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hermetiqa · 2 days ago

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YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE'S FIRST IMPRESSION OF YOU

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

How to pick a pile: close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

Note: please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

ㅤ HOME ⋆ MASTERLIST

ㅤ WITCHY SHOP ⋆ TIP JAR

PILE ONE

Hello, Pile 1! Welcome to your reading. So what I'm getting is that your future spouse's first impression of you will be a mix of emotional, intellectual, and practical nature. Your future spouse will see you as their soulmate or "the one" the moment they see/meet you. When you meet, they'll be in the stage of life where life's testing them real bad. I feel like they're one of the fixed signs who will be heavily affected by Pluto in Aquarius and their life will be such a rollercoaster ride. So when they meet you, they'll feel like this rollercoaster ride has just ended because you'll be their comfort zone. I'm seeing that you could have a masculine energy who's emotionally intelligent and/or connected/in touch with your emotions. Your future spouse admires this trait of yours and it makes them want you even more in their life. I'm also getting that your future spouse sees you as someone who's practical and might be good with money. You could be financially stable or money flows easily for you. They see you as someone nurturing and caring, to the point that you're really committed to them and to your relationship.

PILE TWO

Hello there, Pile 2! Welcome to your reading. First of all, what I'm getting here is that your future spouse will see you as someone who constantly learns something new. You might meet at a university or institutions or workplace where you're required to learn and enhance new skills. To your future spouse, you're a logical person and you might have masculine energy. I'm getting the IDGAF energy here and this might be their first impression of you. They see you as someone who doesn't tolerate toxicity and bad behavior. When someone does you wrong or dirty for the first time and they apologize to you, you'll accept and forgive. But if they do it again on the second time, that's a goodbye to them. There will be no third time. You don't give a fuck whether they'll be hurt when you cut ties because first of all, that's their fault and you're simply protecting yourself from their energy. I'm also seeing that your future spouse will see you as someone who knows what you want and you just do your thing and get it. Just like in Ariana's song 7 rings, "I want it, I got it" which I keep hearing right now. I also feel like when you meet, you might be in a "stuck" situation or you're mentally foggy and they'll notice this so your future spouse will have the urge to help you or approach you and be in their strongest masculine energy because they see you as someone with masculine energy, and they'll try to beat that. Not because of ego, but because they know you have high standards and well, they want you so they'll try to fit in those standards, but not in a fake or pretentious way, but in a way that they'll be a better person.

PILE THREE

Hello, Pile 3! Welcome to your reading. Well, this is such a passionate and fiery energy here. I'm getting that your future spouse's first impression of you is that they'll see you as someone who's fiery. You have a lot of courage and when someone tests you or makes your life a bit difficult, you don't back down. Instead, you fight back. I can see that your future spouse sees you as someone who's expanding your finances. You're trying to make your financial life stable here, or even more than stable. You could meet at a workplace, specifically in business-related workplaces. I'm seeing a woman wearing a white blouse, dark blue/navy trousers and 3-inch black heels standing in front of a desk and typing something on the computer, helping someone get their work done or looking at their work. This could be you or them. I'm also seeing that your future spouse sees you as a passionate person, you're passionate in your job and you get all your work done. I feel like you could be the CEO here. I'm also seeing that your future spouse will be really physically attracted to you when you first meet (to a sexual level). They'll be starstruck when they see you and it'll feel like the world suddenly stopped moving.

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writingbuckets · 1 day ago

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The Hot Take: Part 3

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 2.8k

a/n: the only i have to say is that i shocked myself with my flirting... enjoy!

**********

After your night at the game, it feels like the internet has exploded. Your mentions are on fire with fans on both sides—some praising your brutal honesty about Paige, others calling you out for downplaying her talent. It’s only natural that you decide to dedicate an entire podcast episode to the experience.

You settle into your recording setup, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves—after all, tonight is a first. Across the table sits Paige Bueckers, cool and composed, though you catch a hint of mischief in her eyes as she adjusts her mic. You take a deep breath and lean in, grinning at your co-host before addressing the audience.

“Welcome back to The Hot Take! And tonight, we’re in for a treat. As you’ve probably guessed, we’ve got a special guest in the studio… the one, the only, Paige Bueckers!” You gesture toward her dramatically, and your co-host plays a quick soundbite of applause and crowd cheers, adding to the show’s theatrics.

Paige laughs, crossing her arms as she glances at you. “The crowd goes wild. I didn’t think you’d actually let me come on here, considering all the things you’ve said about me.”

You shoot her a mock-offended look. “What things? I’m nothing if not fair and unbiased.”

She raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, totally. Because your comment was so fair and unbiased.”

Your co-host snickers. “Well, Paige, you’re in the right place if you want to get your revenge. Y/N here is known for her ‘brutal honesty.’ But hey, tonight might be a chance for you to change her mind.”

“Is that a challenge?” Paige asks, leaning forward, her gaze never leaving yours.

“Depends. You think you’re up for it?” you reply, meeting her eyes head-on, enjoying the charge of the challenge between you two.

“Oh, I’m always up for a challenge,” she responds smoothly, flashing a grin that has you momentarily caught off guard.

Your co-host breaks the tension with a laugh. “Alright, alright, let’s jump right in. Y/N, you’ve had plenty to say about Paige in the past. Care to share some of those hot takes now that she’s here to defend herself?”

You clear your throat, trying to hide your smirk. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight,” you say, addressing both the mic and Paige. “As much as it pains me to admit this…” You pause dramatically, shooting a look her way. “Bueckers actually impressed me the other night.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Really? I didn’t think you’d ever admit that.”

“I know, it’s shocking, but credit where credit’s due,” you continue. “I mean, you’re quick on the court, you know your angles, and—dare I say it—you know how to work a crowd.”

Paige laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, so you were paying attention. Here I was, thinking you came just to judge.”

“Oh, I absolutely came to judge,” you reply, grinning. “But I also got to see you actually back it up with skill. It was… not as overrated as I’d assumed.” You shoot her a wink, and she laughs, shaking her head.

“High praise,” she replies, feigning a look of being overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize tonight was all about showering me with compliments.”

Your co-host jumps in, clearly amused by the dynamic. “Wait, Y/N, are you actually going soft? Compliments? Feeling a little flustered, maybe?”

You shake your head, grinning. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m just saying, maybe I underestimated you.” You turn to Paige. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. I’m not here to just hype you up.”

Paige leans back in her chair, looking entirely at ease. “Don’t worry. I can handle a little constructive criticism. Hit me with your best shot.”

You take the opportunity, leaning forward with a smirk. “Alright, if you insist. Here’s my take: For all that talent, you could be a bit more creative with your moves. Sometimes it feels like you rely on what’s tried and true instead of taking risks.”

She smirks back. “And sometimes critics don’t realize the importance of consistency,” she counters smoothly. “Winning isn’t about impressing people—it’s about doing what works.”

“Touché,” you reply, though you’re secretly impressed by her response. You decide to press a little further. “Alright, so if it’s all about winning, how do you handle the pressure that comes with it? Isn’t there a part of you that wants to switch things up now and then?”

Paige leans forward, crossing her arms on the table. “I get that all the time. But you know, winning takes priority. Switching things up? That’s for off the court.” Her gaze holds yours, and for a second, you wonder if she’s talking about more than just basketball.

Your co-host notices the silent exchange and interrupts with a grin. “Okay, okay, I feel like there’s a whole vibe happening here that I did not sign up for!”

The comment pulls you back, and you laugh, brushing it off. “Nothing happening here,” you insist, stealing a quick glance at Paige.

Paige holds back a smirk, shrugging. “Sure, whatever you say.” But the gleam in her eye says otherwise.

Trying to keep things on track, you steer the conversation back to basketball, although the flirtatious edge remains. “Alright, Bueckers, one more thing. I’ll admit, you’ve got talent. But do you ever worry about being put in a box? People see you a certain way, and that’s how they’ll always see you.”

Paige pauses, and for a moment, the playful banter takes on a serious note. “Yeah, I get that. People think they know you, based on what they see online or on the court. But the truth is, they’re only seeing one side.”

It’s unexpectedly candid, and you nod, finding a bit of yourself in her answer. “Yeah. I get that. People always think they know everything from what they see online, but there’s always more, right?”

Paige’s gaze softens just slightly, and she nods. “Exactly. Sometimes I think it would be nice if people saw more than the ‘player’ version of me.”

You raise an eyebrow, catching the hint in her tone. “So… what would that look like, Bueckers?”

She gives you a playful smirk, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe you’ll find out if you’re lucky.”

Your co-host interjects, clearly amused. “Did I miss something here, or is this turning into a date?”

Both you and Paige laugh, shaking your heads in sync. “Not quite,” you say quickly, though your heart skips a beat.

Before wrapping up, you give Paige the last word. “Alright, Bueckers, we’ve had our fun. Any final words for our listeners?”

She leans toward the mic, glancing at you with a grin. “Only that this isn’t the last time you’ll hear from me, Y/N. I’m sticking around to make sure you don’t underestimate me again.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, bring your best game, then. I’ll be ready.”

The episode wraps up with lingering tension and the audience buzzing with intrigue, speculating wildly in the comments and social media. As you both step away from the mics, Paige meets your gaze with a small smile.

“Nice job,” she says, extending a hand.

You shake it, feeling the warmth of her grip, the playful energy still sparking between you. “Likewise, Bueckers. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

She gives you a wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**********

Not even an hour after the episode goes live, the reactions flood in. Your notifications blow up with fire emojis, heart-eyes, and endless comments as fans dissect every word, every sly look you exchanged with Paige, and every playful jab you threw her way. People seem to be either thrilled by your shift in tone or mourning the sharper edge of your usual critique. But there’s one thing they all seem to agree on—your chemistry with Paige was undeniable, and they’re dying to see where this dynamic goes next.

Then come the memes: screenshots of you glancing at Paige with a mix of disbelief and amusement, clips from older episodes where you roasted her, and side-by-sides comparing your expressions with Paige’s iconic moments on the court. One of your favorites is a split image of you with an exaggerated, eye-rolling expression, paired with Paige’s confident smirk from one of her highlight games. People are clearly having a field day, and you find yourself chuckling at the creativity as you scroll through the tag.

But just as you’re considering logging off for the night, a notification grabs your attention. It’s a comment from none other than Paige herself.

@PaigeBueckers: “Glad to see you’re finally catching on, Y/N. Game recognizes game, right? 😏”

You smirk, typing back a quick reply.

@notY/N: “Don’t get too comfortable, Bueckers. I’m just warming up. 😏”

Paige responds almost instantly, and suddenly, it’s a back-and-forth on full display for everyone to see.

@PaigeBueckers: “Comfortable? Nah. Just giving you something to talk about on that next episode of yours.”

@notY/N: “Who says you’re interesting enough for a second episode?”

@PaigeBueckers: “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong, then. Challenge accepted?”

The thread quickly spirals as fans jump in, hyping up every comment exchange, adding their own captions, and stirring up theories about your “rivalry.” By the time you close the app, #YNPBChallenge is trending, with people eagerly waiting for your next move. And though you won’t admit it, you’re already curious about hers.

Within hours, sports outlets start covering the “feud.” Clips of your episode circulate, paired with screenshots of Paige’s comments. Twitter is filled with fans trying to decode every little interaction, with hashtags like #PaigeAndY/N and #RivalryGoals popping up as the top trends. Some fans eagerly ship you and Paige, while others are taking sides, wanting to see if your critique holds up in future episodes.

Some of Paige’s teammates even get in on the fun, teasing her about the exchanges. Azzi Fudd, in particular, tweets, “So… when’s the first date, @paigebueckers? 👀”

You laugh when you see it, because of course Paige’s friends would be watching the whole thing unfold. You decide to add your own little stir to the pot.

Replying to Azzi’s tweet, you type, “First date? I think she’d need to step up her game a bit first.”

Not even a minute later, Paige replies to you directly: “Challenge accepted.”

The thread is flooded with reactions, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire internet is watching you two flirt in real time. You know it’s all in good fun, but there’s an undeniable thrill to it.

After the whirlwind of social media reactions, you finally step away from your phone, still replaying the day’s events. There’s an undeniable energy to this back-and-forth with Paige. Even through playful jabs and witty comebacks, there’s something deeper simmering—something that leaves you more curious than you’d like to admit.

Just as you’re about to call it a night, a new notification lights up your screen: a direct message from Paige herself. You hesitate for a moment, feeling an odd mix of excitement and nerves, and then finally open it.

Paige: “So… I’m dying to know—did you expect all of this to blow up the way it did?”

Her message catches you off guard. You’d expected something more competitive, maybe another cheeky comment. But this question feels more open, almost as if she’s genuinely curious about your perspective on all this unexpected attention.

Y/N: “Honestly? Not at all. I mean, I’m used to a little backlash, but this? Everyone’s treating it like it’s the story of the year.”

Paige: “Right? It’s kind of insane, but I have to say, you seem to handle it like a pro.”

A smile tugs at your lips. The words are simple enough, but there’s a warmth there, a hint of respect that takes you by surprise. You hadn’t expected Paige to be this down-to-earth.

Y/N: “I guess that’s part of the job, right? You get used to it, even when it’s… unexpected.”

Paige: “Guess we both know what that’s like. I mean, people see us a certain way, but they don’t really get the whole picture.”

Her message resonates with you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. It’s something you’ve thought about often—the assumptions people make, the way fans and critics alike paint you in broad strokes, not really seeing the person underneath. The more you think about it, the more you realize that Paige might understand that better than most.

Y/N: “True. Everyone thinks they know us based on what they see online, but there’s a lot that doesn’t make the highlight reel, right?”

Paige: “Exactly. It’s easy to play a role, keep it simple. But sometimes, it’s nice to just be real with someone who gets it.”

There’s a pause, a subtle weight to her words that makes you wonder if this is just harmless banter, or something more.

Y/N: “So, you’re saying I’m good enough to get the ‘real’ Paige Bueckers?”

Paige: “I’m saying maybe you’re not as overrated as you think you are, Y/N.”

You can’t help but laugh, the slight warmth of her compliment balanced by her usual dose of teasing. But even as the conversation winds down, a part of you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the start of something… different. The back-and-forth, the playful ribbing—it’s beginning to feel like more than just banter.

You let out a soft laugh, staring at the screen a little longer than you meant to, absorbing Paige’s last message. You’d expected a snarky retort, maybe a playful jab, but this? This is something else, something that has you wondering if she’s just as curious as you are. Before you can overthink it, you decide to keep the conversation going.

Y/N: “Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment—coming from someone who’s probably had a lifetime supply of them.”

Paige: “You’d think so, but it’s funny how most of them don’t mean much. I think I’ve just gotten good at smiling and nodding.”

Her honesty catches you off guard. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, one that’s different from the playful façade you’d seen at the game and in her comments. You find yourself softening, recognizing a piece of yourself in her words.

Y/N: “I get it. People are quick to build you up, but they don’t always see the work behind it. Or the stuff you keep off-camera.”

Paige: “Exactly. Sometimes it feels like it’s just about meeting everyone’s expectations.”

You feel a pang of understanding. Despite the banter, the jabs, you realize there’s a part of her that just wants to be seen for more than the hype, more than the image fans have painted of her. And, you realize, maybe that’s why this little rivalry-turned-conversation feels different than anything you’ve experienced before.

Y/N: “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m here for the real version of you—whatever that looks like.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you wonder if you’d gone too far. But just as you’re about to backpedal, her response pops up.

Paige: “Same goes for you, Y/N. Guess that means we’ll have to see what that actually looks like, right?”

Her words make your stomach do an unexpected flip. It’s an invitation, subtle but clear, to get to know her beyond the rivalry, beyond the image. And suddenly, it feels like this whole thing—the online banter, the “feud,” the unexpected DM—has been leading up to this moment.

Y/N: “Guess so. So, next time we bump into each other… coffee? Or are you more of a smoothie person?”

She replies almost instantly.

Paige: "Coffee works, as long as you promise not to trash-talk me in front of the barista."

You laugh, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the banter and everything to do with her openness.

Y/N: “Fine, I’ll tone it down. But don’t get too comfortable—I’m not going easy on you.”

Paige: “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

There’s a pause after that, a comfortable silence that feels like both a beginning and a challenge. As you put your phone down, a smile still on your face, you realize you’re genuinely excited to see where this goes.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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glossdebut · 19 hours ago

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study break | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world.

✧ TAGS: college au, smut, fluff

✧ WARNINGS: oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, slight overstimulation

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: okay, so this is NOT price of fame chapter two, nor is it the seokjin fic that i’ve been teasing for weeks. this is instead a secret third thing, inspired by my own post that has been living rent free in my brain for the past couple of days. i promise POF2 and the seokjin fic are both coming, but i had to get this out before i lost my damn mind. not beta read, so feel free to inform me of any mistakes i missed. P.S. i know the header isn’t debut yoongi, don’t fucking @ me about it!! i had this photo on hand ):

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k words

Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t.

As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world.

Things were so much easier when you—wrongfully—assumed he was an asshole. At least then, the arrangement was clear: you met him in the library, tried not to get annoyed at what a know-it-all he seemed to be for an hour, and then went back to your dorm with a slightly easier method of memorizing the circle of fifths under your belt. It went on like that for weeks. Quick and effective, mostly painless.

But then, when awkward small talk developed into genuine interest, you got to know him.

You learned that the reason he never takes notes in class is because he doesn’t have to. He taught himself all of the basics of music theory years ago, could’ve tested out and moved on to a more advanced class, but he wanted an easy A in his course load. You learned that he’s a classical piano major. He likes it just fine, but it’s really a means to an end. You learned that he writes his own raps, performs them at underground shows with a group of friends some weekends, that that’s what he really wants to do. You learned that he’s not an asshole and he’s just shy, that he’s been working up the courage to ask you out all semester.

You learned even more about him on your first date.

Such as: he’s the self-proclaimed master of grilling meat, and he’ll load up your plate for you before he even thinks of feeding himself. He may act like he’s not interested in going to the noraebang, but with just the slightest bit of insistence from you he’ll fold like a piece of paper. He thinks it’s cute when you snatch his snapback right off of his head and put it on your own. Even cuter when you fumble through a verse of Epik High’s ‘Love Love Love,’ squealing happily when he joins in.

And: he kisses like he’s got something to prove. Knows all the right ways to use his tongue. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat when you do something he likes. Isn’t the slightest bit shy about pulling you into his lap, nor about slipping his hand into your panties right there, Epik High forgotten in favor of making you cum around his skilled fingers.

So. Yeah.

Yoongi is no longer an effective tutor, because instead he is a fucking distraction.

You’re supposed to be studying. You had been studying, both of you putting up a valiant effort for a full hour and a half. But just as you’d gotten a firm grasp on the seven musical modes—Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, Locrian—-Yoongi was whining, insisting on taking a break. You tried to put up a fight, but you’re especially weak when Yoongi gets all sulky, soft pink lips pulled into a pout.

Notecards tossed aside, your fifteen minute study break quickly devolves into half an hour of making out on Yoongi’s bed. As soft music filters into his dorm room from his laptop, you lose track of time with his tongue sliding against yours, the occasional sting of his teeth on your bottom lip because he knows you like it. When you feel his erection pressed against your hip it quickly becomes very clear that you’re both done studying for the time being.

The way Yoongi kisses you never fails to make you crazy. His lips on yours are gentle but commanding at the same time, his hands in your hair holding your head exactly where he wants it as he licks into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls away, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hips rock up against his, desperate for friction.

“Baby,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. His hands slide down from your hair to gently tug at the waistband of your jeans, an index finger circling teasingly around the button. “Wanna eat you out. You want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, gasping when he nips at the underside of your jaw. Your voice is high, needy, foreign to your own ears. He’s good at that—at pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t know you could make.

He wastes no time in peeling your jeans down your legs, tossing them off the bed and out of his way. Yoongi likes to have as much space as possible when he eats you out, you’ve learned. He likes to take his time, spread you out as much as he can on his shitty dorm-provided twin size mattress. Just because he can make you cum in record time—and he can—doesn’t mean he likes to. Not when he’d much rather drag it out, savor you in every imaginable way until you can’t take it anymore.

You know you’re in for it when he doesn’t take your panties off right away. Instead, when he settles between your thighs, all he does is look for a moment, his gaze laser-focused on the growing wetness seeping through the cotton.

It lasts long enough that you start to squirm, his eyes flicking up to meet yours at the sudden movement.

“A-are you…?” you start, but you trail off, suddenly feeling way too fucking shy for something you’ve done with him more times than you can count at this point.

“Yeah,” he hums, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I’m getting to it, sweetness. I just wanted to look at you for a second. Is that okay?”

You shiver, swallowing thickly as you nod.

“You sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him. “You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you complain, sitting up for a moment to flick him on the forehead.

“Yah, so disrespectful,” he admonishes with a bite right where he’d just kissed. “I’m just playing. I know you don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I don’t,” you agree, suspicious. He’s up to something.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi hums knowingly, holding your gaze as he presses a kiss right to your clit. It makes your breath hitch, even with your panties subduing the feeling. “Because you love the way I eat this pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The answer is yes, of course. Yoongi always makes you feel so good no matter what he’s doing, but eating you out is definitely where he excels. But something about how cocky he’s being makes something stir inside of you—-makes you feel a little bold, a little mean.

“When you actually get around to it, yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hip. When he lifts his head his eyes are all pupil. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Maybe,” you say, goading.

He clicks his tongue, dipping down to lick a broad stripe over your pussy without any warning. When he reaches your clothed clit, he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, tearing a surprised moan from you.

“F-fuck!” Your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but the overwhelming pleasure is gone as quickly as it came.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi mumbles, sinking his teeth into the softness of your inner thigh again, harder this time. “Just wanted to take my time, treat you nice. But if you want it like this, fine.”

Mercifully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He roughly drags them down your legs until they’re thrown onto the floor, out of sight just like your jeans.

You gasp when his fingers instantly slide over your slippery cunt, making you gasp. “You get this wet just from pissing me off?” he scoffs, and you shake your head.

“N-no,” you whimper.

“No?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head at you with a smirk. You feel like you’re going to die when his fingers find your clit, rubbing in punishing little circles. “Tell me what gets you this wet, then, baby.”

“You!” you moan. It feels embarrassingly fast, but you’re close. You’re gonna cum before he even gets his mouth on you properly. Maybe that’s his goal. “You, fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “You gonna cum already, pretty girl? Before I even get to taste you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Motherfucker.

You wouldn’t be able to protest even if you wanted to, your brain already succumbing to the pleasant buzz of your impending orgasm. All you can do is squirm and rock up against Yoongi’s fingertips, completely at his mercy.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi continues, unbothered as you shake and moan in front of him. “I know you can give me another one. Go ahead, sweetness. Cum for me.”

Your release tears through you, sudden and intense and all-consuming. You’re sure there are words coming out of your mouth, but between the heat spreading through your body and the static buzzing in your ears, you honestly have no idea what they could be. Yoongi’s fingers keep rubbing at your abused clit until you’re trembling, gasping for breath between moans.

“Filthy girl,” he hums. Whatever you said must’ve been good, because he sounds almost proud of you as he runs his hands over your thighs. “You gonna let me take my time now?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still reeling from your orgasm. Yoongi taking his time is exactly what you need right now, or else you’ll go into complete overdrive. Absently, you think that was his plan all along, but that thought melts away as soon as Yoongi dips down and delves his tongue into your cunt, slow and thorough.

Your brain? Empty. Brain so fucking empty.

“Shit,” he groans against you, his voice so low and gravelly you can feel the vibration of his words against your pussy. “You always taste so fucking good after you cum for me.”

You thread your fingers through his hair again, moaning long and low as he spreads you apart with his thumbs and dives back in. His nose nudges just slightly against your clit as he licks into you, the barely-there contact making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yoongiiii,” you moan, earning an appreciative moan from him as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

Your first orgasm took you by surprise, but you can tell already that this one is going to be a slow burn, tendrils of heat that never really got a chance to fade spreading through your body, adagio.

As promised, Yoongi takes his sweet time. He sets an agonizing rhythm: licking into you, dragging his tongue up your pussy, gently sucking your clit into his mouth, over and over again until you’re practically a puddle on his mattress.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” you mewl, your thighs shaking around his head. You’d blush at the sounds he’s producing between your legs, slurping and sucking at you, if you weren’t so fucked out. Instead, all it does is turn you on even more, make you even wetter for him.

Yoongi pulls back, huffing a laugh through his nose. “I know, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “You ready to cum again?”

Wordlessly, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Two fingers tease at your entrance, getting nice and wet before Yoongi slides them in, and just like that, you’re ready to burst.

“Nnngh—fuck, ‘m so fucking close,” you slur, grasping at his hair as he pumps his fingers into you.

“Give it to me,” he says, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and making stars burst behind your eyelids.

His fingers curl just right, and then you’re moaning brokenly, bucking up against his fingers and mouth as you cum again.

It feels like it lasts forever. Yoongi moans around your clit as you clench around his fingers, squeezing tight tight tight as heat crashes over you in waves. You feel his fingers withdraw, and then his tongue is fucking into you again, licking every last drop he’s earned from you.

He only breaks away when you’re pushing at his head, overstimulated and spent.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he rumbles, climbing up the bed so he’s on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows. He’s one to talk. He always looks so good like this—swollen lips and dark eyes, the bottom half of his face slick from eating you out so fucking well. “You can just cum and cum for me, can’t you?”

“You are insane,” you breathe, grasping at the strings of his sweatshirt to pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

Yoongi chuckles, pulling away just to press his forehead against yours. “You like it,” he says.

“I like you,” you correct, closing your eyes. “Even though I’m going to fail my final because of you.”

That earns a real laugh from Yoongi, his nose scrunching. “You’re not gonna fail.”

“I am,” you say, nodding sagely. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“That so?” He presses another kiss to your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Besides, I’ll just find a better tutor next semester when I have to retake.”

That earns you a sharp jab of Yoongi’s fingers to your side, but he’s got one of those gummy smiles on his face as you squeal under him, so no harm done.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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saltnsugarbear · 2 days ago

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hey....its freakbob...

carmy's head lying over the edge of the bed, moaning around lip's cock as you ride him. lip likes pressing in deep, feeling carmen choke on him as he leans in to kiss you EVERYBODY CLAPPED!!!

or perhaps you and carmy in a 69 position, but instead lip is plowing into you from the back while carmen cranes his neck, alternating sucking your clit and lip's balls...or you and carmy making out with lip's cock between your lips WH000.00 SAID THAT???? ARREST THEM!!!!!

sigh

i fucking love you, by the way

word count: 1.2k whoopsies

content warnings: MDNI!! afab reader genitalia, vaginal penetration, oral (m receiving), cowpoke position, grinding,

To your surprise, Lip is the one that needs more convincing. Not that you are entirely surprised, but Carmy was more agreeable to the idea than you thought he would be.

You and Lip met Carmy through Richie.

Richie had made a scene when he first met Lip about him being Carmy. It was one of those bizarre moments you only saw online with celebrities that you could swear were the same person. Like Natalie Portman and Kiera Knightley, where they look so similar, you convince yourself they could be related.

Thankfully, the Gallagher and Berzatto family lines don't overlap at all. The three of you had been incredibly thorough in your search to ensure there were no relations. It took two outside opinions to convince Lip and four to convince Carmy. The original three look overs were enough for you, but the boys weren't as trusting as you were.

You knew Richie through Tiff, who you knew from high school. Tiffany had never mentioned Carmy when she met Lip the few times she had, and maybe she didn't think it was noteworthy. Maybe she didn't see it or didn't want to talk about her ex's family.

Nevertheless, Carmy was possibly the best introduction to your and Lip's lives.

The sharing took some getting used to for the both of them, surprising given neither one of them was an only child. But everyone has a learning curve.

At first, it was just petty bickering and possessive movements. Eventually, it all culminated into a snap of tension that was incredibly aggressive. What had originally started as a first fight somehow ended with you between both of them, hot mouths biting and kissing at your skin.

That was one of the few times you got to share a bed with them in that context. Which... Was fine. But you wanted more.

Not to say you didn't like when one of them would watch, either waiting for his turn or getting off by himself. But you wanted them to enjoy each other too. It didn't seem fair that only you got to enjoy both of them in a one-way transaction of all the affection.

You had noticed the more obvious lingering looks Carmy gave Lip after giving you a kiss goodbye or when Lip kissed your forehead when he said hello. Lip was a bit better at hiding his yearning, keeping lingering looks and touches to sporadic moments, always hiding it when no one's watching.

Maybe you shouldn't have been surprised Carmy agreed so easily....

Carmy was not only eager to please you, but to please Lip as well. You saw how he flourished under Lip's praise, preening for it whenever he could. Almost asking for it whenever he did something he thought Lip would like.

So, being used as a personal fleshlight seemed like the obvious thing for him to agree to. That and the fact you would be riding him, so he had some form of gratification.

Lip was a little more hesitant to the idea. He blew you off before coming back later and asking questions. Once you clearly explained and helped him figure out what he would be comfortable with, Lip agreed happily.

Which is how you ended up sitting on Carmy's lap, grinding like two teenagers in the middle of the bed. Lip waited by the doorway, watching you rub your bare cunt over the bulge of Carmy's boxer briefs. The stain of both your arousal is dark in the middle of the fabric. The moans and whines being made by both of you are being traded in your mouths like smoke.

When you reach down to the waistband of Carmy's underwear, Lip removes his own boxers. Carmy helps you shuffle his boxers down his thighs so his cock can fall back against his stomach. Settling yourself against his hips, letting him rest against you as you coax him to lie back.

Carmy is quick to listen, laying down until his head falls back against the edge of the bed. You can't help but watch as Lip walks to Carmy's side, bringing his hand to cradle his face. Carmy needs no prompting when Lip brushes his thumb over his lips and takes Lip's thumb into his mouth.

With Carmy distracted, you slip your hand around his length and lift your hips up before slowly sinking down. Carmy groans around Lip's thumb once you're fully seated on his cock, bucking up a little into you.

"Alright, bear.." Lip whispers, slipping his thumb out of his mouth. Carmy is eager to listen, opening his mouth wide as Lip positions himself in front of his mouth.

The sight of Lip slowly thrusting into Carmy's mouth makes you clench around Carmy. This results in a chain of Carmy groaning around Lip's length, his throat contracting around him and making Lip swear under his breath. One of Carmy's legs comes up, jostling you on his lap, so you have to rest your hands flat against his chest for support. The new angle is deep and has your clit drag delightfully against his happy trail.

The star of your show is watching Lip pull back out before thrusting in, watching the imprint in his throat each time. You almost forget your role in this agreement until Carmy is grabbing for your waist. At first, you think it's his way of telling you it's too much, but the three taps never come. Instead, he weakly lifts you up before sitting you back down.

When you don't get the hint the first time, you hear Carmy huff before lifting his other leg, planting his feet on the mattress so he can thrust up into you. Whatever noises you could have made are swallowed by Lip as he kisses you roughly, snapping his hips into Carmy's mouth.

The room is filled with the sound of whining and skin against skin. Carmy sneaks his hand between both of you, rubbing gently at your clit. You can tell Carmy is near his own end, the way his thrusting has become more sporadic, his length twitching inside of you.

You're panting heavily against Lip's mouth when you feel Carmy come inside you. With a few more tight circles of his thumb, you feel the tension in your stomach snap, walls clenching tightly around Carmy. With both of you satisfied, Lip wastes no time chasing his own release, bringing his hands to hold Carmy's head still as he thrusts into his mouth. Carmy's whining and groaning are audible even around Lip, making him grunt softly until he stills. You watch, catching your breath, as Lip grinds softly into Carmy's mouth before pulling out.

Carmy inhales sharply, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. Lip is just as disheveled, breathing heavily as he sits down on the edge of the bed, turning to kiss you quickly before settling back down.

What Carmy does next shocks you.

With Lip sitting on the edge of the bed, he's easier for Carmy to reach. His movements are jarring as he sits up and reaches for Lip's cheek. Carmy is quick to bring his mouth to Lip's, licking into his mouth. Lip grunts out of surprise before he groans at the taste on Carmy's tongue, quickly taking over the kiss. You watch, mouth agape, as Lip licks at Carmy's mouth as if he can't get enough.

It feels like they go on for hours before Carmy pulls away to catch his breath. Carmy looks dazed as he pants softly, turning back to look at you instead of Lip.

Lip pants heavily before he turns to face you with a cocky grin.

"You were right.. Was great.."

#saltnsugarbear #too much salt (18+)#cloak and dagger of it all [ anon ]#gallzatto #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #lip gallagher smut #gallzatto x reader #lip gallagher x you #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto x you #lip gallagehr x reader smut

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violenteconomics · 3 days ago

Text

remember this post i made about ace and epel (and eventually the other freshmen) pranking their upperclassmen?

yeah, so, here’s an idea for a significantly less funny prequel:

the first-years actually met their housewardens as kids, where they got very attached to one another, but absolutely none of them remember this.

i’ve got a drabble written for riddle, ace, and deuce, but for the others, i’m completely lost, lol.

(warning: mentions of child abuse)

4-year-old ace trappola, a pint-sized brat who loses a ball in dr rosehearts’s backyard. since dr rosehearts has an extremely sour reputation around town for being impossible to be polite with, ace decides it’s not worth the patience it’ll take to knock on her door. so instead, he climbs her fence to retrieve it.

that’s when he notices the boy sitting by the windowsill, with a thousand books stacked all around him, looking very intrigued at the book in his hands. ace has never seen someone so engrossed with a book that doesn’t even have a picture on the cover, and having absolutely no filter, even at that age, he simply walks up to him and asks what he’s doing.

at first, riddle tries to shoo him away, knowing how his mother will react when she finds out there’s a random kid stepping on her perfectly-cut grass. eventually, though, ace’s childish stubbornness wins out, and riddle tells him about the history book he’s reading.

[ace is alice and riddle is alice’s sister in this scenario in case you don’t get the reference, they make me insane, okay—]

everyday, ace comes back to the windowsill at the same time (at riddle’s request, because he only has so much independent study time) just to listen to him. everyday, he says that it’s stupid, boring, and he can’t believe riddle actually reads book without pictures. everyday, he comes back to sit under riddle’s windowsill and listen to him go on about food chemistry.

but then dr rosehearts finds out.

ace doesn’t really know what happens after she showed up to their doorstep, looking down on him like he was a bug underneath her heeled feet, but next thing he knows, his dad’s telling him and brother that they’re moving to a different town. he tells ace that their house just isn’t pretty enough, but ace is young— not stupid.

(in the future, whenever ace scores high on a test, and riddle will smile and tell him he’s proud of him. every single time, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth for reasons ace can’t explain.)

5-year-old deuce spade only knows ace as “the kid who moved out”, but through some wicked twist of fate, he’s the next person to lose something in dr roseheart’s backyard.

deuce’s mom actually used to work for dr rosehearts as her secretary, but deuce doesn’t really like her, because she used to make his mom work long hours with little pay in return. his mom lived in dr rosehearts’s medical practice more than she actually lived in the crappy apartment they could barely afford. he was so glad when she quit.

but unfortunately, dr rosehearts’s house is right next to the park, and losing balls in her garden is unfortunately very common for most kids in the neighborhood. and since deuce really doesn’t want to talk to her, he jumps over her fence instead.

this time, riddle’s the one who notices him.

riddle’s missing ace a lot (he never found out why he stopped coming around), so to fill the hole in his heart, he invited deuce over. sheepishly, deuce walks over and lets riddle tell him about the book on agricultural trade he’s been reading. deuce doesn’t quite get it as fast as ace did, but unlike ace, he’s patient and hard-working and oh-so earnest in his attempts to understand.

of course, dr rosehearts isn’t going to help this relationship in the slightest. a few weeks later, she waits for deuce right outside the fence, before dragging him off once he’s out of riddle’s view. she mocks his attempts at trying to learn something that’s clearly above his mental capacity, for trying to be someone above his station, for knowing the rules and being too stupid to stick to them.

(“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?”)

when she delivers deuce back to his house, his mother says nothing. when she tells him they’re moving to a bigger house on the complete other side of the queendom, deuce doesn’t argue.

(deuce couldn’t tell you why doing so bad in school frustrated him to the point of becoming a delinquent. he really couldn't.)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst first years #technically #ace trappola #deuce spade #riddle rosehearts #mrs rosehearts

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threepandas · 2 days ago

Text

Bad End: Actions Speak

"Be Silent."

Those were the first words commanded to me by the High Dragon Prince of the South. He did not want to hear me. Did not want to see me. To even be forced to endure, my obnoxious, insignificant, human presence. Any more then he absolutely had too. If it weren't for the fact that I had magic? He likely would have preferred to have me killed.

Just like the others.

I was a prisoner of war. One, which? I had no choice but to take part in. Had been drafted, by the humans. Only to be captured, by the dragons. All I had wanted? From my second chance at life? Was to live quietly. Study magic. Enjoy what I could not, before. Instead? I got warfare. Fear. The constant threat of death.

They needed me to open confidential human intelligence. Reverse engineer defenses and weapons. My safety and quality of life? Depended entirely on my compliance. And? If those reports and devices happened to be trapped to hell 'n back? By Mages FAR more skilled then myself?

Do it anyway. You are replaceable. Either you succeed... or you die.

You... hah... y-you really...

Really can say, I guess, n-now I know...? That...

That you really DO learn faster, under fire. Enduring pain curses. Fighting lethal curses, for your very life. Fire and drowning attacks. Lightning. Wind spells meant to choke the life of out of me, by sucking out all the air from my lungs. They... they really were creative, weren't they? My old colleagues.

Yes, sadistic, in ways I had never imagined. But also? Very, very creative.

I had the scars to prove it now.

All the while, as commanded, I did not talk. Did not DARE. Still do not. Even as I am shoved around. Dragged from tent to tent, building to building. Hurried along, like an inconvenience. A faulty, inefficient, piece of machinery, that dares eat their food and breathe their air. Slow and lagging, but sadly? Oh, sadly. They could not find better.

But I endure. Survive. I do not talk, so I can not offer. I give them nothing more then they demand. Malicious compliance. Nothing more, nothing less, then EXACTLY as you commanded, oh Wardens mine. My Keepers, foul and wretched. The holders of my chains. Someday... someday, this war will end. Or I will die, my luck running out, at long, long last.

And I?

I Will Be Free.

Once, long before this all, I had heard rumors. They say that talented humans, magically gifted humans, tended to be kept as glorified, pampered little pets, in the Vampiric lands. It... it sounds nice, now. To worry for nothing. To be protected. Adored and provided for, like some exquisite house cat, lounging in the sun. I could study again. Find someone nice.

....I worry.

You see, I... I think...

I may be breaking, around the edges of myself. Hairline fractures, born of stress. It's the isolation. Surrounded as I am. None of them are human, none of them will talk to me, at me. Anything at all. They follow the lead of their Prince. And he? Oh, he has made his distain for humanity clear.

Which begs the question. Why is he here?

Or rather, why am I? Dragged, from the ratty little cloth hovel they call "my tent", by the worn and patched to incoherence cloak I now wear, straight to the central command tent. Where the Prince is. The generals. The beating heart of the army itself. Dumped on the ground at his feet, I was fully expecting that to be it. That this would be the day.

They had found a better, less worn down, mage. A stronger one. A more obedient one. My services would no longer be... required.

I sat there. In the dirt. Eyes locked on his feet and waited. Palms splayed against the floor. Why bother fight? If I did THAT, they'd use me as "an example" for the NEXT mage. No. No, better to go quick. I had been reborn once. T-there was a possibility... however small... it... it might? Happen again?

Please, Gods. Please Gods, let it happen again.

But no. I was told, with judgment in his voice, by some general, to "get up". Ha! As though they were not directly responsible for my beaten down state. How dare. How DARE he judge me? I owed them nothing. Refused to die, in some short sighted tantrum of honor or pride.

I would LIVE, damn it. I MUST live. For how ever long I could. I wanted to be free again. To read and travel, do magic for magics sake. Never... NEVER see another dragon again.

Perhaps that was hateful. But damn it... I... I was so tired.

Nonetheless, I stood. Looked at no one and said nothing. Just an empty, ragged cloak with flesh inside. I am not here. I do not suffer. Unfocus your eyes and be far away. Yes, that's right, I tell myself, far... far away. It's like meditation. Just... ride the flow of magic. Do not call it. Merely observe. Let the colors drag you in. Be washed away. Far, far away.

I hear and do not hear, there. See and do not see. They can not touch me, can not hurt me, there is nothing and everything, in the Magics. It is... so... so BeAuTiFuL.

No wonder so many are lost. Drift and never come back.

I play a dangerous game, here.

But they can not hurt me.

No one can.

In here.

No answer comes then. But I am expected to work. Perhaps it is a show? Or they wish to verify, that I am indeed, doing what they keep me alive for. Nonetheless, I sit, in the corner, silent as I got to work. As old colleagues try to stop my heart, freeze my blood, rupture my organs. As burns roar over my skin and lightning crackles against canvas walls.

I do not scream. That would be too close to "speaking". I am not fool enough to give them an excuse. There is a belt I can bite. I use it often. Will have to salvage another, as this one is falling to pieces. That and a silencing spell? My screaming is muted.

Getting better at healing magic, I think. Either I have learned to numb the pain or I may have nerve damage. I doubt, now, that I will ever win awards. For my beauty. Too many scars. My arms are a wreck. My hands a travesty. It is nothing short of a miracle, that I have not LOST any fingers, to this.

Why am I here? Why? Why?

At least in my little hovel, I can curl up and weep. Emote. Can take breaks between bouts of pain and battles of magic. But here? Like a machine, stacks are dumped before me, and I am expected to perform. Do or die, human. We can always find another.

Through it all, haunting golden eyes watch. My pain, my exhaustion, all observed, giving away nothing, by that impassive royal face. I don't know what he WANTS.

Finally, after weeks of considering me, he decides to tell me. Comes to some conclusion, no input required. Why would it be? Of course. He is a High Prince. His power is great, his honor and name without equal. Why would he need MY input on anything.

"Did I know," he asked me, voice ponderous and musing, "That of all the mages his people have captured... I had lived the longest?"

I had not. But it did not suprise me.

He sat, considering me, splayed back in his chair like it was a throne, every bit the picture of a royal. A portrait of the man he was born to be. But the distain... the distain? Had... lessened. Not gone. Never gone. Gods, no. We peons were beneath him. Especially I, a mere human. But? Apparently I was not longer quite so wretched.

Our dear High Prince decided I should get a better tent. A new cloak. Actual medical supplies. What wonders.

It made me nervous. What cost, did these things come with? What expectation? Loyalty? I had offered none and never will. That would quickly become a problem. Still, I kept my head down. Always, always, keep your head down. Let the dragons die, for their stupid fucking war.

No longer replaceable. I discovered.

In the next big attack, as there was ALWAYS a next one, I wasn't evacuated last. As attacks fell. But FIRST, as the soilders were arriving. I was... was "essential personal". Shoved in an evac cart with the fancy strategists.

They started deliberately capturing mage supplies. Books and spell papers, chalks and high quality inks. Not just to disarm their opponents. Oh no. But to give to ME. I had... I had NEVER gotten supplies. The last time I had actually, truely, desperately, needed ink? I had been forced to use my own blood.

My hands actually shook. Touching such richs now. It overwhelmed, after so long, with nothing. I... I had healing books. Could actually look things up!

Curling up, before the piles of crates they dumped in front of my little tent, I didn't care, if they saw me cry. On my knees like an acolyte before the alter. Finally. FINALLY! Answers, armaments, and supplies. Relief, after so long? Was rain on desert sands. Burned skin left tender and screaming, to the cleansing mercy, of the softly weeping skies.

This, too, the High Prince saw.

No where to store them, of course. A gift given then taken away. Held just out of reach. Just long enough to give hope. All the better to torment you with it. Oh where we would we store, your useless little trinkets, human?

But I refuse to play the game. Fine. Take them. Take it all.

I need nothing.

Retreat into the Magics. They can not hurt me. I am not here. Far, far away. I am far, far away.

The High Prince, lounging and watchful, seems to have decided. No. The human things will go to him, actually, not to the fire. He watches with strange, considering eyes. In fact? I will make my self useful. Show my gratefulness. He is using valuable storage space on me, so I am to come before him and study. Prove it is worth it.

Is he not gracious? Now press your face to the dirt in thanks, human. Bow and scrape. Be glad, be honored, that your Liege is so kind.

He does not disagree, as they tell me these things. Why would he? They are his due. I think... I think I hate him. Hate them all. But the pull of books, of proper supplies, is simply too powerful. Back to that wretched tent I go. Under the staring eyes that dissect me so. Finally, I can heal my aching body.

He watchs me. As I study, improve, learn and grow. As old books are taken from me, shipped away somewhere, beyond my reaching, and new ones arrive. I desperately make notes. Hope those notes will be enough. Work and suffer and bleed. Somewhere, in the camp, I sense others.

The come and go. Bright lights that flare and then dim. Struggling and struggling, before finally going out. Some faster then others. The objects and messages they have me working on now? Are truely nasty. Again and again, I see the crests of Nobel houses and royal seals. How powerful, I wonder, have I become? Or is it simply... specialized?

A gift, for not dying.

Over the camp walls, I have begun to recognize the surroundings. The mountains and the valleys. The trees, in bloom. It seems wrong, that the world should be so beautiful, as everything is ending. The nation I grew up in, is falling. But... but we passed Heartriver two weeks back. And THAT? Was well within the border.

And from HERE... I can see the school.

The University of Magics. All I had ever wished, was to return. But... but not like this, never like this. I'm... gods. Oh Gods, I'm sorry. For my weakness. For not choosing to die. For not running at all, before it all began. I should have. But... but I was a coward. And now everyone else, must pay the price.

I stand outside my pathetic little tent and watch the horizon smoke. Burn.

Dragons are so very, very fond of fire.

Far away... j-just go far away... the Magic will always take you. Is always kind. Towards the tent I go. I remind myself, as I force myself to move, one step in front of the other? That if the worst comes to worst? I can just... Let Go. Go DEEP. So deep that no one and nothing can ever find me again. So far away, my body forgets I ever lived at all.

Just... just a soul. Floating along like a jellyfish, in the beautiful Allthings. The light and void, the far away and gone. I-It wouldn't even hurt. Just be like... like letting go of a balloon. I could be that balloon. Disappear into endless starlight...

But... BUT! I wont.. I can't! Not yet. Not until every other path has burned. Last resort. Only, ONLY, as a last resort.

(I refuse to acknowledge... how comforting the knowledge is. That I have a plan at all. A way out.)

Entering the tent, I head for "my table". At the High Prince' feet like a dog. A lovely little carpet, comfortable little pillows, a low table to work on. It would... honestly? It would be a lovely place setting. A delightful workstation. If it were not the context. The obvious, blatant, demeaning context.

Sit at his feet and behave. Be good and you're rewarded, be bad and you're punished. Brought little treats at HIS command? Sit on a pillow, on the floor, as they talk over your head? Ha ha... I? I half expected to one day show up to find someone holding a fucking collar.

If they fucking tried? I was going to set everything on FIRE. Even I, had limits.

However, it was just the Prince and I. Uncomfortable, but I could ignore him. Walking for my humiliating little seat, I noticed him watching me. Slowed. Why... why was he watching me? Awkwardly I paused. Did NOT want to be kneeling in front of a man that was staring that intently at me. Especially not so closely to a man, staring like that. The vibes were... off.

"Did you know, pet, that we actually have several rather old alliances amoung the Vampiric Royal Houses?" He said, breaking the strange silence.

'Pet, huh? Good to know he's at least fucking AWARE. I did NOT consent to that!' I seethe, in my head.

"It's been bothering me, you see. Your wretched state." He continues, completely unbothered that he might as well be talking to a statue. I stare, seethe, would give a limb at this point, to set him on fire. "You've suffered unbearably and I've done nothing to correct it, even though I could. We needed you for the war effort, you see, but now? Now, pet, we're nearly done. And I can finally care for you properly."

"Reward you, properly." The bastard says, calm and oh so reasonable, as though I had anything to do with him willingly.

"Honestly, it's long over due. The second I realized I wanted you as Mine, I should have stepped up to care for you properly. Officially. But, sadly, it would have been a conflict of interest. An abuse of power. Now, however? Now I can finally call on our allies for their support. Get you the medical assistance you so badly require."

A pleased smile stole across his face as he considered me.

"You'll make a lovely vampire. It was selfish of me, to cheat you of the years turning you sooner would have given you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me with time. Our people needed us. I can swear to you now, pet, you will forever remain my favorite, even if I take a Queen."

Horror was like a gut punch, deliver by a fighter jet. I felt immediately and intensely sick. W-what? Frozen so completely I nearly forgot to breathe, I looked for ANY sign he may be joking. Exaggerating. But... but no. W-WHAT?? How. WHEN? At what point, in my torment? In my UTTER SILENCE? Did this man "fall in love"?!

H-How can you LOVE a women you've never-?! No. No, I KNEW how.

You decide you like the IDEA of them. The shape of their body. You project onto them your OWN narrative and decide it is a love story. Fuck. FUCK!! I was... this was... no no NO! I REFUSED. Like HELL was I could to live, trapped for DECADES if not CENTURIES, the pretty little war bride of a tyrant!

The High Prince gets up and walkes towards me. Sweeps me into terrifyingly powerful arms. When he smiles? There are fangs. Deadly and hardly the comfort he thinks they are. We are a laughable contrast. Richs and rags, power and prisoner, royal and the woman who might just burn the world to escape. Shit. SHIT. I was scared of him before.

And that's BEFORE he decided he loved me.

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #powerful yandere #power imbalance #trapped reader #tw sui ideation #she IS trapped n not cool with that #pow reader #tw power imbalance #tw pow #tw war mention #yandere dragon #royal yandere #entitled asshole yandere #bad end actions speak #bad end actions speak au

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coco-loco-nut · 3 days ago

Text

High Flyer - Part Two

pairing: charles x reader

summary: no spoilers 🤭

masterlist part one requests open

—————————

You stayed a week extra in Abu Dhabi, not needing to return to Maranello quite yet. You could say that the allure of Ferrari World was too much, and Carlos talked it up to you. It was perfectly silly and probably the best second date you ever had.

The photos of you and Charles post-race were popular among fans, trying to figure out who he is. Then the video dropped, and you found yourself trending in the community once more.

“They are just as fascinated with you as I am,” Charles has said over a video call when talking about it shortly after becoming official.

It takes a lot for you to make the relationship work, strictly timed video calls, staying positive during the periods of time when you don’t get to talk to him, even sending letters back and forth. Somehow it works for you, and you cherish the moments when you get to talk face to face.

The glittering Monaco harbor is behind you as you put your earring in, preparing for the prize giving ceremony. Thankfully it’s not far from your apartment, and you only have to be there for your second place award. You hear a knock on your door and grab your phone, just in case it’s a crazy fan who snuck past the door guards.

“Charles?” you gasp, looking at the man in a suit in front of you, a small suitcase in tow.

“Bonsoir, ma cherie. I heard you are in need of a date tonight?” he smiles as you practically throw yourself on him. Charles holds you tight, savoring the moment.

“How are you here?” you ask in disbelief, the shock distracting you from how good he looks in his dress uniform.

“I got a couple days off. Max helped coordinate the surprise,” Charles reveals, your neighbor and friend pulling through for you.

“I’m so glad you are here,” you catch him off guard by pressing a kiss to his lips, melting into his arms.

“I’m glad I am here too, you look beautiful, and I’ve missed you so much,” he says softly, taking in your Ferrari red dress that fits you perfectly.

“I missed you too, this is much nicer than a video call,” you sigh, not wanting to step out of his embrace, fearing that if you do he will disappear. You know that his assignment is almost up, but you learned that ‘almost up’ means a year.

“I know, but I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I get to celebrate my incredibly talented girlfriend,” he pulls back slightly, aware of the time and that you need to leave soon.

“What if we just don’t go and stay in?” you suggest. Any desire to go flew out the window when you opened your front door.

“No, we will go, you will give your speech, and then as soon as it’s over we can leave. You have me for a couple more days,” Charles kisses you once more, not really helping the whole wanting to stay thing.

You rarely lose physical contact with him on the way over to the ceremony, whether it’s holding his hand, his hand on your waist or leg, or you holding his arm.

“Don’t you two look happy,” Max smiles, proud of himself for the surprise. You and Charles make for a much better looking pair than the fan ship of you and Max. Not to mention, Max is like your brother.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you quickly hug Max. Charles shakes Max’s hand after.

“You may have chosen the most boring event to make your first appearance as a couple at,” Max chuckles, leading the two of you to the bar.

“Well, they wouldn’t let me skip it,” you grumble.

“What are you grumbling about?” Carlos approaches your small group.

“That she couldn’t skip this,” Max says before you can reply. Charles squeezes your hand as you roll your eyes at Max. You take a glass of wine, needing something other than champagne.

“And miss a chance to show off her new boyfriend? I doubt it. Aren’t you glad that the PR team chose me to go to Ferrari World instead of you?” Carlos smiles, knowing that he’s right.

“No,” you lie, “I had to pay to go myself after the race. Charles was the only good part about the media duties,” you slightly lean into your boyfriend.

“Sure. We can both go to the amusement park next year and I’ll pay,” Carlos chuckles, grabbing his drink from the bar.

“Let’s find our seats?” Charles suggests, kissing the side of your head. You quickly find your table, Fred already there to represent the team in the Constructors Championship.

“My sometimes favorite drivers,” Fred jovially greets you and Carlos as if he didn’t see you in Maranello a week ago for a sim session.

The ceremony drags on, you take every opportunity to converse with Charles and your table, but you are subject to hours of awards and speeches. When the night is finally over, you turn down every afterparty invitation thrown your way.

“I am not going to place in the top three next year,” you groan as you slide your heels off. Charles is immediately drawn to the piano that sits in your living room.

“Do you play?” he asks, looking natural behind the keys.

“Not well or often enough, the former renter left it here. I keep it maintained though,” you hum, sitting beside him gently. Charles runs his fingers across the ivory keys, trying to recall a song.

“Well then, let me to the honors,” he smiles, fingers pressing down, easily gliding up and down the keyboard.

“That was incredible, you are incredible,” you say softly afterwards, you’ve never been serenaded before and it’s a turn on.

Charles leans in, capturing you in a kiss. His large, calloused hand rough against your cheek. When you pull away, you lead him to your bedroom, craving all the contact that you missed since you last saw him physically.

The air is charged as he unzips your dress, fingers brushing your bare skin sensually, making you arc into him. Charles brushes your hair off your shoulder and neck, pressing featherlight kisses to the area. Your breaths are shallow, breathless from everything.

“Charles,” you whisper, his name like a prayer on your lips, asking for anything and everything.

“Let me take care of you, ma reine,” he replies, nudging you back towards the bed as your red dress slides off your body. You hands slide up his chest, pausing to push off his suit jacket before they rest on his neck and in his hair.

After a long night, you spend the morning rotting in bed. Charles holds you close as you talk about anything and everything. You take him out on your yacht later in the day, a nice change of scenery.

“I don’t want you to leave tomorrow,” you admit as the sea breeze pushes your hair around.

“I don’t want to either, but I’ve been reassigned to southern France. I’ll get to see you more often,” Charles reminds you. You nod, fighting any tears back at the thought of separating again.

“I know, I just love you,” you bittersweetly smile, a pang in your heart as he pulls you close.

“And I love you,” he says softly, savoring the feeling of your embrace.

You see him a few more times before pre-season testing, visiting him off base and vice versa. The visits were short but worth every moment. Charles calls you when you are leaving dinner after the first day of testing.

“Mon amour, how was testing?” he asks, sweaty from a flight.

“My body is sore, but it was good. I just had dinner with my kids,” you smile, a small pack of drivers behind you.

“Oh, Oscar and Logan are there? Tell yhem hello for me,” Charles smiles.

“Hi Dad, Logan isn’t here,” Oscar smiles, popping into the frame and stealing your phone. You carried the loss of your son deeply, but you don’t blame Charles for forgetting that Logan wasn’t on the grid anymore since you said you were with multiple grid kids.

“You haven’t told him?” Ollie asks, large brown eyes looking sad at his exclusion.

“I just adopted you, kiddo. It’s hard to break the news that he’s now a father to twins and a grandfather,” you laugh, pulling Ollie into a hug. It didn’t take you long to adopt more grid kids, in fact as soon as you got to the paddock Ollie and Kimi came up to you calling you mom. It’s like the cat distribution system. Oscar adopted the new Australian on the grid, citing the Alpine connection, meaning you are a grid grandma. Oscar comes back to you and hands your phone to you.

“We are grandparents?” Charles asks, a little bewildered.

“Yes, funnily enough our grandchild was born at the same time as our twins,”

“Twins?”

“Hi Dad!” Ollie and Kimi say at the same time when you turn the phone to them.

“Hello?” Charles is confused but he does love how you take in the rookies and make them feel at home.

“Sorry, Charles, why don’t I call you when I get back to my hotel?” you smile apologetically, wanting to have time for both of you.

“Of course, call me when you get back,” Charles agrees, no trace of disappointment in his voice. He doesn’t have much to share about his day, especially since he doesn’t have a scheduled flight for a while. Charles watches as the call ends, thankful that he didn’t spoil his surprise.

Testing passes and suddenly it’s the first race of the season. You walk into the paddock, your brood with you. You, Ollie, and Kimi are deep in conversation, confusing Oscar and Jack a bit as you speak in Italian. You’ve already had movie nights that ended with them strewn across your hotel room, and you just know that they will be in and out of your room this season. F1TV already caught Ollie leaning against you taking a nap as you hugged him last season, and they captured Kimi doing something similar during testing.

“Papà,” Kimi says suddenly and you furrow your brows. Jack taps your shoulder and points ahead. Your smile grows as you notice Charles standing ahead, waiting for you. You take off, practically jumping into his arms.

“You’re here,” you grin, barely waiting to kiss him.

“I had to fulfill my WAG duties and meet our children,” he smiles, not letting you out of the hug yet. He utilized his brother Arthur, your reserve driver, to get a pass. Your face was priceless when you first connected the two, it was quite funny how long it took. Apparently sharing a last name and resemblance wasn’t enough until he mentioned it on the phone shortly after Abu Dhabi.

“Get a room,” Oscar makes a face that causes both of you to laugh.

“Oh we will,” you lean into your boyfriend, content to never leave.

“Ewww,” Ollie gags, disgusted at the idea. You and Charles laugh, like proud parents embarrassing your kids.

“That’s Ollie, this is Kimi, our grandson Jack, and you know Oscar,” you point to each boy.

“Nice to meet you all officially,” Charles smiles as he keeps an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Alright kiddos, time for you all to get to your teams. Drive safely,” you part ways with them, itching to get to Ferrari for some private time. Charles insists on getting a coffee before going to your drivers room, and the two of you barely get a second alone before there is a knock on your door. You pull away from Charles, irritation laced in your voice. “I just got here, go away,” you call out before pulling your boyfriend back in.

“I know you are hiding my brother from me,” Arthur’s voice responds causing you to pull away, a slight pout on your lips. Charles quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he gets up to open the door. Arthur struts in, sitting between you and Charles. You did have the chance to spend time with the Leclercs in their home.

“You know, brother, if you wanted to get with Y/n earlier, you should’ve just asked me. You are lucky I suggested that the media team send her instead of Carlos,” Arthur says and you gasp.

“YOU ARE THE REASON HE GOT FERRARI WORLD INSTEAD?” you practically yell, causing Charles to stifle a laugh. You aren’t mad, well you are but in more of a joking way, sorta.

“She really did not like flying,” Charles clarifies, stretching an arm behind Arthur to play with your hair, a comforting touch.

“At least you met eachother?” Arthur suggests sheepishly.

“He was going to be at the race anyway,” you narrow your eyes.

“You trauma bonded?” Arthur suggests again and your eyes light up.

“Have you ever seen the video of Charles during his hot laps?” you ask, wickedly smiling. Charles looks at you, a mix of panic and curiosity in his eyes.

“No, show me!”

“Nope. That blackmail belongs to me, since you so kindly took away my fun,” you shake your head, locking your phone. Charles lets out a breath of relief, he trusts you completely, but he was worried for a second.

“You’re no fun. You never even adopted me into your grid family,” Arthur pouts as you and Charles lock eyes, shared amusement between you.

“Arthur, why would she adopt you? You are my brother,”

“I don’t know, because she’s the most sought after grid parent. Plus, it’s not like you two are engaged,” Arthur says and you flush with embarrassment and flattery.

“Arthur, you are basically my brother, you don’t need to be my grid kid. You are on the same level as Charles and Carlos,” you are starting to feel like a parent describing something to a young kid.

“I guess that is better. You better mention that when making a family tree video,” Arthur concedes.

“Why don’t we go out for dinner after the second practice session?” Charles suggests, hoping to kill some of the awkwardness.

“I think that’s a great idea. Speaking of, I should start getting ready,” you catch Charles’ unspoken message, hoping to get Arthur out of your room.

“Right, I should do my job too,” Arthur stands up, half expecting Charles to follow, but isn’t surprised when he stays. They can catch up while you drive.

“Finally a moment alone,” Charles grins moving closer to you.

“I wasn’t lying, I do need to get ready,” you say between kisses.

“You need to undress first, and I can help with that,” Charles murmurs against your lips as his hands slide underneath your shirt.

“We are working on limited time,” you point out, brain fogging.

“We go fast for a living, we can do it,” you were a few minutes late for your prep meeting. Arthur gave you a weird look, one that told you he knew what you were up to.

Both Charles and Arthur were glad to have the weekend together, spending time as a family while you raced. Before you knew it, Charles was kissing you goodbye at the airport as you both went to your next stops. His France and yours Saudi Arabia.

What you didn’t expect was Arthur banging on your driver room door as you are prepping.

“I’m in, I’m driving,” Arthur seems to be freaking out a little bit as you let him in, dressed in a Ferrari suit.

“Carlos is out?”

“He’s in the hospital getting surgery. I’m driving a Formula One car,” you process it beside him, remaining much more calm than Arthur.

“Did you call your mom?” you ask, knowing the answer is likely no since he would’ve been in team meetings since he found out. Arthur shakes his head no, so you squeeze his shoulder and grab your phone.

“Y/n, what a surprise. Is everything okay?” Pascale’s voice rings out over the phone.

“I’m sending a jet to you right now, and I’ll send the flight details in a bit. Arthur will drive his first F1 race and you should be here,” you tell her over speaker phone, working everything out starting with the flights.

“Is Arthur with you?” she asks as Arthur peers over your shoulder.

“Hello Maman,” you tune out their conversation as you send her the jet details and start working on hotel rooms for her, Lorenzo, and Charlotte as well as paddock passes. You only really get out of your planning zone when Arthur grabs your phone to hang up and hug you.

“You okay?” you finally ask, knowing he is probably emotionally drained already.

“I can’t wait for you to officially be my sister, and I can’t wait to drive alongside you this weekend,” Arthur says, you gently rub his back to ground him.

“You will do a great job. Let’s get through free practice three and then we can talk about some tricks to make it work for you,” you stand up, grabbing your gear to head to the garage.

You try to help him out as the team gets him adjusted and tested for approval, but you have your own driving to worry about too. It’s very clear to the team that you are looking out for Arthur and want to help him learn the ropes. But when it’s time to get into the car, he is own his own. You do well in your program running, but check in on Arthur periodically via your engineer.

Arthur qualifies well for a rookie, and you start the race second row at P3. He is the first person to greet you in Ferrari after you return from the media gauntlet.

“Congrats on P3,” Arthur smiles, showered and ready to go back to the hotel.

“Thanks! You did pretty well for your first time. Give me like 20 minutes to shower, yeah?” you ask, ready to get some sleep.

“Thanks again for helping me get through today, I see why everyone wants you as their grid mom,” Arthur says, not protesting when you hug him.

“Of course, I want you to succeed,” you reply, excited to see his reaction when his family is waiting at the hotel for him. The team covered their hotel rooms since you booked flights before they could.

“I can’t wait for you to be my actual sister one day,” Arthur yawns, your face Ferrari red at the thought. Of course you thought about it, but having him say it is different, it’s more real.

“Maybe one day,” you say, sliding into your chauffeured car. Arthur gets in beside you, and finds himself as your pillow. You accidentally fell asleep as the car left the circuit. Arthur takes a selfie and sends it to his family group chat as your soft snores fill the car. He scrolls on instagram, killing the rest of the time on the drive, when he sees an edit that the F1 account posted. It is the free practice three timesheet with your last name changed to Leclerc. He sends it to you, knowing you wouldn’t want to be awakened for it even if it is funny.

“Y/n,” Arthur pokes you as you arrive at the hotel.

“Hmm, sorry. You should’ve woke me up once I fell asleep, you don’t have to be my pillow,” you yawn, slightly stretching before getting out of the car.

“Maman,” Arthur hugs Pascale, who is patiently waiting at the entrance for him.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says before stopping you from slipping past. Not that you were going to avoid her, you just assumed she would want privacy with Arthur. “And you, thank you for today. You are a part of this family,” she wraps you in a hug, making sure you know how much your effort was appreciated.

“Of course, you couldn’t miss Arthur’s first race. I’ll let you guys catch up,” you smile, hugging her one last time.

“Can’t have you falling asleep again,” Arthur teases, your smile deceives your joking irritation.

“You won’t let me live that down, will you?” you say, shaking your head. “I will see you in the morning for breakfast,” you bid them goodnight, ready to collapse in the plush hotel bed.

It’s a sight to see, you walking into the paddock with the Leclerc’s (minus Charles) behind you. It’s clear to fans that you have been easily incorporated into the family. Charles watches from afar, having the day off from officer duties. He sends a couple texts, wishing you luck and a few memes from fans based on the post made by F1. You reply when you can, but it’s sporadic.

“Ready to lose?” Max asks you during the drivers parade.

“I should ask you the same. But if it means I don’t have to sit through prize giving again, then yes I am ready to lose,”

“It’s not that bad,”

“You won your third championship, you are used to it. Plus, you hate those events more than me, don’t lie,” you laugh.

“Alright, that is fair,” Max relents. He ends up winning, but you climbed a position and took P2. You won’t hear the Italian anthem this week, but you sing it in your head on the podium as you get your trophy. The teams energy is infectious, even for P2. Arthur meets you in the motorhome, holding a phone to your face.

“Congrats, mon amour,” Charles says, a proud smile on his face.

“I drove okay, Arthur drove well though! Points in his first race,” you smile, accepting hugs from Lorenzo and Charlotte. Pascale stole Arthur’s phone, taking Charles away from you.

“Any recommendations for dinner?” Lorenzo asks, ready to celebrate.

“A few. Will you two come out tonight to celebrate?” you ask, adjusting the suit that hangs at your waist.

“Someone has to stay with Pascale, but I know Arthur will party tonight,” Charlotte politely turns down the offer.

“I will, I heard Max always sets up good parties,” Arthur is excited to celebrate with the grid.

“Expensive parties, you are lucky I’m picking up the tab for you,” you laugh, Arthur’s phone being placed in your hand.

“You look tired, call me when you get to your room,” Charles smiles sympathetically.

“Will do, love you,” you smile back, handing the phone to Arthur as you make your way to your driver room. True to your word, you call him once you shower and change. It takes another twenty minutes on the phone for Arthur to bang down your door, reminding you that you have a family dinner to get to.

“Enjoy dinner, I love you,” Charles says before hanging up.

The season flys after that, especially when Ferrari begins to get very competitive again, putting more pressure on you and Carlos.

Charles got leave approved to go with you to the prize giving, both of you deciding to make a mini vacation out of it. The night before, you go to a small Parisian restaurant for an early dinner then a sunset walk along the Seine.

“What was your favorite part of the season?” Charles asks, wrapping an arm around you.

“Hmm, maybe winning Miami, or finally getting more consistent at the end of the season. The PR team would want me to say the trip in Abu Dahbi they arraigned for Carlos and I since I publicly complained that only he went to the Ferrari World last year,” you ponder the question, not having thought about it. You and Carlos had a blast, and it made both of you think of taking trips to amusement parks during winter break. “What was yours?”

“That graphic of you with my last name,” Charles reveals with a smile, he still makes you blush like a schoolgirl.

“That was a good choice,” you see something on the other side of the river and take a step away to get a close look.

You turn towards him to point it out and that’s when you find him on one knee.

“I’ve been waiting since the start of the season to ask you this. I knew during testing that you were the one and that I would marry you, then when everything in Saudi Arabia happened, it confirmed it more. You are my everything, and my forever. Will you marry me?” Charles asks, watching you tearfully nod.

“Yes,” you nod, watching him slide on the ring. Charles is beaming as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Forever,” you whisper your promise against his lips.

“What if we get married tonight?” Charles asks, the thought springing into his mind.

“Tonight? Why not,” you grin, a rush of adrenaline going through you.

“We will have to wait for the paperwork, but I’m sure we can find a priest,” Charles kisses you, as he mentally plans it.

“Let’s find the nearest church, maybe the priest is a Ferrari fan,” you wink. The priest was, and was more than happy to marry you despite no wedding certificate. Your families were ecstatic, especially when you both promised to have a formal wedding during summer break.

instagram

y/n_leclerc husband appreciation post 🥰❤️

comments are limited

carlossainz55 when did this happen???? we are discussing this tomorrow at prize giving (congrats i guess?)

y/n_leclerc we will tell you everything then!

charlesleclerc Je t'aimerais pour l'éternité ❤️

y/n_leclerc pour l’éternité❤️

arthurleclerc getting engaged and married on the same day is so you coded, proud to be your brother

charlesleclerc we will celebrate when we get home

y/n_leclerc proud to have you as my unofficial official brother 🫶

scuderiaferrari congrats! (admin is sad that we weren’t invited)

maxverstappen1 👍

y/n_leclerc 👍

oscarpiastri no invite 😭 congrats mom and dad

jackdoohan ^ getting eloped 🙅‍♂️ cool

olliebearman ^ he finally did it though!

kimiantonielli ^ i guess sometimes your soulmate isn’t a car

y/n_leclerc you all are grounded

logansargeant congrats! come visit soon!

y/n_leclerc we will try! you are welcome here anytime too 🫶

f1 we so manifested this in Saudi Arabia 👀

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader

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bellelikesmcyt · 1 day ago

Note

Shubble: Complains that she had to pay once for one of Wilbur’s meals. Proceeds to ask him to pay her shit so she could visit him. Wilbur visits her out of his own pocket multiple times.

Shubble: says she acted like everything was fine in front of their friends. Did not provide any realistic reason for why she would do so aside from her own desire and likely also acted so with Wilbur too. Explains why he didn’t know that she felt this way.

Shubble: refuses to talk to Wilbur to ask him to stop and refuses to set her own boundaries. Wilbur gives her a safe word and thus the power to decide when he should stop. Shubble uses it at the last possible moment.

Wilbur: has depression from his friend dying and his overworked from his streaming life and his upcoming tour. Shubble refuses to try and get others to help. Let’s him waste away and chooses to try and make herself comfortable.

Shubble: says Wilbur most likely didn’t know that she was cleaning her a bathroom for her to use. Blames him for not paying her back.

Shubble: calls Wilbur a money grabbing master manipulator. Wilbur repeatedly spent his money on others, tried to make things cheaper for fans, could not stream because he was working with his band and trying to maintain his friendships while going to therapy. Refused to pump out songs, instead wanted to give fans music worthy of their attention. Scrapped projects because he didn’t like how end up. Wilbur has not done anything blatantly manipulative. Billzo and Freddie are not reliable witnesses here, Billzo is jerk (cuffed Wilbur to the point of panicking, had problems with Wilbur afterwards. got Tommy high without his consent, laughs about it, looks back on it fondly) Freddie was SA’d recently and is a old friend of Tommy. Would likely have been panicked and worried for his friend and looked to back into his memories believing he missed it.

Shubble: blames Wilbur for saying he doesn’t want kids right now. She’s dated him for less then a year. Who wouldn’t especially when his music career is taking off.

Shubble: refuses to talk to Wilbur about their relationship and issues. Wilbur tires to fix things himself even though he clear needs help both with himself and with their relationship problems. Shubble gets annoyed with Wilbur when he tries to bring up the problems in their relationship to fix them.

Shubble: says Wilbur purposefully hurt her when consensually biting. Says she screamed the safe word, refuses to see she likely surprised him. Especially if he wasn’t expecting it. Likely meaning she had allowed Wilbur to bite her hard before to the point he was used to it. Explaining his delay and biting down after she says it.

Shubble: claims he would bite hard enough to bruise her and that he bite her in front of others. Shubble has admitted that she bruises rather easily. No one has come forward to confirm these. People have said they hadn’t seen anything.

Shubble: failed to communicate with her boyfriend. Claims she wanted to “fix” him. Says his attempts to fix their problems is manipulative. Wants to force a family on him. Only asks others for information on him and not help as she claims she needed. Exposes his personal life and private information. Attacks him on a low point in his life, she wanted to hurt him. Shubble refused for her failures in the relationship and blames him for not knowing how. When her merch provider went bankrupt, she waited until people started blaming her before she addressed it, claiming ignorance.

Shubble: likely jealous of Wilbur. She had been on YouTube and streaming for years yet only ever got a small audience. She was beginning her decline and Wilbur was still rising when she came out with allegations against him. During a point where she knew he wouldn’t have been able to respond properly. She was failing and he was succeeding, in her mind she likely felt she should be the one whose successful, that she put in the time and effort, not some damaged man who can barely take care of himself.

Shubble: lives a lavish lifestyle and complains about not having money, she likely expected Wilbur to spend money like she does and was surprised when Wilbur was more hesitant to pay for her wants as she was incapable of saving money.

Shubble: claims he love bombed her. He was likely just happy he was dating someone he’s had a crush on for a while, was also trying to meet her needs despite it not being how he shows his affection and he is also an introvert so he was incapable of worshipping her like she wanted. Her whole reaction to finding out Wilbur likes her, both while live and on X. She likely expects to be fawned over. Mind you she was still dating someone when she found out.

Wilbur: has poor mental. Likely expects things to be his fault. (Overheard his mother say she regrets having him when he was younger. His first ex blamed him for her cheating. Wilbur proceeds to blame himself.) Wilbur ties to fix the problems in their relationship as Shubble doesn’t want to.

Shubble comes off as manipulative, she lets others suffer and only intervenes when it starts to affect her. And even then she will only do it to help herself. She refuses to believe she can do anything wrong and blames others for her own problems, actions, and failures. She expects to be the center of attention that everyone should hear her and treat her as supreme.

Wilbur on the other hand tried to meet her needs. He tried to fix their problems even when she refused to give him anything besides acting like he’s inconveniencing her. He was likely in the busiest and most stressful part of his life in the latter half of their relationship. Having to put his own health last to deal with everything else that he couldn’t put off. He had existing problems that she added on to, refused to help him with and acted like she was trying to fix him.

ANON YOU FUCKING ATE

don’t feel the need to identify yourself but this is the fucking best thing i’ve ever seen

#wilbur support squad #fuck shubble #belle is rambling #wss #wilbursoot #wilbur soot support #wilbur soot #lovejoy

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celli-ohs · 11 hours ago

Text

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

before you read: character profiles

warnings: language, cooties, wild subplot, loser enhypen

word count: 3.78k

taglist (open): @ancnymcnzjy

note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Log 3: Wednesday - March 6th, 2024

The blaring screams of his alarm clock has Sunghoon jolting from his sleep. “Oh my god,” He gasps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It was all just a dream!” He says relieved.

Jumping out of bed, he hurriedly gets ready for the day. Once clean and changed, he walks to the kitchen, opening a packet of natto to indulge in.

“Yeji! Don’t forget to comb your hair,” He hears his mother scold as she enters the kitchen. “Oh, Sunghoon, you’re up?” She sounds confused.

“Yeah, I’m walking with the guys, just like every morning.” He shrugs her off. She doesn’t say much after that, only rushing his little sister around the house, helping her get ready.

“I’m off, see you later.” Sunghoon waves goodbye as he heads out. “Have a good day!” His mother smiles.

“He’s having a good morning for someone who locked himself in his room last night.” Yeji grumbles. “Your brother is… a teenager Yeji, let him be.” Her mother tries to keep a positive mindset.

“Will I be like that when I’m a teenager?” Yeji asks, looking worried.

“You better not, your brother is enough trouble as it is.”

In the past ten minutes no one has said a single word. Sunghoon can’t seem to figure out why though, his eyes searching for the answer.

Finally, Jungwon clears his throat. “Sunoo,” He calls out. “How did your audition go? For the theater club?”

The other boy suddenly sighs. “You won’t believe it- they rejected me!” Jaeyun looks completely shocked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I know! And then they had the audacity to ask me if I could instead be a prop decorator when I’m meant to be on stage!” Sunoo groans.

“That’s mean,” Heeseung frowns. (He keeps popping up out of nowhere, he’s like a ninja, it’s starting to actually scare Sunghoon).

“But then something happened on my walk home,” Sunoo hums, rummaging through his pocket. “Some guy stopped me when I was getting ice cream, he said to call him and I could become an idol!” Sunoo flashes the fancy business card in front of all his friends.

“Is that real?” Riki swipes it, observing both sides of the cardstock. The card gets passed around, and everyone gets a good look before it’s returned to Sunoo.

"Belift Lab? What kind of stupid company name is that?" Jungwon scoffs as he reads the card.

“Do you guys think I should do it? Being an idol sounds fun.” Sunoo smiles. That is until Jaeyun shakes his head. “Sure yeah you’re famous, but don’t you want to be an actor? That’s pretty different.”

“True, you could be training for years before you debut, or maybe you don’t debut at all,” Jungwon adds.

“Riki A’s older brother almost became an idol, he says he trained for like almost 3 years.” Riki comments.

“Oh gross, I think I’ll just stick to acting.” Sunoo tosses the card into a nearby trash can.

“Was he from a good company?” Sunghoon asks. Sunoo shrugs. “Don’t know, I've never heard of them.”

“Sounds sketchy, probably good you didn’t say yes.” Jungwon agrees.

As the six of them continue on their walk to school, there’s the familiar sound of a thud behind them, causing them all to turn.

“Fuck, I got my pants dirty,” Jongseong grumbles as he stands up, dusting himself off. “You’re late,” Sunghoon teases, making the other boy roll his eyes. “I’m early actually, and I have been this whole week.” Jongseong argues.

“It’s only Wednesday.” Sunoo points out to him. This has Sunghoon confused. “What do you mean? It’s only Tuesday.”

The boys all stop, turning to Sunghoon with crazed expressions. “Sunghoon, it’s Wednesday,” Jaeyun shows his calendar on his phone.

He takes a closer look, stepping forward. Right there on Jaeyun’s screen it lists the date: Wednesday, March 6th.

“No.” Sunghoon stumbles over his words. He looks up at his friends. “That means yesterday-” He chokes up.

“Dude are you high?” Riki asks, concerned. “Do you not remember what happened yesterday?”

Yesterday. Tuesday. March 5th.

He went to school, and then he went home. Yeah. No. Maybe?

Because then that would mean that what happened wasn’t a dream-

“You left home early, remember? Actually you ran out, Jaeyun had to drop your stuff off.” Jungwon clarifies, and suddenly everything clicks.

After humiliating himself in front of you and his entire class, Sunghoon didn’t even think about dashing out of the classroom. To be honest, he just kept running, past his homeroom, past the front doors, and right out the school gates down the street.

“Sunghoon!” Jaeyun shakes him by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t respond, brain shutting down.

Sunghoon has to be wrestled into his seat. Jaeyun and Jongseong hold him down, trying to convince him to apologize to you.

“Just say you’re sorry,” Jongseong holds him firmly down by the shoulder. “Yeah! I’m sure she’ll understand.” Jaeyun tries to stay positive.

“Please, please just let me go. You guys are my friends, can’t you just-” “We’re doing this because we’re your friends you idiot.” Jongseong argues.

Sunghoon tries to argue, but is swiftly shut up when Jaeyun suddenly announces your arrival.

“Hi Y/n! You’re looking nice today.” Jaeyun sounds overly enthusiastic as he compliments you, his arms are not so subtly trying to get Sunghoon to turn your way.

“Hey Jaeyun,” You sound unsure as you get closer.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jongseong.” Sunghoon’s other friend greets you.

“Hi,” You say quickly before clearing your throat. “Um, Sunghoon, do you think we can talk really quick? In private?”

Sunghoon shakes his head no, but his two friends decide to take matters into their own terms.

“Oh, he’d love to! Right, Sunghoon?” Jongseong stares him down. Sunghoon clenches his jaw and rigidly nods.

He’s released by his friends, and like a robot, follows you out of the classroom. He’d try to make a break for it, but he could feel both Jongseong and Jaeyun’s eyes following him down the hall.

You lead him to a corner by the janitor’s closet, it’s a lot quieter as it’s away from the rowdy crowd of teeangers.

He stands far from you, not able to get closer than 10 feet. But you begin to close the space in between you, forcing Sunghoon to back up. Except he instead ran into a wall and found himself cornered by you.

“I was worried you wouldn’t show up today.” You begin to speak, stepping back and keeping a respectable distance. Sunghoon is as stiff as a board, eyes trained onto his feet.

“I wanted to say I’m really sorry for what happened yesterday.” You suddenly apologize. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I had no idea you were scared of girls, Jaeyun told me after you ran away.”

His best friend of the past eight years, Sim Jaeyun, revealed his most deepest darkest secret?! He felt so betrayed.

“But I want you to know I want to help you.” You say, and suddenly Sunghoon is looking at you (more like the outline of you, he still can’t look at you directly) with wide eyes.

“I mean we’re seatmates and club members, we should be able to help each other out.” You begin to explain. “And Jaeyun kind of asked me to help you.” You add sheepishly at the end.

Sunghoon was seriously going to get his revenge on that kid.

“So what do you say?” You ask, rocking back and forth on your feet as you patiently wait for his answer.

Sunghoon felt trapped. On one hand, his looming fear of women was stopping him, but on the other hand provided a (very scary) solution to his big problem.

“H-How would you help me?” He coughs out. “I was thinking we could start by being friends? Maybe work on the small stuff.” You offered.

The small stuff, yeah, he could deal with that, right?

Eventually, he nods, causing you to clap your hands together.

“Great! This is going to be easy, I promise!” You grin.

It was in fact not easy.

All morning you would try to get Sunghoon to give you as much as a look in your direction, whispering to him random questions and facts to try and start a conversation.

When lunch finally arrived, Sunghoon had never run so fast to the cafeteria before in his life.

“I’m gonna kill you Sim Jaeyun!” Sunghoon is seething as he sneaks up behind his friend. Jaeyun’s signature smile vanishes, and is replaced with fear.

“Sunghoon please-” “You told her?!” Sunghoon leads Jaeyun to sit down at their table.

“How else do I explain why you suddenly dipped in the middle of class? I could’ve told her you had to take a massive shit, but I didn’t!” Jaeyun argues, tugging Sunghoon off of him.

Hmm, touche.

“This was for the greater good, we all agreed on it.” Sunoo suddenly adds in. Sunghoon turns to his friends in shock.

“You guys voted? With Heeseung?!” He points to the (technically his) senior. Heeseung stared wide eyed, looking slightly guilty.

“We voted because you’re getting out of hand. Dude, my older sister ran into you at the supermarket the other day with your mom and when she said hi, you hid behind the cans of soup display.” Jungwon reveals.

“I thought she wouldn’t recognize me.” Sunghoon winces from the embarrassment.

Heeseung (awkwardly) claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Sungho.” “-Sunghoon,” Jaeyun whispers to him the correction.

“It’s okay, Sunghoon.” Heeseung pretends to have never made his mistake. “Everything will be alright.”

Sunghoon turns to him, lips thin. That one look has Heeseung’s arm falling back to his side.

“Come on Sunghoon, stop acting like this. You already agreed to let her help you anyways.” Jongseong argues. The boy sighs, rubbing his face in despair. Even Sunghoon can’t believe he still agreed.

“I take it back, can you guys tell her I’d rather be a hermit for the rest of my life and never want to see another woman again?” Sunghoon asks, looking stressed.

“Well don’t look now, but I’m pretty sure that’s her coming our way.” Jungwon points out, sipping his drink as he nods to his right.

The younger boy proves to be right, you’re making your way through the crowded cafeteria, holding your tray of food as you walk confidently towards Sunghoon and his friends. Unfortunately for him, Jaeyun traps him down to his seat before he can run again.

“Hey Sunghoon,” You smile, waving as you stop at the head of the table. Jongseong kicks his shin, forcing him to respond.

“Hi,” He grunts. The other boys snicker, finding all of this amusing.

“I was just wondering if we’re still having Calligraphy club today after school?” You ask.

Oh crap. With everything that happened today, Sunghoon had totally spaced out and forgotten what he’d promised the day before.

“He wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Riki grins at you. The youngest sticks his hand out to you, giving you an enticing smirk. “I’m Riki B by the way, you like younger guys?” His question earns him a slap on the arm by Jongseong.

As Riki gasps from the pain, you chuckle awkwardly. “So I’ll see you after class then? At the old library?” You check, facing Sunghoon again. He stiffly nods, still not looking at you.

“Cool, see you!” You finally leave, going to eat a few tables away. Once you're gone, Sunghoon feels as if he can breathe again.

“She’s pretty.” Heeseung giggles, earning quiet but strong agreements from the other boys. “You sit next to her?!” Sunoo sounds surprised, mocking the boy in question.

“Okay, shut up. All of you.” Sunghoon glares, his ears turning red.

“Don’t worry Sunghoon,” Riki begins to chuckle. “I won’t actually steal your girl, I’ve got my eyes on someone else.” He teases. “Just don’t get too butt hurt when she falls for my good looks and charismatic charm.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the youngest.

“Speak of the devil,” Riki suddenly laughs. “Yo shortcake!” He stands up in his seat, hollering at someone.

A girl in the sea of students spins around, first looking confused, then angry as her eyes land on the tall boy. She promptly flips him off, before stomping away with her friends.

Riki laughs, finding the situation funny. “I’ll see you guys later, with my new girlfriend.” He says confidently, dumping his food in the trash to go chase after the poor girl.

“Oh this is gonna be good,” Jungwon begins to chuckle, pulling out his phone before following his friend. “Send me the video!” Sunoo shouts and Jungwon gives him a thumbs up. “I pray for that girl,” Jaeyun shakes his head.

“She’s gonna need a miracle to get rid of him,” Jongseong agrees. “Same way Sunghoon’s gonna need a miracle to get out of Calligraphy club today.” Sunoo comments.

This was always one of Sunghoon's favorite parts of calligraphy: the setup. Being able to prepare and organize before he wrote felt calming in the sense that it was a comfortable pattern. He opens his box, revealing his multiple brushes and supplies safely packed inside.

Relishing in the silence, Sunghoon carefully takes out sheets of paper, placing them to his right. Using water from his designated calligraphy water bottle, he pours a small amount into his shallow ink stone.

Like a machine, Sunghoon begins to sternly rub his ink stick against the stone, breaking it down and mixing it with the water to create the dark opaque ink. He sets this to the side once finished, taking a piece of paper, and flattening it out with his paper weights.

With a deep breath, Sunghoon feels his heart calm down to a trill. This was the most relaxed he’s felt all week.

“So that’s how it’s supposed to look, huh?” Your voice interrupts his thoughts and suddenly Sunghoon is reminded of why you’re here in the first place.

Across from him you sit, copying him as you begin to set up your own supplies. You do so messily, but nonetheless, you get the job done looking satisfied.

“Okay! I’m ready whenever you are.” You clap your hands together, eager to start. Opposite to you, Sunghoon is silent as he begins to dip his brush into his ink, carefully calculating his brush strokes as he writes, quoting a poem he enjoyed.

“So, are you actually scared of catching cooties?” You ask, not so subtle. Your abrupt question has him frozen.

“Cause if you are, has anyone told you that cooties aren't real? It’s just a thing kids say-“

“I know.” He interrupts. “I just…” He loses the words, grimacing instead. You two grow quiet again, the tension in the air is thick.

“What are you writing?” You eventually speak up again.

“...It’s a quote from the poem ‘Flowers That Bloom When Shaken’ by Do Jonghwan.” He explains.

You nod. “Well I’m drawing a cat playing in a field.” You suddenly hold up your paper, showing him your art.

If he thought your calligraphy was bad, it was safe to say you weren’t an artist either. “Looks like a second grader made it.” He mumbles. You huff, grabbing a new paper.

As you both return to writing in silence, Sunghoon is able to focus and finish his piece, setting it to the side to let it dry properly.

He notices you suddenly stop writing, setting your brush down as you lean back into your chair. You sit with crossed arms, observing him. This has Sunghoon feeling like his skin was crawling.

“Sunghoon.” You call out. “Let’s play a game.”

He pauses. “I don’t like games.”

“Too bad, this is a fun one.” You assure him. You sit upright again and lean against the table.

“We’re just gonna ask each other questions, and we have to answer them.” You say it like it’s so easy.

“What if I don’t?” He fidgets.

“Every question you answer, you get to go home five minutes early.” You prompt. Sunghoon’s eyes flit across the room to the door. Leaving early sounded nice.

“We get three questions each, okay?” Sunghoon slowly nods. You clap your hands together, excited.

“I’ll go first,” You clear your throat. His heart begins to race, palms getting sweaty, and mind running wild at what horrible grotesque questions you could ask him.

“For my first question…” You hum. “Why do you like calligraphy?”

That wasn’t what he expected you to ask him.

“I-” He chokes, blinking as he tries to formulate an answer. “I… feel calm when I do calligraphy.” He answers slowly. “I can focus better, and I can relieve stress.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard was it? Now for the next question, maybe try looking at me and not the table.” You tease, and he begins to feel embarrassed.

“Now you ask me a question.”

Sunghoon shifts in his seat. There’s been something that’s been bugging him all day.

“Why-Why did you agree to help me?” He steals a quick glance at you, before opting to focus on the bookshelf behind you.

“Don’t get upset when I say this,” You mumble. “But you looked really scared yesterday at the science lab. I got worried when you ran off and didn’t come back. I thought I did something wrong.”

You were worried… for him? You two barely knew each other and yet you still stressed over him deserting you in the middle of class. Even more confusing, you thought it was your fault.

Sunghoon feels his heartbeat slow down.

“Okay, my turn again.” You clear your throat. “Are you scared of like all girls? Or just some of them?” Your curiosity seems to have gotten the better of you.

Sunghoon tilts his head to the side. “I’m normal around my mom and my sister. Family for the most part I'm fine. But I have trouble around everyone else I guess.” He sheepishly admits.

“I see.” You nod, and as you turn slightly, he catches a glimpse of your pouted lips. You seem to be deep in thought.

“My turn.” He speaks up, already prepared with his next question. You wait attentively.

“Why did you join the calligraphy club?”

You shrug at his question. “We visited my grandparents for the new year. My grandmother gifted me a set. I wasn’t gonna use it originally but then my friend convinced me to join the club. You guys know each other, his name is Kai. He said you were really nice and that you’d teach me.”

Sunghoon knew Kai alright. Kai was very close to his calligraphy club senior Soobin. The boy would often hang out in the club room last year when Soobin was around. He had no idea you two were friends.

But what really caught Sunghoon off was how highly Kai regarded him. They didn’t speak much, as both were pretty introverted. The fact that their little interactions were good enough for you to believe your friend was surprising to him.

“Thanks.” He nods, feeling a bit better about himself.

“Okay, my last question.” You drum your fingers against the wooden table. “Why are you scared of girls?”

If Sunghoon was being honest, he had a feeling you’d ask him this. He’d expected it earlier on, but there was no doubt you’d want to know how his fear started.

His words clump up at the back of his throat, refusing to come out as you wait patiently. He glances at the door and is reminded why he’s doing this in the first place.

“You can take your time, don’t feel pressured to tell me everything if you don’t want to.” You assure him, sliding back into your seat.

Your words help calm his nerves, and Sunghoon nods as he takes a deep breath.

“I wasn’t always scared.” He says after a moment. “But when I was seven, I got bullied by the girls in my class.”

“Everything used to be normal, but then one day I came to school and all the girls were whispering about me. They wouldn’t play with me, talk to me, they’d just watch me from afar and gossip.”

“And it was just me, none of the other boys in my class had it happen to them. When I tried to ask one of the girls during recess, she screamed at me to leave her alone.”

“After that, I just stopped talking to girls. I feel like I can’t understand them, I don’t know what they’re thinking, what they’ll do, or what they say. Even now, everyone’s always whispering about me like I'm disgusting.”

There’s anger in his voice as he finishes, and Sunghoon realizes his fists are clenched. He releases them, swallowing thickly as he tries to relax.

He slumps in his chair, hiding his face in his hands. Despite how horrified he was right now, he felt a bit relieved you now knew his secret.

“Please don’t tell anyone this. You’re one of the few people who know.” He admits.

“Okay, yeah. I promise.” You say softly. Your voice brings him some sense of tranquility.

“Why don’t we go home?” He nods solemnly, and the two of you clean up.

You two don’t speak again until you’re outside, the brisk March air hitting you both in the face, a large contrast to the warm temperature from inside.

“Thanks for telling me all of that back there.” You say, gripping your school bag as you two walk side by side (albeit a few feet in between you both, Sunghoon still wasn’t used to the idea of close proximity).

“Jaeyun probably would have told you anyway, that snitch.” Sunghoon mumbles. Hearing this makes you laugh. Something about it makes his ears turn red, and it's not from the cold.

“Oh!” You gasp, jumping up. “We forgot, you still have one more question to ask me.” You remind him.

Sunghoon begins to think, not sure what to ask. Unconsciously he turns, more focused on hearing your answer to realize he’s actually looking at you.

“How do you actually plan to ‘help’ me?” He raises a brow.

You look up at him and smile, giggling to yourself. “You’ll just have to wait and see!”

You skip ahead of him before waving goodbye as you head down a different street on your way home.

Sunghoon doesn’t wave back, instead, he stands there in the cold as your figure eventually disappears. It’s then does he realize his friends were right.

You are pretty.

Log 2: Tuesday - March 5th, 2024 | Log 4: Monday - April 1st, 2024

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist

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arcadia-of-pluto · 3 days ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Twenty-Five

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 1,827

Themes; isekai, slow-burn (eventual smut), canon divergence

Warnings; swearing and some future mature themes

Notes; A bit of a late chapter, but it's still within my weekend limit so I think it's okay! This chapter is on the shorter end just because I wanted to get it out there and I want to sort of...speed through Xavier's myth because I'm sure people are growing tired of the dream sequence arc. Anyways, major canon divergence near the end, it's not too noticeable as of right now, but you'll see what I mean in later chapters!

Also I'm so sorry if you're reading this on desktop lmao. The title, masterlist, and stuff look centered on mobile, but on my laptop, it definitely doesn't 😭 I don't write on laptop though, so...if it's uneven, it's uneven 🤷🏻‍♀️

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☆ masterlist ☆

“Xavier?” You immediately stood up and cleared your throat, hoping he didn’t catch your conversation with Jeremiah. “You…had a rather short chat with the royal messenger.”

Though, Xavier remains quiet. His gaze moves from your face to the arm around your shoulders to Jeremiah’s pensive expression.

You could sense some…hostility.

“Don’t glare at me. His highness left her injured so someone had to step up.” Your friend says, putting on the dramatics. “She was drowning in a pool of tears because of your highness’s lack of mercy.”

“It’s a shame your kindness was wasted.” Xavier responds in a monotone voice as he pushes Jeremiah’s arm off your shoulder. “I should provide succor for my junior.”

Was he…jealous?

“Well, I was only acting out of the kindness of my own heart.” Jeremiah shrugs. He had a slight mischievous look on his face and you elbow him in his side.

The plaza was enormous yet Xavier passes through between you and Jeremiah, and drags you away by your wrist. “Xavier...” You sigh, trying your best not to put any pressure on your ankle.

“Aid your junior instead of mine in her moments of distress if your heart is so full of compassion, then.” And with that, Xavier’s gentle hand wraps around your wrist once more and begins walking in the opposite direction– slow enough so you can keep up with him as you limp behind him.

But, once Jeremiah was out of view, Xavier crouches down in front of you so you can get on his back.

Xavier was piggybacking you to your mentor’s lodging. Your mentor, a Grand Knight of the Lightseeker Legion, was known as one of the greatest swordmasters of Philos and a trusted advisor to the King himself.

This is why he was granted special permissions to live on the campus and this is where he teaches his students. Xavier took you here because there’s a first aid station that you both know all too well.

“Xavier, my legs can walk just fine! Seriously…” You sigh once he finally sits you down in one of the nearby chairs.

“Were you actually crying back there?” As he asks this, Xavier looks away. A crestfallen look washing over his face. “Jeremiah was just saying nonsense. Do you actually believe him?” You tilt your head down to meet his eyes with a raised brow.

“Let me check.” Xavier puts his hands on the arms of the chair as he leans in close to your face.

Hey…This seems a little familiar, doesn't it—

“Your eyes are red. If you weren’t crying, then you’ve got to be sick.” His voice has a soft tone to it, akin to crushed velvet.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you scoff and quickly turn your head to the side, ears turning red.

Xavier’s body blocked out much of the light. Cupping your cheek, he rested his thumb on your lower eyelid and stared at you. After a few minutes of silence, you flinched as he blew air into your face.

“Xavier, you– What was that for?” You blink with your now watery eyes and Xavier just chuckles and moves back from you, “I spotted a silhouette of a hooligan in your eyes. Now all is well.”

“Huh…A hooligan, you say? Do you mean Jeremiah?” You muse, leaning your back against the wall as you lightly swing your legs.

Xavier raises a brow at this before he gets an almost pouty expression on his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks out the window, “To approach you for no reason, let alone touch you…How is he not one?”

“You’re the hooligan for suddenly making that weird expression,” you fire back, unsure as to why Xavier is upset in the first place– well, you know why, but apparently she doesn’t.

You lunged forward to grab his wrist, wanting to question why Xavier looked so upset, but you moved a little too quickly and instead your body fell forward. Unable to stop yourself and with Xavier not moving, the two of you fell onto the carpet below.

Xavier lets out a noise of surprise as you land on his chest and you lightly hit it with your hand. “Why didn’t you move?”

“You’ll be walking with a limp if you twist your ankle again.” The way he speaks, it’s as if he values your safety over his own and you sigh, shaking your head, “Had I twisted your ankle, our teacher would never forgive us. He’d speak of…”

“The Grandis Knight is to be the King’s steady blade. Where his majesty points, your blade must follow,” He finishes your sentence for you and then looks up at the ceiling. “In every waking moment, every dream can I recite those words.”

You look around for a moment before resting your chin on his chest, not wanting to move just yet. “Hmm…Is he not coming back today?” Then your eyes widen and you groan, covering your face with your hands, “I haven’t studied the technique he showed me! I’ll be dead if he asks…”

“He’s with the other knights. He’ll be away for some time.” Xavier chuckles with a small smile, his hands slowly moving up to curl around your waist before they stiffen just before touching you.

“Ahem…”

“Hmm? You’re back already?” Xavier clears his throat as he sits up, making sure you don’t put any pressure on your ankle as you move to sit on the floor next to him.

“Ah…Congratulations on your flawless victory?” You sheepishly grin up at your mentor as you rub the back of your neck.

“Who taught you two to formally greet your teacher while on the floor?” The older man had a kind, yet stern tone, similar to a father exasperated by his loving children.

“Stand up.”

Well, after that…awkward moment, you have dinner together with your teacher. He speaks about the expedition, another royal family member lost in the dark sea of space, and then finally, finally asks about your ankle.

Which leads to both you and Xavier being unable to cover up your lies, and your teacher laughing at a future King using his future Grandis Knight to skip out on class and…since it was a tie, the two of you had to go outside after you finished eating and fight again, and again until a winner was decided.

Great.

You’re going to be so physically tired after this dream.

After fighting in front of the Holy Sword of the Goddess into the late hours of the night, Xavier finally gives you an order to sit down and rest. You both had won your fair share of times and your palms were bloody– maybe you should invest in some gloves…

Under the Goddess Statue, Xavier and you sat next to each other in the grass. Taking some medicine out of his pocket, he pours it over your bloodied hands.

“Ouch–” You hiss between your teeth at the sting of pain, “I think you used too much, Doctor Xavier.”

“And yet with remarkable determination, you didn’t appear to be in any pain until I applied medicine.” Xavier doesn’t look up as he pulls more and more first-aid out of his pockets. His deft fingers gently wrap a tight bandage around your left hand, before moving on to your right.

To distract yourself from the pain, you look up at the stars before noticing a glimmer of light on the Goddess Statue’s face.

“This monument was forged from the swords of previous Grandis Knights, right?” You never noticed the statue having anything on her face during the daytime, but you were curious about that…Well, whatever it is.

“Yes, did you want to know more about it?” Xavier finally looks up, hands pausing their task as he takes a moment to think before he continues, “Ehko.”

“Huh?” You turn back to look at Xavier, but he’s back to bandaging your palms.

“You wanted to know the story behind the statue, right? According to some ancient books I found, her name was Ehko. There’s not much else written about her, but that light on her face can only be seen at night. No one knows why though, the statue doesn’t have anything that can give off light on her face.” He’s hyper-focused on your hand as he speaks, wiggling your fingers to make sure they’re not too tightly wrapped.

“Maybe…” You look back up at the statue. “She’s crying?”

“Why would she be crying?” He asks, letting your hands go as he finishes wrapping them.

“Maybe she’s mourning the fallen Grandis Knights…or a lover perhaps?” You muse before shrugging. “Anyone can come up with a believable story, but when all is said and done, the statue is still a constant reminder of ‘Wherever his majesty points, a knight’s sword must follow.’”

“You are no knight.” Xavier shakes his head. It’s a wonder why he’s so unwilling for you to follow him, for you to stay by his side as a Grandis Knight with him as King.

“It’s only a matter of time before I am.” You sigh, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you lean forward to hug your knees to your chest. It almost felt as if…you didn’t want to be a knight, but you were forced into this role.

“So…why did his majesty send the royal messenger today?”

“They’re requesting I return like always. The royal messenger said the preparations for the Titulus Ceremony are underway.” Xavier sounded gloomy as he spoke, reluctant.

“The Titulus Ceremony…? So suddenly…”

As the only Prince of Philos, Xavier had to participate in the royal family’s numerous ceremonies, not a single one could be skipped when he was to eventually wear the crown. Especially a ceremony as important as this one.

“He might not make it this time.” Xavier looks away from you. His face, illuminated by the few fireflies that came out to dance around in the night, was rather neutral. The only hint of emotion came from the down-turn of his lips and the light dimming in his eyes.

“...Will you depart immediately?” You had to physically stop yourself from balling your hands into fists, instead opting to hold your hands together as anxiety bubbled in your chest.

You hear a sigh from Xavier and look up to see him shaking his head. A hint of anger flicks through his eyes before he speaks, “I refuse to forget that incident.”

While this version of you can only speculate on what he means by this, you truly know the reason behind his anger, his resentment, toward his father.

It seems he really is the same Xavier from your first dream and, in turn, the same Xavier that you already know– and perhaps love.

It’s strange that, in all of your dreams, Xavier is the one you feel closest to, because he really is the same Xavier. He’s not a cold and callous demi-god nor is he a God of the Sea, he’s just Xavier.

I don't really have an author's note for the ending tbh 🤔😭 since I refuse to elaborate on the canon divergence stuff right now...so anyway, did you see the new 5 star cards?

I love cat boys so much 🥺 so this is perfect for me! They all look so good, but I'm definitely going to go for Rafayel's if I can.

Speaking of 5 star cards, I might include the main story branches if they're canon. Like if they come immediately after the MC returning from the N109 Zone! I haven't looked at any of them yet, but I will soon just to see. And if they are, they'll happen a few weeks to a month after the dream sequences (in story btw, not irl time), because Y/n is probably going to have a mental breakdown :D

Oh! I will add that Ehko can be pronounced as "Eco(e-co)", "Echo(ek-o)", or even "Eiko (eye-ko)", it honestly doesn't matter how it's pronounced so go wild

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey , @tanspostsblog , @shypotatoes013-blog

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 22 hours ago

Note

Can you please write a classic trope of reader overhearing black album/load James calling her “clingy”? Like guys in the band joke about it and he is fed up? So she stops coming over to studios and bringing food over, stops asking him to pick her up from work, if he wants to go to a bar, she always has a “headache”? Maybe it’s not until Bob Rock mentions that he likes when she’s over cause James always does a better job in her presence? - that’s when he gets that something is off???

I hope you like it❤

Hurtful Word

The studio has that same familiar smell—beer, lingering cigarette smoke, and the electric hum of amps running hot. I balance a bag with burgers and a beer as I push open the door, knowing James has been holed up here for hours. I just wanted to show up, bring him something he’d actually eat, something other than junk food and coffee. It’s a small thing, but I’ve always thought it meant something.

But as soon as I walk in, Lars glances over and smirks at Kirk. Their eyes flick to me, exchanging that look they always get when they’re about to make a joke.

“Damn, man,” Lars says, his voice loud enough to carry. “You got yourself a personal chef now? Can’t even get a sandwich without her delivering it?”

Kirk snickers, crossing his arms. “Yeah, dude, she’s here more than we are. Got a whole support team working for you, huh?”

The teasing makes my chest tighten, but I keep my head high, hoping James will laugh it off. But instead of a joke or a roll of his eyes, he glances at me, looks away, and mutters, “You don’t need to keep doing this. It’s kinda… clingy.”

Clingy. The word slices through me, and I freeze. I don’t even hear the guys teasing him further because the room goes silent in my head. Clingy.

Lars laughs. “Oh, she’s clingy now?” he grins. “Better watch out, man, she might end up moving in next.”

“Yeah, at least keep some space, Hetfield,” Kirk chimes in. “You don’t want to be tied down yet.”

My smile falters. I feel my face heat, and I force myself to nod. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hover.” My voice is too tight, too fake. I turn to leave quickly, wanting to get out before anyone can say anything else.

I don’t even make it to the door before I hear James mutter something, but it’s too late. I’m already out.

____

James Hetfield POV

The next few days are strange. She’s not at the studio, hasn’t called, hasn’t stopped by. When I wanted to go at bar she said that she had a headache. I figured at first she’d just been busy. But by the second day, I realize it’s more than that. She’s actively keeping her distance. I try to shake it off, thinking it’s just her way of taking some space, but there’s an unease gnawing at me.

My concentration is shot. The guys are noticing. I can’t get anything right during practice.

Bob Rock finally pulls me aside one evening, looking at me like he knows something’s wrong.

“You okay, James?” Bob asks, his tone casual but concerned. “You’ve been off the last couple of days. It’s like something’s not clicking.”

I rub my face, trying to avoid admitting it. “Just tired, man. It’s been a long couple of sessions.”

Bob gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I get it. But, uh... I’ve noticed something, and I’m gonna be blunt with you, alright?”

I look up, a little surprised. “What’s that?”

Bob leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “When she’s here, when she’s around, you play better. Hell, the band’s tighter, too. There’s something about the way you focus when she’s here, like she brings out the best in you. But now that she’s gone... it’s like you’ve lost your spark.”

I stare at Bob, the words hitting harder than I expected. She makes me better? I never thought of it that way. But Bob’s right. Every time she showed up with lunch or a little note, I’d felt more grounded. More centered. The music flowed easier. And now? It’s like the fire’s gone out. The sessions feel lifeless. I’ve been distracted, unfocused.

Suddenly, I feel a deep pang of regret. I hadn’t realized how much she was actually keeping me grounded, how much her quiet presence affected me. I’d taken her for granted, pushed her away with my stupid, careless words. I can’t take it anymore. Not the silence. Not the distance between us. I’ve been calling her all week, and every time, it goes straight to voicemail. It’s eating me alive. I don’t care how bad I fucked up—I need to fix this. I need to see her, to hear her, to make sure she knows that I’m sorry.

I jump in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. “Clingy” I said that word to her. And now I can't stop hearing it echoing in my head. The guys had joked, but I could see it in her eyes—she wasn’t laughing. I pushed her away, and now I can’t reach her.

I don’t even think as I pull up to her building. I park quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, and rush to the door. My breath catches in my throat as I knock, then ring the doorbell. There’s no answer. I knock again, harder this time, and then… nothing.

I press my ear against the door, and I hear movement inside. My stomach tightens. I don’t know if it’s hope or desperation, but I feel the overwhelming need to be with her, to fix what’s broken.

Finally, the door opens just enough for her face to peek through. Her eyes are tired, and she looks… fragile. Like she’s been holding herself together, but just barely.

I swallow hard. “Can we talk?” My voice cracks a little, betraying the anxiety twisting in my gut. “I need to talk to you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even step aside at first. For a second, I think she might slam the door in my face. But then she opens it wider, just enough to let me in. I walk past her, my heart hammering in my chest, and she follows me in silence.

The air between us is thick—heavy with everything that hasn’t been said. I turn around to face her, and for a moment, I can’t find the words. The look on her face… It breaks me. It’s like she’s shutting down, like she’s already made up her mind to walk away.

“I was stupid,” I blurt, the words tumbling out faster than I can control. “I shouldn’t have said that. "Clingy". What the hell was I thinking? You’re not clingy. You’re—God, I don’t even know how to fix this. I can’t take it back, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

She just stands there, her eyes cold and distant. I hate it. I hate seeing her like this—like she doesn’t care anymore. The silence between us stretches out, making the weight of what I said feel heavier than ever.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice is quieter than I expect, almost like a whisper. “You made me feel like I was too much. Like I wasn’t even wanted. I was just trying to be there for you, and you… you pushed me away. In front of the guys, James. You made me feel like a joke.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can see it now—how badly I hurt her. How wrong I was. She’s standing there, so small, her shoulders slumped like she’s carrying the weight of everything I’ve said.

I feel my chest tightening, my throat burning. “I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. You’ve never been too much, not for me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re everything to me, and I—God, I don’t even know how I got so fucking stupid.”

I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out, but she pulls back slightly. “I don’t know if you even understand how much you hurt me,” she says, her voice shaking now. “You made me feel like I was suffocating you. And I can’t keep trying if you’re not going to see me. If you don’t want me around…”

The words trail off, and I can hear the tears in her voice. My heart shatters, and before I even realize it, I’m moving toward her, pulling her into my arms.

“I didn’t mean it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Please, don’t walk away from me.”

She stands still for a moment, then gives in, her body relaxing as she buries her face in my chest. I feel the wetness of her tears against my shirt, and it kills me. I never wanted to make her feel like this. Never.

“I miss you,” I whisper, holding her tighter. “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”

Her hands clutch the front of my shirt, and for a moment, we’re both just standing there, tangled up in the mess of emotions between us. The silence is raw, but it feels real.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “You’ve gotta promise me, James. Promise me you’ll never do this again. That I’m not just some fucking joke to you.”

“I promise,” I say, my voice steady now. “I swear to you, I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I had until I almost lost it.”

And then, suddenly, I feel the need to say something else. Something that’s been weighing on me for a while. I pull her back into my arms, my hands gripping her tightly as I press my lips to her hair. “You know, I always appreciated you showing up at the studio. I never said it, but you always brought something with you—something that helped me focus.

When you’re there, I can think clearer, the music just comes to me better. It’s like I’m myself again, you know? And when you weren’t around these last couple of days, I realized how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I need you there. Not just because I like having you close, but because you make me better.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, but I feel her body soften against mine. “I didn’t know that,” she whispers.

“I should have told you sooner,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I need you in my life. Not just in the studio, but everywhere.”

Her hand rests gently on my chest. “I need you too, James. But you’ve gotta prove it.”

“I will,” I promise, brushing my lips against her forehead. “Every day, I’ll show you.”

We stand there in the quiet of her apartment, the weight of everything between us slowly lifting. For the first time in days, I feel a sense of peace. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that as long as I don’t let her go again, we’ll find our way through it together.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #metallica fluff #metallica angst #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield one shot #james hetfield angst #nausicaamusiclover20

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httpvomitello · 21 hours ago

Note

If it's okay with you can we please have a reader who has wings instead of hands x rise turtles where the reader likes to pick them up and fly with them at random. (Probably has to perch on raph but oh well.)

But anyways they'll get the turtles to do stuff for them they can't do. (Like microwaving food.)

Owwn, that's cute. Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Feathered Love *⁠.⁠✧

The first time you swoop down and grab him mid-stride, he lets out the loudest, most dramatic scream

“¡Dios mío, I’m too young to die!” he yells, flailing until he realizes it’s just you.

Once he calms down, he plays it cool, acting like he wasn’t terrified. “Oh, you wanted a piece of this? Understandable.”

Secretly loves the thrill

He’ll start teasing you with fake warnings when he knows you’re about to fly off

“We flying to the moon today, featherbutt?”

Once you perch him on a rooftop, he immediately pulls out his phone to take selfies, claiming it’s for “mission intel.”

At first, Leo is confused when you ask for help with small tasks, like microwaving your food

“Wait, you can fly but you can’t press a button?” he teases, already on his way to help

He’ll make a show of it, dramatically placing your food in the microwave. “Behold, the Great Leonardo, Master of the Microwave!”

Secretly loves being able to help you, even with simple stuff

He’ll even start adding little flourishes, like garnishing your food before handing it over.

The first time you lift him, he’s completely stunned. “WHAT THE—PUT ME DOWN!”

But once he realizes you’re strong enough to carry him safely, he relaxes (sort of)

“THIS IS AMAZING!” he smile, loving the view.

Definitely becomes your personal perch

His broad shoulders and solid frame make it the perfect spot to rest after a flight

If you swoop in while he’s training, he’ll roll his eyes but allow it. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Low-key protective. “If you get tired, don’t push it, alright? I don’t need you getting hurt.”

The moment you ask for help, he’s already doing it without a second thought

“You need this heated up? Got it.”

He’ll carry your plate back to you carefully, grumbling about how the microwave beeps too many times

If anyone teases you about needing help, Raph is quick to shut them down. “They’ve got wings, what’s your excuse?”

Starts learning what you like so he can prep stuff ahead of time. “Made you some noodles earlier. Just need to heat ‘em up.”

The first time you pick him up, he’s annoyed. “Excuse me, I am conducting highly important research!”

Mid-flight, he’s already analyzing the physics. “Fascinating. Your wingspan must generate significant lift to carry my weight.”

Once he gets used to it, he starts requesting flights for “aerial reconnaissance” of his inventions

Loves the practical applications of your abilities, but don’t expect him to admit he enjoys the experience

“For science, of course. This has nothing to do with the exhilaration of flight.”

If you drop him off on a high rooftop to test one of his drones, he’ll praise your precision but remind you: “No sudden drops, darling. My heart isn’t built for such shocks.”

Donnie initially suggests creating a custom gadget for you to handle small tasks. “Why rely on others when technology can assist?”

But until then, he’s happy to help, albeit in his own way. “Your reliance on me has its perks. Now, let’s adjust your caloric intake.”

He’ll program the microwave to the exact time and temperature for optimal results, refusing to let you settle for less

“Perfection takes precision, my feathered love.”

Also insists on taste-testing anything you ask him to heat up. “Quality control is essential, after all.”

Absolutely loves it from the get-go. “WHEEEE! I’m flying, baby!”

He spreads his arms out like he’s Peter Pan™ every time you lift him, fully embracing the ride

Constantly begs for “airtime.” “C’mon, Y/N! Just one more lap around the lair!”

You often catch him jumping up and down, yelling, “Take me, winged guardian!”

Loves being perched somewhere high, where he can “survey his kingdom.”

If you fly him at night with a great view, he’ll insist on having a mini picnic up there. “Best date idea ever, right?”

Mikey thinks it’s adorable when you ask for help. “Aww, don’t worry, I gotcha!”

He’ll happily microwave your food and even plate it up like a five-star chef. “Presentation is key, my love!”

Sometimes he gets overly enthusiastic and starts adding sauces or sides without you asking. “Trust me, this combo is fire.”

If you ask him for anything else—like reaching for things or opening jars—he does it with a little flourish. “Mikey at your service!”

Will absolutely turn it into a fun routine. “Okay, Y/N, what’s today’s special?”

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #they/them #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader

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nyc3 · 2 days ago

Note

The whole cinderIzu is great and I welcome with open arms. For my au, I have an idea for them meet.

Again, BK is a footnote in her life and Izumi is not dedicating all her time and energy in thinking of him. (She hears how his quirk remains the same, no quirk awakening bs, how bk's attitude got worse and how Aizawa is sure BK is the future)

Izumi hears about the mpa here and there and ...is not impressed. She needs money, her group can't work by luck...they need ration and more, and Izumi is not happy ReDestro has "schools" for kids to learn their quirks...its just a camp where the kid learns how to use their quirk AND NOTHING ELSE (Geten my be alliterate here)

Stealing from Redestro is not something she can pull off on her own. She needs help to do this heist.

(the quirk schools aren't illegal, per se, but it rubs Izumi in the wrong way. She is right)

Enters Cinder. He shows up with his helmet, all gear up and...well, he too needs money and Mr. Youtsubashi is loaded and if he wants to make quirk schools, fine...let's rob the fucker.

Izumi gawks as Cinder removes his helmet. He is handsome and cute...she wasn't expecting this.

Lol

(I love a good mask reveal!)

I also live for the moments when a character takes of their mask and reveals to be hot, and Cider isn't the exception. I mean can you blame Midoriya for want him?

Note: Izu probably loves in particular the little scar Cider got in his eyebrown, he/she found that detail to be especially sexy.

...

Is funny you mention the whole plot of Cider helping Izu to steal stuff from Re-Destro company, as I also have this idea of him making an operation to steal from a werehouse full of valuable tech and support items that Detnerant (I think that's the company name) sells into the black market.

They would have success stealing a lot of merch they later sell to get money, but also Cider found a particularly expensive prototype of a high tech glider he decides to keep for himself and use to compliment his surfing style. As Mizunami is really into surfing in my AU, like he seems to be in canon.

Oh I forgot to mention before but the vigilante name Cider/Mizunami will use for my AU will be "Splashdown". Be free to use it if you like the name.

And since you mentioned Geten here, do you think he will have some role in the story? As I mentioned before I love the idea of Cider being a Himura, but also he probably was rejected by his clan because his quirk is water instead of ice and the Himuras seems to be the kind of elitist jerks to would dishonor a child for born with a "imperfect" quirk.

Which would create a lot of tension between Cider and Geten, especially is they reconogice each other. Geten hating Cider for being "a failed Himura" and Cider will hate Geten because he's just a "an attack dog" for Re-Destro.

#bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #bnha deku #ciderdeku #mha cider house #bnha rewrite #bnha au #My love for this ship is getting crazy

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katyawriteswhump · 2 hours ago

Text

Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow. Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and… Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible. Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve and eddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #wriggly wednesday #wiggle wednesday #steddie au

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thevoidstaredback · 1 day ago

Text

The day was finally there. It was finally happening. Phase two of the best prank the Wayne Family and friends had ever pulled off was finally coming to its peak! If all went well, then they'd only have one more thing to do.

As long as the heroes approached them about it. They'd all placed bets on whether they'd actually get away with trying to pull one over on the Justice League or not. It was pretty evenly split.

It's the morning of and there are exactly ten hours before Wayne Manor is consumed with fast paced staff and last minute everythings. Eleven hours before the guests begin to arrive.

06:00

It was an early day for everyone, but Gala Days are always like that. Patrol had been cut short for Damian, Tim, Steph, and Cass, so they, along with Duke, were the only ones who were working on longer than four hours of sleep.

It wasn't all that bad, though. They're vigilantes. If they were thrown off kilter for getting less than a few hours of sleep, then they'd've been exposed before Jason stole the wheels off the Batmobile.

Either way, Alfred had everyone up for a nice, but simple, breakfast before they got on with their days.

He'd made eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, toast, fried tomatoes, and mushrooms, though Damian and Steph were given coconut bacon, eggplant, and applesauce instead of bacon, sausage, and egg. Everyone got their preferred drink of coffee, orange juice, or milk.

Out of everyone, aside from Alfred, Duke was the most awake, but that was because he had to go on patrol soon. Damian would join him about midday, just after lunch.

Duke was relieved to be out all day. He didn't want anything to do with all the last minute preparations that would be going on, no thank you, sir. It would all be worth it in the end, but he'd rather not be stressed to the heavens while trying to prank some of the best heroes in the world.

Why did Bruce think this was a good idea?

Why did they all go along with it?

Oh, that's right, it's because they're all crazy.

It's gonna be so much fun, though, so he's not complaining too much. Everyone can be stressed out here in the Manor, but he's going to be stressed about other things on patrol.

07:00

After breakfast was cleaned up and Duke had left for patrol, the rest of the Wayne Family set about reviewing everything they'd done to prepare, including going over exactly what their hired security had been doing since they were asked to work the event.

This fell to Barbra. Which is total bullshit because she has a dayjob and she doesn't live in Wayne Manor. And, no matter how much Bruce insists, she's not his child, so she shouldn't have to be stressed over this like they are!

She hadn't spent the night at the Manor, but Dick was keeping her updated on what was going on at the Manor. She kinda wishes she'd gotten some of Alfred's food before going to work, but a bowl of cereal and some toast was better than nothing.

She hated early morning shifts, but she'd had to take this one because of the gala that night.

The things she does for her boys. (Yes, she's including the girls in that statement. It's a term of endearment.)

It was a slow morning, like every morning at the library, so Barbra was doing the painstaking task of going over every single move thirty people had made in the last two weeks.

Was it necessary? No. Was she doing it anyway? Yes, but only because Bruce is a paranoid bastard. And, in Gotham, that's normally justified. Especially since they were hosting high-profile guests who aren't allowed to spend any amount of time in Gotham at all.

This was fun as hell, but this particular precaution was so redundant.

Babs wants a pay raise.

She doesn't get paid for this.

would you look at that, the first two people are still clean. Twenty-eight more to go.

"Dad's probably having much more fun at the station." She snorts softly. "Yeah, right."

08:00

Kate, Selina, and Luke were on Arkham duty. No one ever goes out of their way like this, but knowingly having so many powered individuals in Gotham at the same time was a risk that they were putting extra precautions in place to account for.

Arkham Asylum is a revolving door on the best days and they were due for another breakout soon. Everyone could feel it.

Batman doesn't like metahumans operating in Gotham because of the sheer amount of chemical warfare and child endangerment. A normal civilian that's been hit with Fear Gas or Joker Toxin is a pain to subdue and cure. A Bat is even worse, and most of them don't have superpowers. A meta getting doused with either of those would be disastrous.

The Justice League may not know the reasoning, but they respect it. This means, however, that none of them know how to deal with anything that happens in Gotham.

They're not patrolling the city. They'll leave that up to Signal and Robin, whenever he joins him. Batwoman, Bat Wing, and Catwoman are stationed around Arkham Island itself. Batwoman is watching Arkham East, Bat Wing at Arkham West, and Catwoman at Arkham North. Under strict instructions to not engage in the event of a breakout, they're there purely to watch. If there is a breakout, then they're to down the bridge and call the rest of the family to help deal with it. From there, it's just normal procedure.

Why Bruce doesn't have surveillance on the island already is anyone guess.

"We've only just gotten here," Batwoman said into her comm, "But I'm already over this."

"Don't jinx it, man," Bat Wing sighed, "I'd rather have a boring day today."

Catwoman tsked at them. "It'd be exciting, though, having to deal with a breakout and a gala at the same time."

"I guess," Batwoman agreed, "But with so many heroes coming to the city? That sounds like a horrible time."

"Where's your sense of whimsy, Katey-cat?" there was a teasing smile in her voice.

"Dead with my aunt and uncle."

Bat Wing couldn't stop his laugh. "Ha! Don't let B hear you talk like that."

"I can talk however I want to. B cope by putting on a bat suit and fighting crime, I cope by making jokes."

"Batwoman?"

"Yeah, Cat?"

"You're wearing a bat suit and fighting crime."

A moment of silence passed between the three.

"Shut up."

10:00

Tim's job was monitor duty. He was charged with watching every entrance to the city, making sure he knew the exact moment the heroes and their families arrived.

Monitor duty's always boring. How does Barbra do it? She deserves a pay raise.

She doesn't get paid. None of them do...

Hm.

Tim knows why it's important to know exactly when their superpowered guests arrive. He also knows why it's important to know exactly where they all are while they're in the city. But, c'mon. Why does he have to be here all day? If they timed it right, then no one should be entering the city until-

Oliver. And Dinah and Roy and Lian.

What the hell are they doing here so early? Even on a private jet, it's a seven hour flight! They shouldn't be there until two at the earliest!

Unless they boarded at two in the morning.

Who in their right mind would put a toddler on a plane for a redeye flight?

Rephrasing: Why would someone as rich as Oliver think it would be a good idea to take a red eye to the Crime Capital of the country?

Did they- were they here so early to sight see?

He shakes his head as he picks up his phone and calls Jason. "Head's up, man, The Queens just landed at the airport."

"Got it." Jason hung up. Asshole.

Tim sent the same message to the group chat they'd made for this purpose. Oliver, Dinah, Roy, and Lian were now in Gotham City. If Jason does his job right, then they'll have a tracker placed on them soon. If not, then Tim'll have to follow them the hard way.

He switched to a different monitor, keeping one on the Queen Family. If he's right, then the only groups not arriving by plane will be the Supers and the Wonders, so he'll have to watch the train stations and bridges, too.

12:00

Alfred called everyone to lunch the moment the clock turned over the hour. Nothing had gone wrong so far and it was putting everyone on edge.

A pessimistic view, but that's how they were all raised. Well, most of them were raised that way.

Despite waiting anxiously for the other shoe to drop, everyone was having a grand time. Phase Two of their prank wasn't nearly as fun as Phase One, but they were still excited to go through with it. After all, if they pull this off, they'll have more leverage over the heroes, and that's just too good too pass up.

Bruce called attention by clearing his throat. "Our original plan was to see if the Justice League would be able to sniff us out tonight without us having to say anything. I'd like to alter that course a little bit."

Now he had everyone's undivided attention.

"As you know, I've asked Oliver to give a speech tonight. Afterwards, as everyone's clearing out, I want to tell him directly."

"But what about Clark and Diana?" Steph asked, "You've known them the longest, so shouldn't they be the first to know?"

Bruce nodded. "Yes, but I don't have an excuse to pull either of them aside without it looking suspicious."

"Why tell anyone at all?" Jason said, "If they can't figure it out on their own, why should they get to know at all?"

"I was going to tell them anyway," Bruce admitted, "I just thought that you all would like to have some fun with it before then. After all, it wouldn't be just my name they're learning, but all of yours."

"So, everyone would know?" Dick wondered. It'd be a relief on his end, especially because he'd spent weeks convincing the others to let him tell his best friend.

Bruce nodded. "All of the Justice League would. All of the other teams will probably find out through word-of-mouth, so once the JL knows, then every hero will know."

"That's a huge risk, B-man," Tim stated, "Are you sure it's the right decision?"

Jason scoffed. "We're asking questions now? We knew the risks when we started this whole thing. I say we see it through to the end, but you all tell your teams at the same time."

"You only say that because you'd be completely safe from the risk." Steph jabbed lightly.

He smirked at her. "Exactly."

"So, you'll tell Queen tonight before he leaves. At the next meeting, you tell your team while we tell ours?" Damian surmised.

"Exactly, chum."

"Yeah, but why Oliver? Why now?" Dick asked again.

Bruce looked sheepish. "Because I trust them." It was hard for him to admit, but this was probably long overdue. "I trust them with my safety, and I trust them with yours." Then, he smirked, "Plus, no one will believe Oliver if he tries to tell anyone."

The table started laughing together, the mood brightened.

Cass tapped the table after a few minutes. "Good idea," she said, signing as she spoke, "They'll hurt, but be glad you told."

Tim sighed. "I guess I gotta set up a meeting with the Titans, huh?" He pulled out the phone he uses exclusively for Red Robin. Then, he paused. "I don't think I want to tell them all. I'll obviously tell my team, but that's already going to be a huge amount of people who know."

"I'm inclined to agree." Damian added, "Though I'm not worried about so many heroes knowing, it is concerning to have that many variables holding our secret."

Steph agreed, "I don't work much with the other heroes, so I'll be pretty safe, but that is a lot of potential betrayals."

"Don't say it like that!" Dick gasped, "He's opening up!"

"No, no," Bruce waved, "She's right. It's a risk I'm willing to take by telling my closest friends, but I won't if you al don't feel comfortable with it."

"Well, then that makes this whole thing a moot point, doesn't it?" Tim said. He had yet to put is RR phone away, but he hadn't even turned it on either.

"I think we should tell them," Dick said, "Just our closest friends."

"Easy for you to say, Richard, West already knows who we all are."

"All the more reason to tell the Justice League! Even if we only tell the people who we invited tonight, then that's fine. It's still a huge show of trust on our end."

"He's right," Cass said, "They trust us, we trust them. Time to show them."

"Am I telling my team, or not?" Tim groaned.

"I will be telling Jon." Damian decided.

Bruce nodded. "I'll tell my team."

"I'll tell mine." Tim agreed.

Dick rubbed the back of is head, "Well, Wally already knows, but I think Raven isn't mad at me anymore."

Right, because this was actually a huge point of contention between Dick and his team.

"Anyone I'd tell already know, so, I'm good."

Bruce sighed. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Good, 'cause I won't answer."'

"Wonderful that you've all come to a decision," Alfred said as he finished clearing the dishes and food, "But I believe Master Duke is waiting on you, Master Damian."

"Right." He pushed himself away from the table, tucking the chair behind him. "I will see you all tonight."

13:00

Unlike everyone else, Jason wasn't in costume or stuck at the manor. Or at work. He was on ground duty.

Before lunch, he'd managed to slip a tracker onto Lian and Roy, not without Roy texting him to ask what the fuck was up. He said that he needed to get one onto Oliver or Dinah so that Batman knew where they were while in the city.

"That's fucked, man." Roy had sent back, though Lian's tracker was moved to Oliver.

"Not my decision," Jason had sent back, "But it's a safety precaution, so stay together."

After the discussion at lunch, the topic of which they should've hashed out at the very beginning of all of this, he'd been set back to follow unsuspecting heroes.

Which is a lot harder than you'd think, but still pretty easy for him.

It helps that Roy knows he's following them for safety reasons.

Though, another message came from Tim stating that both the Speedsters and the Wonders had entered Gotham. Sure, easy. Except the Speedsters had taken a plane while the Wonders had taken a car.

Fun.

While Tim's tracking Diana's car, Jason gets to put trackers on Iris and Bart. Dick, supposedly, has told Wally to look for Jason but not acknowledge him, as well as the fact that the trackers are a safety measure.

Apparently, Wally's on board wo help where he can. Good. That means that Jason can quietly hand off the trackers and Wally can deal with the rest.

At least, that's how it was supposed to go.

Jason was not warned that Wally holds the same energy as Dick.

"Jason!" Wally's smile was huge when he called out to him, running over to greet him, leaving his confused family a few yards behind. "Dick said you'd meet us here! It's been a while; How's it going?"

First off, Jason has never met Wally, though he supposes it's a good cover story. Second, why the hell does Wally know his name and face? He's going to kill Dick.

He popped a smirk. "Nice to see you, too, Wally. Dick's sorry he couldn't be here to meet you guys, but he's held up with some work at the moment."

Wally waved him off while Barry, Iris, and Bart joined them. "Meh, I'll harass him about it later. In the meantime, can you show us where our hotel is? We would take a taxi, but Dickie warned me about driving in Gotham when he heard we were coming."

Hotel? Makes sense, though it's inconvenient. "Dick's mixing up Bludhaven drivers with Gotham drivers." He shook his head. "Though, be healthily cautious of everything in Gotham while you're here. You're staying long?"

The group fell into step, though Wally was still the only one talking to him. "Only the night, then we gotta go back to Central City tomorrow."

He whistled. "Central? You're a long way from home."

"Yeah, but it's gonna be totally worth it. You know the Wayne Gala going on tonight?"

"There's a Wayne Gala tonight?"

Bart took this moment to chime in. "You mean you don't know about it? It's gonna be so cool! We got a special invite!"

"Is that so? I can't say I knew about any Galas going on tonight, though that shouldn't surprise ya. I don't really have time to worry about the upper class."

"Oh?" Iris asked, "Why's that?"

"I work in Crime Alley," The name made Barry shift slightly. "so my focus is on the lower classes and how to get kids off the street."

"Crime Alley?" Barry confirmed, "Isn't that where Red Hood is set up."

"You've done your research."

"Gotham's got a reputation."

Iris smacked his arm, but Jason just chuckled. "That she does."

Bart lasted no longer than five minutes of quiet walking before asking, "What can you tell us about Batman?"

"Not much," he answered, "He's basically a ghost. The only people that ever seen him are criminals and Commissioner Gordon."

"What about the other heroes?"

"'Heroes'? Gotham ain't got no heroes. She had knights, sure, but no heroes."

"But, what about Batman and Robin and Nightwing?"

"'Vigilante' would be a better word to describe them. Besides, Nightwing doesn't work in Gotham, he's out in Bludhaven."

"Oh."

The group stopped in front of a hotel, one of the cheaper ones near the airport. Jason held his hand out to the group. "It was nice meeting you guys. I guess I'll be seeing ya tonight?"

Barry shook his hand, then Iris, Bart, and Wally.

"I thought you didn't know about the Gala." Wally gasped dramatically, "Were you lying? To a child?"

Jason scoffed and shoved Wally's shoulder. "You're older than me. And, yes, I did. Not many people know about it outside of rumors, but I'll be there with the security team."

"I thought you were too busy to worry about the one percent?"

"I gotta have money to help out the kids in the Alley." A lie, but they don't need to know that. "Anyway, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you guys."

Bart waved enthusiastically at him. "By, mister!"

He called Tim as soon as he had turned the corner, getting Diana's location. He had a tracker for Cassie and one for Donna.

14:00

Patrol during the daytime was boring, but it presented its own challenges. However, none were so inconvenient as to drop him right in front of not only all four Earth-based Green Lanterns, but also the Atlantean Royal Family.

Honestly, them being in the same place at the same time felt like a joke of some sort. If it is, it's not very funny.

There was a robbery happening in the Narrows at a bodega that Signal likes to go to while on long patrols. It was pure chance that they were stopping by mere moments the robbers entered the building.

Scott, Stewart, Gardener, and Jordan all looked ready to step in from one side of store. The Curry family and Hyde also looked ready to jump in from the opposite side of the store. Their reactions were amusing compared to native Gothamites.

The bell on top of the door chimed again as the door closed behind Signal and Robin.

"You gonna put that gun down, or am I gonna have to take it from ya?" Signal asked, a hand on his hip. Robin said nothing, though he did place his own hand on the sword at his side.

The two robbers both hesitated before putting their weapons down.

Signal smiled. "Good." He turned to Robin. "I'll take these two to the station. Will you pick up our food?" Robin nodded. "Great. My usual, old man?" The older gentleman behind the counter smiled and started to make the food.

With their wrists zip-tied behind their backs, the two robbers were escorted outside and into an alleyway down the street. Signal would place a call to the cops and meet Robin across the street.

Robin waited silently for his and Signals food to be done, very aware of the eight visiting heroes watching him.

The old man finished Signal's sandwich, moving on to make Robins. The Green Lanterns and the Atlanteans were still watching his every move.

"There's been no moves from Arkham," the old man said as he handed Robin the food, "Anything to worry about?"

Robin shook his head. "No. As always, there will be a notice sent out if anything happens on the island."

"I don't know why they don't just destroy the bridge and call it a done deal."

"Resources still need to reach Arkham Island."

"Bah! Let 'em die on that island. If Batman ain't gonna take care of 'em, let 'em take care of themselves."

Robin bristled as he took the food. "I shall inform Batman of your opinions on the matter. However, he is working on a way to rehabilitate the inhabitants of Arkham Asylum."

"There ain't no saving most of 'em."

"Then let us work to save the ones that can be saved." He left after that, having no intentions of continuing a pointless conversation.

He could still feel eight pairs of eyes on him as he left, though they couldn't follow him to the rooftops.

Tt.

16:00

Dick, Steph, and Cass were in the Manor, helping Alfred by keeping Bruce out of the kitchen. The waitstaff, chefs, and security that they'd hired for the night were due to arrive very soon and having Bruce out of the way was best for everyone.

Saying that all three were keeping him occupied was a stretch. Cass and Steph were keeping Bruce confined to the Family Wing of the Manor while Dick handled everything else with Alfred.

When the hired help arrived, Alfred had been confined to the Manor to keep an eye on them while they cooked and got set up. That left Dick to pick up the suits from the tailors and pick up the three bloggers that had been hired to cover the press.

The suits were in the Diamond District at their usual tailor, so there was no hassle in picking them up outside of the stares he got when going in and leaving the store. Nothing he wasn't used to, though.

He was meeting the three press at the train station and taking them to Wayne Manor. Alfred was going to do it, but Jason was wandering Gotham and no one else is allowed in the kitchen.

However, there's a small problem with meeting three members of the press at the train station.

"The Kent Family just got off their train." Tim had sent to the group chat, "They're with the bloggers Buce hired."

Damn it. Is this payback for siccing Wally on Jason?

Dick threw on his Press Smile and walked into the train station. He spotted Clark first, Connor second, then the three press, and Lois and Jon.

The page four reporter from the Daily Planet was locked in conversation with Clark and Lois, though the other two were looking around nervously. He walked right up to the group.

"Mister Kent," he greeted, the group's attention falling to him, "Misses Lane. It's good to see you again."

"Mister Grayson," Lois smiled at him, "I don't suppose you're here to take us to Wayne Manor?"

He sighed exaggeratedly. "No, not this time I'm afraid. However," he turned his attention to the three who weren't family, "I am here to take you three to the Manor."

The Tumblr blogger Bruce had picked out held out their hand to shake. "It's nice to meet you, Mister Grayson, sir."

The one from Reddit also shook his hand, a smile taking over her face. The reporter from the Daily Planet looked like he was itching to take a picture or a statement.

"Please, call me Dick," he smiled, "That goes for you, too, Mister Kent, Misses Lane."

"Call me Clark, then," he said. "This is Connor, my little brother, and Jon, my son."

"Nice to meet you two. However, we must get back to the Manor. I'll see you all tonight?"

"Of course." Lois said pleasantly.

17:00

Everything was set just in time for the Manor gates to open and guests to arrive. Commissioner Gordon was over security, though he'd be inside the ballroom itself.

Everyone had returned to the Manor thirty minutes ago, all getting themselves ready before going to greet their guests at the entrance they'd be using.

Tim was still tracking all of the heroes and their families, relaying their locations until they crossed the property lines.

Jason, Kate, Luke, Steph, Selina, and Barbra were arriving separately and in the middle of everyone else. Selina, Jason, and Barbra would come together; so would Kate, Luke, and Steph.

Slowly and steadily, the ballroom filled with the invited guests.

18:00

The waitstaff moved quickly and professionally, making sure every single person had the meal that had been prepared for them. They were all labeled meticulously with the name of the person and table they were going to, a picture accompanying. No cross contamination in the food, and every dietary restriction - that the Waynes will not be explaining their knowledge of - was placed with the correct person.

As soon as every plate had been settled, dinner officially began.

Part 14 Part 16

#Batman's Biggest Hater #part 15 #bruce wayne is batman's biggest hater #batman is dramatic and i will die on this hill #dc #dcu #justice league #dc comics #pranks #they're a family of detectives #using their powers for good #mostly #we're pretending i know what i'm talking about #i'm not vegan and i did surface level search for the meals #forgive me if i'm wrong

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