#this is entirely not what i meant to write when i read your prompt!! but season 9 is on my mind so this is what came out

[weaksspot]

sam splinting dean's broken fingers for @preseriesdean <3 (read on ao3)

In some grimy gas station bathroom mirror Dean stares down his reflection until he can’t stand it a second longer. His fist goes through the glass and right into the brick wall behind it. The angle is bad and there’s the snap of two fingers breaking, but no pain. No pain as he picks out the little shards of glass and flecks of grit and drops them into the sink, turns the water on, a swirl of blood chasing the pieces down the drain.

He tapes the broken fingers—right hand, little and ring—to each other with duct tape from the trunk of the car, tears it off the roll with his teeth. He drives back to the bunker barely touching the wheel. It still doesn’t hurt.

Sam doesn’t see him till the next morning, when he catches him by the coffee maker, both of them still kind of bleary. Neither one of them’s been sleeping much, not for weeks. Sam mumbles hey, Dean, without really looking at him, and Dean hms back, goes on pouring himself his coffee.

Then Sam asks, quietly: “What happened to your hand?”

For a second Dean just stands there not saying anything. Thinks about saying nothing, not answering at all, just going. Even being in a room with Sam just now—he can stand it, because he has to, but it’s—difficult. Some days are worse than others.

“Dean?”

He looks down at his hand. His knuckles are swollen and scabbed over and there’s still blood between his fingers, in the creases of his skin, because he slept in his clothes last night, didn’t shower. It looks like it should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt.

“Nothing,” he says, feeling Sam’s eyes burning into his back. “Just hit something too hard, it’s fine.”

“Let me see,” Sam says, not really a question, not quite a plea.

“I said it’s fine.” Dean turns to go and Sam is closer than he’d thought, just behind him—Dean turns and almost knocks into him and it’s just about the closest they’ve been to each other all week.

Sam grabs his wrist and the contact fizzes under Dean’s skin. Crawls right up his arm. Sam’s skin on his skin. Jesus fucking Christ he misses him, and he sees him every god damn day. He stands there and stares at Sam’s hand while Sam looks at his taped up fingers, his busted knuckles. His voice is quiet when he speaks again.

“Dean, I need to splint these properly,” he says. His voice is steady but there’s something in it that makes Dean’s throat hurt, scratchy at the back. “They’re gonna heal crooked.”

“What’s it matter,” comes out of Dean’s mouth without him really meaning to let it. Sam doesn’t say anything but he exhales slowly, that zen yoga breath shit he does when he’s trying to keep his temper. What are you mad at me for now, Dean wants to ask him, but doesn’t. Sam is still holding his wrist and Dean can feel his own pulse under Sam’s thumb.

“Come here,” Sam says, and steers him, by the wrist, to the table. “Sit down.”

Dean sits. Sam leaves the room just long enough to get a first aid kit, comes back and sits down beside him, scoots his chair over so their knees are almost touching. Not long ago Dean would’ve knocked them together on purpose, or slung a leg over Sam’s, maybe, if he was in that kind of mood. Now he twitches his leg to the side to avoid it, even as Sam reaches for his hand again, lifts it up and sets it on the table as if Dean wouldn’t be capable of doing that himself.

Sam’s got tweezers in his hand and he starts on picking the little bits of dirt out of Dean’s knuckles that Dean had missed, the tiny pieces that are stuck in deep. Dislodging them makes him bleed all over again, breaks open scabs that had spent the night forming, and Sam all calm and steady mops the blood away and goes on working. He uses scissors to cut away the duct tape, so he doesn’t hurt Dean’s broken fingers by pulling on it.

It hurts anyway. For the first time, now, here, with Sam handling him so carefully. Now it hurts.

“Ouch,” he murmurs, as Sam real careful cleans up the surface damage first, alcohol stinging the scraped-off skin. As he fits the splint to Dean’s fingers the bones shift and pain shoots up right into his wrist, so sudden the shock of it makes him jerk. Sam squeezes his wrist to keep him still and goes on working until Dean says, breathless, “Sammy, you’re hurting me.”

Sam lets go of him altogether and Dean looks up at him, for the first time this morning, and sees him put his hands over his face. Watches his shoulders shudder as he breathes in. Then he takes his hands away and for just an instant Dean is afraid he might be crying. He isn’t. He looks Dean in the face, steady, and says: “We’re almost done.”

No answer from Dean, so he goes back to what he was doing—secures the splint, tapes gauze over Dean’s knuckles, and Dean sits there with his whole hand throbbing with pain and it’s the realest sharpest thing he’s felt in an age and for just a second he wishes, fleetingly, that he could stay here and go on feeling it and not have to go back to—to the constant fear, to the guilt that feels like a bear trap is crushing his throat all the god damn time, so huge and unfaceable that guilt feels like far too small a word for it. To the dead nerve numbness that consumes all the rest.

Let him have this glowing pain instead, and the warmth of his brother’s careful hands.

Anything else. Let him have anything else.

“There,” Sam says, when he’s done, and Dean looks at him and there’s that rock in the pit of his stomach as he thinks, he’s not ever gonna love me the same way again. Dean looks at his brother and knows he’s looking at something that he’s broken beyond repair. Sam looks—pensive, hesitant, like there’s something he wants to say but hasn’t decided if he’s going to yet. It’s a look he wears often, lately, and most of the time he doesn’t end up saying anything. They don’t talk a lot, these days. What would there be to say.

Sam is still holding his wrist, and Dean misses him like his chest is caving in.

He lifts Dean’s hand, then, and without reason, without warning, presses his knuckles to his lips and kisses him there, just once, over the gauze, with his eyes closed. Then he lets go and gets up and puts away the first aid kit, and leaves the room without a word, and Dean sits there where Sam leaves him, and the pain is unbearable, and there is nothing he can do but bear it.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:22」 — p.seonghwa

» ateez menu | seonghwa menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ naga!Seonghwa × fem!Reader wc: 6.3k summary: Y/N’s naga roommate is still trying to get used to the hustle and bustle of life in the city. He finds it difficult to go out and socialize as monsters aren’t socially accepted yet. So he tends to go a little stir crazy and get bored often. dinner time is no different when he suggests they do something fun. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food & alcohol consumption, snakes, snake behavior (literally. Not metaphorically lol), snake biology and anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this was originally Wooyoung when I started planning but I couldn’t get the idea of naga!Seonghwa out of my head so I swapped him and Woo, giving Wooyoung siren instead. Nagas are one of my favorite creatures/monsters/cryptids. I have a special place in my heart for naga!Idols after writing that Mingi one for the Library of Illusion. It’s just a fun concept. Thank you for reading! If you like this, please consider reblogging and supporting my writing! The next part is another member of Ateez and it’s going to be an interesting one, so stay tuned! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), table sex, double penetration (f receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (seonghwa is a snake man with two d!cks, they don’t make condoms for snake men. But they do make them for humans. So use them), multiple orgasms (f receiving), use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, etc.), that should be all but of course, let me know if I missed any. kinks: Table/counter sex + double penetration dialogue prompt: ❛❛ I’m bored. Let’s fuck. ❜❜

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You stared, dumbstruck, at your roommate as he stared at you with his bright, green, reptilian eyes.

“What did you just say?” you asked incredulously as a smirk started to form on his face. “I said,” he started, never taking his eyes off yours. “I’m bored.” Your eyes narrowed as you stared him down. “I meant after that,” you retorted. The smirk on his face grew even more.

“Let’s fuck.”

When he had initially said those words to you, it was after you had returned home from work, excited to have the entire weekend off to relax and unwind. You had been prepared to come home, make dinner, and perhaps curl up on the couch with your favorite bottle of wine.

What you hadn’t expected was for your naga roommate to suggest the two of you have sex to combat his boredom. That was the furthest thing from your mind. The idea of fucking your 4.5 meter long naga roommate had not even crossed the threshold of possibilities in your mind.

When you first met Seonghwa, it was like seeing the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot for the first time. Nothing truly prepares you for seeing a cryptid for the very first time. There are no preparation classes or exams for that kind of thing. You have to rely on your instincts and while every single bone in your body had told you to run, you just couldn’t bring yourself to listen.

Despite his monstrous stature and long, snake-like body, Seonghwa was the exact opposite of a monster to you. He was kind, courteous, polite, and quiet. He sometimes had a bit of a chaotic streak but he was great company and you enjoyed every second you spent in his presence. 

When the Monster Relocation Initiative was enacted, making it illegal to discriminate against sentient humanoids, you found yourself wanting to help in some capacity because of your new budding friendship. You went through the proper channels, signing up for a monster roommate. Somehow, Seonghwa got matched with you and you were beyond excited to have him in your apartment.

Your ridiculously cramped apartment.

Not that it was cramped before, oh no. Before Seonghwa moved in, your apartment was just the right size. Perfect for you, living alone in a historic building renovated into apartments after the Monster Relocation Initiative was announced.

To you, your apartment was exactly the right size… for a single occupant. But add a 4.5 meter long snake-man and it started to get cramped real quick.

Not that you were complaining. On the contrary, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Seonghwa may technically be a monster but he was the furthest thing from scary. Was he capable of wrapping you in his strong coils, squeezing the life out of you and eating you whole? Probably, but you knew he would never do that.

The difference between most monsters and the ones protected in the M.R Initiative was that the humanoids were sentient, capable of intelligent thought and able to learn and distinguish the difference between right and wrong. Could Seonghwa kill you in your sleep? Of course, he was fully capable of that. But would he? No.

This integral difference between most monsters and the humanoids allowed most of them to get jobs and integrate into society. It was illegal to discriminate in any way against them, denying them employment, housing, or entry to establishments was punishable by law. They were legally members of society with citizenship cards, IDs and the right to vote.

Socially, however, was another matter entirely. While they couldn’t be denied jobs for being who they were, many places of employment found entirely valid, albeit bogus, reasons not to hire humanoids. This had been the subject of many of your conversations with Seonghwa by this point.

He often complained of boredom, being cooped up in the apartment all day. It was a difficult subject and rather sensitive for him. His lack of employment. Since Seonghwa moved into your place, you’d taken on most, if not all, of the financial responsibility, paying all the bills, buying all the household groceries and supplies. Again, you weren’t complaining entirely. You enjoyed having Seonghwa around.

He did wonders for your mental health, which was why you often sat and listened to his complaints.

The topic of unemployment had come up again while you sat at your dining room table, where you were finishing up your dinner, Seonghwa having finished a long time ago. He had been talking about his day spent inside while you were outside, at work. He complained of the boredom and you listened patiently.

“Come on, Y/N!” he whined for the nth time that day. “I'm so bored!” You swallowed your mouthfuls of noodles before giving him an apologetic look. “Hwa,” you said calmly, setting your fork down as you finished your meal. “Why don't you try again and find another job?”

His lack of employment wasn’t entirely his fault. He’d been extremely diligent in the beginning, applying for a plethora of jobs he was more than qualified for. He managed to secure job interviews left and right but each time after the interview, the result was the same and after almost a year of numerous failures to secure a job, Seonghwa became more and more dejected. More depressed.

While being legally accepted into society, Seonghwa was still not accepted socially due to his monstrous size and form. He’d been passed over again and again for job simply because he looked different. The more human the humanoids looked, the more likely they were to blend in and while the top part of Seonghwa was human enough, the other three meters of him was all too telling of his nature.

It had been well over a year since Seonghwa started living with you and while you were financially capable of handling the household bills until he did manage to land a job, Seonghwa was berating and beating himself up for it. He often snuck into your bed, at least as much of his body that would fit, and the two of you would stay up, talking late into the wee hours of the morning.

Most of his concerns circulated the same train of thought: finding a job and establishing himself as a member of society. He hated the isolation that his previous life forced on him, living all alone in the caves in the mountains with no one to talk to, being confined to the caves and starving until some poor creature wandered into his lair. He hated every second of it.

It was nice, having a warm body near you, and while Seonghwa wasn’t the cuddliest creature, he did tend to wrap you up in his embrace, mainly to keep from pushing you off your bed with the rest of his huge, elongated body. The amount of heat between your bodies on some of the colder nights was nice but it left you wondering what the line between you was and had you crossed it already.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about Seonghwa in that way. More than once you had walked in on him showering, water running down his human torso as he tried to wash only his hair and not get his scales wet. Not because he couldn't get wet but because he didn't want trail water everywhere.

You pushed the inappropriate thoughts aside as your friend started to speak.

“What's the point?” he muttered. “All I get is rejected. By jobs, by society, by everyone.”

You felt your heart sink. Your poor best friend. He was such a bright, bubbly person-- monster? He had so much love to give so to see him so down pulled at your heartstrings. You set your chopsticks down and reached across your tiny table to place a gentle hand over his that rested on the wooden surface.

Seonghwa looked from your hand up to meet your gaze as you smiled warmly at him. “I don't reject you,” you said softly. Seonghwa accepted your gesture, taking your hand in both of his hands and bringing it to his face, turning your hand over and pressing your palm against his cheek. “I know,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

As quickly as it started, the tender moment was over when your phone buzzed violently against the table. Using your free hand, you grabbed the device as Seonghwa stared wide-eyed, his slit-like pupils widening to twice their normal width. “Ugh. What part of working hours do my bosses not understand,” you grumbled, reading over your supervisor's text. 

“It’s the weekend and nearly nine at night,” you added as you read over more of the message. “Well, at least I can handle this from home,” you continued when Seonghwa didn't reply.

You glanced up, mid-text, to see why he wasn't responding. He was looking at your phone, a far off look in his eyes. “Hwa?” you called gently. He seemed to snap out of it and look up at you. “Are you alright?” you asked softly. Seonghwa nodded, eyes fixating on your phone again. “That sound,” he started, voice barely above a whisper. You looked down at your phone and back up to your friend.

“The vibration? Oh shit! I totally forgot!” you said quickly changing the vibration settings on your phone. In the wild, snakes sense the world by vibration and heat signatures. Seonghwa was no different. He'd told you in the beginning how highly sensitive to vibrations he was. He also can see in the dark using heat.

“It's not that,” Seonghwa said suddenly. “It reminded me of… nevermind,” he said after a brief pause. You could tell something was on his mind. Not wanting him to feel like he couldn't talk to you, you locked your phone screen before setting the device back on the table, face down and giving Seonghwa your undivided attention.

“No,” you started. “It's okay, you can tell me.”

You noticed how Seonghwa's cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of peach. “No,” he said nonchalantly, waving his hand. “It's nothing.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to feel the weight of your stare which took less than three seconds. “You know you can tell me anything,” you replied kindly. “You know I'll never judge you.” Seonghwa gave you a very pointed stare, raising one eyebrow.

“Okay, except for that one time I saw you swallow three whole rotisserie chickens at the store, I won't judge you.”

A familiar smile broke over your roommate's face as he remembered the day in question. “The look on your face was priceless,” he mused, a giggle escaping him. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but the chickens weren’t,” you retorted, causing Seonghwa to burst into laughter. “I know, I'm sorry,” he said between giggles. “I promise I'll pay you back!” You joined him in his laughter a moment later, shaking your head as he laughed loudly.

The laughter eventually subsided and you got up to clear the table, moving to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Seonghwa followed, leaning on his elbows against the kitchen island while he watched you. It was only a few dishes you needed to wash and once you set them aside and removed the gloves, you turned to find Seonghwa staring you down, his green eyes exploring your form.

“Hwa?” you called to him, drawing his attention slowly back up to meet your gaze. You saw the tip of his long tongue, which was remarkably human in color and forked, dart out to lick his lips. “I’m bored,” he said, making you roll your eyes as you moved to the fridge, your fingers wrapping around the handle only for his next words to make you freeze.

“Let’s fuck.”

You had been staring at him for a good five minutes, equal parts shocked and confused by his sudden proposal. “What did you just say?” you asked, your voice cracking as a smirk spread across his face. “I said I’m bored,” he repeated, trying to play coy. You shook your head. “I meant after that.”

Seonghwa’s smirk only grew as he stared at you, his eyes seeming to glow slightly. “Let’s fuck,” he repeated, his words taking all the breath from your lungs. Never had he been so bold. He’d never been so forward with you before. You felt a wave of heat course through your body, spreading from your core to your extremities and settling in the pit of your stomach.

“What… why… how…” you tried three times to ask a question but each time, the words failed you. Seonghwa tilted his head with a mischievous smile. “Snake got your tongue?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I – uh…” you trailed off, cheeks burning under his gaze.

“Are you always this eloquent?” Seonghwa asked jokingly. “What prompted this?” you finally managed to choke out. Seonghwa shrugged, leaning back up. You could hear the coils of his snake body slide over the wooden floor, the boards creaking slightly under his weight.

“I’ve thought about it all day actually,” he said simply. “Thought about what?” you asked, your voice cracking again. “Fucking you when you got home.”

Coughing overtook you as you accidentally inhaled your own spit. Seonghwa was by your side in an instant, guiding you to sit down at the table and offering you your glass from the table. You took a couple sips while he rubbed your back soothingly. “Does the idea of fucking me gross you out that much?” he joked. You quickly shook your head.

“That's not it,” you replied quickly, voice raspy from the choking and coughing. “I'm not opposed at all actually.”

You stopped, turning to look at Seonghwa who was now smirking at you, a devilish grin on his face. “Oh really now?” he asked softly, tilting his head. “Thought about me in that way, have you?”

Your face burned again, cheeks growing warm as you nervously pulled at the collar of your shirt. “Is it warm in here?” you murmured, looking down at your bowl full of broth that was now definitely cold.

Seonghwa's smirk grew. “It's a little warm,” he answered, reaching up to brush your cheek before leaning in, lips inches from your ear. “But it's about to get a whole lot hotter.”

You stared at the naga as he continued to smirk at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “W-what do you mean?”

Seonghwa leaned his upper torso on the table, the bottom snake half of his body resting on the wooden floor, the boards creaking beneath his weight. He cocked his head, still smirking. “It means,” he started, eyes quickly scanning your frame before darting back up to meet your gaze. “That I'm bored.”

His answer was anticlimactic and that must have showed on your face because he quickly held up a finger, making you wait. “Let me elaborate,” he added. You nodded, motioning for him to continue speaking. He lowered his finger, again scanning you quickly.

“I've always found you insanely attractive for a human. Normally your kind grosses me out or maybe they just annoy me,” he said, bringing his hand up to tap his chin thoughtfully. “Regardless,” he continued. “You're the first human to treat me with kindness and aren't bothered by my… unconventional appearance.”

You opened your mouth to protest his word choice but he simply took your chin in his hand, halting your movements. "Don't deny it," he stated, giving you a stern look. “You know that other humans aren't so keen on my kind. I don't look human enough for them. It's why no one will hire me and why you've been covering my ass all this time.”

Again you tried to speak but he gave your head a gentle shake.

“I'm still talking, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave. Heat rushed between your thighs at the sound of his deep husky tone of his voice. You tried to discreetly squeeze your thighs together but Seonghwa had always been so perceptive.

“Back to what I was saying,” he said, a smirk returning to his lips as he rested his free hand on your thigh. “I find you exceptionally attractive. Everything about you is enticing. Your voice, your eyes, your smile…” he trailed off, eyes lowering to your thighs clenching together. “Even your scent,” he rasped.

You let out a tiny gasp as you felt the pointed tips of his nails dig slightly into the exposed flesh of your thigh. “And judging by your reactions and what you said moments ago, you clearly are attracted to me,” he continued, glancing back up.

You pulled your bottom lip gently between your teeth as he eyed you. “Isn't that right?” he asked, tilting his head. You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak. “And so let me rephrase my earlier statement,” Seonghwa said, moving his hand from your chin to grab the back of your neck.

“I'm bored. Let’s fuck.”

You had no chance to respond, only gasp before your voice was muffled, Seonghwa closing the short distance between your lips and taking you in a searing kiss.

The hand on your thigh held steady, fingers squeezing your thigh as Seonghwa parted your lips with his and his tongue slipped into your mouth. One of the more unsettling features was his forked tongue. You'd never felt it before but you were surprised it was soft, almost like a human tongue only forked and much longer.

Seonghwa pulled back much too quickly for your liking, chuckling when you attempted to pull him back in for another kiss. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'm not going anywhere.”

You whined when he dodged another one of your attempts to kiss him. “Hwa!” you whined but he merely chuckled before pushing your centerpiece and other table decorations from the surface. They fell to the floor with a clatter while you stared wide eyed at your roommate.

“Are you ins-”

“Get on the table,” Seonghwa ordered, stopping you in your thoughts. You blinked incredulously at him. “O-on the table?” you stammered. He nodded, standing up straight. Looking at the now clear surface, you looked back at him. “Wh-why?”

“Because,” he said in a growl, the hand on your thigh sliding up under your loose shorts. “This is the dinner table and I'm hungry.”

You quickly scrambled up, ignoring the way the table creaked as you scooted into position. Seonghwa was quick to pull off the shirt he was wearing. He only wore it around you at your insistence. His naked, toned torso was distracting at times. 

“Take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 

You moved at lightning speed, pursuing the material down and discarding it on the floor. “These too,” Seonghwa continued, running his thumb over the thin material of your panties. You were about to comply when an idea popped into your head. 

“You take them off,” you retorted. 

Seonghwa eyed you, squinting suspiciously before he leaned over, towering over your form. “If I take them off, I'll ruin them,” he replied. “You really want that?” You shook your head. “Control your strength,” you answered. “Tease me. Seduce me.” Seonghwa laughed out loud. “You're lying on your back all but presenting yourself to me on the table, sweetheart,” he stated. “I think I've already seduced you.” 

Wordlessly, you sat up, pushing him back. “Then I guess I'll get dressed again,” you replied, moving to drop to the floor but Seonghwa stopped you, fingers wrapping around your throat lightly. “Like hell you will. You want me?” he asked, eyes burning into yours. You swallowed thickly against his hand, nodding slowly.

“Then you're gonna lie back, spread your legs and let me tease you until you're begging me for my cock,” he continued. Almost as if his words were hypnotizing, you slowly laid back as his hand slid from your neck and down your chest to the hem of your shirt.

He pushed it up as he leaned over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips leave light kisses down your stomach. “You want me to tease you?” he asked softly. “I'll tease you, alright?”

You let out a soft moan as his kisses moved further and further, skipping over your core and starting at your knee. You chanced a glance at him, moaning loudly as your gaze met his. His lips parted in a grin before he continued kissing down the inside of your thigh, stopping to nip at the sensitive skin, making you gasp.

“God, I can smell you,” he groaned, burying his nose into your core. “I can't wait anymore,” he growled, pulling back, grabbing the sides of your panties and pulling them down your legs, leaving a trail of arousal smeared down your inner thigh. “I need to taste you.”

Before you could respond, Seonghwa had your legs over his shoulders and face buried in between them, tongue easily slipping between your folds. You gasped out, hands moving to his hair and gripping tightly. “Holy fuck, Seonghwa!” you gasped.

He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations to his tongue. “I'm going to ruin oral for you,” he murmured, pulling back to look at your glistening sex. “From now on, only I will be able to eat you out. No one else will be able to compare.”

You moaned again as his tongue returned to your clit, the appendage wriggling and teasing the sensitive nub. "Hwa," you whined, chest heaving as you panted. His hands pushed your thighs further apart, opening more of you up to him. “Don't worry, sweetheart,” he replied. “You'll cum eventually.”

You felt his tongue prod at your hole and almost as soon as he found it, his tongue was slithering its way in, making you whimper, walls clenching as his tongue explored your pussy. “S-Seonghwa!” you cried out, back arching off the hardwood. He pulled back before your orgasm washed over you, making you whimper in protest. “Be patient,” he said simply as he gave you another devilish smirk.

His tongue was back on you in an instant, flicked your clit as his claws dug further into your skin but not enough to make you bleed. You knew you were going to bruise from his insane grip. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair as he ran his tongue up and down your clit, the forked, pointed tip a strange contrast to the oddly human feeling of the muscle.

Your hips started to buck, rolling against his face as your orgasm approached once more. Seonghwa groaned, letting you rut against his tongue, keeping his head still for a moment before he grabbed your hips, pinning them down against the wood as he went back in, lapping at your clit in rapid movements until the tension that had been building finally snapped like a rubber band and your climax washed over you.

You let out a moan that bordered on a whine as you tugged at Seonghwa’s hair, trying to pull him away from your sensitive nub as your body jerked in reaction to each drag of his tongue over your swollen clit. “Hwa,” you breathed. “Please. No more.” He obliged instantly, withdrawing from your cunt and kissing a wet path up your body. Stopping at the edge of your black bralette.

This needs to come off,” he murmured, taking the material in his teeth and tugging lightly. “D-don’t rip it,” you whispered, moving to sit up on the edge of the table, making him sit up straight and watch as you pulled your shirt off over your head, letting it fall to the floor with your panties. You held his gaze as you pulled your bralette off, letting it also drop to the floor. His eyes left yours, gaze wandering down to take in the sight of your bare chest.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he said softly, shifting to lean over you, his lips meeting yours in a much slower, more languid kiss as he laid you back against the table, the wood creaking under your combined weights. “What if it breaks?” you whispered against his lips.

“That would be impressive,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours as he moved to kiss your neck. You could feel something rubbing against your cunt and glanced between your bodies to see the slit at the base of his torso. It was something you’d noticed plenty of times. The bump surrounding the slit wasn’t massive but it was still a decent size. It didn’t occur to you until then that was where his genitals were located.

Your head fell back against the table as he nipped at and sucked small love bites into the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulder met. “Hwa,” you breathed out, back arching slightly, pressing your chest against his. “Hmm?” he hummed in response, his tongue gliding over your pulse point and up to the base of your ear. “I need you,” you whispered.

“Needy little baby,” Seonghwa said as he let out a chuckle and shifted slightly, pressing that mound at the base of his torso against your wet core. “Does my little angel need me?” he cooed in your ear. “Wants me to fuck her?” You nodded, whining as he rutted against you, your arousal smearing over his skin. “Then who am I to deny her?”

He pulled back slightly and you let out a whine of protest but you quickly felt something hot and warm brush against your cunt and gasped. You tried lifting your head but Seonghwa made that impossible, taking you into a searing kiss. “Hwa,” you grumbled as his lips left yours. “I wanna see.”

Seonghwa snorted but pulled back slightly. “You wanna see what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “I wanna see it,” you said, trying to look down between your bodies. Seonghwa let out a dry laugh but obliged you, pushing himself up. Your eyes traveled down his lean body until you were met with a sight you were not expecting.

The slit had been split open and not one but two cocks had emerged. They were a pale pink color, the tips slightly red. Whether that coloration was natural or because he was aroused, you had no idea and you weren’t sure if you wanted to ask. The general shape was relatively human-like except for the head. The tip of each cock was slightly pointed, the base of the head flaring out a small amount.

The shafts were both mostly smooth with a few prominent veins. White beads of precum oozing from the slits on both. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to get a better view, lips parting in awe. Seonghwa watched your expression, keeping an eye on your body language as you eyed him up. He knew he was quite different from a human in this regard and the look on your face was anything but disgust. There was an excited look in your eyes.

And that, in turn, excited him.

“You done staring?” he asked in an amused tone. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Sorry,” you whispered as he leaned over you, lips inches from yours. “It’s just so different.” Seonghwan hummed in response, lips brushing against yours as he leaned in closer. “You like what you see?” he asked softly. You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as his lips ghosted over yours before kissing you softly.

“You want both of them at the same time?” You let out a sound between a moan and a sob. “Yes,” you groaned as his lips kissed slowly along your jaw. “I want both of them in me.” Seonghwa held back the growl that rumbled in his chest. “Let’s start with just one,” he murmured in your ear. “On your stomach for me, baby.”

You quickly got up, turning to face the table. Before you could actually climb onto it, Seonghwa bent you over the edge, pressing your chest against the wooden surface. “I’ll go slow,” he said softly as he leaned over your back, the tip of one of his cocks pressing against your cunt. “I promise.” You nodded in response. “I trust you,” you whispered as you felt the very tip of his cock part your folds.

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he asked softly. You nodded wordlessly, folding your arms in front of you as he grabbed your hips, stilling behind you as he looked down at where one of his cocks was about to disappear into you. He wasn’t lying earlier, he had thought about this moment for a while now.

“Oohh shiiiit,” you groaned, burying your face into your forearm as you felt Seonghwa ease the tip of his cock into your cunt. You heard him hiss from behind you. F-fuuuuuuck,” he grunted as he bottomed out, burying all of his length into your walls.

“You feel so warm,” he muttered, one hand moving to rest against the table, the other keeping a firm grip on your hip. “S’full,” you whimpered, your walls fluttering around and gripping Seonghwa’s cock as your body tried to adjust and accommodate him.

“Yeah?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “You like that? You like feeling full, baby?”

You responded with a whimper as he pulled back and gave you a gentle and shallow thrust, a deep rumble sounding from his chest. Almost like a purr. “Fucking hell, so warm and tight,” he said again, marveling at how strong of a grip you had on him.

“It’s like you’ve never been fucked.”

You groaned as he picked up the pace, his hips hitting your ass with each thrust with a slap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Seonghwa hissed, slowing his hips. “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he growled.

That being the constricting of your walls around his cock. “I c-can’t control that,” you gasped as he gave you a deep thrust. “Well try, damnit,” he huffed. “I don’t want this to end before it’s really even started.” You cried out as he gave you another deep thrust. “Ooh, that’s new,” he said cheekily, repeating the same action. “Your neighbors might not enjoy all the sound though.”

You had no chance or urge to respond as he picked up the pace again, pounding into you from behind. “What? No snarky comeback this time?” he asked, chuckled as you shook your head, unable to speak. The wood under you creaked as he leaned over, placing his other hand on the table for leverage.

“You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he whispered in your ear. As if to drive his point home, he shoved all of his cock into your cunt and held it there, enjoying the way you struggled against him and whimpered. “Feels that good, huh?” he whispered as you started to relax under him.

You felt the tip of his tail curl around your ankle. “I can feel your heart pounding,” he murmured, lips tailing along your shoulder as his chest dressed against your back. “I can hear it. I can smell you,” he continued. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

You nodded, shuddering as he started to pull back and resume thrusting. “I never would have pegged you to be a monster fucker,” he chuckled. You let out a groan as you felt the pad of his thumb press against your asshole. “What’re you -ah!” you gasped as he slowly pushed the tip of his thumb into you. “If you want to take both, I should probably prepare you,” he said softly.

Your walls clenched around his cock and he groaned, movements halting momentarily as he tried to regain his composure. “I told you to stop doing that,” he said in a low voice as he pushed his thumb further into you. You moaned against the wood of the table. Seonghwa quickly withdrew his thumb, letting a drop of spit fall onto your asshole before pushing two fingers into you, making you gasp, your hands balling into fists. “You okay?” he asked softly as he stilled.

You nodded. The intrusion, while welcome, still stung slightly. Seonghwa gave you a moment to adjust, slowly working your hole open, stretching slightly as he moved his fingers in and out of you. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stretch you fully,” he murmured as he felt his cock inside your walls twitch. “It’s fine.” you said in a breathless voice. “Just put them both in.”

Seonghwa grimaced at the thought of roughly shoving his cock into you, knowing it would hurt you greatly. “No,” he murmured, shaking his head. “We’ll just have to be patient.”

Your body had started to relax as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. After what felt like hours but was definitely only a few hours, he finally pulled his fingers out of you, resuming his thrusting. His pace was slow but the thrusts were powerful, rocking you into the table with each snap. Your hands tried to find purchase on the table as he continued to fuck you against the wooden surface.

“Oh fuck this,” Seonghwa suddenly growled, pulling out of you completely. You whined in protest but when he easily flipped you over onto your back you stopped whining. He lined both cocks up with your holes, the first sliding into your cunt easy but the second needed some guidance and coaxing. He managed to ease the tip into your ass, making you gasp as you felt the head of his cock slowly start to stretch you further.

“Hey, hey,” he said suddenly, noticing your body tense up. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s gonna hurt but only for a bit,” he added. You nodded up at him, taking a deep breath and letting out. As you exhaled, he pushed more of the head into you, the flared base of his cockhead stretching you more before it finally slipped snugly inside. Seonghwa paused, letting your body adjust, gently stroking your thighs and whispering words of praise and encouragement in your ear.

When you had relaxed even more, Seonghwa continued to push into you, both cocks filling your holes simultaneously. It was an entirely different experience, looking up into his green eyes as he pushed back into you slowly. You tried to maintain eye contact but your eyes betrayed you, rolling back as both cocks bottomed out. 

“Oh I like this more,” he chuckled, stilling as he let you adjust once more. After a few minutes, he started to move, setting a steady pace, pumping into you as he watched your face contort in pleasure. “I like being able to see your face. See the expressions you make as I fuck you,” he said as his pace increased, starting to pound into you. 

The feeling was foreign but you enjoyed it. Both holes being filled at the same time provided a new type of pleasure, one you’d never even considered before. You knew after this, there would be no going back to normal men or normal sex. Not when you had Seonghwa in your apartment. As if he read your mind, Seonghwa spoke up, repeating the same sentiments you’d thought to yourself.

“I don’t think I could give this up,” he groaned, hips hitting the back of your thighs and ass with each powerful thrust he gave you, the sound of skin hitting skin and the wet lewd sounds of his cocks slamming into you filling the apartment. “Now that I’ve had a taste,” he added.

“Gonna wanna fill you every night.” You moaned in agreement, knowing that your nightly routines were about to change forever. “Would you let me?” Seonghwa asked breathlessly as his hips stuttered. “You gonna let me fuck you every night now?” You nodded, moans raising in pitch as he continued to snap his hips, driving his cocks into you.

Your lips parted, a moan falling past them which was soon swallowed by Seonghwa as he leaned down, taking your lips in a messy kiss. His hips never faltered, his thrusts growing erratic as he drove both of you to orgasm. His tail was still curled around your ankle as he gave you a couple more thrusts, throwing you over the edge. Your walls tightened around his cock as you came, pushing him to his own climax.

Each moan you let out he swallowed eagerly as he fucked you both through your respective highs, emptying a ridiculous amount of cum into your abused holes until he finally stopped moving, his thick sticky cum dripping out of you and onto the floor. Neither of you spoke, only panting against each other as you tried to catch your breath and process what just happened.

Seonghwa finally pushed himself up, using the table for support as he looked down at you. “I think…” he started, speaking between each labored breath. “We should get cleaned up.” You nodded, your chest rising and falling with each pant. “I think that’s a good idea,” you croaked. Seonghwa smirked down at you as you licked your lips and tried to sit up. “What?” you asked, noticing the hungry look in his eyes.

“Round two in the shower?” he asked eagerly. You scoffed. “You just came! And a lot I might add,” you protested, feeling even more of his cum spill out of you. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You forget I’m not human,” he murmured against your lips. “So?” you asked in between kisses.

“I have a lot more stamina than anyone you’ve ever fucked,” he continued, pulling back and giving you another smirk before kissing you once more. You felt heat settle in the pit of your stomach as you remembered the two cocks that had emerged from the slit, both pink with pointed reddened tips. A fresh wave of excitement and arousal coursed through you at the prospect of being filled with both of them, something you had begged for earlier. Seonghwa, sensing your excitement, gave you another couple of kisses.

“And besides,” he added. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[p0orbaby]

Could you write something about reader having surgery? Leah worrying about her & getting super stressed out x

-

Leah’s pacing. Of course she is. She’s wearing the trainers that squeak on the hospital floor, the ones you begged her to throw away three months ago. “They’ve got character,” she said then, like that was a reasonable argument for keeping footwear that sounded like an off-brand comedy gag every time she took a step. Now, the sound feels like a metronome for her anxiety.

She’s also muttering under her breath, something about waiting rooms being designed to drive people mad. “Why is there always a random fish tank?” she asks no one in particular, gesturing at the gurgling monstrosity in the corner. “Like, is that meant to be calming? Watching a clownfish swim into a plastic castle?”

Kim, who you bullied into babysitting Leah while you’re in surgery, hums noncommittally and sips her tea. It’s the worst thing she could’ve done because it prompts Leah to snap, “You’re too calm. Why are you so calm?”

“Because it’s a routine procedure,” Kim replies, her tone so even it borders on condescending. “She’ll be fine, Leah”

But Leah doesn’t look convinced. She crosses her arms, leans against the wall, then decides against it and resumes pacing. “Routine doesn’t mean risk-free,” she mutters. “What if they mix up her file with someone else’s? What if they give her a kidney transplant instead of fixing her knee?”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Kim asks, barely suppressing a laugh.

Leah whirls around. “Anything’s possible, Kim. Hospitals are chaos. I’ve read articles”

Kim just shakes her head and goes back to scrolling her phone, clearly regretting agreeing to this.

Leah’s still fidgeting when the surgeon finally appears. The man is smiling, calm and professional, but she doesn’t let her guard down. Not even when he says, “The operation went smoothly. She’s in recovery now”

“Define smoothly,” Leah demands, squinting at him like he’s lying. “No complications? No close calls? You didn’t drop anything inside her, did you?”

“Leah!” Kim hisses, mortified.

The surgeon, to his credit, only blinks. “She’s fine,” he repeats, clearly accustomed to this brand of hysteria. “You can see her shortly”

Leah doesn’t wait. She marches down the hall like she’s storming the pitch, the squeaking of her trainers echoing behind her.

When she reaches your room, you’re half-conscious, propped up in bed with a silly-looking hospital gown that does nothing for your dignity. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of her trainers, and you manage a groggy smile.

“You’re here,” you mumble, your voice sluggish from the anaesthetic.

“Of course I’m here,” Leah says, pulling a chair up to your bedside. “How do you feel? Do you need water? Ice? A lawyer in case something went wrong?”

You blink at her, too out of it to process her rambling. “I think they gave me morphine. I feel amazing”

Leah exhales sharply, her hands twitching like she wants to touch you but isn’t sure where. “Good. That’s good. You look… fine. A bit pale. But fine”

“Thanks,” you slur. “You look sexy”

She finally smiles, though it’s small and a little wobbly. “You scared the hell out of me, you know”

You try to reach for her hand but miss by a mile. “Sorry. Love you”

Her expression softens, and she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “Love you too. Just… don’t ever make me do this again, yeah?”

“No promises,” you mumble, already drifting back to sleep.

Leah stays by your side the entire time, even when the nurse comes in and politely asks her to stop squeaking her trainers against the floor.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Could I please request Thranduil with a breeding kink with the lavender field prompt? 🔥🔥 thank you so much!! Your writings lift my spirits!

Here you go!

"Lavender Haze"

Pairing:  Thranduil x Fem. Reader (elf/second person POV) | Location: Greenwood the great

Themes: Smut | Soft

Warnings:  Kissing | Explicit language | Mild dirty talk | Breeding kink | Sex in an open field | Penetrative sex | Rough sex | Cream pie

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary : A game of hide of seek take place in a lavender field. What price will the loser have to pay? 

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞  | You are responsible for the media you consume

Rules and tag form here | Prompts for requests here

 A lavender haze. 

That was all you could see in the periphery of your vision—an endless haze of the richest lavender swaying with the wind. The blooms rustled, murmuring with a hushed voice of their own every time the wind rose. It was sheer happenstance when you came across this field of wild lavender. Thrilled with this new find, you made haste to ride back to Amon Lanc and tell its prince. Thranduil listened with rapt attention and insisted that you take him there. No one knew of such a field, and he wanted to see it with his own eyes. 

The prince came. And he saw. And believed. And a merry chase then ensued. No one besides the two of you knew of this little slice of paradise, and Thranduil wanted to make the most of it. Others would learn of the field's existence soon enough, and the opportunities to be alone within it would grow sparse. 

You ran and ducked behind tall bushes. Hid behind the thick trunks of gnarled trees with branches so low they kissed the soft grass that grew beneath them. And Thranduil chased you still, calling out for you and searching for you, the heady rush of the chase working its magic on him. 

"Where are you, meleth?"

You clapped your hands over your mouth and kept still. Thranduil was close to the oak tree you were hiding behind. You could not hear his footsteps; the prince moved like a wraith, not making a single sound. You press against the bark of the tree, wondering if he heard you or if he knew where you were hiding. 

"Meleth?"

It was as if he were further away now, but you keep yourself concealed anyway. When it sounded as if he had moved quite a distance, you peered around the tree, pleased to find him no longer there. You take off again, giggling and smug, confident you have thrown him off your trail. 

"There you are!" Thranduil ran in from behind and threw his arms around you. He cackled when you squealed and squirmed and tried to free yourself from his hold. His moving away from where you were had just been a sly trick. He was there the entire time, hidden, waiting for you to come out into the open. 

"Th-thranduil!" Giddy laughter ripped through you when you tried and tried, and he simply continued to carry you deeper into the field. "Let g-go!"

"No!" Thranduil's laughter mirrored yours. He listened to you grumble and plot your escape, and laughed again, louder this time. "Yield, meleth. Escape is futile. Surely you know this by now."

"Never!" That never lasted no more than a few moments, when you realized you would not be able to extricate yourself from his vise-like grip no matter how hard you tried. You give up and go limp against him. 

Thranduil sets you down amidst fragrant purple blooms. "Now, tell me. What was our wager again?"

"If I win, you are to be my slave for the turn of a moon," you answer quickly, more than a little disappointed that losing the wager meant not having Thranduil wait on you hand and foot. Literally. 

Thranduil smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "And if I win?"

"I am to let you have your way with me. In whatever way you desire."

"A prospect that does not disappoint you, yes?"

You huff and cross your arms. How easy it was for him to read you! "It does not."

Thranduil smiled wolfishly and sat down, extending his hand to you. "Come, meleth. It is time to pay the piper, so to speak."

You narrowed your eyes and made yourself comfortable next to him, lying down on the grass as you did so. The sky was beautiful, all puffy white clouds against a field of the palest, clearest blue. You rest your head over your folded arms and watch while they stay low and move slowly. Thranduil is content to watch you. He lays down beside you, an enchanting smile slowly working its way across his face when you turn to face him. His eyes light up when you smile in return. 

"I will pay," you reply with a grin. 

Thranduil beamed and leaned forward, the sweetness of his kiss pouring into your throat when his mouth opened over yours. Deft, experienced hands worked on the clasps and lacing on your robes. Your gown loosened beneath his touch. The prince helps you out of your clothes, barely taking a moment to marvel at the sight of you exposed. Thranduil then sat up, his clothes rustling while he rid himself of his tunic and undershirts, belt and sash and boots. They all joined the growing pile by the side. He slipped out of his breeches, sighing in relief when his throbbing cock sprang free. He did not give you time to even think or breathe. He simply captured your lips with his. 

Your nerves were aflame; every inch of you was heated and sensitive to his touch. And you were bold, reaching out to ghost a finger over the crown of his member. Thranduil moaned lustily and drew away, content again to watch, this time while you took him into your hands. He moved his hips, thrusting in time with your strokes. The warmth and frenzy of your pace were unceasing. It nearly undid him and almost made him cum all over your hand. 

"Not like this." Thranduil loosened your grip and pushed you onto your back. "I would much rather finish inside you."

He was so warm when he lowered himself onto you—slowly and carefully—and tried not to lose control of himself and hurt you. He did not enter you immediately. Thranduil kept still while you touched his face and his hair, and ran your hands over his arms and chest and back. The prince was perfect, like an exquisite marble sculpture come to life. 

"Mine," you declare without even hesitating. "All mine."

Joy welled within Thranduil's heart. "As you are mine," he exclaimed with pride before dipping his head. 

He kissed with tenderness, then hunger, then fury, when your mouth parted for the warmth of his sinful tongue. Thranduil knitted his tapered fingers around yours, moaning into your mouth when your free hand slid around his waist and nails dug into his flesh. 

"Naughty girl," he breathed wistfully. "Now open those beautiful legs for me."

He groaned under his breath when your legs slid open and hooked around his hips. Thranduil pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, sinking his shaft into your slit. The prince was built bigger than most, and you felt it in the pressure around your core. He kept still, his chest heaving and his heart racing wildly, while you adjusted to his size. Arousal pooled in your belly when even the slightest movement sent shock waves shooting up your spine like lightning. You no longer wanted him to stay still. You wanted him to move. 

"I am ready."

Thranduil's pace was merciless. He rutted into you like a wild beast, growing drunk on your transported moans.

"Look at how well you take me," he cries against your throat. "It is as if you have been made for me."

All you could do was hold onto him while he bucked his hips against the insides of your thighs. "Perhaps it is because we were made for each other."

"Yes," Thranduil agreed. "Meant for each other. You are mine, just as I am yours. We belong together."

His grip on your hand tightened. He plunged deeper and harder. It made you see stars. "More," you plead shamelessly. "More. Please."

Thranduil grunted softly. "Look at you. Listen to how desperate you sound. Should I deny you?"

"No!" you keen. "Please do not do that."

"Pathetic." Thranduil hissed hoarsely, his hips now undulating every time he thrust. "But I suppose I will concede to your plea. I am going to finish inside you, so you know who you belong to."

"Please." The knowledge of him filling you with his seed unraveled you. "Do it. Please."

He nearly fell apart when he heard. Thranduil let go of your hand and gripped your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. He wanted to see how your words could undo him. "Are you ready?"

You did see. You saw how his eyes had darkened and how raw, unbridled lust flashed in them. And you were so ready for him.

"Yes," you sob in relief. "So ready."

Thranduil ran his tongue along the curve of your throat. It made you tremble beneath him and whimper against his shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic and relentless. It sent you spiraling and made the world grow dark in your eyes. Thranduil gasped sharply while your walls contracted and milked his cock. It shattered him and made his orgasm rip through him. He glanced at your belly, his thoughts running riot with visions of his spend filling your cunt. It heightened the bliss he was already drowning in. With one last, satisfying grunt, he came to a stop, his arms and body trembling from the exertion. 

Nothing could be heard save for the wind rustling through flowers and leaves and the deeper sound of ragged breathing. Thranduil slowly moved onto his back, taking you with him. You sighed in contentment while he held you against his chest. When you moved, he stopped you. 

"Keep me inside you a little longer," Thranduil insists. "Just a little longer, then you and I can go for a swim in that pond nearby."

[maeumi-jng]

language of love

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: the language of love... so simple yet so profound. especially when you can't muster the courage to tell that special someone. or the subtle ways enha shows they like you.

warnings: fluff, skinship, swearing, mention of a nosebleed, unclear topic of insecurities about looks with riki, kinda cringe but everyone's so flirty (esp, hee, jay, and hoon 🤭), proof read-ish as usual

library: enhypen bookshelf

author's note: this was supposed to take one day but took four because i kept getting called into work shifts that i don't normally do 😭🤧 so i may or may not have gotten a bit lost on the way, bare with me please ♡︎

heeseung

heeseung is someone who likes to spend time with you, quality time if you will. but he's always in internal conflict about it. he loves being with you but when he's with you, he doesn't know how to act. you make him feel like jelly. as if he'd melt by being with you. and the amount of time he'd spend with you made the lines between friends and something more quite blurry.

but the time he likes to spent with you isn't on anything normal or something that occurs everyday like grocery shopping, having lunch together, or watching a movie with you. while of course, he enjoyed those things, heeseung like to make the smallest things that seemed insignificant and unimportant to life heart fluttering.

take for example, the one time you had decided to sit down at a bench in the park with your group of friends. heeseung was next to you when you found a newspaper that had been left behind with an unfinished crossword puzzle.

you weren't really a crossword puzzle type of person but you had a pen in your bag and you figured why not?

the puzzle was ocean themed which lost you even more. but you persevered only to become stuck on the very last word. it was across, intertwining with the 1st word, and seven letters long. the prompt? 'what is a community of organisms that live on or near a 'benthic zone'?'

yup. beyond you.

heeseung, who was talking to sunghoon, noticed your struggle by the pout of your lips, wondering eyes, occasional sighs and the tapping of your pen against your chin. a small smile crept onto his face when you turned to him and asked, "hee, i'm stuck. how do you do this? help me... please?"

who was he to deny such a cute request?

suddenly, he leaned towards you, taking your pen out of your hand. you blinked blankly at the close proximity between the two of you. you could feel the warmth radiate off of him. awkwardly, you rubbed the nape of your neck while heeseung glided the pen across the seven boxes. you couldn't tell what he was writing, eyes focused on the side of his face. he looked beautiful from the side too.

you chewed on your lip, watching him pull back and retract his hand. "you're done?" you asked, bewildered he had figured it out without searching it up.

heeseung hummed, eyes trailing over your face. "nope," he said, "i don't know the answer." he shrugged.

"huh?" you raised a brow, now peering over to the once empty row of squares. you're brows furrowed, trying to read the letters. but once you did, your eyes widened at the seven filled boxes.

URSOQT♡︎

"i–" you turned your head to heeseung to ask him what he meant as a wave of heat taking over your face. but he was already looking at you.

any voice you had had suddenly died down. you pressed your lips together, unable to form any words.

heeseung smiled softly, heart entirely overwhelmed by your reaction. he sighed, breathing in the fresh air before looking over to sunghoon. "don't you just love crosswords?"

sunghoon blinked. "what? hyung, i'm talking about basketball right now. crosswords? what are you on?"

heeseung pursed his lips, turning back to you. "i love crosswords."

see? crosswords... insignificant and not life changing. but ever since that day, you had never gone a second without your heart fluttering when you thought about it.

see? significant and life changing. 🤗

jongseong

jay hated having glasses.

or he hated having poor eyesight which made him have glasses.

whatever... it didn't matter. he just hated his glasses. they were a nuisance, always hurting the bridge of his nose and actually rendering him unable to see the face.

to make matters worse, riki and jake loved to tease him about how bad his eyesight actually was by trying them on. it was only a few seconds into wearing them that riki was complaining about sore eyes and the shock of his suddenly blurry vision had finally registered in jake's brain once he wore them. so jay avoided giving people his glasses to try on.

but when it came to you... it was hard to say no.

jay was in his local cafe, just reading his book, determined to get through it even though his brain was telling him to take an afternoon nap. also because he was meeting you soon and he was more determined to stay awake for that.

he had come early because he didn't want to keep you waiting, even for a second. but he had become so engrossed in his book, jay didn't even realise you had finally arrived.

"peekaboo. guess who? " suddenly, as jay was reading, your hands hovered over his glasses, covering his vision.

a smile automatically came to his face while jay rested his book down on the table. "is it the most prettiest girl in the universe?"

your eyes widened at his words, pulling your hands quickly back to you. your cheeks flushed while you cleared your throat, taking a seat next to him.

jay watched you try to dismiss his words but you didn't know what to say. and call it a bit odd, but jay loved it.

you blinked at his face, tilting your head, making jay raise a brow. suddenly it was his turn to be nervous when you leaned in and took his glasses gently off of his face. he could feel your hot breath from this close proximity. oh how he wished he could close in just a few more centimetres.

"can i try these on?" you queried.

jay slowly nodded, watching you first look through the lenses. you squinted at the wave of blurriness. "christ," you mumbled, trying to blink it away. "jay, you really can't see," you teased before gliding the frames onto your face.

jay needed to look away, taking anything as a distraction because he wasn't sure if he could handle seeing you wear his glasses.

you scrunched your nose at the heavy weight. you tapped jay's shoulder, trying to get his attention. "jay, look! i can't even see anything with these on."

jay internally cursed, slowly moving his head back to it's original position. he paused at the sight.

the thing was, jay already found you extremely adorable. there was just so much to like about you. the look on your face when you tried to be mad or when you needed to concentrate. or when you meet up and both realise you were wearing matching clothing. or whenever you saw stray kittens and puppies when it rained and you would sacrifice your umbrella just so they could have some shade and keep warm.

in the nicest way possible, you were terrible for his heart.

but watching you wear his glasses... it was so simple and stupid but it made his heart flip a million times more. you looked good in his things. a fact of the universe.

jay smiled softly, observing you take them off once your head started to throb.

"it's okay. they look better on you anyways," you told him, leaning in again to carefully put them back on his face.

jay's heart was now slamming against his chest. in his vision, he could see you use your index finger to nestle the glasses onto his nose bridge. "there," you said, "handsome as ever."

jay blinked, trying to calm his racing heart with subtle deep breaths.

he needed to confess... soon.

jaeyun

you know how quality time is a love language? well, it's a language that jake knows off by heart ever since he met you.

unlike heeseung, he wasn't entirely fixated on the small things. he liked doing the daily things with you like your morning hot chocolate run, going shopping with you, having a fixed lunch (date) everyday... it guaranteed him his daily dose of you and vice versa.

even if you were doing nothing, jake liked to hang out. just watching tiktoks on your phone or tv shows together, trying a new recipe you found, or even going on a picnic was enough for jake (and you).

take now for example. you were hanging out in the library for god's sake. you had an assignment to finish (mostly because you had pushed it so far that you had almost entirely forgotten it). despite you telling jake that it was literally going to take you hours because it took you thirty minutes to half-ass an introduction, he was all like, "it's fine. i have nothing to do any way."

like ??? what do you mean you have nothing to do? you could think of twenty things that were better than this. and that was just off the top of your head.

you'd like to think that you were getting a lot done, considering a few hours had passed and it seemed like there were a lot of words on your screen.

however, reality is not that kind.

instead, you had only written 600 words of your 2000 word essay and mostly focused on the fact that jake was spending him time... by staring at you.

"jake... i can't focus if you keep looking at me. i told you to go do something else more fun," you uttered, not peeling your eyes away from the screen.

"but this is fun. for your information, i find the fact that you find me more interesting than your essay really fun," jake smiled, leaning on his arm while he sat across you.

you blinked blankly at your screen. what were you writing again? "well now... now you're just twisting my words," you mumbled, feeling a wave of warmth scatter across the back of your neck.

suddenly a ding echoed from your phone making the both of you jump. you quickly ushered your phone to yourself, forgetting to silent your phone when you had entered. your eyes flickered over the notification and upon registering it, your face dropped.

jake raised a brow. "who is it?"

"it's my mum, shit i forgot," you sighed. "i have to go run errands for her. sorry, jake. at least you can find something fun to do now. see you!"

jake watched you quickly pack your stuff up, suddenly processing that you were leaving with out him.

you were just heading out of the library, standing up from your table when you felt a tug on your wrist. your eyes fell to your hand and then up to jake. you peered with a curious gaze.

"wait for me," jake told you, jacket half shrugged on. he sighed at your confused expression. "i'm coming with you, obviously."

"jake, seriously, it's fine," you laughed softly as he struggled to gather his things.

jake turned to you, sporting the uttermost serious expression you had ever seen on his face. "you don't get it... i cancel my other plans to spend time with you. sweetheart, there is literally nothing else i'd rather do than be with you."

oh.

your eyes widened. the endearment... the obviousness of it all...

you gave a small sigh, shaking your head slightly before letting a warm smile sprawl onto your face. "well come on then."

jake grinned, taking his bag off of the chair next to him. "this is gonna be great! especially because i haven't seen your mum in ages."

you raised a brow as you both walked together. "jake, you literally saw her three days ago."

"my point exactly."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon doesn't necessarily exhibit the fact he likes you. because he doesn't really know how to. he preferred to keep his feelings at bay, more than content with being friends with you instead of ruining your relationship. and maybe... just maybe his feelings for you would go away.

but that preference was short lived when sunghoon realised he couldn't really control himself around you any longer. he'd find himself caring about all the small things.

every time he talked to you and he caught your smile when you were happily talking about the things you loved, sunghoon had to force himself to turn his head away and hide his own smile.

one time you hit your nose and dramatically made a big deal about it. it was amusing until sunghoon actually saw blood and the panic cross your eyes. now sunghoon naturally covered all the sharp and blunt corners and objects that you could possibly hurt yourself with when you were both walking together while making sure you walked on the inside of the road rather than near the cars or poles.

his friends even noticed. especially when he'd laugh at a tiktok you were showing him but they showed the exact one to him days before and sunghoon didn't even utter a word.

in summary: sunghoon liked you way too much.

and it was getting harder to contain his feelings.

"sunghoon-ah?" you called out, looking at your phone.

sunghoon, who was laying next to you on a picnic blanket, discreetly looking at you the entire time and revelling in the idyllic nature, hummed in response.

"what do you think about this guy for me?"

sunghoon squinted as you showed him your phone. a small huff of amusement fell from his lips. "why? does he have a crush on you or something?" he joked, briefly glancing at the phone, not even hiding his uninterest.

you rolled your eyes, taking your phone back. leave it up to sunghoon to take things so half-heartedly. "no... it's just that my friend is trying to set me up with someone–"

suddenly the phone was taken out of your hands. now fully attentive, sunghoon eyed the photo on your phone. he furrowed his brows, making you question him. "sunghoon?"

he sucked his teeth and tilted his head, pondering. "but don't i look better than this guy?"

you blinked rapidly, at a lost for words. sunghoon wasn't ever this straightforward with you. nor did he flirt subtly. in all the time you had known him, you had known him to be a sweet and caring person underneath all that evasiveness (all of which you'd come to really like, not that you'd ever tell him). but he'd never voice these things to you...

you broke out into a small smile with a quiet hum. "i guess you are better looking," you shrugged with feigned nonchalance, averting your eyes to anywhere else in the park.

sunghoon looked at your flushed state and smiled to himself. he nodded, mostly to himself, as he returned your phone. "yeah," he agreed with red ears, "i'm a lot better looking."

seonwoo

when seonwoo realised he liked you, at first he did nothing about it. what was he even going to do? tell you? ha! what a joke!

but after encountering several other people asking him for your number or socials, seonwoo realised he needed to up his game. make it more obvious. like really obvious.

so the first thing he did? he confessed.

you being you, you thought he was playing a joke on you. because why on earth would the kim seonwoo like you? this was the real world not la-la-la land.

seonwoo could barely register that fact that you thought he was joking. so he made it his mission to bring it up as often as he could. but not so much that you'd get fed up.

like you had just begun watching a drama that had finished a few weeks ago and seonwoo had decided to join you. you were so obsessed with it that you kept bringing it up when you could. one day, you were telling him about a part you saw when he briefly fell asleep and he says casually, “i know.”

and you’re like ??? “seonwoo, you fell asleep. what do you mean you know?”

he’d look at you and say, “i already watched all of it.”

you blinked blankly. “i– w-what? then why would you watch it again? isn’t that like a waste of time?”

“because you wanted to and because i like you. do i need any other reason?”

ohhhhhh

or on any random day, seonwoo would walk into your room and smile widely while holding up two matching items. "look what i got!”

you’d look up and press your lips together. “more matching keychains? not that i'm complaining but seonwoo.. i have like twenty of these because of you. the whole point of keychains is to actually use them not swap them out every other day.”

seonwoo would pout. “b-but each one shows how much i like you.”

you blankly look at him before slamming your head into your pillows, hiding your flushed cheeks. "ugh, seonwoo, why are you like this?" you grumbled, fighting between the urge to cringe or crumble.

seonwoo would be attaching the new keychains he brought to your already packed bag. "because i'm amazing," he'd say, "and because i like you."

your last straw was picked when you were trying to do something a simple as show him a video you found on your phone during your absentminded scrolling. "seonwoo, watch this."

seonwoo leaned in next to you, eyes momentarily on the phone before resting on you for most of the video.

you were grinning at the video of cute puppies before realising seonwoo was looking at you instead. "i– are you watching?" you queried, suddenly feeling self conscious all of a sudden

"hmm?" seonwoo blinked, moving his eyes back to the screen. "oh... yeah."

"seonwoo," you whined. "you need to stop that."

"stop what? looking at you. but that's like normal," seonwoo raised a brow.

"no, stop looking at me like that."

"like what?" seonwoo egged on. "like my entire world is in front of me?"

you sucked in a sharp breath, giving him a pointed look.

seonwoo held your gaze, responding earnestly. "does it make you feel uncomfortable? if it does... i'll stop. it'll be hard but i'll do it."

you chewed your bottom lip, spotting the dismay in his boba eyes. "no. it's okay. i like it."

a surge of relief wavered throughout you when a wide smile appeared back onto his face. "good," sunoo beamed, "i'm glad."

jungwon

jungwon was as direct as some get. if he had something to say, he'd say it. this persona, however, did not apply to two things: when someone asked him if he liked the food he was eating when he didn't or when it came to you.

jungwon didn't really know how it happened but he seemed to lose all senses and all the ability to speak when he was around you. that's when he realised he liked you.

every time you were with each other, a majority of it was in this comforting silence with the occasional side conversation. but if you minded, you didn't say anything. you seemed to enjoy the peace that always stemmed when you two were together.

that was one of those things that made jungwon find it difficult to communicate his feelings with you. with every passing day, he'd return home with something else he liked about you.

one day you were hanging out with your friend group. the sun was setting, it was warm out despite the slight breeze. jungwon was talking to his friend on his right when he realised he hadn't heard your voice in a while. he turned to you, only to find you resting your eyes, absorbing the peaceful atmosphere while your hair danced with the wind. that day, jungwon went home realising he really liked seeing you at peace.

another day, jungwon found out that you were really good at remembering the small things and how attached you got to them. he was in your room for the first time and you went to grab some water. his eyes skimmed the room, stopping on the shelf that was littered with some of the most random items: old movie tickets, beads, coins, and even a heart-shaped pebble.

you came back into the room, settling the cups of water down on your desk. "what are you looking at? ah, you found the shelf."

jungwon curiously turned to you, eyes still stuck on the shelf. "what is all of this?" his voice barely above a whisper.

"memories," you murmured softly. you walked next to him, gingerly picking the pebble off of the wood and showed it to jungwon. "you don't remember this one?"

jungwon raised a brow, trying to scavenge his brain for this pebble. after a lot of nothingness, it struck him! "oh my god, this is not the same rock we saw at beach last year, is it?" you had both found it hiding in the sand after you trailed away from the others.

"ding ding! a point for yang jungwon!" you confirmed, a small smile teetering on your face.

jungwon looked at you wordlessly. he didn't know what to say. if he thought about it, a lot of that shelf had him on it. the movie tickets, the coins he found on the road, the teddy bear he brought you for your birthday... you had kept everything.

after that day, jungwon knew he needed to make things a tad bit more obvious. at least in his perspective. so he showed you in a way that didn't have him talking too much: acts of service.

jungwon knew you ordered your coffee every morning so he'd bring it with him every time you met. he always kept a hoodie for you because you always got cold easily. always call you when you were on the bus or getting a ride to make sure you reached home safely. opening stubborn packs of food when you couldn't. always having medicine on hand when you felt unwell.

jungwon would basically drop everything for you. and he'd think he was doing it sooo discreetly but you noticed, embarrassing him when you pointed it out.

"you're just so thoughtful, so i wanted to show you that i also think about you too.. like a lot."

(future) boyfriend goals indeed. 🤭

riki

similar to seonwoo, in an strange way, riki was direct. strange because this only occurred when he had a point to prove. call it what you want... youth or the journey of maturity, but if he wanted to let you know something, he'd say it. in summary: for you, an attention seek.

while riki was competitive, he never really competed with a person one-on-one. it was rather a battle of what he could do rather than him by himself. like he'd rather find out he's better by acing them in a basketball match or something.

yet, when both of you were hanging out with your friends in a pet cafe to relieve some stress, riki found himself competing with the worker who had been staring at you ever since you took a step into the place.

how was riki going to resolve this you ask? (or win, in this case?)

by trying to get as many pets around him as he could. see, riki knew you cherished animals. any time you were near one, you'd always have to stop to look, talk, and ensure they were safe. riki found it endearing. so if all the animals in the cafe loved him and not the the guy who literally works there, then not only has he won over the animals and the worker, but most importantly, he's won your heart (vicariously through animals, of course).

the only problem? as mentioned, the guy worked there. and while the one shiba inu in the cafe seemed to adore riki, the rest were in the hands of the freaking worker! and right beside him was you.

riki whisper-yelled your name, capturing your attention. "look at this!"

you turned to find the same young shiba inu, the one you had been fawning over the moment you saw him, sleeping in riki's lap. your eyes softened at the sight of them together. cuteness with cuteness... just your luck. you reached for the phone in the pocket of your jacket.

riki paused briefly, realising you had snapped a sneaky photo of him and the puppy. discreetly, his eyes took a moment to savour the awkward realisation on the worker's face. a small smug grin made it's way onto his face. he was on your camera roll. he won.

but this type of stuff was tame in comparison to what riki pulled the other day.

you were at his house, waiting for him to get ready so you could watch a new movie in the cinema. riki was hopping out, trying to put his sock on when he saw you intently staring at your phone.

a sudden flick to your forehead got your attention.

"ow!" you exclaimed, rubbing your head. "riki, what the hell?"

riki bit back his smile when he saw you pout. "what are you looking at so much that you can't look at me?"

you rolled your eyes, removing your hand from your forehead. "first of all, you're the one taking forever. second of all... it's not really anything, it's just a pretty person. see? don't you think they're like really pretty?" you sucked in a sharp breath, waiting for an answer.

riki furrowed his brows, trying to put his shoes on at the door as you showed him your screen. he eyed the photo before looking back up at you and back at the phone. "you're prettier," he said nonchalantly.

you blinked blankly, slowly raising your phone back to your chest. you were suddenly desperately fighting a wave of fluster from drowning you. you pressed your lips, letting a small huff of amusement slip past your lips. "i don't think that's what other people would say."

riki finished tying his shoelaces, standing up straight. he sighed, taking the phone out of your hands, closing it and putting it into the pocket of your hoodies as he stepped closer to you. his hands moved to hold your cheeks while his brown eyes held yours intently. "it doesn't matter what they think. i think you're prettier. that's all that matters."

your mouth fell open, cheeks warm at his sudden touch. it was as if all the words you had ever learned or read had flown right from your brain and dispersed into the air.

removing his hands from your face, riki grasped your hand tightly. "now come on! we're really going to be late if you keep standing like a gaping fish!"

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[causenessus]

for your event, can I request suna with ⭐️ and 🍳? :D

Almond Butter. | Suna Rintarou

suna x f!reader

written in 2nd pov and it tore me to shreds

prompts from 1k followers event -> ⭐ -> insomnia & 🍳 -> cooking

"you've adored me before, oh my good looking boy." from good looking (stripped) by suki waterhouse

word count: 1.1k words

notes: fluff <333 i can't help talking about how hot and sexy this man is everytime i write for him i am so in love with him i am barking from him HHHHH— suna being a good boyfriend and brother!!! i love this man to bits and pieces <3 1K WRITING EVENT IS BACK IN SESSION!!! AND SO AM I!! NESS!! FOR A SINGLE DAY!! WITH CRAPPY WRITING!! i'm obsessed with him and him only using petnames and also i see this as a scenario being quite early into your relationship with him <3 and basically this being the first time he says "i love you" to you (without realizing it) and you realizing you love him (and being too sleepy to say it)(this makes more sense once you read the drabble)

mango anon, if you see this <3 this is us <3 this is me making u almond butter toast <3

cw: food, talk about food chemistry and how your brain converts food to melatonin using carbs yay science! work is not exactly proofread

you’ve been waiting in your living room for the past 10 minutes.

well, actually, you’ve been waiting for the past two hours to go to sleep but your brain won't let you, no matter how tired you feel.

finally giving up any chance of falling asleep soon in your bed, you let the screen of your phone blind you as you shoot a quick text to your boyfriend:

y/n : taro are you awake? i can’t sleep :( insomnia’s kicking my ass again

you collapse back onto your pillow, throwing your phone haphazardly to your side with a groan. almost immediately, your head pops back up again at the sound of a buzz, and you blindly reach for your phone, looking at its screen.

rin <3 : yeah i am

rin <3 : give me 10 min

you weren’t entirely sure what he had meant by that; if he was busy, and would reply again in 10 minutes or if he was coming over.

you hoped it was the latter, but you'd find out soon enough. in the meantime, you moved to your living room, curled up on your couch under a heavy blanket, dimly lit by the warm light of a nearby lamp as you watched the seconds go by on your phone.

you always slept better with him, whether he was holding you in his arms or he was just simply in the room with you, it felt nice to be in his presence. just the thought of him was slowly making your eyes start to droop before the sound of the door unlocking made you perk up.

there he was, gently swinging your door open, a white plastic bag in hand. his yellow eyes fell on you as you looked him up and down, obviously judging his poor taste in clothing (sweats and a t-shirt) despite it being the middle of winter.

“hi baby,” he whispers, kicking off his shoes before immediately making a beeline towards you. you were peeking out from over the arm of your couch, and he knelt on the floor at the side of the couch, chin propped against the arm of it where you were, leaning in towards your face. there was a smile on his own as he spoke, “don’t fall asleep now, i just got here.”

you can only sigh quietly in response, happy to finally see him. “can’t help it,” you mumble, “‘was thinking of you.”

his smile only grows at your words, and he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting a hand run down the side of your face, caressing it carefully. “you’re cute when you’re tired, doll,” he teases as you lean into his touch, too tired to even respond. “at least let me take care of you before you fall asleep though, yeah? i went to the store for you after all.”

“you didn’t have to buy me anything,” you whisper, reaching an arm out to him, trying to get him to join you on the couch.

he grabs your hand, rubbing a thumb lovingly over the back of it, but doesn’t let you pull him down, “of course i’ll buy you things, y/n. i love you. can i make you something to eat?”

you hum in thought, thinking about if you really want to allow him to move you, but when he tugs gently at your arm, you get up (begrudgingly) bringing your blanket with you to the kitchen.

you rest your arms on the counter you’re sitting at, lazily watching his figure move through your kitchen, pulling items out of his bag. “what’re you doing?” you eventually question, eyeing his selection of groceries with confusion. the jug of milk you can understand, but not the jar of what you assume to be jam and a nut butter.

“‘making you toast,” he answers, rummaging through your drawers for a knife, “my sister used to have trouble sleeping sometimes too, and she’d always wake me up instead of our mom so i had to figure out what helped.”

“and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are supposed to help you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting up to rest your head on your hand as you watch him pull a plate from your cupboard.

the bread he dropped into your toaster pops back up as he corrects you, “almond butter. my sister hates peanut butter, and rightfully so. almonds are better.” he continues talking as he places the toasted bread on the plate he grabbed, “i had to google what kind of foods you should eat when you can’t sleep and it’s the first suggestion i saw. the almonds have something in them that gets converted to melatonin using the carbs from the bread and jam, or something like that.”

you nod along like you really care about whatever science he’s rambling about when really, all you can pay attention to is how nice his voice is. ever since he entered your apartment, you’ve realized how much he was all you needed to sleep. you’re slowly getting more attached to him and the longer you date him, the more sure you are that you love him, too.

he slips into the seat next to you, sliding the plate of toast over to you. you mumble a small thanks, biting into the sandwich before opting to lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder while the rest of your body is wrapped in the heavy blanket you brought from your couch.

you hum in satisfaction, deciding that maybe rintarou was right about whatever science is behind the contents of this sandwich, or maybe he just needs to research the effect he has on you. you’re sure just being in his presence is sending melatonin straight to your brain–or however he said that works. “rin,” you hum, eyes closed as you remain leaning against him.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he asks. one of his arms has moved to wrap around your back, holding you close while one of his fingers grazes the skin of your arm, drawing lazy circles onto it.

“will you stay the night, too?” you ask, taking another bite of the sandwich.

he can’t help but smile, watching you snuggle up against him, scooting your chair and plate closer to him, closing the gap between you two. “of course, love, if that’s what you want,” he whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair.

you nod in response to the statement, holding up your sandwich to his mouth for him to take a bite of. “you're good at making sandwiches, but i think all i need is you to fall asleep,” you mumble tiredly and he chuckles.

“if you fall asleep here, i’ll have to carry you to your bed, you know,” he warns, but you're already drifting in and out of sleep, the plate on the table in front of you both now empty, besides a few crumbs of bread.

“that’s okay,” you try to say, fighting a losing battle against the sleep that's slowly overtaking you. “you can do it,” your last words of encouragement make his heart twist before your head lolls slightly, and he knows you’ve knocked out.

taglist: @akaakeis @wyrcan @daisy-room @eggyrocks @cheriisae @alexithemiyatic @kameyyy @iiwaijime @chaotic-neutral-ig @bakery-anon @kakeru-eem

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

More Than Enough

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Rating: T

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever. Technically part of my Men I Always Meant to Write For non-series series.

Length: 9.9K

Warnings: Angst. Angst angst angst angst, mentions of reader having anxiety, friends to enemies to lovers, has a happy ending

Summary: Mr. Ross (Mike, he’d insisted, but you knew that you had to keep the formalities up for your own sakes) introduced Beth first, giving you a chance to just—look. You’d never bothered to catch up with Harvey once he’d gotten a job in New York. You knew that he was there, of course. The few friends that you had kept in touch with from Harvard had told you. You’d heard his name every couple of months regarding some case that he had tried, some deal that he’d closed. But you couldn’t imagine what you’d say to him if you turned up, and you weren’t sure that you wanted to know what he’d say to you—if he’d have anything to say to you.

There were a lot of things that you remembered about Harvey. You remembered his dimples, and the freckles peppering his shoulders; you remembered the way his eyes lit up when he hit on something good; you remembered the casual, almost bored way that he answered questions in class. Most of all, you remembered how he looked at you.

Harvey used to look at you with warmth, and teasing. He used to watch you hunker over your books and notes, stare you down when he was determined to come out on top in an argument. He used to peer up at you as he tried not to fall asleep on your shoulder, sharing the train ride back to spend the odd weekend in New York.

You remembered the way his gaze used to send nervous butterflies swirling through you. The way his smile made your face go hot, and your heart pound in your chest.

You remembered so many things about how Harvey made you feel, things that you held on to for such a long time—and they were in direct conflict with the way Harvey looked at you when you walked into the conference room that morning.

Something funny had happened in your gut when you’d heard his voice, the way he was warning his associate that he would, “Handle this one, and we’ll be outta here in five minutes.”

As you rounded into the room, you could see that his associate wasn’t convinced; you couldn’t blame him. You’d put up a hell of an argument with Mr. Ross a couple of days before, which had no doubt prompted him to return with backup. Now, you felt the first stirrings of panic, faced with a past you'd tried to forget, but you were too close to the conference room to turn tail, and with Beth already two steps deeper inside, it was too late to bail out. You’d promised her that you’d stick to her side through this ordeal. She couldn’t afford a real lawyer, and the few that you’d spoken to about pro bono work just didn’t have the bandwidth to help her case. The rest of your coworkers had been overwhelmingly supportive, your boss included—you couldn’t think of any other employer that would let a lawyer come and speak with Beth at her workplace without raising a stink about it.

Mr. Ross (Mike, he’d insisted, but you knew that you had to keep the formalities up for your own sakes) introduced Beth first, giving you a chance to just—look. You’d never bothered to catch up with Harvey once he’d gotten a job in New York. You knew that he was there, of course. The few friends that you had kept in touch with from Harvard had told you. You’d heard his name every couple of months regarding some case that he had tried, some deal that he’d closed. But you couldn’t imagine what you’d say to him if you turned up, and you weren’t sure that you wanted to know what he’d say to you—if he’d have anything to say to you.

Harvey looked good. Self-assured, confident, wearing a bright, charming smile as he shook Beth’s hand. You could hear Mike introducing you, and had just a moment to brace as recognition his recognition swelled.

It took over his expression entirely as he met your eye.

Harvey’s gaze flickered, brow furrowing a touch. The dimples disappeared as his lips dropped from a smile to a stunned purse. You shook his hand where it had frozen, a quick, firm pump before you let go.

“Please,” You gestured to the small conference table before you set your things down. The space wasn’t at all grand, it was…Homey. Surely not the sort of spaces these two were used to, if the suits were anything to go by.

“I appreciate your persistence, Mr. Ross,” Beth started, tucking a stand of greying hair behind her ear as she tried to steady her nerves, “But my position hasn’t changed since the last time we spoke.”

You glanced from your elderly coworker toward Mr. Ross. Just out of the corner of your eye, you could see Harvey watching you closely. The feeling was at once familiar and foreign; it made your stomach turn.

“Ms. Owens, I recognize that our client has put you in a difficult position—” Mr. Ross started. You had to clench your jaw to keep from rolling your eyes as he went on, “But the valuation that we’ve offered for you to change the name of your LLC and sell the site is incredibly generous.”

You did smile, then. Hell, you couldn’t help it.

“You disagree?”

Your stomach lurched at Harvey’s question, and you looked toward him. Oh—you knew that expression. His eyes were narrowed; his lips were curled into a smirk that dared you to argue with him.

“Isn’t that obvious? If we didn’t disagree, none of us would be in this room right now,” You pointed out.

“We’ve spoken to our client,” Mike cut in, drawing your attention again, “And he’s authorized us to bump the offer up to $100,000.”

You let that hang in the air for a few moments, brows raising when Mike gave a small, encouraging nod.

“That’s it?” You retorted dryly. “You expect me to believe that a pharmaceutical company with a market value of over three hundred billion dollars is willing to drop a whole 100K? How overwhelmingly generous.”

“Do I need to point out that your cash-grab is standing in the way of medical progress?” Harvey argued.

“Oh, please,” You scoffed. “It's a dick pill, Harvey.” You tried to ignore the stunned, slap-shocked look when you used his name, pushing on—“And if you’d read the comparative studies that the company did, you’d know that it works with roughly a third of the effectiveness of the market leaders. This isn’t exactly going to blow the toupee off of Viagra, no matter what your client says.”

“We could bury you under fees and paperwork.”

“Whoa, Harvey,” Mike muttered beside him, casting him a wary look. You could feel Beth shifting nervously beside you as well. You forced yourself to be calm, and to smile a little, even as your stomach flipped. You’ve done your homework; you’ve prepped. You can do this.

“Yes,” You nodded, “You could. But you’d be doing so at the expense of a woman who has owned and operated a company out of her studio apartment under this name since 1995. What Beth has here isn’t just a little stumbling block for your client—it’s an institution, with hundreds of annual customers and testimonials speaking to the way her products have improved their lives. This may be a blip for your client, but it’s a significant part of Beth’s life. And considering the recent, sharp drop in the company’s stock price and the uptick in legal suits, I wouldn’t be surprised if you all need a win right now. If you railroad us, we will go public with your client’s intimidation tactics.”

“Intimidation—?” Harvey snapped.

“Oh, have they not mentioned the non-stop late-night phone calls, the people following Beth to and from home? The private investigators? The threatening letters?”

You watch Harvey’s expression mar with surprise. You can’t help but chuckle then.

“C’mon. You should know better.” You look down at the folder in front of you. “The fact of the matter is, my client has had to endure a mountain of shit for what is only a marginally effective aid for erectile dysfunction—one that’s projected to make your client nearly $18 million in its first quarter on the market. If you need to close anyone, it’s on your side, not ours. You either bump the offer up a mill, or we go to the press with what we have.” You drew two copies of an article out of your folder, sliding it across the table to them. “Just a little taste.”

“Excuse me?” You heard. The four of you turned your attention to the office secretary, who was lingering in the doorway. Right on time, just as you asked. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a call. I can have them hold—“

“No, that’s alright,” You shook your head before turning back to the men on the other side of the table, subtly waving for Beth to stand. “We’re done here. Thank you for your time, Mr. Ross. Harvey, always a pleasure.”

You led the way out, holding the door open for Beth. Vindication shot through you as you just caught Mr. Ross asking, “What the hell was that?”

--  

She was all over the page. Harvey had given the article a couple of passes while he was in the car on the way back to the office, but reading it through again, he felt that even if she hadn’t handed it to him herself, he somehow would’ve known that it was hers. 

The argument that Mike was having with Craig Philbrook seemed almost muted to him as he read it for a third time. It was a concise presentation of the facts, but it hit the exact emotional points that it needed to. It was beautifully balanced. Harvey could almost imagine her curled over her laptop, drawing up a draft, editing it with expert precision. He’d seen her work like that before. Sure, it had been a long time ago, but the sight of her hunkered down in Langdell Hall had never really left him—not even when he’d done his best to push it away. 

“Harvey!” 

He glanced up, brows raising. Craig’s face was the shade of a cherry tomato, and seemed just about ready to pop. His chest was heaving from what must’ve been a spirited bout of argument with Mike. Glancing at his associate, Harvey found Mike wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, at an equal fever pitch. He considered for a moment more before he tossed the article onto the table. 

“We don’t have any choices here, Craig,” He admitted. 

“A million dollars? That’s insane!” 

“Actually, considering what the company expects to pull in almost a eighty mill in the first year, one million is pretty reasonable.” 

“Whose side are you on?” 

“I’m on yours, Craig. Look, if you wanna action your plan, we’ll sic the dogs on ‘em. But the press is never gonna side with a company that’s putting a little old lady through her extreme financial and emotional distress just for a landing page. If we settle outside of court, slap an NDA on top, none of this ever comes out. Keep it clean.” Harvey pushes himself out of his seat, standing and buttoning his suit jacket before taking the article up again. “Talk to who you need to talk to, but do it fast. Every incident that they noted is another ticking time bomb that we may have to worry about diffusing.” He rounded his seat, heading for the door before he paused and turned back. “Oh, and Craig? Quit having her called and followed. You’re just giving them more rope to hang you with.” 

He turned away, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strode down the hall, Mike in tow. 

“You think he’ll cave?” Mike asked. 

“He will. He has to.” 

“Okay—Question.” 

“Is it related to the case?” 

“Yes. What the hell was that?” 

“That was me doing my job. The job you were supposed to handle, and you're welcome, by the way.” 

“I don’t mean back there, I mean this morning.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit.” 

Harvey cast an irritated glance back toward Mike as he walked into his office. It was no surprise that Mike followed; once he got something in his head, he couldn’t let it go. Neither of them could. 

“She said seeing you was always a pleasure,” Mike added as Harvey settled behind his desk. 

“Maybe she was just trying to get under my skin.” 

“Seems like it worked, and I’ve never seen anyone but Tanner do that. How do you know one another?” 

Harvey considered. He didn’t know her, not really. Not anymore. 

“We went to Harvard together,” He finally admitted. 

“She’s a lawyer?” 

“No.” Maybe? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t checked the bar for her name in a long time. 

“So she…Did what with her degree?” 

“As far as I know, she never got it. She dropped out, middle of our second year.” 

“Why?” 

“No idea.” 

“Come on, you can tell me.” 

“Don’t you have a brief to write or a motion to file.” 

Mike was quiet for a moment, gaze sweeping Harvey’s face before his mouth fell open in slight surprise. 

“...Oh, my god, you really have no idea,” He managed.

“Why are you still standing here?” 

“Does Donna know?” 

“Why would she?” 

“Because she knows everything.” 

“Well, I doubt she would know this.” 

“You’re deflecting. She definitely knows.” 

“Go ahead and ask her.” 

Mike’s mouth works wordlessly again before he turns his head just a little. 

“...She doesn’t know.” 

“She does not.” 

“Unless she does, and you’re trying to double psychy-psych me into not getting an answer.” 

“Then go ahead and ask.” 

“...She doesn’t know.” 

“Are you asking?” 

“If she does know—” 

“You could be doing this on the other side of the door.” 

“Okay.” 

Harvey relaxed a bit as Mike leaned back in his seat, then smiled as he heard Mike call out, “Donna?” 

He shook his head, taking up a baseball from behind his desk and turning his chair to gaze out of the window, turning the ball over and over in his hands. Mike wasn’t entirely wrong. If there was anyone in the city who may somehow know what happened, he was almost certain it was Donna. Harvey sure as hell didn’t know what had happened. 

Harvey could still remember the shock of it—turning up to goad her into going to get dinner with him, only to find that her half of the room was completely cleared out. Her roommate had told Harvey that she didn’t know where she’d gone, didn’t have a number to reach her. Harvey had chased answers down within his means. He’d gone after phone numbers that he’d used and found them disconnected; he’d stopped by her apartment building and asked the doorman for information, even tried to bribe him, but the man hadn’t let a single word slip. Harvey had waited outside for hours in the hopes of seeing her, but had come up with nothing.

No call, no note, not a word of warning or explanation. Harvey hadn’t been worth saying goodbye to then, and he apparently hadn’t been worth saying goodbye to today. 

His gaze dropped to the baseball in his hands, his thumb sweeping across the stitching as his chest fluttered with bitterness. Mike hadn’t come back in, so he was almost certain that Donna didn’t have the answers. Harvey eyed the article on his desk, frown deepening. 

Maybe Harvey would have to get the answers for himself. 

-- 

“Um—Did you happen to see Gerald’s email?” 

“Nope,” You hardly looked away from your laptop screen as Beth sidled up to your desk. “What’s up?” 

“He wants another SWOT analysis.” 

You closed your eyes in irritation, drawing in a deep breath. 

“Of course he does. Thanks for flagging.” You opened your email, glancing over when you realized Beth was still standing there. “Everything okay?” 

“...Just, I haven’t heard anything yet, from…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I just wonder if we were too aggressive.” 

You nodded a little, offering her a reassuring smile. 

“If anything, they’ll counter, maybe for half a mill.” 

“But…What that other man had said about burying us in fees, and paper—”

You turned your chair, taking Beth’s wizened hands in yours. 

“He’s not going to do that,” You swore. “They’d screw themselves over if they did, and they know it. They’re probably just ironing out paperwork. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Beth’s eyes darted between yours before she finally nodded. You gave her hands a gentle squeeze before you let go, turning back to your laptop as she walked away. You bit your lip, peering at your laptop screen. Your eyes scanned it, but you weren’t really taking anything in. You were just as panicked as Beth was that you hadn’t heard anything from the firm. It either meant something very good, or very bad. But you didn’t dare let Beth know how nervous you were. If it hadn’t gone your way—if the company decided to take Beth down—you would never forgive yourself.

You drew in a deep, shaky breath, curling your fingers into your palms and trying to shake off the oncoming shivers trickling down your spine. You’d always hated this feeling—the fear of loss, the swell of hopelessness. You hadn’t felt either so acutely in a long time. You’d been happy for it; you hadn’t missed them. Arguing with Harvey had brought you back to the contentious moments in law school, the panic of not knowing who the professor would call on next, the fear of tripping over your words in front of a dozen of your peers—

You closed your eyes for a moment, drawing in another deep breath and forcing your mind calm. You weren’t in law school anymore. You were a manager at a marketing firm. You did good work. You liked your job. The life that you led was more than enough. The people that you answered to were satisfied with your results—and whatever happened to Beth could be overcome. You were certain. 

You opened the email from Gerald, reading it through before you CC’d Anne from finance, Jason from legal, and your boss before you typed out your response: 

Hi Gerald, 

Per our contract, we’ve completed the four SWOT analyses that we’ve been contracted for this year. Happy to take this conversation offline to discuss renegotiation.

-- 

“I’m going out.” 

Donna sprang up at the warning, striding to catch up with Harvey. 

“Going out where?” 

“I need some air.” 

“There isn’t enough air in your office?” 

“I like outside air. The exhaust, the cigarette smoke, the waft of salt from the hot dog vendor.” 

Donna arched a brow, folding her arms across her chest as Harvey hit the down button for the elevator. 

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the woman that Mike asked me about last week, would it?” She asked. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh no?” 

“Nope.” 

“Too bad. Her LinkedIn, Instagram, and Bumble profile were very interesting.” 

Harvey arched a brow, glancing toward Donna before he stepped onto the elevator. 

“Since when are you on Bumble?” 

“I have a few profiles for research purposes.” 

Harvey shook his head, smiling and casting his gaze toward the elevator floor as the doors closed. 

--  

When someone came to a stop at your desk, you assume that it’s Beth, or your boss—someone that you worked with. When they didn’t speak, you glanced up, and realized immediately that it was a mistake. Harvey was standing there, his hands in his pockets as he waited to have your attention. You dropped your gaze back to the screen, clearing your throat.

“I’m assuming if you’re here in person again, it’s bad news,” You commented. Harvey’s lips pouted as he seemed to consider. 

“Depends on what you consider bad news.” 

“I consider Beth getting screwed out of her fair share as bad news.” 

“Well, then I have good news and bad news.” 

“Okay.” 

“The good news is, my client is ready to settle out of court for the requested amount, provided an NDA is signed.” 

“I’d need to see that before she signed it.” 

“Of course.” 

Your brow furrowed. 

“Then what’s the bad news?”

“There’s one more contingency to the deal being signed.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“Get a drink with me.” 

Your gaze narrowed, and you couldn’t help but lean back in your seat, arms folding across your chest. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“Not at all.” 

“If I refuse?” 

“Beth will still get her settlement. But,” Harvey tipped his head from side to side, “It’ll probably take way longer.” 

“How much longer?” 

“Pff…Anywhere from a few months to a year. To be perfectly honest, my client doesn’t want to pay out. I mean, he will, because he knows that our advice is the right way to go, but I can gum up the works.” 

You pushed out a stunned scoff. 

“You’d seriously do that for a drink with me?” 

“We each have something the other wants.”

“What the hell could I possibly have that you want?” 

“Answers.” Harvey's critical gaze skimmed your rapidly heating face. “So? Are you busy tonight?” 

-- 

You felt out of place. The bar was nice, and everyone seems dressed for it…Except you. Well, your workplace was fairly casual. It was rare that you met with clients in person. You dressed up in those instances, of course, but your day-to-day work wear is jeans and a nice shirt. You were trying not to shift uncomfortably, or fidget to adjust your cardigan, or the shirt underneath. You glanced up toward the waiter, offering a small smile as he set your drink down. 

You picked up your glass, drawing in a long, slow sip. You’d spent the last five hours distracted at work, torn between trying to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Harvey, what sort of questions he could have. You already knew that this was more likely to be an interrogation than a friendly chat. 

He was drawing it out, too. He was taking a slow sip of his own, watching you like his gaze could drill through your skull. 

Maybe it could. He was certainly trying hard enough. 

“So?” You pressed, unable to help the silence. His lips twitched. Ugh, he’d wanted you to cave first, and you had played right into his hand. Bastard. 

“Did you ever finish your law degree?” He asked. 

Embarrassment prickled your skin. The conversation was going to be a roller coaster if that was where he was starting. 

“No.” 

“Never went back to Harvard?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I had no reason to.” 

“Not even to visit? Maybe pick up something you forgot?” 

“I didn’t forget anything when I left.” 

“Why did you leave?” 

“Irrelevant.” 

“I find it very relevant.” 

“I disagree.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“Are you?” 

“Not particularly.” 

“Move on.” 

“Speaking of moving on, you seemed to do that very quickly.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You disappeared. No one could get in contact with you.” 

“I didn’t want contact with anyone.” 

“So you just dropped off of the face of the earth, for what? Fun?” 

You shifted in your seat a little, fingers pressing into your palms where they were hidden in your lap. 

“Trust me, nothing that happened to me then was fun.” 

“Why should I trust you?” 

Your stomach lurched; your hands tightened in your lap. 

“Take my word for it, then,” You corrected. 

“Your word isn’t worth anything to me.” 

You averted your gaze, jaw tightening as you leaned back in your seat. Maybe you could just slam the drink back and go. You could hear Harvey leaning forward in his seat. 

“Tell me,” He pressed, “What happened.” 

“Why does it matter to you?” 

“This has been a giant question mark for me for a long time. You know I hate loose ends.” 

You drew in a deep breath, leg beginning to bounce beneath the table as your nervous energy swelled. 

“I couldn’t do it anymore,” You finally admitted. 

“What?” 

“I couldn’t do…Harvard Law. That environment, I couldn’t do it. Look, I loved it at the start, I loved the feeling of getting in, but once I was in, it was too much.” 

You couldn’t meet his eye; his look was as heavy as ever. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” He asked after a moment. You scoffed a laugh, raising your brows as you finally brought yourself to look at him.

“Are you serious?…Harvey, you were allergic to feelings.” It was a little vindicating to see Harvey shift in his seat as you went on, “If I’d told you that I was struggling, you would’ve told me to buck up, that it wasn’t that hard, that I just needed to put my head down. You don’t respond weakness, you can’t fucking stand it.”

“You did just need to put your head down.”

Your mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, lips curling into a hysterical smile as you breathed, “Oh, my god—” Because there it was. There was the answer you’d expected years ago.

“You were top ten!” Harvey argued. “You were this close to knocking me off out of the top five.”

“I was losing my shit!” You lowered your voice, leaning in. “I couldn’t sleep. I was having panic attacks every time I left my room. I couldn’t handle it, alright? I’m not like you.”

“No, you’re not. I wouldn’t have given up.”

It was like a slap. You bit the inside of your cheek before you leaned back, nodding. You could feel your throat going thick as your eyes welled with tears.

“Okay,” You reached into your pocket, drawing your wallet out for a twenty as you stood. “Well thank you for this lovely trip down memory lane.”

“Sit down.”

“Fuck you.”   

You didn’t even care that your language drew the attention of the other patrons. You just strode out of there as quickly as you possibly could, hands fumbling for your phone to get a car. Maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising that you heard his footsteps behind you moments later. It pushed you to walk faster, to keep him from seeing your watering eyes.

“Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that you’re turning tail and running,” He sounds almost bored, “You’re so good at it.” 

“Leave me alone, Harvey.” 

“You know, I had the wildest theories back then. Kidnapped by a foreign government, taken by aliens, activated sleeper agent. It’s a bummer to find out that you were just a coward.” 

“Stop it,” You warned, shoving the door open and striding through it. You heard his palm hitting the wood behind you to keep the door from hitting him in the face, and you were desperate to escape it in the city noise. Harvey pushed on as if you haven’t said a thing:

“I used to think we were one and the same, but I would never have done what you did. I never would’ve just disappeared. Why didn’t you trust me—” His fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you to turn to him. His diatribe seemed to falter as he took in the tears slipping over your heated cheeks. You twisted your wrist out of his grip, tucking your arms around your middle and keeping your gaze anywhere but Harvey. 

“...You could’ve talked to me,” Harvey finally said. 

“You would’ve told me then exactly what you said just now, and that was the last fucking thing I needed back then. Frankly, it’s the last fucking thing I need right now.” 

“Look at me.” 

“No, you—You got your answers, alright? Get Beth her settlement.”

“You want me to get her settlement for you?” 

“I want you to get it for her. Because she deserves it. So, get her the money, the money she’s earned, and just…Just leave me alone.” 

You turned away from him again, getting just a little relief from the fact that you don’t hear him following you. 

You spent the night worrying that your answers won’t be enough, that Harvey would go out of his way to bury Beth in paper, screw her over to the point where you had to go back to knocking on the doors of firms willing to take her case on a pro bono basis. 

But when you turned up to work and Beth practically clobbered you with an excited hug, you knew that he hadn’t gone out of his way to fuck you over. You let out a sigh, patting Beth on the back and letting out a relieved laugh as repeated her thanks. 

--  

“Be nice.” 

That had been your boss’s only warning as you’d headed into a conversation with Gerald. And you had every intention of being nice. But you also wanted to be realistic. You glanced from the finance rep to the landline in the middle of the conference table as Gerald groused, “There's no need to be unreasonable.” 

“I don’t think us upholding our end of the contract is unreasonable," You argued. "We’ve done the SWOT analyses that you asked for in the past, and we’ll be happy to do them again. But we need to adjust the contract.” 

“You can’t just do a one-off and bill me extra?” 

“We could, but if we open that door, you’re just going to keep coming in, Gerald.”

“This is ridiculous,” He snapped. “I can cut this contract.” 

“Yeah, you can,” You nodded. “You are absolutely at liberty to do that.” You heard the sound of a door opening to the conference room, but you felt your focus locked-in to the phone. “But if you cut this contract, that’s going to cost you a lot of time and a lot of money. We have a guaranteed pay clause regardless of termination, so if you cut us loose, you’re still going to have to pay us for the full year. While you’re still shelling out cash to us, you’ll have to pay to bring on another firm. You’d be better off negotiating the additional SWOT analyses instead of paying two firms off at once.” 

You were quiet for a moment, brows raising as you and your associate waited in silence. You closed you eyes, holding your breath. Please, please please—

“How many SWOT analyses would I get with the increased cost?” He finally asked. 

“That’s up for negotiation,” Anne hurried to reply. “As it is, you’re averaging one per month. If we push it to a dozen, we could work with you to discount them at 25%.” 

Another pause. Another moment of you holding your breath, of please, please please please please—

“Send the revised contract.” 

“It’s already in your inbox," You admitted. "Thanks, Gerald.” 

“Yeah.” 

You reached out, stabbing the button to hang the phone up before he could change his mind. You sighed, slowly leaning back in your seat and peering up at the ceiling. Christ, you felt dizzy. 

“You can’t keep bullying our clients,” Anne grumbled.

“Our clients can’t keep bullying us. If we keep going the way we’re going, we’ll be the firm that does triple the work for half the pay. We’re too good for that.”  

“She’s right.” 

His voice made you whirl around in your seat, heart sinking into your stomach. Harvey stood just inside the room, his hands tucked into his pockets. Heat prickled along your neck. How long had he been there? Shit, you’d thought your boss had been the one to come in— 

You glanced toward Anne with a guilty smile. 

“Can we get a minute here?” 

“Sure,” She nodded, pushing herself out of her seat. Harvey grasped the door handle, holding it open and shooting her a wide smile as she walked past. You stood as well, folding your arms across your chest before hurriedly lowering them to tuck into your pockets. You wanted to mirror him, look as nonchalant as he did, not all twisted up and shielded and defensive. Oh, you were cool as a cucumber. Definitely no reason to worry here, no way. 

Harvey closed the door, stepping a little deeper inside. 

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Specter?” 

“Thought I’d come see how Beth’s planning on using her retirement check, how you’re going to use your fee.” 

You frowned. “What fee?” 

“You didn’t charge her a fee? Standard in New York is 40%.” 

“I wouldn't take Beth’s hard-earned money.” 

“You earned it, too, considering how hard you defended your client.” 

“Beth was not a client. This was a favor for a friend.” 

“That’s funny, because you called her that during our conversation.” 

“No, I didn’t.”  

“Yes, you did. You said that your client had had to endure a, what was it…‘Mountain of shit’?” 

“Well, that is true,” You muttered. “It was a mountain of shit.”

“Could’ve been two mountains of shit.” 

“But it wasn’t, so. I thank you for that.” 

“It’s only fair. You did what I asked, you answered most of my questions.” 

“Most?” You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “What the hell else could you want to know?” 

“You wanna do this here?” 

“I don’t wanna do this at all.” 

“Why didn’t you come to me?” 

“Harvey.” 

“I didn’t have a clue—” 

“I am not doing this here.” You spoke more firmly than you felt. “This is my place of work.” 

“Well when I tried to do this elsewhere, you walked out on me.” 

“And yet you followed.” 

“Because I had a chance to this time. I didn’t get the chance back then."

You shook your head, averting your gaze. 

“Look,” Harvey stepped closer. “I’m just asking for a chance.” 

“Last night wasn’t enough for you?” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Well, it was for me. Hell of a flashback, just like old times. Same old Harvey, not knowing when to back off. Strong, direct, painful line of questioning—all gas, no breaks.” 

Harvey was quiet for a moment, eyes skating over your face. 

“It won’t be an interrogation again.” 

“How can I know that?” 

“I was angry last night.” 

“And you’re not now?” 

“...Not in the same way.” 

“Oh, well. That’s a relief.” 

“I just want to understand. Help me understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

“How one of the smartest people I’ve ever known changed her mind all that time ago, and then flexed the hell out of her legal muscles to get me to close in ten goddamn minutes.” 

“People change, Harvey.” 

“You haven’t.” 

The two of you watched one another for a long, contentious, quiet moment before he said, “You need to come to my office.” 

“What for?” 

“To read over the NDA before Beth signs it.” 

Fuck, the NDA. You’d forgotten about that. 

“Fine," You nodded. "When.” 

“How’s tomorrow work for you?” 

“Tomorrow's a Saturday. You’re gonna do this on a weekend?” 

“Gives us time to turn around any edits you need before you give it to Beth on Monday.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek. Goddamnit. 

“Fine,” You agreed. “How’s seven?” 

“Sure. We can grab dinner—” 

“In the morning.” 

Harvey’s brow jumped, his chin tipping down a touch.

“Are you serious?” He asked. 

“Completely. You wanna get this NDA into your associate’s hands as quickly as possibly, right?” 

“You expect me to be in my office at seven in the morning so you can read something.” 

“You could’ve saved us both a trip and just brought it with you.” 

“It’s still being worked on.”

“Well, you can have someone messenger it over tonight and I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning. Or is it long enough that you’re going to, um…Gosh, what was that neat little threat, again? Bury me in paper?” 

You saw something flash across Harvey’s face. You didn’t know if it was remorse, or what—but it’s gone as soon as it appears. 

“Fine,” He bit out. “Seven. In the morning.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“Don’t be late.” 

“Oh, I won’t. I’m very punctual.” 

“I remember.” 

Your stomach flipped. Of course he did. He turned away, opening the door…And holding it open. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, raising your brows. 

“Are you coming?” 

“Are we camping out outside of your office overnight? You strike me as a glamping guy.” 

“I thought you were leaving the room.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Your meeting is over.” 

“I have a quiet room and a SWOT analysis to work on.” 

“You’re telling me you haven’t done it already?” 

Your face went hot at the accusation, lips pressing to hold in your irritation at the way Harvey smiled. You were relieved when he finally turned away. It gave you a chance to sink down in your chair and parse through what the hell just happened. 

--  

“Oh, wow. You’re early.” 

You raised your brows at the tone of surprise, eyeing the entrance to the building, and then turning your attention back to the young man that had just sprung up in your way. 

“Yes, I am. Good morning, Mr. Ross.” 

“Please, call me Mike. Not on the other side of the table anymore.” 

“Well, until that NDA gets signed, yes, you are, so. Excuse me.” 

You made to step around him, but he stepped into your way again. 

“I just wanted to say,” He added, “That I really admire how hard you worked for Beth, and I completely agreed with your assessment of the company’s value.” 

“...Thank you, I appreciate that. Now, if you could just—” 

You side-stepped him again—and again, Mike got in your way, pressing: 

“I honestly didn’t think they’d cave for a million, but you really showed them—” 

“Mike?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did Harvey ask you to make me late?” 

Mike’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, panic marring his features. You smiled sweetly. 

“You know, I’m not sure what Harvey has told you about our past, but he probably didn’t mention that we were in an intramural dodgeball league. I can throw some mean elbows when I’m trying to get what I want, and you look like you bruise easily. So if you’d like to keep your ability to bend comfortably, please step aside and let me in.” 

Mike pursed his lips before he nodded once, stepping aside. 

“Thank you,” You cooed, sliding past him. 

“I really do admire what you did for Beth!” He called out after you. You snorted, shaking your head as you headed to the lobby to get a visitor’s pass. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t more than a little antsy, glancing at your phone as you waited for the elevator, then waited in the elevator. When you stepped off, you found a stunning red-head standing there. Her eyes brightened at the sight of you, and she took a step back as you stepped off of the elevator. 

“Mr. Specter’s office is this way,” She waved for you to follow. You raised your brows, falling into step. 

“Was that a lucky guess, or did you know who to look for?” You asked.

“I knew. I don’t operate on luck.” 

“Right. Did Harvey or Mike show you a picture of me?” 

“Nope. I found pictures myself.” 

“For what purpose?” 

“Curiosity.” 

“Sated?” 

“Very.” 

��Excellent. Do I get to know who you are, or do I have to go sleuthing on the firm’s site after this?” 

“I’m Donna.” 

“And what do you do here?” 

“I just told you,” She stopped, waving you toward an office, “I’m Donna.” 

You raised your brows before you turned, walking into the office. How the hell did he look pristine this early in the morning? Did the bastard sleep in a suit? His brow furrowed at the sight of you, shaking his sleeve back and eyeing his watch. 

“6:59? What the hell did Mike do down there?” 

“He made a valiant attempt, but I got past him.” 

“How?” 

“How did I get past him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Bullshitted him. Told him that we used to play dodgeball together, that I know how to throw a mean elbow. He crumbled like a bran muffin.” 

“Damn.” 

“You really should teach him how to lie. Second I called him on it, he blue-screened.” 

“Trust me, Mike knows how to lie.” 

“Whatever,” You shook your head. “Can I have the NDA so I can go?” 

“Go? Oh, no. This doesn’t leave the office.” 

“...Excuse me?” 

“This document doesn’t leave the building until it’s ready to go to Beth.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” 

Your mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before you snapped it shut. 

“....Fine.” 

Harvey took up the document, holding it out. You fought the urge to snatch it from him, instead taking hold of it before you sat down in one of the seats in front of his desk. 

“Need a pen?” He asked. 

“Nope,” You shrugged off your bag, rooting around in it before drawing out a red papermate felt tip pen. 

“You hungry?” 

Yes, you were. You’d been planning on getting breakfast and a massive coffee before going over the damn thing on your own, in your apartment, but no. Harvey had done what Harvey always does: turned the situation in his favor. 

“No,” You answered, uncapping the pen. 

“Let me know if you change your mind.” 

You didn’t answer to that, you just tipped your head into your hand as you settled in:

THE PARTIES: This Non-Disclosure Agreement (referred to herein as the “Agreement”) created on__________, is by and between…

You were quiet for a moment, tipping your head to the side as you skimmed your finger over the pages. 

“Harvey?” 

“Sure, we can do bagels.” 

Damnit, a bagel sounded so good right now.

“Why is this NDA…” You tipped your head to the side, flipping through the file, “Thirty pages?” 

“Because it needs to be.” 

“Ballpark, this should’ve been six, tops.” 

“You’re dealing with a big company. They want to make sure their bases are covered.” 

You shot Harvey a disbelieving look from under your lashes before you looked back down at the file. 

“Besides,” Harvey added, “It’s not the length, it’s—” 

“—It’s the content, yeah yeah,” You muttered. You heard him huff a soft laugh, but you forced the flutter of butterflies in your belly aside in favor of focusing. Hell, you needed to get through this, and fast. If you weren’t careful, your stomach was going to start grumbling. 

--  

“Here we go.” 

You glanced up, doing a double-take at the sight of the coffee tray in Donna’s hand. You looked back down at your work, finishing a note that you’ve been jotting before you turn the page. You went still when Donna held a cup out to you.

“Sugar-free iced dirty chai with a double shot,” She offered. You raised your brows, taking hold of the cup. 

“You’re good,” You nodded.

“I’m Donna.” 

“I remember.” You couldn’t help but smile at her before you took a greedy sip of the iced chai. Oh man, that hit the spot. You’d been there a while, and you were starting to get a headache. You hadn’t tried to parse through legalese like this in a long time, especially not on an empty stomach. 

“So? Are we doing bagels?” Harvey pressed. You glanced at where he was leaning back against an end table lined with basketballs. He arched his brows. “Come on, it’s been an hour and you’re only halfway through. You’re going to run out of steam if you’re not careful.” 

“...You’re paying for them.”

“Of course.” 

“Then yes, please. Bagels.” 

“They’ll be here in five,” Donna warned, striding past you and back to her desk. 

“She’s very good,” You commented, nodding after her as you turned back to your work, making another note. 

“You really are gonna run out of ink.” 

You fought the urge to mimic him, just going on about your business. 

“I’ve got plenty of pens,” Harvey added. 

“Law firm this big, I’d hope you’d have a few pens.” 

“More than a few. Hundreds.” 

“Mm.” 

“Thousands, even.” 

“If you’re not sure if it’s hundreds or thousands, then maybe you should go count them and get back to me.” 

“You just want me out of the room.” 

“I want you to stop watching me.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s creeping me out.” 

“Did it always?”

“Objection: relevance.” 

“If you allow me a little latitude, I can establish relevance.” 

“No thanks.” 

“Why are you going over this thing with such a fine-tooth comb?” 

“I wanna make sure you don’t screw Beth over somewhere.” 

“You don’t trust me?” 

“I don’t trust your client. You work for your client.” 

“I do what’s best for my client.” 

“And I’m doing what’s best for my friend.” 

“Your due-diligence.” 

“I’m just reading, Harvey.” 

“You and I both know it’s more than that.” 

You ignored the comment, turning to the next page of the NDA. 

“Food’s here,” Harvey spoke up after a few minutes of quiet.

“Thanks.” 

You could hear the rustle of bags as Donna unpacked things before leaving again. 

“...You gonna put that down?” Harvey asked. 

“When I’m finished with it, sure.” 

“What about the bagels?” 

“I’ll take it to go when I’m done here.” 

“Come on, I can hear your stomach growling from here.” 

“My stomach isn’t growling.”

“Not at the moment, but it has been.” 

“I’ll live through eleven more pages.” 

“The bagel will get cold.” 

“I’ll heat it back up.” 

“You’re going to reheat a toasted bagel?” 

“Yes, using the same apparatus that toasted it in the first place.” 

“A twice-toasted bagel is gonna be hard as a rock.”

“Oh well.” 

“And if you don’t eat now, I will use all of the scallion cream cheese.” 

“Knock yourself out.”

“I mean all of it. There’s a ton here, and I probably couldn’t fit all of it on a bagel, so I’d have to go in with a spoon. You want me to do that?” 

“Do whatever the hell you want, Harvey. You usually do.” 

Blessedly, that shut him up for a few moments. 

“So did you,” He countered after a moment. You didn't need a law degree to catch that insinuation.

“I didn’t leave Harvard because I wanted to. I left because I had to.” 

“You chose to.” 

“I made a decision that favored my mental and physical health over my career prospects. There's nothing wrong with that.” 

“You ever regret it?” 

You considered for a moment, gaze drifting from the papers. 

“...Sometimes,” You admitted finally, glancing toward Harvey. “When this whole thing with Beth cropped up, yeah. It was a bummer not to have the full force of the degree behind me. But…If I had become a lawyer, I probably wouldn’t have met Beth, or had enough time to help her, so…” You shrugged, looking back down at the NDA. “It’s not as easy as just regretting it or not regretting it.” 

“You regret leaving everyone behind?” 

“...Yeah. I could’ve been better about the way I did it, but at the time, cutting everyone off felt like the right thing to do.” 

“Even me.” 

“Harvey,” You sighed heavily, “I’m not saying that what I did was right for everyone involved. If I had reached out to you, to Scottie, to any of our friends, maybe I would’ve gotten a different answer, but the way that you reacted to me the other day? When you told me that I was a coward?” You lifted your head to meet his eye. “That was exactly what I was expecting. And you know what, it hurt like hell last night, but there is no way I could’ve handled hearing that from you back then.” 

Harvey’s jaw worked for a moment. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” He admitted softly. “I’m sorry.” 

You hesitated before you nodded a little, turning back to the NDA. 

“If it’s what you felt—” 

“It wasn’t,” Harvey shook his head. “I was mad, and I let it get the better of me.”

“And you’re not mad now?” 

“Not at you for that.” 

“But you are mad at me.” 

“For making me get up to be in the office at seven in the morning? Yeah, I’m outraged.”

You fought back a smile, shrugging.

“Didn’t mean to fuck with your beauty sleep, princess.” 

You turn the page, twiddling the pen between your fingers. 

“You’ll make it up to me.” 

“Will I?” You arched a brow. “How exactly do you think I’m going to do that?” 

“You’ll pay for dinner tonight.” 

“Oh, we’re getting dinner?” 

“I’m fully aware of the vast difference in our salaries, so I’ll pick somewhere with only one Michelin star.” 

“What a generous smug asshole. Time really has changed you.” 

“It hasn’t changed either of us.” 

“I don’t know. I think you’re more of a dick than I remember you being.” 

“I’m blushing.” 

“Sure, Specter.”

“Put the NDA down and have a bagel.” 

“Bossy.” 

“It’s my office, I get to be bossy.” 

“Fine. I’ll take the NDA to a conference room and give us both some space.” 

“Keep your seat, have a bagel, and let me see what you have so far.” 

You didn’t look up until you saw a plate lowered into your field of vision. You arched your brows before you raised the NDA, holding it out to Harvey as you took hold of the plate. You shifted in your seat, sitting up just a bit. Crap, you hadn’t realized how far down you’d slid in your seat over the course of the last hour. You set the bagel aside for a moment, capping your pen and tucking it behind your ear. You twist the top off of the bagel, lapping at the thick layer of cream cheese before taking a bite. You can’t even help the soft, relieved groan that you let out at the taste. 

Damn, you were hungry. 

You glanced across the desk, met by Harvey’s smug smile. 

“Shuddup,” You mumble around the mouthful. 

“Didn’t say anything.” 

“Didn’t have to.” 

You took another bite as Harvey began to flip through the notes that you’d made in the NDA. 

“You’re having fun with this,” He comments. 

“I’m protecting my friend.”

“And you’re having fun doing it.” 

“Sure, Harvey.” 

“You are.” 

“So you’ve upgraded from not analyzing your own feelings to telling everyone else theirs?” 

“Not everyone. Just the people that I know.” 

“Bold claim.” 

“I told you—you haven’t changed. This NDA proves that.” 

“How so?” 

“Because so far, you have marked every single thing that I threw in there to trip you up.” 

You nearly dropped the plate, and the bagel. You completely froze in the middle of your chewing. Harvey’s smug smile widened as he closed the NDA and reached out, taking up another, far thinner file from his desk, holding it out. 

“Here’s the clean one.” 

You reached out, setting the plate down on the desk. You flipped it open, embarrassment beginning to well up as you saw entire passages from the previous NDA—the very ones that you’d spent your time marking—omitted. You nodded for a moment before you muttered, “Okay.” You dropped it into your purse, slung your purse over your shoulder, and stood, taking the remainder of the dirty chai and the bagel with you. 

“Hang on,” Harvey groaned. 

“Nice meeting you, Donna,” You commented, ignoring Harvey as you passed her desk. 

“You too!” She chirped over Harvey’s following, and his call of, “Would you wait a minute!” 

“Why, so you can keep making a fool of me?” You bit out.

“I didn’t do it to make a fool of you, I did it to make a point.” 

“And what point would that be?” 

“That you’re a damn smart person—” 

“I knew that already—” 

“And that you would’ve made an amazing lawyer! You could still make an amazing lawyer!” 

“That doesn’t mean that I want to be one!” You whirled around to face Harvey, face hot and close to his as he comes to a sudden stop to keep from ramming into you. “Just because my goals changed doesn’t make them any less important than yours. I am glad you’re a lawyer. I’m glad you have your corner office, your fancy fucking suits, your title, your position. But I’m glad that I have my life, the way I want it, without all of this. I get that what I did hurt you back then, and I am sorry. But I wasn’t fighting to knock you out of the top five when I was at school. I was fighting for my life. I know that I am smart. I know that I could’ve been an amazing lawyer, but I am happy just being myself as I am, right now. If that’s not enough for you, I don’t give a shit, because it’s my life, not yours.” 

You left Harvey standing alone in the hall, his gobsmacked, stunned expression remaining as you turned away from him and strode to the elevator. He didn’t bother to chase you down this time, which was a relief. You managed to hold it together as the elevator doors slid open, studiously ignoring Mike as he stepped off and greeted you: 

“Hey! Done already?” 

You reached out, jabbing the lobby and door close buttons as quickly as you could. 

--  

Mike’s brow furrowed as she disappeared from sight. He turned away from the elevator, peering around the corner to see who might be nearby. There wasn’t anyone there for a few moments, and then…Harvey, standing there looking stunned and lost. 

“Did she already finish her mark-up?” Mike asked. The question seemed to snap Harvey out of his reverie. He cleared his throat, straightening and turning away. 

“She got halfway. I gave her the clean version.” 

“What? I thought you were only going to give it to her if she caught 95% of the errors."

“She was on track to catch every single one. Spoiling the surprise didn’t seem like such a bad idea.” 

“Is that because this whole endeavor has been a bad idea?” Donna piped up as the two neared her desk.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Harvey warned as he strode past her. 

“I wanna hear it, but I don’t have time, I have uh,” Mike pointed down the hall, “A 10-Q filing to comb through—” 

“Go,” Harvey nodded him away before he turned, heading back into his office. He reached out, taking up her half-marked NDA. His gaze skated over her notes, and it was as if he was transported back to Langdell, to the notes that she would scrawl in his margins, questioning his citations and methodology. 

“...She’s happy as she is.” 

“Donna."

“She said it herself!” 

“She’s not working at her full potential.” 

“Sounded like she preferred it that way. You’ve seen her at work. Is she bad at her job?”

“No.” 

“Good at it?” 

“What’s your point.” 

“My point is,” Dinna leaned in the door frame, “That success looks different to different people. For you, it apparently looks like rubbing someone's skills in their own face. And I think if you keep harping on what might’ve been, she’ll just resent you for it—and if you lose her again, you’ll resent yourself for that, too.” 

Donna raised her brows pointedly before she pushed off of the door frame. Harvey looked after her for a moment before he lowered himself into his seat, tossing the NDA onto his desk. What to do next? 

Bringing her there hadn’t brought him much luck, but so far, going to her had been far more effective. 

--  

“I’m going to file a restraining order.” 

“May as well do it on a full stomach.” 

“I don’t have the NDA here, I sent it back with my edits.” 

“I know.” 

You glanced between Harvey’s calm expression and the bag of takeout that he was holding up. You sighed heavily. You thought you’d been able to shake Harvey, at least for the day. As soon as you’d gotten home, you’d double-checked the NDA, and hadn’t been able to find a thing wrong with it. You’d sent it back with a messenger, unwilling to step foot in that damn office again that day. You’d been certain that that would be in, but there Harvey is. 

“I promised you dinner,” He adds. 

“I thought you said that I’d be the one paying for it.” 

“I take cash and Venmo.”

“Okay—” You drew your hand back to shut the door, but Harvey pressed his palm against the wood before you could. 

“Wait a second.”

“Harvey, I can’t do handle a repeat of this morning.” 

“I’m not asking you to. This morning, I wanted to understand what happened, I got that.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” 

Harvey seemed to have to brace himself. 

“The woman that I knew at Harvard…The woman that I thought I knew—” 

“Thin ice, Specter.”

“—I had a different perspective of you then. I know we can’t blank slate this, but I’d like to get to know you properly, and I want you to get to know me. As adults. I wanna know what I’ve missed.” 

You considered for a long moment, your gaze dropping to the bag of takeout. Letting him in wasn’t the greatest idea. If it went south again, you couldn’t just storm out—it was your apartment. But there were things about Harvey that you’d missed, too; things that you hadn’t been able to learn about through your mutual friends, and things that you couldn’t just get from googling the guy’s name.  

“What’d you get?” You asked finally.

“Chinese.” 

“Dumplings?” 

“Vegetarian, fried.” 

You sighed, stepping back and nodding over your shoulder with a concession of, “Alright.” 

-- 

There were a lot of things that you had remembered about Harvey. But sitting on the floor of your living room, leaning back against your couch as you ate dinner and drank beer was bringing back so much more. Harvard had held so many bad memories that it had nearly crowded out the good ones, the warm ones. But now, as Harvey busted your balls, teased you, ribbed you as he nudged your knee with his, or your arm with his, or your shoulder with his, was bringing back memories of vicious butterflies. 

Oh, you’d had the worst of crushes on this man. It had only been made worse by late nights spent in his dorm, all-nighters pulled at the library, nights spent dancing with him at parties. You’d been certain that there had never been anything there, and you hadn’t pushed it. Harvey had been your friend, a good friend. But now, with the way Harvey’s smiles softened and his gazes lingered, you found yourself wondering if there had ever been anything more, anything that the both of you had buried. 

“...I was sorry to hear about your brother.” 

Your admission came out of a quiet moment, and it sobered the both of you. Harvey nodded a little, lowering his head and looking at the beer in his hands. 

“I would’ve reached out,” You added, “But I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me at that point.” 

“I didn’t.” 

You nodded at his confirmation, and it was your turn to look at the beer in your hands. 

“You knew more about my life than I thought you would,” Harvey added, leaning back against the couch and shifting to face you a little.

“Well, some of our mutual friends kept me informed on the happenings of the great Harvey Specter.” 

“Why didn’t they tell me about you?” 

“I asked them not to.” 

“Why?”

“Figured you hated me.” 

You bit your lip as Harvey reached out, taking the beer out of your hands and setting it on the coffee table. Your stomach flipped as his hand raised, tucking two fingers beneath your chin to turn your head toward him. You hesitantly met his gaze, stunned by the warmth you found there. 

“I never hated you,” He murmured. “I was upset, sure. I was angry, and confused. But I didn’t hate you.”

“Maybe you should’ve.” 

“Couldn’t if I tried.” 

“Did you try?” 

“Yes.” Hervey’s thumb smoothed along your jaw. “But every time I got angry, I worried, too. I had no idea where you were. I didn’t know if you were alright, if you were at another school or dead in a ditch somewhere.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“I know,” Harvey nodded, hand smoothing around to your nape. “But I’ve gotta say, if you ever disappear on me like that again—” 

“You’re done?” 

“I’m gonna send a hundred fucking Pinkertons after you.” 

You scoffed a laugh, brows raising.  “That a threat, Mr. Specter?”

“It’s a promise.”He shifted closer. “I’m not losing you again.” 

“You did fine without me.” 

“I would’ve done better with you.” 

“You didn’t need me! You had Scottie, you had Jessica, you have your career and your suits and your—” 

Before you could say another word, Harvey pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes went a touch wide at the sudden unexpected contact. It was a moment before you let yourself lean into him. You raised your hand hesitantly, resting it on his chest as he drew you closer. Your knees knocked against his as you cuddled against him, humming softly as Harvey sucked your lower lip between his. You leaned back a touch, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“I want you around,” Harvey murmured. “Can’t that be enough?” 

You nodded, sweeping your thumb gently under his collar. 

“It’s enough. More than enough.” 

Taglist: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @20th-centu-fairy-girl

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,046

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next part is here, I had so much fun writing the first part that I just couldn't stop thinking about the next chapter of this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two (here) | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(coming soon)

——————

Your Marine photo lay on Doflamingo’s desk beside a copy of your file, the information sent through by Vergo in record time. It was sitting waiting to be read the second he returned to Dressrosa. One of the Palace’s doctors tended to your injuries while he withdrew to the peace and quiet of his private quarters to get his mind straight. The entire journey home he couldn’t stop but think about the cause for his powers not working on you. Over and over he tried to make sense of it, nothing added up and the longer he thought about it the more agitated he became, desperate for an answer. Desperate for a cure or a fix or whatever you wanted to call it. No one would get the better of him and certainly not some unknown Marine that came across his path at the wrong time. 

Settling into his chair he pushed your photo aside and flicked open the file, lazily reading over the information. He didn't need to know about your past missions or any of that inconsequential nonsense. Doflamingo was searching for something remarkable, a mention of a Devil Fruit, anything in your parentage that could give him some insight in his search for answers. He felt the vein in the centre of his head throb when nothing jumped out at him. As if sensing his unhappiness, the den-den mushi rang and he lifted the receiver, not even bothering to speak first. Vergo’s voice sounded. “Was the file acceptable Doffy?”

“Acceptable in that it's detailed but not what I was looking for.” Doflamingo snapped your file closed and pinched the corner of your photo between his thumb and finger, lifting it to inspect your appearance blankly. “Could anything have been missed?”

“From what I can see everything is accurate and up to date. Medical history, combat and mission logs, specialised training and skills.” Vergo noted, on his end of the call he was looking at your file too checking over everything to ensure he hadn't missed a page or annotation. “Is there something specific you’d hoped to have known?”

“Devil Fruit ability? Something that would render my skills useless against them.” There was a beat of silence from the other end of the call. Vergo found himself genuinely surprised that someone could be unaffected by his master’s power.

“If they possess a Devil Fruit capable of that, they’ve managed to conceal its existence for as long as they’ve been part of the Marines.” Doflamingo glared at your picture, not satisfied at all. “I’ll look into things on my end just in case someone higher up has intentionally kept certain information out of their file.”

“Good.” Doflamingo ended the call and discarded your photo, in one swift movement he rose from the desk and left his room. He suspected you would be awake by now and he was in no mood to just sit back and wait for Vergo to research things. It was time to ask you directly and if you knew what was good for you, you’d answer his questions. 

He slammed the door open and without needing to say a word the doctor fled the room, leaving him alone to stare down at you as you lay on the bed. You were awake as he suspected and staring blankly at the ceiling. You weren’t restrained and you’d only been in here with the doctor, even with your injuries you were most likely capable of overpowering him and escaping had you wanted but in Doflamingo’s view of the situation you looked bored. “Did any of them survive?”

Doflamingo’s grin appeared at your question and he sat on the edge of the doctor’s desk. Still no begging for your life? Not even a curious ask of where you were or what was going to happen. Instead you were looking for confirmation of your unit’s status. “Every single one of them died.” He tilted his head to see you nod in acceptance. “No tears to shed for them?”

“I’ll mourn them privately if I live long enough.” You told him stiffly, training you gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look at the man whose presence filled the room intensely. The memory of what happened at the warehouse was fresh enough and you didn’t need to look at the Warlord. Perhaps if you didn’t feed into his sick entertainment of tormenting you, he’d grow bored and kill you quick. You’d reasoned that was why you were still alive, you’d fallen unconscious too soon before he had his fun. “You’ve been keeping me alive for a reason.”

“I want answers about your power.” Doflamingo told you, grinning wider to see you slowly look at him at last. Your expression was unreadable but the fact you finally looked at him felt like confirmation that you knew what he was talking about. “Born with it or is it a Devil Fruit?”

“I don’t have any power.” You answered, confusion evident in your tone. Doflamingo’s jaw clenched, you were a skilled liar. You had to be because for a second he almost believed you. “You wasted resources in healing me. I can’t tell you anything about something I don’t have.”

“I’m trying to be patient here. You can stop lying about your ability I saw it for myself.”

“Then you were imagining things. I don’t have any-” You were cut off when Doflamingo was across the room and lifting you into the air so you were eye level with him, his hand tightly around your throat. You could feel the strength in his grip, the power but you didn’t feel any pain. Was he just trying to intimidate you? To let you feel the ultimate control he had over himself when he could easily snap your neck or squeeze the life out of you. In a way you wanted it to be quick, being a prisoner and dragging out the torment was not ideal. With a heavy sigh you could only repeat. “I don’t have any power.”

Doflamingo felt the rage building in him once again. Even now you lied to his face so blatantly? He had put enough force into his hold to choke you, to at least make you squirm and hold some fear for your life and yet you didn’t react. You didn’t even twitch or try to struggle for breath as it still came to you so easily. It wasn’t just his powers or using a weapon, his own strength failed him around you. He was incapable of harming you.

Keeping you in his hold he turned and left the room, ignoring the frightened and scrambling servants who leapt out of his way and bowed lowly until he passed. Even his subordinates from the lowest rank to some of his elites didn’t even register in his mind not even when they called after him and followed close behind. At this point in time he was in search of only one other person who could give him some clear insight. Bursting into one of the drawing rooms he locked eyes on the former Princess of Dressrosa. “Violet. Your power now.” He growled as he dropped you onto the plush armchair. “I want to know the truth of their ability.”

You looked at the woman who stepped forward, remaining silent as she made a circle with her thumb and finger and peered at you intensely. If only you knew what power or ability Doflamingo was so adamant you possessed, at least then you’d have some idea of what was going on. One moment you were a Marine, just doing your job and now you sat in the home of a feared Warlord completely clueless. You jumped when Violet let out a shocked, strangled yell. Even Doflamingo tensed at the sound and he stared at her hard. “What do you see?”

“It’s not possible.” She whispered, not just looking at you but also Doflamingo with equal shock and disbelief. “Never thought I'd see such a thing.”

“Stop the riddles Violet, what’s their ability and how do we reverse it?” Your head snapped up to him and you frowned heavily. Reverse? What had to be reversed? Did something happen while you were unconscious? Could it have been something to do with what was in the warehouse before it exploded. Had remnants of some weird substance gotten on you? 

“It’s not an ability…it’s something bigger than that. It’s fate.” She whispered and Doflamingo scoffed in annoyance, his fingers flexing. He was getting agitated and if he didn’t get answers soon, a lot of people were going to get sliced. “I swear! It’s the only way I can explain what I see. The two of you are connected. It’s not at the mind or heart…it’s deeper. Your souls are bound to each other.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. No, this had to be some trick. Some sort of bizarre theatrics planned while you were unconscious. You still didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for, it was likely they kept you sedated in order to perfect these performances although for what end you couldn’t tell. You weren’t high ranking enough to be of any use to Doflamingo and he was a Warlord and a King of an entire island. He had enough power and influence as it was. Just what was going on and why of all things go with the ‘connected at the soul’ nonsense? The existence of soulmates had been recorded a few times throughout the world’s history but it was extremely rare to the point it was considered myth. Violet seemed exasperated at not being believed and looked to Doflamingo. “You’ve tried to kill them already?”

“A few times.” He answered tightly. First at the warehouse with his strings, then with your gun, then again in the doctor’s room. You didn’t even bruise in any of the attempts. Behind his bright glasses he looked down at you out of the corner of his eyes, noting you didn't seem surprised by his admission. Instead you looked confused about how you were still alive. You shook your head, still not convinced by any of this. No, this wasn't happening. You jolted in your seat as the sound of gunfire sounded loudly above you. 

Slowly you tilted your head up to meet the smoking barrel of the gun that had been aimed directly with the top of your head, the weapon held steadily and unwaveringly in Doflamingo’s grip. There was no missing with that proximity but you were alive, you hadn’t even been grazed by any of the bullets. Swallowing hard your body began to shake, not out of fear of the weapon but by the undeniable truth of the situation. You glanced down to see the bullets on the ground, the pathway they would have had to take to land beside the chair was impossible but there they were. You were protected from any harm by Doflamingo's hand by fate as Violet said. 

Both of you had the answer now and neither of you liked it. Those that were in the room that had been there to witness the truth of the matter for themselves were stunned and silent. To see the existence of a soulmate and the rumoured power it had for the pair would be something they would never forget. For some it was also an extra thread of proof that their master, Doflamingo was truly amazing to have a soulmate. With a growl, Doflamingo threw the gun across the room, letting it smash through the antique vase and send the roses it held scattering onto the floor. Then a sound filled the room, you began to laugh. You couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all and the weight of this new reality was too much. It was like some higher power had decided to play the cruelest joke imaginable on you and you finally got the punchline. 

“So what’s the plan?” You asked, looking at your ‘soulmate’ expectantly. “Do I go home and we pretend this isn’t happening? Or do you have another idea?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Doflamingo’s statement was firm and quicker than you anticipated. You could only nod slightly and glance once more at the bullets on the floor.   

“Thought as much.”

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

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[miloformula123fan]

Full fic??

I’ve read that Logan S. felt really lonely being the only American in F1. Like, he wasn’t completely accepted in the grid. Maybe he has an overprotective older sister who is a professional soccer player (like World Cup level good) who finally has time to attend his races. She dislikes most of the grid, except Alex and Oscar, for how they treated her brother. quick to defend Logan and even as far as annihilate them during the annual driver soccer match to prove a point. Im thinking G. Russel pairing due to Logan living in England. he wins her over by treating logan right, acknowledging he could have been welcoming, etc. Just a thought!

OKAY I HONESTLY LOVED THIS! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE (let me know if you want a part 2, because it is a bit of an interesting ending haha)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

edit: i wrote part 2 - it is here

part 3 is here

George Russell x reader, logan sargeant x sister!reader

---

Y/N loves her brother, she really does. Yeah, she’s tried to get to a few of his F2 rounds, but with her soccer taking her around the world, she has had very little time. She has the entire month off though, so what better to do than visit her brother at his home grand prix. Miami is always a party, so maybe she could let loose for a bit, try and relax, and find a guy.

This is quickly vetoed when she finds Logan cooped up in his drivers room. While most people would think that he was excited for the race, most people weren’t Logan’s sister. She could tell he was thinking too hard about something, and it wasn’t good.

“Hey Logie Bear! Whatcha thinking about?” She tried to appear happy, but she could see that Logan’s smile did not reach his eyes

“Nothing, just excited for the race, the car is quick, just aiming for some points, hoping for a safety car. The garage is over there, sorry I have to warm up.” Y/N looked up as Benny entered the room and Logan stood up. She could tell how closed up he was, how he didn’t want to talk at all

“Okay, we’ll talk after the race Logan! Good luck, you'll smash it!” Y/N walked out of the drivers room towards the garage seeing the chaos of it.

Y/N watched as Logan apologised over again and again to his engineer for not making up any more places. She stood there listening to his engineer reassure her younger brother. She eventually decided that she couldn’t listen to it anymore and decided to wait in his garage room.

When he walked in, Y/N could tell he wasn’t sure whether to throw stuff or cry. 

“Hey, hey, come here! It’s okay, it’s okay!” She opened her arms and sat down as Logan fell down into them and hugged her baby brother, as he started talking the words just rushed out

“I just wanted to prove that I deserve to be here, feel like I’m a part of the paddock.” Logan hugged his sister back tightly, hesitating slightly.

“What do you mean? Of course you’re a part of the paddock, you’ve got your seat, y’know?” Y/N was confused as to what her brother meant, from what she had seen, he was welcomed warmly by everyone.

“Yeah but, I’m never invited to the grid parties, no one really ever talks to me, except Alex and Oscar, and Oscar is getting into the rest of the grid through Lando, and Alex is only really talking to me because I mean, he’s my teammate we have to be friends, and I just want everyone to like me… so I thought maybe if I got some points and good overtakes, then people would like me..”

“Oh, Logie… It’ll be okay. If they don’t like you then I think they’re just idiots, but they won’t. They’ll warm up to you, I promise.”

---

George watched as Y/N sprinted up and down. Okay the F1 team was never going to win, particularly when multiple women who were playing in the world cup were playing on the opposition team, but ‘Sargeant’  (who also had the same name as the rookie driver this year, who was sitting in the stands) was dominating, she had more goals then all of the f1 team, so of course the celebrity team won 4-1. She’d almost immediately jumped into the stands once the referee blew the whistle and started talking to Logan, maybe the kid got married young and just didn’t want anyone to realise. 

Although she looked quite similar to Logan, so maybe his sister instead. Either way, she did not seem to like them, she called them all dickheads and shoved them over a few times. George’s knees were sore. But she was still pretty. So he approached Logan and the girl.

“Hello! I’m George and…’

“I’m pretty sure my brother knows your name, Georgie! Why don’t you say hello to him?”

“Y/N-”

“No. Say hi to Logan, George.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, almost forced.

“Hey Logan! Looking forward to the grand prix this weekend?”

“Uhhhh… yeah. ” He turned back to Y/N “I’ve got some stuff to do, so you can make your way back. See ya!”

As soon as Logan was out of listening range, Y/N pulled George in and started whispering, “Listen, I don’t know what problem you have my brother, but you need to get over it ASAP, understood?”

“I.. don’t have a problem with your brother.”

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

George stood there, mouth gaping as she stormed off to grab her bag and then sprinted after Logan. He could almost hear the f1 team laughing at his failed attempt at flirting, but all he could think about ‘was what she said true?’’

---

Y/N was going to cry.

She could see Logan in the family and friends box, hands over his mouth, eyes glassy.

That corner kick should’ve gone in, she thought, we had so many chances and we still fucked it all. Couldn’t even give Megs a proper farewell.

She walks slowly over to her younger brother and let his arms wrap around her

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Dragged you halfway ‘round the world when you should’ve been training only to lose the first game.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Go pack up, we can head home and spend some time in London relaxing. I’ve got next week off before I need to be back in the factory.”

—

Y/N was awoken by a knock on the front door. Hearing Logan snoring from his bedroom, she got up off the couch, rubbing her eyes and opened the door.

Of all the people she was expecting to see, George Russell would’ve been just about the last on her list “Uhh, hey?”

“Oh, morning! Is your brother up?”

Y/n paused for a moment to let George hear the snores coming from Logan’s bedroom. “Yeah, no, sorry. I can pass on a message?”

“Oh, No I was just going to offer if he was still up to go on a morning jog with him, but as he isn’t…”

“You been doing this often?”

“Almost every week we’ve been in town. I don’t think he understands what or why I’m doing this. But, he’s a good kid, opens up a bit when you talk to him. He likes you, respects you a lot for 2 siblings pursuing their sport across the globe.”

“I’ll make some breakfast and you can stay til Logan wakes up, okay? As a thanks for looking out for him. Hard for me to do from across the globe.” Y/N looked tense, with an almost forced smile. She looked awkward, before stepping back, holding the door open so George could come in.

---

“LOGAN SARGEANT!”

“Hello, dear sister, what do you want?”

���YOU GOT POINTS!”

“I think you must have watched a different grand prix, I got P12.”

“Hamilton and Leclerc got disqualified, something about wood, but you got points!”

“OH MY! AHHH! I had no idea, oh god!”

“YEAH! MY LITTLE BRO FINALLY GETTING F1 POINTS! WOOHOO! We must celebrate when we’re both in town!”

“AHH! Shit, wait I think people are coming in, give me a sec.

You’re on speaker dear sis, Alex, Oscar and George are here.”

“HELLO OSCAR! HI ALEX! HI GEORGE! DID SOMEONE BRING CHAMPAGNE???”

---

Y/N looks at the buzzing phone on her bedside table. Well clearly she had grabbed Logan’s phone before bed last night. She looked at the contact name

‘George - probably calling about something from the GDPA.’

She picked up.

“Before you start talking, I’m not Logan and I have not signed any NDAs related to his contract so, don’t talk to me.”

“Hi Y/N, do you know where Logan is?” George’s voice was way too cheery for however fucking early it is right now.

“Yeah he’s in his bedroom, he grabbed my phone and I grabbed his, why?” Y/N swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, still rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, can you come answer the door?”

“The door, why?” Y/N got up, and walked to her front door and opened the door to …nothing.

“George, are you pulling a prank on me? There’s nothing at the door.”

“You haven’t opened the door!”

“George… Logan and I are in Florida for Christmas. I’m guessing you’re in London.”

“Oh…yes. Bugger. I came to congratulate him on his contract renewal and so now I’ve got food and flowers and stuff and he’s not here!”

“If you go round the block to 20 XXX Close, there’s a single mom there, who will appreciate some Christmas cheer Georgie.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll send it over.”

“Why were you congratulating Logan, George? I didn’t think you cared. Only Alex and Oscar have reached out so far.”

“I..I remember what you said at the soccer match, about Logan feeling ostracised by all of us. So I’ve been trying to make him feel welcomed… not just because you said that, and I like you, but also because I kinda realised we’d all be failing him as a grid, so i thought if I started it, maybe others would catch on. It didn’t work, but I think he feels more included.”

“That’s very nice of you Georgie. I’ll pass on your congrats. Now it’s like 7am here, and I didn’t need to be awake today, so i will be heading back to bed. Night Georgie boy.”

[mochinomnoms]

Hi hi friend,

If it is not too much trouble I would like to make a request for your event? I think I would like Floyd with prompt 14- “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

They/them for Yuu is fine with me, I was thinking romantic? Where maybe it's obvious to everyone but Yuu how requited their feelings are.

I've really liked reading your writing and hope you continue to have fun doing it (♡°▽°♡)

floyd leech x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, mutual pining [wc} – 3,659 prompt 14: “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!” note - hahahahahhahahahahaha i did not mean to write so much but i went a little buckwild and i think floyd deserves to be allowed to be soft sometimes a floral inconvenience

Lavender roses - Introduced in 1900, lavender roses represent love at first sight. They’re often given to someone to convey that the giver was immediately smitten and fell in love. 

You’d decided to attend a karaoke event the Mostro Lounge was hosting to introduce the new spring menu. It was meant to be a nice, relaxing hangout with your friends from Heartslaybul as you listened to your friends attempt to show off their mediocre singing skills. 

Ace was in an especially good mood, happy to tease you as you waved happily at Floyd, who’d returned your affections. 

“Oi, oi, oiiiiiii, Prefect? When you gonna say something? Kinda tired of dealing with you puking petals every—OW!”

You snorted as Deuce smacked Ace upside the head, muttering about him being an asshole. 

“Leave them alone Ace, unless you want to be collared for harassing a member of the student body?” Riddle reprimanded, giving Ace a harsh glare as he turned to you instead. 

“You can ignore him, Prefect, you don’t have to say anything to that good-for-nothing merman! I’m sure you could do much better anyways.”

You chuckled, enjoying the soft banter between the group. It was particularly nice seeing Riddle interact more casually with his peers, even if you weren’t able to convince him to sing with you. 

“Are you sure you do want to go up with me?” You pouted leaning in close to the red-headed housewarden. “I’ll even let you pick the song—”

“Out of the question.”

You sighed, resting against the plush cushions of the booth while Ace and Deuce bicker about which song would be better for a duet. This was nice. 

It was nice, up until Floyd decided to take part in the festivities. Somehow he’d snuck behind you and Riddle, snatching up your friend with a gleeful cackle as he screeched. 

“FLOYD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”

“Nah, it’s fine Goldfishie, I need ya for just a sec!”

Floyd placed Riddle in a seat, front and center at the stage, as he climbed up. The cool blue spotlight suited Floyd’s features as he grinned. 

Picking up the mic from its stand, Floyd announced, “Alright! This song is for my favorite little fishie in the whole entire school, so you all better enjoy it!”

You expected him to start singing a silly pop song, one with high energy and beats. Or one that became a meme on Magicam last week, something about flamingos and turning pink. 

Instead, the upbeat, suave tunes of a familiar song started playing. A familiar love song. 

“Is…is this ABBA?”

“Who?” Cater asked, recording the scene with a stifling giggle as Riddle turned redder and redder in embarrassment (and most likely rage) as Floyd continued to serenade him. 

“This is ‘Lay Your Love’ by BABA, a classic from the 80s—”

“No it’s called ABBA back home—wait, WHY IS FLOYD SINGING A LOVE SONG TO RIDDLE!?”

Your screech startled the surrounding tables, drawing attention that you were too jealous to focus on. Floyd made eye contact with you, hearing your yelling. Continuing to sing—quite nicely you’d hate to admit—the eel mer winked and smirked, drawing an ire that you didn’t know you had. 

“What the hell? Floyd!” With the vindication of a scorned lover, you stomped to the stage and swiped the microphone from Floyd’s hands. 

“Floyd, what are you doing?” you spoke into the mic, glaring daggers at the tall beanpole of an eel turned man, who looked unbothered at your angry presence.

Floyd took the mic back and answered, “I’m trying to win my mate back—DON’T GO WASTING—”

“What mate?” You yanked the mic back while Floyd followed suit, though this time you kept both hands on. It became a tugging match as you both tried speaking into the mic before the other took it back. 

“Goldfishie.” You could hear Riddle scream at that. 

“Riddle’s not your mate! I’m your mate—” You snapped your mouth shut, the mic feedback and your last words echoing through the lounge, mocking you. 

Floyd had a large, smug grin on his face, his sharp teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the stage. You were now very aware of the packed lounge, and of the students spectating. 

The mic was slowly pulled back to Floyd, who gleefully asked “Oh~ Say that again?”

“Nuh-uh.” 

You shook your head furiously, trying to pull back in order to run off and curl into a hole from embarrassment. Floyd’s grip on the mic and your hands tightened, preventing your escape. 

“That’s fiiine,” Floyd pulled out a small device from his pocket, lightly tapping it on the mic. “I have it riiiight ‘ere.” 

Suddenly, a recording of your voice looped into the mic: 

“I’m your mate—I’m your mate—I’m your mate—”

He recorded it. 

“Oh my god…” You looked at Floyd in horror, who was still grinning ear to ear, like a cat that got the mouse. 

“HehehehehehahahAHAHA!” Floyd’s giggle turned into a cackle as he launched at you, mic and recorder abandoned on the floor. Between the ear-splitting squeal of the mic hitting the ground and a 6’2” man tackling you, there was little time for you to defend yourself as your lips clashed, teeth clattering against one another from the brute force.

His long arms wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, dipping you down dramatically as he broke your kiss to instead leave wet kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and every other piece of skin not covered by clothes. 

Ace and Cater’s cackles could be heard amongst the now growing laughter, whistles, and jeers of the crowd. You think you could even make out someone yelling at your two to get a room. 

“—off the stage! Get off the stage, both of you!” 

Ah, it was Azul. Who was stomping over the shoo you both off the stage, giving Floyd a particularly harsh whack on the head with his staff. 

“Ow, fuck that hurt!” Floyd whined, scooping you up with his left hand and cradling you to his chest. “Cool it Azul, don’t harsh my vibe—”

“I don’t care! Go make out in your room! This is a lounge not a brothel!”

“Fiiiiiine,” Floyd adjusted his grip to instead throw you over his shoulder, amused by how limp you’d gone in his grasp. “Come on Shrimpy! I got something fun in mind~”

His sentence and teasing tone made you flush, images of you and him in bed flashing through your mind. 

“W-wait, Floyd, what are we gonna do?”

“You’ll see, ahahahehe!” Floyd’s giggled echoed through the hallway as he quickened his pace. It was only a few minutes before you realized that you two had made it to the dormitory halls. 

Floyd kicked open his door, the hinges squeaking from the force. He marched over to his bed, grabbing at your waist to no doubt throw you on it before pausing. 

“Oh yeah.” Like a sudden realization hitting him, Floyd grabbed the corner of his bedsheets and shook them, clothing, books, and crumbs no doubtedly flying off. 

Once satisfied, Floyd hummed and once again grabbed your waist, this time committing to throwing you on the bed, which bounced under you. 

“AaaAaaAAAah—FLOYD!” You yelped, face turning redder as Floyd caged you to the bed. He looked at you with a hungry expression, licking his lips at the sight of you. 

“Wait-wait Floyd, gimme a sec—” you stammered, crawling backwards until your back hit the headboard. “—this is all very very sudden, I—wait!”

Floyd crawled after you, trapping you with his long arms, leaning down until his lips were lingering over yours. You shut your eyes in anticipation, waiting for his hands to grab at your clothes and tear them off. 

A soft, tender meeting of the lips. Floyd pressed his mouth against yours, swiping his tongue into your mouth, to which you returned with flustered confusion. The kiss was with such gentleness that you had to open your eyes to confirm that it was indeed Floyd kissing you. 

Olive and yellow eyes were closed, a blissful smile on his lips as he broke your kiss, instead pressing almost chaste pecks to your cheeks, down, your neck, and over your shirt where your heart was beating away. 

Floyd pressed his right ear to your chest, listening to the increasingly rapid pounding against your rib cage. His arms moved from trapping you against the bed to trapping you against his body, wrapping around your back and tightening while his lanky legs tangled between yours. 

You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands, once he had settled laying on you. Hesitantly, you reached to lace them through his hair, pushing the strands back to get a better view of his peaceful face. Admittedly, seeing Floyd in such a state, blissful and sweet, was beautiful. 

His smile grew slightly as you combed through his hair, nuzzling his nose into your chest. Into your heart really. 

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Floyd opened his yellow eye, gleaming at you in amusement. “I just wanted to cuddle, did ya have somethin’ else in mind? Haha!”

He moved to prop up his chin, smirking at you as he teased, “Didn’t think ya had sucha dirty mind, if you wanna ‘do it’, all you had to do was ask—”

You shoved his face back into your chest looking away in embarrassment, feeling his giggles vibrate through you. 

“Shut up, ugh!” You pouted, grumbling, “You set me up! Ugh! How’d you even know that would work?”

“I heard you.”

“Huh?”

“Talkin’ to Lil Goldfishie,” Floyd moved so that instead of laying on top of you, he was curled into your side with his head nestled at the crook of your neck. “When you got the flower sickness.” 

You looked at him with shock. That conversation with Riddle happened nearly three months ago in between classes. 

Specifically, it happened a few weeks after winter break, when you were catching up Riddle to your “adventure” in Scarabia, after which small lavender roses started blooming along your freckles, their thorns scratching your skin.

“And then, he launched us waaaaaay into the desert!” You animatedly waved your arms around as you recounted your fiasco over winter break. “We were trapped, but then Kalim used his unique magic to fill a dry riverbed with water and then!”

Riddle raised a brow at you as you began gigging with a soft blush. “Jade and Floyd had to turn into their merforms, so me and Kalim had to hold on to his back, but when I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he held my hand to steady me! ”

Your friend rolled his eyes as you started to silently squealed in your seat, sighing.

“Are you going to finish? I have better things to do than listen to you babble about Floyd of all people. Honestly,” Riddle huffed, “I don’t understand what you see in that riffraff!”

“He’s not a riffraff!” You quipped, frowning as you crossed your arms. “He’s actually really sweet if you give him the time of day, Floyd just likes being able to have fun with others you know!”

“Even then, his mood swings don’t terrify you? He gets rather violent sometimes.” Riddle took a sip of his tea as you shook your head. 

“No, I mean if you just go with the flow it’s fine, plus that just makes him more exciting to be around! Plus we’ve been getting closer ever since Azul’s overblot…”

You smiled softly as you looked down at your lap, fondness growing in your heart like blooms on a warm spring day. 

“He can actually be quite sweet, once you get to know him…you just have to give him a chance.”

The two of you remained quiet, the only coming from the distant chatter of other students in the more populated areas of the guest lounge.

“I’m safe to assume then that he is the reason you’ve started sprouting the roses?”

Your soft pink blush deepened as you nodded, picking at the small flower that began blooming on your cheek. 

“Yeah…”

“When will you confess, then?” You looked at Riddle in shock, who seemed confused at your distress. “What? It’s obvious that you have strong feelings for him, and even I notice how especially clingy he is around you.”

You shook your head, stuttering, “Well, yeah but that’s—”

“I’ve even heard him refer to you by name, he only does that with Jade and Azul you know?”

“You don’t understand Riddle.” You tried to interject, growing more flustered by the second. “I don’t think I could—”

Riddle continued, “As much as I disapprove, it does seem that you two genuinely bring out the best in each other, he does seem softer when you’re around—”

“Oh my—Riddle, stop—”

“—And you’ve gotten more outspoken, I remember how shy you were—”

“I’m begging you—”

“—Besides, according to the Queen of Heart’s rule number 478, any romantic feelings must be confessed approximately 12 days upon their discovery or the individual in question obligated to deny—”

“I said stop, Riddle!” You yelled at the top of your lungs before choking on rather large bouquet of lavender roses. Leaves and petals fluttered all around you as you continued to let out rough coughs, phlegm and saliva making a mess. 

Your yell startled the red-head so much that he simply started at you with a red face and thinned lips, too shocked to properly yell back at you for raising your voice indoors. 

Instead, he carefully placed his tea cup on the table between you two, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. You on the other hand, peaked around the dividers separating your nook from the rest of the lounge. 

Ace and Deuce looked over in concern as you continued to cough out more roses, walking over before you shook your head and gave them a thumbs up before shooing them away and turning back to Riddle. 

“...sorry Riddle.” You whispered, looking at him nervously. “I didn’t mean to yell, don’t be mad?”

“It’s…fine.” He replied with a strained voice, taking a final inhale before opening his eyes again and making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have yelled, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Riddle sighed, relaxing into the soft lounge chair. Though he would deny when asked, the chair that he helped you pick for the guest room was is favorite spot to sit in, as it surprising comfortable. 

“May I ask why you refused? It’s quite obvious to anyone that you care for him immensely, for some forsaken reason, and I would even say it’s quite mutual.”

You avoided eye contact as he resumes sipping from his tea, a lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes for his post meal tea. 

“Yeah…that’s what the other first-years say too. Even Jade’s been dropping hints on mer courtship gifts.”

“Then? What’s stopping you? 

A pregnant pause was in the air as you open and closed your mouth, attempting to figure out what it was that scared you. 

“What if…he gets bored?” 

Riddle furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in, barely able to hear you. 

“What if he what?” He sighed, a bit irritated. “Speak up Prefect, I know you can, you just did earlier.”

You groaned out, “What if he gets bored with me? I’m fun and interesting now, yeah!”

Your friend watched, and you began pacing around the room, holding his head in his hand as he watched and listened to you vent. 

“I’m just a silly little magicless human that got transported from another world! Big whoop! What happens when that novelty wears off? You've heard him, he only likes to do things that are fun and interesting to him, but I won’t always be fun and interesting, eventually he’ll get used to me and get bored.”

You turned to look at Riddle with a teary-eyed, but firm look. “He’s get bored and leave me. I can’t handle that! So I just won’t be with him. In fact, I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for him!”

Your voice began to crack as you stated your final sentence, snapping your mouth shut before you got begun crying. Riddle stood up and walked over to grasp your shoulders, looking at you with an understanding smile. 

“The sort of person that would abandon a lover simply because they’re bored never deserved one in the first place.” 

Riddle hummed in agreement as you sqeaked out a ‘really?’, giving you a soft pat on your shoulder. 

“Of course, I can’t say I don’t understand your hesitance, Floyd is…Floyd, after all. However, he is not my friend, you are. If you choose to forfeit your right to confess, then so be it.”

You smiled as he dragged you back to your seats, giggling as he continued, “I personally would say it’s no lost on your part, he’s not exactly the most prime candidate for your life partner should you be stuck here in Twisted Wonderland, may I suggest one of the many more suitable providers?”

“Pfft-like who? You?” you cackled as Riddle looked at you in mild horror. 

“Oh dear, of course not! I admire you as a friend, but I have much stricter standards for a partner.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Perhaps Ace or Deuce, you are rather close to them—”

“Ewwwww, pass. They’re like annoying brothers!” 

Riddle snorted before covering it up with a cough. “True. Trey?”

“If you’re just going to suggest your dorm members, maybe we should switch the conversation to something else.”

“Well I think my dorm produces only the best and most gentlemanly mages of all of NRC, so excuse me if I’m simply trying to give you the best options!” 

You and Riddle shared some laughter, a flash of teal catching the corner of your eye. But you saw nothing, so instead you focused back on Riddle as he began recounting his own winter break activities.

You remained quiet as you processed your thoughts, finding the lilac ceiling to be particularly interesting. 

Floyd also stayed quiet, still curled into your side as he breathed in your scent. You’re sure that with all of the flowers you’d started coughing up in the last few minutes, you smelled strongly of the lavender roses. 

“You know…I was gettin’ real mad when you wouldn’t confess to me.” Floyd whined, propping his head up with his hand to look at you and your pink face. 

“I thought it would be nice to get a cute confession out of my little shrimp,” He pinched your nose and forced you to look at him. “It be real fun! Like those cringy romcoms landfolk like so much!”

You replied, nasally due to your pinched nose, “Wait, is that why Jade was telling me about mer courting methods?”

“Haha! Yeah, I was hopin’ that you’d bring me a pretty seashell or somethin’ cute so Icould make fun of ya for later.”

You let out an indigent huff, smacking Floyd’s hand away as he laughed. 

“Really? So what made you change your mind?”

“Hearing ya talk to Goldfishie. It pissed me off that you’d think I’d toss you out like humans at sea with their trash.”

Floyd’s tone changed, looking  visibly annoyed as he continued. 

“Mers mate for life, and I wouldn’t choose someone I’d get bored with.” He sat up as his mood continued to sour. “It pissed me off, and it hurt, that my Little Shrimpy would think about me like that.”

“Oh, Floyd,” you sat up with him, guilt seeping in your bones as you looked at his angry face. Though, with the small tears forming in his eyes, Floyd looked more frustrated than anything. 

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—it didn’t occur to me that you felt the same—”

“Well I do, and it’s not fair to me that you wouldn’t even give me a chance.” The way Floyd said that so matter of factly made you snap your mouth shut again, looking down at your lap instead. 

“I’m…sorry, Floyd. I wish I could make it up to you—”

Floyd interrupted, moody demeanor brightening suddenly. “No worries, I got just the solution!”

Crawling over back to you so that your back met the headboard again, Floyd grinned maliciously at your curled form. 

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say it. Those three little words.” Floyd held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “The ones that will make all those little flower go right away, the ones you need to say to me.”

You stiffened, leaning away from Floyd as he leaned in. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Say it, Y/N.” The use of your name startled your attention back to his face. He looked unusually serious, peering his heterochromic eyes into your own. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve mistaken him for his twin. 

You whispered, prolonging the inevitable, “What happened to Shrimpy?”

“Shrimpy was Shrimpy, but now your Y/N. And Y/N is Y/N…”

The two of you shared a smile as the distance between you two continued to close. You couldn’t remember what was so pressing earlier, why you were so anxious when the yellow eye of the man in front of you produced nothing but adoration from your heart. 

“Please…” From the uncharacteristic soft murmur to the eyes darting down to your lips and back to your eyes, Floyd drew you back in with a hypnotic ease that only the most alluring of mythical creatures could even hope to imitate. 

The two of you leaned in as you placed a hand on his chest, his own left hand coming to cradle your own. 

You craned your head back to hover your lips under his, uttering the words you swore to never let leave your mouth. 

“I-I…love you, Floyd Leech.”

A single lavender rose grew between your palms, as two longing hearts met as one.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello hope you're well 👍 I've read all you're Bi-han fics and I'm obsessed with how well you write him 💗 Can I request a continuation of the one where he's S/O got severely injured? Maybe after they healed they were left with lots of scars and every time Bi-han see them (whether in bed or when S/O clothes don't hide them ) he feels immense amounts of regret. Perhaps to close off this theme they could both talk about the situation with S/O reassuring Bi-han that it happened once and never again . Sorry if this is too long or if it's too angsty feel free to dismiss it if you're uncomfortable with the prompt 👍

I’m doing well and thank you for reading my stuff for I was certain that like half of it were shoddy due to character inaccuracies 😂 but at least I’m doing something right!

Part 1

‘I can feel you staring Bi-Han.’ You stated and you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold it against him. After finally waking up from your comatose, the first thing you saw as the bandages were taken off was scars of every kind imaginable; Some were crisscrossed with others whilst others took up an entire limb. There was no denying that you could have died in the medbay that very same day you were brought in but no, you were extremely lucky to even have been able to wake up from all that.

You were blessed with another chance to live but none of that mattered to you, what did however was seeing Bi-Han at your bedside looking worse for wear. His silken raven black hair was disheveled and unkept compared to it’s usual style, his dark eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark bags underneath them only proved to further push this narrative of a man who hadn’t had a descent nights sleep in a long while. He looked so unlike the Bi-Han you knew that when you reached out to stroke back a couple of loose strands from his forehead, he was quick to firmly grab ahold of your wrist before looking at you, you could clearly see the hurt and the brokenness within them.

‘I could’ve been there,’ Bi-Han said his eyes would linger on the long, jagged scar that ran diagonally across your back, ‘no, had I known what I know now, I would’ve stopped you from going on that mission.’ The guilt was still eating him up from the inside it seemed and it absolutely broke your heart that he felt fully responsible, and yet in Bi-Han’s mind, he was and should be held responsible for your predicament. It didn’t make things better that whenever he saw the scars that were now a permanent part of your body, he was reminded that he failed you on all accounts and he swore to himself that he’d never let it happen again.

Even if that meant having to withhold you from participating in future missions for the foreseeable future, Bi-Han will do it. He just couldn’t go through all that. He had already emotionally destroyed himself from almost losing you, loosing valuable sleep in exchange for watching over you, and so on and so forth that he doesn’t think that he could do it again. For every time he closes his eyes, all he saw was you lying in the medbay almost lifeless, it continued to haunt him well after you were dismissed by the medics, leaving him to determine whether or not you were fit to head back out there.

You were quick to slip on your night shirt before joining Bi-Han in bed and reaching across to hold his hands without your own, brushing your thumb across his knuckles reassuringly. ‘Don’t do this to yourself Bi-Han.’ You started. ‘You didn’t know and you shouldn’t hold it over yourself either, it’s not healthy and you’ll end up running yourself into the ground with guilt that isn’t yours to begin with.’ You gripped Bi-Han’s hand tighter as you cradled it to your chest, pressing gentle kisses into his skin, in hopes of assuring him that you were with him and not some figment of his imagination. ‘I don’t to have the heart to watch you tear yourself apart. I was hurt, yes, but here I am. You can feel my hand holding yours, you can feel my body warmth and you can see that I am breathing.’

You stopped your speech halfway to look Bi-Han deep in the eye and asked; ‘Isn’t that all the proof you need to know that I am alive? that I am flesh, blood and bone and nothing else?’ But when he said nothing and avert his dark and tired gaze from your own, you huffed and hauled yourself into his lap, grabbing ahold of his face between you hands, whilst his hands immediately went straight to your waist as though it were routine for them. ‘Look at me.’ You say softly but revived nothing, not even a glance and it hurt. ‘Bi-Han I want you to look at me!’ You then exclaimed, causing him to look at you and not through you like he has been during these past couple of days as though you were a ghost.

‘This won’t happen ever again.’ You told him firmly, pressing your head against his, feeling him sigh as he relaxed within your touch; feeling confident in the fact that you weren’t going to up and disappear on him like his mind had made him believe. ‘How can you be so certain that this won’t be echoed later on.’ Bi-Han finally said. You smiled softly. ‘I can’t but you’ll just have to put your trust in me that it won’t.’ You knew that wasn’t the answer Bi-Han was looking for, but with the way he was holding you against him as though trying to meld you against him. ‘I’ll hold you to your word, but until then you’re under my supervision until further notice.’ He said against your lips that widened into a smile as you cuddled yourself further into his chest as sleep began to invade.

‘You say that like that’s a bad thing.’ You cheeked and you were certain that you heard him let out a chuckle. He was healing, healing slowly yes, but that was enough of a start for you.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

Fem!Reader Words: 1742

AN: Is it a sequel to the last fic or a request from @isekyaaa? It's both! I hope I've done the prompt justice for you

Y/N’s classroom was silent as she shuffled papers around trying to clean up what was now a shared classroom. To say it was her classroom wasn’t a good way to describe the room. It was a room that she had been thrown into over a month ago on the other side of the campus. The classroom was cramped, lights would flicker in and out, and the heat would never kick in. It felt as if the university just wanted her to quit. Had her rightful complaints of poor treatment got her into this? Or maybe it was the fact she wasn't afraid to critique their golden boy? 

At least she had already completed her final class of the day and with no meetings, all that was left to do was to go home. Hopefully, the next teacher here will be satisfied with her cleaning. With the knock on the door, she assumed that was who had shown up.

“I’ll be just a minute. I’m almost done in here.” Y/N placed the last of the papers within her bag, eyes not even making contact with the door frame. “I just have to clean the whiteboard.”

There was a man’s sigh followed by footsteps and a binder landing in front of her on the desk where she sat. It was a plain purple that felt way too familiar. Looking up at its owner she shouldn’t have been surprised. “What do you want Ratio?” Her question came off in a mix of annoyance, tiredness, and ready for a fight.

“Open it.”

“Your hands work.”

“Will you just open the binder?” A question that sounded more like a demand

She rolled her eyes before doing what she had been asked. There was no sense in fighting every little thing. Looking at the paper on top, it was just a simple list of grades over time. There were two sections highlighted about a month apart from each other with a noticeable improvement. It was small but clear to see. “It's a start at least. Is this all you have to show me?”

He flipped to the next page. It was the start of a thesis for what he must have been currently working on. The page was covered in red ink of his handwriting over the text he had printed out. It had been a bit odd to see knowing how much he had preferred to work in digital. He had on plenty of occasions spoken a snide comment to her about how he did not need to leave to grab a notebook and that he had access to everything he needed at all times. There were too many times when he had given her a side eye even on just running out of ink.

“You do know I’m in an entirely different field of study than anything you’ve done? I’m not sure if you really want me to read this over. It may be best to find someone else.” She closed the binder, rejecting his request before getting up to clean the whiteboard behind her. “I teach art history. I’m doing a fashion history course at the moment!” She emphasized as began to wipe down the whiteboard, clearing it of a few things that had been required for her students to take note of. 

“You are able to not hold back on giving critiques which is a skill in itself.” One that others at the university he found were lacking. “I do not require someone who has a similar knowledge as me. It’s harder to understand where my writing doesn’t make sense when someone has an easier time following along with the subject matter.”

Y/N dropped the cloth in her hands, turning around. “That is not the compliment you think it is!”

“And it wasn't an insult either!” He pinched his nose in an attempt to remain calm. “It's a rough draft. There are still things I would like to add but I want you to read through it first.”

She leaned against the clean side of the whiteboard that was behind her. “It would be better to find someone else to read through it. What part of that do you not understand?”

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” He had said it louder than he had meant to, emotions taking over for a brief moment. Perhaps the same emotions that had derailed his train of logic led him to even ask her for this favor.

“The part where you are the one who is saying it. I’m bound to say something that will start a debate and derail your work. Or better yet I help you only end up teaching in a closet next.”

“You act as if I am the one who put you in here.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. You even yelled at me over this a month ago.”

“I wasn't yelling.” 

He had crossed his arms giving her a side eye.

“You are misremembering. I was annoyed yes but yelling no.” 

“If you can remember that you can remember your own actions then. You waltzed in and blamed me for the actions of people higher up than me.”

“I,” she sighed remembering back on it more, “I did do that didn’t I? To be fair, your lack of teaching skills left me in a room where I feel like I'm going to turn into an ice cube. How are you even standing in here without shivering?” Y/N asked as she looked over the more revealing aspects of his attire. 

He shook his head at the lack of an apology. “They do keep most of the servers within this building. That's still no excuse for why this room is so cold.”

“Every time I ask about it I'm told either the heat is out or that it's on low. I was told it was going to be fixed but I’m pretty sure that was a lie now. Most of my students started bringing blankets to class with them. They are just recording the lecture instead of taking notes and I can tell they aren’t going back to listen to it cause the grades are just dropping now.” Y/N complained with defeat just washing over her. 

“Have you made it known that these changes are affecting your class?” He asked the obvious as if she couldn’t think of it herself.

“They will make changes off of things you say because the complaints come from you. Your name carries weight. No matter how correct I am, because I even dare to point out a flaw of yours I am to be ignored and tossed aside so as to not ruin what your name brings to this place.” Her eyes drifted to the floor. “I’m clearly being punished. If I speak about what is going on anymore who knows what I may lose next? The arts remain to be disrespected even when used to teach about the history of different worlds. I must face the fact that I am not wanted.” It hurt a bit to admit it allowed. This had been a dream job of hers and it felt horrible to see it ripped from her over a lack of general respect from those above her.

“I want you.” He repeated once more with softness and desperation leaking into his voice. “As annoying as your critiques can be, listening to them has forced me to take a look at myself and bring improvement. Trying to improve myself without the input of another only works for so long. I’ve seemed to have forgotten that.” Perhaps he had grown too similar to some of those who worked here in that aspect. The distance between them was breaking as he moved closer into her space. 

Her laughter filled the small space between the two of them. One that was genuine, not filled with their usual sarcasm and jabs back and forth. “Are you hiding a literature degree there? I've never heard anyone beg for a critique like this before.” She teased.

“It’s not begging. I am just asking what I know you are capable of. You would have given your thoughts without me asking, wouldn’t it be better to invite those thoughts instead?” 

“I suppose it would but I'm not quite sure about it still. My critiques of you haven't ended well for me. What's to say this time would be different?”

“I believe I have met your requirements to discuss what is considered life-changing once more.” The grades rising just by points didn’t meet what she had asked of him and yet it was enough to take his advances seriously. 

“I wasn’t sure you would follow through on what I asked of you. Have you found a definition or have you found a different example?” She looked up at him, it took everything to not lose herself in how he was staring at her. His eyes tethered to her lips watching every movement. Part of her wished he would go through with the example she had put a stop to last time.

“It would seem that day in the library was example enough for me. The memory won’t quiet in my mind.”

“Perchance have you put that brain of yours to work figuring out what would quiet it?”

“It is less a matter for my brain to solve.”

“But you have found a solution?” Her eyes kept darting between his normally cold eyes and his lips which appeared so inviting. Maybe if she had paid more attention last time she would have noticed that before.

“I have.”

“I must ask, do you want me for a critique or do you want me?”

“If it’s both?”

“Then I would implore you to show me what you considered life-changing that day. It may persuade me to say yes.”

It was only a matter of mere seconds before Y/N found herself kissing the man she had been blaming for some of her issues with this university. However, she mostly laid the blame for those issues starting with his teaching style, but it was hard to focus on his flaws when he was being so loving at the moment.

Was it loving or more an act of desperation? Something that she would decide later as for now it was quite enjoyable being pinned against a whiteboard making out with a man she could have sworn was just a thorn in her side.

[itsabouttimex2]

Inky Clutches

“You were good today, weren’t you?”

The world suddenly snaps back to color, leaving you dazed and unsteady- just seconds ago you had been on the verge of the sleep, and now-

“Someone’s a tired little bug, aren’t they?” The curse’s hand prods and pokes at your cheek to trail a cold string of ink across it, prompting you to squeak and squirm away to escape the freezing touch.

“Stop stop stop!” You squeal in mild distress, writhing under your covers and scooting your back to the wooden bedrest. “Baba, stop!”

“My poor little Squiggle,” it lowly chuckles, pulling away the bedsheets. “Always so sleepy, aren’t you?” There’s always a strange note of warmth under their condescending tone, striking in its sincerity.

“I… I hadn’t meant to fall asleep,” you admit, looking away with a frown. “But you had been gone for so long…”

“Ahahahaha! What a cute pouty face! C’mon, drop that pout… be a good little ward and smile already,” it laughs, one hand pressing harshly down on your head, mussing your hair.

The curse is hardly apologetic for their lateness. But then, the Ink Curse never apologizes. They're cruel and wicked, only caring for how much misery they can spread to anyone caught inside this cursed scroll-

Except for you, that is.

It’s almost strange how doting the abomination can be, almost affectionate- though it’s unclear how much they actually care for you, given the frequent switching between treating you like their own child and treating you like a clingy little pet.

"I was busy,” it sighs, shifting to stand a good few feet taller than you. “You’re a big kid now, Y/N. You can look after yourself, can’t you?" The blobbish thing lightly scolds, as it reaches out to pat your head in a half-assed attempt to be comforting.

“But… if you want to act like a little baby, fine.”

You’re far too used to their antics by now. The constant taunting and belittling that comes naturally with the Ink Curse, the nicknames they call you- ‘Squiggle’ and ‘Inkblot’ are two of their gentler ones- it’s nothing new. But shows of physical affection are just rare enough to get you excited, prompting you to spring off the bed and reach out to be held.

The ink homunculus scoops you up with a huff, holding you close to their chest.

“…you’ve grown, Squiggle.”

It’s a quiet and sudden confession, as the curse buries their face against your shoulder with a sigh. For a change, you can’t hear the usual barely-restrained mockery. The teasing. The taunting.

The sort of thing it relishes in delivering to all the lost souls trapped in the confines of the cursed scroll.

But for you? There’s only a quiet grumble as cold arms wrap around you with an odd kind of gentleness in their grip.

“When did you get so tall?” They murmur against your hair, their voice a low grumble, but lacking all of the usual mockery.

But even in a moment as soft as this, there’s still a hint of condescension in their voice. The curse lets out another sigh, softer this time, and it pulls away to themselves, tilting your head from side to side as it studies you.

For an artificial being made entirely of ink and spite, the look in their eyes is downright warm.

“You were so small when we first met…”

Back when you first entered the scroll, you had been barely a toddler, not even old enough to speak in anything more than gurgles. Too young to have been counted as a “sinner”, the Ink Curse had instead taken you under it’s wing as a potential “heir” to one day assist it in punishing all those caught in the hellish recesses of this twisted artifact.

And in the years that had come and pass, you had grown in more ways than one. You’d grown older. Stronger. More self-reliant. You’d learned to read and write. Learned to control yourself, and in many ways, learned to control the ink hellscape around you.

…and the thought of you growing leads the Ink Curse to wonder if one day you’ll grow to long for a world you had been cast away from.

“Soon you'll be all grown up and leaving me behind, hm?"A clawed finger pokes your cheek, squishing the softness of your skin as it tips up your chin. “You'll forget all about old Inky, won't you? Find yourself a new Baba?"

“…you ask me this too much, Baba. You know that I can’t leave.”

“And yet, one day you will.” The curse bluntly retorts, expression turning cold in a flash.“One day you’ll grow up big and strong, and you’ll find your way back to the real world… and forget all about me.”

They play this “game” frequently- making you comfort them by insinuating that they have some deep-seated fear of you magically finding a way to escape this divine scroll of punishment.

“You’ll leave, and all those memories, all the things we shared together…”

As had come to be a norm, they were playing up the part of the overly-attached parent, and they were doing it well, voice growing just shaky enough to sound vulnerable, even managing to drop their smug smile for a minute.

“…you’ll forget all about them, and then all about me.”

“I- I would never! Baba, how could you say that I would-“

The curse is immediately flooded with a strange sense of satisfaction at your sudden and utterly panicked reaction, forcing down a gleeful grin.

“How could I say it?” They echo, suddenly growing colder in tone and slower in cadence. “Because you will. That’s how little children are- they grow up, and they forget all the things they once loved so dearly.”

“And I will be one of those things.”

The Ink Curse’s voice drops to a murmur as it continues, their cyan gaze locked on you. And even though you know by now that they’re just playing this cruel “game” once again, their words manage to send a chill down your spine.

“And you’ll forget my voice. Forget my face. Forget my love. You’ll forget everything about me. And then I’ll be nothing more than a little shadowy blob in the darkest corners of your mind.

As usual, tears bead up in your eyes at these harsh accusations, feeling shamed that your guardian would still believe you to have so little faith in them.

The abomination stares down at you as you begin to cry, a wicked sense of pleasure shooting through their pitch veins at the sight of your tears.

As cruel as it seems, the Ink Curse loves nothing more than putting your loyalty to the test- they love finding ways to make you reassure them time and time again that you won’t ever abandon them. And though they know that you’ll never do such a thing, they love to hear you say it over and over.

After all, it’s “just a game”. A little “make sure you still love me” test. Maybe you’re too empathetic. Too sensitive. Too naive.

You’re something that it counts as “frail”, though it wouldn’t be able to put a name to the trait.

And the curse uses that “weakness” frequently. Playing up how they “know” you will easily forget them, how you’re going to grow up and leave them in the dust, how you’ll eventually be consumed with the desire to escape from the hellish scroll and the “affectionate” curse within.

And you’ve never once failed to fall for it. Just as they had hoped. Each and every time, their plan has worked flawlessly.

This time, of course, is no different. You’re blinking back tears, on the verge of breaking down entirely, and the curse revels in every moment of it- the rush of power and joy that comes with the knowledge that you actually care about them.

That someone cares about them.

“Oh, my poor Squiggle… do you want me to take you to the swings again?”

The words are enough to make you jerk slightly, head lifting to stare at the curse with wet and wide eyes. It’s almost funny, how even in a moment as vulnerable as this, you’re still so eager and quick to respond to their hints of affection.

You had basically grown up in that little corner of the scroll, a little slice of history containing a quiet park, set on a cozy afternoon. Being “good” earned you visits there, a break from the monotony of traveling through the scroll and waiting for your guardian to finish punishing “sinners” as it found them before moving to the next section.

To be offered that trip again…

“Do you want a little break from all the heavy thinking?” It continues, shifting to hold you a little tighter. “A little break from being such a big, tough kid?”

(Kid. Are you a kid? You were at a stage between infant and toddler when you came, and it had been… how many years since then? How old were you?)

The curse watches carefully as you consider the offer. The promise of being taken outside for something as childish as a little swing session. It's a bribe like usual- a promise of something sweet in exchange for a little more manipulation of your emotions.

But they know how much you love the little park memory they set aside for you in the center of their little hell. And they know how effective it is at soothing your mood.

“…we can really… we’ll actually go back to that memory? Like we used to?”

The curse grins again, all traces of fake vulnerability gone from their expression. The tone of their voice is once again condescending, smug, and laced with a hint of mockery.

“Of course we can, Y/N. We’ll take a little trip to our old grounds, and I’ll try to forget all that cruel nonsense you were spouting.”

With a rictus grin, the ink demon offers you their pitch hand.

And, as always, you accept it.

[dotster001]

Hi i don't know, if your requests are still open, if not you can ignore it or do it whenever you want.

Just readed your prompt, when reader suddenly passes out with Vil, Jamil, Floyd and Rook. I was wondering, if you could write something similar for Malleus, Lilia and maybe the teachers Trein and Crewel?

(I'm happy you enjoyed those! And I hope you like these too!)

Part One Part Three

CW:Burnout (obviously), mental breakdown/trauma in Trein's part, spoilers for Vargas training camp in Trein's part, injury in Crewel's part

A/N: I've said this in my pin post, but I age up characters to actual college age, because I am in college, and didn't realize until a few months in the characters were not. Everyone here is. 18+ If it makes you feel more comfortable, imagine this as a grad school situation.

He's been pouting a lot lately. Which for a normal person wouldn't be a problem, but Mal's pouting usually meant that the weather was bad as well. He was pouty, because whenever you had time in your incredibly busy schedule to see him, you still had to be working on your homework. With everything Crowley had you do for the school, you had to share your "dragon time" with your "homework time". But your boyfriend looked very cute pouty, so part of you wasn't too upset about it.

Until the day you were so busy with something that you hadn't eaten or slept in over 24 hours and just…collapsed during dragon/homework time.

Malleus immediately panics. He assumes you have had a heart attack and died (Mal…college students are unlikely to have heart attacks)  Once he finds a pulse, and sees your breathing, he scoops you up and teleports to Lilia faster than he has ever teleported.

He's sobbing as he answers Lilia's questions, not entirely certain that this wasn't something he did. Lilia easily is able to figure out what has happened, and goes to make you some soup for when you wake up. Malleus is too relieved to think about the fact that while Lilia's soup will have loads of protein, it might send you into shock. In the meantime, he puts a cool cloth on your forehead, and caresses your cheek.

After you wake up and barely survive the soup Malleus spoon feeds you he tucks you into his massive comfy bed (you can't tell me he doesn't have the fluffiest comforters) and then…vanishes.

From here on out, everytime you get a task from Crowley, it's already finished by the time you get around to it. It's weird, but it means you have time to keep homework separate from "dragon time". Which makes a certain fae very happy.

Lilia has spent years learning how to care for humans, especially since most of them *cough* Silver *cough cough* Y/N are not good at caring for themselves.  While his recipes are terrible, he is right in some ways about making sure to get all your nutrients. While it can feel a little patronizing sometimes, he is right that you need sleep. While he is a little unorthodox in how he has fun, he's right that you need to have leisure time and do things you enjoy.

What you don't know is that behind the scenes Lilia has already been having regular arguments with a certain Crow about your workload. When two fae fight, it's never good, but you don't have to worry about what's going on.

Azul and the tweels get called back home out of nowhere, and now you're in charge of all the paperwork that he is usually in charge of handling, both for the lounge and for the other Housewarden's. Lilia sees less and less of his sweet human, and he's suspicious part of it is because you are avoiding him, knowing full well he would make you take a break.

He has to admit, your avoiding skills are actually pretty good. So he's not actually there when you collapse. And he's furious. Especially when he finds out that Crowley also decided to add his own paperwork to your ever growing pile. He only knows you collapsed when he hears some randos gossiping about how "the prefect collapsed running laps today, and the idiot duo had to walk them to the infirmary." He's immediately flying to the infirmary, powered by his pure rage.

He knows it's not your fault, especially since you have nothing to your name in this world, so it's easy to manipulate you into this position. So he does his best not to take his anger out on you as he watches you sip apple juice that the nurse gave you, while you do your best to keep your eyes open. Once he is certain that the nurse has things under control, he kisses your forehead, and asks you if you want him to bring you anything.

While he's out getting you a treat, he makes a stop at a certain Crow's office. From here on out you don't see a lot of him. You are a little worried that Lilia may have killed him, but everytime you ask him, he giggles and messes up your hair, before telling you how silly that is.

He's harder on you than he is on most of his students, partially so that no one can claim favoritism, partially because you are just so far behind in history (having it not be your history) that he has to give you extra work and lessons to catch you up. But as a trade off, he tries to be a step ahead of Crowley whenever he can. There's little that happens in the school that he's unaware of, so he's usually able to protect you from his foolish boss.

Until you get sent to the training camp with the sports clubs to assist Vargas. He's furious about this last minute decision, that Crowley conveniently forgot to tell him about, and he's even more angry when he later finds out that you were "kidnapped" and then immediately had to fight a creature in the mines. 

Naturally, your mental health is not so great after the trip. He's starting to see it on your face when you both hang out, and even if he didn't, your work for his class is deteriorating, if you even turn it in at all. 

Then you break down one day when he asks you about it. He can't understand a word you're saying as you sob and yell and shake. But he's pretty sure he has the idea. You've been pushed too far. He sends Lucius to fetch a nurse or counselor , or heck he's sure even Sam would have something to help you relax enough to just breathe. In the meantime, he wraps his arms around you and tries to walk you through breathing exercises, while whispering some praises to you that you can't comprehend in this state, but appreciate all the same.

After someone gives you a potion that helps you relax a little, he leaves you to rest on his office couch with Lucius in charge, and he holds a meeting with the rest of that staff about what's not appropriate to put people through. (Essentially it's Crewel and Trein yelling at Vargas and Crowley about trauma and what their job is supposed to be) 

This never happens again. You continue to have extra work from Trein, but he always ensures he makes time to help you, or give you a soothing tea if he thinks you're starting to drop back into the bad mental state. If you do, he holds you close, and says nothing, while allowing you to spill whatever is plaguing you. 

Prior to him dating you, you had denied his request many times to financially sponsor you. Now that you were together, it was harder to come up with an excuse for him not to. So he'd purchased Ramshackle and renovated it. He'd taken up the expenses for your schooling and food (after much argument  he'd also taken up Grim's) and after several discussions about the future of your relationship, he'd begun helping you through the process of becoming a citizen in a world that had no proof of your existence (a pain and a half, but there was nothing he wouldn't do for his beloved pup). In doing all this, he'd made it very clear to the Headmage that he had no hold over you, and therefore couldn't coerce you into anything.

Divus knew he was a fool for leaving you alone for a week. He had assumed that Crowley had nothing on you anymore, and that he could go help a smaller fashion designer that showed a lot of promise get their career off the ground. At first he was only going to be gone for a week, but it quickly turned into two, then three. He should have recognized the tension in your voice when you'd asked him over the phone when he thought he'd be back. 

When he finally returned, he thought he'd surprise you by showing up where he knew you'd be hanging out with your friends. He'd bought a ring for you that he was particularly pleased with, and he wanted you to have it as soon as possible. His plan was dashed as he watched you collapse into Howl, who immediately started to panic.

With a clear voice Divus took over the scene, picking you up and carrying you to his office where he had all manner of potions. As he pressed one to your lips, he noticed a cast on your arm. He'd ask about it later. 

When you woke up, you wrapped your arms around him, and whispered how much you missed him. He asked what happened, and you tell him how you broke your arm in yet another overblot incudent, and had been working like crazy for Crowley to pay off the medical expenses. 

You've never been scared of your lover. But his eyes were practically glowing with rage, and now you were starting to wonder if you should be scared. Divus does not accept cruelty to animals or humans. And, he keeps his receipts. It's not long before there's a pretty hefty case and Dire is removed as headmage for coercion and endangerment. After that, there aren't any more overblot incidents and the students seem more mentally healthy. How about that?

He decides to wait to give you the ring until you're fully recovered after everything. But he's certain when he asks you the question that comes with it, you'll have an answer he likes. Especially when you nuzzle into him so sweetly while you nap in his office.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll

[hms-no-fun]

Hi! I just read your post about your opinion on "AI" and I really liked it. If it's no bother, what's your opinion on people who use it for studying? Like writing essays, solving problems and stuff like that?

I haven't been a fan of AI from the beginning and I've heard that you shouldn't ask it for anything because then you help it develop. But I don't know how to explain that to friends and classmates or even if it's true anymore. Because I've seen some of the prompts it can come up with and they're not bad and I've heard people say that the summaries AI makes are really good and I just... I dunno. I'm at a loss

Sorry if this is a lot or something you simply don't want to reply to. You made really good points when talking about AI and I really liked it and this has been weighing on me for a while :)

on a base level, i don't really have a strongly articulated opinion on the subject because i don't use AI, and i'm 35 so i'm not in school anymore and i don't have a ton of college-aged friends either. i have little exposure to the people who use AI in this way nor to the people who have to deal with AI being used in this way, so my perspective here is totally hypothetical and unscientific.

what i was getting at in my original AI post was a general macroeconomic point about how all of the supposed efficiency gains of AI are an extension of the tech CEO's dislike of paying and/or giving credit to anyone they deem less skilled or intelligent than them. that it's conspicuous how AI conveniently falls into place after many decades of devaluing and deskilling creative/artistic labor industries. historically, for a lot of artists the most frequently available & highest paying gigs were in advertising. i can't speak to the specifics when it comes to visual art or written copy, but i *can* say that when i worked in the oklahoma film industry, the most coveted jobs were always the commercials. great pay for relatively less work, with none of the complications that often arise working on amateur productions. not to mention they were union gigs, a rare enough thing in a right to work state, so anyone trying to make a career out of film work wanting to bank their union hours to qualify for IATSE membership always had their ears to the ground for an opening. which didn't come often because, as you might expect, anyone who *got* one of those jobs aimed to keep it as long as possible. who could blame em, either? one person i met who managed to get consistent ad work said they could afford to work all of two or three months a year, so they could spend the rest of their time doing low-budget productions and (occasionally) student films.

there was a time when this was the standard for the film industry, even in LA; you expected to work 3 to 5 shows a year (exact number's hard to estimate because production schedules vary wildly between ads, films, and tv shows) for six to eight months if not less, so you'd have your bills well covered through the lean periods and be able to recover from what is an enormously taxing job both physically and emotionally. this was never true for EVERYONE, film work's always been a hustle and making a career of it is often a luck-based crapshoot, but generally that was the model and for a lot of folks it worked. it meant more time to practice their skills on the job, sustainably building expertise and domain knowledge that they could then pass down to future newcomers. anything that removes such opportunities decreases the amount of practice workers get, and any increased demand on their time makes them significantly more likely to burn out of the industry early. lower pay, shorter shoots, busier schedules, these aren't just bad for individual workers but for the entire industry, and that includes the robust and well-funded advertising industry.

well, anyway, this year's coca-cola christmas ad was made with AI. they had maybe one person on quality control using an adobe aftereffects mask to add in the coke branding. this is the ultimate intended use-case for AI. it required the expertise of zero unionized labor, and worst of all the end result is largely indistinguishable from the alternative. you'll often see folks despair at this verisimilitude, particularly when a study comes out that shows (for instance) people can't tell the difference between real poetry and chat gpt generated poetry. i despair as well, but for different reasons. i despair that production of ads is a better source of income and experience for film workers than traditional movies or television. i despair that this technology is fulfilling an age-old promise about the disposability of artistic labor. poetry is not particularly valued by our society, is rarely taught to people beyond a beginner's gloss on meter and rhyme. "my name is sarah zedig and i'm here to say, i'm sick of this AI in a major way" type shit. end a post with the line "i so just wish that it would go away and never come back again!" and then the haiku bot swoops in and says, oh, 5/7/5 you say? that is technically a haiku! and then you put a haiku-making minigame in your crowd-pleasing japanese nationalist open world chanbara simulator, because making a haiku is basically a matter of selecting one from 27 possible phrase combinations. wait, what do you mean the actual rules of haiku are more elastic and subjective than that? that's not what my english teacher said in sixth grade!

AI is able to slip in and surprise us with its ability to mimic human-produced art because we already treat most human-produced art like mechanical surplus of little to no value. ours is a culture of wikipedia-level knowledge, where you have every incentive to learn a lot of facts about something so that you can sufficiently pretend to have actually experienced it. but this is not to say that humans would be better able to tell the difference between human produced and AI produced poetry if they were more educated about poetry! the primary disconnect here is economic. Poets already couldn't make a fucking living making poetry, and now any old schmuck can plug a prompt into chatgpt and say they wrote a sonnet. even though they always had the ability to sit down and write a sonnet!

boosters love to make hay about "deskilling" and "democratizing" and "making accessible" these supposedly gatekept realms of supposedly bourgeois expression, but what they're really saying (whether they know it or not) is that skill and training have no value anymore. and they have been saying this since long before AI as we know it now existed! creative labor is the backbone of so much of our world, and yet it is commonly accepted as a poverty profession. i grew up reading books and watching movies based on books and hearing endless conversation about books and yet when i told my family "i want to be a writer" they said "that's a great way to die homeless." like, this is where the conversation about AI's impact starts. we already have a culture that simultaneously NEEDS the products of artistic labor, yet vilifies and denigrates the workers who perform that labor. folks see a comic panel or a corporate logo or a modern art piece and say "my kid could do that," because they don't perceive the decades of training, practice, networking, and experimentation that resulted in the finished product. these folks do not understand that just because the labor of art is often invisible doesn't mean it isn't work.

i think this entire conversation is backwards. in an ideal world, none of this matters. human labor should not be valued over machine labor because it inherently possesses an aura of human-ness. art made by humans isn't better than AI generated art on qualitative grounds. art is subjective. you're not wrong to find beauty in an AI image if the image is beautiful. to my mind, the value of human artistic labor comes down to the simple fact that the world is better when human beings make art. the world is better when we have the time and freedom to experiment, to play, to practice, to develop and refine our skills to no particular end except whatever arbitrary goal we set for ourselves. the world is better when people collaborate on a film set to solve problems that arise organically out of the conditions of shooting on a live location. what i see AI being used for is removing as many opportunities for human creativity as possible and replacing them with statistical averages of prior human creativity. this passes muster because art is a product that exists to turn a profit. because publicly traded companies have a legal responsibility to their shareholders to take every opportunity to turn a profit regardless of how obviously bad for people those opportunities might be.

that common sense says writing poetry, writing prose, writing anything is primarily about reaching the end of the line, about having written something, IS the problem. i've been going through the many unfinished novels i wrote in high school lately, literally hundreds of thousands of words that i shared with maybe a dozen people and probably never will again. what value do those words have? was writing them a waste of time since i never posted them, never finished them, never turned a profit off them? no! what i've learned going back through those old drafts is that i'm only the writer i am today BECAUSE i put so many hours into writing generic grimdark fantasy stories and bizarrely complicated werewolf mythologies.

you know i used to do open mics? we had a poetry group that met once a month at a local cafe in college. each night we'd start by asking five words from the audience, then inviting everyone to compose a poem using those words in 10 to 15 minutes. whoever wanted to could read their poem, and whoever got the most applause won a free drink from the cafe. then we'd spend the rest of the night having folks sign up to come and read whatever. sometimes you'd get heartfelt poems about personal experiences, sometimes you'd get ambitious soundcloud rappers, sometimes you'd get a frat guy taking the piss, sometimes you'd get a mousy autist just doing their best. i don't know that any of the poetry i wrote back then has particular value today, but i don't really care. the point of it was the experience in that moment. the experience of composing something on the fly, or having something you wrote a couple days ago, then standing up and reading it. the value was in the performance itself, in the momentary synthesis between me and the audience. i found out then that i was pretty good at making people cry, and i could not have had that experience in any other venue. i could not have felt it so viscerally had i just posted it online. and i cannot wrap up that experience and give it to you, because it only existed then.

i think more people would write poetry if they had more hours in a day to spare for frivolities, if there existed more spaces where small groups could organize open mics, if transit made those spaces more widely accessible, if everyone made enough money that they weren't burned the fuck out and not in the mood to go to an open mic tonight, if we saw poetry as a mode of personal reflection which was as much about the experience of having written it as anything else. this is the case for all the arts. right now, the only people who can afford to make a living doing art are already wealthy, because art doesn't pay well. this leads to brain drain and overall lowering quality standards, because the suburban petty bouge middle class largely do not experience the world as it materially exists for the rest of us. i often feel that many tech CEOs want to be remembered the way andy warhol is remembered. they want to be loved and worshipped not just for business acumen but for aesthetic value, they want to get the kind of credit that artists get-- because despite the fact that artists don't get paid shit, they also frequently get told by people "your work changed my life." how is it that a working class person with little to no education can write a story that isn't just liked but celebrated, that hundreds or thousands of people imprint on, that leaves a mark on culture you can't quantify or predict or recreate? this is AI's primary use-case, to "democratize" art in such a way that hacks no longer have to work as hard to pretend to be good at what they do. i mean, hell, i have to imagine every rich person with an autobiography in the works is absolutely THRILLED that they no longer have to pay a ghost writer!

so, circling back around to the meat of your question. as far as telling people not to use AI because "you're just helping to train it," that ship has long since sailed. getting mad at individuals for using AI right now is about as futile as getting mad at individuals for not masking-- yes, obviously they should wear a mask and write their own essays, but to say this is simply a matter of millions of individuals making the same bad but unrelated choice over and over is neoliberal hogwash. people stopped masking because they were told to stop masking by a government in league with corporate interests which had every incentive to break every avenue of solidarity that emerged in 2020. they politicized masks, calling them "the scarlet letter of [the] pandemic". biden himself insisted this was "a pandemic of the unvaccinated", helpfully communicating to the public that if you're vaccinated, you don't need to mask. all those high case numbers and death counts? those only happen to the bad people.

now you have CEOs and politicians and credulous media outlets and droves of grift-hungry influencers hard selling the benefits of AI in everything everywhere all the time. companies have bent over backwards to incorporate AI despite ethics and security worries because they have a fiduciary responsibility to their shareholders, and everyone with money is calling this the next big thing. in short, companies are following the money, because that's what companies do. they, in turn, are telling their customers what tools to use and how. so of course lots of people are using AI for things they probably shouldn't. why wouldn't they? "the high school/college essay" as such has been quantized and stripmined by an education system dominated by test scores over comprehension. it is SUPPOSED to be an exercise in articulating ideas, to teach the student how to argue persuasively. the final work has little to no value, because the point is the process. but when you've got a system that lives and dies by its grades, within which teachers are given increasingly more work to do, less time to do it in, and a much worse paycheck for their trouble, the essay increasingly becomes a simple pass/fail gauntlet to match the expected pace set by the simple, clean, readily gradable multiple choice quiz. in an education system where the stakes for students are higher than they've ever been, within which you are increasingly expected to do more work in less time with lower-quality guidance from your overworked teachers, there is every incentive to get chatgpt to write your essay for you.

do you see what i'm saying? we can argue all day about the shoulds here. of course i think it's better when people write their own essays, do their own research, personally read the assigned readings. but cheating has always been a problem. a lot of these same fears were aired over the rising popularity of cliffs notes in the 90s and 2000s! the real problem here is systemic. it's economic. i would have very little issue with the output of AI if existing conditions were not already so precarious. but then, if the conditions were different, AI as we know it likely would not exist. it emerges today as the last gasp of a tech industry that has been floundering for a reason to exist ever since the smart phone dominated the market. they tried crypto. they tried the metaverse. now they're going all-in on AI because it's a perfect storm of shareholder-friendly buzzwords and the unscientific technomythology that's been sold to laymen by credulous press sycophants for decades. It slots right into this niche where the last of our vestigial respect for "the artist" once existed. it is the ultimate expression of capitalist realism, finally at long last doing away with the notion that the suits at disney could never in their wildest dreams come up with something half as cool as the average queer fanfic writer. now they've got a program that can plagiarize that fanfic (along with a dozen others) for them, laundering the theft through a layer of transformation which perhaps mirrors how the tech industry often exploits open source software to the detriment of the open source community. the catastrophe of AI is that it's the fulfillment of a promise that certainly predates computers at the very least.

so, i don't really know what to tell someone who uses AI for their work. if i was talking to a student, i'd say that relying chatgpt is really gonna screw you over when it comes time take the SAT or ACT, and you have to write an essay from scratch by hand in a monitored environment-- but like, i also think the ACT and SAT and probably all the other standardized tests shouldn't exist? or at the very least ought to be severely devalued, since prep for those tests often sabotages the integrity of actual classroom education. although, i guess at this point the only way forward for education (that isn't getting on both knees and deep-throating big tech) is more real-time in-class monitored essay writing, which honestly might be better for all parties anyway. of course that does nothing to address research essays you can't write in a single class session. to someone who uses AI for research, i'd probably say the same thing as i would to someone who uses wikipedia: it's a fine enough place to start, but don't cite it. click through links, find sources, make sure what you're reading is real, don't rely on someone else's generalization. know that chatgpt is likely not pulling information from a discrete database of individual files that it compartmentalizes the way you might expect, but rather is a statistical average of a broad dataset about which it cannot have an opinion or interpretation. sometimes it will link you to real information, but just as often it will invent information from whole cloth. honestly, the more i talk it out, the more i realize all this advice is basically identical to the advice adults were giving me in the early 2000s.

which really does cement for me that the crisis AI is causing in education isn't new and did not come from nowhere. before chatgpt, students were hiring freelancers on fiverr. i already mentioned cliffs notes. i never used any of these in college, but i'll also freely admit that i rarely did all my assigned reading. i was the "always raises her hand" bitch, and every once in a while i'd get other students who were always dead silent in class asking me how i found the time to get the reading done. i'd tell them, i don't. i read the beginning, i read the ending, and then i skim the middle. whenever a word or phrase jumps out at me, i make a note of it. that way, when the professor asks a question in class, i have exactly enough specific pieces of information at hand to give the impression of having done the reading. and then i told them that i learned how to do this from the very same professor that was teaching that class. the thing is, it's not like i learned nothing from this process. i retained quite a lot of information from those readings! this is, broadly, a skill that emerges from years of writing and reading essays. but then you take a step back and remember that for most college students (who are not pursuing any kind of arts degree), this skillset is relevant to an astonishingly minimal proportion of their overall course load. college as it exists right now is treated as a jobs training program, within which "the essay" is a relic of an outdated institution that highly valued a generalist liberal education where today absolute specialization seems more the norm. so AI comes in as the coup de gras to that old institution. artists like myself may not have the constitution for the kind of work that colleges now exist to funnel you into, but those folks who've never put a day's thought into the work of making art can now have a computer generate something at least as good at a glance as basically anything i could make. as far as the market is concerned, that's all that matters. the contents of an artwork, what it means to its creator, the historic currents it emerges out of, these are all technicalities that the broad public has been well trained not to give a shit about most of the time. what matters is the commodity and the economic activity it exists to generate.

but i think at the end of the day, folks largely want to pay for art made by human beings. that it's so hard for a human being to make a living creating and selling art is a question far older than AI, and whose answer hasn't changed. pay workers more. drastically lower rents. build more affordable housing. make healthcare free. make education free. massively expand public transit. it is simply impossible to overstate how much these things alone would change the conversation about AI, because it would change the conversation about everything. SO MUCH of the dominance of capital in our lives comes down to our reliance on cars for transit (time to get a loan and pay for insurance), our reliance on jobs for health insurance (can't quit for moral reasons if it's paying for your insulin), etc etc etc. many of AI's uses are borne out of economic precarity and a ruling class desperate to vacuum up every loose penny they can find. all those billionaires running around making awful choices for the rest of us? they stole those billions. that is where our security went. that is why everything is falling apart, because the only option remaining to *every* institutional element of society is to go all-in on the profit motive. tax these motherfuckers and re-institute public arts funding. hey, did you know the us government used to give out grants to artists? did you know we used to have public broadcast networks where you could make programs that were shown to your local community? why the hell aren't there public youtube clones? why aren't there public transit apps? why aren't we CONSTANTLY talking about nationalizing these abusive fucking industries that are falling over themselves to integrate AI because their entire modus operandi is increasing profits regardless of product quality?

these are the questions i ask myself when i think about solutions to the AI problem. tech needs to be regulated, the monopolies need breaking up, but that's not enough. AI is a symptom of a much deeper illness whose treatment requires systemic solutions. and while i'm frustrated when i see people rely on AI for their work, or otherwise denigrate artists who feel AI has devalued their field, on some level i can't blame them. they are only doing what they've been told to do. all of which merely strengthens my belief in the necessity of an equitable socialist future (itself barely step zero in the long path towards a communist future, and even that would only be a few steps on the even longer path to a properly anarchist future). improve the material conditions and you weaken the dominance of capitalist realism, however minutely. and while there are plenty of reasons to despair at the likelihood of such a future given a second trump presidency, i always try to remember that socialist policies are very popular and a *lot* of that popularity emerged during the first trump administration. the only wrong answer here is to assume that losing an election is the same thing as losing a war, that our inability to put the genie back in its bottle means we can't see our own wishes granted.

i dunno if i answered your question but i sure did say a lot of stuff, didn't i?

[galaxiasgreen]

🎃🐈‍⬛Cat Burglar

Halloween shenanigans with minor Garreth/F!Reader [T-Rated, 3k words]

“What the hell are you wearing?” “What?” said Garreth. “It’s a pumpkin costume.” “You’re taking a girl, you knobhead! You’re meant to dress sexy! Like me!” Tight trousers, a long, leather coat, and the criss-cross of belts over his bare chest… “You’re barely dressed!” “Exactly!"

A/N: This was written for @garrethweasleyfest! My prompts were Garreth POV on a major holiday, Garreth gives MC a new potion with some unintended side effects, and Modern AU coffee shop, and because I like chaos I decided to (loosely) mush all three, resulting in the most crack thing I’ve ever written.

Very grateful to contribute to the Garreth fandom in whatever small way I can. Special thanks to cuff and Elli for organising the fest. Make sure to support all the other amazing Garreth content using the hashtags #GarrethWeasleyFest and #GarrethWeasleyFest2024! And, as always, please enjoy <3

[read on AO3]

Officer Ruth Singer sinks into the chair opposite with a sigh.

“All right, Mr Weasley, let’s cut to the chase. Where’s the Ferrari you stole?”

To be quite frank, Garreth’s not entirely sure how he got here. He’s not sure why he’s wearing half a pumpkin costume and cinching-on-his-private-area orange tights. Hell, he barely knows what a Ferrari is (just that it’s expensive. And bad to steal).

He does know, however, that he did not do it.

“I know it looks bad, ma’am,” he says, trying to raise his hands – they’re handcuffed to the desk with less wiggle room than a finger up an arse. “But I’m innocent. You’ve nabbed the wrong man.”

Officer Singer has a round, childlike face, but in all her riot gear she looks barely contained in the tiny interrogation room. One swoop of her glower almost makes his orange tights brown.

“Look, kid, you were clearly out for Halloween. Want to look cool for your mates and fancied yourself a new ride, doing doughnuts or whatever.”

“I don’t need to steal anything to have a doughnut! Please, Officer Singer. I know I’m innocent. In fact, I was framed.” The detail comes back to him sharply. “And I can tell you what happened.”

Sort of. He’ll remember the specifics along the way. Hopefully.

Singer gestures vaguely. “Go on, then. Let's hear it.”

Garreth sits up.

“It all started three weeks ago…”

“Froth the milk, Weasley.”

Froth the milk. Right. Garreth turned to the countertop he’d wiped clean of droplets two seconds ago. The monstrosity taking up most of its surface was supposedly called a masheen, a big metal box with loads of buttons and a pipe stuck out the middle. He’d been working at Aesip’s Coffee House for a while now, but this contraption was so complicated he hadn’t got the hang of it yet.

“Yes, Mr Sharp.” He grabbed a carton of milk from the cool box and poured it into a jug, which he stuck under the masheen and whispered, “Heatus Upus… Ventus Milkus… Incendio? Work with me, please.”

“You have to steam the milk.”

He turned sharply. You were about his age and wickedly pretty, wearing form-fitting clothes under a long, black coat, and leather gloves accentuating the slender bones of your fingers. You nodded to the jug, brow sloped in quiet exasperation.

“Put the steam wand in.”

“Wand?” he said. Then he remembered the long pipe. “Oh, right, that thing.”

“Now pull the leaver. That activates the steam.”

You were right; the milk frothed nicely. Even Sharp seemed mildly impressed Garreth managed not to explode anything, when he took the jug with a raised brow.

“I will brew you the best drink as thanks,” Garreth said to you, when Sharp was gone.

“Just a black coffee is fine.”

“Takeaway?” You nodded. “And does my illustrious saviour have a name? To write on the cup, of course.” He winked.

You pursed your lips. “Prim will do.”

Prim. Oh, he liked that.

It became a routine. Every day you came in and ordered the same thing. He’d chat and flirt, you’d giggle and smile. Sometimes your visits coincided with that of Sebastian Sallow’s, Garreth’s annoyingly handsome, annoyingly charming, and annoyingly annoying acquaintance who through full fault of his own made Garreth look bad – but you hid when he was close, gaze flickering to Garreth under low-lidded eyes. Obviously his humour, good looks and handsome fit in Aesip’s green apron was enough to win you over.

“Hello, Garreth!” piped a voice from behind the counter. “Can I order a cappuccino?”

October cold had webbed the coffee house windows with frost. Garreth rolled his shoulders. The girl was vaguely recognisable, with glasses and pigtails. What was her name? Something stupid, like Gabble.

“‘Course! Anything el—?”

“Made ristretto with half soy and half oat milk and three pumps of caramel and half hazelnut, extra chocolate drizzle, crumb topping and whipped cream in a large cup and no water. Oh, and a slice of strawberry cake. Thanks!”

Garreth frantically scribbled it down as Gabble-Maybe skipped off to find a table. Merlin’s nipsicles, how the hell does anyone talk that fast? He went to grab the milk. Did she want almond? Or chocolate?

“Do you need help?”

Your voice made him jump. You were good at that, appearing silently. “Yes, please?”

You recited everything again, slower, and he wrote it down. “You have a great memory, Prim.”

You shrugged. “Practice.”

“Don’t be modest, you’re saving my arse. Thank you.” He scoured the cool box for soy milk. “Although, just saying, if I had my wand I wouldn’t need to do it by hand.”

“What?”

He blinked, not really sure why he said that. “Sorry. Usual?”

“Yes, please,” you said with a cute smile. “Although I was thinking… maybe adding a syrup?”

“Whoa, flying the broom away, aren’t we?” He winked. “What flavour?”

“Surprise me.”

As he concocted the drink, chatting merrily away and discreetly adding a gloop of pumpkin spice, the doorbell tingled. Sebastian strode inside in a loose shirt and pressed trousers, and a peacoat made of some expensive wool. Oh joy.

Garreth slid the drink to you, and your cute smile widened. “Thank you, and, erm… I… I wondered…” You glanced at Sebastian intensely power-walking towards him, and quickly mumbled, “Never mind,” before rushing to the nearest table to avoid getting trampled.

A second later, Sebastian slapped down some gold rectangle and proclaimed, “Coffee as black as my soul, Weasley. Make it fast. I have better things to do.”

Most days Garreth had no idea if he was joking. His sense of humour was so warped Garreth couldn’t tell anymore.

“Latte with cream then?”

“I’m in a good mood so I’m going to ignore that.” Sebastian plucked a key ring from a pocket and twirled it around. “The stock deal went through. Decided to treat myself. Don’t be jealous.”

“What the hell is that? A lighter?”

“It’s a fob,” he declared, “for my Ferrari.”

Holy shit! Garreth thought. What the hell is a Ferrari!

“If you’re nice I might let you look at it. From a safe distance. Behind a window.” Sebastian stuffed the fob into his coat pocket. “Oh, yeah, and Leander’s party tonight, turns out Missy is going, so I guess I’ll deign to go as well.” He fixed him a sharp look. “You are going, right?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Good. You can hold my drinks. And a date?”

“It’s Halloween, thirty-first, mate.”

“No, you turd, are you bringing anyone?”

“Oh.” No, and he wasn’t likely to either. Everyone he knew was already going: Natty, Cress, Amit and Everett, Adelaide, Ominis and Imelda. He poured a black coffee and slid it over. “It’s not necessary, right?”

Sebastian took it with a roll of his eyes. “God, Weasley, why do I hang out with you?”

“Bothering me at work isn’t hanging out.”

“Do you think I want to go to Leander’s place? I’m only going because Missy is. Just find a date so you don’t look like the only loser.”

“You don’t have a date either!” Garreth yelled, but Sebastian was already halfway out the door. Merlin’s chapped lips. The bloke would be decent, really, if not for the ego bigger than a planet.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Garreth…”

He jumped. You had magically reappeared again, avoiding eye contact but batting those lovely, luscious eyelashes.

“Could I trouble you for a napkin?”

“Yes! Of course!” He grabbed a wodge. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, and the coffee is really delicious.” You looked down at your gloves. “I really appreciate you making it for me.”

“You’re welcome.” His heart did a little triple-twist somersault. “Happy to help broaden your taste buds.”

You gave him another small, cute smile, which made his cheeks warm, before retreating again to leave—

Just find a date. Sebastian’s words decked him in the face. Holy moly. He was staring at the solution.

Like a drunk shotput, he flung himself out from behind the counter, narrowly missing Mrs Hecat taking her mint tea, and hurried after you.

“Wait, Prim—” he squeaked before you stepped out, then coughed out in his very deep, manly voice, “Er, ahem, wait, Prim.”

Your face brightened. “Is something wrong?”

“D’you want to go to a Halloween party tonight?” It popped out like a stealth fart. Merlin’s uvula! “I mean. Would you— maybe, if you want— but no pressure—”

“Yes!” you blurted. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

Quickly you scribbled a string of numbers onto some paper and tucked it into his pocket. What the hell is that? some inner voice piped, but then he realised you were so close he could smell the pumpkin spice on your breath, so you could’ve given him a used tissue for all he cared.

“Send me the details?” you whispered sensually.

“Yeah, already sending. I mean, I will. Send. The details.”

You gave him a cute wave on the way out, and once you were out of view, Garreth did a little dance.

“Don’t quit your day job,” muttered Hecat, rolling her eyes.

With Sebastian’s help, and some sort of portable communication device called a foan, Garreth found himself waiting outside the café five hours later when a sleek, green mechanical carriage roared around the corner and stopped abruptly at the pavement’s side. Sebastian rolled the window down – and his jaw snapped upwards with an almighty clack.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“What?” said Garreth. “It’s a pumpkin costume.”

“You’re taking a girl, you knobhead! You’re meant to dress sexy! Like me!”

Tight trousers, a long, leather coat, and the criss-cross of belts over his bare chest…

“You’re barely dressed!”

“Exactly! Jesus, just get in.”

Garreth reluctantly slid into the passenger’s side. The carriage was so strange, with an angled front-facing window overlooking the road, plush, leather seats and a wheel that steered itself – allowing Sebastian the chance to snatch Garreth’s pumpkin hat and chuck it out the side. They were going so fast it practically vanished.

“Who’s this girl you’ve invited anyway? Is she fit?”

“I can’t comment on a woman’s weight,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But she’s a customer. Cute.”

Sebastian hummed. “I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had game, Weasley.”

“I get my meat from the butchers, but thanks?”

Leander’s house was a giant three-storey mansion in the countryside, fed light down the driveway by a string of torches and a collection of dancing skeletons. Sebastian tossed the mechanical carriage into an awkward spot in the middle of the front courtyard.

In the darkness, the shape of you was palpable. With a shiny black one-piece that moulded perfectly to your curves and chest, and a pair of cute ears and eyeliner-drawn whiskers, Garreth’s brain became instant mush. You were… dressed like a cat. An attractive cat.

“I like your costume,” you said to him, once you met on the front steps. “Do I look okay?”

“Errrrr,” he stammered out. “Girl… yes… girl hot— I mean, girl thot— I mean— shit—”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Christ, Weasley. Let’s go in.”

The party was already booming. Rock music was blasting from open parlour, and mood lighting was creating a coalescent effect of red, blue and green marbling on the walls. Bodies were squished together and dancing. The host himself was front and centre, in only a sailor’s hat and a pair of skimpy shorts, getting drunk with Natty and Cress as a succubus and a nun who’d clearly lost the way.

Dragon dung, I really did miss the memo on costumes! Ugh, and his tights were so uncomfortable, too!

Sebastian peeled off his coat and chucked it at Garreth. “Go deposit that somewhere safe. If I find any cash missing, I’ll know which skint bastard to blame.”

He immediately dove into the bodies, probably looking for Missy, leaving you and Garreth with the coat like a plonker. You took Garreth’s hand suddenly – his haunches rose.

“Shall we go put that… somewhere private?”

Merlin’s coccyx. Garreth was about to die. Of glee.

“Leander has a coat room. This way.”

The place was fairly small despite the size of the house, and it was already jammed with a variety of fleeces, bags, capes, elaborate headgear and abandoned props. He tried to find a hook near the back but nearly tripped – you snatched his arm and pulled him close to steady him, and your breath, minty and fresh and enticing, whirled into his nose.

“Be careful,” you whispered in that sensual voice. “Let me do it.”

You took the coat and stretched around him, causing blood to rush up his neck. Pretty girl. Pretty costume. His brain managed only caveman utterances as a strong impulse to crush his lips to yours overwhelmed him. When you reached back, however, your hands wandered, going from the coat to his hair, dragging your fingers through like a comb. His mouth went dry tracing the silhouette of your body, and the look of hunger in your eyes.

“Prim—” he choked out.

You placed a finger to his lip. “Outside?”

He took your hand and marched you out front again. Good grief, it was happening. He didn’t make it one step down the courtyard before you pulled him down, meeting his lips with your own. The kiss was so unexpected and warm and amazing all the hesitation in his chest dissolved. His hands met your waist, his chest your own. You tasted like an addiction, poisonous and unyielding. He wanted more, so much more.

The kissing intensified. It was so chilly, yet he was burning up within, throwing himself willingly into the flames of you. Oblivious of the surroundings, he let himself be guided to wherever the hell you wanted. Your tongue skimmed the seam of his mouth and it took all his willpower not to moan. Was this Muggle Heaven? He fell back on something soft, flat out against – a leather seat?

You peeled yourself off as you threw the rest of him into the passenger’s seat of Sebastian’s Ferrari. Garreth yelped.

“Er, Prim—?”

In two seconds you were in the driver’s seat, and revving the engine. The Ferrari purred to life, and when you hit the accelerator, Garreth’s face mashed against the back of the seat.

“Prim! What the hell are you—?”

The carriage swerved left, pitching him sideways until he grabbed the headrest to steady himself. He screamed. Only when you were in some country road did you lurch to a stop. Garreth caught his breath.

“We could’ve just snogged in the courtyard, you know!”

You turned, casting him a sweet, ominous smile, and swung a key ring around your clawed finger. He stared at it, recognising the shape…

“Wait a second… that’s Sebastian’s knob!”

“Fob, Garreth,” you corrected. “And it’s mine now.”

“What? But—”

“I have to thank you, actually. He’s been a target for weeks but getting close to him was impossible… until I met you.” You pressed something on the dashboard and passenger door opened, letting in a rush of frigid air. “I can’t believe you’d break his trust.”

“But— I didn’t do anything!”

With one swift movement, you kicked Garreth square in the chest. He took the blow unprepared, tumbling into the cold and landing on the compacted mud with a thump.

“Sebastian will notice soon,” you said casually. “They’ll find your hair all over his coat. Don’t worry, I’ve confiscated your phone so you can’t contact anyone. Should give me a few hours leeway, but I’m sure he’ll notice you’re gone first. You’re not a bad kisser though.” You winked. “See you next time, gorgeous.”

The door sealed shut, and the metal carriage sped off, churning dust and smoke in Garreth’s face.

“And that’s how I was framed.”

Officer Singer stares at him like he’s become the pumpkin.

“You’re saying this girl Prim used you to steal the Ferrari from Mr Sallow?”

“Exactly right!”

“When she doesn’t exist?”

“What?”

“The number you texted isn’t in service. No record of her at any local business or university. You don’t even have a name?”

Garreth feels sweat drip from head to arse. “N-No, but I swear she’s real!”

“Yeah, okay, and I’m going home to feed my unicorn.”

“Unicorns are real too! And Sebastian saw her!”

“Mr Sallow did indeed see someone that night, but it was dark. She could’ve been any of the other party guests.”

“But she wasn’t—”

“I’m afraid the evidence is stacked against you.” Singer stands. “You’re under arrest for Ferrari-theft—”

“No, please!”

“— where you’ll face trial—”

“No!”

“— and then… Azkaban.”

“NOOOOO—”

“—OOOOOOOO!”

Pain shoots down his head and shoulders. Garreth gulps in a sharp breath and pries open his eyes – everything’s blurry, but he can just make out his legs stuck in the air and the rest of his body awkwardly folded between the foot of his bed and the floor. Except for undergarments, he’s arse-naked. Everything’s spinning, his hair’s dishevelled, and his innards feel like they might quickly become outards.

“Garreth! Are you all right?”

A vague shape above him crystallises into you, staring down at him with a hand over your mouth. You’re barely dressed, just a thin nightgown.

“Prim… what…?”

“I told you that potion was a bad idea,” you scold, helping him onto the bed’s edge. “Enhancing your dreams… try nightmares! I tried shaking you and nothing worked! You just sat there and drooled for thirty minutes!”

“Wait— so…” Everything was a dream? That tavern with the weird masheen and Sebastian’s metal carriage and you being a cat burglar but not the cute kind—

“Prim,” he pulls you into a hug, “Merlin’s nappy rash, I love you. I love you just the way you are.”

“Er…” You pat him on the back. “I love you too?”

“And I will be the best boyfriend ever as long as you never to get me arrested for a Ferrari!”

You fix him a sweet, if exasperated smile.

“You know I would never try to get you arrested, Garreth. Whatever you saw in your nightmare wasn’t real.”

And thank goodness for that. He sags and rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m never drinking that potion again.”

“That sounds like a very wise idea,” you say. “I do have to ask though… what’s a Ferrari?”

Garreth kisses your nose.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

Fin.

My eternal gratitude to CharlesSTBeaufort for fielding all my annoying car questions. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

[read on AO3]

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