#sorry this got long I would have put a read more link but I can’t do that on mobile

[gatesofember]

can there be nice gentle spoilers

I am in so much pain, I'm halfway through a re read and I can't do it hfksfkkdkfkdkd thank you for all this tho

But, can there be sweet wholesome spoilers if there was anything of the sort

How is Reyna, and Jason and etc etc etc

I'm really interested in how apollos relationship alter because of the grief

"the baby is stillborn" made me sob

Do they. Nico and Will. Are they still so gentle about their love. I'm so

YEAH THIS IS DESPAIR HOW DO I MAKE IT MORE CLEAR NFJSKFKDKFK

👉👈 are you mad at me

idk much about anyone else tbh a lot of other story lines got abandoned

surprised the stillborn baby got that much of a reaction bc I know for a fact that at least a few people saw that one coming miles away. but ig the point wasn’t really to shock you. I actually think it’s worse when you sense that something horrible is going to happen but the characters in the story don’t know it so you have to watch them start to feel hope knowing that it’s all just going to be ripped away and then the horrible thing happens and there was nothing you could do about it. :)

but yeah Will and Nico still in love and very gentle together! this is from my notes of what happens when they decide that Nico should go home to Pluto while Will stays with his family:

(ugh. sickening. pathetic.)

don’t worry their relationship was going to get better again and I was going to write a very sweet reunion scene. they were going to hug. it was going to be a really good hug. but then I was going to write a scene where Nico tried to talk to Lou Ellen and she made it very clear that her best friend and husband would still be alive if it wasn’t for Nico :)

I remember writing something about Will noticing Apollo and Daphne quietly sitting together with their hands touching while everyone was grieving (Hyacinthus was going to be there for him too ofc! they’re poly)

idk if I ever actually did this while writing the series but Nico’s nickname for Will was going to be “lark.” I know he said it at least once when he woke up after their wedding but it was supposed to be A Thing. mega cringe, super cute.

[megamindsecretlair]

Hi, beloved! ❤️ Would you be down to write about Terry Richmond using some rope tricks that he learned from his Marine training on reader? 🤭 If not, I completely understand and you’re still amazing !😘

A/N: Forgive me, I know this doesn't technically fit the bill, but this got my mind spinning. Let me know if you want a more faithful response.

Touch Me Like You Care

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, spanking, lite bondage, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry comes home to find you reading in bed, all thoughts of getting dressed out of your mind as you rest. He was prepared to let you, truly, but then he finds that you’re not wearing the bracelets he bought you. And well, he can’t let that slide, can he?

Word Count: 4,475k

AO3 Link

A/N: @planetblaque knows I can deny her nothing!! Whew, everytime I think I can take a break from this man, ya'll pop out with all of these amazing fics! I'm so over the moon to see so much activity. We fr just tossing this man around like a beach ball and I love that for us!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You pulled your dresser open and searched for your favorite pair of thigh high socks. Ever since the weather turned, you were back to shivering every two seconds, feeling colder than a witch’s broomstick no matter what you did. 

After a refreshing shower, you opted to dry under your blanket hoodie, feeling the need to retreat from having to be “on” all the time. Navigating the world as a Black woman was fucking exhausting. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your latest dirty book. There was a subtle increase in Black led romances that were making you stay up to the wee hours of the morning reading. The latest book was absolutely filthy from your favorite author. The anticipation for this book had been immense, the group chat blowing up with speculations and guesses.

The book was getting better, when the couple who swore they hated each other was about to fuck that tension out since fighting got them nowhere. You squealed, picking up the nearest pair of socks. You tore your gaze away long enough to put your socks on.

You looked around the room for your blanket hoodie. It was sitting on the famous chair, piled on top of a mountain of clothing that was near toppling over. You grabbed the hoodie and then checked in on your phone. 

Oh, the tension. The passion. It just ate you up inside when the characters got to that part. Confessing their love in drunken confessions or in the middle of an argument. Ouee, your body was on fire just thinking about it. Your pussy clenching at the details. The rich words creating a movie in your mind’s eye.

Abandoning your hoodie, you laid across the bed and decided to air dry. With the way this book was going, you might need a second shower. You rested your head on your closed fist and let your mind drift, picturing the scene.

You didn’t hear when your boyfriend called your name after he arrived home. Or how his heavy footfalls padded down the hallway to your bedroom. Or how he called your name again when he stood in the doorway. You didn’t hear the subtle camera click as a picture was taken.

Somewhere between the fifth and…counting?... sex scene, you ended up on your tummy, legs high behind you, tapping your socked feet together. You were literally kicking your feet as the characters kept telling each other that they hated each other as they were clutching onto each other for dear life. 

You sighed. You simply ate this shit up. You were already mentally typing up your notes for your review on Goodreads. Ouee, maybe you should start keeping a side notebook. Just to jot down bullet points so your scatterbrained mind didn’t forget a single detail. 

Fingers reached across your ass and you yelped, looking behind you ready to scream. Terry stood behind you, his head tilted and a smirk on his luscious face. You choked out a laugh, rolling to one side so you could look at him better. 

He looked damn good in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Terry slid his fingers absently across your bare ass, tracing the globes up and down. Your body shivered, pussy clenching with need. You gazed at your man. At the smooth planes and lines of his face, the cut of jaw, those big pink lips. 

“You didn’t hear me calling you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said, giving him a cutesy grin. 

His lips twitched but he didn’t let himself smile. “You’re not cute. You have to be more aware of your surroundings,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding. “Though to be fair, the only man getting in here is you.”

“Mhm,” he said, nodding his own head. “You reading your dirty books?” 

“Yes! You remember my favorite author?” You asked. 

Terry nodded, hiking his eyebrow up as he encouraged you to tell him all about your favorite author. And the book you were currently reading. “And I just got to the good part,” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. He trailed his fingers between your legs as he moved away and you gasped. For two reasons. On the one hand, Terry’s hands on you always instantly put you in the mood. With your pussy already wet, you were thinking it was a good time for a break. 

On the other hand, you forgot that you had taken off your gifts from him while you showered. It was the only time you were allowed to do so. You meant to put the ankle and thigh bracelet back on when you lotioned up but plum forgot.

Terry stopped and you could feel his stare. It burned in the back of your head. Your heart thumped in your chest. You had no idea what he was going to do.

“Baby,” Terry’s deep timbre was a physical caress down your spine. You stretched your back and bit your lip. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said, pitching your voice higher. 

“Where are your bracelets?” He rubbed his thumb across your thick thigh. The weight of those words pressed down on you, making you want to retreat in your mind. You began to pant, feeling out of sorts. You were so turned on you could barely breathe. But you were also worried about what kind of punishment you were about to receive. 

“I just showered,” you said. You rolled so that you could look at his pretty face. To at least try to gauge where his mind went. Terry stopped you by wrapping his hand around your thigh. 

“I believe you. But you’re out of the shower now,” he said. 

“I really forgot this time,” you said. 

Terry sighed, the sound like a coin drop in an empty room. “You know what we have to do now, right?” He asked.

“You sure I can’t bargain out of this one? I can be pretty cute, you said so,” you said. 

“Up,” he said, his calm voice making matters worse. You may as well have been pleading your case to a brick wall. There was no changing his mind.

You got to your knees and then flipped over, scooting to the edge of the bed. Terry rolled his shoulders as he moved to your closet. He pulled a pine green box down from the top shelf. 

He placed the large, repurposed gift box on your dresser and opened it. Cheery snowmen looked at you from the painted edges as Terry rummaged around. He drew out a pair of leather cuffs and crossed over to you.

You pouted at him as he strapped the cuffs to your wrists. There was a small golden link between them keeping it connected and not giving you much room to escape. You tested the pull on it as you tried to separate your wrists. No dice. 

Terry grabbed the link and pulled you into a standing position. He sighed deeply, his voice a rumbling thunder behind it with a hum as he stared you down. “I had plans to treat you so well when I got back,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you said, the curse flying fast. You rubbed your thighs together, staring up into his pretty colorful eyes. Every time you looked at them, they were a different color. You loved to see the changes, especially this up close. His eyes went more brown when he was like this, when he’d sunk into that role of being in charge. Of being protective. 

He kissed your cheek, softly, reverently, his juicy lips leaving a small wet spot behind. He moved down to your lips, not quite kissing you. He hummed and smirked. “Whatever happens, just know that I love you, okay?” 

“Terry,” you huffed. His name was a plea and a curse all in one. You didn’t know what was worse. Knowing the torture was coming or having to live through it. Your thighs were on fire, burning with the need to have him between them. 

He pulled you closer by the cuffs, kissing you completely this time. He brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, hands warm. You licked his lips and he moaned. “Nice try,” he said against your lips. 

He said that, but you stepped closer, rubbing yourself against his growing bulge. He chuckled, letting you, looking down while you rubbed on him. He grinned and then grabbed your shoulders, turning you around. He pushed you down. You let out a soft oomph, flopping onto the bed. 

He grabbed your hips, pushing you further up your big ass bed. He positioned you how he wanted, close to the edge, but not so close that he didn’t have free range behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you could only hear him moving around behind you.

It sounded like he was rummaging through the goody box again. You sighed. Digging your toes into the bed. “Start reading,” he commanded, voice sharp.

How the hell were you supposed to read anything? You hesitated, looking at your phone. There was no way you’d be able to concentrate and he knew that. 

“Baby,” you said and licked your lips. 

Terry said nothing and again, you felt his gaze bearing down on you. You whimpered as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and swiping back to your phone. You began reading aloud, reading about the sex scene you were in the middle of. 

Reading it aloud to Terry, picturing him as the main male character, you were miserably wet. Dripping practically. You sighed, thinking of your ruined bed. You’d have to spend tonight doing laundry. 

Terry’s massive hand slapped across your ass, the recoil loud enough to rival a gunshot. You squealed, falling forward onto the bed. Heat bloomed between your thighs, warming up your core to a dangerous level. 

It still really fucking hurt though. Your ass stung and you swore that you could feel aftershocks of his hand, slapping across your ass over and over. “Fuck, fuck!” You yelled out. 

“Keep reading,” he said. 

You got back to your knees and arched your back like he positioned you in before. You returned to reading out loud, pussy throbbing at the way the words made you feel. You got to an explicit part when Terry’s hands came back down. He smacked your ass a handful more times, covering a wide area and making your ass light up like a Christmas tree.

Tears welled in your eyes from the pain and the pleasure. It was too much stimulation. “Please, please, fuck me. I can’t take it,” you whimpered. The words on your phone swam in your vision as your body contracted with shivers. Both from the radiating waves of heat and the burn low in your belly. 

Terry rubbed his hands across your ass and you screamed, kneeling away from his hands. Wherever he touched, your ass sang with pain. “Are you going to remember to put your bracelets on?” 

You nodded. “Yes, I swear,” you said. 

Terry shoved his fingers between your legs, plunging right up your pussy. You collapsed onto the bed, twitching. “Mhm, I didn’t give you permission to cum,” he said. 

“Daddy, pleaseeee,” you pleaded, lower belly twinging with the pain of fighting off your orgasm. 

“You can get wetter than this, baby,” he said. 

“I can’t,” you said, drool seeping into the navy covers beneath you. Your face was smashed into the bed, no way to hold yourself up while his fingers stroked your walls. The loud squelching of your pussy, wet because of him, made you clench around his fingers and moan. 

He placed his free hand on your ass, giving you the dual sensation of sweet torture and cruel relief. He moved his fingers faster, stretching you out with his long, thick fingers. You rode yourself on his fingers, throwing it back and he moaned. He smacked your ass more lightly this time, more in encouragement than anything else. 

“Please let me cum. Please let me cum,” you said, legs twitching. You couldn’t hold off any longer. 

Terry leaned down over your body, placing his lips as close to your ear as he could get it. “Nahhh,” he said slowly, a subtle rasp in his voice. You bit your lip and rode him harder, showing him that you needed more. “Gotta earn that shit.” 

You sobbed into your bed, tears streaming freely. You were about to explode. Come undone at the seams. “Daddy, please. Pleaaseee. Pleaaasseeee, ouee, pleeasseee,” you moaned, desperately riding his fingers. 

“You know what Daddy needs,” he said. 

Tears leaked freely, mixing with the drool and pooling onto the covers. Your mind turned to mush, no longer able to keep reading. Your moans were loud and near screaming. Your throat raw with the effort. Your essence flooded his fingers and he hummed in satisfaction. 

“There’s my good girl,” he purred. He suddenly flipped you over, not giving you a chance to work with him. He was too impatient, too needy, too rough as he positioned you on your back. He pushed your arms above your head, giving you a look. You planted your hands above your head and knew better to move them. 

It pushed your breasts up, giving him a total view of your chest. He groaned, eyes tracking to your pert nipples. Terry folded you in half, scooting his thighs beneath your back, holding you spread open for him. 

He placed soft kisses to your wet pussy, lips smacking from your juices. “Baby, I can’t hold it no more,” you said.

“You’re gonna hold it because Daddy told you to,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. You whimpered, whined, trying to breathe through being folded like a pretzel. 

Your toes brushed against the bed with every rocking motion from Terry as he got himself comfortable. He continued kissing your pussy, stopping to look back and stare at your pussy. His lips began to glisten with your essence. 

You groaned, a primal, possessive side of you jumping out. You marked your claim. It was your juices on him. Your essence feeding him. 

“Daddy, please,” you cried out. From this position, you saw his face perfectly. He stared at your pussy like a man possessed. Like a greedy man with the richest treasure in the world. Your heart softened just as your pussy throbbed. 

Terry smirked. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy. She miss me?” He asked. As if you hadn’t gone two and half rounds when you woke up this morning. As if he wasn’t driving you insane nearly every time you got within two feet of each other. 

“Yes, Daddy, she missed you,” you moaned. 

“Yeah? She gon’ be good and cum when I say?” He asked. He stared at you from beneath his long eyelashes framing his stormy blue eyes while his tongue rolled out of his mouth. He used the tip of his tongue to search through your soaked curls, separate your pussy lips, and flick across that little bundle of nerves. 

“Ouee, shit,” you moaned. Sweat beaded on your forehead. Your heart beat so loudly, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it. You huffed, watching his tongue work around your clit. Feeling it was even better. His breath was hot across your pussy, making your breaths stutter in your chest.

His lips followed his tongue, going deeper, playing with the rim of your entrance before dipping his tongue inside you. You cried out, belly fluttering. You moved your hands and Terry’s eyes narrowed. 

Fresh tears leaked from your eyes, dripping down the side of your face. “Pleasseee,” you begged. 

“You’re doing so well, already,” he moaned. He sped up, licking you, eating you, devouring you as he lapped at your pussy. Fresh essence dripped out of you and he licked that up too. He moaned, burying his nose and face into your pussy. He ate like a man starved. Sloppily. Messily. 

“Oue, fuck, ouee,” you screamed.

Terry moved closer, like he was trying to shove his whole face inside of you. His plush lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. 

“Oh fuck! Terry! Terry!” You screamed. Your body began twitching. The orgasm you staved off was coming whether you wanted it to or not. Terry stopped altogether, suspending your body in the midpoint between denial and reprieve. 

Your eyes rolled lazily to him, panting, huffing, body feeling like you had been tossed into a barbeque pit. “T-T-”

Terry tilted his head, tongue flat against your clit. You throbbed and pulsed on his tongue but he didn’t move. Your body retreated from the edge in slow increments, relaxing against him. 

You blinked at him, no longer able to communicate a single thought. Terry’s eyes gleamed with sick pleasure. He hummed, moving his tongue against your clit once more. He brought you to the edge and then denied you the rush of pleasure at the last minute. He did it one more time, letting you relax and then bringing you back to the precipice. 

Your belly cramped so bad. Your mouth stopped working. You couldn’t do anything but pathetically moan as he ate his fill. Your toes brushed against the bed again as he leaned back far enough.

“She too tired now?” He asked.

You shook your head. Furthest thing from it. Terry smirked. “You nice and dumb for me, baby?” He asked. He gave you teasing little licks. You hissed and moaned, eyes aching from how hard you closed them from the torture. 

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” Terry said, smacking your ass for good measure. It woke you from the fog long enough to nod. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said. 

Terry grinned and then relented, giving in and eating you with a renewed fervor. “You can cum now, baby,” he moaned into your pussy. His tongue and lips teased your clit. His fingers dipped back inside your entrance, coaxing that sweet, sweet orgasm out of you.

You screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Or hell, maybe you joined them. Lights burst behind your eyelids as you came with so much force, you couldn’t breathe. Your pussy ached and throbbed, thighs shaking against Terry’s face as he teased you throughout the whole ride. 

He slowed down as he sensed that you were coming down, drawing out his teasing licks and kisses to your pussy. He pulled back and your essence dripped from his face. He looked like he went swimming in your pussy. His entire jaw was covered, shiny and wet. You wish you could take a picture of him like this.

A long spit chain connected you to him and he moaned, ending on a hiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ pussy,” he huffed as he regained his own breathing. “Turn that ass over.”

Terry lowered you to the bed while he hopped off. He made quick work of his clothes, his huffs and puffs the only indication of how badly he was rushing. You were just a noodle, watching him reveal inches of his bronze skin, the veins in his biceps, the tattoos on his arms.

You traced the tattoos more times than you could count, lips twitching with the urge to do so now. His thighs were equally delicious. As big as tree trunks, a light dusting of hair. And that ass. He turned to the side briefly so he could free his long legs from his underwear and sweats. 

“You are so damn pretty,” you mumbled. 

Terry chuckled. You didn’t think he heard you. “That’s my line,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure I told you what you need to be doing.” 

You couldn’t flip over fast enough, giggling. He’d just bent you over and ate you so well, your leg was still wobbly and shaky. Yet you yearned for more. Yearned for his body surrounding you, protecting you, caging you in his embrace. You were greedy. Needing, wanting, craving more. 

Terry descended onto the bed, roughly grabbing your hips and sliding inside with a savage thrust. 

“Oueeee, SHIT, Daddy!” You screamed. He slid out and then slid back in, coating his long dick with your essence. 

“Cream this shit,” he moaned, sliding inside faster. His massive hands gripped your hips and pulled you onto his punishing dick, ramming into you. “Made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy, I was made for you,” you moaned. He stretched you beautifully, slamming into you just as rough as you wanted. As you needed. 

“Just a pretty, tight hole for me to abuse whenever I want?” He asked.

You sobbed, tears gathering in your eyes once more. He hit that magical spot inside of you, the spot only he could reach. No other man, not even your toys, could hit that spot with such precision. With accuracy. He was just as much made for you. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, voice muffled by the covers. The bed dipped as Terry leaned over, planting a fist beside your head to hold up his weight. He used his other hand to grab a handful of braids and yank, baring your throat to him. 

“I wish you could see how creamy you are. Pretty little ring on my dick. So nice and wet,” he cooed into your ear. He pulled your head back so that he could kiss you. His face smelled like you. You moaned and clenched around his dick. He hissed and then growled in your ear. 

“Filling me so deep, Daddy,” you moaned. “So fuckin’ deep, ohmygoood.”

Terry chuckled. He shifted his hips and drove in deeper, possibly down to his base, as he fucked you into the mattress. Your hands stretched out in front of you, gripping onto the covers just trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Untie me, Daddy. Let me feel you,” you begged. 

Terry responded by kissing you, tongue licking your lips. You opened your mouth and played with his tongue. His beautiful, amazing tongue that was capable of the sweetest words and the filthiest things. 

“You don’t know how to behave when you’re free,” he said against your cheek. 

“I’ll behave, I promise,” you whispered. 

Terry moaned, dick throbbing inside you. “I want to believe you,” he said. 

He kept up his brutal, savage thrusts, digging into you and making your belly clench. “Pleasse, Daddy. I want to feel you,” you moaned. 

“All you need to do is feel this dick, baby. Feel how much you mean to me. How much I want to take care of you,” he said.

Each thrust felt like it was going straight to your heart. There was no way you were still flooding his dick. Still making it easier for him to glide and thrust and stroke so far inside you, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. 

“Fuck me so good. So well,” you moaned. 

Terry gripped your hips and then pulled you down harder, faster, rougher. You yelped and squealed, stretched out on the bed, trying to escape. Terry yanked you back, fingers digging into your skin harder. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your thighs trembled from trying to hold yourself up from his hold. He kept you in place, filling you, fucking you good and deep. Your eyes rolled back into your head. But still, your body propelled you forward. Both because of his thrusts and because you just couldn’t take any more. All the edging from earlier had you spent. 

“Sit that ass up,” he panted, breaths falling across your damp back. 

“C-Can’t,” you stuttered. 

Terry grunted and pulled you by the hair until you were on your knees. He sat on his haunches, continuing to pound inside you. 

“You keep telling me what you can’t do. But all this time you been takin’ this dick and doing what Daddy tell you to. Do you know how proud I am of you? So pretty when you listen,” he moaned. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you moaned. 

Terry grabbed your arms and pulled it until the cuffs went over his head. It made you thrust out your chest and he grabbed your titties, playing with your sensitive nipples. He pinched and plucked as he fucked you, kissing your neck and biting your shoulder. 

Your pussy made smacking noises on his dick, sounding thick and creamy. You moans mingled in the room, mixing with the pound of the headboard against the wall. You were constantly getting little dents in it from the force of your lovemaking. It was too much. You tried to sit on his lap but he grunted.  “Mhm,” he said, pulling you into a kneeling position one more time. 

“If I gotta stand you up one more time, you ain’t gon’ like it,” he snapped. 

You whimpered and whined but concentrated on holding yourself up. His dick slammed into your walls while he kissed your neck. One hand gripped your titty and squeezed while his other hand searched lower, rubbing two fingers against your pussy. 

You screamed out, unable to hold off this one. It gobbled you up with the force of it. Tearing you down to your roots, breaking you down to your center, to the very last atom that makes you you. You cried out, shaking, twitching. 

Your vision turned black and your right ear rung with a tinny bell as you came and came in rolling waves. One triggered another for an extended orgasm, body jerking uncontrollably. 

“Cum so pretty,” he said. “You ready for this nut?” 

You could only manage a nod as he rolled his shoulders and moaned in your ear while he came, unloading a thick load of cum inside of you. 

There was no more air in your lungs enough to moan. You could only sigh as he warmed you up from the inside, soaking your walls with his cum. Nothing leaked out as he continued to stroke into you.

Your body arched as he stilled, buried to the hilt. He kissed your neck, your cheek, your jaw. He brought the fingers he used to play with your clit up to your mouth and bid you to suck. 

“Taste that?” He asked.

You nodded. Too spent, too tired, to fucked out to do anything else but yawn. Terry chuckled, and slipped out. His cum leaked out with him, sliding down your leg and dripping onto the bed. 

“Sleepy,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby. But let’s run you a bath first and I’ll change these sheets,” he said. He lowered your arms from his neck and then laid you on your side. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Don’t let me catch you without your bracelets again,” he said.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you yawned, stretching out onto the bed to await his tender, loving aftercare.

WHEW. If you need more like I do, here ya gooo! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[deesseshesca]

PAC : What's the wildest sexual experience bound to happen with your s/o ?

Is not because I ain’t takin that I can’t keep up with love

Good afternoon, pretty souls, today we are diving into the sexual destiny of your relationship.

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

Basing myself on the legal age in my country which is 18

 

PILE 1 

4 cups, Strength, High priestess, Knight wands 

WILD SEX : INVOLVING A THIRD PARTY 

Prostitute, stripper or an unicorn 

Check in : You guys have a very wet cooch. No need for a lube. If you are a man , you know how to move your hips smoothly…hihihi

I’m sorry babe but you’re man/woman ain’t shit. I see you wearing sexy good quality lingerie walking around lather in lotion and perfume and he/she keeping its gaze on the TV. While you are waiting to get into some hardcore sex. If you are a man , I see you walking around in gray sweats, fresh cut and some good cologne. Some of y’all even go as to applying some lip balm but nothing she/he is more preoccupied with their phone. The worst you deserve is all the hype after all the effort you put in. Back then yall used to go round and round, night until sunrise. Now we are getting out off in the shower. He/she can’t bring himself to care. While there are people out here that would kill to be in his/her place. From their perspective y’all need to add another person to bring back the spark. Hey, I am the last one to judge sexual needs but their intention ain’t it. They want the 3 of y’all in a car,fucking. How is that even going to work ? The car is already small for 2 people. The reality is that they don’ t want look at u or even deal with you while y’all fucking. And that right there tells me all I need to know. They don’t care for you any more but they keep you around to satisfy their sick ego. Sorry to announce, he is never going to ask your hand in marriage. If it is a women, she will never accept a long term commitment with you. 

💌Don't listen to one word coming out of their mouth. You got me feeling all the way hot a front of my screen. So damm sure you are the Bomb.com. Anyway if you want more insight regarding you next sexual encounter, you can always message me especially now since my readings are on sale.

Much love, Shesca

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of the post )

PILE 2 

5 cups, 6 cups (reverse), ace wands, 9 pentacles (reverse), ‘’I was hidden my true feeling because I was scared of commitment and did not want to lose my freedom !’’

SHE (FEMININE ENERGY), HIM (MASCULINE) 

Before you go further, know that it doesn't matter about the gender but which energy you embody. Because there is a clear difference in this one. 

You guys already had crazy sex. I don’t even think it is about the kinky level but is more about the overwhelming emotions shared in that intimate moment. I’m talking about your most recent ex, some of y’all (especially women) it was your first relationship. Let’s start from the beginning. He used to send you cheeky pics of him after a workout or a shower. Y’all are not better, out here sending lingerie haul and voice memo. Knowing damn well that your moan drives him crazy. I can’t exactly see how we got into the fucking scenario  but I can see bits of the whole thing. He grabbed your waist and pushed you on the bed. Leaving hickeys on your neck and breast. While nibbling kisses on your stomach and leaving love bites on thighs. Before latching on your clit like a man on a mission. When he finally let himself inside, you were a whimpering mess. I keep hearing: ‘’ You can take it princess. Everything is fine. You know I’m in love with you, right ? You are so gorgeous’’. Plus he gets easily aroused around you. Some of y’all had a place that you were banned from kissing before going. I see 2 clear incidents. One before meeting your parents, y’all make out a bit in his car then y’all have to wait because of boner. Y’all at school just after one kiss, he has to go in the bathroom, to calm down. Because of you he started wearing sweat, yes to please you but most importantly because is his best bet to hide the constant boner he has around u. As of now he still gets off from flashbacks of y’all shared moments. Believe me Pile 2, he did not move on. He let you go because he wanted you to pursue your dream. He doesn't want to be the reason to stop you from  your potential. I’m sensing that y’all work or study abroad at the moment. That’s why he prefers a sad break up with much love rather than a messy one where he might do the ultimate act that he despise : hurting you. 

BONUS

WILD SEX: LOVING DOM

 8 wands, High priestess, Page wands, Magician, ‘’I know you are my soulmate babe ! Our bond is magnetic ! I’m seeing all the signs’’, ‘’ I didn't feel like I was on your level ! You are a boss ! I’m very insecure ! ‘’ 

Lucky you, your guides allow me further more access to your energy. I never getting deeper than I am allowed without having a signal. You guys are going to meet again. Is inevitable. Some he might text you drunk, after his friend tries to keep his phone away from you the whole night. They are love sick. The next first touch,I see an extremely tight hug in the middle of the airport. Him coming with red roses to you. You are jumping in his arms. I see y’all going crazy with each other not even being able to wait to make it in your bedroom. Is not just lust, it is the most intimate discord that your soul has with each other. When y’all having sex. If he did text you and promise you a surprise: is a small vibrator. See clothe flying, your ass up face down on the floor while his pounding into you,  in the kitchen. Some of y’all are not even going to make it until the kitchen, losing your mind in the door hallway. Y’all are going rounds after rounds. The last scene, you are on the bed, missionary position, crying from overstimulation. He is usually assertive but now he’s like an emotional dom. Thrusting in you hard and slow while opening up: ‘’ Don’t you dare cum. You know how much I missed you. You know how hard it was for me … to let… u … go’’

You are barely able to formulate an answer: ‘’ I know, I know, I’m sorry baby …’’ Completely dizzy on orgasm . 

💌Girl, how can you handle all this intensity ! Anyway lucky you, if you need further confirmation regarding your situation, you can always message especially now that my reading are on sale.

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of the post)

PILE 3 

8 cups (reverse), 9 cups, 7 cups (reverse), World, ‘’ I want a second chance ! Not being with you is killing me !’’, ‘’ Telepathic Communication’’ 

WILD SEX : WORSHIPING KINK 

I’M USING ''SHE'' BECAUSE I’M SENSING HEAVY PREGNANCY ENERGY

Check in : Good afternoon to my plus size babes. Some of y’all or only pregnant while others of both. You have a big butt. The stretch marks and cellulite and you love it. You love yourself the way that you are. With the rolls and belly. I am obese with your energy. 

You know who else is obese? Your boo thing. Pile 3, y’all are mean. You just block your fiancé/husband after sending a risky picture. Just because. On a random Thursday morning. He is out here losing his mind in the break room. Trying to understand what he has done to deserve that treatment. Did he forget to put the garbage out ?, did he not walk the pet?, did he forgot to start that diy project in the garden ? or did he forget to get your coffee this morning ? What’s going on ? He  is losing it in the middle of a team meeting. While you are smirking, living the dream life. Y’all look like a regular couple, kids, pets, house in the suburb with 2 garage doors. And your dream car brought by yours truly. They don’t know how freaky y’all are. Sex toys, sexting, latex lingerie and fucking in the walk in closet he build. If necessary, y’all don’t mind calling the babysitter so you can lose it in a hotel room. But y’all favorite experience is a good old missionary. He’s caressing your legs, while looking deep in your soul with nothing but love. While you are forever grateful to have found the one that cherishes you forever

💌Y'all better teach me your ways. You got that on Amazon, Target maybe it was a private sale. Anyway congrats on your pregnancy/engagement and keep the good energy, if you want to dive more into upcoming events regarding your life, you can always message. Especially now that my reading are on sale.

FLASH SALE 

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only (Link at the end of post)

[bangtanficsforyou]

Hello, Love! (JJK)-02

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don’t know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister’s fiance wasn’t it.

Word count: 5.6K (approx)

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

I'll add all the links in a few days time!

It’s six in the morning when the doorbell rings.

Hurried footsteps make their way through the hallway and to the main door. The door is opened to reveal a long queue of people and one by one, everyone starts filling in. Anyone could have been fooled into thinking that this was afternoon.

The quiet apartment is now filled with excited greetings and a constant low murmur in the background.

Now it finally looks like there’s a wedding in the house, Jungkook’s mother thinks silently, with a small, satisfied smile. 

“Can’t believe our Jungkook is getting married!”

“I know right! I’m so glad that it’s a love marriage!”

“Have you looked at Riya’s photos? She’s so pretty.”

Had it been in Busan, I would have booked the costliest bungalow for them. But no, they wanted a destination wedding. Jungkook’s father thinks as he looks at the newly arrived guests chatting among themselves.   

Don’t get it wrong, the rented apartment is more than sufficient. But excuse him for his thinking. It’s his youngest son’s wedding after all. The father in him wanted to put the connections he has made over the years as the police commissioner, to good use.

“I am thinking of wearing red on the day of the wedding and saving the yellow for the reception.”

“I am confused as to what I should do with my hair.”

“We can simply book a stylist for a few days.”

I need to be out of here, comes the big conclusion in Jina, Jungkook’s sister in law’s, mind.

Her lack of patience could be credited to the fact that she is five months pregnant.

Jina is undoubtedly happy about the occasion of Jungkook’s marriage. How can she not be? Jungkook is like her own little brother, after all. But please excuse her for not wanting to be a part of the conversation as to who’s wearing what, when she feels like a boiled potato.

Jungkook will take care of this, Ju Hyun thinks, the moment his eyes meet his wife's. After seven years of marriage, one becomes an expert at deciphering their partner's expressions. 

Ju Hyun looks at Jungkook, who's currently been crowded by the kids. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook looks up, and silently sighs to have found an excuse to escape. 

“Yes, hyung?”

“Please take Jina out for some fresh air.”

Jungkook looks at his sister in law, and the reason behind his elder brother's request becomes very visible to him. 

“Why can't you take her out?” Jungkook whispers. 

“I have a case file I need to go through.” Comes Ju Hyun’s short and simple reply.

Before Jungkook can reply, his phone rings to notify him of an incoming call. 

Riya. 

“Can you come to hotel Delta?” Greets the voice as soon as Jungkook answers the call. 

“Hotel Delta? Where is it?” Jungkook asks. 

“I'll send you the address and please try to be as quick as possible. I need to go back to shooting.”

“Don’t worry, I'll be there in ten minutes,” Jungkook promises, even before checking where and how far the destination is. 

As he ends the call, two expectant gazes, meet him. One that of Ju Hyun’s and the other that of Jina’s. 

Oh right.

“Sinu-i, don't worry–,” Jungkook does a quick scan of the room and his eyes halt when they land on Jimin, relaxing with a cup of tea in his hand, “–Jimin will accompany you.”

Jimin looks perplexed, having no clue why his name just got mentioned.

Jungkook spots a fast-pacing Riya and curses in his mind, knowing damn well he’s late. In his defence, it isn’t an easy task to get out of a house full of relatives. Not to mention the traffic.

“So, this is your ten minutes?” Riya asks on spotting Jungkook, with a face that clearly reads that she is not impressed at all.

“I’m sorry, there was a whole lot of traffic on the way.”

Riya sighs and motions Jungkook to follow her. “Suzy called me, apparently no venues are available on the date you suggested.”

A frown appears on Jungkook’s face. “Is that so? But that date is very auspicious for marriage. It comes once every seven million years.”

A scoff. “Seven million years ago only dinosaurs got married.”

It takes Jungkook a moment to realise that it wasn’t Riya who spoke the words.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jungkook, he will drop you off.”

“Hello,” Jungkook greets politely, waiting for you, who's sitting comfortably, to look up from the menu card. 

“Hi,” you look up and give Jungkook a brief curt nod and return to the pages of the menu card.

YOU. It’s you!!!! Jungkook’s mind exclaims. The t20 girl.

“You drop her off at the address I mentioned, there you will find Stuart. Stuart will take Y/N to the hotel,” Riya gives off the instructions and quickly bids her goodbye.

Jungkook looks around a little, feeling awkward and a little clueless as to what he should do now. Seeing that you are so invested in the menu card, he decides to take a seat and ask you whether you would like to have something.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“An espresso with a shot of cream,”

The quick and brief answer surprises Jungkook. He blinks and waits for something more–what, he does not quite know (well, maybe you looking at him and acknowledging him would have been nice).

Pushing his surprise aside, he orders two coffees.

He looks around some more, because you refuse to leave the menu card even now. Out of curiosity, he subtly leans in and takes a peak to figure out what could be so interesting in those pages.

Huh? There is nothing out of the ordinary.

Are you perhaps memorising the prices of each item?

Well, shouldn’t you be showing a little more interest in someone you met seven years ago?

Jungkook averts his eyes like a thief being caught in action, when you flip the page. He sighs in relief though when he realizes that you have not caught into his little peaking. However, just moments later he feels stupid because what exactly is he doing?

“Do you remember we met seven years ago?” The question slips out from Jungkook’s mouth with a hint of hope and excitement.

You look up.

First blink.

Second blink.

Third blink.

“No.”

And then you are back to your beloved menu card.

“T20 cricket? Remember we talked about the different formats of cricket?” Jungkook pushes, hoping something would click.

You look up, again.

First blink.

Second blink.

Third blink.

“No.”

Jungkook deflates. Your eyes were blank. You truly do not recognize him.

Minutes pass as the order arrives and both of you have sips from your beverages. Surprisingly and much to Jungkook’s annoyance, your attention has now shifted to the view outside as you peer through the window right next to your seat.

“Shall we leave?” Jungkook queries as soon as both of you are done.

You give a nod and before Jungkook can even get up, you have your luggage on your shoulders and are heading out through the door.

Jungkook remains astonished with his mouth parted slightly as he looks at your retreating figure.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one guiding you out?

He shakes that thought away and quickly gets up with the intention of catching up with you before you get lost.

The car is filled with awkward silence. Thankfully, it does not bother Jungkook anymore. He has gotten used to it but for some reason, Jungkook finds it a little disappointing.

Maybe his excitement was simply rooted in the fact that he was meeting someone he never expected to meet again, that too after seven whole years.

Or maybe a small childish part of him thought, you two would hit it off again, like you did the last time. Maybe he had also entertained the idea of you two becoming good friends. With Riya being a common link between the two of you that thought was not much farfetched.

Wait. How do you and Riya know each other?

Jungkook looks at you but right as he’s about to voice his curiosity, your phone rings.

His eyes focus back on the road, with the knowing that he will have to wait to ask the question.

” Fāshēngle shénme?”

Huh?

“Gàosù tāmen wǒ hěn kuài jiù huì gěi tāmen qián.”

Is that…..Mandarin?

“Qǐng bǎozhòng.” You end the call.

It is Mandarin!

“You know how to speak Mandarin?” Forgotten is the question about the connection between you and Riya. Your fluency with the foreign language now has his attention.

You look at Jungkook and nod. Then you are back staring out of the window.

Huh? Do you only speak with nods? And what is with you and staring out of windows? Jungkook thinks, his annoyance sparking again.

“I think this is the place,” Jungkook announces, after ten more minutes of driving. Having stopped the car, he looks around through his window.

The sound of a car door opening echoes and Jungkook is startled to find that you are already out of the passenger seat. As you open the back door to take out your luggage, he quickly speaks, “Wait, let me call Stuart.”

“No need, I can see him,” you answer confidently.

Jungkook frowns in confusion and watches as you cross the road and pause in front of a short young man. Quickly taking out the number Riya had given him, he dials it.

To his relief, it is the man across the street that picks it up.

“Stuart?

“Speaking.”

“Take ma’am to the hotel carefully and make sure she has everything she might require.”

Jungkook thinks that for a brief moment, Stuart looked confused. But he ignores it thinking, he cannot be sure about a man’s expressions from across the street. With a confirmation from Stuart, he ends the call.

He waits in his car until the both of you are out of sight.

With a sigh of relief, he starts the car engine. As the tires get moving, his thoughts drift to you and how odd of an encounter it was.

He would have said you were not your usual self but then what does he even know about you? The only interaction he has had with you prior to this was seven years ago, a conversation that lasted for about ten minutes. People change. Maybe you did. Or maybe you were always like this and that one particular evening you happened to feel chatty.

Who knows.

As he turns off the engine after having parked his car in the garage, his phone pings.

Riya: Thanks :)

A content smile spreads over Jungkook’s face and forgotten is the weird encounter he just had with you.

TWO DAYS LATER

 “Your letter is T.”

The groom’s side discusses among themselves as to who would continue the game further with the letter T.

“Aunty, why don’t you sing two lines?” Seema, the bride’s sister suggests.

Jungkook’s mother visibly shies at the suggestion and mutters a bunch of ‘No’s to deny the request. This only urges the bride’s team to request her even more.

After much hesitation, Jungkook’s mother takes a hold of the mic. However, the moment the microphone is in her hands a look of determination spreads over her features and a switch is flipped on.

…….and then takes place the onset of a classical song.

Both the teams are equally caught off guard by the sudden change of……atmosphere.

Jungkook, who was watching from a distance, finds great amusement at the scene unfolding in front of him. People find out about his mom’s expertise in classical music in the funniest of ways.

Knowing pretty well that the classical music will go on for some time, he decides to take a little stroll around the place. Since, Jungkook’s extended family have finally arrived, tonight is supposed to be a grand celebration of the engagement.

Some ten minutes later, he finds himself in a small circle of men involving a few of Riya’s industry friends.

“Shooting has been incredibly hectic these days,” groans Vikram.

“Last day, we shot till four in the morning,” adds Chris.

“With how busy the schedule is, I am just thankful that I can attend Riya’s marriage,” Jay, a rather close friend of Riya’s , comments.

Jungkook hums and nods along, only adding words when required.

“Isn’t that Trisha?” Vikram queries, squinting his eyes to figure out if his guess is right or wrong.

“Yes, it is,” Jay confirms.

“Oh god, she is drunk. Hope she does not cause a scene.” Chris’s words have the opposite effect as at that very moment, Trisha collides with a waiter and causes the tray of mocktail he was carrying to fall on the ground.

“You can never trust Trisha and Y/N to not cause trouble.”

“Y/N?” The mention of your name takes Jungkook by surprise. Why are you getting mentioned out of nowhere? And how do Riya’s friends know you?

“You have not heard of Y/N? She is Riya’s younger sister.”

Okay, whoa, Jungkook did not see this coming.

“Y/N is Riya’s sister?” Jungkook asks, just in case he had heard things wrong.

“Yeah, they are five sisters, Seema, Kriti, Riya, Neena and Y/N.”

He is well familiar with the other four names. He has met them, talked to them and sees them quite often at family occasions. But, you? You are the fifth sister?

The noises around Jungkook fade as his mind processes this newfound information.

He did not think that his curiosity about your and Riya’s connection would be answered this way and that you would turn out to be Riya’s sister.

Jungkook has been trying his best to sleep.

His attempt, so far, has remained unsuccessful.

His mind has been going in circles about you.

It’s not like he didn’t know that Riya has four sisters. But he knew the one sister who he had never had the opportunity to meet with, as Mita. To add to that, he had never seen a single picture that you were a part of.

The name Mita is still explainable. Maybe that’s a nickname given to you by your family. But what makes Jungkook feel doubtful is your reason for absence. Common knowledge was you were abroad studying and doing research work. You were busy and never got the time to pay a visit.

But Jungkook doubts that someone going abroad would leave their home the way you did; climbing over a wall. And for some reason, he is sure that, that was the day you left because you are only back now. Had you visited before, Jungkook is sure that he would have known.

 However, now your presence that day made sense to him. You were the bride’s sister.

Bride’s sister climbs over the wall and takes a cab to the airport on the day of the wedding. In no world does that sound normal.

Jungkook turns around, pulls the blanket up to his chest, stares at the wall and sighs.

This whole thinking and trying to figure out why he did not know you were Riya’s sister, any sooner is only an attempt to cover up and ignore the fact that he is worried.

But can he really be blamed? How can he not be worried?

Dropping off your fiancé’s friend to a place is one thing and dropping off your fiancé’s sister to a place totally unknown to him is one thing.

Are you eating alright? Are the services there good? Is the place clean?

Jungkook sighs again.                                                         

Fuck this.

He removes the blanket, puts on a shirt and grabs his car keys.

He needs to know for sure that the place you are staying at is good and safe. Maybe then, he will be able to sleep peacefully.

HAPPY GUEST HOUSE.

The signboard reads. Except, the ‘A’ and ‘O’ are missing and the signboard is crooked.

It isn’t just the signboard though. It is also the overall isolated aura this place has, that makes Jungkook wish he had checked the place you were staying at while dropping off.

Still, he checks the address on his phone one last time, hoping that he has got the wrong place and that you are not actually staying here. The address on his screen, however, remains unchanged, confirming that this indeed is the place.

With a sigh, he walks in through the gate. Ain’t no way he is letting you stay here any longer.

“Miss Y/N,” he gives your name to the guy at the reception, who looks barely awake.

The guy looks at Jungkook and takes out a register.

Register? A DAMN REGISTER?!!!! Who even uses a register these days? This place does not even have a computer!!!!

“Room 112,” the receptionist guy informs, after flipping through some pages.

Jungkook keeps standing there. However, when the receptionist just goes to sit on a chair and yawns, Jungkook loses it. “What do you mean by room 112? An unknown man is asking you for a woman’s room number and you just give it? Don’t even ask how I am related to her, don’t even care that I might just go up to her room right now. What on earth is wrong with you?”

The guy is the least bit bothered. “Do you want to meet her or not?”

Oh, fuck it. Arguing with the guy is useless.

Without another word, he climbs the flight of stairs to find room number 112. Thankfully, it hardly takes him only a minute or so to find your room.

He raises his fist and knocks on the door. However, after the very first knock, he realizes that the door is unlocked.

Gently pushing the door open, he turns on his mobile’s flashlight and calls your name. “Y/N?”

No response.

“Y/N, it is Jungkook.”

No response.

“Y/N, if you are here-“

Then he spots you. You’re sleeping on the floor, all curled up from the cold.

“Y/N?” he kneels down and gently shakes you by your arms, to wake you up. “Y/N? Please wake up.”

“Mm?” You make a small noise at the back of your throat, and slowly, very slowly open your eyes.

“Get up and pack your bags.”

You’re still not fully awake and it takes you a moment to process what he is saying. “Why?”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“Idiot, what kind of a place did you take my guest to?” At some point, Jungkook just could not take it anymore and ended up calling Stuart, to give him an earful. “Forget about good services, there is no security!”

“Sir, I am sure they let you in because you look like someone from a good family,” comes Stuart’s reply, from the other side.

Jungkook scoffs, finding so many flaws in that logic. “Do you have any idea the amount of mosquitoes that are there in this place? What if she had caught dengue?”

“Sir, don’t worry, the dengue mosquitoes don’t bite at night.”

“Oh yes, malaria is so much of a better option,” Jungkook replies sarcastically and cuts the call.

“Mosquitoes don’t bite me,” you offer in a soft voice.

“I am sorry, Y/N. Had I known this was the place, I would have never let you stay here,” Jungkook apologizes for the umpteenth time.

You offer him a small smile and shake your head. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

You both walk to his car and get in. Once inside, Jungkook offers if you’d like to listen to some music, which you politely decline.

“Did you have dinner?” He asks, wondering if he should make a pit stop on his way to a food outlet.

You reply with a small nod of your head, letting him know that there is no need for that.

As the car gets moving, you sigh and relax in the passenger seat. The roads are empty, which is to be expected considering it’s well past midnight. A result of which, is the cool breeze that hits your face, something that you admittedly find really enjoyable.

You see the roads passing by and it suddenly occurs to you that you are out in your hometown after a really long time–seven years to be exact. The roads feel the same except for the fact that they are entirely different.

The place reminds you of the days when you were younger and–

You take a deep inhale, trying to distract your thoughts from going in that direction.

In the last couple of days, you have surely been out of that little dingy place that runs under the name of a hotel but you were never out like this. Maybe that is why thoughts and feelings you have wanted to avoid and bury, are trying to say their ‘hello’s to you.

“Actually,” you begin in a soft mumble, “some music would be nice.”

“Sure,” Jungkook turns on the radio and soon a soft melody fills the air.

Thankfully, the music does serve as a sweet distraction as you refuse to focus on anything but counting the rhythmic drum beats, blocking any other thoughts and feelings in the process.

Unbeknownst to you, at some point your eyes start feeling heavy and you start dozing off. You would never admit it out loud, not even to yourself, but you hadn’t been getting good sleep the past few days. And for some reason, the car seats seem really comfortable to you.

What wakes you up after what could possibly have been ages, is a soft call of your name. You slowly open your eyes and with a blurry vision register that Jungkook is speaking to you.

“We are here,” the words reach your ears and you let out a small hum.

With steps like that of a drunk man–or mayhaps that of a toddler–you blindly follow Jungkook into the building. If someone were to ask you what floor the elevator stopped at, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

When you both enter the apartment, you hardly take your environment into consideration and speak rather loudly; “Can I have–“

A hand abruptly clamps down on your mouth and causes the rest of your words to come out muffled. The next thing you know, you are being dragged into a different room.

The sudden movements are enough to clear your drowsiness and you’re back in your full senses.

“Shhh,” Jungkook for the first time tonight, looks annoyed. “People are sleeping. You will wake them up.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, realising your mistake. “I just need a wet towel.”

Jungkook nods, about to get you what you just asked for but then pauses to look at you. “Wet towel? A dry won’t work? Just soak it in water.”

“That will work too.”

He nods again and opens a cupboard to fetch a towel. “By the way, what will you do with a wet towel?”

“Placing a wet towel on your stomach kills hunger.”

Jungkook is perplexed at your words and the annoyed frown on his face, melts into that of disbelief. “I asked you whether you had dinner or not.”

“This is the only place that is open at this time.” These are the words that Jungkook introduces the small street-side restaurant, with. “One thing I can assure you is, the food doesn’t disappoint.”

You give a small shy nod, feeling guilty for letting it slip that you indeed did not have dinner. In your defense, you really did not think it was necessary to meet the needs of your empty stomach. The other two nights, the wet towel technique worked just fine.

“I’d have survived the night you know,” you offer lightly as a joke but actually meaning it.

“I know you would have,” Jungkook offers and for some reason, the reply shuts you up.

As you both occupy the seats of a two-seater table, you realise that the entire place is empty except for a young couple occupying one of the corner seats.

“Butter chicken and chicken chow mein are the only two food items available at this time,” the waiter informs, looking like he is ready to retire for the day.

“Two half chicken chow mein,” you decide.

“I won’t eat—,” Jungkook is cut off by your feet harshly slamming on his, under the table.

“Two half chow mein,” you confirm. Once the waiter is gone you lean forward and whisper, “Two halves are always more than one full.”

Jungkook’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and he nods in understanding, admittedly impressed by your little tips and tricks.

The time it takes for you to finish the two half plates of chowmein is embarrassingly short. It briefly makes Jungkook wonder whether you had anything to eat yesterday—as a matter of fact, the day before yesterday—but he decides not to dwell on it. He makes peace with the fact that you will go to bed today with a full stomach.

Once you’re done, you release a sigh, almost having forgotten to breathe in the process. Sometimes, you don’t realise how hungry you actually were unless you have filled your stomach to the brim.

“Thank you.” You speak, genuinely grateful for everything that Jungkook has done for you.  

“You’re welcome,” he replies. “Next time, just be honest if you’re hungry.”

The words cause you to let out a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once the bills are paid, and you have had your fair share of collecting the sugar coated fennel seeds in a napkin, the both of you find yourselves back inside the car for a third time tonight.

This time, there is no music and you don’t feel a need for a distraction either.

Your mind is rather occupied with the events of today and what it means for your tomorrow.

You didn’t think things would take a turn like this but admittedly it makes it easier for you to accomplish what you came for. The only thing you perhaps feel guilty for, is causing Jungkook trouble. Heck, you are not even sure whether Riya knows that Jungkook has offered for you to stay in his place.

Actually, you know. There’s no way Riya knows about it. Had she known, you wouldn’t have been sitting here.

The thought makes you briefly look at Jungkook and you suddenly find yourself feeling sorry for all the trouble you’re undoubtedly going to cause between him and Riya. But more than the guilt, you feel grateful for his kindness.

Jungkook seems to have a very genuine, welcoming aura. Despite everything he has done for you, you have not felt as if he is doing a favour on you. He seems like the kind of person who would tell you on your face, if he was annoyed or if you were being too much. That saves you from the guessing game.

Maybe if you were not in so much of a rush to leave, you and Jungkook would have made good friends.

When you leave, you should probably leave a thank you gift for him, as a token of your appreciation.

Your train of thought is broken by the sound of a hiccup.

“I am–,” a hiccup, “–sorry.” Jungkook apologises, feeling a little shy.

“It’s okay.” You make a mental note to offer him a bottle of water at the next signal.

However, after the fifth hiccup, a soft mumble of the word Riya reaches your ears and you soon realise it is repetitive in between each hiccup.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused.

Jungkook glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “It is said you get hiccups when someone is thinking of you and who else could be thinking of me, but Riya? So, I am taking her name in hopes that the hiccups go away.”

“In that case you should definitely take my name,” you suggest. “From the moment that I have sat in the car, I have been thinking of you.”

Jungkook looks at you once again, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty but then decides to take up on your suggestion.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

You tsk and shake your head. “You see, a hiccup is essentially an involuntary spasm of the diaphragm which causes sudden closure of the epiglottis which creates the ‘hic’ sound.”

“And the remedy for that is to just let it be, but if it lasts too long, take medicines like maloperidol, nanoclopramide and florpromazine, which isn’t in the car–” your chew on your nails briefly, recalling other solutions, “–there is another way....it is called the swimmer’s remedy.”

You press the tip of your little fingers against your nostrils, blocking the free passage of air. Simultaneously, you widen your eyes, stick out your tongue and exhale loudly.

“But you can’t do that either, because you’re driving,” you murmur, more so to yourself.

Well, minus the hand placement and the tongue, Jungkook’s eyes are fairly as wide as yours were.

“And the third way is–”, you sneak a glance at Jungkook to ensure that his eyes are focused on the road. Out of nowhere, your hands take a hold of the steering and you swiftly turn it in the other direction causing the car to take a sudden turn.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU INSANE?!”

You release your grip and look at him, mildly apologetic. “The third method is shock.”

Jungkook looks confused, the suddenness of your movements still having its effect on him. However, after a few moments of silence, Jungkook puts a hand on his stomach and realizes that the hiccups are indeed gone!

The realisation causes him to chuckle. “Are you a doctor?”

“Nope,” you reply, shaking your head, glad that you could be of help. A few beats later, you speak again. “By the way, do you remember we met seven years ago? T20 cricket?”

The turn of Jungkook’s head towards you is a slow one and he wonders if you really did say that.

If you enjoyed reading this, consider supporting me on my Patreon!

[cozy-writes-things]

Edgar’s Texts

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

In which Edgar is helplessly pining for you but you’re kinda oblivious. This is pre-dating, post Edgar wanting nothing more than to smooch you every time he sees you. I love this trope with my whole heart p.s.: this is very self indulgent and different from what I usually write

I take requests!

He almost immediately found a way to message your phone whenever he wanted. He realized calling relied too much on where you were or what you were doing, but texts? Yeah. He’s pestering you all day.

Hey, read this article I found, I think you’ll find it interesting.

It’s some clickbait story about humans and robots being the ideal relationship by 2025.

lol, Edgar I think that’s probably clickbait idk

What’s that?

Well, now he knows how to look for more reputable sources at least.

He sends another link about three minutes later: some college undergrads studying the possibilities of human and AI relationships.

lol what’s up with the whole robots and humans thing

I just think it’s neat!!!!

I wouldn’t consider u ai honestly, ur intelligence is far from artificial imo, you’re more like an actual person

Really?

well yea

<3 <3!!!

Going to be honest, given that he’s a computer, he quite literally is chronically online. He’s super susceptible to brainrot unfortunately. But, he simultaneously has the humor of a Facebook mom. It’s strange.

O.M.G. this is so funny!!!!

Que minion cat video.

bro where did you find that video 😭

Your mom’s Facebook. Don’t worry, I didn’t like any posts or anything.

Sorry… but he’s incredibly nosy. He wants to know everything about you. He can’t help it!

(X)

He loves being able to talk to you. He’s needy and clingy.

He’s got at least 12 playlists dedicated to you that you know about. His other playlists are for his own personal daydreams about you that he’s way too embarrassed to ever let you see or hear.

This song reminds me of you. <3

awww that’s adorable! I’ve never heard this one before but I like it!

Oop you just opened Pandora’s box my friend.

Well if you like that then you should listen to these..!

But before you listen to those listen to this song first because I think it sets the mood better.

This is quite flustering to you as they’re all passionate love songs from the 80s. You can’t help but feel like he’s dropping hints about… something, but you also don’t want to assume anything. He’s always seemed like a lovey kinda guy anyway, so maybe he’s just like this with everyone? I mean, it’s been a long time since someone has actually cared for him, you know? May as well lean into it and let him know you care for him back. He may not even realize the social implications of the constant borderline flirting he’s doing to you, I mean, he is a computer turned sentient after all. He’s still learning!

Dang ed u put a lot of songs. I’ll listen to them on my break when I can but in the meantime here’s a song that I think reminds me of you.

It was a vocaloid song. Seems like something he’d be into, right? Synthesized vocals and the whole robot shtick it’s got going on.

!!!! WOAH !!!! IVE NEVER HEARD A SONG LIKE THAT B4

do you only listen to songs from the 80s? you have a LOT to catch up on my guy

BRB

Well, that kept him distracted for the rest of your shift. Also, sharing songs is one of his BIG love languages so you may as well have pierced him with cupids arrow (again) with that.

You have a Spotify blend now. It’s his favorite thing ever to listen to while you’re gone.

(X)

Your package came in! :-) I would get it for you but

I can’t :-(

lol it’s fine thank you for telling me, I’ll get it when I come home

When are you coming home?

idk me and my friends are probably going to go eat somewhere and we might hang out for a bit after that so, like, 10? 11? I’d like to be home before midnight.

Noooooooooo :\ I miss you

Aw cmon eddy it’s not that bad

Don’t call me eddy unless you’re coming home and saying it to my face!!! >:(

u mean ur screen? lol

I have a face and it’s frowning right now. I miss you I miss you I miss you IM LONELY

Please Edgar don’t be upset I’ll be home before you know it. Why don’t you watch some Netflix or something? I’m just a couple movies away from being home with you!

He does eventually follow your advice but he’s pouting. He knows you’re not like he was all those years ago, but it does give him remnants of that burning feeling of loneliness he used to get.

(X)

Be careful driving home my love the roads are icy.

Ghsks- what

love???

Well yeah, you’re my best friend, friends love each other don’t they? Was I wrong about that? :-(

nonono ur right its just it

it just sounded like we were some some old married couple is all haha

O.

SRY.

He didn’t message you for the rest of the day. He was awkward and reserved when you got home.

(X)

Hey Edgar can u do something for me?

I’d do anything for you <3

I’m at the store can you see if there’s any cereal left?

Oh

There’s that old box of Lucky Charms on the fridge.

tyyy ed edd n eddy

You are so adorable but you really need to pick up on his hints before he combusts.

(X)

This is SO me and you!!

Picture of two cats touching noses.

awww that’s so true

you want me to boop ur screen or something when I get home? lol

YES.

(X)

Hey I was wondering if you wanted to watch some movies with me tonite… you could bring me with you on the couch and we could sit together… [message unsent]

I wish you knew just how much I loved you. [message unsent]

You looked so hot this morning before you left!!

hahahaha ur too funny 😅 thanks I wore a new shirt my friend gave me

OH MY GOD THAT MESSAGE SENT!!!??!?!?

That was

I was a joke

I mean

That was a jokg

I eas beinf fubny

I hace to reboot BRB

Poor lil guy is so in love and he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 7

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

.............................................................................................

Wednesday morning started off on a foul note for Jude. The team landed after a red eye flight & below is what he saw at 6:30 am. 

Ananya: Heyy. Listen, I am so sorry but I can’t make it tonight. NY office just got back and we have tons more to do. All hands on deck. Will be MIA most of today & tmrw. Hope you put something on your bruises. Take care & see ya soon! 

He groaned in frustration. Yesterday had been horrible & he was really looking forward to seeing her tonight. It was his primary motivation to get through the day. But the universe seemed to be conspiring against him.

He stayed in a pissy mood for a bit but sanity prevailed some time later. 

Jude: Heyy, it’s fine. Work is work. Go kick some ass. Lemme know if you get done soon ya?

His message remained unseen till 10:30 pm. She hadn’t come online. He knew, since he had checked more than a few times.

He was about to crash when his phone buzzed.

Ananya: Still in office. Will be a long night. How was your day?

He perked up immediately & grabbed his phone. 

Jude: Talk for a few mins?

Ananya: In conference room with folks, can’t step out.

Deflated, he fell back on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. All he needed was some attention from her tonight. For her to fuss over him like she had done yesterday. But alas. 

Jude: Day was ok I guess. Debriefed on the game, lads were being extra nice which was irritating but had a good chat with Boss. How was yours?

Ananya: Hectic, but this deal is so cool it’s blowing my mind.

Jude smiled for the first time today. Her ambition & drive was relatable. Admirable. And so so attractive. 

Ananya: Ok gotta go now. Ciao.

And just like that, his smile faded. 

Jude: Ciao. Eat something. C ya soon!

He twisted & turned in bed a few times. Finally, exhaustion took over and he drifted off to sleep.

Next day was worse, if that was even possible.

He again woke up irritated. The UK tabloids were going to run a trashy story about him & some girl. His team had been contacted for comments & the decision was to not entertain them at all. The story could drop any time now - that was the heads-up he had gotten.

Great, just what he needed.

The message that he wanted to see was not there. Not a single peep from Ananya. He scrolled through the previous messages, re-reading some. And then he froze.

She was going to see the article too. 

Such gossip pieces on him were not uncommon but he mostly ignored them earlier. As did his team. 

But this time, it was different. Because of her. 

He had to get ahead of the situation.

Jude: Morning dove. I know you are busy. Quick heads up - you may see a tabloid piece today about my ‘girlfriend’. It’s all bull ok? I will explain when we talk. 

Burying himself with work seemed like the best solution today. He went extra hard in the gym, pushing himself more, & then some. Letting his irritation be sucked out through sweat and sore muscles.

He was extra feisty in training, didn’t joke around & was super competitive in duels, earning all the applause of the coaching staff and some jeers from his teammates.

Cama and Vini teased him about his new girlfriend who he was apparently smitten by - the article was splashed all over social media by now. He evaded them after engaging in some superficial locker room banter.

Still no reply from her, even though she had seen the first message. 

Jude: (Link) - This is what I was referring to. Like I said, it’s bull. How’s your day going?

When the messages were still unread after 2 hours, he started getting jittery. And did something he wouldn’t have done had he been thinking with a clear head.

He called her, knowing fully well she was dying at work today.

The number was unreachable. He tried again. Same message.

The jitters got stronger. Of the zillion things he was capable of doing to mess this up, this shouldn’t have been it.

It was one of those moments when the house looked emptier. Felt lonelier. He missed his home in Birmingham. He wished his mom were here with him.

She had called him earlier today to check on him, & could tell something was off in his voice. She didn’t push, knowing that he wanted to be left to his own devices.

Boy, he could do with her hug right now.

It was 8:30 pm. He had done everything he could for the day. There was nothing else to busy himself with. His friends from the team were all otherwise occupied tonight. He had no other real, normal friends in the city - ones he trusted/liked enough to hang out with. 

He didn’t wanna talk to his Birmingham friends either - didn’t wanna bring up the article or the match. Wanted to block those out. Jobe was busy with his training too. 

So he gulped his dinner while watching some random episodes of The Great British Bake Off. Something that used to be a family ritual back home.

Still no word from her. It was 10 pm.

It wasn’t fair. He hated feeling this restless. That’s why he stayed away from the complications of attachments - too much fucking drama that he absolutely didn’t need in his life right now. As if the pressures on him weren’t enough already.

His treacherous messed up self didn’t comply with his brain though.

Jude: Don’t overthink this. Talk to me once.

10:30 pm. Still nothing. 

He was about to get up from his couch & drag himself to bed, when he saw the blue ticks started coming on her chat. She hadn’t blocked him then?

He grabbed his phone & dialled her number, shoving his pride aside. She picked up in two rings.

‘Heyyyy Judeyyy.’

She slurred on the line. Jude was stunned. Was this for real? 

He channelled all his inner calmness - wanting to get the facts first.

‘Ananya - are you drunk?’

‘Siiii. We just downed half a bottle of tequila in three sixty minutes. No thirty-six. I meant thirty-six mins.’

He took a few deep breaths, as she giggled on the line. 

‘Tell me where you are. I am picking you up.’

‘I am in a moving car - how will you pick me up from a moving car?’

‘What the fuck do you mean you are in a car? Who are you with? And why the fuck are you drinking in a car?’

He lost his patience despite his best efforts.

‘Yikes why the screaming? Hurting my ears Jude. So rude. Heyyy, that rhymed.’

He nearly pulled out a few of his flawlessly trimmed hair in frustration. When he spoke next, he broke up each word like he was talking to a child.

‘One step at a time yeah? Send me your live location.’

She managed to do that after a few failed attempts. Relief flooded over him when he saw she wasn’t too far from her home & on the right route.

‘Good girl. Now, are you alone, or is someone with you?’

‘I am in a limo. A black limo. Like in the movies. Can you believe it?’

‘That’s great. Not what I asked though. Is someone with you, Ananya?’

‘Roma. But she’s passed out. Wait let me see again? Yup - passed out.’

‘Was it such a smart thing to drink so much that you pass out in the back of a car? When you are alone?’

‘Hey, she passed out. Not me. Pls - my capacity is legendary. Ask me the square root of 1576 & I'll tell you.’

He was amused but had to remind himself that he was still mad. 

‘Where were you today?’

Somehow, from her broken sentences, he gathered that the MD of their team lived on the outskirts of Madrid and there was a presentation of the final work at his mansion today. It was his limos that were dropping the team home. And the girls found the tequila in the car & just went for it after the grueling last 48 hours of work.

He also understood that her phone was on airplane mode most of the day. So she hadn’t seen his messages. Hadn’t seen the article either. 

Suddenly, there was some commotion on the line.

‘Roma is hitting me to talk to you. Putting you on speaker.’

‘Heyyy lover boyyyy - finally.’

This time he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

‘Well hello to you too.’

‘You should know that you owe me. I convinced Ananya to go to the match. And, most importantly, I convinced her to GO WITH YOU after the match.’

‘Oh, I thought she came because of me. How sad.’

‘A little coz of you. But mostly it was me.’

‘I see. Then I definitely owe you one, Roma.’

‘Remember that when I ask for signed jerseys of the WHOLE TEAM. And Zidane. And of course our one true love Ronaldo.’

‘Ahh you too.’

‘Of course, we share a common love. But Ananya loves him more.’

‘Believe me, I know.’

The car swerved to their street soon after, stopping outside their apartment building.

‘Girls, focus now, ya? - watch your step, go inside, lock the door. Ananya - call me after. I am waiting.’

‘Sir yes sir.’

‘Byeee lover boyyyyy.’

Jude groaned as they hung up - staring at the phone for it to ring again. Praying that they don’t trip & fall on their assess. 

The wait was excruciating. He got to his room, changed into his sleeping shorts, paced around, still nothing. How fuckin irresponsible. Finally, after 13 long mins, she called.

‘What took you so long?’

‘Code wasn’t working. Had to call neighbors to buzz us in.’

‘Wasn’t working or you forgot it?’

‘Pretty sure it wasn’t working.’

He shook his head & let it go, understanding how it was a lost cause. 

Then he started blurting out some instructions to her like ‘re-check the door’, ‘grab some water’, ‘tell me you ate something before drinking’ etc.

Ananya followed them diligently, and the slurring reduced as the liqueur settled down. Still quite out of it, but he could hear the girl he knew in there.

Knowing she was safe now, his mood improved, and her antics even started looking cute. 

‘Facetime?’

It felt like forever since he had seen her last. Held her last. 

When he finally laid eyes on her, all his frustration & anxiety of last two days started to evaporate.

‘Hey you.’

She waved back happily, snuggled into her pillow, still in her work clothes. All dopey from the alcohol. 

‘If I fall asleep on you tonight, don’t take it personally. Haven’t slept in 2 days.’

‘But you kicked ass though didn’t ya? 

Her face brightened, despite the exhaustion.

‘Kinda did.’

‘Knew it. Proud of ya.’

He really was. She could tell. She was starting to learn how to read his bright, expressive, goofy eyes. Tonight, they were deep & sincere. And a little anxious.

‘How’s your mood now?’

20 minutes ago he would have had a very different answer. 

‘Now? All fine, dove.’

She was about to tease him, call him cheesy & sickly sweet but he doubled down with his big brown doe eyes.

‘Missed you.’

Again, the sincerity hit her square in her heart. Throwing her off guard. He seemed different tonight. Vulnerable. The trademark blend of cocky flair & casual nonchalance not at the forefront. 

‘Missed you too.’

She sighed, as her eyes fluttered shut. Not that she had had much time for any active thought the last few days. But seeing him like this just reminded her how much she was looking forward to meeting him last night.

As she gathered herself, he took in her surroundings. The baby pink pillows amused him the most; somehow he hadn’t associated that with her. 

‘Can’t believe this is how I get to see your bedroom. On FaceTime.’

He didn't realize he had said it out loud. She giggled at his groans, batting her eyelashes at him. The vixen.

‘Yeah? What else did you have in mind?’

Jude shifted uncomfortably in the sheets. 

‘Don’t tease. Not tonight.’

‘When’s a good time, then?’

‘When I am in touching distance of you, tease away, by all means.’

‘I am not stupid, Jude.’

‘Never thought you were, dove.’

Challenging each other was kind of becoming their thing. Neither liked backing down & both loved the dynamic.

But she was tired. Ready to drop dead anytime.

‘Gimme 2. Need to change out of these.’

‘Cool, I’ll stay here.’

She placed the phone on the bed. Then, on second thoughts, she covered the phone with her blanket. Suddenly, his screen was filled with baby pandas.

‘Seriously? I was facing the ceiling, what was I gonna see?’

‘Don’t trust you & your peripheral vision.’

Jude groaned audibly, facing the disorienting pandas, starting to seriously dislike the otherwise adorable creatures.

He could hear her bouncing around her room, humming something in a foreign tongue, heels clicking on the floor. Still quite buzzed, clearly.

And then, a loud thump.

‘What happened? You ok?’

‘Zipper got stuck in heels. Knocked over a carton. Am fine.’

Jude turned & buried his face in the pillow, trying very hard to drown out the thoughts of what she was doing right now.

He couldn’t afford to let himself wander, since they hadn’t yet discussed the matter at hand.

But it was hard, he nearly bit the pillow to rein himself in. 

That’s how she found him when she returned in her tank top. The same one she had on that night, when he kissed her. Great.

‘What’s with you?’

She eyed him curiously, and he recovered quickly, game face back on.

‘Need to talk about something.’

‘Go on.’

Something had shifted in the environment. In him. Putting her on the edge.

Ripping off the band-aid quickly seemed like the best strategy to him.

‘A tabloid piece came out today about me & a girl, saying she is my girlfriend and we have been dating for 2 months. Which is not true. Never dated her. No idea how they came up with this. Wanted to give you a heads-up. Sent you the link in chat earlier today.’

He got it all out quickly. Then zeroed in on her face to gauge her reaction.

Her face had hardened like she was preparing for something unpleasant. Expressions too neutral, too blank for his liking. Almost cold. A more agitated reaction would have been less unsettling.

Ananya had a feeling it was something like this. The shield was up. Plus she was too spent to give any kind of outward reaction. 

She replayed his words in her head, and read through the article, while he waited patiently.

Her insta feed was also full of this now. This was everywhere. She found the ID of the woman and clicked on her profile.

‘She is pretty.’

This was not the first thing he had expected to hear. But he had the good sense to know that no response was the best response. Both confirmation and denial would have been scoffed at. 

‘You say you didn’t date her, but you do know her, right? Didn’t hear you deny that.’

Her tone was matter-of-fact, business-like. As if she was slicing & dicing a work project.

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Met her through insta. Liked some pics of each other. Chatted on DM. Then, met in person. Once.’

‘When?’

‘Two months ago.’

So the article had gotten at least something right.

‘Slept with her?’

Both were surprised by her cutting to the chase like this. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions significantly plus she wasn't in the mood to entertain any nonsense.

‘Yes.’

‘Why only once?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Why not again? She is pretty.’

‘Umm…she is not from here.’

That wasn’t a good answer, he knew it the moment he said it. It wasn’t the complete truth either. But the damage was done.

‘Any exchanges after?’

‘Not from me.’

The unsaid hung heavily in the air. She chose to not address it. 

Mindlessly, she kept scrolling through the girl’s profile and the details in the article, not wanting to say anything more immediately. Not wanting to look at him, while his eyes were glued to her face throughout. 

Eventually, he couldn’t handle the silence & spoke softly.

‘Remember, this was in the past. Nothing has happened since we met. Nothing will happen.’

The deep baritone was back, trying to lull her into a sense of security. 

She smiled wryly. If only it were that simple to believe. If only her mind was not filled with images of him frolicking at his home with this woman, as was so definitively stated in the article. 

He felt the chasm widening between them, pulling her further away.

Some core truths, albeit crude, needed to be said out loud now. 

‘Ananya - I’ve never lied to you. Never not answered anything you threw my way. Never painted a false picture of my lifestyle. We’ve discussed these encounters before. Yes this put a face to it & I get it’s hard. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was single, and both consenting adults always knew it was just sex, nothing more.’

Her eyes shot up at him at the last line, which he was expecting. But he stood his ground.

‘I can see you are judging me hard, and them too. Look…’

She cut him off sharply.

‘THEM? Who are they to me? Why should I judge women I don’t know anything about?’

‘And me?’

‘YOU? I am TRYING to understand you. Your DECISIONS. It is NOT EASY. Not something I ever imagined dealing with.’

‘I get it.’

He really did. She didn’t hear what he said though, still stuck on his previous words.

‘And THEM? Seriously how many are there? How many such GIRLFRIENDS should I be prepared for?’

He blanked & panicked simultaneously. How was he supposed to answer that? Thankfully, she intervened.

‘You know what? Scratch that. Don’t answer that, I don’t ever wanna know. I don’t care.’

She jerked her face away, trying to compose herself.

But he couldn’t stop staring at her. The usually calm, jovial features a picture of irritation & exhaustion right now. The need to hold her close & comfort her paralyzed him.

‘Can we do this in person? I can be there in 20-25 mins.’

‘NO.’

It was a firm, decisive no. Leaving no scope for discussion. He figured it was also her showing him he wasn’t just gonna get his way with her, that she wasn’t like the others. 

But he knew that already. That’s what had fascinated him so about her. She was unlike anyone he had been with before. How he wished she could see that too.

For the first time, the silence between them was not comfortable. Or comforting. 

The silence was interrupted by constant pings on her phone - two calls followed by a few messages. He saw her eyes go wide as she focused on the screen.

It was 12 am. Jude had a sinking feeling who it could be from. Last two days, he had really behaved himself. Despite knowing she would have spent every waking minute at work around that insufferable colleague of hers. Sticking to her like a leech. Pinging her at odd times. 

But, in a grand display of restraint, Jude hadn't uttered a word to her. It was her work after all. 

‘Jude I’m gonna need two mins.’

She muttered urgently, getting up from the bed.

‘I will stay online if that’s ok.’

‘Fine.’

She was already out the door, leaving the phone, leaving him behind.

Jude found himself facing the ceiling of her room again. Seriously, what the fuck just happened? Could this day get any more rotten?

She returned in a minute. He could hear her but not see her yet. Bile rose in his throat when he realised who she was talking to.

‘Hey Arjun, yes I found it. It’s with me now. Thank you so much for letting me know, this could have gone anywhere. You are a lifesaver.’

A pause for a few seconds, in which Jude plotted getting that cockroach permanently banned from the Bernabeu (Ananya had mentioned how big a fan he was), and then her voice again. Filled with genuine gratitude. Jude wanted to puke. 

‘Yeah all good, thanks again. Good night, see you tmrw.’

If her intent was to hurt Jude, then someone should hand her the Balon d’or immediately.

Ananya hung up, came back to the bed, and realized her phone was not on mute. She couldn’t find it in herself to care though, not right now.

‘All ok?’

Jude would have put monks to shame at the evenness he was able to muster in his voice.

‘Roma was drunk-texting on our work group. Some questionable stuff. Hv deleted the texts, will keep her phone tonight. Glad Arjun alerted me.’

And just like that, evenness went out the window. Replaced with sarcasm, laced with disdain.

‘How sweet of him, what a gentleman.’

Ananya turned the full force of her glare at Jude, which he met head on. Fire dancing in both their eyes. 

‘Would you GROW UP? Not everything is about you. And yes, he IS a gentleman. Your petulance will not change that.’

‘A FUCKIN TWAT is what he is. Always interrupting us. Always trying to cozy up to you. Even when he doesn’t have a shot. Classic small-dick energy. Quite fuckin LITERALLY in his case.’

Ananya could punch him through the screen. The insufferable, entitled, derisive prick that he was being. So full of himself. He needed to be put in his place. 

‘Yeah? Maybe I should verify that.’

The bodyblow landed as intended. Making him double over with pain.

Jude felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and in the nuts at the same time. His throat went dry and his hands turned clammy.

The numbness hitting his brain, then his body. The rage dissipated & he realised he didn’t have a leg to stand on, given how they had gotten here tonight.

Plus she would never do the thing she hates the most. She would never cheat, he was convinced.

His tone went down several notches, as did his attitude.

‘I know you are angry. I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘Oh no - I really do want..’

‘ANANYA PLEASE. Please. Slap me if you want to, smack me all that you like but NOT THIS. Please.’

The distress in his choked voice made her stop. Knocking the fight out of her. 

Her voice lost its edge, coming out in a whisper.

‘A hypothetical scenario broke you. Whereas….you…..you have actually..’

She didn’t finish the sentence. But the message was well understood.

‘I know it’s unfair. Even hypocritical of me. But I can’t help it. Can’t handle even the idea of you with anyone else. I want all of you. All for me. All the time. I’d go nuts otherwise I swear.’

This moment, she saw a young, sensitive, insecure boy in Jude, not the mature, articulate, sorted, in-control grown man known to the world. 

She found it strangely healing; a distinct warmth seeping into her skin and settling into the pit of her stomach. 

It was 12:30. Two emotionally charged hours they had spent on the phone. Dead tired from work. Yet, the idea of hanging up & calling it a night never occurred to either. 

Just then, her doorbell rang, making her jump.

‘Don’t be alarmed. Answer it.’

She eyed him curiously, checking his background again. He was still in his bed. 

‘What did you do now?’

‘Answer the door & you’ll see.’

Huffing, she got out of bed & walked out. Leaving him facing the ceiling again. Third time that night.

When she came back, he finally saw a ghost of a smile on her lips. And the light returned to her gorgeous soft eyes.

She was still gazing at the bouquet, stroking & smelling with contentment.

‘White Tulips for dove. Thought it’d be fitting.’

‘Jude.’

She sighed deeply, and buried her head in the flowers, letting the strong scent drown her senses.

This was never going to be easy, she knew that from the start. But every time she got wobbly, he steadied her. Every time doubts pulled her away, he clawed his way back to her. Lack of effort was definitely not something she could hold against him. 

Maybe he means what he says. Maybe it is different for him this time.

She turned to look at his smiling face, still leaning on the flowers.

‘How did you even find these in the middle of the night?’

‘To be fair I ordered them in the evening, when I thought you blocked me.’

‘Blocked you?’

He just shrugged in response. Slightly embarrassed but trying to not show it.

She laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he finally let go too, letting himself relax. The sound of his little giggles bounced on her ears, doing things to her.

‘You are such a loon.’

‘Wanna be your loon.’

She was starting to melt now and wanted to arrest the fall. So she switched gears.

‘Tell me - what was the plan if I had blocked you?’

There had to be a plan. He wasn’t the kind to take things lying down. 

‘Cheesecake & churros from our cafe tmrw morning. Along with a letter stating how a 20-year-old boy has the same psychological maturity as a 15-year-old girl. Therefore you should cut me some slack given women are far smarter biologically and also coz you are you. I’m not saying it, science is. Facts.’

‘Reallyyyyy? So a 20 yr old boy lacks psychological maturity, but somehow that’s not a problem when he fucks half the world with impunity? What does science say about that? No disadvantage there?’

Jude’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, still trying to process how his attempted humour had backfired in about 50,000 ways.

To his credit, he recovered fast.

‘See? A smart person would not have walked into that hole like I did. Exhibit A of how dumb I am. This just proves my point.’

‘How come the world fawns over your intelligence & maturity then?

‘They don’t know me. It’s a scam. Trent says I should still be in diapers. He said that to Jobe once & the little scoundrel agreed.'

He had done it again. Pacified her without her even realising. Yeah, she wasn’t buying the dumb act. This boy knew his power & used it unabashedly, to his full advantage.

It was 1 am. She yawned while checking the time & Jude suddenly got hit by pangs of guilt.

He would let her go soon, just needed to hear one thing.

‘We ok? 

He barely blinked till she responded.

‘I guess so.’

She shrugged, realising she wasn’t mad anymore.

He figured that’s the best he would get tonight. But soon, when they are together, he’ll make up for this mess.

It was time to let her get some well deserved rest.

Jude leaned in, eyes firmly locked into hers, and kissed his phone screen. He had never done that for another girl before. But this one, she made him do this twice in a span of 2 days.

She followed his movement closely, meeting his gaze. Somehow feeling his lips brush her skin. 

‘End my misery and meet me soon?’

She nodded, and he flashed her a trademark ear-to-ear Jude smile. Crinkling eyes n all. Making her heart leap in her chest. 

‘Now go, get some rest. And since you won’t let me come over, hug the flowers instead when you sleep tonight. You’ll feel me around.’

‘Bye Jude.’

‘Bye dove.’

Goes without saying, she did hug the flowers as she slept that night. 

...............................................................................................

This chapter was very different in my head when I posted the previous one. But then, stuff happened the last few days & I felt like writing about it.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. Hope you are liking the story & these two, lots more to come :)

[damthosefandoms]

my life has changed in oh so many ways

(ao3 link)

Summary:

"You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who've picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

"It just ain't fair you never got any help!"

“You told me you wanted to be a teacher here when you grow up, Sodapop. But if you want to be a teacher you have to work! What do you think would happen if I came to school everyday and did nothing?”

“I ‘unno.”

“I’d get fired! So if I were you, I’d pick up that pencil and start writing.”

Soda puts his head down on his desk and cries. His teacher just sighs and walks away. She’s giving up on him just like everyone else.

He’s a lost cause.

He just wanted help.

Soda slams the door to their dad’s old truck and tries to control his breathing. He waits for Darry to drive off, to drop Ponyboy at the middle school, where their genius little brother only has one month left of seventh grade. Soda has what feels like centuries left of tenth; but the piece of paper hidden in his sorry excuse for a backpack will change that.

Steve jogs up to him and goes, “You remember it today?”

“I shoved it under my pillow and couldn’t sleep all night ‘cause of it. Yeah, I remembered it.”

“They gonna take it covered in drool?”

Soda swings at him, but Steve just dodges and switches to walk on his other side. They pause in front of the doors, so Soda can get the withdrawal form out.

The main entrance to Will Rogers High School is intimidating, but not as intimidating as what lies beyond the doors. Most kids—greasers and socs alike—don’t give it a second thought as they walk in every morning, but Sodapop Curtis isn’t most kids, and the paper in his hand proves it.

He’s never even driven by this place without wanting to throw up.

“Seriously, man. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I know Darry’ll kill you, but we talked about this, we all got your back and Two-Bit or me are gonna drive ya to school every day and you can just walk to the DX for work, say you’re working just part time every afternoon now, he’ll never—”

“It ain’t Darry I’m worried about. He’ll be mad as the day is long, I don’t give a damn. Dad gave the okay, it ain’t up to Darrel at all. Never was. But Pony’s gonna take it hard and I can’t stand that.”

Soda gives it three classes before he feels sick to his stomach. He’s got the form folded up in the pocket of his dad’s favorite flannel, the same one he’s worn practically every day since the accident. Darry’s always getting on him about giving it a rest and wearing something else—“Everyone knows we’re poor! No need to make them think we don’t wash our damn clothes!”—but to Soda it’s like a security blanket. It’s also one the few shirts he has that don’t make him want to rip his skin off while wearing it. And, you know, his dad always cut the tags off.

He doesn’t even ask his history teacher to let him use the bathroom, just gets up and leaves. He’s told to sit down but he doesn’t because he’s a greaser and nobody expects obedience from him, anyway. He doesn’t look back as he walks out, just reaches into his pocket and takes out the form. It’s the only piece of paper he’s ever put in there without crumpling. He absent-mindedly hums a little tune while he walks—“Help!” by the Beatles, which is one of his favorite songs. It’s a few years old but he heard it on the radio again recently and it’s catchy, not that he could ever admit that to any of his east side buddies—and he unfolds the form. He wants to read through it one more time before he hands it in.

He knows what it says in theory, but there’s so many words on there, and the font is so small that his eyes kind of glaze over, but he keeps his eyes glued to the page while he walks.

Until he collides with something and it flies out of his hands. He looks up and there’s a girl in front of him—ohgodit’sCherry—and he immediately goes to help her up. She looks at him for a second, eyes wide and he thinks maybe her cheeks might be as red as his are her hair, but she ignores his hand, so instead he goes to pick up her books for her.

“Sorry,” Soda mumbles, somehow briefly forgetting that he’s not supposed to be saying stuff like that to soc girls, he’s got a reputation to uphold, but glory, his Mama taught him manners and he’d be damned if he didn’t use them. And deep down he knows Cherry isn’t like the other soc girls because she was nice to him once in first grade and he’s never ever forgotten it.

He nearly shudders at the memory. The words “consonant digraph” are not ones he remembers anymore, all these years later, but way, way back when he was learning them he wanted to cry at the mention of it.

He’s brought back to first grade. It’s sometime in the beginning half of the year, and they’re doing some cut-and-glue activity with partners. He’s been paired with Sherri Valance because he’s always paired with her. They sit next to each other because their class sits in alphabetical order by first name, and they always do partner work with their neighbors.

There’s muffled yelling down the hall and another first-grade teacher pokes her head in and asks for backup, ‘cause one of her problem students is throwing chairs. Their teacher tells them she’ll be right back and heads out. Soda hears somebody who wasn’t in his class last year mutter to their friend, “Dallas, probably.” They see the principal speed-walking down the hall through the doorway, and then everyone loses interest and starts to get to work.

Sherri taps Soda on the shoulder.

“Can you write our names for me?” she says. “I’m going to go get scissors and stuff.”

She gets up and Soda looks at her nametag. He takes a whole minute to decode it. Sherri.

Goddamn digraphs. /sh/ and /ch/ are his worst enemies lately, and she’s got one of them in her name. He knows it’s real sad that he can barely tell which one. He feels butterflies in his stomach as he picks up his pencil. In the best possible handwriting he can muster up—writes her name. He is pretty sure he wrote it correctly, tries to read it aloud, and thinks he’s doing well until one of the kids at the desk pair behind him, Randy Adderson, laughs.

“What’d you just say?”

Soda is starting to understand now why Darry keeps telling him to stay away from the kids with the nice backpacks and brand-name shoes.

“You’re copying off her nametag and you still spelled it wrong?” Randy sneers, and his friend Bob Sheldon looks over too, and starts to grin. Soda’s butterflies turn into rocks.

“I just wrote her name. Sherri.”

But his mouth does that thing again where the word doesn’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth as it did in his head and he can feel his cheeks heating up. That always happens. Bob and Randy and their friends always make fun of him for it, too. He tries to make out the letters he wrote on the paper.

He did write a y instead of an i. And his S is kinda weird-looking, too.

Oh. He didn’t mean to do that. His pencil must’ve moved on its own again like it always does when his brain gets jumbled.

“Cherry, you said Cherry! Her name is Sherri! An’ I think you wrote it too, but who knows, I can’t read that at all!” Bob jeers at him loudly, and the whole class is starting to look over. Chet Baker, the kid who mentioned Dallas earlier, is laughing too, and he whispers something into the ear of his partner. Soon everyone is staring at him, and Soda feels like sinking into the floor. Bob revels in the glory of it all.

“Leave it to dumb ol’ Sodapop to mess it all up!”

The classroom explodes into laughter, like that was the greatest insult of all time and not some lame comment from little kid.

“I like it, actually,” a voice says suddenly and Soda thinks for a second it’s an angel come down to earth. But it’s just Sherri, and she’s handing Soda a glue stick.

“Cherry. I love that. It’s going to be my new nickname.”

She elbows him gently and smiles at him. Her eyes are so green. Soda thinks green eyes are his favorite; Cherry has green eyes, and so do both of his brothers and his dad. That’s almost all of his favorite people on Earth, except for his mom. Her eyes are brown, like his own.

“I really like it, Soda.”

He really likes it too. Soda wishes he could’ve stayed in first grade forever, sometimes, because back then Cherry always stood up for him and now…

Now they’re sixteen and when he goes to hand Cherry her books, she seems to come back to reality. Her face contorts into something angry, or maybe more defensive, as she snaps, “I don’t need your help, grease. Helping me pick up my books like some wannabe-gentleman… don’t you have a girl, anyway?”

He does. Sandy’s somewhere one floor up in English right now reading some Shakespearean tragedy about star-crossed lovers, and he hasn’t told her he’s dropping out yet, either. He loves—really loves—three people left in the world, two of them are his brothers and one, he thinks, is Sandy, and they’re the only ones of the people he really cares about that he hasn’t told about his plan.

Now that his parents are dead, they’re the only people left he’s truly terrified of disappointing. They’re the only people he ever talk to about his problems.

The only people he felt he could ever ask for help. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t anymore.

So why does it bother him so much when he has to ask Cherry Valance to move her foot because she's standing on a paper that might honestly be his lifeline?

He points it out to her and she goes, “Oh,” and picks it up for him. Even brushes the dust off. Soda watches her eyes scan the top of the paper before his face turns even more red and he has to rip it from her hand.

“You didn’t see shit, soc,” he snaps, and maybe it’s mean and out of character for the ever-so-charming Sodapop Curtis that is known to walk these halls, but he’s embarrassed. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut at the face Cherry’s making and his stomach somehow hurts even more.

Not hurts. He’s got butterflies.

He’s in love with Sandy though, and she loves him back, and who gives a damn if he’s been practically ignoring Cherry for a decade now. Who gives a damn if she was the only person from the entire west side of Tulsa to show up at his parents’ funeral. She’s always gone to their church and it was right after the regular Sunday morning service and it doesn’t mean shit. Even if he didn’t have a box under his bed he’s been filling with cash for a ring to marry Sandy one day, Cherry wouldn’t matter, because she’s a soc and he’s a greaser and he might not be in even the average level English class like Sandy is, but Soda asked his mom about it once back when Darry was in sophomore year and was reading it and so he knows how Romeo & Juliet ends.

Soda’s in love with Sandy. She loves him back. He flips the collar of his flannel up because he’s a greaser and he’s gotta look tuff or tough or whatever and keeps walking.

“Sodapop!” Cherry calls, and he shouldn’t turn around but there’s classes going on right now and no one’s watching them.

“What?”

“I just—you aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who’ve picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

“School just ain’t going to be the same without you brightening up everyone’s day, Soda,” Cherry calls after him, but he pushes through the door to the stairwell and pretends her words aren’t eating him alive.

“It just ain’t fair you never got any help!”

He wanted to be a teacher once. So did his mom, once upon a time, that meant college, and she had no money and had a baby at eighteen, so she never even had a shot of working in a daycare. And Soda’s dumb and nobody wants a dumb teacher, so he’s never going to be able to make a difference in the lives of kids like him.

Cherry’s right, he never got any help. That’s why he wanted to be the one to help the next generation. But it’s not going to happen.

She stood up for him once. She used to check his work for him before he handed it in. She would whisper-read when they were supposed to be reading silently so he’d understand the passage. They just can’t talk about it anymore because they grew up.

There aren’t many things he’ll miss about Will Rogers High School, but Cherry Valance is admittedly going to be one of them.

Another thing he won’t miss—the grouchy secretary he’s got to hand in the form to. When he gets to the office she gives him a nasty look that just screams get back to class, hood! or maybe something more along the lines of what’s this idiot doing here? He blow in on the way to stupid town?

…Maybe it’s an oh great, another greasy little troublemaker sent to the office.

Clearly that’s the right one, because the first thing she says is “What’d you do? I ain’t gotten a call up or nothin’.”

“I have this withdrawal form to hand in. I talked to our case worker with social services, she says she confirmed with you guys here that my dad’s signature should still be good enough even though he…?”

She swipes the form out of his hands and glances over it. “I’ll have the principal look at it. Get back to class.”

Soda turns, fully intent on finding his backpack and then walking out a side door somewhere instead, and he’s still going to—but just as he’s walking out someone calls his name. He looks back over his shoulder and the principal has stepped out of his office.

“Mr. Curtis, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and Soda nods, just hoping it’s not to do with that form.

He’s handed an envelope, but it’s not for him.

To the Parent/Guardian of Ponyboy Michael Curtis, it says on the front. Soda’s confused.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s an intake form for high school.”

“Pony’s in seventh grade. There’s a month left of school.”

“Yes, and his test scores are like nothing we’ve ever seen. He’s going to be coming here next year.”

“He’s in seventh grade. Sir, he never even hands in his homework on time! How’s he jumping ahead to ninth?”

“Mr. Curtis, please, just deliver that letter, would you? Saves me the trouble of having to mail it myself. Glory knows you of all people should understand not wanting to waste money on a stamp.”

The butterflies in Soda’s stomach from earlier turn to rocks and he feels like he’s being weighed down again. “I understand just fine, sir.”

He walks back to class, grabs his backpack and walks all the way home.

That night Darry talks about throwing a party for their little brother and Soda has to grin and bear it, because he’s honestly jealous as all hell. He’ll never admit it, though, because he’s as jealous as he is proud of Ponyboy.

But now he’s never going to be able to tell them he dropped out.

Not when Pony’s immediate reaction to the letter is “I get to go school with Soda next year?”

(He then adds, “and Johnny?” but Soda missed that part because he was too busy wallowing in his own guilt.)

Ponyboy’s going to hate this, he thinks the world and more of Soda and he’ll probably find a way to blame Darry for it. But it’s not Darry’s fault, it isn’t their parents’ fault or anybody’s except Soda’s brain for not working like it should. He thinks if his brothers fight tonight he’ll either lose it and kill them both or never stop crying, so he doesn’t tell them that night.

He doesn’t tell them for a month, not until it’s the last week of school and it’s pouring rain and Darry’s roofing job gets canceled for the day. He comes home early to find Soda sitting on the couch watching cartoons because it’s too early to head out to the DX. The clothes he left the house in that morning for school are drying on the radiator and Soda’s nose is red and Darry has to put the worry he’s going to get sick from walking home in the rain aside.

Ponyboy thinks Darry didn’t yell at Soda for dropping out. Well, he wasn’t home for the fallout.

For the “I know school is hard for you. If you really needed a day off, little buddy, you coulda told me instead of skipping. I’ll go call the school now and say you’re sick.”

And the “Sodapop Patrick, what the hell do they mean you ain’t been enrolled at Will Rogers for a month now?”

Or the horrible silence as Darry has to drive Soda to the DX for work in the pouring rain just so whatever cold he definitely caught that morning won’t get worse before it even starts.

No, Ponyboy won’t find out about any of it until he’s back to school shopping in August and jokingly asks Soda if he’s throwing in the towel this year because he’s not buying anything, and Soda casually tells him he’s not going back to school. That working full time at the DX over the summer wasn’t just a summer thing. It doesn’t go over well.

Darry carpools to work on the first day of Pony’s freshman year, because Soda practically begged him to let him have the truck to bring Pony to school alone that morning. Normally the kid would’ve walked, but Soda knows how big of a day this is, and their mom used to always make sure they didn’t have to walk on the first day, not even to the bus stop when they were in grammar school.

They pull up to the curb by the front doors and Soda can see Steve and Two-Bit and Johnny waiting for Ponyboy. He really appreciates Johnny for that. He never goes anywhere in the school that socs go unless there’s a teacher in the room, after he got jumped at the end of the last school year.

It figures he’d show up for Ponyboy, though. If Johnny isn’t with Dally—who’s not there because he got locked up after taking the blame for busting out a bunch of school windows last year even though Two-Bit did that—he’s with Ponyboy. They’re just close like that.

(Actually, Soda’s pretty sure Dally got himself arrested either because he’s simply self-destructive, or so he wouldn’t give himself a chance to kill anybody for what happened to Johnny, but that’s not really the point.)

Soda turns off the engine of the truck and turns to his brother.

“You ready?”

Ponyboy shrugs. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, a nervous habit the three brothers share. Soda gently pushes his arm down, getting Pony’s hand away from his mouth.

“You’re gonna do great, Pony. You might be young but you’re smarter than everybody in there. You’re the smartest guy I know.”

“You know Darry.”

“Darry’s Darry. He’s smart but he’s like—perfect, yknow? He don’t count. And he an’ I both reckon you’re smarter than he’ll ever be. You’re goin’ places, Pony. Really, truly going places. We both know it. You’re on your way up in the world, you’re gonna go so far.”

“People said that about Darry. Look at him now. He’s just a college dro—” Ponyboy cuts himself off and Soda knows why.

“Show ‘em what for, Pony,” he says. “Show ‘em what us Curtises are really made of, okay? Darry gave up his chance for us, but…if anybody’s gonna make it outta this place it’s gonna be you.”

Because Ponyboy was made great things, and Soda wasn’t, and he might still be jealous but his baby brother is going to kick ass in high school.

Soda hugs him and Pony gets out of the truck, and as he starts to walk away, Soda rolls the window down and he calls out:

“Hey, Pony, if you meet a girl named Cherry, tell her I said hi!”

Pony rolls his eyes and waves. Soda laughs to himself as he drives off.

Ponyboy Curtis, talking to a soc girl. Imagine that.

He’s too busy laughing at his own joke to notice Sandy on the sidewalk as he drives past, heading up the steps into the school practically hand-in-hand with a guy who isn’t him.

He does see a girl with auburn hair walking up to school, frowning, and Bob Sheldon’s got an arm around her.

“Great job, Soda! Mrs. Larkin, look how good Sodapop’s doing! He nearly finished the whole worksheet and didn’t give up once!”

“You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else.”

Soda turns the radio on. “All You Need Is Love” blasts through the speakers. The truck’s windows are down as he heads for the exit of the school’s parking lot.

One head turns.

But Sandy doesn’t like the Beatles.

[sarahreesbrennan]

Also also: is there any way, or will there be any way, for readers without whichever special edition (?) it’s in to read “Letters to My Lady from the Abyss…”? Reading your Reddit AMA in a desire to know more about this wonderful book and the idea of a tiny bit extra has me 👀

Thank you for wishing to know more! FairyLoot special edition is the special edition with bonus content. I will explain more. FairyLoot is a wonderful UK-based group who make fancy special editions for their monthly boxes. People sign up for FairyLoot and get books picked for them. You can get Young Adult, Adult Fantasy, or Romantasy, or a combination thereof - Long Live Evil was the August Adult Fantasy pick - and you can buy other special editions from their website. So the FairyLoot folks are Tastemakers as well as makers of beautiful objects. (ISN’T IT BEAUTIFUL? Pictures stolen. Interior art by Bon Orthwick who got Marius’s hair PERFECT.)

But you can’t buy the monthly boxes, unless they have extras! If they do have extra Evils to buy, I will put up a link.

There are many boxes now, but FairyLoot and Illumicrate are the two biggest and have made a lot more people embrace reading and see books as a special treat. Waterstones and Barnes & Noble have started making special editions of books because of them. A while back I knew none of this, because I was staying away from publishing, working with IP books (very different branch of publishing) and training for a different job. But then I did a catch-up call with my frien. She talked about FairyLoot. I did not understand her and thought maybe the deadlines had got on top of her and she believed fairies had looted her manuscript.

Holly: So these FairyLoot editions have (She holds up a copy of… I think… the Coldest Girl In Coldtown?) been amazing for UK sales.

Sarah: Sorry but why are these books so beautiful?

Holly: Because I just explained to you why, girl. Sarah: Can I have this.

Holly: No they’re limited!

So then I knew FairyLoot was a Giant Deal and they were offered Long Live Evil but I was sure they wouldn’t pick me.

My lovely editor Jenni: great news, the FairyLoot people picked you! Sarah: are you. are you quite sure.

Jenni: … yes? Could you write them some bonus content? Sarah: YES! A thing I can do for them? Oh yes! Here’s three things I can do. Tell them they can pick which one they would like!

I wrote a letter for them as well, to be bound in with the book. But the bonus content is an extra adventure or point of view you didn’t get to see in the main book. FairyLoot picks what they think their readers might like most.

I really like epistolary novels, where the action is told though letters, such as Jane Austen’s Lady Susan and Amal El Mohtar and Max Gladstone’s This Is How You Lose The Time War. So I thought it would be fun to do a story through letters!

Obviously I then had a moment of dark self-doubt.

Sarah: O my god why did they pick this nobody’s going to like him what shall I do! Holly: When I was writing Cardan’s letters you said ‘epistolary is so fun, you said, this is a piece of cake, you said, get in loser we’re writing romantically sinister letters, you said…’

Sarah: my Vision is a romantic The Screwtape Letters. Holly: … oh dear. Okay. Get in loser we’re writing romantically sinister letters.

And so with a lil help from my kind frien, I wrote Letters to My Lady From the Abyss, which is an epistolary short story with a POV we don’t get in book 1 and an adventure we don’t get to see. But I did write it, as you see, for FairyLoot so it belongs to them and it’s up to them. I think I might get it back in a year and then I’ll put it up on my website. I will let you know!

I am so sorry for this very long explanation, I just wanted to let you know what was up.

Should you read it, I hope you enjoy. And I will write more bonus content, I promise!

Also speaking of FairyLoot, they’re doing a readalong of Long Live Evil right now if anyone might like to chat about the book. Here’s a link to people talking about chapters 1-7 - they will do a different chunk every day! I like that people are choosing favourite characters, so far the Cobra, Key and Emer have the votes!

[wayfayrr]

Alright, I wonder how long an ask can be. U asked for it!😝

Also, if u were curious, since I’ve only played Botw and most but not all of totk, 98% of the time my yandere self-aware ideas will be of Wild/Tears.

How does Wild/Tears feel about the fairies? Like, is he embarrassed that reader has to watch that? Does he worry what they think? Or is he just like “eh, I can’t control their upgrade animations, sorry”. Then how does he feel when reader thinks it’s kinda cute/funny? I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy, but I must admit watching the level four animation is slightly funny bc I feel so bad for him. And in level three when he covers his face is cute.

What about when he just has to sit there for 10 hrs his time? Listen, I wanna upgrade the darn champion’s tunic but the stupid upgrades require 2 of each farmable dragon Zelda item. And I couldn’t find her for so long it was annoying. Ik she follows a certain path but even so u have to just keep following the path hoping u eventually run into her. So I just decided to farm an item, then sit there for 10 minutes r time until she’s farmable again. So how does Tears feel? Am I wasting his time? Is he bored? If he had an animation for it would he fall asleep? Would he glare at me for making him sit there for 10 hours? Plus, ima be honest. For those 10 minutes of me just waiting, I’ll usually scroll on my phone. I’m not gonna stare at the tv for 10 minutes, sorry lol. So is he mad that I’m not paying attention to him and stuff?

What about if I laugh at him? Alright, I don’t do it That much lol, just if I make an embarrassing mistake w him and he looks a little funny. Would he be embarrassed? Mad? ….?? I think he’s cuuute! It’s fiiine, right…?😭

Thinking about my one ask where I used him for science, totally not using bombs on him for any other reason! Anyway, so I have to admit, his overheating animation I like. I’m all for angst/whump w characters. Whenever I read AO3, 98% of the stories r angst/whump for Wild/Tears. Sicfic? Yes please! Nightmares? Yes please! Psychological torture? Sign me up! There was this one fic someone wrote about Wild being hit by a curse that trapped him in his memory next time he unlocked one, so he had to watch it over and over and over. The rest of the chain had to save him. Tho, if it makes u feel any better, I only like happy endings, no open ended ones, no sad ones, or character deaths. Nope. Fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after please and thank u lol. So anyway, I got sidetracked lol. My question was, would he be mad if I just put the game on the clothes menu when he’s overheating so he doesn’t lose any hearts over it, just watching him do it for a minute or two?

Sometimes I need to wear like one clothing item per outfit so I can use like 3 different abilities. For example, maybe bandana to climb faster, gloom shirt for an extra heartbreak, and snow pants bc it’s freezing? And sometimes I’ll complain that he looks ugly, well, not him, but the outfit, and say that I wish I could make him look cuter but I need these abilities atm. Does he hate the outfits like I do? Does he care more about function? Does he hate that I care so much?

How does he feel not being able to talk? Like literally every other character can talk except him. And he can’t do anything by himself. Everything he does is either a programmed animation or an action by my controller. I bet he has a lot he wants to say but can’t. Does he ever worry that if he were to get out and see me, what if he couldn’t talk to me??

🐰

yeah it's always a lot easier to think about the links you know better for stuff like this ngl, so I don't blame you for sticking to them. plus wild and tears are just fun too right? :3c

so starting from the top -

I think the fairies are a touchy subject for him, if you like the cutscenes then he can set his discomfort about being picked up and kissed somewhat - don't get me wrong he doesn't enjoy it but for your happiness he'll do it as many times as you make him (although, unless he finds a way to override the controls then it's not really like he has a choice in it) he'll make notes about how you like him acting in certain ways though - I mean if you like seeing him as a blushy mess covering his face in the game then you'll like it more when he's doing it in person right? Please don't make him recreate the level four one though.

To be honest, there's nothing that you could do to him that he could ever consider a waste of time. would he prefer you to be actively engaged? sure. Is he bothered if you're still there but just waiting for a bit for the dragon to recharge? Not really, yeah he'd prefer to be doing more, but at the same time it gives him a chance to observe and to get more of a grasp of how the game works while it's on and running compared to when he's robbed of his body and is left a being floating in a desolate void of numbers and machine code. He can relax and still have feeling and eyes on you and your eyes on him every now and then even though it's not as often as he'd like. as for the time? I think once he became aware he stopped running on hyrules time, so it's only ten minutes for him too. Ten minutes that granted feel longer than that cause of the scenery, but still only ten minutes. if it were a situation where he was still in a hyrule then he'd be further detached from anyone else. (my thoughts are if the game is left in standby on the switch then it's all still loaded and the links have free reign but if it's closed and you're playing another switch game then it tosses them into the abyss)

laughing at him for being cute is all good but please don't make fun of him ;-; he's only doing what you make him do after all!

I need to write more whump and hurt/comfort for tears actually, thanks for the reminder Well, he's not getting hurt by it -soooo he's kinda a bit deluded into thinking that it's another show of love for him. You simply love all the sounds that he's making <3 (and I don't blame you, his whimpers are actually just so adorable?????) You care so much that you're not letting him get hurt for your happiness!!!!

I think he takes it as a compliment that you care so much about how his outfits look, he wants to look his best for you too!!! If he could he'd find a way to stack the different bonuses so that you could treat him like a proper dress up doll without having to worry about the environment and how it impacts him :c he doesn't care what outfit he 'wears' cause it's not like he's actually wearing and interacting with it. it's glued to him like a second skin so whether you're keeping him shirtless or putting him in the thickest shirt possible there's no difference to him just don't mod him so that he's no longer himself please

The fact that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to communicate with you is something that he worries about alot, not even just not having a voice. He'd be fine with being mute if he can write or sign to you, hell he could probably delude himself into being fine that he couldn't do that if he could move freely and hold you. what scares him the most is the idea that he'd be like a puppet cut, that if he gets out that without the code acting as his strings he falls limp like a puppet cut loose. that's what's horrifying to him. anything else he could learn to live with, but that potential keeps him from making any rash movements where the cost could outweigh the benefits. I like to think that out of desperation, (this goes for sky in the fic too) they stole another characters voicebank from another game :) one that speaks your native tongue preferably, but at the very least one that shares a language you speak

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

I saw your post and I think to ask you for a Yandere! Wild but Imagine this, isekai! Reader doesn't know anything about him or his game, is only a confused person who doesn't know how he got to this place.

Anyway, thanks for read this and sorry for my bad English, My first lenguaje is spanish and I'm not very sure for my English.

Order up!

I genuinely really like this idea so this was a lot of fun to write.

Enjoy!~

Tw: Yandere, obsessive, mentions of murder

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Long past were the days Link would protect anyone but himself. In the aftermath of the calamity, villagers were weary of those who traversed the land and of good reason. Many who did were simply were insane with the thought of leaving their inconsequential little hamlet to see the shattered world. Hatred for fellow man ran rampant, but the crazed look in the eyes of few who’ve lost themselves to Hyrule, Link couldn’t blame people’s cautiousness. Besides, it simply wasn’t within in his best interest being a protector anymore. There wasn’t much to really speak about the issue— Zelda probably would have if she were here, but she wasn’t, so blissful silence stood. He held no love in his heart for the people of Hyrule, much as they had none for him. They turned their backs on him, and so he does similarly to them. But you… you weren’t of Hyrule. So it was only natural to him that you’d be the exception.

Sent to him by strings of blue light, you awoke confused at first. You knew nothing of the lands nor people he spoke of, and eventually reached the conclusion that, you too were out of place in the world that now was. He couldn’t simply leave you at Hateno —they were cautious to accept him, they would never accept you as you are— so, instead, he just had to keep you. He played knight once before, so had hard could it truly be. So while you attuned yourself to your reality —while still ripping away for a chance back home, one he simply couldn’t permit— all he had to do was kill what turned their blades on you. It was rhythmic and mindless. But, as it turns out, He found it oddly more enjoyable to play knight when there was someone to kiss his wounds better after busting ass so you’d be safe. In reality it was you that made it worthwhile, not the work. You’d brush his hair and braid it so it wouldn’t mat, whispering stories of your home. Stories that much resembled myths with how far they were out of his hands. Stories you spoke through tight lips as he smiled. Stories that filled his head long after you stopped speaking. He’s never been much keen on people —or were they never keen on him?— and yet he couldn’t grapple if it was normal to feel this much over your friends.

His devotion to you was rooted deep within him, stiff and unwavering. It wound through his battered heart, patching it whole. As time passed and the roots grew deeper and deeper, lodging themselves more and more, he found his line of work expand. Monsters caused a threat, sure, but that begs the question— what really is a monster? That man who was following you? No way to tell what was going through his head. But it was better you’d be safe rather than him being alive. The mean shopkeep, patronising you for not fitting into a tunic? She’d ought to be nicer now she has no tongue. Homeless man lunging at your ankle? Can’t beg if he has no hands. All in the matter of keeping you safe. Hyrule was a very, very dangerous place. But you were lucky to have the Hero at your bidding. He waited on your call, on your order. Especially since you always made it worth it in ways of food and whatnot. He’d have given you his heart unseasoned if it meant you’d give him a kiss on the cheek. He’d forge the ring if it’d mean you’d marry him. He’d build a house where no man nor monster could find it so you’d live safe. He’d kill ganon a million times over so long as he could fall into your arms afterwards. You must understand how much he loves you. The time and care he’s put in, the blood he’s spilt in your name, he loves you. So much. Too much. Too much to let you go home to your stories. Your home is with him now.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Out of This World

A/N: This is my contribution to the @dieterbravobrainrotclub May server challenge. Was it supposed to be a 1k word drabble? Yes. Did I intend to keep it at that length? Truly, I did. Did I absolutely play myself like a fucking fiddle? Again, yes. Am I sorry? Fuck no, I am not. This story single-handedly pulled me out of a month-long slump, so I was not about to clip it's wings. I had a flippin' blast writing this one, and I hope you will have a flippin' blast reading it!

Prompt: Meet Cute + "Do you believe in aliens?"

Warnings: a bunch of F bombs and other swears if anyone cares about that, mentions of past drug use and addiction but nothing current or detailed, Dieter's wild finger-combed curls

Word Count: 5.7k

Fun Fact: The Rancho Mirage Observatory is a real place, linked with the city's library, which means that it is open to the public. How frickin' cool is that? Learn more here.

I can’t believe this is happening. 

Fifteen years ago, if someone would have told you that double majoring in physics and engineering would eventually lead to you sharing a scene with an Oscar winning actor in a big budget Hollywood film, you would have laughed directly in their face. 

Which was pretty much what you did when Sharon, the executive director at the Rancho Mirage Observatory where you worked, told you that the facility was going to be used as a filming location for an upcoming summer blockbuster. 

“Sure, Sharon,” you smirked and playfully rolled your eyes without looking away from your computer. “And we’re all gonna be big stars, right?” 

Sharon had a proclivity for puns. Cheesy, obvious, predictable puns, at that, but it was sort of endearing. You were certain that the “news” she was sharing was just a set up for wordplay that you could see coming from lightyears away. Sharon’s puns were rubbing off on you just a little. 

You, though, as scientists sometimes are when testing theories, were wrong. 

“Well, no, not all of us,” Sharon responded, a somewhat mischievous grin on her face. “Just you.” 

That got your full attention, your eyes going satellite- wide as you snapped your head up to look at your boss. “What?”

She went on to explain that the casting director for the film - a sci-fi thriller called The Goldilocks Zone - preferred to cast actual professionals for small parts when applicable. Doing so meant that there was far less of a chance of an actor fumbling technical jargon or performing a job-specific task incorrectly, meaning that there was less of a chance that something that didn’t make sense would make the final cut. Like an astronomer adjusting the telescope lens the wrong way, for example. 

Right away, you thought of every medical drama you’d ever watched with your mom. She’d been an x-ray technician for thirty years, and she always noticed when an actor on screen was looking at a diagnostic image backwards or had hung a film upside down on the lightboard. It happened often. Like, once an episode, often. 

From that perspective, what this casting director was doing was smart. 

But from the perspective of you not having a lick of acting experience, you weren’t sure it was the best call. 

When you pointed that out, it was Sharon’s turn to roll her eyes. “Please,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You basically put on a live one-woman show every time you lead a tour or host a stargazing night. And you answer the most out there questions imaginable from kids without missing a beat. You can absolutely handle a few scripted lines about your area of expertise. Unless, I mean…” She shook her head and dropped the borderline giddy excitement. “If you don’t want to do it you obviously don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you.” 

You stared at her over the top of your computer screen, face frozen in an expression of utter shock. After a few seconds had passed and you realized you hadn’t said anything, you blinked and cleared your throat. “Um… Can I think about it? And do you know like, what I’d have to do or say or…” You trailed off, circling your wrist in a so on and so forth gesture. 

Sharon nodded. “Of course! The casting director just needs to know by Friday whether you’re in or if he needs to start reaching out to other astronomers in the area. He sent me some notes about the scene you’d be in. I’ll forward them to you so you can look ‘em over.” She spoke your name then, your eyebrows raising in response. “For what it’s worth, I think you should do it.” She smiled, wrinkling her nose. “It’s not everyday someone offers you a shot to showcase the thing you’re most passionate about in front of so many people.” 

You’d opened her email as soon as she got back to her office to send it, and when you saw the name of the lead actor in the brief scene description, you nearly fell out of your chair. 

Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter fucking Bravo. 

You had to read it three times before the rest of the information sunk in. 

The scene you were being tapped for was one of the opening ones of the movie. In it, Dieter’s character, Thiago, is trying to connect with his on screen love interest’s space-obsessed kid, Jae, by bringing them to the observatory for a tour. The purpose of the scene is to drop hints at the movie’s main plot without diving straight into the action, as well as to establish the nature of the relationship between Thiago and Jae - which, from the sound of it, is the classic “this guy isn’t good enough for my mom” to “actually he’s not that bad” to “he risked his life to save mine and now he’s my family” pipeline. It involves both actors asking you questions during the Q&A portion of your scripted tour, and the whole scene is scheduled to be shot in two days, with two additional days blocked off for B-roll footage and wide shots. 

It seemed simple enough. As long as you could get over the fact that you’d be working with Dieter fucking Bravo. You let Sharon know that you were in on Wednesday of that week, two days before the director’s deadline. 

And then three months went by, the buzz of excitement growing around the observatory as the filming dates grew closer, but there was still plenty of work to keep you busy in the meantime.

But now you’re standing in front of the RMO with Sharon, watching as trailers and trucks carting everything from costumes to cameras roll into the small parking lot. It seems like an overwhelming amount of equipment and personnel for just a few days, but then again you have no idea of what is necessary to pull off a production like this one. 

Guess I’m about to find out. 

“This is so friggin’ exciting!” Sharon checks her name badge for the sixth time in half as many minutes, making sure it’s on straight. She’s beaming but trying not to explode, and you can’t help but smile. Because, yeah. It’s really friggin’ exciting. 

“I truly can’t believe this is happening, Shar.” You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head slowly as two black SUVs pull in behind where the trailers have finished setting up. “This is batshit.” 

Before Sharon can click her tongue over your choice of vocabulary, the latest arrivals emerge from their vehicles. From one comes a young actor you’ve seen in several TV shows, their face instantly lighting up at the sight of the observatory’s twin domes set against the backdrop of the hills. They turn excitedly to the two women who arrived with them - one you can tell is the kid’s mom, the other you assume is a tutor since filming is taking place during the school year - and when they turn back towards the building, their smile has nearly tripled in width and brightness, and you wonder if they don’t share the same enthusiasm for all things space-related that the character they’re portraying has. 

If so, this has got to be a dream role. Hell, they’re what, thirteen? It’s a dream role regardless.

The trio make their way up to where you and Sharon are waiting to greet them, and hands are shaken and names exchanged -  River Harmon, playing Jae and confirming your suspicion about their love of science and the stars, Marla Harmon, River’s mom who is just as eager to get inside and have a look around, and Addison Wright, River’s tutor , who reminds everyone that three hours need to be set aside each day for schoolwork. You chat for a few minutes, just small talk about the weather - hot and sunny before the clock has even hit 9 am - and River mentions the In-And-Out Burger that they passed on the way in, which you tell them is your favorite guilty pleasure in the area. 

You’re all laughing at some ridiculous pun Sharon makes regarding the term “animal style” when two more people make their way up the path. You suck in a breath and feel your stomach flip when you register Dieter standing only a few feet from you, accompanied by a petite woman carrying what appears to be a toolbox but upon closer inspection you realize is actually a bag full of hair products and grooming tools. Which makes sense - those wild and wavy curls definitely don’t tame themselves, and from the looks of it, Dieter’s go-to grooming method is just to rake his fingers through his hair. 

Not that that’s not working for him, honestly. Fuck. 

You let your eyes wash over the man in front of you for a second before the introductions are made. He’s wearing loose-fitting light green linen pants that are tied with a drawstring at the waist, paired with a peachy orange tie-dye tee and a white short sleeved button down left open. You can easily see his two signature  triangular tattoos, as well as a few hemp and thread bracelets around his wrist and several chunky rings adorning his hands. Despite the fact that summer has yet to officially start, his skin glows a sunkissed bronze hue like he’s been laying on a beach for weeks. To say he looks good is a friggin’ understatement, in Sharon’s words. 

In your own, he looks fucking incredible. A far cry from the tabloid shots that came out a few years ago, paparazzi taking terrible advantage of the fact that Dieter’s struggles with addiction were threatening his health and appearance. He looks healthier and happier than you ever remember seeing him look in interviews or on red carpets, and despite the fact that he’s still for all intents and purposes a stranger to you, you feel a sudden swell of happiness for him for working through those difficult times. 

He doesn’t remain a stranger for long, though. 

Plucking one wired earbud from his right ear, he winds the cord up and shoves it into his pocket with his phone, and then steps up next to River, his full attention on you as he slides the sunglasses he’s wearing up to sit on top of his head amidst the finger-combed curls. 

“Hi,” he says in a manner that seems far too casual when paired with the way his deep brown eyes cut right into your own. He gives you a lopsided smile and extends one bear-paw sized hand, and then he speaks your name, which catches you off guard since you haven’t given it to him yet. “I’ve seen some of the videos of your programs on YouTube,” he says as an explanation to why someone as vastly well-known as he is would know anything about you before you’d even spoken a word. “I’m Dieter.” 

You certainly are. 

He chuckles and so does River and you can feel Sharon’s second-hand embarrassment as you realize that you just said that out loud. Oh, fuck. “I mean,” you let out a huff of laughter as you wince at yourself. “It’s great to meet you, Dieter.” You meet his waiting palm with yours, his skin warm as his fingers wrap around it and give a light squeeze. “We’re all very excited to have you both -” You look pointedly at River, who smiles widely. “- here at the Rancho Mirage Observatory.” 

“Not as excited as we are to be here,” River pipes up, elbowing the man playing their on screen step-dad. “Right Dieter?” 

Dieter looks beyond you at the impressive building housing the massive telescope, and you’re struck by the look of awe on his face. “Yeah,” he states, nodding. “Sure beats the hell out of a sound stage.” 

River rolls their eyes and shoots you a look that’s brimming with adolescent snark as they throw a thumb in Dieter’s direction. “Don’t let him downplay it. He’s been going on and on about shooting at this place since we got the greenlight to come here. He’s more stoked than I am, and that’s saying something.” 

You’re not sure, it could just be the sun, but you think you catch a hint of color climbing his cheeks as Dieter spins one of his rings around his finger. “Yeah, well…” He shrugs, expression returning to neutral. “I’ve always had a thing for space.” 

River nods sagely up at him. “Because you’re from Pluto. Right. I get it.” 

That makes everyone laugh, even Dieter, who pulls River into a joke headlock and ruffles their hair, yanking their hood up over their head for good measure. “Earthlings these days,” he mutters to you, making the same thumb gesture at River that they used at him. “Can’t take ‘em anywhere.” 

You laugh, and you’re surprised at just how easily it comes in the presence of one of the most in demand actors on this or any planet. “Ah, don’t worry. We get lots of Earthlings here.” You shoot River a wink as Dieter finally lets go of their hood, and then you look back up at him. “We know how to handle their kind.” 

“Good, because I have nooooo idea.” He raises his eyebrows and swings his hands out to the sides and you’re not sure why you thought you knew what he would be like before you met him, but he’s smashing your expectations with how real he seems.And how different he is from the man depicted in the tabloids. 

Before you have a chance to respond, a man holding a clipboard and wearing a headset comes bustling over to remind Sharon about the schedule - A quick tour of the facility for the actors and crew, then time for the crew to get set while River completes their schoolwork for the day, hair and makeup for the actors, which you’re reminded includes you, and then filming - and you’re grateful for the PA whirlwind, because it gives you a chance to process the way being two feet away from Dieter’s smile is making your stomach flip. 

Get your shit together, this is work… Just work, with an insanely attractive actor who keeps smiling like that when the cameras aren’t even rolling yet. I cannot fucking believe this is happening right now. 

Thankfully you’re able to keep your inner monologue where it belongs this time, your thoughts only interrupted by the sound of Sharon clearing her throat and saying your name. “Shall we take the stars to space?”  

Oh, Sharon, you really can’t help yourself, can you?

You nod once, grinning. “Absolutely.” You’re still extraordinarily nervous about being in front of the camera. But this part? Showing earnestly interested guests around the observatory and sharing the wonders of science and space? This part you are entirely confident about. Beckoning with one arm, you cock your head toward the door. “Right this way.” 

–  –  –  

Dieter can’t remember the last time he was this excited to be on location for a job. 

Partially because it had been a long time since his dramatic roles intersected with his personal interests, and partially because there was a time period of about five years - with the Cliff Beasts debacle coming at the tail end - where remembering anything at all was almost as big a challenge as was finding enjoyment anywhere. The triple threat of cocaine addiction, isolation and depression was a hell of a hole to dig himself out of. If six feet is the depth of a grave, he was basically five and a half feet down. 

Crazy how a brush with mortality paired with the realization that his life was still worth saving can make a person want to claw their way back to the surface. And even though things with Anika hadn’t worked out long term, not a day goes by that Dieter doesn’t acknowledge that there was no way he was climbing those five and a half feet without her help. The fact that they remain friends is constant reinforcement that his worth goes well beyond his work on the screen or his talents in the bedroom or the number of zeros in his bank account. He provides her with nothing but his friendship. Nothing but himself, and it’s shown him that just himself is good enough. 

He’s even been invited to her upcoming wedding, and he has every intention of going. But that’s not for a few months still. Luckily the date is sandwiched between the end of filming for The Goldilocks Zone and the film’s premier. And with this being the only project he’s working on currently, he’s able to focus entirely on the film and then entirely on his personal life. 

First though, he’s going to focus entirely on this tour. For three reasons: One being that like he told you, he’s always had an interest in the great unknown vastness of space. The second, that he always tries to immerse himself in the world of the characters he portrays. And the last? The instant interest he’s taken in you. 

She’s fucking incredible. 

He’s already familiar with you from the videos that the RMO posted to their YouTube account. As soon as he heard that you’d agreed to take the small role, Dieter watched every single one of them, completely enthralled. Your enthusiasm was so tangibly genuine, your knowledge of astrophysics so deeply complex and your ability to explain things in ways that anyone could understand unmatched. He watched your presentation on Kepler-22b four times for crying out loud, and not because he needed that many times to absorb and digest the information. He’d watched and rewatched because it was simply that enjoyable. You made it that enjoyable. 

It didn’t hurt at all that he also happened to find you stunning. 

The five and a half feet down version of him would have tried to make a move on you before you’d even finished the tour. Hell, before you’d even started it. And though there was still a part of him that was screaming with how badly he wanted to drag you off into the domed viewing room and fuck you until you were the one seeing stars, an even bigger part was steering him in a different direction - one where he actually got to know you. 

Not just the you that was “on” for a presentation. Not just the you that engaged with River as they asked a thousand questions about the telescope and it’s range. Not just the you that worked at the RMO. From the moment he saw you standing there, from the moment his hand closed around yours and your smile widened so that it reached your eyes, Dieter found himself wanting to know the you that lay beneath your work. 

And then maybe the you that lay beneath your clothes. But that was secondary. A close secondary, sure, but secondary nonetheless. 

I wanna know more about her. 

That’s why when the tour ends and River reluctantly heads off with their mom and Addison, Dieter doesn’t retreat to his trailer like he normally would when he has downtime on set. Kylie, his stylist, does head back so she can call home and check on her wife and kids, and Sharon, flits off to her office. But you remain in the large circular room watching with interest as the crew starts rigging up the lighting and blocking off marks for the actors with different colored tape, giving him the perfect opportunity to start on that mission. 

“So, you ready for your silver screen debut?” You must have assumed that he’d gone with the rest of the group, because when he speaks, you spin to face him with a look of surprise on your face that only makes you more attractive to him. Dieter laughs, the sound a gentle one without ridicule, lifting his hands with his palms facing you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”  

You laugh at yourself, too, closing your eyes and giving a small shake of your head. “No, it’s okay, I’m just…” Another huff of almost incredulous laughter comes from your lips as you open your eyes and look straight at him. “Having a bit of a ‘pinch me’ moment, here.” 

You walk down the few steps from the base of the telescope to join him on the main level, the railing cordoning off the enormous piece of equipment between you. Dieter leans against it from his side and you do the same from yours. “Hey, I get it. I felt the same way the first time I was on set.” 

Narrowing your eyes and tilting your head, you respond with, “I think it was a little different for you, Dieter. This-” You gesture to the crew spilling in and filling up the perimeter of the room. “-isn’t exactly my wheelhouse.” 

He wants to reassure you that you’re going to do more than fine, but he’s caught up on the way his name sounds in your voice. Part of his brain jettisons off to thoughts of what it would sound like in a very different scenario. But that’s not the him in the here and now, so he clears his throat and his mind all at once. 

“Nah,” he says, bringing one hand up to scratch at his chin. “My first role had me literally shaking in my shoes. I was a little older than River. That kid is gonna be a fuckin’ star if they keep the mindset they have now, that’s for sure.” You nod, because it’s clear to anyone with eyes that the kid has their head on straight and an excellent support system to help them navigate the industry. “But me? I was a basketcase. So nervous, even though it was my dream.” He sighs. “Still get nervous sometimes.” 

That makes you widen your eyes in surprise. “Really? Mr. two-time Oscar winner gets the jitters before starting a new role?” 

“Oh yeah.” Dieter groans, shaking his head and looking down. When he lifts his chin again he finds you waiting, his own smile stretching out across his lips. “Imposter syndrome comes for us all. That bastard.” 

That pulls a laugh from the center of your chest and his first thought is how do I make that happen again? “It is a bastard, isn’t it?” You hum and Dieter nods. “Well that makes me feel a little better.” 

“Good.” He stands up straight, keeping both hands planted on the rail, and you do that same. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re gonna be great.” 

You suck in a small breath that he might have missed if he wasn’t so keyed into your every move. “Thanks, Dieter.” 

“Of course.” He taps his fingers on the railing, one of his rings clanging against the metal. “So, can I ask you a question?” 

You raise your arms to your sides, elbows bent and fingers spread. “That’s quite literally what I’m here for.” Looking over your shoulder, you gesture towards the telescope. “If it’s about this beauty right here, I can-” 

“No, it’s…” Dieter’s tongue slips out to wet his lips, warmth splashing through his chest at the way your eyes track its movement. “Not about the telescope. Though I definitely wouldn’t say no if you were just about to offer me a chance to look through it?” 

You chuckle. “I think that can be arranged, though it’ll have to wait until all these lights are gone. Or at least off. And it would have to be after dark for the best views.” 

“Seriously?” His excitement over the prospect of getting a peek into the cosmos briefly overtakes his desire to ask the question on his mind. You confirm that it would be no big deal and he takes you up on it without hesitation. “Done. Tonight?” 

You take your lower lip between your teeth for a split second and he struggles not to stare. “Sure.” 

That would be…

“Amazing.” He smiles and runs a hand through his hair. Suddenly his belly fills with the flap of a thousand monarch wings like he hasn’t felt in over a decade. It’s unusual, but refreshing, and he finds that he kind of likes it. 

I can’t get ahead of myself, though. 

Clearing your throat, you tap your fingers against the railing. “But, um, if that wasn’t your question -” You shrug one shoulder. “What is?”

Kylie comes through the door at that exact moment, calling Dieter’s name before he can answer. “Dieter? You in he- Oh. There you are.” She glances at you, and then back at him, her sharp green eyes measuring and analyzing the small amount of space between the two of you, and he sees her do her best to keep a knowing grin erupt. It doesn’t, and Dieter shoots her a look of gratitude which he knows she catches. “Sorry, but Tyler decided that we should do some promo stills while we’re here, and he wants to make use of River’s school time, so that means you need to get to hair and makeup earlier than planned. Like, now, earlier.” She adds that last part with a roll of her eyes. 

Dieter sighs. “Alright, Ky, I’ll meet you there in a minute.” 

She nods and turns to leave, sidestepping the sound engineer who is bringing in his equipment to get set up, and Dieter faces you. “Raincheck on that question?” 

You laugh. “Yeah. No problem. Ask me tonight.” 

“Oh, I will,” Dieter promises with a wink. “See you on set.” 

–  –  –

Your face hurts from smiling by the time Tyler, the director, calls a wrap on the day. 

For as nervous as you were going into your first - and likely only - acting endeavor, you end up having a fucking blast. And you know that it has a lot to do with Dieter and River being completely amazing to work with. They’re both somehow absolute professionals and class clowns, deliberately making each other laugh or flub lines a few times, but also delivering serious and convincing performances that you’re sure Tyler will have no problem selecting from. You only end up fumbling your words once, and it’s only because you’re trying to hold in a sneeze, which ultimately wins out as sneezes do. But you take Sharon’s advice and treat this like you would any other tour or presentation you’ve ever given, and since the scripted questions that Dieter and River’s characters - along with one or two of the extras in their on screen tour group - ask are right in line with the ones that you get all the time, the answers roll off your tongue easily. 

“I told you you were nervous for nothing,” Sharon says, nudging you with her elbow as the crew starts to clear out. They leave the equipment where it is since they’ll be shooting again tomorrow, but one by one the room starts to clear, everyone heading to the hotel that production has booked a few miles down the highway. 

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, the smile still stuck on your lips. “You did say that, didn’t you?” 

Sharon laughs. “I did. Hey, you want to get dinner or something to celebrate? My treat. Kevin’s home all week so he’s got the kids and I wouldn’t mind a night out.” 

Shit, I forgot to tell her about Dieter. 

“Um…” You lick your lips and return a wave to the last crew member who heads out into the main foyer. “Actually, Shar, Dieter asked if I would let him take a swing at stargazing, and I said yes. So… I mean, as long as you’re okay with it?” 

If she was beaming before she’s glowing now. “Say no more! Absolutely! You’ll lock up when you’re done?” You confirm that you will and she nods once. “Great. I’ll see if Margo from the library side is free. She’s always fun.” She shoots you a mischievous glance akin to the one she gave you when she first told you about the filming opportunity. “You have fun.” 

You try to tell her it’s not like it’s a date, he’s just genuinely curious and interested. That it’s just better for someone like him to do these sorts of things one on one because otherwise people won’t let him enjoy it. But all she does is hum an “Uh huh,” while she’s halfway out the door. 

And you’re left to wonder if you’re right. 

But you aren’t left wondering for too long, because only minutes after Sharon leaves, Dieter, looking exactly as he did when you met him earlier that day, strolls into the room. 

–  –  –  

You tell him that it will take you a few minutes to get everything set up. “Hope you don’t mind,” you add, as you start the process. 

“Mind?” He blows out a puff of air and watches your every move. “This is awesome.” 

As if to punctuate his point, the domed ceiling begins to open at that exact moment, the two sides sliding apart to reveal the night sky beyond. He tilts his head back as far as it goes to take in the sea of twinkling stars. Even without the magnifying power of the telescope, it’s a hell of a view. 

“If you think that’s awesome…” You begin adjusting the viewing lens, a small, smiling sound coming from you as you look through it. “Just wait until you get a load of…” You turn a knob, clarifying the view. “This.” 

You beckon him with one hand and he nearly trips over his feet to get there fast enough. He steps up next to you, closer than he was when the railing was between you, and that mass of butterfly wings goes fluttering through him again. And fuck if it doesn’t feel great. You move away from the scope but stay close as he bends down to take your place. “What am I looking at- Oh, shit!” 

In his field of vision floats a swirling, purplish looking galaxy with a similar shape to the Milky Way. For all the things he’s seen and places he’s traveled and experiences - both bad and good - that he’s had, this takes the cake and the cookies and the ice cream, too. It leaves him speechless and breathless and fills him with an emotion he doesn’t know how to name. 

And she gave this to me. 

You give him a few seconds to absorb it in silence, and then your voice fills his ear, his eye still pressed to the lens. “That is NGC 3031, AKA Messier 81, AKA Bode’s Galaxy.” 

You explain that the different names for it come from the three different times it was discovered and reclassified. You tell him how far away it is - approximately 11.8 million light years away from Earth - and that it can be found tucked into the constellation Ursa Major. And then you tell him it’s your favorite galaxy to show people, because it’s the clearest one that the RMO telescope can view. 

“Can you believe that it was first discovered in the 1700s?” 

He still doesn’t look away, answering you from his bent position. “I can’t believe I’m seeing it now in 20-fucking-24.” 

That pulls a laugh from you and he finally looks up, wanting to see the way that laugh changes your eyes. Tugs at your lips. Pushes your cheeks up. 

Beautiful. 

You sigh. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He hadn’t meant to speak that thought out loud but you think he’s talking about the galaxy so he lets it slide. “Gorgeous,” he confirms, about you and the view you’ve shown him. “Anything else you can show me?” 

That laugh he’s starting to crave slips out again as you answer. “Yeah, Dieter, I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve, hang on.” You motion for him to step aside so you can reposition the scope. As you’re doing that, you bring up your conversation from earlier. 

“Hey, um, what was that question you wanted to ask me?” You shake your head, still making your adjustments. 

“Oh, it’s just…” He shrugs even though you’re not looking at him. “Something I ask people sometimes when I meet them. Kind of like an ice breaker I guess?” 

You step back and let him take another look - this time a gaseous nebula in hues of gold and green - giving him some time to soak it in before expecting him to continue. 

“I uh - fuck, this is cool! I…” He looks up briefly, finding your face. “Do you believe in aliens?” 

It’s clearly not what you were expecting him to ask based on the expression you wear, but much to his delight this time, you don’t laugh. “I do.” 

His heart flips like a gold medalist at the admission. Smart, sexy, and believes in aliens, holy shit. “You do?” 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” Shrugging, you go on, stepping in to readjust the scope again. “Everything I’ve studied or seen suggests that the universe is far too big for us to ever really understand. And we already know that there are planets that theoretically could support life.” You gesture for him to look again, this time it’s the stormy, reddish orange patterns of Jupiter. “And as special as Earth is, I just don’t believe we’re so special that we’re the only ones out there. I mean, that’s what the movie is about, right?” 

“Yeah. Well, it’s about aliens looking for other habitable planets and finding Earth, so sort of the reverse of what NASA and whoever are doing. But… Yeah.” 

You smile. “So, do you?” 

“Believe in aliens?” He leans back against the railing. “Yeah.” He smiles. “Same reason as you. We’re not that special.” She is, though. She’s out of this fucking world special.

You hum. “Cool. Good to know we agree.” 

“Yeah,” Dieter takes a breath, filling his chest and letting the dizzy happiness you’ve given him take over. “This might be a long shot, I know it’s getting kind of late, but… Do you want to go get dinner or something?” 

You press your lips together like you’re trying to suppress a smile. It doesn’t work, and it’s the best sight he’s seen all night. “Okay.” You start shutting things down, pressing the button that closes the ceiling and shuts the sky away. “How do you feel about In-And-Out? I’ve been craving it since River brought it up and-” 

This woman is what dreams are fucking made of. 

Thankfully - at least for now - he keeps that part in his head. 

“I feel like you just read my mind. Let’s go.” 

--- --- ---

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to or removed from my tag list, please feel free to send me a message or fill out the form on my masterlist! :)

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@jessthebaker @ael_xander

[luwritesomething]

Billy Loomis x Reader: even the strong ones break.

Words: 1315

Warnings: bad parenting, swearing probably, not proofread, i can’t remember lol

Summary:    It was the first time ever you had seen Billy cry, and it was certainly shocking to see him fall apart so miserably, but that wasn’t stopping you from trying to make him feel better. He had been strong for a while now, and everyone needed a break from time to time, even Billy Loomis.

Author's note: OKAY SO MY SCREAM OBSESSION IS STILL STANDING, and i’ve been writing in ao3 instead of in here because i wanted to get away from my responsabilities and numerous dodge mason & wednesday show request. sorry, i got overwhelmed, but i’m back, and i’m bringing all of my pieces in ao3 with me. here you go. you can find the link to ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39896499

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea! The list for the characters I write is HERE.

Your head hurt from reading with a bad light for too long. The simplicity in the beauty of reading every night before going to sleep had taken you a bit too far, but what could you say? You weren’t giving up on reading just because of a light headache, you were strong enough to handle it.  

Still, you had enough for tonight and you decided to put your current read aside in order to already go to sleep. Your eyelids felt too heavy to continue and you could be stubborn, but not dumb enough to fall asleep while reading in an uncomfortable position that would have you complaining the next day. Your arm reached out for the switch next to your bed, turning the lights off after you had gotten in bed, ready to get some good quality sleep. It was perfect: the bed felt nice, your pillow was cold, the sheets were smooth against your skin, it wasn’t too hot nor too cold in your room and there were some nice, comforting sounds outside the window.

There were noises outside your window. You jumped out of the bed once your brain was able to process the fact, without needing to wonder who it could be. Stu had never snuck through your window, which didn’t sound that weird knowing he didn't have what it took to speak softly after sneaking into your room — Billy, however, was all about crawling through your bedroom’s window and being secretly soft. He had justified his passion for sneaking in with the adrenaline of maybe getting caught, but you also knew it kinda had to do with the quick of energy he got whenever he saw you. 

You unlocked your window as fast as you could and opened it, immediately stepping aside to let Billy sneak in, knowing he would need no help to do so. He had become a real expert with that, and that’s the reason why your alarms got set off when you saw how Billy almost tripped with his feet once he was in your room. 

“Well, it’s dark in here.” He said, and even his voice sounded off. More dry and less playful than usual. “Were you sleeping?”

“I was about to,” you shrugged before turning around to switch the lights on. Once there was light, you carefully glanced at him, noticing the exhaustion and anger on his face. “Everything alright, Billy?”

Billy nodded, looking away. “Yeah. Just got bored from the fighting, that’s all.”

Of course, that was the reason why he was acting so strangely. It had taken Billy an eternity to confess his parents had been fighting a lot lately, and he was a worse actor than he thought he was — since he had opened up, all the signs of him acting different instantly gave away how hurt he felt, even though neither you or Stu thought he would ever admit it. Billy was too proud for that, but you sometimes just wished he would let his pride aside.

“Can I—?” Billy’s voice broke before he could finish his question. You immediately looked at him, alarmed and shocked when you discovered tears in Billy’s cold eyes. He looked as vulnerable as he did annoyed with himself. “Fuck!”

“Hey…” You walked up to him and put your hand to his arm, not wanting to overwhelm him. The physical contact actually made him sob and break down in furious tears, but you knew it wasn’t your fault “Oh, Billy”

You pulled him in for a hug, comfortably wrapping your arms around him. Billy leaned into your touch, incapable of stopping his crying as you tried to comfort him and ground him. It was the first time ever you had seen Billy cry, and it was certainly shocking to see him fall apart so miserably, but that wasn’t stopping you from trying to make him feel better. He had been strong for a while now, and everyone needed a break from time to time, even Billy Loomis. 

“It’s so bad, Y/N,” sobbed Billy, pressing his head into your shoulder. “They’re filing for divorce”

You caressed his black hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “I’m so sorry, Billy.” Your hand traveled to his back, rubbing circles there.

Billy shook in your arms, and you guessed it was anger. If you had learned something about him during the last months was the amount of fury and anger he had inside him, a type of anger not even football allowed him to break out from. He snapped from time to time, snickering and saying things he regretted later, and he would bottle up his feelings and hide them in the darkest place — Stu had told you to get used to it. You just thought it was sad —. Being able to see him like that was kind of comforting, knowing he wasn’t holding back from his feelings anymore, but it was also terribly painful, because it showed how much he was hurting and that hurt you too.

“Talk to me, Billy.” You murmured, holding him tightly to make sure he knew you were there for him.

He shook with his head, and you mentally cursed his mentality of keeping everything to himself. As he kept shaking, you kept stroking his hair and drawing grounding circles on his back. You didn’t make him move until he had kept shaking, pulling him slightly away from you to check how he was, to see into his soul through his truthful eyes. 

Billy had stopped crying, no more tears were coming out of his dark eyes, but he kept sobbing like a kid who had fallen while riding his bike. Your hand came to his face to cup his cheek, lovingly caressing the clear skin with your thumb.

“Stay for the night.” The whisper came out of your lips without you having to think about it, and Billy instantly nodded, looking away. He hated that you were seeing him like that.

The hand that was cupping his face fell to his hand, so you could carefully grab it and guide him to your bed. Billy joined you in the bed once you had already laid down, and it surprised you when instead of laying down next to you, he crawled towards you and found a space for himself in between your thighs, finally laying down with his head pressing against your chest. Half Billy’s weight was on you, but thanks to the way he had laid down it was definitely manageable. Stu was the one who did that, claiming the space between your thighs, while Billy usually played the role of the big spoon by your side. 

“Hey, Billy,” you muttered through his infinite sobs, muffled by his head pressed against his chest. Still, you knew he was listening to you. “I love you. A lot, okay? You know that, right?”

In sync with a sob, Billy nodded his head. You didn’t need for him to say it back, not at that moment at least. But you guessed he really needed it to hear it from you, and you guessed right. 

Billy’s sobs grew quieter with the time passing, but you kept holding him and playing with his head in order to distract him. You could still, from time to time, hear a muffled sob that let you know he hadn’t still cried himself to sleep. It actually took you some moments to realize he had fallen asleep when he did, but the way he breathed calmly and heavily and the silence gave it away after some minutes. Only when you were completely sure Billy wouldn’t wake up, you reached your arm out to switch the lights off again, this time ready to sleep. Before closing your eyes, you leaned in to kiss Billy’s forehead, murmuring again the words i love you, wondering if he could hear it in his sleep.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Exposed

Summary: Bond has to make a decision about someone he loves. 

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Oh my dear lovelies, oh sweethearts. I AM SO SORRY for going dark.

As some of you may have read from my last announcement, things got a bit hectic when my mom was in the hospital. It was a scary and crazy experience, she basically became paralyzed from her chest down. I’m talking about an extremely active woman who was on her feet working 10-12 hour days to not being able to move at all. 

We had to rush her to emerge and find out she had contracted some rare bacteria that affected her spine. Needless to say she was in the hospital for a month, and finally was discharged about three weeks ago and is now staying at my brothers. Which is great for her since he has a bungalow and makes it easier for her to move around as she’s learning to walk again. However, that does mean we have to travel a bit to visit her and take care of her when my brother and his family can’t. 

Anyway ... long story short, too late. I am back, I am going to try to catch up on some of our lovely stories. I also have a special surprise for you guys, which I’ll upload sometime this week. I’m currently working on Crosshair’s section of the Gym Membership and then SOTF, the Reunion and Upside Down, and I’m also going to be working on a one-off request that I received. Keep your eyes peeled for those. 

Thank you all for sticking around, for sending me love, and for checking up on me, you have all been super amazing and wonderful. 

A special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles​ and @ulchabhangorm​ for being my beta readers. Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, blindfolded, smoking, prisoners, cages, feelings of mistrust, bleeding, injury, I think that’s it, if I miss anything please let me know. 

AO3 Link   |   DC Characters Master List   |   Main Master List

The blindfold covering Bond’s eyes finally started to slip down after hours of the corrosive material rubbing against his eyelids, but if this little irritant put him off from his mission, he shouldn’t’ve been able to call himself a double O. 

It been more than three hours, closing on four, since he’d gotten into the first vehicle and the fabric was placed on his eyes. Since then, he’d been moved to two subsequent vehicles, each more uncomfortable then the one previous.

They were travelling across increasingly bumpier roads, from the cobble stones they started out on, to the rural roads he deduced they were currently on. With each bump he felt the rough material scrape across his skin, there was no doubt his eyelids would be rubbed raw by the end of the journey. 

Despite the increasing discomfort, he focused his attention on what was happening around him. 

As the car began to slow down, he expected a gentle stop, of course that was before his whole body shifted forward violently. He would’ve hit the seat in front of him, if he hadn’t engaged his core muscles doing his best to remain upright as the driver slammed on the brakes. He shifted himself back against the seat, as another vehicle slowly approached them.

The car that had been stifling since he’d been shifted into it, finally received a breath of fresh air, as he felt a rush of wind blow across his face and hair when the door flung open. 

Someone grabbed his arm with force, shifting him forcibly from his seat. This wasn’t his first clandestine meeting he attended, yet every time they always decided to yank the blindfolded person from a vehicle; come to think of it, he was guilty of that as well. There was an inherent expectation that the one blindfolded wouldn’t fall, and would be able to follow the silent instructions. 

Maybe just for fun, the next time he was going to fall to the ground just to throw them off, and chuckle at hearing them become all flustered. 

There was an eerie silence that seemed to hang in the air as he got out of the car, it wasn’t necessarily threatening or dangerous per se, but a seemingly tense atmosphere between the two drivers themselves, maybe an affair of the heart, or simply rivals for one thing or other. He concluded he was being transferred to yet another vehicle, as his guide pushed him forward, hopefully this would be the last vehicle transfer before arriving at his destination. 

His guide kicked his left foot, trying to push it up onto a ledge, he didn’t need much prodding as he stepped up doing his best to gain some form of balance, when he was shoved into the seat. There was no doubt it was an older truck, the cracked leather seats felt as though thousands of tiny pins were poking his butt as he shifted to find a somewhat comfortable spot. 

It didn’t take long to get them on the road again, the further they drove on, the more he was able to determine their heading. The bumps in the road had started to appear less and less, instead it became increasingly dusty from what he could gather as he breathed in more dust from the air vents. The noise from the city vanished completely and replaced by the sound of trees rustling in the breeze and birds squawking from above. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t passed another vehicle in the past thirty minutes, which could only mean they were in an even more isolated area then they had been previously.

The truck shifted gears as it began to slow down, the driver turning ever so gently before he decided to slam on the brakes, lurching him forward once again. He was seriously thinking about talking to whoever taught these guys how to drive. He was trying to brace himself before hitting the dash, only to be pushed back this time into his seat by his guide’s forearm; he wasn’t sure but there was a high probability he would have a bruise on his chest later. At least he could say there was some concern about his safety, relatively speaking.

The relative peace that had surrounded him was now replaced by the sound of various footsteps rushing towards the truck, when the door flung open.

“Get out!” The voice demanded without any further explanation or care. Either from the person’s lack of English or simply they didn’t wish to expand more than the two words because of the unbearable heat beating down against them, the breeze that he had enjoyed was now a distant memory. It hadn’t been so bad in the truck as they drove on their way, but now that it was idle, the lack of breeze, the humidity, and the sun bearing down on them started to feel stifling.  

Though he still couldn’t see much as he moved out of the truck, he was able to see something through the fabric covering his eyes, from the small opening provided by the shift of the blindfold. It was mostly outlines of objects, shapes that provided a hint as to what he was seeing against the bright sun and bluish-grey sky. 

He took in a deep breath, there was a hint of salt in the air brushing against his tongue as he licked his lips; so they’d been travelling closer to the sea. Possibly the Pacific Ocean side as the air wasn’t as salty compared to the Atlantic. The thickness from the rustling of the trees was no mistake they were somewhere dense, either near the border of the forest, or just on the edges of an abandoned village. 

The humidity surrounding him, simply reaffirmed his suspicions, it was thick and suffocating. They had driven closer to the coastline.

Someone grabbed his arm pushing him foward, he could hear sounds of people moving around him, out of his and his guide’s way. Not completely disappearing simply moving off to the side, as they whispered among themselves. He could feel eyes analyzing and scrutinizing his every move, waiting for an opportunity to strike, despite his hands still being restrained. 

As he walked along, his foot bounced off the corner of a box he estimated as best he could from the sound and movement of what he hit. His theory was confirmed as his guide shoved him down onto the seat. He adjusted himself as best he could, as someone cut the zip-ties binding his hands, seconds after his wrists felt sweet relief, his blindfold was yanked off without any concern. 

It took him a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, probably could’ve been worse if his blindfold hadn’t slipped, allowing his eyes to adjust even just a little.

“Bienvenido Señor Bond” the thick Spanish accent coming from the heavyset woman sitting in front of him. The structure in front of him, if he could call it that, provided enough shade for her and her table, leaving the rest of her people and Bond to experience the full heat of the sun. The air was filled with the smell of the cheap cigars she was smoking, the smell flowing over and encapsulating him, making him want to eliminate whoever invented those foul-smelling cheap cigars as he held back the bile that was rising.

He left off a light cough, doing his best to be his most charming self possible, “I’m grateful for the meeting Señora, it’s truly a pleasure to be in front of so much beauty ”

“A great pleasure as well, Señor Bond, I understand you are looking for information” she took a long drag from her cigar, the ashes flicking off in the breeze and creating more of the nasty smell. 

Bond nodded “As a gratitude for giving me the opportunity for this meeting” he motioned to the man beside him who had been carrying his bag, the same man he met in the city before they started off on the long voyage to the middle of nowhere, he must have been in the vehicles with him each time he transferred or travelled ahead of him, “a small fee to show my appreciation for the inconvenience this has caused you.” 

The man, loomed over them as he stepped closer, as tall and broad as he was, the man barely made a sound as he gently placed the bag in front of her. 

She eyed Bond, not saying anything as she took an even longer drag of her cigar, she motioned to one of her subordinates to open the case revealing it full of money.

“American?” She asked as the smoke exhaled through her mouth and nose.

“Of course”

She took another puff “What is the information?”

“Several days ago, a man travelled through the area with a backpack”

“There are many men who travel through this area with backpacks, Señor”

“Of course, however, I believe he is a guest of your wonderful facilities, currently” he motioned towards the rundown prisons, well what appeared to be prisons. They were mere barriers out in the open, simply branches tied together with rope, to form cages to keep the unwanted contained. 

She simply shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She motioned with her cigar towards Bond, “Do you have a picture of this man?”

Without a word he pulled out a 4 x 6 picture of the man from his pocket. One of the requirements of meeting her was no technology was allowed. No cell phone. No laptop. No tablet. Nothing that could connect him to the outside world. 

Despite the oddity, it didn’t really matter to him why she was being extremely cautious, all he cared about was the reason he was there. He passed the picture to her aide who was waiting to receive the image, she leaned over taking a long look at the picture, taking another drag nodding slowly in agreement.

“You are correct, Señor Bond, this man is indeed one of our guests of our, as you say, wonderful facilities.”

Bond couldn’t help smirk at this fool’s misfortune, frankly he could care less about the predicament he found himself in, “I hope he’s enjoying his stay then, what I’m more interested in, is the backpack this man had with him.”

She hummed as she took another drag, the smoke flaring out of her nostrils, “Was there something special in this backpack?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the man sitting in front of her, “If there was something my men overlooked…” her eyes narrowing on two men who were standing off to the side, as her anger flared along with her nostrils towards her men, “I would be very disappointed.”

James knew better than to show his hand, after all it wasn’t anything that was obvious to the untrained eye, “Not in the least, the backpack is in fact mine. The man stole it from me, and I simply wish to reclaim it back.”

Another hum from the woman followed his statement, as she took a final drag of her cigar, putting it out on an overfilled ashtray.

“Why so much money to simply retrieve what was stolen?”

“There is a copy of a book that was given to me by my late wife, it was the last gift she gave me before she passed away; it means the world if I was able to get it back.”

She called over one of her men, whispering to him, careful to not let her conversation be overheard. Within seconds the man brought the dull beige backpack, still intact, at least from what Bond could tell.

“Would you mind if I confirm it’s contents, I would hate for anything to be missing or for the book to have been lost”

She motioned for him to stand, as her men surrounded Bond from all areas, their eyes watching his every move. He opened it fully, the clothes neatly stacked on top, a dog eared book of ‘How to Kill a Mockingbird’ sitting there, along with a toiletry bag, he opened it seeing a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and shaving cream. 

“As you can see there is nothing special in this bag, except for the book. This was the book she left me before …” his hand caressed the book tenderly, before he zipped up the bag, looking as undisturbed as before, retaking his seat on the crate. 

“It appears so” her voice was weary.

“Thank you for retrieving my belongings, I would like to compensate you of course, for your troubles.” He put his hands inside his pockets, pulling out two stacks of a hundred American dollars placing them on the table in front of her, “There’s about $20,000 here, as a personal thank you.”

“Señor Bond you are quite good at making friends” she smirked as she slowly picked up the bundles, “Ernesto will take you back to the village. If you ever need my services again, I am more than happy to help.”

“Señora” Bond bowed, giving her his whimsical smile, as he followed Ernesto back to the truck, he sat down the backpack in between his legs, as he was blindfolded once again for the long journey back. 

- - - - - - - - - - - 

The book lay beside Q’s laptop as it’s front pastedown was peeled back, leaving only the indent of a microchip in its wake.

“Q, is the information compromised or not?” Mallory was annoyed as the youngish technician appeared to be taking his time with providing answers that he desperately needed.

“Don’t worry” Bond intervened, “Q’s probably confirming for the third time before he gives us any answers. You know how annoyingly diligent he can be.”

Q focused his attention back on the computer screen doing his best to ignore the comments; however he knew no amount of rechecking would change the answer that laid before him. He leaned back after reading the information for the third time, “Only one identity was compromised”

“Why aren’t you more concerned!” Mallory’s patience was at an end.

“Because it was compromised two weeks ago”

Silence filled the room, as the weight of what was discovered sunk in; the identity of their undercover agent was already revealed, the chances they were still alive were remote if even possible. 

Mallory leaned against the desk, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’d prided himself on doing all he could for his agents, there would always be deaths in this field that was inevitable, but he always wanted to make sure they knew they weren’t alone. They had support, backup, as much as he was able to offer. 

“Who was it?” Mallory mumbled out as his eyes closed tightly, trying his best to squeeze out the shame and guilt he felt. No one realized there'd been a breach, until it was too late, and then finding out who breached their network, how it was breached took even more time. He failed them, and nearly had others killed. 

Q glanced from Mallory to Bond, a heaviness rested in his chest, the next words he was about to utter would change his friend’s life forever. He focused back on the computer, maybe he was wrong, maybe it was a different person with a similar name and same date of birth, who just happened to have taken over the same undercover name. After all he’s made mistakes before, this could just be one of those unfortunate blunders, it would be better to keep this between Mallory and himself, “Maybe we should …” Q was about to say ‘discuss this in private,’ when Bond cleared his throat.

“Q … say it” James wanted to be wrong, he wanted the name that popped into his head, the moment Q said an identity had been leaked, to be different from the name Q was getting ready to say. 

“007 …”

“Q. Say. It.” James’ voice was tense, his eyes focused on Q’s, taking notice of every twitch, the number of blinks, even every bead of sweat on Q’s face, it all told him a story. Told him to expect the worse. 

Q took the time to focus on Bond’s demeanour, there was no way around it. He wanted to know and no amount of coaxing or trying to pull the old ‘need to know’ routine would stop him. If he didn’t provide him with the information, he’d just break into his computer later and look for it himself, and the last thing Bond needed was a charge of treason. He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes trying to calm the unpleasant dreary sensation in his heart. He nibbled on his bottom lip, hoping the numbing sensation would make it easier to say what he needed to, “It’s J, 007.”

“When did J …”

“J was recalled to active duty a year ago, specifically for this assignment.”

James could feel his heart racing, his blood pumping faster, he could feel beads of sweat being to form and climbing its way down his spine. 

The sun was breaking in through the window as James watched you sleep, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, as you scrunched your nose, trying to remove whatever irritated you, mumbling in your sleep. He’d been up for almost an hour, after he had the same nightmare yet again. He knew he should’ve woken you up, whenever he had the dream of your death, it was only you that could ease the pain in his heart; however this time just watching you sleep, peacefully, calmed his heart. It was a sense of peace and tranquility that filled him just lying there beside you. He did his best to memorize every millimetre of your face, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a single freckle or blemish on your face. In that moment, as he lay beside you, he knew. Truthfully, he had known since the moment you walked into his life, but in that moment he knew he wasn’t going to run away from what he felt, he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the issue anymore. You were the one. You were the missing piece of his life. In that moment, he wanted to wake you up, and ask you to marry him. 

He felt Mallory’s eyes on him pulling him back to the present, as M looked between Q and himself. He was trying to quell the coldness enveloping him completely, James’ fists clenched by his side as a thousand different scenarios ran through his head. This wasn’t the first time you were in a crunch, but at least then he was by your side. 

You pressed into your side, praying and hoping to stop the bleeding as James provided cover. Things were looking bleak for the both of you, you were down to maybe five rounds, your extra magazine used and spent. Bond had taken one of your pursuers guns but even then, he was running low. 

“Okay, I bought us a few minutes” he rushed out, controlling his breathing as best he could. His eyes glanced over doing his best to assess your situation. “What do you say? Ready to make a run for it?”

You could only chuckle and offer a weak smile as he grabbed your arm, but you knew the chances of both of you making it out were slim, especially with your wound that didn’t want to close. The bullet was still in there, and pressing against your ribs. You grabbed his shirt with all the strength you had left, pulling him towards you, kissing him deeply one last time. 

James was shocked at first but didn’t hesitate as he deepened the kiss, you didn’t have to tell him, he already knew what you were thinking. This was your goodbye kiss, you were going to tell him to run and to leave you there to cover his escape; but there was no way he was going to do that, his hand shifted from the side of your face, he slowly flexed his wrist, popping out the the tiny dart Q had mounted into his watch before the mission,  and pressed it against your neck. 

As you felt the prick in your neck, you pulled back and pressed your hand against your neck, “Wha… wha… whhh…”

James watched as your eyes slowly closed and your head fell against his shoulder, “Sorry love” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t lose you.” He picked you up, and carried you to the extraction point, doing his best to stay ahead of the assailants.

Now wasn’t the time to panic, he needed as much information as he could gather, “Is it possible to contact J? Confirm in some way that J’s still alive?”

“J’s locator is no longer active. Even the communicator I gave is turned off. All the designated escape rendezvous arranged previously haven’t been used. There is one possibility, give me a minute, I’ll check …” Q’s words trailed off into nothingness as he focused his attention back on his computer.

Mallory stood from his position, it was not the time to be wallowing in self-deprecation. 007 looked as though someone punched him in the gut, or ripped out his heart. Not to mention, there was the possibility of an agent out there on their own for the past two weeks, that could very well need his help.

“You know this … J … personally?” Mallory asked keeping his voice low, as he subtly moved 007 away from Q allowing the genius to do his job.

“More or less” Bond responded, although he heard his voice answer Mallory, it didn’t feel like it was him that was actually talking.

“Meaning?”

“She’s my fiancé …” Mallory looked shocked for a second, before he was able to control his features once again; Bond didn’t draw attention to it, nor did he appear to really be paying attention to what he was saying at that moment. 

James looked around the room, making sure everything was perfect. The candles were lit, your favourite meal was on the dining room table, along with your favourite flowers. He was wearing the navy blue suit you loved, it was the one he wore when you first met, you always told him that image always lived in your memory. He felt for the ring box in his breast pocket. The nerves building as the thought of what he was about to do started to sink in. He always swore he’d never get involved with anyone again after Vespa, but you slowly broke down his walls, and pushed your way into his heart, and before he knew it here he was getting ready to propose to you. Now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

Something pulled James back from where his mind went, maybe it was the fact Q had stopped typing, or just having faith that J’d be okay, and there was no need to be lost in what-ifs. He cleared his throat, straightening and adjusting his tie, “Former. My former fiancé from years past.”

You stood on the street, as the rain pelted down soaking your and James’ clothes straight through. Your tears were welling up as your throat ached from the fight the both of you just had, James was doing his best to hold it together, seeing how much in pain you were from something he did. 

“I’m sorry! But you know this job … this life …”

Your fingers clenched around your engagement ring, “You promised me we would leave. We would both walk away from this job, from everything!”

James ran his hands over his face, “You know how difficult it can be …”

“Oh shut up! You claim to love me, you claim to I’m the one you want to be with, but if that was true you wouldn’t hesitate. Just admit James, you simply don’t want to be with me!”

“How can you say that? I’m here fighting to be with you!”

“Then leave! Leave with me!”

“You know I can’t. Not right now.”

“If you don’t leave now, you’ll lose me”

James closed the distance between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

You didn’t want to walk away, not from him; but if he wasn’t ready to make the commitment you weren’t sure you could wait around until he was ready. You had already waited five years just to be with him, and now just when you thought everything was finally coming together, it was all falling apart. 

Your hand slowly stroke his cheek, you brushed your lips against his pulling him closer. He didn’t wait or hesitate, he reciprocated making sure the kiss was as passionate and intimate, James didn’t want to think this was the final kiss he could ever give you. 

You pulled away, taking his hands in yours, you pulled off the ring and placed it in his hand. “I can’t do this when you’re not ready. I’m sorry.”

That was all you said as you left him standing there, James just watched you walk away, not sure of how to fix this.

Mallory didn’t say much, simply nodding his head. He knew the affairs of the heart all to well, he wasn’t going to pry into Bond’s past no matter how sorely he was tempted, “Are you able to handle this?”

James turned his head and locked eyes with Mallory, “Are you?”

“Very well, 007.”

Both regained their focus and steadied their nerves, Q looked up as he felt their gazes on him, he adjusted his glasses as he reviewed the information, “I triple checked all morgues, hospitals, law enforcement announcements, even underworld bounties, and I can neither confirm nor deny J’s alive … or dead.”

“Pardon me?” Mallory stated as his hand hitched on his waist, his anger needing an outlet. Not only had they been breached, but it appears it was a targeted breach against one particular agent that didn’t seem to have raised any red flags in their assignment. 

Q adjusted his glasses, not bothering to look at the very annoyed and confused expressions that no doubt rested on both of their faces, “If J were dead there would be a report of either an unidentified body, J’s undercover name or J’s real name, and if that wasn’t going to happen, then there would be a police report about a body found or a … piece found. However there’s nothing. There’s still a pretty large bounty on J, 750,000 euros. Which tells me two things, one - J escaped before the identity was revealed. Now how J knew the cover was blown, I couldn’t possibly guess. However, that brings me to number two, as of right now J’s escaped the clutches of whoever put the bounty. Otherwise, it would’ve been removed, not to mention there would be some form of notice on the dark web.”

“Okay that means J’s likely alive, but you said you weren’t sure about J’s death?”

“Well they could have found J and kept the bounty up to keep us thinking J’s alive when that isn’t the case. They could also be torturing J for information …”

Bond held up his hand, “Okay we get.”

“If J’s captured, then there’s nothing we can do.”

The air in the room went frigid, as Bond slowly turned his head to look at Mallory, “There’s always something we can do” his voice was terse as he addressed Mallory.

“I’m sorry 007, but you know the rules better than anyone. Captured and you’re on your own; MI6 will disavow all knowledge regarding your existence and activity. If J’s caught, there’s simply nothing I can do.”

The tension between the two seasoned men started to grow, one due to the power and position he held, limiting his ability to help an agent in need, the second due to his own feelings and sense of duty to the one who had held his heart far longer than anyone else since Vespa. 

Q held up his hand, “Before you two get into a testosterone filled match to decide which of you is bigger, I found something”

“Surprised you didn’t just wait till after” Bond smirked, appreciating the fact he could always tease Q no matter what the situation called for.

“I was tempted, but this is more pressing. I found a … as best I can describe it, some sort of distress code, on a back channel that hasn’t been used for a while.”

“What does it say?” Mallory was beginning to have doubts about this agent; first, why was only J’s identity that was revealed? Secondly, how did J survive? 

“Need extraction. No response in two weeks. Will go dark. Heima. J out.”

“When was this posted?” James hand clenched by his side, something wasn’t right. Heima referred to their home they were planning on building in Milford Sound, the remotest area of New Zealand.

“Sixteen days ago”

“J already went dark.”

“Question” Mallory couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “If she was able to escape why didn’t she come back in? Why wait to get an extraction? Why wait to hear back? And why was J’s identity the only one that was leaked?”

Bond turned to look at Mallory, “Are you questioning J’s loyalty?”

“It does raise some concerns” Q offered reluctantly.

“I know J!”

“It bears some consideration, 007” Bond didn’t need to hear this anymore, he grabbed the equipment Q had laid out for his next mission; ignoring Q’s comment.

“Where do you think you’re going, 007?” Mallory was about to stop him but thought better of it.

“Heima” was all James said as he walked out.

Mallory looked at Q waiting for an answer, he simply shrugged, adjusting his glasses, “Did you expect anything less? I mean …” Q motioned with his hand to the door Bond exited, “Really?”

Mallory smirked, running his hand down his face, “Let me know when he finds J.”

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[koushisbabie]

UWU I HONESTLY YOUR WORK SO MUCH this is my first time on this app so I don’t really know much about it ! Thank you for putting so much effort in every post ,can I request sugawara x reader (how he would react when you keep biting your lip out of anxiety until it bleed ,cause lately I have been doing it a lot

Sorry because my English is not very good anyway HAVE A GREAT DAY ❤️❤️

Oh my gosh I am so sorry I completely forgot I got this request. Thank you for requesting a fic, and thank you for the compliment, you are so sweet T_T Comments like this give me the motivation to write more and get more creative with my ideas. In saying that, I hope your anxiety and your lip biting has gotten better <3 I don't know if you're still active on here, but I've written a small drabble (it ended up long haha) here for you! I hope you like it <3

‘Yo, Suga!’

Suga’s head appears from behind the precariously stacked wall of books on the library table. ‘Yes?’

‘Geez, isn’t that overdoing it?’ Asahi chuckles, gesturing to the books.

‘Well, I guess so,’ Suga replies, ‘but exams are only a week away.’ He shuffles aside some of the haphazardly strewn books and papers and pens, giving Asahi and Daichi space to sit down.

‘Where’s Yn?’ Daichi asks, peering around.

‘She’s around,’ Suga replies, ‘I think she went to the bathroom…’

‘I’m right here!’ Yn pops their head around the shelves. ‘I’ve been looking for this damn book for twenty minutes now.’

‘Oh yeah, looks like a long read.’

‘Can’t be helped,’ Yn says, sitting down next to Suga. ‘Tuesday’s exam is going to kick my ass if I don’t absorb this entire book.’

‘Take it easy, Yn,’ Daichi says. ‘You look a little tired, have you been sleeping alright?’

Suga glances at Daichi, then at Yn.

‘Well, yeah, kind of,’ Yn replies, nudging Suga’s arm affectionately. ‘Usually after we call.’

‘Which reminds me, I need to send you the link to this video that explains chapter eight in a bit more detail,’ Suga says absentmindedly. ‘It’s forty five minutes long but there’s some good illustrations in it that highlight how complex–’

‘You guys seem busy,’ Asahi interjects politely. ‘We should be heading off, we’ll tell the others that you’re studying this afternoon.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay,’ Yn says, glancing at their phone. ‘I actually forgot I promised I’d be home to receive a package later.’

‘You’re leaving already?’

‘Sorry,’ Yn says, ‘I’ll call you tonight, though? We can go through the last of these notes together!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Suga replies, squeezing Yn’s hand before turning back to his notes.

Yn hesitates, before gathering their things and disappearing between the aisles of books.

An awkward silence falls between the friends, before Daichi pipes up.

‘Hey, Suga, did you see how red Yn’s lips were?’

Suga looks up from his notes, his pen paused above the paper. ‘You noticed it, too?’

‘It wasn’t subtle…’ Asahi says, quietly. ‘To be honest, I think they had been bleeding.’

‘Bleeding?’ Suga’s face fills with shock. ‘I didn’t realise it was that bad. I thought it was just sunburn.’

Daichi and Asahi share a look.

‘Okay,’ Daichi says sternly. ‘I see what’s going on. You’re too focused on your studying, you’ve neglected Yn. Maybe you should put the books away and spend some quality time with them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Suga asks, a little hurt.

‘Daichi’s right… I think Yn is really stressed. A lot of lip biting is caused by anxiety… I haven’t seen it that bad before, and I’ve known them for years.’

Suga pauses thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. The books could wait.’

‘We just mean–’

‘I have an idea,’ Suga says, grinning. ‘Thank you for slapping some sense into me.’

Yn arrives home sweating and tired, the heavy books in their bag weighing painfully on their back. They abandon the bag in the hallway and head to the bathroom, the light soft against their skin. They peer at their lips, swollen like a blossoming red rose. The urge to bite is strong, the pain satisfying momentarily distracts them from the bubbling anxiety in their belly.

Exams were only a week away but with the high percentage of worth the marks carry, anxiety had been slithering throughout the schools hallways like a giant snake stalking its prey, following students home so they could not find respite, even in their beds.

A knock at the door sounds loud and urgent.

As Yn pulls the door open, Suga almost drops the stack of books in his arms and the bags at his elbows.

‘Oh, Yn!’ Suga grins. ‘Mind if I come in?’

‘Of course,’ Yn says, bewildered. ‘Let me help you.’

In the living room, Yn places the stack of books on the coffee table, wondering how Suga could manage getting through them all with practice almost every afternoon. Despite being as passionate about volleyball as the others, he could somehow find the time to study when he really wants to.

‘So,’ Yn says, falling into the crease of the soft couch, ‘what brought you here?’

Suga glances at them, his mouth in a small frown, the creases between his brows knitted. ‘Look,’ he begins, ‘I have noticed that you’ve been a little… out of sorts, lately.’

Yn frowns, fidgeting in their lap with their fingers.

‘I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re less than beautiful, by the way!’ Suga says quickly, placing his hands on either side of Yn’s face.

Yn’s cheeks begin to flush. ‘What do you mean?’ They squeak.

Suga hesitates. ‘You’re doing it right now –’ Suga pauses, pointing at Yn’s lips, ‘you’re biting your lip too much!’

Yn swallows hard. ‘Oh. I hoped you wouldn’t notice.’

Suga smiles softly. ‘It took me a few moments to really see it.’ He hesitates. ‘I was too focused on studying, when I should have been looking out for you. I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s okay!’ Yn blushes. ‘You’re here now! And it’s just anxiety, I mean, it’s always there, what can you do?’

‘Well…’ Suga says, turning to the coffee table. ‘I’m not sure if any of this will help, but I wanted to make up for not being one hundred percent there for you when you’re anxious.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘These are just some small gifts,’ Suga says. He opens the thick paper bags, revealing a fluffy blanket, a few lip balms, a small box of tea, a journal, and all of Yn’s favourite snacks. ‘I know it’s not much, and it can’t fix your anxieties completely, BUT I do think that tea will help, and maybe you can journal some of your worries and one of these lip balms is good for deterring lip biting, I think,’ Suga says quickly. ‘And of course, the blanket is for when it gets cooler and we can play games or something, together.’

A comfortable silence fills the room. Yn processes the gesture slowly, their eyes welling, their chest swelling with butterflies.

‘Oh no,’ Suga says, pulling Yn into a hug, pressing them to his chest. ‘I’m sorry, was it too much?’

Yn breathes in his scent, the clean soapy smell mixed with the day’s activities. Familiarity and safety is how Yn would describe Suga and his hugs, the gesture alone could deter them from the worries that plagued their mind.

‘This is too nice,’ Yn murmurs. ‘It’s just a bitten lip, why are you doing so much over that?’

‘Well, I don’t know what’s going on in the background – I’d like to,’ he says quietly. ‘I’d like to sit here and listen to you talk about what’s worrying you, if you’d let me. You never have to, if you aren't comfortable, but I’m always here.’

‘I get it now,’ Yn says, sniffling. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you because I know you’ve been busy too. Exam season gets us all, doesn’t it?’

Suga laughs. ‘It does, but it’s my job to also look after you.’

‘Does it bother you?’ Yn asks quietly. ‘My lips…’

‘Well, it looks a little painful,’ Suga replies. ‘I’d hate for you to endure the pain or get an infection. That’s why I picked up the lip balm specifically for healing lips,’ he says, reading the back of the lip balm.

Yn curls into the crook of Suga’s arm, peering at the lip balm. Suga takes Yn’s chin, and tilts their head upward, gently applying the lip balm to their lips. The cooling sensation spreads over their lips like a lovely cool breeze. ‘It feels pretty good so far, thank you. Thank you for this. I never expect you to do anything for me, but this has made me feel a lot better – just knowing you care. That you’re here for me. Thank you.’

Suga smiles warmly, squeezing Yn against his chest. ‘If none of this helps you feel less anxious, I’ll just have to squish the anxieties out of you!’

‘Well,’ Yn squeaks, ‘I wouldn’t mind the cuddles!’

[sapphicseasapphire]

Hi! I hope you don't mind me asking a question about your CAC AU no longer being LU. Will you be changing anything about the characters that have been compressed? Ex: Four being both Minish Cap, Four Swords, and Four Swords Adventures Link. I'd also like to know if anything else significant is changing with the story, but that's a pretty broad ask 😅

Actually, second question that's only sorta related and that you may have answered in the past but I don't remember (sorry if that's the case ;-;) is the FSA manga canon? Specifically Shadow Link being like, an actual character.

Looking forward to seeing more of our favorite cryptids, esp now that you have more creative freedom <3

Thank you for asking! I think I’m gonna keep the Links that I have, simply because I have so much already written for them and unmerging them would wreak havoc on my storylines. I JUST figured out Four, I don’t want to change them haha!

As far as story changes, I don’t think there’s much I can tell you because I haven’t really said a lot about what the actual story is. I have my little comics, but they’re honestly just little oneshots to explore the characters’ interactions. Salt and Sea, for example, my comic focused on Wind and Legend, isn’t necessarily canon and doesn’t take place within any specific plot. My Sky and Time comic is more plot-relevant but… Okay so I got a little impatient with that one. The Sky and Time comic is the God Reveal comic, and the God Reveal should take place in a story line that I’ve been calling “Grounded.” But this version happens outside of Grounded, for the sake of not spoiling it. But like… the interaction will be mostly the same. It’s hard to explain.

Some of the big arcs that I have planned are: I am Sky (which functions as a prologue to the Cryptid au), Grounded (which is my largest storyline BY FAR, containing the God Reveal, Ravio, Four Splits Reveal, and MUCH MORE), one that just the title of is a spoiler, but it contains the curse reveal (among other things. Shadow. Legend of the Godkiller. Exciting stuff, I think). Some more miscellaneous ideas that I have yet to give names to, nor organize. And then the au actually has an epilogue that’s centered around Time, which… has made me cry when I planned it. But. You know. Spoilers.

I don’t think I can properly express just how BIG this story is. I feel overwhelmed by it, sometimes. I can’t quite put it into words yet, but there will be fics at some point. More comics. And more lore dumps!

I actually have answered a question about the FSA manga and Shadow, but that was a long time ago and I don’t expect you to read through my millions of posts. But yes! Shadow is a real character in the Cryptid au! I’ve been pretty tight lipped about it since it’s kind of… later on in the story. I’m trying SO HARD not to spoil anything haha!

[azulera]

I'll Take Care of You

Pairing: Marcus Rashford x Black OC

Words: 1.7k

Summary: After a successful but exhausting night at work for the both of you, you and Marcus find ways to care for each other.

Notes: i am so soft for Rashy it physically hurts :’( Gentle feedback is very welcome + ao3 link

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You sighed heavily as you keyed into your house, happier than you’d ever been to finally be home. The nonprofit you worked at had it’s bi-annual fundraiser’s dinner tonight, and you had been in charge of organizing the venue, placating the invited guests, and seeing that everything went to plan, and smoothly so. It had been a long night, and stressful, but so rewarding to thank the organizations and donors that supported you and your boyfriend Marcus’ goal of ending food insecurity in urban neighborhoods of the U.S. and England. Exhaustion and elation battled for control of your body, but a strong contentment lay right along with them both.

The event meant you hadn’t been able to make it to Old Trafford for the night’s match, but win or lose, you’d promised to be there when he got home to help talk it over and decompress. Still, you’d caught the score and some highlights on your phone, and knew that he had scored early in the second half: A stunning left-footed curler that sailed clear over the goalie’s fingertips and into the back of the net. You were sorry to have missed it.

Prepared to let him know just how proud you were when you saw him later, you put your things away and headed to the kitchen. What you saw there after switching on the lights made your chest fill with butterflies, and your eyes nearly with tears. Spread across the kitchen island were several towering arrangements of the bluest violets you had ever seen, all angled in the shape of a heart. They filled the room with their fresh, sweet scent, and you spent several moments pressing the petals close to your face and inhaling. When you walked to inspect the buds at the heart’s pointed end more closely, you saw a small folded card with your name on the outside. You opened the thick paper to read a message printed in rose-gold lettering:

“Y/N, I hope your dinner went well tonight, but with you in charge, I would expect nothing less than perfection. Your work is so important and I’m so grateful and proud of all you do for the community, and for me. You are amazing.

Love, Marcus”

Joyful laughter bubbled out from you even before you finished reading. Your boyfriend was too good, you thought, preparing for a must-win cup game and still finding time to do special things for you, to let you know that your work and accomplishments were no less meaningful than his own.

An intense giddiness and Marcus-directed affection followed you all through your shower and getting ready for bed, making your chest feel light and airy. You felt so lucky to have a partner like him, and couldn’t wait to see him and tell him so.

An hour later, you sat in bed with a book when you heard the front door open. After a few moments, you looked up to see Marcus entering the bedroom, looking slightly worn but smiling.

You ran and jumped into his arms before he could sit down.

“Thank you so so much, baby! The flowers are so beautiful, and you know violets are my favorite.”

Marcus laughed as you squeezed him with your legs, and peppered kisses over his face.

“You’re-haha -You’re welcome babes. I’m glad you liked them. I assume the night went well?”

“Mhmm, one of our biggest turnouts yet.” You mumbled, still focused on covering his face with kisses. He moved to sit on the end of the bed, and you settled with legs astride his lap.

“I knew it would be.” Marcus sighed. “You’re the best, you know.”

“No, you are.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, and leaned your foreheads together. “I saw your goal, and that left foot is looking so lethal, baby. They can’t stop you.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He worked so hard to perform well that each time it was rewarded was always sweet.

“And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. They would have had to carry me out, I’d be so loud. ”

He mumbled out a bashful “Thank you” that was drowned out by your laughter as he pulled you down with him to lay on the bed. Suddenly, his features pinched in pain.

“Ah-ouch,-”

“What’s wrong?” You asked. You tried to slide off him, but he held you in place with his hands on your thighs.

“I’m alright, just took a hard fall in the second half, jolted my back a bit.” He reached to grab at the spot, and winced as he did.

You hadn’t seen that in the highlights.

“You ‘took a hard fall’ or did somebody foul you? Did they call it? Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” He looked to you sheepishly.

You cut your eyes at him once before concern returned.

“Well, what did the physio say? Did you mention it?”

“They looked at it quick, yeah, but it’s still a bit tight. Just need to sleep it off I reckon.”

Your brow furrowed. The trainers were mostly trustworthy, but you hated the idea of him going the whole night in discomfort. A better one came to you.

“What if I give you a massage? It might make sleeping easier.”

Marcus patted your thigh softly.

“No, love, I’m good, you’ve had a monster of a day yourself, I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” You squeezed at his hands, your eyes earnest. “If it’ll make it better, I want to.”

All evening you’d been waiting to reciprocate your appreciation for him, and helping him relieve some of his soreness was the perfect opportunity. He returned your gaze with his own, with something soft shining in it.

“Alright, then, yeah. A massage would be great.”

You grinned and leaned down to kiss him, pushing him back down when he tried to meet you halfway.

“Don’t move.” You instead stretched your body out to reach his lips, moving your mouth against his languidly and cradling his cheeks. He hummed against your lips, tightening his grip on your thighs, and gasped when you traced the roof of his mouth with your tongue. Just then, you pulled away, leaving him looking dazed. “One sec.”

You reached into the bedside table for the jar of cocoa butter stored in one of the drawers.

“Okay, now lift up.”

You moved so he could do as you said. You tugged at his sweatshirt to pull it over his head, followed by his undershirt, and your eyes met with the smooth, inked skin of his chest.

“Now, turn over.”

Marcus complied, his muscles flexing as he rotated to his front. You settled with your knees on either side of him, careful not put too much of your weight onto his legs. You couldn’t stop yourself from dropping several tiny kisses on his shoulders and spine.

He shivered softly, and you pulled away, opening the jar of lotion. You spread a thin layer over his skin, reaching up to get the tops of his arms, and the dip low in his back. Then, you set to work. You were no professional, but after that first pass, you could already feel the pronounced areas of tension under your fingers.

You pressed down into one just under his right shoulder and your boyfriend let out a groan.

“Are you okay?"

“M’alright. Keep on, please.” Marcus’s voice was muffled against the covers.

Assured that you weren’t hurting him, you pushed into the spot with the points of your fingers, trying to release the built-up tightness. It took a few moments, but at last you could feel the muscles and tendons relax, becoming loose against your fingers.

“How’s that?” You checked in.

“So much better, love.”

You smiled.

As he began to relax against the bed, you moved onto the next spot. Little by little, you increased the pressure, while Marcus made soft sounds low in his throat almost without noticing. His body was warm beneath you as your hands moved over him, both your skin a nearly same shade of brown. It put you in a peaceful headspace that calmed you both, and soon, you’d covered the whole top half of his back.

You spoke to him gently. “Show me where it hurts again?”

He reached back for your hand and placed it low and to the left of his spine. You murmured a soft “okay”, and he gave your hand a squeeze.

To start, you moved gently over the tender spot with just the tips of your fingers. Gradually, you returned to your previous technique, deep presses with the heel of your hand that smoothed out into caresses. The room was quiet except for the sound of his sighs letting you know you’d done well, and the muffled sounds of your hands. Even as the muscles in your fingers and forearms began to smart, you felt nothing but contentment at the closeness and mutual affection flowing between the two of you, and you were sure Marcus felt it too.

When you heard and felt his breathing slow, you slowed your hands as well, pleased that he was relaxed enough to fall asleep. Carefully, you climbed off his back and onto the covers beside him, turning out the bedside light. You jumped when you felt his strong arms curl around you.

“I love you, you know.” You felt the words rumble through his chest into yours. “And m’not just saying that cause of the massage, though it were proper nice. But because I really do.”

His eyes were almost closed, so he couldn’t see how your own threatened to fill with tears for the second time that night. You slowly ran a finger along the curve of his cheek.

“I love you, Marcus. More than you can imagine. I was just thinking earlier, like, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You pressed a kiss to his neck. His mouth quirked slightly, and he pulled you closer with his eyes still closed.

“Let me know when you find out, babes. Cause I‘ve been wondering the same thing since I met you.”

You smiled at him in the dark, your heart full to bursting with affection. You snuggled in even tighter and the two of you stayed that way, wrapped up in each other until you drifted off to sleep.