliberately avoiding a straight answer to her question. 

“I feel like… I forgot something important.” She forced a small, shaky breath, tilting her head, testing the waters. 

Lu let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Pip—”

“Lu,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt as she got up from the bed. “Tell me what I said last night. I’m serious.”.

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, uncertainty. But then he forced a smile, leaning back against the wall next to her bed. “Well, let’s see. You said I’m warm, which is accurate—”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “And?”

“And you threatened to fight a snowman.”  

Pip snorted. “Okay, that tracks.”  

But she knew that wasn’t the whole truth.  

“Oh, and you confessed your undying love for me.” He crossed his arms and smiled at her, like none of this was a big deal. 

But Pip just froze.

Lu said it so casually, so playfully, like it was just another one of their jokes. She couldn’t quite tell if he was telling the truth or not.

Her heart stuttered. He’s joking, right? Instinct took over because deflecting was easier, and she let out a half-laugh, shaking her head. “I did not.”

His smile widened. “Oh no, you definitely did. Got down on one knee, proposed right there in the snow. Very dramatic.”  

She let out a breathy laugh, shoving his arm. “Shut up.”  

Lu grinned, but there was something careful behind his eyes. Something guarded. He let the moment stretch, like he was waiting for something.

Then he shrugged. “Nah, I’m messing with you.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, testing her reaction. “But you did ramble about how I have nice hands, which, honestly? The most unnecessarily intimate thing anyone has ever told me.”

Pip blinked. “I what?”  

“Oh yeah. Full monologue. Went on for a while.” He glanced at them like he was genuinely contemplating their appeal. “Not gonna lie, I was flattered.”  

Pip groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I hate myself.”  

Lu chuckled. “I thought it was sweet.”  

She peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”  

“Immensely.”  

Pip groaned again, but her mind was racing. Because she knew Lu. She could tell he was doing this on purpose, avoiding the real thing she had said.  

She saw it now. Lu wasn’t acknowledging it because he was protecting her—like he always did. He was giving her an out. Letting her brush it off so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.  

For a long moment, there was just silence—thick and heavy, wrapping around them like neither of them knew how to break it.  

Then there was more—hazy, warm, something heavier curling in her chest. Flashes of cold air, of Lu’s arm around her, steadying her as they walked. Of his voice, softer than usual, saying You can’t just say all that.

Of her saying—

Pip sucked in a breath.

You’re all I ever wanted.

The words crashed over her like a wave, and suddenly, she was too aware of everything—the way her heart was hammering, the way Lu had hesitated when she asked if she’d said anything dumb, the way her fingers could still feel his wrapped around them.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Pip didn’t move. Because suddenly, she knew.

Suddenly, she wasn’t just remembering saying it. She was remembering how it felt. And the way he had held her.

The way he had not said it back.

And that was enough to realize that she had said something really very real that changed everything. Something she had never let herself say out loud, even when it was clawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Whatever this was—whatever was sitting heavy between them, waiting to be named—wasn’t something she could brush off.

It had always been there. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could pretend otherwise. It wasn’t something she could take back.

She swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the blanket on her lap. No. Maybe... she could let this slide. She could laugh it off. She could let him keep pretending, keep protecting her from words she’d already said.

Or—

Pip inhaled sharply. “Lu.”

His smirk faltered, just slightly. “Yeah?”

She looked at him, really holding his gaze. Her heart was a hammer in her chest, but she forced the words out. “I meant it.”

Lu’s breath hitched. For the first time since she woke up, he looked thrown. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

She inhaled deeply, gathering the courage that felt like a live wire beneath her skin, and just kept going because if she stopped now she’d never say it.

“I remember,” she admitted, voice quiet but firm. “I remember saying that, and I—” She exhaled, gripping the fabric in her lap. “I meant it, Lu.”

For a second, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she had actually said that out loud.  

Lu flexed his fingers slightly like he was trying not to react, but she could see it. She knew that movement. It meant he was thinking too hard, feeling too hard.  

She bit her lip, her chest tightening. “You didn’t say anything back.”

His gaze flickered to the floor. 

Pip swallowed. “Was it because I was drunk?” She hesitated. “Or… because I’m not the girl you were talking about last night?”

Lu let out a breath—sharp, unsteady. His fingers twitched, his jaw tensed. He was still trying to hold something back.

Then, finally, finally, he ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before muttering, “God, Pip.”

She waited.

Something broke in his expression—something raw, something wrecked.

“It was you.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “It’s always been you.” 

It felt like the floor was escaping from under her feet.

“I didn’t say anything back because you were drunk and I didn’t think you meant it,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher, like the words were dragging out of him. “And because… I didn’t think I could handle it if I let myself believe it.”

Pip’s breath caught.

Lu shook his head, exhaling sharply, and looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. “I’m in love with you, Pip. I have been for—God, I don’t even know how long. But I never said anything because I genuinely didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” He hesitated. “I thought if I told you, I’d just lose you.”  

Pip felt something break open in her chest. Her pulse thundered like mad in her ears. “Why?”

He let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Because of the way you talk about love and relationships. Like it’s something that happens to other people. Like it’s something you don’t care about.”

He paused, and Pip could see the way his chest rose and fell too quickly for someone who was just standing still.

“Because I’ve watched you go on a date with someone, get bored, and never text them back. I just… I figured if you wanted something like this, you would’ve already—”

Pip’s breath hitched. “Lu.”

He exhaled. “Yeah?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t want something like this with anyone else.” Pip let out a nervous laugh, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I mean, look at me. I am horrifically bad at feelings. And I avoided dating because no one ever felt right. And I told myself I wasn’t that kind of person, that I didn’t care about romance, but—” She exhaled. “Maybe I was just lying to myself. Because it wasn’t until you that I started wanting something real.”

Lu inhaled sharply, like he’d forgotten how to breathe properly. His expression had shifted entirely, something new burning behind his eyes.

Pip felt breathless. “And now I’m saying all of this, and I don’t know how to shut up, so if you’re—”

Lu surged forward and kissed her.

Pip gasped against his mouth, barely processing before she was kissing him back, her fingers gripping his shirt, dragging him closer, tilting her head to let him deepen it.

And Lu just melted into it.

His hands found her waist instantly, his lips parting against hers like he had been waiting for this—like he had spent a lifetime holding it back, not letting himself have this, not letting himself want this.  

But now she was right there. And she meant it.  

And Lu—Lu was so in love with her, he didn’t really know how to breathe anymore.  

It was slow and warm and perfect. Like every touch they had ever shared had led to this.

When they finally pulled back, neither of them moved for a second. Their breathing was uneven, their foreheads pressed together, hands still fisted in each other’s clothes. The moment stretched between them, enveloping them, shielding them from the world.

“I love you, Philippa,” he said, barely a whisper.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Lu exhaled, brushing his nose against hers. “And I am so fucking mad at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, “you’re a real idiot.” Pip let out a breathless laugh, pressing a soft, almost disbelieving kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then, whispering right against his lips, “I love you too, Luigi.” 

Lu chuckled, tilting her chin up to kiss her again, slow and deep, fingers threading into her hair.

And this time—

There was no reason for them to hold anything back.

---

Click here for the tag list! ✨

@straw8erry @belncaldern @starlightslvtt @number1yearner @fancyyanci

[fluffymarshmalllows]

In every universe, I'll look for you

fanfic about Reader getting sucked in the portal first, Ford follows.

Another restless night for you and your husband in the basement. Coffee staining the journals as he scribbles more blurbs about this “Bill” person he keeps calling his muse. You didn’t want to feel jealous but ever since that absurdly long late night walk Ford took months ago, he’s been nose deep into every physics book and theoretical researches to prove something, anything. Every time you beg him to rest, he refuses making you a bit annoyed, blame it on the sleep deprivation and lack of quality time.

“Please, Fordsy, you really need some rest. We’ve been working on this project for weeks now” you muttered, half-asleep at this point. But words fell on deaf ears as your husband just waved you off with some empty promises of he’ll be with you to bed soon.

Too tired to argue, you kissed him on the cheek which caused his face to get dusted pink for a bit, but still very much focused on his calculations. A sight you will never get tired of. You also waved to Fiddleford who was roped in this whole project bidding farewell.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” he says without looking up as you climb the squeaky staircase. You reminded them both to get some rest while internally praying to whoever God that will listen that you get your doting husband back sooner than later.

Not even hours later, loud metal clashes and bangs from the basement jerked you awake. You shot up and dashed straight to Ford worried that something might’ve happened. Did he get injured? A part fell on him? Was he trashing the place? Shaking your head ridding of those thoughts. Running towards the basement fueled with adrenaline and a power nap is not ideal but the situation called for it.

You got there as quick as you can and witnessed a rather vulgar argument between your husband and Fiddleford leading to the latter walking out and bumping your shoulder muttering unpleasant words towards Ford.

Peering out from the basement stairs, on the other side of their makeshift divider was a big glowing construction whirring with power. “Oh my god” those were the only things that you could mutter in that moment. The machine was… working. It was finally working. After months of sleepless nights, exhausted arguing, they finally made it work giving you hope that things will soon get back to normal, or as much as it used to be.

Ford felt your presence and looked at you like a mad-man, eyes crazed with no sign of sanity. It made you question if the man standing ahead of you was really the guy you married. “It finally worked! The math finally made sense. Do you understand, Y/N?! This is our key to figuring out all these anomalies.” You took a step back your back against the door while he tries to coax you in joining him. “No, Ford, this doesn’t look safe”.

Ford turned his back to you, staring at his creation. “Fiddleford said the same thing” he mused, “but please, beloved, I won’t let you be in any danger”. His reassuring voice was enough to put you in some ease as you walked to him extending his hand.

He held you by your waist supporting your trenbling body, guiding you to admire their creation. Observing some sparks of electricty dancing across the ground and bouncing off the walls. Ford was explaining to you how it works, how he plans to use it, what they should do next and all that but one look at your alarmed face gave him all the hint he needed to keep quiet and let you process all this.

He was so enamored by this portal he built, you both did not realize the glass dividing the area was slowly cracking. Only took some more volts of current to run by it to shatter and allow the portal to suck you in.

It happened so fast. Ford tried grabbing you but the force was too much, pulling you in within seconds. You managed to maneuver yourself to grab on the portals frame. Using all your strength pulling your body out to ask for help one last time before you were completely lost somewhere some time in space.

“Ford, help me!” The last words his lover spoke before getting lost in the oblivion haunts him in his every waking hour. He tried consulting Bill about this, how to get you back, but Bill was adamant about the situation, believing that Y/N was just a hurdle to their masterplan. He spent too many lonely nights missing you and regretting what he has done, it was driving him imsane. This lead to him calling quits with Bill which ultimately made the polygon mad.

Alas, he struck the courage to contact his twin after years. This was not an easy decision for him but to set up his grand scheme of finding you in the vast universe, he had to have his brother fit the missing link.

Ford explained everything to Stan, or as much as his twin needed to know but things did not go exactly as planned. He was planning to portal jump, sure, but not get sucked into it accidentally. He found it somewhat humorous that he ended up the same way his lover left, through the portal—asking for help.

Journal log no. 176? 177. Two years, 18 dimensions, 3 timelines. I saw them again. Different hairstyle but with that same aloof smile. Happy in this dimension with me, alternate universe me. I still live to regret that day. It also appears that she is also being tracked by the space-time continueom agencies (noted from the encounter at the do-over dimension). Just what in the world did my Y/N get to?…

Journal log no. 320+. It has been almost 10 home years if I calculated it correctly. Still no sign of my Y/N in this timeline. From the dwellers of this dimension, it appears that the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron has laid low on the investigation of their whereabouts. It has become harder tracking them down, maybe they learned new tricks. Best to take a note of this…

Journal log __ . I have lost track of days in this dimension. Some part of this dimension are mirrors that behaves like looking glasses. Upon my first arrival, a mirror reflected Y/N staring back at me. As I am writing this, I am still formulating probable hypothesis that could explain their reflection on mine. Seeing them again after so long makes me yearn for them more. If only I h

A zipping sound ripped from a distance away from Ford as he's trying to journal his discoveries.

“Time to go” quickly packing all his materials shoving it in his makeshift bag careful not to drop any while going on another leap. He looked back at those men? Aliens? Whoever those guys are they are pretty hot on his trail. Getting too close for his own comfort. And too many close calls with them than Ford will admit.

“Get him!” The smallest tentacle humanoid man commanded or something similar of the sort, it’s another universe language he has yet to decode. Learning the tongues became much more difficult since he accidentally stumbled on a rebellion matched with a bounty picture of your face displayed in every available surface they can stick it on to. Knowing you, whatever you did there most likely called for it or he hopes so, anyway.

Muttering some curses he took his grand leap and entered another dimension. Not once did he look back.

This time it looked like another parallel timeline of his home universe. Ford walked around pin pointing important anomalies, most of them minor like an extra toe on a cat or a bird with butterfly wings. He slumped down under a tree near the opening of the forest to draw these creatures. Pulling out his journal, he realized something in this dimension feels right, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belong. Another minor anomaly in a dimension filled with other anomalies. It made him feel normal, but not complete. Ford sniffled his tears back overwhelmed by the feeling of missing you. He never stopped looking for you. Eyes scanning every place hoping to see you again, waiting for him, happy with him.

Coast is clear and the sun was slowly setting. It lulled Ford to take a nap. Closing his eyes trying to remember what you look like. It’s been years since he last saw you. In every universe and timeline you were in, they did not look like you, his Y/N. Something was always off, but one thing remained constant— you were always happy together with him. Ford chuckled bitterly. Only in the universe he lived in was he alone. It was unfair, but he did this to himself. He regrets all the time he spent with Bill than his own spouse. His only lover, to think that fame and knowledge blinded him to put you in danger.

A soft thud was heard from the tree he was resting on, followed by a feeling of being watched made chills ran down his spine. Ford became hyper-aware looking, searching, for anything. Standing up quickly, he was ready to dash for it but for unknown reason he stood his ground. His feet felt glued to the ground, waiting for whatever it was to emerge from the trees’ shadows. The now dark forest was eerie and he could not risk getting hurt in another dimension. A pitter patter of steps from the forest heading his way made him draw his gun aiming at the darkness. His fingers at the trigger, steady.

“Fordsy?”

His breath hitched. Hands trembled. A figured appeared out of the dense forest. Face to face with the gun he was ready to fire. His heartbeat was so loud it was almost all he can hear. Seeing you, still perfect after so many years. With gray hairs and past your prime, yet you still had the same effect on him. Decades or more has passed but the feelings remained the same.

Both of you did not dare to take a step. You feared that this is all in your head, a fragment of your imagination that you did not want to go away. The air was still, and the silence deafening. You can’t take it much longer and you run up to him. Ford took you in with open arms.

He hugged you tight, not willing to let go. Never again will he let you go. All those years of longing and you’re finally back in his arms. He stared at your eyes, filled with the love and adoration like the days you were married and living with each other. You took a step back and slapped him. Hard.

“How dare you!” You angrily muttered to him. Voice tight but not so loud to disturb the silence. “This?! This is what you were trying to make?” Shoving a pointed finger to his shoulder blade. Ford was hurt, but he knew he deserved that anger. “We were always together! In every dimension I went to, even in our past, did you know how much it hurt seeing us together? Knowing that every version of me is happy and loved while I am trying to go back home to a husband who’s cheating on me with a guy!” Y/N rambled exasperated. Your cheeks felt wet, not realizing the tears already started falling. All those years of resentment and anger to your husband resurfaced. “And you know what the worst part is?” You sniffled trying to sound brave “I still love you! And at times I feel like a fool for doing so.”

Ford was confused with what to feel to say the least. He felt sad you had to endure being lonely, longer than he had been. Joy? That you still love him despite his wrong doings. Humour as he realized that you thought Bill as a mistress. That made him crack a small smile which you noticed. You turned around calling him a jerk while wiping your tears muttering cusses.

“Dearest” he tried calling out to you. “You know you’re the only one I love right?” He cooed, still not getting over the fact that he had someone else. He reached out to you gently, wrapping his arms around you. His chest at your back as you felt his breathing on your neck. “Y/N, please face me, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your beauty.” Ford purred. What else can you do but look at him again, you reached your hand to the cheek you hit and soothed it for a bit. “I’m sorry for hitting you” you muttered looking at his eyes. “It was deserved” he replied sheepishly avoiding your gaze. The tension was as thick as the dense forest behind you and you can’t take it anymore.

You pulled him down by grabbing the collar of his coat to give him a kiss. A bit stunned Ford was but he warmed up to it. Breathing a sigh of relief, finally in the arms of his Y/N, with no plans of letting her go.

They trudged into the woods, conversing on what they witnessed and all the universe they jumped, comparing notes and journals. You proudly showed him yours as you stated “I was just copying you but it became a scrapbook of some sort”. Inside were trinkets from dimensions folded into the paper with drawings and detailed descriptions of things you saw. Ford was more of interested with the folded wanted poster between those pages. He took it out and observed it closely. “Yeah, I became part of their council for a while,” you said which earned a questioning eyebrow raise from your husband. You raised your hands in protest “Well, I didn’t know that fruits were their money! I was hungry”. This made him laugh and it sounded like music to your ears. Mr. All seriousness laughing with you again, everything felt perfect.

Until the familiar space ripping nearby brought you both back to reality. Whipping your heads towards that sound, Ford exclaimed “I’m getting too old for this”. Grabbing your hand he lead you the forest clearing and pulled out his dimension jumper and you followed suit.

“We are now easily trackable since we are together so we need to be extra cautious” Ford explained as you both explore the city-esque universe you landed in. “Do you think we’d ever go back home?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. Ford turned to you “I trust Stan. It might take a while to be honest.” You nodded in respond, still not giving yourself false hope. “But I’m with you Y/N, and anywhere is better when you’re by my side.” His voice was so sincere you can’t help but believe him. You held him interlocking your digits together. His six fingers perfectly hugging your hand as you both jumped into another dimension unprepared but together.

word count: 2.5k words

woop woop first published fic! should i make a part 2?

[goddamnitmahtin]

How I think it would go if I ended up inside a tumbler dc x dp universe

Okay so falling through a portal into Crime Alley? Not the worst thing that’s ever happened. Definitely not the best either though. Phone? Gone. Money? Gone. Mental and emotional stability? Was gone before this ever happened. So this is fine…

The dark streets and the sun’s refusal to come out of the clouds literally ever would probably scare most people but honestly it was a nice vacation from bright light. The city itself was gods awful and hella unsafe but hey- it had aesthetic you know? The only thing that really made it hard to live here was the fact that no one wanted to hire me.

“You look like one of them Wayne kids. Don’t even bother with me. Just go back to your mansion and ask Brucie if you need cash.”

Ah. Well. I would if I actually was “one of them Wayne kids.” Alas I was not. Eventually I was rejected enough times that I started to contemplate whether or not “asking Brucie” would actually work. According to locals he seems ditzy enough and adopted more children than he could keep track of. Was it a stupid idea? Absolutely. Was I gonna try it anyways? Fuck yeah.

Anyways that’s how I ended up living in the walls of Wayne Manor for like a month.

…

To be honest? It wasn’t that hard to get in. I looked the part so to speak with black hair and blue eyes so when I hopped into the back seat of a fancy looking limo, the driver just kind of assumed? and drove me right to the manor.

It was late and it seemed like there wasn’t much staff in the house itself. Just some old butler guy that looked like he knew way too much. About what I couldn’t tell you but he had that vibe that he’s seen enough death to know when to not ask questions.

“Master Wayne?” I looked at the man. He totally knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. He had that look in his eye. But he was playing along.

“Uh yeah. I’m just gonna go grab some food real quick and then leave,” maybe if I just bounced from the joint after a meal he wouldn’t tell anyone?

The butler nodded, “I will prepare you a meal then and have it ready for you in the dining room.” Holy shit he was actually playing along for real. Okay well then.

After exploring the place a little, it seemed pretty empty at the moment, I went to the dining room and sure enough this butler guy had actually made me some food. And it was fucking good. After living on the streets for several months at this point, this was the best thing ever.

I ate as much as I could, shoveling food into my face. This was the first real meal I had been able to really eat since spawning into Gotham. Hell it was the first real meal since even before that.

After I ate as much as I could, I stole as many bread rolls I could fit into my pockets and was about to leave just like I had promised I would when I heard voices that did not belong to the butler guy.

I uh… well I didn’t make the best decision when I hopped through the wall to hide. I was expecting to find another room on the other side but no, these wall were thick and I could stand comfortably in the space between the plaster on either side of me, given I didn’t bump into a wire or two that was running along the studs.

I was planning to leave once the coast was clear but ended up passing out as the exhaustion of constantly fighting off muggers and evading goons from various villains (not me mention I hadn’t slept in nearly 72 hours) caught up with me.

After that I just kind of… forgot to leave? It was easy enough to get around the manor just inside the walls and whenever I did need to get somewhere in the manor where people could see me, I was most of the time mistaken for someone else who also lived there.

“Oh hey Dick,” said by a sleep deprived and slightly delirious man I later learned to be named Tim as he headed out one day.

“Tim go to bed,” said by a just as, if not more, sleep deprived man who was older than the rest that I figured was Bruce. He had been in the library and had seen me walk by.

I once got a wave from a blonde girl who seemed to be on a mission to get somewhere.

Only the butler who I learned was called Alfred seemed to really grasp that I was in the house at all. And I knew this because he kept leaving plates of food or cookies or even sometimes small handfuls of candies out for me to find. Sometimes he would even give the wall a little tap to tell me he left me something.

Life in the walls of Wayne Manor was alright enough. That was until I kind of… well I got bored. I figured that if I could pull off pretending to be one of them in passing and even for short conversations, why not try to up the wager a little? For fun.

So during one of the family dinners that they held together sometimes, I just kind of… sat down at the table. And started eating with everyone.

At first it was pretty easy to keep my head down and not be super noticeable. Bruce hardly looked up from his food and everyone else looked too tired to really think about how many people were actually at the table.

That was until a tank of a man walked in and sat at the table, late for the function. He reeked of death. The amount of anger and grief this guy had oozed out of him and it was honestly suffocating.

“Hey B, when did you adopt another one?” Jason asked as he sat down.

“I didn’t-?” Bruce looked up from his food and scanned the table, his eyes eventually falling on me, “… who are you?”

Shit

“Ah- well…” I didn’t get to really explain before Bruce spoke again.

“And why didn’t anyone tell me someone was in our house?”

“Ah well I just kinda assumed,” said Tim.

That got a lot of murmurs of agreement from the rest of the table, Damian giving a pointed, “Given your track record Father, you cannot blame us.”

Bruce sighed and looked back at me, a very tired man, “What are you doing here?”

“I uh… I’m here for the food mostly.” It was all I could really think to say at the moment.

The air hung thick with tension as we all sat silently for a longer time than I was really comfortable with. That was until I heard a familiar voice.

“Hey guys, sorry for being so late. I would have gotten a ride from Jason but I had to work a little later than I wanted to.”

Motherfucker.

I whipped my head around to look at the man that just walked in, “DANNY?!”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hello! I hope you're doing well 🥰

If the requests are open could you do some headcanons for Trevor, Sypha and Alucard with a court jester S/O? (They may be currently courtless). They're fun and snarky and they love their partners laugh however rare it may be - so they make it their mission to get them to crack up as often as possible.

I just think it'd be really cute lmao

Thanks!

 A/N: Oh my gosh! This is such a cute ask! @metkapop Sorry if it’s bad, I just could not focus at all today.

🎭 Castlevania Trio w/ A Court Jester S/O HC: 🎭

Trio: 

If anyone could use some cheering up, it’s these three lol.

After all the three have been through, genuine laughter is hard to come by. 

That’s where our Court Jester S/O comes in. 

They’re smart, and quick-witted, and pretty fast on their feet. They probably come into the trio’s life sometime after S4 ends. Currently courtless, they were traveling in search of a new court when they came across Village Belmont- a small but thriving new settlement, complete with a huge castle right in the middle, so they assumed there must be some sort of royal court inside. 

They’re very impressed by the way things are run/ruled: it’s not exactly a democracy, but it certainly isn’t a monarchy either, which sort of takes the pressure off. It’s easier to be naturally comedic when you don’t have to tailor all of your humor towards one /almighty/ ruler. 

They’re immediately drawn to the trio. I mean, who wouldn't be? Lol. But it’s more than mere fascination, they feel a sort of responsibility to cheer them up. Hearing their stories, hearing of all the trials and trauma they went through, our Court Jester makes up their mind to do everything in their power to make each of the trio laugh. 

Trevor: 

Trevor is the second hardest of the group to make laugh. He’s not against humor, and he has a habit of making witty comments under his breath, but he’s tired as all hell. It’s hard to laugh when you’re just so exhausted. After all, it’s not every day you get in a fight with Death and win. Needless to say, the guy needs some recovery time. 

But he does love a good sarcastic joke, especially if it’s teasing Alucard, or poking light fun at any of the superstitions the villagers have. Knowing so much about the truth of monster hunting it’s easy to sort of scoff/laugh at other people’s ignorance surrounding it. 

For example, one night, there were rumors an untethered group of vampires was heading in the castle’s general direction. Whether they were hellbent on bloodshed or negotiation was another question entirely, one that mattered not to the people. 

Going about his day, Trevor kept smelling garlic everywhere, which was odd, because there wasn’t any garland or garlic visible. After the stench became unbearable (it kept making Sypha’s morning sickness worse), he sought out Greta for answers. 

At the time Greta was conversing with our Court Jester S/O, laughing about something they said. When Trevor interrupted and asked why the hell he kept smelling garlic everywhere, Greta confided that a few of the villagers got in their heads that if they bathed in garlic water, vampires couldn’t touch them… To which our Jester replied, “Oh yeah. Because seasoned food is way less enticing.” 

Trevor let out a chuckle but otherwise held his tongue. It was only when he made it back inside to Sypha that he broke down in a fit of laughter as he relayed the information. The two’s hysterics could be heard outside. It was the perfect combination of sleep deprivation and hilarity that sent Trevor over the edge. 

From that day forward, whenever Trevor was in desperate need of a laugh, Jester would sneak a bulb of garlic into one of his pockets, before hiding and awaiting the snickers that were sure to follow. 

Sypha: 

Sypha laughs the most, although, not as much as she used to before meeting Trevor and going on this journey with him. The last few months they spent together on the road changed the way she looked at people and life. She’s still positive and always wants the best for everyone, but she’s hesitant, and much more guarded now. 

With Trevor back, everything seemed possible again. She didn’t feel as alone and lost. But there’s still a lot she has to carry. Being pregnant, leading a village, watching over Alucard, and helping Trevor heal take up most of her energy, leaving little left for an appreciation of humor. 

That doesn’t deter her Court Jester S/O though, nope! Not at all! They just try harder to see Sypha smile. 

They help her with whatever chores Sypha’s doing at the moment, making pleasant conversation, and trying some banter. When that doesn’t work, Jster opts for a more physical approach. They offer to carry a stack of papers down to the cellar before tripping and falling three-stooges-style down the stairs. The paper goes flying everywhere, like confetti. But before Sypha can even blink, they pop back up, their little bells jingling as they do so: “I’m okay!” Cue paper continuing to fall comedically around them. 

Sypha is stunned with concern for a moment before she starts to giggle. One giggle, then twp, before she’s holding her swollen belly laughing. “That was perfect,” she says. “But for safety purposes, let’s try not to do that again.” 

Jester is careful, but they don’t stop the physical humor completely. They love making moves, even Sypha can’t see coming. For example, when Sypha uses her Speaker magic to conjure floating ice steps, Jester will try to climb up onto it from below, even going as far to get a ladder if they have to, just to slide themselves over the edge and start to do pull-ups on it. Yes, it’s slippery and hazardous, but Jester knows how to fall. They’ve done it so many times, they’re practically an expert by now lol. 

The sheer zaniness of Jester’s actions never fails to bring a knowing smile to Sypha’s face. She just asks that they promise not to act that way when her baby comes around, lest they teach her kid any ideas. 

Alucard: 

Alucard is by far the hardest to make laugh. He’s much more introverted and stoic than the other two. That’s not to say he doesn’t laugh or doesn’t enjoy humor- he does, but it’s much quieter and more subtle than the others. 

Alucard was under a lot of pressure at the end of S4, especially before Trevor seemingly returned from the dead. His stress levels were through the roof, even if he tried hiding it. 

In all the chaos, the one thing Alucard found brought him the most joy was playing with the kids in the village. He liked hearing them laugh as he chased after them from above, or snuck up on them when playing hide and seek. It reminded him so much of how his parents would play with him when he was a little boy growing up in the castle. 

This of course doesn’t go unnoticed by his Jester S/O, who makes a secret pact with the orphaned children to play a funny prank on Alucard when he’s least expecting it. 

The timing just so happened to work out perfectly. It happens just after the first snow of the season. The ground becomes coated in heavy, packing snow- perfect for making snowmen and snowballs. Jester and the children get bundled up and build two modest, unsuspecting forts. Then Jester asks Alucard to come help them referee the children's snowball fight. With a bit of begging, Alucard relents, happy to give Trevor and Sypha some alone time with their new baby. 

Unbeknownst to Alucard however, is that he is the intended target of the snowball fight. And that the two forts are stocked full of pre-made snowballs ready to launch on hidden catapults, perfect for surprisingly even the smartest of dhampir. 

Once Alucard gets into position, and gives the signal for the fight to begin, the kids unleash their snowball fury. They get a good few solid hits in before Alucard’s brain catches up to the fact he’s been bamboozled. He makes a move to super-speed away but not before Jester and a handful of other older kids tackle Alucard to the ground. Yes, they all end up getting pulled with snowball after snowball from their makeshift catapult contraption, but the snow in their hair and all over their clothes is well worth it. 

Alucard, covered in snow and ice, and now freezing children throws his head back and laughs- a deep genuine laugh. 

How surprising human joy is to him, even after all of this time. It’s infectious, and Alucard finds himself grateful to be amongst friends. 

After everyone’s nose starts to freeze, he ushers the children back inside their respective homes, promising to play with everyone again tomorrow. 

Once he and Jester are back inside, he offers to make tea for the two of them. Jester of course accepts graciously, still warming themselves by the fire. Alucard leaves for the kitchen, but not before lobbing one perfectly formed snowball right at Jester’s back. Revenge was a dish best served cold after all. 

I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, don’t forget to Reblog! 

Once again, the cute daisy chain divider is courtesy of @cafekitsune !

[safety-writes-noms]

Midnight Snack

Yay! We reached 200 followers so im just gonna put out a little short story for you guys as a thank you :D

This story has vore in it! It’s all sfw and nonsexual!!!! If you don’t like that, then just ignore this and click away.

Summary; Miguel hasn’t been taking care of himself lately so you decide to make sure he doesn’t keel over and die from exhaustion.

—

Now, you knew beforehand that Miguel is a man dedicated to his job, but this is unreasonable. 

“A week?” He avoids your probing gaze expertly as you frown at him from his desk. “That’s how long you haven’t slept? Do you know how bad that is??”

”I’m busy. I can’t sleep.” He responds with a little shrug, as if it isn’t that big of a deal. As if his skin isn’t worryingly pale and the shadows under his eyes stretch deep. If it weren’t for the fact that you had forced him to eat on a fixed schedule, you assume he would’ve also skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner regularly. While his determination is admirable, it’s seriously worrying to see him in this disheveled state. 

His hair is all mussed up and his eyes are blank, staring uncomprehendingly at the bright monitors covering the entirety of his desk. You scowl, crossing your arms as he steadily ignores you.

”Miguel! Come on, big guy, look at me,” You tap one of his hands and he tears his eyes away from the holographic report to stare at you. “This can’t be healthy. You gotta take a break, man.”

His brows furrow. 

“I can’t. I have to — I have to make sure everything’s fine. Everyone.” He shakes his head stubbornly and you can’t help but huff. He’s pausing, blinking slowly and dragging his eyes back open laboriously as he struggles to function normally, much less hold up a conversation. He’s probably only staying awake through sheer will and spite.

“You can do that after you’ve gotten a good rest, Miguel. You’re gonna end up collapsing or something.” If you could, you’d grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Maybe that’d get some sense into him. Unfortunately, since you’re about the size of his pinky, you settle for pushing at his hand. 

He barely pays you any mind, though he seems pretty out of it in general. He’s not listening. He’ll run himself to the ground, and while it’s not your job to care for him, you’re going to anyway since that’s what a good friend does. Plus it would kinda suck if the leader of the Spider Society died from sleep deprivation. 

“Lyla. Turn the computer screens off, but leave the lights dimmed at 20%,” You call and the glowing hologram flickers to life next to you. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” She salutes cheerfully and the bright orange interfaces go dark. Lyla promptly glances at Miguel and grimaces. “Oh. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, boss?”

Miguel musters up a vague frown, bracing himself heavily against the metal of his desk.

“Hey! I needed those. Turn them back on.” He bristles but the words are lukewarm. He has to be completely exhausted because he barely even fights back. Lyla clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

”Nuh uh, I don’t think so.” She wags a finger at him. He bares fangs, though he looks resigned. That’s a pretty good sign. Means he’s pretty close to giving up.

”I made you.”

”Actually, Xina did.” 

“Lyla — “

You clear your throat as loudly as you can and Miguel turns to look at you, irritated. 

“This is your fault,” He mutters sullenly, perfectly audible to your ears. Unrepentant, you grab at one of his fingers again and tug until he grudgingly flips his hand, showing his palm. You hop in easily, keeping steady as he carefully brings you up to his face so you can feel the full extent of his watery scowl. ”Are you happy with yourself?”

“I’ll be happy when you decide to go to sleep.” You bite back and he sighs loudly. 

“If I sleep for a couple of hours, will you get off my case?” He asks exhaustively and you nod your head grudgingly after a moment of contemplation. A couple of hours isn’t the best but you’ll negotiate with him later. 

Lyla claps her hands together happily. 

“Yay! This is great,” She turns to you and glitches up to you, holding her hand out. You take it and the two of you shake in mutual respect. Miguel just watches with a defeated sort of air. For a man who’s usually so stiff and stern, it’s only at the dead of night that he lets himself crumble. You find it somewhat touching that he trusts you enough to show his flaws, even though he pushes against your care most of the time. 

“You’ll both be the death of me,” He groans and Lyla sticks her tongue out at him. 

“I’m actually trying to keep you alive, thanks,” She snarks back before vanishing in a dizzying whirl of golden sparks. Her disembodied voice echoes from the ceiling. “Also, you’re locked out of the computer system for the rest of the night — unless it’s an emergency that needs your assistance. Have a good night, boss!”

Miguel’s head snaps up at her last words before he just sits down heavily in his creaky swivel chair. His head comes down with a loud thunk, the hand with you in it still held aloft. You wince. That couldn’t have felt good. 

You hop off easily, absorbing the impact with a roll as you poke at his cheek. 

“This is no place to take a nap,” You scold.  “Think of the back pain you’ll feel when you wake up tomorrow.” 

He makes a muffled noise of annoyance, but pulls himself up regardless. Miguel sets his hand down in front of you again, which you clamber into quickly. He raises it up to his shoulder, and you take residence there as he begins walking over to the cushy couch shoved in the corner of his rather massive office. The kids had smuggled it in somehow and it just never left. Now, it’s main purpose is for movie nights and the occasional nap or two. 

He slowly lugs his body onto the cushions with a quiet grunt, making sure that you don’t get knocked off with the motion. Even when he’s half asleep and tired out of his mind, he’s still unimaginably careful while handling you. While it’s appreciated now, it can be a bit stifling when out on the field. You just happen to come from a universe smaller than his, you’re not made of glass.

”Two hours. Then I’m going back to work.” He says, phasing away his suit to reveal rumpled but soft looking clothes underneath. It’s some sort of futuristic fashion with a high open collar and unimaginably soft fabric. 

“A whole night.”

”Three hours.”

”A whole entire night.” You insist stubbornly and he blinks.

”… Five hours.” 

“Miguel.”

He huffs, aiming a glare at you with little to no heat. 

“I can’t take that long of a break. I have things to fix and repair. And missions to coordinate.”

You raise an unamused eyebrow. 

“The other spiders can take care of that, Miguel. You have hundreds of incredibly smart people who are willing and eager to help. And Lyla can do that last one. She’s connected to everything.” Miguel still looks hesitant so you decide to sweeten the deal and play your trump card. “Look. I’m tired too, y’know? If you agree to sleep until morning, I’ll let you eat me.”

He’s silent for the count of five before he shifts slightly. 

“Right now?” He raises a brow at you and you nod. 

“Yup. I don’t really mind it, y’know. I think it’s comfy.” Miguel looks faintly confused but seems to be considering his choices. 

“… Fine. A whole night’s sleep.” He finally settles on, and you slip down from his shoulder to his chest, squinting through the darkness you know he can see clearly through. Miguel hesitates for a moment before gently grabbing you from between his thumb and forefinger, lifting you up to his head. 

You dangle from his hold, blinking as he apparently works things out in his head, sharp eyes examining you carefully despite the fact that he has gulped you down before with relative ease. 

“Alright. The watch will make sure you’re fine. Just call me or send me an alert through it and I’ll get you out. Got it?” He asks and you nod eagerly. 

He opens his maw wide and though you can’t really see in the dim light, you can see the yawning abyss of darkness in front of you, highlighted by sharp white teeth and fangs. His breath whooshes over you, making shivers wrack through your body despite the relative warmth of it. You reach up and tap one of the fingers holding you up, signaling that you’re ready and he makes a quiet hum of acknowledgement. 

Miguel inhales slowly and slowly lowers you into his mouth. The first sensation you get is wet. Saliva soaks into your suit and you slip a little, bracing a hand against the slippery soft flesh of his tongue. The second is temperature. Everything is moving around you, so wonderfully alive and warm. His tongue curves underneath you, the powerful muscle shifting so it can wrap around you loosely like an oversized blanket.

His mouth shuts with a quiet click of teeth and all of the faint light from outside is cut off, leaving you within the darkness of Miguel’s body. You go slack and still, letting him absentmindedly taste you, push you from one cheek to the other subconsciously. 

You feel him soak you in spit, not protesting or fighting back as he readies you for the journey below. Miguel is still gentle, careful. Nothing is too rough or hurts at all, even when his tongue tentatively presses you up against the hard palate of the roof of his mouth. After a long moment, he tilts his head back, just barely.

You slide toward his throat, squeezing down the tight fleshy tube accompanied by a couple of large gulps to help get you down entirely. The sound of his swallows is loud and for a moment it’s all you hear as you’re moved down. It’s not a bad pressure and you’re mostly used to it as you slip down from his esophagus and into his belly. 

And man, it’s so much warmer here and also so much more comfortable. The soft flesh here contracts slightly around your body as you find a comfortable position to lie in, tucking yourself against a wall with a yawn. You press a hand against the mass of warmth and squishiness under your fingers, blinking when it ripples across the entire expanse of his stomach. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Miguel clears his throat, his voice oddly loud and muffled at the same time.

”You okay? Need me to get you out?” He asks, and you make a lazy hum in response.

“No, I’m fine, man,” You sink deeper into the comforting warmth and you hear something like a quiet chuckle from above. It’s good to hear him sound relaxed for once. God knows he needs some relaxation anyway. 

“Okay,” he sounds tired and everything is still before your surroundings shift and you tumble somewhat quickly into the side wall of his stomach. He must’ve turned over on his side. ”… Thank you. You care too much about me.”

You frown, picking up on his meaning quickly.

”Well yeah, you’re my friend. Besides, if I was working myself to death, you would’ve done the same, right?” You say and he huffs, laying a palm over his stomach. You can feel it in the way the slimy-squishy walls indent around you. 

“It’s not the same.”

”How so?”

”It just isn’t.” Miguel says firmly and you roll your eyes.

”Agree to disagree. Also, go to sleep! I have no idea how you’ve stayed awake this long. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” You promise, pressing your hand against the closest “wall”. He makes a quiet noise, but it’s quickly drowned out by the familiar sound of rumbling vibrating through his entire body. The volume of his contented purrs are quiet enough that a person outside would have to strain their ears to hear it.

From where you are right now, the comforting noise is steady and somewhat loud. It’s not overwhelming though — it just blends into the other sounds of his stomach growling and his other organs working somewhere else in his body. You stretch and settle down with a quiet yawn. 

Then everything shifts around you, contracting and moving to cradle you securely in complete warmth and comfort. 

“Goodnight.” Miguel’s low voice echoes from above and you close your eyes. 

“G’night.”

You fall asleep that way and he quickly follows, a hand settled carefully over his stomach and fully content.

[melodygatesauthor]

Feeling You Can't Fight - Chapter One

Moon Boys X m!Reader

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - Pride Event Fic 🏳️‍🌈

Written for the @flightlessangelwings pride event!

Summary

After replacing the loathsome former staff manager of the National Art Gallery in London, you find yourself all too interested in one of your employees in particular. Manager and employee relationships aren't allowed, and even if they were, you aren't sure if the nervous gift shoppist would be interested in you anyway. There's only one way to find out...

Reader Inclusivity

Reader is not race coded, is a cis man, taller than MK by a few inches, British, ex military, has a big peen

Tags/Warnings (for entire series)

NSFW, writer is NOT from the UK so please be gentle, I did my best with UK terms and such, smut, anal sex, oral sex, anal creampies, cum eating, cum swallowing, rough sex, Marc has DID, reader has mild PTSD, PTSD symptoms, trauma responses, semi-public sex, praise kink, fluff, comfort, angst, romance, love, forbidden relationship (boss and employee), minor physical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

The front doors to the National Art Gallery in London stood before you, more menacing than you ever remembered them, even when you would go there as a child. It took a lot to shake you, you’d been to hell and back before, but starting a new job was nerve wracking for anyone. When you stepped into the lofty entryway, you were hit immediately by the smell of old books and cedarwood. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being in a museum, but it was a little different somehow when you were entering as a manager versus being a normal patron.

You remembered the phone call you got from an old friend during your time serving in the British Armed Forces. Apparently, the old staff manager of the museum was getting canned, and they needed a replacement quickly. He said that you had the qualifications they needed, and you thought it would be a good opportunity to start a new chapter in your life. You used to be so good at handling high pressure situations, but now you found yourself holding your travel mug like it was your lifeline as you walked further into the building.

You stepped up to the guest services area. There were a couple of receptionists that gave you a pleasant greeting, along with a man whose name tag read J.B. You waved, giving him a friendly smile. You weren’t usually an overly expressive kind of guy, but you didn’t want to make a bad first impression. From what you understood, your predecessor, Donna, wasn’t the nicest to the staff, so you wanted to try and separate yourself from her as much as you could.

“Mornin’,” You said, “J.B. is it?” You raised an eyebrow, pointing to his name tag.

“Yeah, are you the new boss?” He gave you a nervous smirk.

“I am. Have you got time to show me around a bit? Get me to my office and all that?” You grabbed the strap of your bookbag.

“Mornin’ J.B.!”

You turned and saw a disheveled and sleep deprived man shuffling toward you. He had a broad smile despite his exhausted appearance. You looked down at him from where you stood. The man was nearly half a foot shorter than you were. His face dropped a little when his eyes met yours, averting his gaze anxiously. You couldn’t help taking note of the way his clothes sat just a little too large on his body, and the way his curls, while unkempt, framed his face handsomely. 

“Scotty here could take you around. Considering he’s late.” J.B. scoffed, “always late, this one.”

The one called ‘Scotty’ gave J.B. a dirty look. “It’s actually Steven, Steven with a ‘V’, but no one can ever seem to remember that.” He looked at you again, expression still less than impressed until he spoke again. “Are you the–the new boss?” His brows were turned up and drawn together. If you were being honest he looked rather…cute.

“Sure am, cheers, Steven.” You reached out a hand.

Steven shook it and nodded, “cheers.”

He was a handsome guy, cheeks rosy from running into the building quickly after being late, five minutes to be exact. You mostly found yourself fixed on his eyes. They were beautiful, dark, and they seemed to glitter in the recessed museum lights. He gulped, and chuckled nervously, pulling his hand back and rubbing his neck.

“Right well, better get goin’ then,” you urged, gesturing for him to lead the way.

“Right,” Steven said in a breathy tone, prying his eyes away from yours.

You followed closely behind, and you were amazed at the man’s ability to find something to say about everything. Literally everything. While you passed the bathrooms on the way to the staff break room where the lockers were, he told you all about the time one of the tour guides got sick and spent nearly an entire day there. When you passed the meeting room he mentioned Donna, the previous staff manager, and her meetings that, in his words, felt like an excuse for her to berate the employees she didn’t like.

What really impressed you was his vast knowledge of history, particularly where ancient Egypt was concerned. There were a few times where you wondered if he was giving you a formal tour of the museum instead of a quick guide of your new workplace.

“I’m sure the patrons love you. Sounds like you really know your stuff!” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, I just work in the gift shop, m’not a tour guide. Donna crushed that dream any time I brought it up. She could be rather nasty at times…” His eyes grew wide, “sorry, shouldn’t’ve said that. S’wrong to say that about my old boss, I know it, she was just…”

He was looking at you with eyes that begged you to understand his feelings toward his former boss. You could tell he was kind at heart, not even wanting to talk negatively about someone who treated him and so many others unfairly. You put a hand on his shoulder, realizing now how much bigger you were than him. He stood at least six inches shorter than you, and you were a bit more broad shouldered.

“She was right cunt from what I heard. No need for pleasantries,” you said, hoping it would help him feel more comfortable.

He shrugged and smiled, “yeah, yeah you could definitely say that again.”

You were going to like Steven, you could already tell by the way he seemed to be a generally pleasant person to converse with. You’d almost made it to the staff room when a woman walked out. She was wearing a black dress and she smiled at Steven on her way by. You watched how Steven’s eyes changed from nervous to dopey with a slack jaw to match when she said hi to him. It was like you were watching a little boy in school nearly collapse over his crush.

“Who’s that?” You asked as she disappeared around the corner.

“Hm?” Steven turned back to you and his expression shifted back to normal, “oh her? That’s erm…her name is Dylan. She’s a tour guide. Lovely woman.”

You nodded, “well, I’ll have to introduce m’self later, she didn’t seem very interested in talking to me did she?” You chuckled.

“Oh, well I mean…yeah she’s usually really nice. I almost went on a date with her once, mucked that all up.” He looked sad when he said that. “Guess you could give it a go, she likes steak. I know that much.” He frowned at the thought. Clearly she was a sensitive topic for him.

You patted his back, “no worries with me mate, she’s not my type.”

“Yeah well, I don’t really even have a ‘type’ and I still can’t seem to get a girlfriend.”

There was an awkward silence while you stood in the hall in front of the staff lounge. Steven just nodded and sighed. You saw his eyes flick toward the mirror against the wall and then up at you. He gulped and his cheeks slowly started to turn crimson. You looked at him with a concerned expression.

“Everything alright Steven?” You furrowed your brow.

“Y-yeah, yep, yes, right let’s get goin’ then hm?” He opened the door and gestured for you to go inside.

You walked in and saw several lockers along the wall along with a handful of employees all scattered about, mostly on their phones. They all looked at you wide-eyed when you walked in the room. It was easy to forget that you were the one in charge. It wasn’t often people looked at you like that. You cleared your throat and raised up your hand in a greeting to all the staff.

“Hello, I’m…” you told them all your name. You swore you could hear crickets despite it being midday in the middle of a museum in London. “I’m the new staff manager. You can all breathe easy, I’m not here to terrorize you, just here to make sure everyone does their job.”

Your employees all hummed their greetings before returning to their own devices, both literally and figuratively.

You leaned over to Steven’s ear, “tough crowd.”

He jumped and gasped, as though he’d forgotten you were standing right there. He gave you a polite giggle before falling into his normal nervous flurry of words.

“Y-yeah, not the most friendly bunch. They’re also not used to…not Donna so…” He looked at you and nodded, “right, the lockers are right over here. Erm, I’ll just drop off my stuff real fast and then I’ll show you where Donna’s…well…” he chuckled, “your office is.”

Steven walked over to his locker and started putting away his things. You found it endearing, the way his pants were just a little too short, showing off his crisp white socks that disappeared into his loafers. He dropped something on the floor before muttering under his breath and picking it up. You sensed that this was the norm for him. He was a little clumsy, flustered, deceptively good looking, man.

That’s your employee, you reminded yourself, shaking the thoughts that threatened to course through your mind.

“Alright, let’s get on with it shall we?” He flashed a friendly smile before you nodded and let him lead the way.

Steven was a talker, that much was evident by the way he rambled on. By the time he got you to Donna’s old office, you knew everyone’s name who currently worked there, and who had ever worked there before; you’d been given another crash course in Egyptian mythology, and you’d learned that Steven was one of the most observant people you’d ever met. He seemed to know everything about…well…everything.

“I guess I should probably get to the gift shop. Those scarab jellies aren’t gonna sell themselves,” Steven rolled his eyes and chuckled on his way out the door.

Your office wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small either. You had a nice window looking out at the front entrance of the museum. The people of London were bustling around the street, going into various shops and driving their cars. You turned when your door opened, it was John, the museum director; your good friend.

“Hey!” He said, coming up and giving you a big hug with a firm pat on the back.

He was shorter than you too. You had a tendency to tower over most people you met. He spread his arms out and gestured around the office.

“Look at you! Mr. Big Wig! How do you like your office?” He leaned on the desk with one hand.

“I like it. It’s a bit dark in here, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Good, good, listen, I’ve got to get to a meeting, just wanted to stop in and make sure you found everything alright. I sent you a memo with your job description and the scheduling and all that so if you have any questions let me know yeah?” He patted your shoulder and took his leave.

You got yourself settled in before finally looking at your emails. Sure enough your schedule and details were right where he said they’d be. It was the simple nine to five, nothing special there, except it looked like Wednesdays you were meant to come in a little later, and leave later too.

“Hm, inventory,” you muttered to yourself.

It wasn’t your idea of a fun way to spend your Wednesday nights, stuck in the museum storage room counting hippo plushies, but when you learned you would be joined by Steven, it made it not feel so bad in the end. It didn’t feel like something the boss should have to do, it seemed like something the employees should have no issue handling themselves, but you weren’t going to question it so early into your new job.

Two nights later, on Wednesday, you found yourself in the stock room waiting for the anxious gift shop employee to meet you down there. No one had shown you how to do this yet, so you were relying on him to give you the rundown. When he finally made it, he was flustered, running in and apologizing on repeat until you yelled over him.

“Steven!” You shouted in a booming voice.

He looked at you with those big brown doe eyes, “y-yeah?”

“Stop apologizing,” you gave him a friendly smirk, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He seemed surprised before letting out a sigh of relief, “well, thank goodness, that’s a first.”

“She was that bad, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You have no idea mate. Meanest lady I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowin’ in my entire life.”

You watched Steven’s eyes flick over to one of the glass picture frames on the floor that had posters for the upcoming museum event. He tilted his head as though he were listening to someone. You cleared your throat, to which he jumped and looked at you again, giving you a friendly smile and a nervous laugh.

“Sorry…though I had something’ in my teeth. Shall we then?”

Steven started showing you how to take inventory of all the items in storage, and while you paid as close attention as you could, you couldn’t help getting distracted just listening to him talk. He was animated, passionate, and had an opinion about every item he picked up. At one point he looked at you and sighed.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep ramblin’ on. Used to drive Donna mental just listenin’ to me. She used to say it was the worst part of workin’ inventory.” He clicked the scanning gun over another barcode.

“Steven if I hear you apologize one more time, I’ll have you cleaning the toilets instead of workin’ down here with me yeah?” You looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah, right, so–damn.” He chuckled, “s’harder than you think to avoid sayin’ it.”

You were focused on Steven again, and just how good looking he was. You had a clear attraction to him, despite his awkwardness and disheveled appearance. In fact, that was part of what captivated you about him. He was effortlessly handsome, and the nervousness could be quite endearing.

“What, do I have something on my face?” He asked, face turning red under your gaze.

You shook your head quickly, feeling embarrassment wash over you, “no, sorry I was just spacing out s’all.”

That was all it took for you to start the spiral that was falling in love with Steven Grant, the tardy, handsome, gift shoppist who worked under you.

Moon Knight Male Reader Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

[starmocha]

Yaaaay thanks for answering! I was so scared I wasn't making much sense lol

The way I gasped when I read MC's the one who protected Snowdrop. And then I kinda laughed cause of all the hunters out there, he had to be saved by his mom.The person who along with his father, had been very clear in not leaving the house. I imagine after the initial fear, the car ride to the hospital must've been so tense.

Zayne's reaction though 🩵 the one thing that'd make him lose his cool is if something bad were to happen to his little family. I loved that he understood his son was not only sorry but ashamed of his actions so he relented, hugged him and comforted him without coddling.

CORAL 🥺🥺🥺🥺 that boy is just the cutest, sweetest thing ever. He's being scolded, his dad is yelling but he can't stop pointing out his dad's injury. The way he just runs to him without saying much, and the way Raf calls him fishie even though his heart must still be caught on his throat with how terrified he was! And Coral still was more concerned at his dad's injury than anything else. 😭😭😭😭

love Xavier's reaction. there'd be no yelling but the way he spoke was enough to make his Srarlight realize she'd messed up. But omg the kisses on his cheek!!!! Consecutive kisses to melt away her dad's anger. This little diva knows she's her dad's everything, doesn't she?

Sylus was so perfect!!!! Loved that Mephie was also protecting her. And then when Sylus realized he was sharing her which in turn scared him. But the way she clings to him and starts spilling outvwhy she was there and promising she'd never do it again 🥹🥹🥹 and that stupid dare from her 'friends' was so real. I guess most of us go through it while growing up (wanderers not included, of course) and I especially loved how confident she was until she was face to face with the enemy and got so scared. Probably realizing she's still a kid.

(if it was me and I had to do 50 laps around the base everyday for months, I'd easily go back and throw my lazy ass in front of a wanderer lol)

Little pilot 🥺 just wanting to be like his dad cause his dad is his like his superhero. Caleb yelling, scolding and then melting completely at his son's confession. Pilot's punishment is not so bad but I guess it's the end of the world for a kiddo. Also, Caleb mentioning how MC gets annoyed when he points out Pilot's his mini-me. lmao my girl really knows no peace when it comes to that particular topic.

(And listen, about Zayne yelling in Immediate Disorder. It caught me so off guard but in a very special way. That usual tone of his, so sweet, and all of a sudden he's yelling, commanding AND punishing the prisoners. I guess a dom is a dom in every AU 🩵🩵🩵🩵)

(I'm still stuck on Raf's reaction because that entire scenario is so cute. He was so worried about his dad, knowing it was his fault, had he stayed up like he was told to, his dad wouldn't be bleeding. And Raf being so angry but then feeling so touched by his boy's concern. I love their connection 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥹🥹🥹)

I'm glad you liked them!!! It was so much fun imagining the guys in a more serious dad role and I'm glad it made sense 'cause I wrote it on 3.5 hours of sleep after working 9 hours, but I really wanted to write some of the main ideas I had before I lost them lol :'D

Snowdrop learned many lessons that day: don't disobey dad's direct orders and karma is a bitch. Of course, it had to be his mother who rescued him.

Although on a sadder note: MC, who was completely exhausted from sleep-deprivation and overworking probably only saw in the distance a child about the same size and age as hers and just acted on maternal instinct, only to realize her worst fear: it really was her own child in danger.

Little Coral has never seen his dad injured before 🥺 And to know this only happened because of his own foolish behavior. He wishes he could go back in time and prevent all of this from happening, but he's glad his dad still loves him 🥺🥺🥺

Starlight is his little princess. Almost always, Xavier is wrapped around her finger, except this time. He's holding strong and resisting her sweet kisses. Unfortunately this time, there won't be any solidarity during her punishment.

I loved writing little Birdie's part. Her bond with Sylus is just something special to me, so to write him actually mad/worried/disappointed at her was just so 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

I feel like Pilot got the worst punishment. He's getting the Farspace Punishment Regime™ rip little man. 💀 But on another note...by the time he is a young adult...he's gonna be incredibly fit, not simply because of his athletic genes....but because he was given these punishments a lot for always getting into trouble. 💀💀💀💀💀

[joysmercer]

(canon divergence, 3x20 onward)

_______________________________________

Where is she? Eddie's mind screams as he runs through the hallways. Wearing dusty non-uniform clothes in the middle of the day, after skipping morning lessons, is a beacon for teachers searching for their next detention-victim, but Eddie didn't give a crap about that on a regular day, and at this moment, he would gladly serve a thousand detentions if it meant he could reach—

"Patricia!" he calls when he catches sight of her curls just as she turns the corner to the science wing. But the history classroom door opens at that exact moment, drowning out his words with the dun of the day students complaining about the terrible substitute they had for the period. Eddie ignores them—any teacher would be better than Denby in his mind—and pushes through the crowd until he's standing…

Outside. With no Patricia in sight. Eddie swears under his breath and runs back to the house.

He starts wandering around as soon as he enters, expecting to see his ex glaring at him in the doorway, or from the kitchen, or outside his bedroom, or at the staircase, or over the balcony. But instead of a terrifying stare, he's met with empty silence everywhere he looks.

"Eddie, love, why are you stomping around like that?" Trudy asks, emerging from the laundry room with a basket against her hip and one of Victor's coats on her arm.

"You do Victor's laundry?" Eddie blurts despite himself, momentarily forgetting his dilemma.

Trudy waves him off. "It's just easier this way." She pauses, apparently only just registering his appearance, and raises an eyebrow. "You, on the other hand, are perfectly capable of doing your own—go do so before you start tracking dust through my freshly-mopped floors!"

"Got it, Trudes," Eddie grins. Just as she turns around again, he remembers what he came here for. "Wait, have you seen–"

"She was just here but ran out a few minutes ago," Trudy says sympathetically.

Eddie chooses to ignore the fact that she knew exactly who he was asking about. "Right, I'll, uh—" He looks down. "Lemme shower, then I'll head back to school if that's okay."

"Of course it is, dear." Trudy nods and disappears again.

Eddie showers slowly, dipping into Jerome's arsenal of conditioners and spending way too much time trying not to cry. He doesn't even know why he's crying, except for the fact that he's exhausted, starving, sleep-deprived, and emotionally-taxed at levels he's never been before. Yeah, that may be it.

The longer he spends in here, the longer he can avoid attempting to tell Patricia she might be in some sort of trouble—the longer he can avoid thinking about that fact at all, something that terrifies him far more than he thought possible.

"Where the absolute fuck have you been?" Fabian's voice reverberates from the hall so loudly that Eddie jumps and almost slips. He changes quickly and runs out to find Fabian lecturing Patricia about running off on her own, or something like that; whatever it is turns into a low hum in Eddie's ears the moment he catches sight of her.

"Oh, and you!" Fabian continues, rounding on him, but he hardly notices. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, he surges forward, enveloping Patricia in a hug before he can stop himself.

"Eddie? Where—I mean, are you alright?" Fabian stammers from behind him, but it isn't until Patricia coughs slightly that Eddie realizes how odd he's acting and backs away.

"Uh, sorry," he says, flushing and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Missed you guys, I guess, while I was locked in the crypt."

"You were what?" KT asks, running toward them from the stairs. "Also, hi. " Turning to Fabian, she holds up what looks like a golden toilet-paper tube and a sheet of paper and says, "Got the colors!"

I have so many questions, Eddie thinks, before fixing his attention on Patricia, who is now red as a tomato and looks like she either wants to die or for him to die. "Mind telling me what's going on?" she rasps. It's only then that he notices her bloodshot eyes and realizes that she, too, had been crying.

"I—" Eddie starts, but she grabs his hand and drags him into his room, then pushes him toward the bed (and out of her way) with one hand while roughly dragging fabian's chair across the floor and jamming it under the doorknob with the other. "Jeez, Yacker, need help rearranging the layout of this place?" Eddie quips.

"Were you really locked in the crypt?" she practically snarls at him.

Eddie nods. "When I got your text—"

"What text? I said living room, remember?"

"No, but right before, you said—"

"No, I didn't! I didn't say shit! Stop saying I said things, or meant things, or implied things, when I didn't!" she exclaims.

Eddie's hands clench into fists at his sides as he desperately tries to keep his own temper in check. He's not sure why he's getting yelled at here, only that he's pretty sure he doesn't deserve it, not when he's probably the key to her staying alive or whatever going forward. A tense silence falls over them, each daring the other to continue the argument first.

Finally, Patricia sighs and visibly deflates as she leans back against the door and closes her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm—I'm just, sorry." She looks at him, or rather, at a point just over his shoulder without making eye-contact. "You don't owe me an explanation or anything. I'm glad you're okay."

Her hair's a mess, there are bags under her eyes, and her hands are shaking so badly they may fall off, but in that moment, she had never looked more beautiful.

It hits him like a stack of bricks, right then and there.

Why she wanted to talk last night. Why she went out with Jerome earlier. Why she still has him on speed-dial, why her eyes track him when they're in a room together, why her hands brush against his whenever his own yearn for hers.

He's such an idiot.

"God, Yacker," he breathes, and for the second time that day, his feet propel him forward on their own accord before his brain has a chance to come up with words. She steps forward, meeting him halfway; he cups her face in his hands and is about to close the remaining centimeter between them when something stops him.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

Patricia, to her credit, doesn't roll her eyes. Because he's not asking for permission just for this, he's asking if she wants everything he does, if they're finally on the same page. Because he won't—he can't—lose her again.

And judging by the way she looks at him as she nods, she understands, and she agrees. When she kisses him, they melt into each other, and for the first time, it isn't excitement or flying sparks holding them together, but calmness.

Afterward, when they're curled up against each other on the bed, neither wanting to move (even though Fabian has tried multiple times to get into the room), he tells her what he saw in his vision, the images of her kicking and screaming still blaring in his mind. And she tells him about her nightmares, all the things she hid from him earlier because she was scared. They talk about why they ended, but they also talk about new beginnings.

(Eventually, they let the others in and set a plan going forward. A real plan, because it's not just Patricia in danger, it's all of them.)

And when it's all over—when the dust has settled and the demons are banished and there's nothing left to look forward to but the rest of their lives—finally, finally, there is peace.

[lamuradex]

I got some writing feedback today and I fear it may have broken me.

It wasn’t bad, or even poor feedback. It just kind of hurt.

Me having a bit of a meltdown below the cut.

So, some explanation.

Back in January, I entered the Cheshire Novel Prize. Basic sort of contest, near 2000 entrants, you enter your novel, 100 get through to Round Two, like 10 make Round Three, and the winner is selected from them. The first round results were announced back in April, but it's old hat to me because this is my third year entering.

And I have never made it past the first round.

I've been entering the same novel, Stitches of the Mind, for three years, polishing it up more and more each time. But I've never so much as made it to round two.

Now, I’m not surprised by this, and it’s mostly fine. Sort of upsetting, but my rational side tells me its fine. 100 spots out of 2000? 5% chance? How likely is that?

BUT one of the selling points of CNP is that every entrant, no matter how far they get, will receive feedback on their entry. Which is great!

This year though, the contest did a bit of a number on me. My self confidence in my writing, and all around need to be validated, has been a little fragile the past year, and the CNP do a lot to build tension concerning who’s made it through, so it was a long tense build up, months in advance, to a simple disappointing loss.

But I still had the feedback to look forward to.

The feedback usually takes a while to go out, there are a lot of people to email, and I was patient… mostly. Started to get a little antsy by mid-September. But today, 23rd of September, my feedback arrived. And it was everything I should have expected. A lot of nice praise, some stuff I can improve (though that was a little vague) and a final summary of some general tips.

And buried in all that feedback was this line:

"There is so much to like about this novel, and it was so close to progressing in the competition."

And that comment felt like it cracked my brain.

I was so close to progressing. And I didn't even know. But I'd still lost!

And I'd just been given feedback that, had I known it six months ago, could have meant I finally got to Round Two, which is honestly all I could hope for.

But discovering that I was that CLOSE TO SUCCEEDING!

FUCK!

I... don't really know what to do with all this. I know there's another editing run in my future, because of course there is, but I am still struggling to process this news. I'd have killed to get to Round Two, and receive even that little bit of validation that this novel is worthwhile! But no. I missed it by inches, if the feedback is to be believed. After three years I still missed it by inches.

I'm just a little exhausted now.

I think I need to go to bed. I'm a little sleep deprived anyway, having stayed up too late last night, trying to track down my past CNP feedback on an old computer. And then the new one miraculously arrived today. What are the odds?

But yeah, that's the meltdown I'm having.

How are you guys doing?

[gothic-mutt-rambles]

Anxiety is a truly beautiful thing, it keeps you safe, aware, and ready but sometimes the poor beast gets too excited. When they suffer you do. Anxiety is like a stupid fucking needy child, calm the heart rate, breathe, stop shaking, I want my blanket, I want my bottle ass motherfucker. I hate them sometimes, but within the anxiety and panic there’s peace. There’s them forcing you to stop and notice what’s around you, or making you get a breath of fresh air so you get to see the first peaking of dawn. Or you meet a lil cat who’s just chillin with you, enjoying the calm, enjoying the quiet. Do I wish I could live without him? Yes absolutely, but I’m glad I have my anxiety, even when they turn to panic.

It’s a beautiful morning, warm and mild but a crisp breeze makes me just barely shiver. The sky a pale grey, the aloe vera stupid, sharp, and green as always. The palm trees dancing in the breeze and one sleep deprived mutt. (Me) As much as I hate the 100°+ days I find a joy in the nights here. It’s tropical without being humid, it’s warm in all the right ways, and it makes me love my cold bedroom even more.

I haven’t had time to write or feel recently with all the stress of making rent, and getting grocery money. It’s been annoying, writing was my first love and I’ve abandoned him without meaning to. I used to write beautiful poems and stories, create complex worlds and beings to live in them, now I’m just an average guy. I mean I still draw when I get the time but even that’s turned into a way to try to make money. Man I hate capitalism.

The stupid stained rock beside me keeping me company, the smell of smoke from my neighbor, the cries of cats in the night. It’s all beautiful and peaceful in an odd way. The rumble of cars as they go about their nightly commute. The wind blowing dry leaves and dust into my face making my eyes water.

A car’s panic alarm is going off, I guess I’m not the only one panicking tonight haha. It’s kinda calming in a way, to know that this unfeeling, uncaring object is panicking, all the same as I was.

Do you ever wonder if the stars get lonely up there? Shining down on us, giving us their beautiful light. I mean the moon has the sun but who do the stars have? I guess they have each other. They have community, something a lot of humans don’t have. I feel like an outcast in my communities.

I feel like an outcast alot of the time. I feel like I’m just here not wanted, not needed. It’s a hard thought to deal with. But at the end of the day if I’m not wanted then giving those bastards my time isn’t worth it. I’ll find my people who want me one day, if not in this life then the next.

Fourteen cars have driven by me in the thirty minutes I’ve been out here. I wonder where they’re going? I wonder what stories the passengers have, or even the car themselves. Everything has a story if you think about it, and I find that beautiful and fascinating. Make that fifteen.

My story isn’t an exciting one but like all stories it deserves to be told. I may not be not be strong, or fast, or even brave but I have a story. One full of pain, triumph, and love. Maybe that’s the key, love drives us all.

It’s now 5:08a, I started this at like 4:30a and I still have more to say. Wow, when taking time to just relax and think I sure have a lot to say haha. My problem is I worry about the impossible and the inevitable. And where has that gotten me? Sitting outside after a panic attack, exhausted and deep thinking. They recommend so many contradictory things for easing panic attacks it’s funny. “Relax, distract yourself and breath” but at the same time “Let it run its course”, So what am I supposed to do? I went with the, “sit outside, get fresh air and write method” (Patton pending) it’s a rather great method ya know, you just sit outside, enjoy the night and write your heart out.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m special. Like will I make something of myself one day? I was taught if I work hard enough I can do anything (as long as I’m white and cis of course) and I am neither. Maybe I write to make an impact on someone, even if it’s just one person. Who knows.

God I’m tired, I need to go to bed. Ya know, this was good for me, all of it.

[hcrdknocklife]

"It sure would be nice to spend some uninterrupted time together, wouldn't it?" Carter agreed with a nod of his head, stifling a yawn before he rubbed at his eyes. "Oh yes, I'm always tired." He added, a soft chuckle bubbling out of his lips before he shook his head, exhaling a sigh of exhaustion as he met their gaze. "I found out the other day that I have vacation days piling up. Just say the word, and I'll cash them in. Maybe we could go out for a weekend?" He suggested, shrugging his shoulders before his smile returned to his lips upon hearing their words. "And you... you were stubborn. You still are as a matter of fact." Carter let out another chuckle as she gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you put up a fight, because if you hadn't... I wouldn't be the luckiest guy alive, would I? As guilty as I often feel for what I've been putting you through, coming home to you is the best part of my day. I wouldn't have that if you hadn't been so stubborn." He grinned, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on the top of their head. "I know I've never told you this before, and I know... it feels strange. You're probably going to wonder what's gotten into me, and get all... psychoanalytical with me. I had a long day, babe. I almost lost someone I care about. I think it was the gut punch I needed, because it made me realize that life really is so short. I might never be able to quit running into fires, or saving lives by risking my own every chance I get, but... I want you to know that I would never take any of this for granted. I would never take you for granted." Letting out another sigh as he gave their hand another squeeze, Carter looked up to meet their gaze. "Thank you, Ella. Thank you for always taking care of me." He told them, a genuine smile plastered across his lips. "God knows the kind of mess I would have been had you not barged into my life the way you did. I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful for you." No matter the kind of horrors that he had been forced to witness on the job, and no matter whom he had almost lost, knowing that Ella would be waiting for his return at the end of the day was what had often helped him get through his shifts. Every fire that he had ran into, he had ran out of because he knew that he needed to be able to get home to her. "I love you so much." Their fond smile, and the taste of their lips on hers, what more could have Carter ever asked for? He had not been this happy, truly happy, in a really long time, and he wanted to hold onto it for the rest of his life. "Oh, you know she will. She loves me." He laughed softly before he shook his head, not letting go of their hand as they entered the kitchen. "Oh, so she's the one who's keeping an I on me? I thought I would be keeping an eye on her. I heard she's been tasked with the care of my safe surrender. I know how hard that can be, especially when you have a personal connection. I'm not quite fond of it myself, but I'm sure it'll get easier in due time." Hell, was that not why they had all entered their respective professions? Carter was not exception to that, considering that he too had grown up in the foster care system, and every time he heard the alarm of the safe surrender box going off throughout the firehouse, he could only hope that the infant did not have to suffer through the struggles that he had been forced to endure during his childhood. He would say that things had turned around for him in the end. He had managed to get out of the system, and had enrolled himself at the Fire Academy, had made it out with a job, and worked his way up the ranks. He had found someone who loved him enough to deprive themselves of sleep just to make sure that he was fed, and he had his friends who had also become his family. He had done well for himself. "Fine, I know there's no arguing with you." He murmured, wrapping his arms around them from behind as they got started with the cooking. "I love you, baby."

“i know… but it would be nice to spend some uninterrupted time together for a change, wouldn’t it? we’re always so busy, both of us, and if i’m tired, you must be too. getting a full day to ourselves without having to worry about work is so rare.” what they wouldn’t do for the chance to spend even a mere weekend with carter where neither of them need to leave their home or move more than an inch away from one another. it may be a selfish desire, but if the opportunity arose right now, she knows she’d grab it with both hands. “what can i say? you caught my eye. you were clever, brave, selfless… handsome.” she smiles then, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “i couldn’t just let you go without putting up a fight first. i knew you were hesitant to let me in and believe me, i understood why. but carter, you do so much for other people. you work yourself to the bone, put yourself at risk, you save lives. you deserved someone around who would care for you the same way you care for everyone else.” they knew in their heart that person could be them — would be, if he only gave them a chance. ella has always worked hard for the things she wants in life and he was no exception. “i won’t lie and tell you that i don’t worry, of course i do. the thought of something happening to you… honestly, it makes me feel sick. i don’t know what i would do.” it’s not a thing she’s able to linger on for longer than a second, throat already feeling tighter at the mere mention. “but i’d rather stay up waiting for you every night than ever think about leaving you, or asking you to change. i love you. i’ll always love you. that makes it worth it.” they’d willingly lose out on a week's worth of sleep if it meant they would be around to welcome him back home after a long day. a full night’s rest is something she can get back another time, but there’s no replacing him. “i try my best,” they say with a fond smile. his lips on theirs, no matter how chaste, helps ease some of the troubled thoughts from their mind. "oh, i'm sure she'll love that." reluctant to let go of his hand, they hold on for as long as he’ll let them and allow themselves a brief moment of reprieve to laugh at his plans for tomorrow as they enter the kitchen. “it'll be very kind of her to keep an eye on you while i’m preoccupied.” just knowing he’s nearby should be enough to get her through, counting down the minutes until she can clock out and stay by his side for the rest of the day. “i'd say breakfast for dinner is always acceptable, so i think i can manage that. although if i drag it out just a little to spend some more time with you, try not to call me out on it.” the second she’s able to crawl into bed and rest her head upon his chest, the weariness will no doubt be quick to drag her into sleep. surely an extra few minutes couldn't hurt.

[harrysmimi]

Handsome

Synopsis: One where Harry harbours a little concert crush on someone

Ps. I dreamt this :)

More of my work

YN was very excited to go see Harry finally!

She have been saving for it for ages that she did not hesitate to go just a tiny bit over budget when buying the pit tickets. Her friend was coming too with her. She has been his fan since his first solo album came out and have been wanting to go see him since his very first tour.

Camping out from the sunrise, being exhausted was worth it if she got to see the person who literally kept her sane during her most difficult of times. In fact even save her at some extent.

She was the typical fangirl. But didn't had any of his merch or his vinyls because she couldn't afford it. That doesn't make her any less of a fan. She spent a little too much on the tickets so she had to stick to her closet to pick out an outfit.

She didn't care. Literally. About what she wore. She wore a gown she'd sewn from a bedsheet for an Instagram reel (she just had a public account where she posted a video of her making that dress and it sort of blew up, got about ten thousand likes). It had big puffy sleeves with green leaves printed on the fabric. She didn't know where she'd wear the dress anyway so she pulled it out today.

Though she didn't felt like it, YN did put in some efforts in how she looked, according to her she might bump into a handsome guy or a very pretty girl tonight. People meet at concerts, it wasn't something unusual but rare. She has been single since she last went to prom which was ages ago and her friends have been bugging her to go out so they all can go on a couples only vacation. She is just going to take her Emotional Support cat with, he is only male and a pussy in her life who's not disappointed her yet. It would at least put an end to what her friends have to say when she doesn't find someone at the concert to go on a date with the very next day.

She woke up an hour early to make a sign for Harry. Not a big paper, just a two by two feet thick craft paper. It is big enough for him to read without blocking anyone's view. She was planning to head first so she can stand at the barricade. She doesn't care if she gets crushed. She just wants to have a nice time with her celebrity crush and her best friend.

Oh, and she did picked up a single rose to throw it towards him. Or at least attempt to.

She kept it close to her so no one can steal her idea as she saw many fans making their signs outside. It wasn't very creative, what she wrote but it was her idea. Soon she was let in and luckily her sleep deprivation was rewarded that she got to stand near the barricade.

She stood there, jammed to the pre show set lists and the opening act, waiting patiently for the person she has been dreaming to see for so long. She even made good friends with one of the security guard standing in front of her by the stage. Her heart started racing the moment the love band stepped up on the stage, it would calm down eventually but start pounding again in anticipation of he could pop up anytime on the stage.

He did eventually came up, with his brown guitar as he kick started his show with Golden. He took her breath away, quite literally as he worked and did his job.

An absolute angel, Harry appeared to her. Dressed in a all jean outfit, a vest and his usual pants with his initials on the back pockets in red sparkles. She found it adorable. Though for the longest the initials and three cherries on the back of his vest was only what she saw.

An hour left. Harry was already dreading to go down the stage. He was having a good time, prancing and jumping and running around the stage like a toddler, singing his songs with double sexual meanings to them. That was an ironic combo he liked to call when he'd see his fans talk about him using those exact same words.

He walked around. Care free. Up until someone caught his eyes. Though she blended in with crying and freaking out fans. She had a small sign with her which she held over the barricade. He found that very sweet of her as she wasn't blocking anyone's attention. But what her sign said was even sweeter and melted his head.

Sunshine, you look so very handsome tonight!!! - it said with a yellow iPhone esque smily emoji drawn on the the end. And there was a red rose in her hand.

He felt blood rushing upto his face, warming his cheeks as he read her sign, again, as he sang through Daydreaming. The nickname got him.

YN almost peed her pants seeing that he saw her sign and smiled at her. He was red like a tomato, how pale he was didn't helped to conceal it either in bright artificial lights around him. From then he kept going back to where she was stood, checking in on time to time, her sign was still on it's place. She wasn't filming but she made sure her friend was. At one point she even doubted he was even looking at her and expressed her concern tk her friend.

"He's looking at you idiot," she said, "he's not cross eyed!"

YN liked to believe that in that moment because everything felt like a waking dream to her. She was dreaming with her eyes wide open in all her consciousness, in all her senses. Though she still doubts it's one of those dreams which feels awfully real that when you wake up you feel like it literally happened to you seconds ago.

Harry couldn't help himself but look at the girl with the sign. He'd said it before that he can tell how he feels about someone with just looking in their eyes and he saw how sweet she was through her eyes. Or at least he liked to think so, because she is also so very gorgeous and easy on eyes to look at, like holding onto am Amethyst crystal or places slices of fresh cucumber on your eyes, or getting the perfect amount of sleep at night time.

Is he over exaggeration? Absolutely he doesn't not care!

Before the encore, he stopped to read a few signs. Talk to a couple of people before he went ahead and read her sign out loud because it was just that sweet of a gesture anyone has ever done for him. And he just wanted to talk to her.

"Sunshine, you look so very handsome tonight," Harry read, "why thank you, darling, so do you!" He was flattered all over again, he saw her eyes sparkle as tears brim up in her pretty eyes. She was surprised!

"What is your name?" He asked, crouching down to get closer so he can get her name right, even took off one of his ear piece.

"YN!" She said as loud as she could.

Harry heard it, "YN?" He asked to make sure and she nodded. "Yes, got it right!" He celebrated making the crowd erupt in screams. "Are you from around here YN?" She nodded in no to answer him, "where are you from?"

"India, but I'm here to study." She said, not loud enough but he could read her lips.

"You're here to study? What are you studying, YN?" Harry asked.

The more he kept saying her name the more it made her go crazy inside, and not to mention cry happy tears. Harry knew that so he didn't pointed it out.

"Business?" He said, "that's amazing, best of luck with the rest of your course. Are you having a good time tonight, YN?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed.

"Thank you so much for coming to the show tonight." He stood up because he's got a show to do, "whenever you go back home, give my love to the fans in India. Thank you for bringing such a sweet sign."

"I got you this!" She forwarded the red rose to him holding it at the very tip so it could reach him, standing on her tippy toes as she leaned forward.

"Oh that's for me?" He asked, he didn't hear what she said as he's put his earpiece back on, "thank you." He took it, smelled it.

He went on to introduce the next song, and YN stood there in shock, letting her brain process what the just happened. Just for him to hit her in the face by singing Medicine after two songs. Well, he didn't hit her but it was like a punch in her face. But he still kept going back to where she was stood, not even being subtle about it. The girls around her started to give her side eyes seeing that.

She was looking for the rose she gave him. She thought he threw it away at some other fan like he usually does, but instead she found it hung on the belt hook of his pants.

"He's got a crush on you!" Her friend yelled when he looked at her for the millionth time there.

"Stop it." She mumbled to her friend, feeling suddenly threatened when more people around her started to look at her and even film those little interactions. Being in the fandom YN has closely seen how scary his fans can get, even though he was just looking at her, it made her feel scared somewhere in her heart.

It was best to brush it off and move on and enjoy the rest of the show.

"Do you like know him?" A girl standing next to YN's best friend asked once Harry had ran off stage and everyone was leaving as well.

"Like personally? No," YN answered confusedly and earned a weirded out look from the girl as she walked away.

"Well, she was a bitch." YN's friend commented making her laugh. "See your bedsheet dress caught his eye, now when are you two getting married?" She hooked her arm around YN's as they walked out.

"Next week." YN smiled with a faux-blush and they both ended up in a fit of laugh. "Did you get all the pictures of us?"

"Oh yes!" Her friend nodded. They looked through the pictures both of them took together today, going though the memories they miss already. "Oh my god, I'm going through my post concert depression. How do you feel?"

They both were in a can back to their flat, "I feel like I'm dreaming. I might miss all of this in the morning."

"Did you gals went to Harry Styles concert today?" Their cab driver asked. It was a lady who seemed to be in her mid 40s, she was super sweet and they talked throughout the ride back home, to YN and her friend's surprised she liked his music too.

It was when YN reached that it hit to her that everything happened tonight was real!

She really talked to the guy she has been crushing over for past six-seven years. That made all the sleep disappear from her system even though she. She stayed up going through the videos her friend sent, giggling to herself like a little idiot.

She is idiot for him and she takes all the pride in that.

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:56 pm] 

(cw:reader wears lipstick)

You hated work. For all the usual reasons of waking up early, annoying bosses, and even more annoying coworkers. You worked long days and you worked hard, you go home every night exhausted, but this wasn’t why you hated work.

You hated work because you hated Doyoung. Well, hate was a strong word- you did love him but you hated your relationship at work. What had started as a rivalry had blossomed into a secret office romance. When you both entered the company you were both eager, young interns hungry for jobs in one of the most prestigious companies in the country. You hated him at first. You hated how he stepped on your toes, kissed the bosses ass, and corrected you any chance he got. But there were too many nights when you were both the last ones in the office, delirious and sleep deprived that you both got closer. There were less snarky comments and more compliments which turned into a relationship.

You were excited, a boyfriend with your same drive and motivation in the same company. You could see him at any time you wanted. What was less exciting was that Doyoung was a stickler for rules. You were now both heads of department, you were head of sales and Doyoung was head of marketing, as heads of department you “both had to be examples for those who worked under you and and office romance would not be the way to do that.” He hadn’t even cared when you mentioned how close you were with one of the girls in HR who could handle all the paperwork. He just laughed in your face and told you that no one in HR was really your friend.

And so it went. Some days you would spend the night at Doyoung’s and some night he would sleep at yours, and no one seemed to pick up on the fact that you’d both enter the office at the same time every time. It irked you.

There were days though, like today, where Doyoung would be more lenient with the rule following. Usually when you both went too many days without spending time together outside of work, like when one of you stayed at work too late to bother going to the others. Days where he would sneak you into a supply closet and press you against the shelves and kiss you until you were out of breath.

You were grasping at his shoulders, gasping as his teeth nipped the spot right behind your ear that drove you crazy. “I have a meeting at 2, I can’t be much longer,” he said breathily, hot breath hitting your ear.

You pressed hot kisses down his throat, tugging on his tie so his ear was next to your mouth, “You don’t want to be late then Mr. Kim.”

You could hear him gulp as he stepped back, running his fingers through his hair to fix it. You straightened out his shirt and tightened his tie, then used a finger to wipe away at the lipstick around his mouth.

“Ok, you got this, my love. Good luck and let me know how it goes, I have a meeting at 4 with the finance guys,” you rolled your eyes, you hated them.

“You’re smarter than them,” Doyoung told you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Wait 2 minutes before you leave and check to see if the coast is clear.”

“Yes Mr. Kim,” you smacked his butt smiling at his shocked expression, “I love you.”

He was blushing, stuttering as he looked at you with wide eyes, “I told you not to do that at work.” You shrugged nonchalantly, staring at your reflection on your phone as you fixed your smudged lipstick. He gulped again, “I love you too, text you after my meeting.”

Then he was out the door. He walked toward the conference room, smiling at his secretary as he took the stack of papers from her arms.

He reached for the handle of the conference room door before he stopped, “Um, Mr. Kim?”

He looked at her questioningly, he had one minute before he was right on time, which for him was late. “You have… red lipstick on your collar.”

He froze, it took every fiber of his being to fight the embarrassment from showing on his features. “I had spaghetti for lunch, must have eaten pretty messily. I have an extra shirt in my office, please go ahead and let them know I’ll be right back.”

He rushed down the hall toward his office, as she smiled at the sight of you, with fresh red lipstick, peeking out of the supply closet before you stepped out and strutted your way to your office at the opposite end of the hall.

Yeah right, spaghetti for lunch. Had Doyoung forgotten she ordered a salad for his lunch? She and your secretary were going to have a blast talking about this later.

-

a/n: i love them