#sorry about the time it took me to write it though

[babyleostuff]

― FIRST SNOW

there is a superstition that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you like, true love will blossom between both and it will be long-lasting.

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, cuddly and in love love gyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!mingyu x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 518

💌 natalia’s note: ik it may be a bit early for winter fics but recently we had first snow in poland and i just had this urge to write something about it [edit: and now korea also had its first snow so yippie]

“look!” 

you hummed and nodded weakly, though instead of opening your eyes you snuggled further into mingyu's warm chest, basking in the softness of his sweater and the steady beat of his heart underneath your ear. 

days off were the best. 

“baby,” your boyfriend murmured excitedly against your temple and ran his cold finger along your cheek. “it’s snowing!” 

with mingyu’s arm holding your waist in a tight grip; not that you complained, the afternoon teddy bear cuddles, especially in the colder weather were the best, it was a bit difficult for you to actually move to see the supposed snow. 

“it’s so pretty,” he said in awe, as if it was his first time seeing it. “look, look!” he said and pointed at the window that was behind you.

“gyu?” you mumbled and propped yourself on his chest as much as you could. “i’d really love to see it, but you’re holding me hostage and my neck is too sore to turn it all the way around”. 

mingyu’s eyes widened, and a small pout appeared on his face. “oh shit, right. sorry.”

you cupped his chin and placed a kiss at the tip of his nose. "'s okay," you said, before sitting all the way up and turning around towards the window.

and your boyfriend was right. even though your view of the city below was very blurry due to mingyu's apartment being on a high floor, you could still imagine how pretty the streets must look now, covered in the white fluff. 

“i can’t wait to beat your ass in a snowball fight,” you said and turned back to your boyfriend. 

you weren’t sure if it was due to the bad lightning, since mingyu insisted on turning all the lights off and lightning some candles, but you could’ve sworn he was blushing, but before you could ask him about that he took a hold of your hand and pulled you back to his chest. 

“you know what the first snow means, right?” he asked after a beat of silence. 

nodding, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face. 

“we’ve been together for five years, gyu. i don’t think that superstition counts for us anymore.” 

he hummed and nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head. “maybe,” he said. “but i like to believe that every first snowfall we witness in this life will allow us to meet our next ones,” you felt his hand brush the hair from your neck in a gentle manner, “and i hope to witness as many of them as we can.” 

not really knowing what to say, because who the hell says things like that, you lifted your head from the crook of mingyu’s neck and looked at his ruffled dark hair and shiny brown eyes that were looking at you with more love than it should be legal. 

“you’re impossible, kim mingyu,” you shook your head with a laugh. 

all you got in response was an irresistibly devastating grin, before he leaned in and sealed your lips in a kiss that could melt any amount of snow.

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[whiteferraristurns]

𝒲𝒜ℛ𝒩ℐ𝒩𝒢𝒮! Smut, pet names, She/her pronouns.

🐻ྀིྀི - i personally think this sucks this is my first time writing smut so please bear with me. I made this so long ago so i’m sorry if it’s actual ass

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬ღ

Chris had never ordered an uber so fast. You had texted him saying that you were finally ready to let him have you.. All of you. You two had been together for almost two years now and you had never gone past heated makeout sessions or some light touches. You were so nervous he wouldn’t like what he saw even though you knew that he worshiped you and he always reminded you of that. He was always so patient with you. He wanted you to be ready and he waited until you were. 

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow through your window as you waited for Chris to arrive. you glanced at the clock for the third time in five minutes, anticipation bubbling up in your chest. He had texted you a few minutes ago, saying he was almost there. You couldn’t wait. You were finally ready to give that last part to him. It was a scary thing to think about but you trusted him with your life.

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. Your heart skipped. You sighed running a hand through your hair before rushing to open the door, your face lighting up as you saw him standing there, his signature grin already on display. “Hey, pretty girl,” Chris greeted, leaning in to give you a quick, soft kiss on the cheek. He looked comfortable and laid-back, wearing his favorite hoodie and a backwards hat that kept his unruly hair in check. You loved that about him—how he always looked so effortlessly good.

“Hey handsome.” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in. "You made it, I thought you’d get lost or something." Chris chuckled, slipping his shoes off. “Oh, please. I could find my way here with my eyes closed at this point.” you smiled and closed the door behind you. You walked up to your room. You sat on the bed looking up at him with your big eyes and innocent looking features. Chris had always loved how pretty and innocent you looked. He was ecstatic that he was the one going to take your virginity. You were the purest not really understanding the jokes he’d thrown around, or how to really do anything.

Part of Chris wanted to bury himself deep inside you as soon as possible and the other part wanted to savor every moment. Your chest rose and fell with every breath. Nervousness bubbling in your chest. “Do you know what it means when we do this baby..?” Chris mumbled. You shook your head. “Words.” he rubbed a hand down your arm. His eyes took in every detail of you and imprinted it into his mind. Your skin glowing beneath the dim lights. “No..”

“It means you won't be the only virgin in our group anymore.” He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip smirking at his own joke. You rolled your eyes and pushed his hand causing him to chuckle.  “Lay back f’me..” you nodded and moved your head onto the comfort of your pillows. Chris kissed your cheek. 

He grabbed the hem of our shirt looking at you in approval. You nodded once again. He pulled your shirt up over your head. The light orange bralette that sat perfectly on your chest displayed everything. His face lit up. “When did you get this?” he asked, his fingers ran over the lace.. “Yesterday.. I thought you’d like it..” you sheepishly smiled. “No, I don't like it.” your face dropped. “I love it ma.” Your face filled with obvious relief. “I’m just messing’ with you.” 

he chuckled, running a hand down the side of your body leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Lift your hips for me love.” you did exactly as he said. He pulled your shorts down. “Matching panties too? You tease.” you smiled. He kissed your stomach. “Okay once again.. Are you one hundred percent you want to do this?” You nodded. “Yes chris. I’m one hundred and 10 percent.” He smiled up at you and ran a finger over your clothed clit. A gasp left your lips. 

He spread your thighs open more.  A soft whimper left your lips. “Chris don’t tease..” He frowned. “That’s the best though.” You shook your head lightly. He slowly pulled the panties down your legs. He almost drooled at the set of your dripping wet folds. “You are so wet fuck.” 

He cursed. You suddenly got self conscious. You went to close your thighs before Chris stopped you and pushed your thighs open again. “Baby that’s a good thing.. You're gorgeous.” you bit your lip. He leaned down and kitten licked your clit. Causing you to whine. He maintained eye contact. He flattened his tongue against your clit, alternating between long, slow licks and slowly but surely fastening his flicks. He was so fucking hungry for you, for your taste, for the innocence shattering beneath him at this very moment. “Oh fuck- chris,” You gasped, placing your hands in his hair. “I need—oh God.” you threw your head back when he shoved his tongue into your dripping hole. 

His hands dug into the fluffy flesh of your thighs.“You taste so fucking good.” He mumbled against you. The unfamiliar feeling bubbling up in your stomach. “Chris i-”  you gasped he pulled away slightly rubbing his finger over your sensitive bud. “Just let go Ma.” he breathed, leaning back down and continuing his pace. He sucked and licked and till you started to shake under him. Your thighs closed around his head, he quickly pushed them back open. You bucked your hips against his face. 

 Chris pulled away with a big smirk on his face. He licked his lips. “You did so good f’me”  you looked at him with a blushed out face he leaned up and kissed you shoving his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled away and dropped his head into your neck sucking dark marks into your skin. He trailed down your neck onto the cleavage of your tits. 

He continued to suck dark marks. He pulled the bralette off you and dropped his head instantly sucking onto your perky nipples. You moaned softly as he kneaded your left one. He switched and gave some attention to your other one. You ran a hand through his hair. He pulled off with a small “plop” which caused you to flush. He smirked up at you. “Your so pretty baby.”

He stood up pulling his shirt off and then his sweatpants. An obvious wet spot was forming from his boxers. He discarded his boxers quickly after. Your eyes darted down, you couldn't help it. You had always imagined something like this but it scared you. “baby..” He chuckled. 

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He rolled on a condom and got up back on top of you hovering over you. “I wish I could say this isn't gonna hurt but if it becomes too much you tell me okay sweetheart?” He reassured you. “Okay.. I trust you..” He nodded and rubbed his throbbing head against you. You whined. He slowly pushed into you. You grabbed his bicep. 

He wasn't even half way in and it hurt. It hurt so bad you almost called it then but Chris kissed your cheek. He completely stopped his movements and looked at you with scared eyes.  “You can continue..” you mumbled. He nodded and pushed more in. He hissed at how tight you squeezed him. Once he was fully in you you looked up at him with tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “I’m gonna move okay..?” He asked. 

You shook your head, eyes glossy. He soothed your hair out slowly moving out and then back in. The pain slowly turning into pleasure. “You can go faster.” He bit back a smirk and picked his pace up. Everytime thrusted into you the more that feeling bubbled back into your stomach.

 “Fuck mamas your taking me so good.” He grabbed your hips. “Chris!” you screamed as he pushed himself deeper into your gummy walls. He repeatedly hit your G- spot. Yours and his orgasm ripped through you both. Your moans and his groans mixed together as you both came undone on each other. 

As he pulled out you whimpered at the loss of contact. You felt so full with him in you. He disappeared into the bathroom. You sighed with a huge smile on your face. He came back out with a warmed washcloth cleaning you up. His face seemed so focused on making sure you were clean.

He brushed the sweaty pieces of hair off your face. “Arms up.” You lifted your arms up as he slipped his shirt over your body then slipped your underwear up your legs and over your hips. You two slipped under your covers as you laid on his chest listening to his soft heartbeat. “Was it just how you imagined..?” he mumbled, rubbing small patterns into your hip. “Even better. Thank you, handsome.” You mumbled back. He smiled like a kid in a candy store and pulled you closer. “I love you pretty girl.” you hummed back and drifted off into sleep in the comfort of your boyfriend's arms.

🐻ྀིྀི shatter me reference? (Iykyk..) ALSO PLEASE TELL ME HOW YOU GUYS FEEL ABOUT THIS😓

TAGS ʚ♡ɞ @sturniqloo @strnilolover @themotherofmattschildren @chrislilcumslvt @il0vecatzzz @aymeesblog @heartz4matt @mattsfavginger @ncm9696 @starfuckoff @chrissturnioloslvt @n0tnovaa @ghostlyplug

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2])

I was so looking forward to brighten this particular scene, it's the darkest yet and it's such a beautiful one it's a pity to miss even one detail

oh no lilia stop being so cute????

have you ever seen jen with a bigger smile? and she's quiet as usual, it's almost like more than the ride she's enjoying how much fun her friends are having. especially lilia, those two have been forming a bond that is equal parts bickering and a growing respect

I'm just glad alice had this moment of pure unadulterated joy before it came all crashing down

agatha is very, very quiet. despite never letting herself feel anything freely, she takes a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the beauty of it all

she looks back at rio, so sensual and confident

how can kathryn hahn convey so much with so little time? her breath catches at her sight. and then worry and fear take hold and she gives the tiniest shake of her head, as if she's forbidding herself to entertain any kind of thought about rio. she looks away. the blood moon behind her spells disaster

meanwhile billy is that kid who has the time of his life hanging out with the teachers during a field trip

I want to personally thank aubrey plaza for every acting choice she made as rio, but ESPECIALLY for this witchy laugh

(I just brightened the salem seven witch vomiting bees and it's actually pretty impressive! but I don't want to trigger any insect haters around here) (I love insects though so please talk to me about spiders if you want)

they couldn't get a good look at the cabin before rushing in and I couldn't either until now, do we know if it's something from Agatha's past? did she use to live there?

I'm salty that alice had to die in these stupid clothes

So. I think this trial is the most fucked up and humiliating yet. Billy knew nothing about jen except superficial facts, so he put her in a scenario that matched her work aesthetic, more of a personal insult than a wake up call (compare it with the broom lilia just made for her: roots and flowers, something that speaks about jen's work, beliefs and traditions.)

Alice's trial was entirely based on lorna, we know billy is a big fan so he ran with that concept creating something that really shook alice, and not in a good way. she was forced to sit in her dead mom's house and wear her clothes for god's sake. she took it as the Road wanting to teach her a lesson, when it was just a teenager with the grace and subtlety of a newborn puppy.

Now, agatha. billy doesn't know a thing about her because she's private to the point of paranoia. he has gathered that there's something in her past about a dead child and that's probably what makes her grumpy, so he... tried to make her talk to nicky. with a fuking oujia board. Despite having had his share of shock and trauma billy inevitably has a kid's point of view re: death, and even more so because he's functionally immortal. death is something that happens to other people, or far far away in the future. he thinks he's giving agatha much needed therapy, when he actually put a grown woman in child's clothes and made her relive her traumas for everyone to see.

btw I'm not in any way saying that the trials are bad writing. they are brilliant writing. they're just tragic and fucked up behind the funny exterior, just like agatha herself. sorry for the rant.

I mean I wouldn't be opposed to that. we could put billy back in a closet for a little while and get down and dirty with it. and ooh there's a little leaf on rio's shirt, I hadn't noticed it!

jen's retainer always SENDS me

agatha's face when she realizes it's her trial

agatha is irrevocably, eternally linked with death in all its forms

looks like rio is playing along and setting the scene, but she's also doing something more subtle that only agatha understands: she's provoking her, and it's becoming more personal and hurtful. she's testing and punishing more than she used to. she is growing angrier.

agatha wants to tell rio to fuck off but knows she deserves it. agatha is NOT happy to be in this trial for reasons that go beyond what everyone present (except rio) assumes, but she'll bite the inside of her cheeks until they bleed before she shows any of it

the way he says it with a straight face too (again, NO PUN INTENDED. forgive me joe, I would never)

oh great alice has only thirty minutes to live

everyone looks worried and on their guard, rio has her whole knife out, playing along. agatha is STILL trying to look cool and casual, it's painful to watch. girl is panicking, hard

meanwhile billy is always bringing a whole different energy, he's playing and having fun! think back to the second episode when they met lilia and then jen and alice for the first time. billy had no clue about the tension, the fear and hate between them and agatha. right now he's still more excited than scared. he's about to have a rude awakening.

do not taunt the spirits, AGATHA.

lmaooo. this motherfucker.

another moment when billy sounds chillingly cruel. being jigsaw without realizing it

I'm not pointing it out every time but whenever agatha does this with her arms she's really, really really nervous

what does agatha do when she's scared or overwhelmed? she puts on a show. like clockwork. and rio has already guessed what's about to happen

I really want to continue this so there will be more later today, stay tuned!

go to episode 5 part 3

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆

⊱✿⊰ summary: your bestfriend asks you to teach him how to please a woman

⊱✿⊰ warnings: fingering, kissing, touching boobies, fem reader, SMUT WRITTEN BY A MINOR (dont report jst block pls), part one out two maybe, title from a wattpad book I read ifykyk

⊱✿⊰ notes: uhm so im slightly afraid to write smut abt a character ik my sister likes especially since she is in tumblr and knows my account. but like this idea is too good to pass up im sorry gang. Sissy if you see this dont judge ☠️ in fact dont mention it to me unless you liked it

im sorry for sinning 😔

"you want me to...what?" you asked, staring incredulously at the boy in front of you. his hair was a flaming pink, hiding his face in his hoodie. but you really had to hear him again, make sure you knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

"i want you to t-teach me," he stuttered, peeking a glance at you, "how to touch a g-girl."

so you hadn't misheard him originally, he really wanted you to show him the ropes on...sex? you could feel your heart speed up, imagining having his hands on you.

fuck, if you didn't already have a crush on idia this might just take you over the edge. it was to no surprise he was a virgin, he was a major recluse. but the fact he wanted to learn how to have sex, how to take care of the woman? that was more exciting than the actual thought of fucking him. (that was a lie but nobody needs to know that.)

he must've taken your silence negatively because he immediately groaned and said, "just forget it. it was a bad idea to even ask, i'm sorry."

before you could even think about it, you said quickly, "no,no don't be sorry. i'll do it; i'll teach you."

now it was his turn to give you a shocked look, surprised you had agreed. maybe it's weird for two friends to have sex, but you weren't sure you and idia had ever had a fully normal friendship. and if this is the only way you can have him close, then so be it.

but starting off strong might scare him off from the idea of sex - and romance - for the rest of his life. so you ought to start small, very very small.

you got closer until you could feel the warmth of his skin aganist yours, feeling his breath aganist your cheek. you gently grabbed his face, holding onto him delicately. your hands cupped his cheeks, as though he was your whole world and you were trying to contain it between your two palms.

"we can start with kissing," you whispered, watching the way he trembled when your lips brushed aganist the corner of his mouth. he was nervous, so delightfully scared you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in the bottom of your tummy.

he swallowed and nodded, eyes wide and unsure. but that was alright, as long as you were the confident one for him. you brought his face closer to yours until you were kissing.

it was...awkward at first. he smashed his lips aganist yours, accidentally crashing his teeth into you. but then he tried again- softer this time. he savored your taste, letting you tilt his head this way and that to maximize the delicate sensations.

once he got more used to your kisses, you got closer. close enough you were quite literally straddling his lap. his bulge poked into your thigh, coaxing the fire in your core you hadn't even realized turned into an inferno.

you kissed him again, more insistent this time. your hands tangled in his hair, tugging on it until he let out a pretty little moan. you took the opportunity to slide your tongue into his waiting mouth, allow your muscle to explore him. to utterly and entirely devour him.

idia whined, pulling away for a moment. he blinked, cheeks flushed and his expression ful of wide eyed wonder. you felt your lips curve into a smile, the slightest flicker of pride when you realized you caused your friend to look like that.

"i want to t-touch you," he huffed, whispering your name like it was a confession of sin. perhaps it was, after all you were now a teacher of seduction. the lecturer of debauchery.

"patience, baby." you said, patting his cheek. he glared at you half heartedly, though it quickly vanished when you rolled your hips ever so teasingly. he groaned, eyebrows knitted together as though he was trying to concentrate on holding himself together.

"i've been patient." idia argued, lifting his hands from his sides to squeezing your hips. it felt nice, the large expanse of his palm pressed aganist the squish of your hips. squeezing it, kneading it...

"alright alright." you laughed, focusing on idia instead of the wetness collecting in your underwear. fuck, how was he getting to you so effortlessly?

now you had to figure out how to possibly get idia to not combust into flames at seeing you naked. (though a small, devious, part of you enjoyed the idea.)

"tell me to stop if it gets to be too much." you said softly, pulling off from his lap. you missed the contact, but it didn't matter much. you would be much closer in a matter of moments.

a strange part of you enjoyed having him stare so intently as you pulled off your clothes, letting each item crumple to the ground. his eyes were so wide, his hair that pretty pink flaming behind him.

you pulled off your underwear until you were left there entirely exposed to your best friend. his eyes were everywhere, scanning every inch of you as if you were a new puzzle for him to solve.

"you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice almost achingly raw. his hands clenched the fabric of his pants, as if he was wishing to reach out and touch you.

"alright, idia." you said, clearing your throat from the sappy and decidedly not friendly feelings forming. you crawled back into the bed, patting it so he was sitting in front of you.

despite your initial hesitance, you laid on the bed and opened your legs for him. you let him stare at your pussy, practically drooling. although you were growing antsy for his hands on, and inside, you. so you didn't last very long with only his eyes caressing your skin.

you sat up and grabbed his hand, placing it on your tit. he practically jumped in his skin, letting out a surprised sound. but it could partially be due to the fact your nipple had hardened so quickly under his touch, pebbled and ready for him to play with.

"most girls need quite a bit of foreplay before the whole sex thing," you explained, trying to remember the whole reason you were in this situation was because he wanted to learn how to pleasure a woman. "and boobs are pretty sensitive so its good to play with."

he nodded, still fondling your breasts in his hands. he glanced at you, as though needing one last ounce of permission before he touched you fully. so you gave it to him, nodding and laying down.

a squeal was ripped from your lips when he suctioned his lips to your nipple, pinching your other. how the fuck did he learn that?

idia popped his mouth off your tit and gave you an anxious look, "i'm sorry! i heard that was something people do and i wanted to try but i didn't realize you might not-"

"its okay, idia." you interrupted, not wanting him to stress over something as silly as your noises, "i made that noise because it feels good. if i don't like something i'll tell you, okay?"

he frowned a bit, blushing, but overall nodded. then as if he was on a mission, he went back to licking and sucking on your nipples. he altnerated between them, making sure they recieved equal attention.

"idia," you said, though it ended up sounding a bit more like a whine. your pussy was feeling neglected, the cool air hitting aganist the slick to make you even more sensitive.

you grabbed his hand, trailing it down your stomach and lower until it brushed aganist your wet folds. he let out a shocked gasp, reanimating his hand and collecting some of the slick.

"you're so wet," he murmured, sort of exploring your pussy like it was some sort of invention he wanted to know how was made. you bit your lip to hide your whimper, wishing he could just find your clit and help you already.

"ngh, fuck," you groaned, giving up on letting him explore. you were needy enough that your head was spinning, your bones were melting.

"can you find go a bit higher, find my-" your voice was cut off when he found your clit, his eyes on your face the entire time. they were wide and innocent, examining your reactions like he was going to write a lab report about it.

he rubbed it in rough circular motions, slightly harsh that tinged the edges of your pleasure with pain. but overall he was doing a good job, even more so when you told him to rub your bundle of nerves more gently.

"do you just watch a lot of, ah, porn?" you asked, your hips twitching whenever he pinched that sensitive bud.

he gave you a shy look and shrugged, "i g-guess. i just tried learning about this online but it's not the same."

you nodded, knowing that was true. if you could get real dick online you'd be a lot more relaxed than you usually are. those with lack of orgasms tended to be rather high strung.

"well you're doing a good job, idia." you said, giving him a smile. it was slightly breathless, broken up by the whimperish sounds you were making. idia seemed to like them though, knowing he was causing you to feel that way.

"put your fingers inside, y-yeah, fuck," you sighed, "just like that."

his fingers were longer than they were thick, filling you up in ways you didn't realize those particular appendages could. he kept them there without moving for a moment, unsure, but when you nodded he started pumping them in and out. he started with two fingers, god were you really that wet? how down bad were you for this man?

"mhm, shit." you mewled, bucking your hips up when he curled his fingers inside of you. he wa still rubbing your clit as he did this, remembering what you taught him.

your core tightened, closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. it was like being on a roller coaster, waiting for the drop. it was going higher, higher, higher still. pausing right at the edge, teetering to make you feel even more blissful when you rushed down.

"fuck, fuck, idia!" you whined all of a sudden, feeling your orgasm slam aganist you. your pussy gushed, creaming around his fingers. your cunt clenched, tightening around his fingers like a vice.

once you came down from your high, you blinked in awareness cutting through the haze of lust. you hadn't even touched idia, was he upset? technically this was about him learning how to touch a girl but it felt embarrassing you came when he didn't.

he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them with a napkin. so you sat up, ready to ask him if he wanted you to return the favor when your eyes fell on to the very apparent dark spot on the front of his jeans. oh.

he noticed you looking and said loudly, "stop looking! i know it's such a noob move of me but leave me alone! i'm still learning the control to this game."

you laughed in surprise, a bit amused that he was still acting normal. and to be honest you were flattered he came in his pants just at watching you.

"i'm not making fun of you, idia. it happens, okay?" you said, patting his hand slightly. he watched you but nodded, his face still that pretty bright red.

"alright well i got to get dressed before somebody walks in and realized what we were doing." you said grabbing your clothes and hurrying to the bathroom to hide the way your heart fluttered.

you were in big big trouble. now that you've felt his hands on you, how would you ever go back to normal? to just being friends when all you wished was to be his and for him to be yours. maybe you won't get his love, but at least you had his lust for this fleeting moment.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day! ☀️

I saw that your requests were open (Hope I got the time right...) and I wanted to request a Kimi Raikkönen one-shot during the time where he and Sebastian were still in Ferrari, for plot reasons.

So, imagine this: You're one of the beloved drivers on the grid – who is close to the Ferrari duo – known for their love of nature, especially flowers.

One day flowers kept appearing in your locker room (?) and it kept going for months. At the end of every race when you went to change there were different flowers but no info about the sender. Naturally, you suspected Sebastian because that man is mother nature himself. After learning he's not the culprit you try to find out who's been sending you flowers. (Spoiler Alert: It's the Ice Man himself.)

Sorry if the ask was long... Have a good day and remember to drink water! ☀️

I need me an ice man also I’m sorry this took forever to write literally forever like since June forever 😭😭

A Silent Bloom — Kimi Raikkonen x fem!reader

Word count — 675

Fluff

The soft fragrance of freesia lingered in your office, mingling with the faint smell of coffee and grease from the garage. You studied the bouquet in front of you—an artful arrangement of freesia, sweet peas, and delicate eucalyptus leaves. It was stunning, like all the others that had appeared after races for the past few months.

This one was no different: no note, no clue, just flowers left in places only someone close to you could access.

At first, you thought it was a mistake—some mix-up with deliveries—but as the bouquets kept appearing, you couldn’t ignore the growing mystery. Someone was sending these flowers on purpose, and they clearly knew about your deep love for nature.

The grid wasn’t short of suspects, but your first and most obvious guess had been Sebastian Vettel. Who else had such a deep appreciation for the environment?

“Seb, I know it’s you,” you said confidently one evening in the paddock.

Seb, in the middle of peeling an orange, looked up in surprise. “What’s me?”

“The flowers,” you said, crossing your arms. “I keep finding them in my office and locker after races. You’re the eco-warrior; it has to be you.”

He blinked at you, then smiled, shaking his head. “I’d love to take credit, but it’s not me,” he said, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. “Though, whoever it is has great taste. Very thoughtful.”

You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. “Seb, don’t lie.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I swear on all the bees in the world, it’s not me.”

That should have been the end of it, but of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you about your “secret admirer” for the rest of the weekend.

If it wasn’t Seb, though, who else could it be?

Your next suspect was Fernando Alonso. After all, Fernando had been known to stop and smell flowers during track walks, and he had a certain flair for surprising people.

During the Canadian Grand Prix weekend, you decided to confront him. As you approached, Fernando was casually leaning against a wall, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey, Nando,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I need to ask you something.” You hesitated, then dove in. “Are you the one leaving flowers in my office and locker?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, then his lips twitched into a smirk. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like flowers,” you said bluntly. “And you have a weird way of surprising people.”

He let out a low laugh. “I like flowers, sí, but I don’t sneak into lockers like some secret admirer. Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

That thought stayed with you, even after Fernando walked away chuckling.

The answer came at the Silverstone Grand Prix.

It had been a grueling weekend, with a tough battle for points leaving you mentally and physically drained. When you opened your locker to change, you found a new bouquet waiting for you—this time, tulips and white roses. A small piece of folded paper sat between the flowers.

Your breath caught as you picked up the note, unfolding it with shaky hands.

“Nature deserves to be appreciated. So do you. – Kimi”

Kimi? The Ice Man?

You stared at the flowers, your mind reeling. Kimi wasn’t exactly known for grand gestures—or any gestures, for that matter. Yet here he was, revealing himself as the mysterious sender who had brightened your post-race weekends for months.

You found him later that evening in the quiet of the motorhome area. “Kimi,” you said, holding the note and bouquet.

He didn’t even look surprised. “You found the note.”

“Why?” you asked, struggling to understand.

“You like flowers,” he said simply, his tone as steady and unreadable as ever. “It made sense.”

“That’s it?”

He met your eyes then, something softer in his gaze. “You look happy when you see them. That’s enough.”

For a man of so few words, he somehow managed to leave you utterly speechless.

[fawnandferns]

how about Choso during no nut november?

mdni, i’ll block you anyways. nsfw under the cut. involves: somnophilia, unprotected sex wc: ~600

boyfriend!choso who is still not used to all your human jokes and customs. so when he hears from Gojo that men aren’t supposed to… ahem, during November? Choso is with a human now, surely he can obey this one tradition…

boyfriend!choso who, in all his nervousness, misses the amusement dancing in your gaze as he tells you he’d be participating. and you don’t tell him otherwise, genuinely curious how long he would last.

boyfriend!choso whose sex drive has become insatiable since the first time you were together. he was obsessed with every single part of your body, this was practically torture.

boyfriend!choso who by the third day feels like sobbing. he missed you, missed your warmth. but he’d committed, he was going to be good for you.

boyfriend!choso who can’t even make it to a week before he breaks. he came back to your shared apartment, and was greeted with the sight of you in your shared bed, sleeping soundly and looking so pretty.

boyfriend!choso who remembered that small promise you two had made before, that your body was his. how you’d once told him that you found the idea of being woken up with sex arousing.

You woke up to blinding pleasure between your legs. They clenched around something soft, your hand instinctively reaching down and finding Choso’s dark hair.

Your pretty boyfriend moaned into you as you tugged at his sensitive scalp.

“Choso, baby, wait —“ you whimpered breathlessly, voice raspy with sleep as his tongue explored your warmth.

He lifted his head. The bottom half of his face was covered in your arousal. His pupils were blown, dark even in the shadowy bedroom.

Choso didn’t waste a second, climbing your body and meeting your lips in a clash of tongues and teeth. Between desperate kisses you could make out Choso’s soft pleas.

“Need you — please, hurts… m’sorry, tried to wait…”

You huffed in amusement, cooing at your desperate boyfriend.

“S’okay, baby… c’mon, show me how bad you want it…”

Choso kept kissing you desperately. One hand held himself above you as the other reached down to clumsily pull down his pants.

The tip of his cock was already flushed red. It didn’t surprise you; most every time Choso ate you out he’d end up humping the bed, cumming untouched.

The precum dribbling down his slender cock made it look as though he’d already came ten times over. He took a hand, jerkily stroking his cock before pressing it against you.

He pushed into you suddenly, his weeping cock hitting that sweet spot he could always find. Luckily, you were already soaking wet, so his length slid in easily.

Choso could melt as he heard your gasp of pleasure, punctuated by the harsh thrust of his hips meeting yours. Without hesitation, he began to move in and out. Wisps of his dark bangs stuck to the sheen of his forehead as he looked down at you.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” babbled apologies fell from his lips as tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, “you feel s’good — warm, can’t stop —“

You both knew Choso was going to cum quickly. His arms were on either side of you, caging you between muscled forearms. He was rutting into you desperately, tears in his eyes.

He felt your hand come up to cup his cheek, and leaned into it instinctively. Your voice was a low purr as you spoke to him.

“Cum for me, Choso.”

An involuntary whine was ripped from his throat at your sirens call. His body shuddered as you felt ropes of hot cum filling you. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he mumbled incoherent praises.

He was pussydrunk, hips shallowly thrusting into you. You realized in a haze that he was fucking into you past his orgasm, sobbing as he overstimulated himself.

This was going to be a long night.

a/n: this is far from my best writing but I’m avoiding doing homework…

[consistencynevermether]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing style and can't wait to see how your Vere series develops. Don't know if you take requests but I was wondering if you could write from Veres point of view with him realizing he's falling in love with MC and him just being like "... oh, oh no >:l"

Cue him being frustrated with himself as a result snippy at MC

this took me a WHILE to get too, school got absolutely insane sorry yall. finally locked in on a flight and took a crack at this request! thank you for asking! this is a shorter minific but i hope i was able to accurately portray veres pov.

content: vere x gn! reader, sfw, 1k words, tried to keep it as in character as possible (aka vere is a bitch)

You didn't become a problem to him immediately. 

When Vere first met you, you were nothing but a mangy worn down traveler. If he was lucky you might be a mildly interesting playtoy for a day or two. Toys aren't problems.

Then, when he learned a bit more about your origins, and more importantly your skills, you became a tool. You were desperate enough to align yourself with him, in a mad attempt for a cure on whatever infliction you had that you refused to tell him about. But having someone help him with the sinobium wasn't something he could turn his nose up at, so now, you were a tool. Tools aren't problems.

Then, to his initial amusement, he found out you were a fun tool. You engaged with him when he teased, either attempting to sass him back, or find some snippy comment to shut him up (you never succeeded on that front though). After a while you had been upgraded to an amusing tool. Amusing tools weren't problems.  

The problem came when Vere found himself sulking when you declined to join him for a drink at the Wet Wick (he had sauntered all the way to lowtown and you wouldn't even have one drink with him? Fucking rude.)

The problem came when he started to see red the first time Leander had put his hand on your back to catch you when you had nearly tripped on a loose wood plank when you were wasted at the Wick. And the relief he felt when you thanked him yet quickly and politely moved his hand away from yourself. And the smugness he felt when you obviously weren't impressed by his magic or winning smile. 

The problem came when Veres' claws nicked your shoulder while he was trying to be playful and before he could even think, the word “sorry” was on his lips. And he actually meant it. 

You became a problem when he realized he'd been drawing you from memory in his room, a page of paper completely filled up with light sketches of your side profile, your smile as you leaned your cheek against your palm, that stupid fucking smirk you gave him right before telling him the dumbest plan hed ever heard. 

You became a problem when his dreams of freedom from the sinobium started to include both of you burning that shithole to the ground, and you sticking around after he was free. Amusing tools were not meant to stick around. They weren't meant to be fantasized about. That was when Vere realized you had become a problem. 

And it was getting worse. 

Just yesterday he had felt his face heat when your bandaged fingers brushed against his own clawed hands. It was just bandages for fucks sake. He was pissed at himself for getting so damn affected by it. He wasn't some doe eyed pining maiden. People were supposed to pine over him dammit. And yet there was something about you that he couldn't shake. 

Maybe it was the way you had gifted him an amaryllis flower because you saw a sketch of one in his room.

Maybe it was the way you weren't afraid to make fun of both yourself and him. You had laughed when he had purposefully smeared neon green paint on your face and got him back by taking some orange paint and leaving handprints all over his forearm.

Maybe it was the way you never left him. Oh, the two of you fought, make no mistake. Sometimes he pushed too hard. Made an innuendo that finally pissed you off enough to flip him off and leave him standing in the streets. Sometimes you pushed too hard. Got frustrated at him keeping secrets when you did the exact same thing. Or tried to pry about his chains too soon. But no matter what arguments, you always came back. Sometimes that was in the form of you actually going out to find him and apologizing. Sometimes it was letting him find you, so he could apologize to you. He never feared that your next fight would be the last. 

No matter the reason why Vere liked you, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to deny that fact.

This is probably why he was in a snippy mood today. He had all these complicated feelings, and it was all your fault. So naturally, you would be the one to deal with them. 

And to his immense anger, you did. You didn’t stop talking to him because he decided today he was going to act like a bitch, but you also didn’t take it lying down. Business as always really. He was dealing with all this internal conflict, and you seemed completely normal. How the fuck is that fair?

He couldn’t drive you away even if he wanted too, and he couldn’t bring himself to get closer. The two of you were stuck pretending neither of you felt anything more than friendship. Vere couldn’t cross the line into being something more, but gods save anyone else who dared attempt to cross that line with you. 

One day, the two of you would figure it out. Not today though. Today Vere was going to dump soup on your head and you were going to strangle him. Today you were going to make him smile and forget for a second that he’s nothing more than a prisoner to people far weaker than him. 

Part of him was very aware he was acting like a brat. When he purposefully ignored you when you waved hi, when he antagonized you by pulling on your hair while you were trying to read, and just generally being more annoying than usual. 

Yet you took it all with a grimace and usually a retort. Through all his bullshit, you never changed. You never once thought less or more of him no matter how he acted. You simply always saw him as he was. It was a terrifying thing, to have someone see him so clearly. But also comforting in a way, that you saw the monster he was, and never faltered in caring about him.

One day, he would be able to admit what was obvious to everyone but him. One day.

[starrrcane]

The Underworld Beneth Piltover Chapter four:The Quiet Declaration

summary: sevika comes to borrow a book from you and ends up realizing maybe she wants to be more then friends and panics

warning: gay panic.

notes: this actually took forever to write I’m so sorry. But I finally got it done now that I’m on break😁😁 I love you guys stay safe during the holiday seasons xoxox

The faint knock on your apartment door startled you. You had just gotten home after a long shift, eager to sink into the couch and let the exhaustion melt away. Setting your bag down, you hesitated. You weren’t expecting anyone.

“Who is it?” you called, a trace of unease creeping into your voice.

“It’s Sevika,” came the familiar voice on the other side.

Your shoulders relaxed immediately, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Sevika. Of course. She hadn’t been at work today, and you’d caught yourself missing her presence—a fact you weren’t quite ready to admit even to yourself.

You opened the door, finding her standing there. Her usual stoic expression was replaced with something lighter, though she was clearly trying to play it cool.

“Hey,” she said, hands tucked into her coat pockets. “You promised.”

You blinked, confused for a moment, until she clarified, her tone teasing. “You said if I stayed off my leg, you’d give me a book to borrow.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at her. “Wait a minute. That’s not what I promised. I said I’d *make* you read, remember? You teased me about books being for nerds.”

She grinned, unbothered. “I don’t recall saying anything like that.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let her in. “Fine, come on.”

As you led her into the living room, her gaze fell on the three towering stacks of books sitting on your side table. Her eyebrows shot up.

“This is how you keep them stored?” she asked, pointing at the precarious piles.

You crossed your arms, mock offended. “Yes, what about it?”

“No bookshelf?” she teased, smirking.

Your eyes flicked to the pile of unassembled wood and nails in the corner of the room, and you sighed. “I haven’t exactly had the time to build it yet.”

Her grin widened, a quiet chuckle escaping her. “You? Too busy to build something? Hard to believe.”

You shot her a playful glare, giving her shoulder a light smack. “Don’t start. Now, what are you looking for?”

She paused, her smirk softening as her expression grew thoughtful. “Something to help me escape this madness” she murmured.

You nodded, turning to the stacks. After a moment of searching, you pulled out a worn but beloved fantasy novel. “Here,” you said, handing it to her. “This should do the trick.”

She took it, eyeing the cover with a skeptical sigh. “Fantasy, huh?”

“Anything to get your mind off the real world,” you replied.

Her lips quirked up in a half-smile, but you noticed the way her shoulders slumped. She flipped through the first few pages, her eyes skimming the words, and you realized she wasn’t eager to leave.

“Tea?” you offered suddenly, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Sure, whatever,” she said, but her tone was lighter, and you caught the briefest flicker of excitement in her eyes.

You smiled to yourself as you poured water into the kettle, setting it to boil. When the tea was ready, you brought two mugs into the living room, handing one to Sevika.

“This is cheesy,” she remarked, still flipping through the book as she took the mug.

You shrugged, sitting down beside her. “It’s supposed to be. Just give it a chance.”

She hummed in response, sipping the tea as she read.

“What’s your favorite book?” she asked after a while, not looking up.

You hesitated, glancing at the stacks. “I can’t choose. I love all of them the same,” you said with a small shrug.

She hummed again, quieter this time, almost nonverbal. You noticed how her usual sharp edges softened in these moments—how comfortable she seemed.

“How’s your leg healing?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

“All better now,” she said, her tone casual, though her eyes flicked to you with a faint glint of something warmer. “Thanks to you.”

You ducked your head, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

The quiet lingered, heavy with something unspoken. Sevika’s smile faded suddenly, her expression closing off.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” she muttered, standing abruptly. “I should get going.”

“But—” You stared, bewildered, as she left her tea untouched on the table and headed for the door.

“Thanks for the book,” she said over her shoulder, and before you could respond, the door clicked shut behind her.

For a moment, you just sat there, confused and a little hurt. The warmth she’d brought into the room seemed to vanish with her, leaving you alone again.

You're right! Let me add Sevika’s reflection after she leaves your apartment to round out the chapter:

---

As the door clicked shut behind her, Sevika paused in the dimly lit hallway, her back against the cold wall. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts swirling in a way she couldn’t control.

What the hell was she doing?

She’d gone to your place intending to keep things simple—a quick stop to grab a book, tease you a little, and leave. But then you’d smiled at her, the kind of smile that made her knees feel weak. The kind of smile that made her heart ache in ways she didn’t want to name.

She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. You were just... you. Sweet, patient, and stubborn as hell when it came to her well-being. But you also had a way of looking at her—like she wasn’t just Silco’s enforcer, the muscle of the Undercity. Like you saw her as something more.

That terrified her.

“Pull it together,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

But the truth was, every time you smiled or laughed, she felt her carefully built walls start to crack. She didn’t know what to do with that—didn’t know how to handle the warmth you brought into her life.

And then there was the way you’d looked when she’d left. Disappointed. Hurt. It had gnawed at her the entire night as she lied in bed.

She raked a hand through her hair, glancing down at the book in her hand. She didn’t care about the damn book, not really. She cared about you.

Sevika’s jaw tightened. She had to make it up to you. She couldn’t keep running every time things got too close, couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t care.

The next day, she found herself at your apartment again—not to see you, but to do something she hoped would show you how much she appreciated you, even if she couldn’t say it out loud.

Building the bookshelf wasn’t about the books. It was about you. The way your face lit up when you talked about your favorite stories, the way you defended your messy stacks like they were treasures.

When she finished, she stepped back to admire her work. The bookshelf wasn’t perfect—she wasn’t a carpenter—but it was sturdy and solid, and it felt like a piece of her she was leaving behind.

As she closed your door softly behind her, Sevika let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She still didn’t understand everything she felt when it came to you. But for the first time, she didn’t feel the urge to run. Instead, she hoped you’d see the bookshelf and understand what she couldn’t say.

---

When you got home that evening, though, the sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

The pile of wood and nails in the corner of your living room was gone. In its place stood a perfectly built bookshelf, solid and sturdy. The books that had once been stacked precariously on your table were neatly arranged beside it, left for you to decide how to organize them.

You stared at it, your mouth falling open in disbelief. Running your fingers along the polished edges, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sevika…” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head in quiet amazement.

Somehow, this simple act of kindness felt like the loudest declaration she could have made.

[twstfanblog]

*~Thanks Give Me~* Pt 3

A/N: Third part ready and served! Yes I passed out writing this at least twice. So you can probably see it but at this point it's just gonna have to be. I have plans to do what I'm gonna call 'Winter Cleaning' since I wont be doing a Christmas fic this year. So lots of time to look back at all of my posted fics to fix typos and the such XD Word Count: 3.3K Pairings: Ruggie/Leona, Cater/Idia, Vil/Rook, Trey/Jade, Riddle/Floyd, Epel/Ace/Deuce/Jack Warnings: Swearing, Trans-headcanons, Drug mentions, Lying about pregnancy

Prev

The dinner was surprisingly pleasant. It was a possibility, Trein knew that. His students, if push came to shove, could act civilly to each other for extended periods of time. It still made his heart soften seeing them all around the table engaged in conversations. If he craned his head a little to the left he could see Lucius seated at the ‘Kids Table’. Demeaning? Possibly. But he knew his familiar wouldn't complain if he was receiving human food, not to mention the small tumbler of cream he had in place of the fruit punch the other children and Grim were given.

Looking to his right, Trein watched Cater take photo after photo of his plate. It was filled to the brim, a little tasteful piece from the most colorful dishes. But seeing him only pick at the food, Trein realized that was only his ‘Photo Plate’. The redhead was routinely picking off of Idia’s plate who was to Caters right. 

Thinking over the conversation he had with Yuu earlier that week, Trein placed his utensils down. Dabbing at his mouth to make sure no food was on his face, he cleared his throat, “Cater?”

The redhead in question snapped his head up, the flash of his camera flickering as it took a photo, “Yes? Sorry, is the flash bothering you, sir? I'm trying to see what lighting is better.”

"Nothing is the matter Cater, I wish to speak to you on other matters.”

“Oh?” Cater leaned his arm on the table, “Spill the tea.”

Trein linked his hands together, leveling Cater with a steady gaze, “You were given the a title as a task I believe?”

“Lol, yeah. Yuu says I'm ‘Gay Cousin’. Wont really tell me what I'm supposed to be doing though.”

“Oh, well this works out perfectly. Yuu alerted me as ‘Grandpa’, it was my task to ask you certain questions.”

“Oh, thank the Seven. Actual direction…”

Trein pulled his phone from his inner robe pocket along with his reading glasses. Putting his glasses on, he opened the notes app, “Now, I've heard you children say a few terms that I'm not aware of…would you tell me what a…’Gyatt’ is?”

Cater turned to Idia, grabbing his attention from his tablet, “Switch seats with me.”

“There's two T's.”

“Switch with me right the fuck now.”

Leona ate as much from his plate in big bites as possible. Ruggie was no better, the hyena basically shoveling food down his throat without even closing his mouth. Looking to his other side, he had to hold back the urge to smirk.

Malleus Draconia, the bane of his existence and the most aggravating thorn to ever find its way to his side.

When he had visited Ramshackle to offer more monetary support, Yuu had given him a second task. They had revealed to him that they told Malleus Thanksgiving was a holiday of compromise and togetherness, meaning you weren't allowed to fight on the day. They then told him to do everything in his power to piss Malleus off.

Taking a sip of his beer, Leona glanced at Malleus from the corner of his eyes, “So, gargoyles…”

It almost made him feel bad seeing how quickly Malleus perked up, green eyes wide and sparkling.

“Yes? what did you wish to discuss about them?”

“What's your favored style? I can admit to having a soft spot for animal pieces, but the Savanna uses more geometric and plant designs.”

Malleus could have vibrated out of his seat and into the sun from how excited he became. He quickly launched into a lecture, noting the various styles and the positives of each one. Leona spoke up at points, giving actual opinions and thoughtful insights on the topic.

“I will say Kingscholar, I didn't expect you to have such knowledge on gargoyles! You must come to my club at a later date to speak on them farther.”

“I just might. Talking about grotesques is enjoyable-”

“Gargoyles.”

Leona raised an eyebrow, humming as he took another sip of his beer.

Malleus was still smiling, though his pupils had dilated into slits, “Gargoyles. We are speaking on gargoyles.’

Shrugging, Leona could barely hide his smirk from behind his glass, “Same thing.”

Leona watched in hidden elation as Malleus’s face slowly dropped the longer he talked. It was worth the days of learning gargoyle architecture just to give wrong definitions and terms, each new avenue of knowledge torturing Malleus in his urge to argue and correct him.

Soon Malleus was leaned on the table, head resting on his hands to give himself support while Leona kept talking.

Leona smiled, leaning closer to Malleus, “And you know what really gargles my goyles?”

Malleus gags hard and quick, managing to cover his mouth and steel himself.

“...Did you almost throw up?”

“I did. A little…”

The laugh Leona let out could only make Malleus more frustrated. 

Kalim had completely forgotten about the conversation topic Yuu recommended he try. He remembered as the plate of grilled and buttered corn made its second pass in front of him. Grabbing a cob, he looked across the table, “Hey, Azul. What's your opinion on The stalk market right now?”

Azul paused, closing the note app on his phone to give Kalim his full attention, “Kalim, have you been taking note of the stock market?”

“Yeah. I've only started checking on it the past week or so, but man! It's pretty wild, huh?”

Smiling, Azul moved to place another scoop of pasta salad onto his plate along with a third slice of turkey, “True. The stock market can be a bit of a wild west to the untrained. Do you have any predictions for the new year? My stepfather and I love to place bets on which company will have the worst spring quarter.”

"Hmmm. I don't know. I can't remember the companies by name still. But man, I read about one that lost half of their product due to outside issues. I'm just worried that prices will increase since they had such a bad production period. Other companies deal in their certain type of stalk, but this company was the biggest provider…”

“...” Azul placed his utensils down, giving Kalim his complete attention, “Kalim what sources are you getting this information from?” Azul doesn’t watch the stock market obsessively but he’d at least notice something so severe.

“Oh, I just Miraed ‘Stalk Market’ and started reading. You should really look up some stuff…”

“Jamil-”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his plate, grabbing a second helping of food, “Don’t involve me with this.”

Sighing, Azul turns back to Kalim, “There is no way, such a large shift happened without me noticing. Plus, if only one company is affected in production, then it wouldn’t raise prices if there are other competitors. What is this stock in?”

“Stalks.”

“Yes…Which stock? Do you remember if this company was in electronics? Services? What ddi this company do?”

“Stalks! Azul, do you know what the stalk market is?”

“Kalim, let’s not start that conversation. Tell me, in plain words, what kind of stock you were researching.”

“Corn stalks.”

“...”

Jamil had turned to them, looking at Kalim across the table, “Are you fucking serious?”

Cater had his head in his hands, Trein still beside him listing off old and newer slang that he wanted definitions of. The professor growing more and more disapproving with every new term he learned. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this.

“And…’boofing’, do you know what boofing is?”

WHO WAS BOOFING- “Pregnant. I’m pregnant.” Cater nodded to himself, using the trap card Yuu had given him to shift any conversation in his favor.

Trein raised a brow, “Is that what boofing is?”

Idia had locked in the second Cater said pregnant, looking at him in terrified confusion, “How are you pregnant?”

“...” Cater played with his hair, looking away from his boyfriend, “It’s not yours.”

Ortho quickly leaned over to narrow his eyes at Cater, Idia still stunned in silence, “Who’s the father?”

“...” Cater shifted his eyes across the table, silently watching as Trey contently ate his food.

Jade took notice, his own amused smile slowly falling from his face as he realized Cater was focused on Trey.

Feeling more and more eyes on him, Trey looked up mid-bite, “...What?”

Cater sighed, fully committing to his bit, “Trey, I’m pregnant.”

“...” Trey made the mistake of looking to his side, catching the unblinking stare of Jade’s barely contained emotions before looking back at Cater, “Why are you telling me?”

“It’s yours.”

Trey quickly reached his hand out, pinning Jade’s wrist to the table just as the mer tightened his grip on his knife, “Cater, we have…never slept together.”

Rook spoke up from Trein’s left, pouting at Cater, “Monsieur Magicam, how are you not sure it’s mine?”

Vil lost every ounce of amusement, glaring at Rook as though he was poisoning him with his eyes alone, “Why would it be yours?”

“Oh, mon amor. Love is a flighty and fickle predator, it hunts and snatches its prey with little to no warning.” Turning back to Cater, he placed a hand over his heart, “Are you sure it’s not mine?”

Cater could barely keep his face start, nodding as he watched Trey start struggling to hold Jade down from stabbing either of them, “I’m pretty sure. I’ve been craving violets and worrying about the teeth of children-”

Jade hissed under his breath, glaring at Trey and trying to grab his knife with his other hand, “How dare you impregnate someone else!?” 

“I didn’t!?”

Vil said nothing, glaring at Rook as the wine in his hand slowly started to bubble and turn black. His eye twitched as his boyfriend continued to lament and plea for Cater to tell him he was the father of his child.

Idia, breaking out of his spiral of despair and confusion, mumbling out, “Wait, you don’t even like vaginal sex. How’d you get pregnant?”

“...”

Trein spoke up, turning to Rook beside him, “Do you know what boofing is?”

Four glasses deep in the wine he brought, Crewel swirled his glass and picked at the ham on his plate. Eyes roaming the table for someone to target.

“Oi, Beakfish, hand me the red sludge.”

Riddle sighed, glaring at Floyd, “Don’t be rude to our professor and it’s cranberry sauce. Red sludge is very unappealing…Plus, it’s more of a burgundy color.”

“Eh? It’s a sludge though? It’s got chunks and everything.”

Silver raised an eyebrow, pouring more gravy onto his food, “It looks more like a jelly to me.”

While the three students were debating on what to call the condiment, Crewel grabbed the small platter but kept it close to himself, “I’ll pass it if you can tell me the boiling point of a frost potion, Floyd.”

“That’s a trick question. Frost potions don’t boil but they heat to temp.”

“Hmmm. Odd you know that but left it blank on your last test. Along with a number of other questions.”

Floyd groaned, rolling his eyes and moving to reach across the table and grab the platter in Crewel’s hand, “I didn’t wanna! Tests are so annoying, be happy I even wrote on it this time…”

Riddle glared at his boyfriend, “Honestly Floyd. You have to learn to put in more effort in your schoolwork. Your grades would be better for it.”

Crewel turned his eyes to Riddle, raising an eyebrow, “Like how you should be doing more cardio and strength training outside of Physical Education?”

“...”

“You can’t do five pull-ups, Riddle.”

Silver spoke around the spoonfuls of mashed potato in his mouth, “Riddle is able to lift a saddle during club.”

“By himself?”

“...” Silver looked back to his plate, poking at his side of vegetables, “The horses are much taller than him…”

Lilia laughed, his glass full of sangria having been drained for a third time already, “Oh come now Crewel! Children tend to try to avoid difficult things like schoolwork or exercise. We’re having a lovely meal, let’s drop the topic.”

“You have two essays you’ve yet to turn in.”

“...Um-”

“You’re aware that your Mistcord* status is public and shows you play Mortus Behind* for hours on end every night?”

“Well-”

Yuu spoke up, looking over as Deuce went back for a third helping of mac and cheese, “Slow down there, Deuce. Leave some for the rest of us.”

The spade soldier blushed, stopping from getting a second scoop before passing the dish over to Ace, “Sorry. It’s just really good, how many cheeses did you use in this?”

“Four. I call it Mac n Coma for a reason.”

“...You call it what?”

Epel hummed, biting into a deviled egg topped with a piece of ham, “Yur deviled eggs are really good, Deuce! Ah’ve never had them with chili powder before.”

Deuce smiled, “Thanks! My mom always made them with chili powder instead of cayenne. Cater confused me so much when I was making them…”

Taking another two eggs, Epel started to load his plate up again, making sure to refill his glass of apple juice, “This was a great idea. Ah’ve been meaning to get y'all together. Plus, Ah get ta really chow down without Vil bothering me about manners.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, watching Epel pile his plate high, “Eating is important, but you’re kind of…eating a lot. You know we can take leftovers back with us right?”

Ace looked from the side of his eyes, watching Ruggie eat without so much as stopping to breathe, “I mean, if there’s anything left…”

Epel had patted a hand on his stomach, “Well, you know. Eatin’ for two and all.”

Jack hacked and choked, an aborted spit take going down his windpipe. Sebek had dropped his fork onto his plate, looking at Epel with wide and terrified eyes, while Deuce seemed to buffer.

Ace sputtered, his half-chewed food falling out of his mouth, “You’re what!?”

“Oh, it ain’ yours.”

“Thank the Seven…”

Deuce held his head in his hands, staring at the table, “My mom is gonna kill me…”

“It ain’ yurs neither, Deuce. It’s Sebek or Jack’s but Ah’m not sure which…”

Jack still looked horrified, hitting his chest to clear his airway, “E-either way. I’ll step up to be there for you and the baby…”

“...” Sebek glares at Jack, “Why do you assume I wouldn’t be stepping up as the child’s father?”

“Why do you assume you’re the father?”

Slowly, Jack and Sebek’s tension escalated into an argument, the two larger freshmen moving to stand from their chairs or just leap across the table at each other. Both loudly proclaiming they’d be a proper provider for Epel and the child, unknowingly insinuating the other would not be.

While the two of them bickered back and forth, Yuu slipped Epel a twenty note bill under the table.

Sam finished off his second plate, looking around the the table. His task wasn't truly something he had to do, it was more of a get out of jail card for when the table was too rowdy for him. With two separate conversations at each end of the table dealing with possible pregnancies, a debate on if the production of corn counted as the stalk/stock market, and Draconia slowly coming to terms with the idea of manslaughter Sam decided he needed a little air.

He elbowed Crewel, stopping the wine drunk man from verbally dragging his students through the trenches, “I'm gonna go for a walk, you wanna come with?”

“To what? Have sex?”

“...” Sam shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, I was going to just…walk but we'll see how we feel afterwards?”

“...Yeah, ok.”

Floyd perks up, “Ah! Wait, shrimpy told me what your job was. I wanna come too!”

Lilia smiled, finally free from Crewel's judgemental glare, “Oh, a walk? May we join you? I even have my own…walk enhancers.”

Sam shrugged again, already standing from his seat, “Might as well.”

Their small group was barely noticed leaving, only Riddle and Silver taking account. Riddle raised an eyebrow, watching them walk out of the dining room without a goodbye.

“Where do you suppose they're going?”

Silver took the time to grab the cranberry sauce from Crewel's table space, “A walk. They should be back in about ten or fifteen minutes…”

“Why in the Seven would they go for a mid-meal walk? Once they were done eating I could understand, but Floyd's barely touched his second plate…”

“...” Silver looked over to Riddle, brows creased in confusion, “Riddle, They're going to do drugs. That's what taking a ‘walk’ means.”

The gasp Riddle gave was small but clearly horrified.

Dinner had ended, while a handful returned to their dorms (Idia of course, leaving the second Cater asked if he was ready to go, and Vil who finished his plate and dragged Rook out with him) most had decided to stick around Ramshackle.

The only reason he had stayed was the fact he did not have his phone for some reason. He tried to retrace his steps, checking around the now empty dinner table he found nothing but the nearly empty serving platters all covered again. The stray fairy watching him from little spaces, waiting for him to leave so they could pick at the food left improperly covered.

He checked the kitchen, finding only Crewel and Trein standing at the Island both nursing glasses of wine. Pouting, seated at the smaller dining table across from Vargas was Crowley. The headmaster begrudgingly eating from a plate, no doubt cursing Yuu under his breath for not actually inviting him to their massive friends and family dinner.

“Apologies for interrupting, professors. But have any of you seen my phone? White case with a rose popstand on the back?”

While most of the teachers shook their heads, Varga hummed before snapping his fingers, “The lounge! I think one of the kids had it.”

“Oh no…”

Walking into the lounge, Riddle had to hold in a snicker. Yuu had told him their family recipe for macaroni and cheese was known as ‘Mac n Coma’ and he could see why. Leona was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly face down in the cushions. Wedged between the back of the couch and Leona’s side was Ruggie. The hyena silent but sleeping just as hard with an arm draped over the back of Leona’s head.

The children were asleep too, each of them piled on top of Leona and Ruggie in a mass of limbs. Jack’s twin siblings squishing Cheka between them, the grey tipped twin sleepily gnawing on the lion cub’s tail. Deuce was also in the lounge, unfortunately unable to reach a couch or chair as he slept on the floor using a throw pillow as a blanket.

Looking around, he couldn’t see his phone anywhere. Groaning under his breath, he walked out to the back and to the patio. He quickly walked by Trey and Jade, the third-year quietly trying to calm his boyfriend who kept glaring at him. Walking around the garden, he finally saw his familiar white case.

The downside was that it was in Yuu’s hands, Floyd squished tight beside her in the pillow filled hammock swing. The two were whispering to themselves, giggling and pointing at the screen. 

He stood in front of them, hands on his hips and already tapping his foot in annoyance, “I would like my phone back, if you two delinquients wouldn’t mind.”

Floyd looked up, his eyes still rimmed in red from his ‘walk’ earlier, “In a minute, Goldfishie~. We gotta do something real fast.”

“What could you two possibly need my phone for?”

Yuu giggled, tapping on the phone and moving to place it against their ear, “We’re callin' your mom and seeing who can make her say a slur fastest.” “GIVE ME MY PHONE THIS INSTANT!”

*Twist version of Discord

*Twist version of Left 4 Dead

[llxferim]

Choose Part 2

a/n: FINALLY a part 2 for yall anddd sorry I wasn't in the mood for smuttt. Also, Should I write a Natasha endgame version?

here's part 1 if you haven't read it!

Pairings: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: After that night, all you could think about was Wanda and Natasha. You took a few days off and holed up in your room to think but then, you got a call.

Warnings: Bad language, fem!reader, no y/n used, fluff, drunk reader, alcohol (tell me if i missed anything)

Word count: 2k

After last night, you stayed holed up in your room, the weight of everything pressing heavily on your chest. You had taken a few days off, hoping the time would help you sort through your tangled thoughts. Going on a date with both Wanda and Natasha was supposed to help you choose between them, Instead, it had only deepened the confusion, leaving you trapped,

You didn’t want to hurt either of them—But avoiding the situation wasn’t helping. Silence would only make things worse, and you knew it.

Lying on your bed, the soft hum of a TV show filled the background, though you weren’t paying attention. Your phone buzzed, the vibrations traveling through the mattress before finally reaching you. You picked it up, heart pounding, hoping—no, expecting—it to be Wanda or Natasha. But the screen read, Kate.

Disappointment flickered for a moment, but you answered anyway.

“We’re going out,” Kate declared, her voice brisk and unapologetic. “Get dressed. I can’t stand you moping around like this anymore.”

You blinked, startled by her abruptness. Before you could get a word in, she added, “You have an hour. Bye,” and hung up without waiting for a response.

For a moment, you just stared at your phone, the call already disconnected. Kate’s words rang in your ears, and you couldn’t ignore the sting of truth in them. Had this whole Wanda-Natasha situation really gotten to you that much?

You sighed, letting the phone drop onto the bed beside you. Maybe Kate was right. Maybe you did need to get out, even if just to clear your head.

***

You were in a bar, one of the more popular spots in town, but on a Wednesday night, it was surprisingly quiet. Most of the regulars seemed to be staying in, leaving you to wallow in your own chaos. You were on your fourth shot of whiskey, the fiery liquid blurring the edges of your thoughts. You were pretty sure the entire bar now knew about your messy situation, thanks to your drunken rambling.

Kate wasn’t much help—she’d long since ditched you to dance with some girl she’d just met. You were left at the counter, propping your head on your hand as you unloaded your woes on the bartender—who seemed so uninterested in anything you had to say, but you were too drunk to care.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you slurred, the whiskey loosening your tongue, “Natasha, she’s… she’s amazing. So strong, so beautiful—” You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “But Wanda, god…” You trailed off, covering your face entirely with your palms and sighing deeply. “Ugh. Never mind.”

A familiar voice cut through the fog of your thoughts. "No, please, continue," Wanda’s voice was soft, but it had that unmistakable edge that made your pulse spike.

Your heart stuttered as you turned to face her, blinking in disbelief. Wanda. Sitting right next to you, a smirk playing on her lips.

"What—" hic "What are you doing here?" You stammered, your breath catching in your chest.

Her eyes softened, though there was still a playfulness in her gaze. "How much have you had to drink, darling?" she asked, her voice low and teasing as she casually slid your glass from your hand and set it aside, taking money out of her pocket.

“You don’t have to- i have money” You protest, not wanting her to waste hers, but of-course she refuses.

She raised an eyebrow, studying you for a moment. "You good to stand up?"

You blinked, disoriented. "Yeah, sure. Where are we going?"

You tried to stand, but the room swayed beneath you. Just as your knees threatened to buckle, Wanda’s arms slid around your waist, steadying you, her touch firm and warm.

You look up at her as a red blush creeps onto your face. you clear your throat, “thank you”

“You’re really cute when you’re shy, did you know that?” She helps you to your feet, before using her arms around your waist to guide you outside.

“wait- Kate-“ You start to turn around right at the door but Wanda stops you, “i already Called Yelena, she’ll be here any minute, it’s okay” she reassures you.

“oh- okay” You mumble as you follow her lead, outside the door. The cold reaches you immediately, your first instinct being to lean into her warmth, resting your head on her shoulder.

You finally reach Wanda’s car, your head still spinning, but a but better than before.

She helped you into the passenger seat, her hands brushing yours as she fastened your seatbelt. For a moment, the world felt like it was slowing down—the soft scent of her perfume, the way she seemed to be in perfect control, her gaze flicking over you with something unreadable. The closeness of her body, the soft brush of her fingers against your skin...

As she straightened, your eyes locked for just a second, and in that moment, the rest of the world fell away. You couldn't help it. You leaned in, your lips almost brushing hers.

But then she pulled away, her breath warm against your cheek. You blinked, frustrated, and mumbled something incoherent.

"You’re not sober, love," Wanda’s voice was gentle.

She sits down next to you. “C’mon, drink up” she says, giving you a cold bottle of water, which you down in seconds. You lean back into the seat as she starts driving.

You leaned your head back against the seat, trying to will the drunken fog away, but your thoughts kept circling back to her—her touch, the look in her eyes, the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the room. you let your eyes rest for a second, savoring the feeling of being with her.

Next thing you knew, Wanda was helping you out of the car, “Do you feel better, Love?” She asks softly. “Yeah, thank you” You mumble out, embarrassed, The embarrassment of your earlier behavior clawed at you. “I’m sorry i ruined your night,” You apologized, opening the door, and called the Elevator. “What do you mean?” She asks with a confused tone, leaning against the elevator Frame.

“You probably went there to unwind or- have fun-” you start rumbling, the drunken feeling still slightly there. before you could continue you were interrupted with a chuckle coming from Wanda, “What- What’s so funny!” You ask with a pout, frustrated. “You don’t remember texting me?” She asks as your face warms up, “i- what?” you felt dumbfounded, did you text her something weird? Something embarrassi— “You texted me to come and get you because you missed me” She snaps you out of your thoughts with a soft giggle, before heading into the Elevator, dragging you with her, her hand still protectively around your waist, just in case.

“Fuck” You sigh, covering your face with your hands, leaning back on the elevator door. you feel her footsteps getting closer to you, her rough hands grabbing on to yours, pulling them away, revealing your flushed face.

“I’m sorry” You apologize, finally looking her in the eyes. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Darling.”

After a moment of silence, the elevator dinged, announcing your arrival at your floor. Wanda's hand slid down to intertwine with yours, her touch both grounding and electrifying. "Come on," she murmured, leading you toward your apartment.

You followed her, the world around you fading into the background. All that mattered was the warmth of her hand in yours and the way her presence seemed to anchor you in ways you didn’t fully understand yet.

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, swaying slightly. Wanda’s hands were immediately on your shoulders, steadying you again. "Alright, sit," she instructed, guiding you to the couch. Her tone left no room for argument, but there was a tenderness in her voice that made you comply without hesitation.

She comes back with a cup of water and aspirin “Take these” she said softly, crouching in front of you and placing the items on the coffee table. Her green eyes met yours. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“Of course i do” she says.

You hadn't even realized how much you craved this—her attention, her care, the way she made everything feel right. You could feel the tension in your chest loosening with each breath.

Wanda sat beside you, her eyes focused on you as you slowly took the water and aspirin she had handed you. The cool liquid slid down your throat, soothing the remnants of the whiskey’s burn. You felt her gaze on you, not judgmental, but understanding. She wasn't in a rush. She wasn't going anywhere.

You shifted on the couch, your hands feeling oddly restless, unsure whether you wanted to speak or just keep your thoughts to yourself. But the silence hung between you like an unspoken question, a question you knew you couldn't avoid forever.

“Wanda...” You started, your voice quieter than you intended. “I’ve been… I’ve been thinking a lot. About all of this.

Her eyes softened, and she shifted closer, the warmth of her body radiating against yours. She didn’t interrupt you, didn’t push you to speak faster.

“I—” You stopped, unsure how to voice the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. You knew what you were about to say, what you needed to say, but the words didn’t come easily. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “You make me feel... alive, Wanda. In a way that I never expected. And I—I don’t know how to say it, but…”

You trailed off, letting the silence hang between you as you gathered your courage. The weight of the decision was pressing down on you, and at that moment, it felt like your heart was demanding you make a choice.

Her hand found yours again, her thumb gently brushing across your knuckles, grounding you. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, love,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “But I’m here, no matter what.”

The words felt like a lifeline, and it was like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. You didn’t need to explain everything, to find the perfect words. What mattered now was the quiet truth that had been sitting in your heart all along.

Wanda was the one you wanted. She was the one who made you feel safe, and seen, in ways that Natasha couldn’t. It wasn’t that Natasha wasn’t incredible—she was—but it was Wanda’s presence that soothed you, that made everything else feel right.

You squeezed her hand, your heart racing now, the decision clearer than it had been before. “I think... I think I’ve known for a while now,” you said softly, looking directly into her eyes. “I just needed to admit it.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, studying you with those knowing green eyes. You could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but she said nothing, waiting.

“I choose you, Wanda. I’ve been scared to admit it,” you whispered, your voice trembling a little. “But I choose you.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just watched you with an intensity that felt like she could see every thought and feeling you were hiding. Then, her lips parted in a soft smile, the kind of smile that felt like home.

“I’m glad,” she said quietly, her voice full of warmth. And just like that, the tension that had been gnawing at you for days melted away. Wanda leaned in then, her forehead gently resting against yours, her breath warm and comforting. “You don’t need to be afraid with me,” she murmured.

You closed your eyes for a moment, basking in the simplicity of the moment—the clarity, the relief, the way it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips before her hands were cupping your face, drawing you closer, her lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t thank me,” she whispered back. “Just... trust me, love.”

And in that moment, you realized you didn’t need to say anything else. You trusted her. You trusted her with everything.

And that was enough.

[nickscodthoughtsblog]

Shot in the Dark (König/Nikto)

hey gang. I had a thought infest my brain and now im sharing it with you guys. something a little different to x Reader fics i've been writing, but hear me out on this one. König/Nikto. first time actually writing for Nikto but i took the time to understand his character. and yes i will write more of this so i hope you like it :)

There was a pretty wide assortment of people König worked with in KorTac. Hutch, Fender, Roze… On the field, he saw how each one of them fit their roles and excelled in them. Off the field, he saw them as friends. Some took longer to bond with, like getting Calisto to warm up to him, while others just gravitated towards him. He’ll always remember how quickly he bonded with Horangi. And, even if some of the others found it strange, he couldn’t help his habit of wanting to know the people he was trusting his six with better than just their skill sets.

There was, however, one person he never got the chance to exchange even one word with, and didn’t even know the name of. Not someone new, though. He would notice from time to time, how the man sat alone, away from everyone, his mask always worn and his eyes distant. The only person he’s seen talk to him was Krueger, and it never seemed like it was a long chat. The last time he asked his fellow Austrian about him, all he got was “Don’t worry about him” and a dismissive wave. Not his name, not his relation to Krueger, not even a hint of his nature. 

And he tried to leave it alone. On his pride, he tried. With Krueger out on deployment, he only noticed more and more how the man sat alone, in the same places at the same time, like he was waiting for the one person he had a chance to talk to. Miserable, König thought, to wait so long alone. He couldn’t help his feet carrying him over to the man in the mess hall, away from the group he normally ate with. 

Maybe his sister was right, when she kept saying he was too empathetic for his own good. 

As he came to stand at the table, the man looked up to him. “Krue-” He stopped upon seeing that the sniper hood König wore was significantly different from what the other austrian wore. “Wrong person.” He went back to staring at the room blankly. 

“Are you okay?” König asked softly. 

“Да” was the blunt reply. It bugged König, so he sat down opposite him. “...what are you doing?”

“You seemed lonely, Soldat. Without Krueger around, at least.”

A short silence, the man’s stare locked on his. He almost thought he was being ignored. “...we’re fine.” His tone sure, as though there wasn’t a chance he couldn’t be okay.

We? König rationalized it as referring to him and Krueger. “Either way, I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s-”

“König.” he cut him off. “Krueger pointed you out to us.” 

…maybe he wasn’t referring to both of them. “Uh, ja. Ja, that’s me.” He nodded. “He never told me your name.” He was only met with a slight nod. Okay, maybe being direct would help. “What’s your name?”

He seemed to hesitate, his gaze shifting away from König’s face for the first time since he sat down. “Krueger thinks he’s okay…” The soft, barely audible mutter made König’s eyebrow raise, just like the questions in his head. He didn’t voice them. “Nikto.”

“Nikto…” he tested the name on his tongue. “Good to meet you.” Those dull blue eyes were focused on him again. He didn’t return the sentiment at all. If he was shy, König could easily relate. But he had such laser focus on staring at him, not a care if it would be disturbing or off-putting. The Austrian had no idea where to even begin with talking to him. Just one, possibly sensitive topic. “...why do-” 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting him off. He took it out, finding a text from Horangi. A challenge to see who could do more pull-ups. And Horangi being Horangi, there was a 10€ bet thrown down. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Ah, Tiger…” He returned his focus to Nikto. “Sorry. Horangi was just wanting to-” 

“Go on.” The Russian's voice didn’t hold any contempt. Just acceptance that he had other friends. 

König stood up, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Okay. Maybe we can…talk later?” he offered, not getting much of a response. “See you later, Nikto.” He walked away.

As he left, he heard his voice, a response that gave him a bit of hope for cheering him up.

“Да. Later, König.”

[saddled-on-stars]

Hey! So for some reason your ask was deleted somehow?? It disappeared from my drafts?! But anyways, here you go lovely <3 @habitabel asked: please write Keatlejuice gifting reader stuffed animals please 🙏 and then listening to reader ramble on about the names, backstories, and how they got the stuffed animals they already have ty 🫶 I’m sorry that this one took me so long!! I hope you enjoy it!!

Happy reading! - Star ★

-★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Requested by: @habitabel (THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME, I'm sorry that this took so long 😭🙏) -★-★-★-★-★-★-★-

- ★ - Stuffing Stories - ★ -

It’s 3AM, and the only sounds in the room are of your own groaning, and the pillows shuffling along your bed. You can’t sleep due to the constant negative thoughts running through your brain, at a million miles a minute.

The day was going great—work was it’s typical busy, but you don’t mind, and you even had a lighthearted chat with your coworker about your shared love for old sitcoms. But then came the side-eyed comment about your ‘Unwilling Service’ from someone who didn’t even know you, and how much it got into your head. You were just trying to answer their question, which was unbelievably bizarre. They asked something about how to get to the park that was thirty minutes away. Hell, you didn’t even know the place existed, and you didn’t work for a directory station.

You are already practically on edge as you walk through your apartment door. Dinner is an afterthought, the thought of eating even something small, sounding like too much of a task. And though you try distracting yourself with a movie, The Exorcist, obviously, the restless energy refuses to fade.

It isn't just today, though. Sleep had been a problem for weeks, a relentless cycle of tossing and turning that left you staring at the ceiling, wondering why you just couldn’t sleep. Tonight is no different. The clock ticked past midnight, then 1AM, now 2AM, each passing minute a reminder that tomorrow would be another day of exhaustion.

Your chest grows tight, your breathing shallower than you’ve experienced, in a LONG time for that matter. The usual distraction techniques aren’t working. Counting sheep, breathing exercises, even scrolling through your phone—all useless.

You pull the covers over your head, but the heaviness of the day’s events looms large. That offhand comment from earlier—’unwilling service…’ Did they mean lazy? Disinterested? Were they secretly annoyed with you? Did everyone at work feel that way? Was it the same with your friends?

The spiraling thoughts claw their way deeper. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. You hadn’t meant to start tossing and turning, the pillows shuffling deeper.

"Fuck, what is wrong with me?" you mutter under your breath.

With a shaky breath, you sat up, rubbing your eyes. The weight in your chest hadn’t gone away, but you knew someone who’d make it bearable.

"Beetlejuice," you whispered, voice cracking. "Beetlejuice... Beetlejuice."

The flash of green and black in the corner of the room becomes bright with flair, causing his entrance to be as grand as ever. "It's showtime-”, he begins, but the second he takes one look at you, his demeanor shifts.

“Whoa, whoa. Babes? Fuckin’ hell, you okay?” he says, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your trembling hands and red-puffed eyes, shaking his head as he curses himself for not being there sooner. He’s by your side in an instant, sittiing on the bed with a mix of concern and determination.

“C’mere,” he mutters, pulling you close. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his striped blazer soft against your cheek. “Talk to me, Babes. What’s going on?”

You want to answer, but the lump in your throat won’t let you. Instead, you bury your face into his shoulder, your breaths uneven.

Beej doesn’t press. He doesn’t ask questions. He just shifts back against the headboard, tucking you against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it by yourself, okay? I’m here.”

The familiar rasp in his voice, usually cocky and teasing, was softer now, filled with a warmth you didn’t know you needed.

As you start to calm down, the sound of his voice keeps you grounded. “You know what you need, Babes?” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you with a small grin. “Some quality cuddle therapy... and maybe a new friend. One sec.”

Before you could protest, he vanishes with a poof, leaving you in a sense of longing, wondering where he’s gone. Only for him to reappear quickly, holding something behind his back.

“Ta-da!” He reveals a small stuffed bat with button eyes and a goofy grin. It’s actually quite cute, and it’s got a lot of character, it seems. He chuckles, and holds up the little creature, “Meet, uh... Flappy. Thought you might like him.”

The absurdity, yet adoration, of the name makes you laugh, a weak but genuine sound that seems to lift the tension in the room.

“Flappy, huh?” you say, gently taking the plushie in your hands. “What’s he doing here?”

“Oh, you know. He’s a night owl. Bit of a chatterbox. Thinks you’re the coolest guy around.”, Beej says with a large grin.

You smile, turning the toy over in your hands. “Guess he can join the others.”

Beej’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wait, you’ve got others? Babes, you’ve been holding out on me.”

And just like that, the weight in your chest eases, feeling the utter excitement of getting to share your wholesome obsessions over your stuffed animals, each one having a characterized personality of its own. You find yourself rambling about your collection—each stuffed animal, its backstory, how you’d gotten it.

Beej listens intently, actually seeming interested in what you have to say, throwing in the occasional quip, but mostly just letting you talk.

“And this one’s name is Gemini! My friend named her, since it’s her zodiac sign, but she’s a little fruit bat, who was an orphan from the time she was a baby! She got adopted by a bunch of normal bats, who accepted her into her family, and when she grew up, she went to explore the world!”, you exclaim happily to Beej.

Beej nods with excitement, “Woah, Babes! I had no idea how much you knew about these little guys.”, he says with a joking tone and a wink.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, as you blush. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you with these little guy-”, but you’re quickly cut off.

Beej’s lips are softly pressed against yours, his eyes closed, as your eyes flutter to do the same. You wonder what made him want to do this, but you’re too shocked to care.

He pulls back slightly to look in your eyes, chuckling softly. “Do not EVER apologize for that, Babes. I think hearing about them is very sweet to hear from you. And besides, what kind of demon would love you if they didn’t hear about your little stories?”, he asks with a smile.

Your face is surely entirely red now. What did he say?

“W-What did you just say?”, you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His black-circled eyes soften as he gazes at yours, “I love you.”, he says in a whispered tone, his gaze flickering to your lips.

Your gaze follows to his own lips, as you softly whisper back, “I love you too.”. You lean closer slowly, closing the space once again.

Out of all the backstories that you’ve shared tonight, this one will always be your favorite.

- ★ - Written By Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[tropes-and-tales]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

(Richard Muñoz x F!Reader)

CW:  Light angst (talk of anxiety disorders, therapy, and medication); bad first dates; two shy dummies who are destined for each other. Fluffy goodness, as one would expect with Richard.

Word Count:  3951

AN:  This was requested a long time ago by @frasmotic - sorry it took a lifetime to write this!

AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way whatsoever.

Richard only agrees to the blind date because he’s had absolutely no luck in finding dates on his own.  When he sits and tries to calculate the last time he went out with a woman, his mind boggles at the years—not months—that have passed since then.

When he tries to calculate the last time he had a bona fide girlfriend, he despairs and gives up before he comes up with the exact amount of time that has passed.

Anyway, he doesn’t require precise numbers.  He knows how he feels:  lonely.  He has his dog but no one else.  He lives alone, spends his evenings and weekends alone.  Spends his holidays alone.  His sole interaction with humans is from his coworkers and whatever paltry connections he can build with customer service employees.

It’s a fellow guard, Mike, at the prison who sets up the blind date.  Mike’s sister-in-law is similarly shy, the same sort of introvert as Richard.

“A real nice gal, Rich,” Mike explains over lunch.  “Smart, has a good job.  Owns her own house.  She just has trouble meeting a nice guy.  Everyone on the apps are either creeps or assholes who ghost her.”

Richard would never agree to it, but then Mike slides his phone across the table to him.  He’s pulled up your profile on social media, and Richard studies your picture.

“She’s pretty,” Richard admits.  He feels a fluttery swooping in his gut at the thought of taking you out, but Mike is something of a bull in a china shop, and before Richard can even stop it, his fellow guard is setting up a double date for him and his wife, and you and Richard.

“Safety in numbers,” Mike says, and it seems that Richard has little to do other than show up and be himself.  As if it’s that easy.

“Dios,” he mutters after his lunch break ends.  Already he’s flushing at the thought, his palms slick with sweat.

-----

The date is supposed to be low stakes:  dinner at Mike’s house.  There are no public spaces to navigate, no random people to throw Richard off what little game he has.  He turns up at Mike’s house ten minutes early with a bottle of wine that he spent far too much time agonizing over at the store.  In his other hand he clutches a mixed bouquet, and that took too much time to choose too.

The zenith of the date is here, on Mike’s front porch, the few moments before he knocks.

It goes downhill from there.

*****

Your sister married an idiot, but Mike has his sweet moments.  For example, this date he set up.  To hear your sister tell it, it was mostly Mike’s idea. 

“He worries about you,” she told you weeks ago.

You snort and shake your head, secretly pleased that your brother-in-law is so, well, brotherly to you. 

“He’s only worried you’ll get stuck with me when I’m old and infirm,” you replied.

“Not true.  Besides, he said this guy, Richard?  Said he’s nice.  Shy, like you.  He thinks you’ll hit it off.”

You can’t quite buy into Mike’s optimism.  Because the guy, this Richard, barely looks at you, and he says even less.

Mike introduces you with an expectant smile.  Richard is cute, you decide, edging against handsome.  You offer him a smile, tell him you’re happy to meet him.  In reply, you get the limpest handshake in the history of mankind, and then Richard winces, swipes his hand against his pants. 

Mike frowns slightly but rebounds.  He claps Richard on his back and tells you about how your date works in the letter room of the prison.

“Tell her about it,” Mike prods gently.

“It’s not that interesting,” Richard mumbles.

Which is about all he says to you all evening.

Bless your sister and brother-in-law, though.  They try to help Richard along.  They do all they can to open up lines of conversation, to sing your praises to him, to sing his praises to you.  They uncork a second bottle of wine.  They put on some low music to fill in the awkward gaps of silence. 

During the start of dinner, you are merely perplexed.  Are you hideous to him?  Do you smell abhorrent?  He’s not even being polite, and as the evening drags on, your confusion cedes to a low-simmering anger—which makes your own shyness fade.

“More broccoli?” you ask him, and you move to hand him the dish.  The motion makes Richard flinch way too hard, and his hand catches the edge of his wine glass.  The deep red merlot splashes on your dress, and you slide back from the table, then stand.  Richard doesn’t turn to look at you; he only stares at the widening stain on the tablecloth, and he hisses out a low, tortured fuck.

Your sister stands too, and she gives a polite ‘excuse us, gentlemen,’ then ushers you to the powder room where the two of you daub at the splash of wine.

“This is not going well,” she finally murmurs to you.

“You think?”  It comes out sarcastic, and you wince when you catch her reflection in the mirror.  She looks apologetic.

“Mike said he was awkward…”  She tries to explain the rude behavior away but then trails off, goes silent.

You sigh.  You tilt your head towards the ceiling and shut your eyes for a beat.  Another awful date, and this one had been served to you on a silver platter. 

“It’s not Mike’s fault,” you finally concede.  “And anyway, it’s almost over.”

-----

When the two of you return to the dining room, it turns out the date is already over.  Mike sits alone, picks at the food on his plate, and he looks at you gloomily as he announces that Richard left.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I have no idea what his fucking problem was.”

You return to your seat and try to school the tears that prickle behind your eyelids.  Are you that terrible a prospect?  You know you aren’t some great beauty, but you have a lot going for you—

“I’m sorry,” Mike repeats, quieter, and you glance over to see him shaking his head. 

“It’s okay,” you reply, even though it isn’t.  This hurts, and it draws cracks in your foundation.  You know there will be fallout to your confidence in the days and weeks that follow.

You don’t have the heart to stay much longer, and your sister walks out with you as you climb into your car.  You wave at her and drive off, and you are a block away when your sister turns to go back into the house.  Something bright catches the corner of her eye, and she looks down at the ornamental shrubs that stand beside the porch.  Tangled in the low branches is a bouquet of flowers, tossed aside.  She bends down and scoops them up, notices that they look pretty fresh.  She takes them inside.

“What you got there?” Mike asks when she joins him in the kitchen.  He’s scraping off plates and loading the dishwasher, and he watches as she snags a vase from the cabinet under the sink.

“Flowers.  They were thrown in the shrubs by the porch.”

“Huh.”  Mike looks at them, then pulls together a theory.  “You think Richard brought them?”

“And threw them away before he even came in?”  She shakes her head.  “Why?”

*****

If Richard had enough money, he’d quit his job and move to the other side of the country.  Hell, he’d move to the other side of the globe if he could pull it off.

He’s never been so ashamed.  So embarrassed.  Mortified.  There’s no adjective that can capture the depth of shame he feels at how he acted on his date.

He can’t even really explain it—though he tries, of course, when Mike angrily corners him in the breakroom the following Monday.  Richard tries to explain how out-of-body he felt, how the moment he knocked on Mike’s door and heard footfalls making their way to let him in, he panicked.  He tossed the flowers away, suddenly terrified that the cheerful blooms looked cheap in their cellophane wrapping. 

And it only got worse from there.

He broke out in a sweat immediately.  He felt it trickling down his temples, had to daub it away with his shirt sleeve on the sly.  He felt his armpits growing damp, felt flushed and sickly, feverish.  The air in the room was too warm and too heavy, like breathing through soup, and the shallow breaths he took only made the panic grow.

Then you entered the room and for heaven’s sake:  you were pretty in the pictures Mike showed him, but you looked downright angelic in person.  Dress lightly skimming your curves, gentle smile on your face as you looked at him expectantly.  When you stepped closer to introduce yourself, Richard caught the scent of you—faintly sweet, a warm smell.

How could he feel anything but shame to shake your hand with his own sweaty palm?  You were perfect, and he felt unwieldy, monstrous beside you.

And you had tried to be kind anyway.  Tried to converse with him, asked him questions about his life that he only grunted at.  He asked you no questions in return, and when you tried to pass him some food, he ended up staining your beautiful dress with the wine he brought.

Of course he fled.  Of course he spent the drive home cursing himself, cursing his stupid brain that was always so eager to flood itself with stress hormones the minute a situation got uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells Mike in the breakroom of the prison.  He tries to explain it, assumes he fails like he does everything else.  “Please…tell her it wasn’t her fault at all.”

“Of course it wasn’t her fault!”

Richard flinches at the anger in Mike’s voice, but then he hangs his head.  He lets the fresh wave of misery course through him.  “She was too good for me anyway.”  It comes out a low mumble, but Mike must catch it anyway.  The other man sighs after a long beat, then lays a heavy hand on Richard’s shoulder.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown you into the lion’s den like that,” he concedes.  “But for fuck’s sake, man.  You made her feel terrible.”

“I know.  I mean, I guessed as much.”

“So it wasn’t a love match.”  Mike drops his hand and sighs again.  “But it would help a lot to apologize to her.  She’s beating herself up pretty bad.”

Richard looks up, surprised.  “She’d be willing to see me again?”

“Doubtful,” Mike replies with a shake of his head.

“Then how—”

“Fuck, man.  You work in the fucking letter room, right?  So write her a letter.  I’ll get it to her.”

*****

You’re not overtly depressed over it.

You’re also not okay about it.

It doesn’t help that the days are getting shorter.  It gets dark early, so it’s easy to justify the hermit-nature you’re embracing.  You come home from work, you walk your dog, and then you spend long hours in your pajamas watching trashy reality TV shows before you go to bed.

You sleep a lot.  It helps with the little pit of despair your failed blind date opened up in you.  It shook your confidence harder than you would have thought.  You’re generally pretty sturdy in your sense of self, but each year that passes without any success with the men erodes it more than you care to admit.

You spend the week after the failed date wallowing.  No sense in white-knuckling through it.  You feel bad for yourself, you go a bit maudlin, and you start to climb your way out…

Then your sister stops by for a visit, and when she goes to leave, she hesitates, then reaches into her purse.

“This is for you,” she says, but she holds it for a long moment before she hands it to you.  It’s a white envelope, and it bears your name across the face in unfamiliar handwriting.

She takes in your puzzled expression and clarifies.  “It’s from Richard.”

“Ah.”

“He felt terrible, sweetie.”

“That makes two of us, then.”

She studies you for a beat.  “You know, he brought you flowers, but something made him panic, I think.  I found them tossed behind a shrub after you left.”

You furrow your brows in confusion.  “Kinda weird.”

“Kinda.  But not serial killer weird, at least.”

You smile.  “True enough.”  You hold up the envelope.  “At least he didn’t ghost me.”

-----

You’d like to say that you have a certain measure of patience, but the moment your front door clicks behind your sister, you tear that envelope open like a wild animal.  Your curiosity allows nothing else.

It’s a single page, but Richard’s printing is small and tight.  You have to hold the paper closer to the light to read it.

It’s an apology, of course.  A genuine one that goes a long way at softening your heart to the man who had been so impolite at your date.  Because he tries to offer an explanation too—the utter panic he felt, the crippling anxiety—and that softens you too.

You know about that sort of panic, that sort of anxiety.  It used to cripple you too until intense therapy and the right combination of meds helped you tame it.  Still, you can feel it claw at your chest sometimes, so your anger at Richard is replaced by understanding.

Also, he drops this line in the middle of his letter, and when has a man ever said (or written) something so guilelessly sweet?

I think you might not realize how beautiful you are, Richard wrote in his cramped, neat printing.  I was already struggling to breathe from the panic, but the moment I saw you, I couldn’t breathe at all.

“Richard, you surprising son of a bitch,” you whisper aloud in your kitchen, and you reach for your phone to text your sister.

*****

It’s grace that Richard doesn’t feel he deserves, yet Mike offers it:  a second chance.

“It’s a big holiday party,” Mike explains when he hands Richard the invitation.  “My wife fucking loves all that Martha Stewart, Bing Crosby, chestnuts on an open fire bullshit.  There will be a lot of people there, so...”

He trails off, but Richard catches his meaning.  A lot of people will serve as cover for Richard.  He’ll be able to melt into the crowd, peel off into another room if his anxiety threatens to choke him.

He’s not so sure it will, though.  In the month and a half since that terrible first impression, and since he found out his apology letter was well-received, Richard has taken control of it.  For the first time in his life, he got angry—angry enough to make an appointment to see his doctor.  Angry enough for a referral for a therapist.  Angry enough to try out a low dose of anti-anxiety medication.

There was no shame in it, he had decided.  If a person had high blood pressure, didn’t they get medicine for it?  Richard had grown up in a home that stigmatized feelings in general, and he had always taken the ‘ignore-it-and-it’ll-go-away’ approach to his own mental health. 

But when Mike had told him—secondhand, through his wife—how well you had responded to Richard’s letter, he felt that flush of anger.  At himself, partially, but also at the family legacy of suffering in silence.  Why had he suffered so long with no relief?  Why did you offer him more kindness than he had ever offered himself?

Hence the meds.  Hence the forty-five minutes every week where he awkwardly stammered through his overanxious thoughts, his family history, his own history.

And it seems to be working.  The medication seems to drop a thin veil between him and his own head.  It gives him the barest bit of a barrier, just enough protection from himself.  The therapy gives him the tools to understand why he reacts the way he does.  Richard comes to understand that it’s his low self-esteem that drives much of his social panic, and his therapist prescribes him a list of mantras he is to repeat to himself in the mirror each morning and night.

It embarrasses him at first.  His reflection flushes in the mirror as he says nice things to himself…but damned if it doesn’t seem to work.

-----

Who can say why it goes better the second time around?  Maybe it’s the meds or the therapy, or maybe it’s the barest bit of understand Richard has achieved through his letter to you.  Maybe it a combination of all three things.  Richard doesn’t linger over the why because the what is so much more gratifying.

What is it?  It’s…so much better.  Richard arrives at the perfect time—not too early, not too late.  He walks through the front door, and he doesn’t toss aside the bouquet of flowers this time.  His heart hammers in his chest, but he remembers to breathe, remembers to smile.  He repeats his mantras in his head as he makes his way through the growing throng to find you.

I am worthy of happiness.  I am worthy of love.  I am open to new possibilities.

He finds you alone in the kitchen, half-bent in front of the oven and peering at whatever cooks inside it.  You’re just as beautiful as he remembered.  His pulse picks up, rapid, but he swallows.  Takes a breath.

I am worthy of happiness.  I am worthy of love.

“Hello,” he says.

You stand up and turn; at the sight of him, you smile.  At the sight of the flowers in his hand—a wintry mix of white roses and sprigs of cut pine—your smile grows wider.

“Those would look better in a vase than tossed in the azalea out front,” you tease, but you say it gently with that smile on your face, and Richard shakes his head ruefully.

“I thought I might wait at least a few hours before I throw wine on you, too,” he jokes back.  The joke lands because you laugh—a merry sound that makes him chuckle.

You reply that you specifically wore black in case he turned up, and he chuckles at that too, but then he turns serious.  He apologized by letter, but he knows he has to say it to your face as well.

“I am sorry about that evening,” he says now.  “I’m m-mortified…”  He trails off when he stammers, and he feels his face flush hotly.  Dammit, he thinks, but then he realizes what he’s doing—he’s falling back into the deep rut of old behavior, so he thinks an abbreviated mantra over and over to steer himself away from the cliff’s edge where he stands.  I’m worthy, I’m worthy, I’m worthy—

His thoughts are interrupted by your soft hand, tentative, on his arm.  Just for a second you touch him.  Just enough to reassure him, because he looks into your eyes and sees only understanding. 

“You don’t have to apologize again.  It’s in the past.”

“I just—”

You shake your head, cut him off with a smile.  “I have an entire lifetime of awkward social moments.  I get it.  Really.”

What else can he do but gaze back at you, to return your smile with his own?  To finally nod his head, to consider himself forgiven?

“Good!”  You break away with a little clap of your hands.  “Now let’s get a vase for those flowers, and then you can help me with the mini quiches my sister has baking.  I forgive you, but your penance is being a fellow cater-waiter for the evening, okay?”

What else can he do but laugh at that, then give you a little salute?  How can he resist your charm as the two of you take orders from your sister, the hostess?  The two of you spend most of the party in the kitchen together, running the dishwasher, drying glasses, uncorking bottles of wine, refilling trays of food.  You take turns rejoining the party proper, but when you regroup in the kitchen after each excursion, you share little jokes about the other guests, observations and gentle teasing, and Richard realizes late that the entire evening passes and he hasn’t broken out in a cold sweat once.

He realizes that he hasn’t overthought anything either.  Hasn’t ruminated over his words.  He’s at ease, and he’s enjoying himself.

-----

Which means that the night ends far too early. 

His role in the kitchen gives him a bit of a reprieve:  when the other guests leave, Richard stays behind and helps clean up.  Not that you or your sister asked—he volunteers to stay, and he misses the bemused look that passes from your sister to Mike.  You miss the look too.

You and Richard tidy up as best you can.  The bulk of the cleanup will be in the morning, but you put away the leftovers, you set the dishwasher for one last load, and you sweep away the crumbs. 

The cleanup ends far too early too.

You get his coat for him from the guest bedroom, and then you walk him to the door.  Mike had said you were shy too, but Richard has never seen it—until now.  At parting, you turn shy.  You don’t quite meet his eye, and you stammer out how you had fun, as you thank him for his help.

It’s funny how much your sudden shyness endears you more to Richard.  He recognizes the emotion in you, and it makes the kinship between you feel stronger.  You understand him and he understands you, and when was the last time he felt that sort of connection?

That must be what gives him the mad bit of courage as he stands at the threshold.  You remain indoors, he stands just on the other side of the doorway, and he feels a surge of bravery that makes him lean forward, quick, and brush the gentlest of kisses across your warm cheek. 

“Oh!” you say, startled, and Richard suddenly thinks he’s overplayed his hand.  He feels his own flush creep up from the collar of his coat.

“Sorry, I—”  He starts to say.

“No.  No!  You’re fine!  You’re—”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You just surprised me.”

“Oh.”

You smile, your eyes finding his.  “A nice surprise.”

-----

The entire drive home, Richard can’t stop grinning.  He smiles so much—and has smiled so much throughout the evening—that his cheeks hurt, the muscles so unused to so much effort.  It’s only once he’s inside his own home that he kicks himself; he didn’t get your number or give you his, so there’s no way—

“Just ask Mike for it, dummy,” he mutters to himself, but then he recognizes the negative talk, so he amends it.  “I can just ask Mike for it.  No worries.  Of course I didn’t think of it in the moment.  I was enjoying myself so much.”

But maybe he wasn’t the only one with the mad bit of courage in the end.  When he goes to shed his coat and hang it up in the hallway closet, he checks his pockets for his wallet…and finds a small scrap of paper, folded into fourths.  It’s like a passed-note in school, though no one ever passed him a note during his school years.

It’s from you, of course.  Your elegant cursive with your name and your number, and below that, an invitation to call you sometime so the two of you can get to know each other better.

[pinkdaiisies]

hi! Can you write something for angus Tully where she goes to the sister school of Barton and maybe they have a meet cute in town??? After winter break

Angus Tully X Reader

745 words | i feel like i could write a second part to this. lmk if you guys would read.

Winter break was officially over. The new semester had started, and after your first week back you wanted nothing more than to find a new book in town to make the beginning of the semester somewhat enjoyable.

So that's exactly what you did. Once classes were over that Friday evening, you put on your big coat and scarf and marched into town. Perhaps you would even grab a coffee for the walk back! The walk into town wasn't too long, but it sure felt longer now that a light snow started to fall upon you.

On your walk there, you noticed a lot of the Barton boys headed into town as well. The rowdiness of the teenage boys took your usual quiet and scenic walk into a cold and treacherous journey.

St. Francis was Barton's sister school, meaning you were in forced proximity with loud teenage boys anytime you wanted peace and quiet away from campus. You were even forced to go to formals and spring flings with school! You didn't understand the appeal for any of the Barton students, you thought they were all stuck up and superficial.

Eventually, you made it to the second hand book shop that you loved so dearly. When you opened the door the bell on top of the door rung, and you were met with the labyrinth of stacked books on the floor and bookshelves.

The smell of old books comforted you as you started your hunt for Franny and Zooey by J.D Salinger.

The somewhat alphabetized shelves helped, until you were looking between the S's and the T's with still no sign of the book. You started to run your finger along the books faster and reading the names quicker until you bumped into someone.

""Oh! I'm so sorry-" You started to apologize when you noticed the white book with the green spine in his hand. "That's Franny and Zooey." You said matter of factly. Your eyebrows pinched in annoyance.

"Yes, it is." The tall boy with curly hair said. "I've been wanting to read it for months." The boy flipped through the pages quickly with his thumb.

"I walked here in the snow for that book. Its the only copy they have on the shelf!" You argued, although, you knew deep down the mystery boy had beaten you fair and square to the book. You felt like making him feel a little sorry for you though.

"Well I'm sorry, but I was in here 15 minutes before you, so I don't know what you want me to say. I'm Angus by the way." He threw his name in there at the last second, and for a second, you took your attention off the book and onto the boy in front of you. He was tall... and not too hard to look at. You could tell he went to Barton though by the way he wasn't letting you have the book. Despite the fact that he was handsome, you were not walking out of the book store without that book.

You mumbled your name back in politeness. You needed that book, but had no other way to argue him out of it. You two fell into an awkward silence.

"I'll tell you what, I go to Barton. I'm guessing you go to St. Francis?" You nodded at his question. "Okay so, how about you let me read the book first, and in a week from now we can meet up and I'll lend it to you?" Angus negotiated with a flirtatious smirk.

You figured his idea was pretty reasonable. Either that or his smirk was working.

"Okay. Deal." You reached your hand out for a handshake. He copied you, but you pulled your hand away at the last second. "Only, if you buy me a coffee for my walk back. I'm not going back to school empty handed." You put your hand out again, only this time Angus hesitated. Was coffee to far? Did he not want to be seen out in public with some random girl?

"Deal." Angus smiled as he reached out for your hand. You sighed a breath of relief.

The handshake lasted longer than a handshake should ever be. Angus held incredibly good eye contact with you. Too good... You looked away with a faint blush on your cheeks.

The walk back to St. Francis was better than the walk into town. Coffee in hand and a new friend by your side.

[weeping-statue]

I love your writing, you're literally my favorite writer on here!

If requests are open, can I request headcanons of Norton with a GN!reader who is introverted? Not shy or anything, but they just avoid people because they don't know what to say to anyone.

They don't go up to anyone to speak themselves, so they kind of stare at people (unintentionally) and hope that whoever they're looking at will come up to them.

They're kinda quiet at first, but once you get them talking, they'll never stop.

I was wondering if it can just be general headcanons of what a relationship would be like!

Please and thank you! Sorry if this is too much!

-🔮

I’m so sorry I took me this long to answer, I have a shit ton of asks and I’m trying to get through them<3

That’s very sweet of you tho, I’m happy that you enjoy my work <3

I’ve been editing it here and there but I just needed to post it out today

Norton and a Introvert!Reader

———————————————————————

You just don’t like people, and you don’t know what to say?

Well neither does he.

He thinks they’re rich snobs who’ll try to manipulate him and he just doesn’t think the conversation is even worth it depending on who it is.

He doesn’t speak a lot to begin with, so he doesn’t mind if you talk his ear off, just only when he’s in a good mood.

When he’s in a bad mood he’ll either want to be alone or find solace in your arms, but they’ll both have to be in silence. No more noise.

He enjoys that you’re an introvert because it gives him more of a reason to stay away from everyone.

Sometimes from across a room he can feel someone staring into his back and he’ll immediately know it’s you. He doesn’t find it creepy, since he stares off into space too.

The first time it happened though, he thought you had a problem with him. And asked you what your deal was.

Other people sometimes get creeped out at the blank stare you give but few are used to it.

Norton and you were sitting in the dining room talking, as he polished his magnets.

“I didn’t think kiting a literal wheel would make me want to cry. I don’t understand why I’m getting chased around by a fucking car part. This is just ludicrous.” You exclaimed, sitting across from him with your head in your hands.

Norton nodded, he too hated the three brothers, mainly because they creeped him out, and irritated him. “Annoying bastards is what they are.” He replied.

Fredrick had entered the room overhearing your.. unsavory words about the Will brothers and cleared his throat.

Norton looked him up and down, a scowl emerging on his face. “You’re interrupting our conversation. Get lost.”

Fredrick raised an eyebrow at his bluntness, “Such vulgar behavior. No wonder the only one who tolerates you is the other lowlife.”

Norton stood up immediately, giving you a gesture with his head to follow him. “Apparently it’s a crime to be an introvert.”

Fredrick scoffs as you follow him, not saying another word and letting the two leave.

Outside Norton was waiting for you with his hand out, gripping onto yours tightly. “He’s rich, and loud, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. We’re not lowlifes, we’re just fed up and tired.”

You squeeze his hand in reassurance, “I know.” Dragging him along towards your room smiling, you say, “Come on, I’ll finish telling you all about my match and then I’ll make us some snacks!”

———————————————————————

Lowkey I stare at people with a blank face for some reason until I realize what I’m doing and smile.

[camillomea]

Child of crime alley episode 7:camera records

helluuuu. here is the new episode. thank you for your support with comments. please state your thoughts in the comments. enjoy reading -cami

Jason had returned to the cave after dropping Tim off at the cafe. There was no one there at this hour. He went to the main computer. He sent a message to Barbara

j- Hey Barbara, I have a favor to ask you. Of course, if you are not awake, I will write to you tomorrow

I-I am awake. But I will sleep. What happened at this hour?

j- About Tim

There was no answer but his phone started to ring. It was Barbara. She answered. Jason said “Hey I can ask you later”. He said to Barbara “I am awake, talk”. Jason asked “Do you know where he lives?” Barbara asked “I have no idea. Why are you trying to find him?” Jason said “I am not trying to find him, I already found the area where he lives. He lives in the Alley”. Barbara said “WHAT” in shock. Jason said “Yes. I met him in the evening”. Barbara asked “Did you find out exactly where he lives?” Jason remained silent. Barbara said “Jason”. Jason said “I don’t think he lives anywhere”. He asked Barbara “What”. Jason said “I’m having one of my men investigate but I think he’s homeless.” There was a boom from the other end. Jason said “Barbara.” Barbara said “Please tell me you’re exaggerating or lying.” Jason said “I’m sorry Babs but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration.” He cursed Barbara “Okay what can I do for you?” he said after taking deep breaths to calm himself down for a while. Jason said “I want to access the old camera footage of the cave. I want to know what the hell is going on.” Barbara said “Okay I’ll give you access.” Jason said “Thanks” and turned on the computer. Barbara said “But I want to know every detail.” Jason said “Okay.” They started investigating. The two of them spent the next hours looking at the security footage. They went all the way back to the first footage, they had seen Bruce’s handling of Jason’s death, how crazy he was, how suicidal he was. Then they saw how Tim had dragged himself into this incident, how he became Robin. Jason had stopped the recordings when he first saw Tim. “It’s too small,” he said in a low voice. Barbara remained silent. Jason said, “Babs, how did you not notice this, he is so young,” in hushed tones. His eyes were glowing green. Barbara remained silent. Jason cursed angrily. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then continued to watch. Then, when he saw Tim training with Bruce, Jason was going crazy, he was going crazy. When it was finally over, Jason had to work really hard to calm himself. Every time Tim got hurt, he used the infirmary after every training session to take care of his own wounds, and he had to dress his own wounds, over and over again. Barbara couldn’t say a word either. Jason tried to calm himself for a while, and then he calmed down and said, “Babs, do me a favor and reach Cass, she’s been in town for a while, hasn’t she? Send these to her.” Barbara asked, “Okay, what are you going to do?” His tone was full of anger. Jason said, “I’m going to find Bird and take him to Dr. Leslie. I don’t think he’s even been to a doctor in years. I’m going to make sure everything is okay. Even though I want to beat Bruce to death right now, my priority is Bird,” he said. Barbara said, “Okay, let me know what the doctor says,” and hung up. Jasom got up and took out his phone

J-hey bird. Did you get off work, are you awake?

T- my shift just finished, I’m going to eat something and go to sleep. Why?

J- oh well

He wrote and paused. *How will I convince you? How will I convince you* he thought. Then *I’d better get straight to the point* he thought.

J- hey Timmy well… I’m going to see Dr. Leslie for a check-up. Would you like to come with me? You know Dr. Leslie likes to check all the bats regularly

T- I’ve never been there before

Jason slammed his fist on the table. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. then

J: but you should go, it’s very important for your health, Bird. How about I come get Semi. Then we'll go to Dr. Leslie's and have a nice meal when we get out of there

T-…

t- okay

Jason was relieved

J – okay then I'm coming there bird. See you

He wrote. There was a message from Barbara.

B- I told Dr. Leslie that you were coming. He'll pick you up right away

J- thank you Babs.

He wrote. He closed the screen, got on his motorcycle and left the cave

Notes:

rip bruce. he completly deserve it