#well... its a NEW school... means i get a fresh start with fresh faces and people...

[astro-inthestars]

AUAUGHHHGHHHAHHHGHHUHHUHGHHH

My school starts tomorrow show's joever :(

[goldfades]

★ AND YOU SAY I ABANDONED THE SHIP / BUT I WAS GOING DOWN WITH IT / MY WHITE KNUCKLE DYING GRIP / SO HOW MUCH SAD DID YOU THINK I HAD, DID YOU THINK I HAD IN ME? / HOW MUCH TRAGEDY? / JUST HOW LOW DID YOU THINK I'D GO? ─── PB⁵ (part 1/2)

❪ requested -> paige and ex gf!reader that plays on iowa where theres a lot of tension on the court bc they ended on rough terms but u can see that they still care abt each other yet have to prioritize the game // hii could u write for paige x ex gf iowa!reader where they play against each other in the final four and everyone can tell theres sm tension on the court between them bc they ended on rough terms ? they still care abt each other a lot but r forced to put those feelings aside for the sake of the game (but they def had a talk afterwards) - u can make it so that iowa still won or uconn won i think either one would be interesting ! tysm ❫ part two!!!!!!!!!!

─ warnings | ANGSTTTTT!!!!!! mentions of transfers, fighting, paige being a BITCHHHH LIKE so mean (but its for the plot trust), banter at the end, mention of cc and kate martin, jealous!paige

─ ev's notes | tried a new format for the third little part thingy idk if yall like it but lmk (like the iowa game part)

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JUNE 2022

Y/N L/N ANNOUNCES ENTERS THE TRANSFER PORTAL AFTER ALLEGED DISAGREEMENT OVER PLAYING TIME. In a surprising turn of events, UConn defensive star Y/N L/N has announced her decision to enter the transfer portal.

Despite the official narrative focusing on playing time, insiders report that L/N's decision is rooted in a desire to find a new environment where she can heal and focus on her game without the added stress of her recent breakup with Paige Bueckers, another star player for the Huskies. The emotional toll of the split has reportedly affected her performance and well-being, prompting her to make a fresh start at another school.

UConn’s coaching staff and teammates have expressed their support for L/N, acknowledging the challenges she has faced. "Y/N is an incredible athlete and person," said Coach Geno Auriemma. "We respect her decision and wish her nothing but the best in her future endeavors."

As L/N navigates this difficult period, she remains committed to her basketball career and is looking forward to finding a new team where she can continue to shine both on and off the court. While the specifics of her next move remained uncertain for a short time, it has now been confirmed that she will be transferring to Iowa.

Fans and fellow players have taken to social media to show their support for L/N, emphasizing the importance of mental health and personal well-being in the demanding world of collegiate sports. Iowa's coaching staff has expressed their excitement about welcoming L/N to the team. "We are thrilled to have Y/N join us," said Coach Lisa Bluder. "She brings exceptional talent and experience to our program, and we are committed to supporting her both on and off the court."

As Y/N L/N begins her new journey with the Iowa Hawkeyes, there is no doubt that she will continue to be a formidable presence in collegiate basketball. Her resilience and determination promise to make her time at Iowa just as remarkable as her tenure at UConn.

──

"So you're really doing it?" Paige's expression was unimpressed, bordering disgusted as she pushed herself between you and the door.

You sniffled, glaring at the blonde. "Get out of my way, Paige."

She crossed her arms, standing firm. "So that's it? You're just going to run away? Because of us?"

"It's not about that," you snapped, the weight of your duffel bag making your shoulder ache. "It's about me needing to be okay. And I can't do that here."

Paige's eyes softened for a moment, but she didn't budge. "Y/N, we're a team. You can't just leave us like this. Leave me like this."

You shook your head, frustration boiling over. "This isn't about the team. This is about us, Paige. I can't be around you every day, pretending like everything's fine when it's not. I'm not okay with being on the same team as you, do you get that, Paige?"

Paige's expression flickered with a mix of anger and something else — maybe hurt. "You think Iowa is going to magically fix everything? Running away doesn't solve anything, I promise you that."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "This isn't running away. This is me choosing to put myself first for once. I have to do this."

"What happened to loyalty? As soon as things get hard, you're running away! How does that make sense?" Paige let out a bitter laugh as you bit your lip, trying your best not to blow up. "God, what is wrong with you?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "You shouldn't be talking about loyalty, Paige! You left me, remember? We've been through-"

"Don't you dare say it, Y/N." Paige's voice was sharp, but you pressed on, the dam of emotions breaking.

"We've been through so much together, and you just threw it all away! You can't expect me to stay here and pretend like everything's fine when it's not."

Paige's eyes blazed with anger. "Oh, don't turn this around on me! You think you're the only one who got hurt? You think it was easy for me to make that decision? You're such a selfish-"

"Selfish?" you interrupted, your voice rising, ringing throughout the locker room. "I'm selfish for wanting to protect my mental health? I'm selfish for needing to get away from the constant reminder of what we had and lost?"

"You're selfish for abandoning the team! For abandoning me!" Paige shouted, her voice cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's going to be like without you here?"

"You don't get to play the victim," you shot back, tears streaming down your face as you sniffled. "You're the one who ended things. You don't get to decide how I cope with that."

Paige took a step closer, her face contorted with rage. "Fine, go to Iowa. Run away like a little pussy. But don't you dare come back and expect everything to be okay. Don't you dare think you can just waltz back into our lives when it suits you."

"That's not what I'm doing," you retorted, your voice shaking as you averted your gaze. "I need this, Paige. I need to get away from you."

"Then go!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the empty locker room. "But don't expect me to forgive you for this. For leaving when things got tough. For being a pussy."

"Oh, really?" You laughed, anger filling your body. "Fuck you. I thought we could be mature, but apparently we can't."

Paige's eyes flashed with fury. "Mature? You're the one who's bailing when things get hard! That's not mature, that's cowardly."

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure. "You think this is easy for me? You think I want to leave? I'm doing this because I have to, not because I want to. I'm trying to survive, Paige!"

"Survive?" she scoffed, stepping closer. "What about me? What about the team? We need you, and you're just walking away."

"I'm not your crutch," you shot back. "You have no right to make me feel guilty for taking care of myself. This isn't just about you, Paige. This is about my sanity, my well-being."

Paige's face twisted with a mix of anger and hurt. "Fine, go ahead and leave. But don't expect me to be here waiting for you when you decide to come back."

"I don't expect anything from you anymore," you replied coldly. "I'm done expecting anything from you."

Paige's expression darkened further, and she took another step closer, her voice lowering to a venomous whisper. "You know what? Maybe it's good you're leaving. No one needs your drama and bullshit. You're not as important as you think you are."

The words stung, cutting deeper than you expected. But Paige wasn't finished. "And let's be real, Y/N, Iowa's not going to "fix" you. You're still going to be the same fucked-up person, running from your problems. Maybe if you weren't so broken, none of this would have happened."

You felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Her words were like a knife twisting in your gut. You blinked back tears, feeling your heart shatter into even smaller pieces. "You... you have no idea what I've been through," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "To get here, to prove myself to everyone."

"Clearly, I don't," Paige shot back, her voice full of disdain. "Because if I did, maybe I would've seen what a complete waste of time it was to care about you."

The finality of her words was like a slap in the face. You stood there, stunned, feeling the weight of her anger and your own heartbreak. Without another word, you turned and walked out of the locker room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air did little to soothe the burning pain in your chest. Iowa was waiting, but now it felt more like an escape from a nightmare than a fresh start. You knew you could never go back, not after what had been said. The bridge between you and Paige was not just burned — it was incinerated.

Driving away, tears blurred your vision. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead seemed daunting. But one thing was clear: you were done with Paige, done with the hold she had over you. It was time to find a place where you could heal, far away from the person who had just torn your heart apart.

──

NOVEMBER 2022

"Welcome, everyone, to what promises to be an exciting game tonight!" The commentator's voice boomed through the arena. "We have Iowa facing off against Ohio State, and all eyes are on Y/N L/N, the transfer from UConn. Let's see how she gels with her new teammates, especially standout stars Caitlin Clark and Kate Martin."

"Y/N L/N, the former UConn star who made headlines with her controversial transfer, had seamlessly integrated herself into the Iowa lineup. Her defensive prowess, combined with her sharp shooting skills, had brought a new dimension to the team's gameplay."

"And there she is, folks! Y/N L/N, number 89, making her presence felt on both ends of the court. She's been a force to be reckoned with tonight, shutting down opponents left and right while sinking those crucial shots when her team needs them most."

From the moment the game tipped off, Y/N was in her element. She moved with a grace and confidence that captivated the audience, her presence on the court undeniable. Within minutes, it was clear that she had found her rhythm with her new team.

"Clark passes the ball to L/N... she fakes, drives to the basket... and what a beautiful layup! L/N puts Iowa on the board first with an impressive move."

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Y/N's teammates swarmed her, sharing her excitement. Clark gave her an encouraging pat on the back as she jogged back on defense.

"That's the kind of play Iowa fans were hoping to see from L/N," the commentator continued. "She brings a fresh energy and versatility to this team."

As the game progressed, Y/N's synergy with her teammates became even more apparent. She seamlessly integrated into the flow of Iowa’s offense, making smart passes and setting effective screens.

"Clark with the ball now, looking for an opening... she finds L/N at the top of the key. L/N drives, kicks it out to Martin on the wing... and it's a three! Kate Martin nails the shot, and L/N gets the assist."

Kate Martin and Caitlin Clark were all smiles, high-fiving Y/N as they took a moment to savor the play. The three of them were quickly becoming a formidable trio on the court, their chemistry undeniable.

"Y/N L/N is not just playing well—she's thriving," the commentator observed. "Her ability to read the game and make those around her better is exactly what Iowa needed."

In the second half, Y/N continued to shine, her defensive efforts just as impressive as her offensive contributions. She hustled for rebounds, dove for loose balls, and her tenacity was infectious.

"Ohio State struggling to get past L/N's defense... and she steals it! L/N on the fast break now... passes to Clark, who finishes with a perfect layup! What a dynamic duo!"

As the final buzzer sounded, Iowa secured a decisive victory. The scoreboard read 82-67, and Y/N's performance was a significant part of that success.

"And that's the game! Iowa takes the win, and what a debut for Y/N L/N. She finishes with 12 points, 7 assists, and 5 rebounds. An all-around stellar performance."

"And there you have it, folks! A stunning performance from the Iowa Hawkeyes, led by the dynamic trio of L/N, Martin, and Clark. With players like these, the sky's the limit for this team, and the rest of the league better watch out!"

As Y/N waved to the cheering crowd, she couldn't help but smile. This was the fresh start she needed, and it was only the beginning.

──

"Great game tonight, ladies!" The reporter started, a broad smile on her face. "Y/N, this was your debut with Iowa, and you were nothing short of fantastic out there. How does it feel to be part of this team?"

You smiled, your eyes twinkling with a mix of relief and joy. "It feels incredible. The support from the coaching staff, my teammates, and the fans has been amazing. I couldn't have asked for a better start here at Iowa."

Caitlin, sitting to your right, nodded enthusiastically. "Y/N has been a fantastic addition. Her energy and skills have really brought a new dynamic to our team."

Kate Martin chimed in, a playful grin on her face. "Yeah, she fits right in. It's like she's been here all along, like seriously."

The reporter continued, "Y/N, you and Caitlin seemed to have an almost telepathic connection on the court tonight. Can you tell us a bit about how you've built such strong chemistry so quickly?"

You glanced at Caitlin, who gave you an encouraging nod. "Honestly, it's been pretty natural. Cait is such a smart player, and she makes it easy to connect and play off each other. We've been putting in a lot of extra time together, and it's really paying off."

Caitlin added, "Y/N is a hard worker, and her basketball IQ is off the charts. We clicked from day one, and it's only getting better."

Kate, not wanting to be left out, jumped in with a laugh. "Don't forget about me! The three of us have really gelled as a unit. We push each other to be better every day."

You put your arm around the blonde, earning a laugh from her. "Don't worry, Katie we wouldn't leave you out."

The reporter smiled, clearly enjoying the dynamic. "It's great to see such strong teamwork and friendship! What's next for this Iowa team? How are you planning to build on tonight's performance?"

You looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "We're just going to keep working hard, stay focused, and take it one game at a time. Tonight was a great win, but we know there's a lot of work ahead of us."

Caitlin nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. We have high expectations for ourselves, and we know we can achieve great things if we stick together and keep pushing."

Kate leaned in, her expression serious but with a hint of a smile. "We're aiming high. We want to make a deep run this season, and with Y/N on board, we feel like we can compete with anyone."

The interview wrapped up, and as the cameras turned off, the three players shared a group hug, your bond clear for everyone to see.

As they headed back to the locker room, Caitlin threw an arm around your shoulders. "You did great tonight. Welcome to the team, officially."

Kate added, "Yeah, we're glad to have you, Y/N. And this is just the beginning, trust."

──

"The fuck," Paige grumbled as she watched the post-game interview on TV, bitterness clear on her face. Nika and Aubrey exchanged amused glances as they watched Paige, who's eyes were glued on the screens.

Despite the fallout with Paige, you were still close with the rest of the team. You wouldn't let Paige get in between you and your old team, no matter the circumstances.

Paige's gaze finally averted from the screen, looking at the girls. "Does this shit not bother you guys like, not even a little bit?"

"Nah, P." Nika responded as she sighed, leaning back on the couch. "We're proud of her."

Aubrey continued, her tone gentle but firm. "I mean, you guys dated and shit. There's bound to be some bitter feelings, y'know."

Paige scoffed, crossing her arms tightly. "Yeah, well, it still sucks seeing her over there, acting like everything's fine."

Nika gave Paige a sympathetic look. "I get it, Paige. It's hard seeing someone you care about move on, especially after everything you two went through. But she's doing what's best for her. You have to respect that."

Aubrey nodded in agreement. "And honestly, she's killing it over there. Seeing her happy and thriving makes us happy, too. It's not about choosing sides—it's about supporting our friend."

"Did you hear her?" Their words went in one ear and out the other, her gaze turning back to the TV. "Oh Katie! We'd never leave you out. Like shut up," she mocked as Aubrey let out a laugh.

It was obvious she was jealous, it was a rare sight for the usually, confident blonde. Nika and Aubrey exchanged another glance, this time with knowing smiles. They could see right through Paige's facade.

"Wow, Paige, are you actually jealous?" Aubrey teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm not jealous," she protested, though her tone lacked conviction. "I just don't like seeing her act all buddy-buddy with them."

"Sure," Nika said, leaning back and stretching. "It's just because she's happy and thriving without you, right?"

Paige shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. "Shut up, Nika."

Aubrey laughed again, patting Paige on the shoulder. "It's okay to admit you miss her, Paige. We all miss her. But she's doing what she needs to do, and we have to respect that."

"I do respect that." Paige interjected, her voice defensive. The three of them quieted down, continuing watching the TV. "I guess she has a thing for blondes," she mumbled under her breathe.

"Come on, Paige!" Nika groaned as Aubrey began to laugh uncontrollably. "Stop encouraging her, Aubrey."

Paige rolled her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips despite herself. "What? It's true. First me, now Kate. Seems like she has a type. Blonde, 6ft and hoopers, I mean..."

Aubrey wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. "Oh my god, Paige. You're insane."

Nika shook her head, trying to suppress her own laughter. "First, you are not 6ft. And maybe it's time to focus on your game and let Y/N do her thing. You can't keep dwelling on this."

"Yes, I am! With shoes, I am." Paige sighed, the humor fading from her expression. "And I know. It's just hard, you know? Seeing her so happy without me. Without us."

Aubrey softened, leaning in to give Paige a reassuring pat on the back. "You'll get there. It just takes time. And who knows, maybe this will be a good thing for both of you in the long run."

Paige nodded, her eyes drifting back to the screen where Y/N was still beaming in the post-game interview. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Nika stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Alright, enough of this. Let's hit the gym. We have a season to focus on, and we need you at your best, Paige."

Paige took a deep breath, standing up as well. "You're right. Let's go."

Aubrey joined them, a supportive smile on her face. "That's the spirit. And remember, we're here for you, no matter what."

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[starseungs]

our love untold. hhj.

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader — for those who grew up loved, it eventually becomes a norm to the point that the nuances between its types become untold.

genre/s — fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, college au, fine arts student!hyunjin • 3.1k words

warning/s — miscommunication as a result of no communication, children being mean for no reason lol, not much actually

note — #3 on the your love through the ages series | gave hyunjin the confession of a lifetime so look forward to that ... i want what they have </3

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a constant in your life. For as long as you could remember, a life without him was practically nonexistent. You had nothing against it, though. Spending your everydays with Hyunjin was a delight. The bond between you two was so strong that your families had no choice but to also become friends just so that they could finally satisfy both of your constant needs to be around each other. 

Fortunately, you didn’t have to do much for that setting to work out well since your families clicked in an instant. A little too well, in fact, that you may have doubted its authenticity more than once or twice during the span of your lived life. Hyunjin had his fair share of those thoughts alongside you as you caught both of your parents eating lunch together on a random Tuesday afternoon—notably without the both of you.

Granted, you should’ve already seen that this was going to happen. You and Hyunjin grew up getting significant amounts of emotional support from your parents, who had big hearts holding lots of love to share. Naturally, birds of a feather would end up flocking together; which could also exactly be said about your dynamic with your best friend. With the way you were brought up, it was almost impossible for you to turn out any more different than the ones who raised you—to which you, to no one’s surprise, did end up adopting their tendency to express love easily towards others. 

If only your younger counterpart knew how hard it was actually going to be to feel reciprocated in society.

You remember the scene like it was just yesterday, with the feeling of the soft play sand being molded by your little hands still fresh in your mind. The local playground sandbox was five-year-old you’s favorite spot in the whole world, just right beside your family home’s living room. It was a place where you felt at ease, happily sculpting clumsily shaped masterpieces from the slightly damp medium as your parents sat on a bench a few meters away, joyfully taking the opportunity to have some time with each other. 

On a normal day, things would stay that way until right before three o'clock, when one of your parents would scoop you up to go home (the parent was often your father, who pitifully had a massive losing streak on rock paper scissors). However, that particular day was unlike any other day you’ve had so far.

The anomalies started with two kids looming over you, their eyes shining with a mischievous glint. Despite the number of times you’ve gone to the playground, you have never actually interacted with the other kids there. Your family had just moved to the area three months ago, and you were still yet to enter an actual school where you could familiarize yourself with nearby children. 

While you did have thoughts of approaching the ones you saw often in the playground, your first attempts at doing so ended less than ideal, with the kids being uncomfortable with you being someone new. Due to that, you stuck by yourself for a while with the mindset that you’d be friends with whoever wanted to approach you instead. And that was why seeing those two children standing next to your sand sculptures instantly put a smile on your face. 

Their words started off innocent—simply asking why you were playing all alone. Yet when you joyfully explained why, your expectations for the interaction took a wrong turn. The two kids started teasing you, saying that you must’ve been really lame for no one to even want to become your friend. 

At first, you were mad. You wanted to let them know that you tried your best to make friends, up until you realized that it was you who wanted to be friends with them too, to which you started to become self-conscious. Thoughts like ‘what if they’re right?’ spiraled in your little mind, making you unable to say much in defense. The last straw was when one of them kicked the little sand house (which, in truth, looked more like a square hill) you were working on, making beads of tears decorate your waterline.

However, the tears didn’t actually drop until a pitched voice of a boy called out to the three of you staying at the sandbox. You watched as the new face marched in a determined manner towards all of you, only stopping in front of the two kids who teased you. Your glistening eyes watched in fascination as he scolded the other two, telling them that they were being mean to you. Thankfully, the whole exchange ended without much issue—the kids then muttered a short apology before scurrying away. The slightly taller boy stared at you before bending down to plop himself in front of your now-ruined sand house.

“Are you ok?” He says, his gaze now locked at the pile of sand between the two of you. 

You could only nod enthusiastically, again happy to have someone talking to you positively. “Yeah,” you said while scooping up a small amount of the fallen sand. “I wanted to play with them, though.”

The boy before you beamed. “I’ll play with you instead!” He reaches for a handful of sand. “My name is Hyunjin. I like the sandbox too.”

That was how your parents found you a little while later, excitedly squealing while clinging to Hyunjin with a vice grip. His parents soon followed suit, joining yours in watching him grin while listening to you plan to build a model of your dream home together with sand. Numbers and words of appreciation were exchanged, officially starting the days with Hyunjin as your closest friend.

Being best friends with Hyunjin was basically like having someone attached to your hip, with the only difference being that you also wanted to be attached to his. If possible, you liked to do everything together—there were meals that were shared at the same table, outings that were done with both of your families, and schoolwork that you did together without even needing a word of agreement. Days, hours, and seconds with Hyunjin were a norm in your life, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Growing up, you never really questioned the comments thrown at the two of you. With how close you two were but looking miles different from each other to be relatives, the common conclusion people normally had of your relationship with Hyunjin was a romantic one. He was often attentive when it came to you—always bringing you snacks for lunch, spontaneous gifts just because something reminded him of you, and carrying your bag like it was the most normal thing in the world. This was often dismissed by him, though, which made you follow suit. After all, you yourself couldn’t see where the thought even stemmed from. You did acts of service for him too. What mattered the most was that you liked Hyunjin as he was, so hanging out with him constantly was reasonable in your eyes.

Well, that was until your first year in college, years after your initial meeting.

“Do you ever think it’s odd?” You start carefully, slowly pulling your hands away from his face after smoothing out his skincare mask. Hyunjin cracks open his left eye to glance up at you from his head’s position on your lap.

“What is?”

You motioned toward the situation you two were in. “That we still hang out like this. Even though we’re not kids anymore.” Hyunjin evidently frowned underneath the mask, slightly creating folds that showed his displeasure.

“No?” He replies, almost offended. “Why would I think that?”

There was truth in his words. Just like he said, why would he be offended? The two of you were never bothered by what others thought before, so why start now? You pursed your lips. Perhaps you were the only one suddenly having an issue.

It all started when you went out for dinner with a couple people from your department. The table talk was just as usual—until they mentioned Hyunjin. Some girls you went to class with expressed their jealousy towards your relationship with your ‘boyfriend', which they described as ideal. Your attempts at correcting them only ended up with you in the hotseat, being grilled like the meat everyone was eating at the moment. There was no way he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, they said. The dynamic they’ve observed so far between you two was too much to be platonic, they added. Their words only added fuel to the fire that was your frenzied state when they asked you to confirm specific scenarios that had happened with Hyunjin, to which they snapped their fingers and yelled out that it was clearly something lovers do. 

But what was exactly so wrong with best friends still having sleepovers in their early twenties? Was there a problem with the two of you making plans just for the two of you that lasted the whole day? So what if he had the tendency to buy you both matching items? Sure, his parents call you often to check in, but isn’t that normal? You’ve watched how your parents treated their other friends with love in similar ways during (limited) times you’ve met them too, so why were you now so conscious of everything Hyunjin did ever since that dinner?

“I don’t know,” you said meekly. “It’s just that I feel like I’m taking too much of your time. These are things you should be doing with your significant other, not your childhood friend.”

When Hyunjin scoffs at your words, your eyes widen. “Well, I don’t have a significant other, and I’m doing this,” he points to his facemask, “with you right now. You can worry about it when the time comes.”

You didn’t know why, but somewhere deep in your heart, you never wanted that time to ever come.

Life always comes with surprises, though. The moment you unconsciously dreaded came sooner than you expected it to—just a whole year after your conversation over skincare in your tiny apartment room. Your fear came in the form of a student shifting to Hyunjin’s major, her skills catching his attention that was normally on the both of you. First came the comments, with Hyunjin complimenting her outputs in their classes together, telling you that the new girl had serious talent and how she should’ve majored in fine arts from the beginning. Next came his gaze; curious eyes always landing on her whenever she appeared in the vicinity you two were in. A growing feeling clawed at the pits of your stomach that made you nauseous every time you saw his interest cement on her. 

How amazing was that for you, because now you had to distance yourself from someone who was basically your other half, just because you couldn’t handle the ugly thoughts you had for your best friend’s happiness. The last thing you wanted was to hold Hyunjin down—he deserved to freely like who liked, and decide who he wanted to be with as he wished. And until your brain gets the memo to agree with it, you were going to stay out of his sight for as long as possible.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was a complete mess. The poor man was lost; the past few nights were spent pondering over what he could’ve done wrong for you to avoid him so obviously like this. It had only been two weeks, but Hyunjin felt as if you had gone M.I.A. for two years instead. He had never gone this long without you, always making sure to contact you as frequently as he could when physically apart. To be fair, you still did answer to his texts, even if they were riddled with ice and coldly cut short. You had gotten skilled at dodging his visits too; always either out of your apartment or having found different routes out of your department’s building when he stubbornly waited outside. A few of your class friends gave him looks of pity whenever they saw him still adamant to see you, telling him to hang in there and that lovers’ quarrels don’t last that long.

Lovers. That was a familiar description Hyunjin has heard over the years of your friendship. He had always denied them politely out of respect for you, but they were always kept in the corners of his mind. Truth be told, the thought confused him endlessly. What was it exactly that others saw in the way he acted that he didn’t? His parents always told him to treat everyone he appreciated with love, and that he did—especially with you. He’s seen the way his father showed his appreciation for his mother and aimed to imitate that (yes, his father loved his mother romantically, but his father also gave gifts to his friends, so what was so different?), but all that ever did was bring suspicion over you two. 

But you were happy with his acts of care, and it made him happy too. Shouldn’t that be the only thing that matters? Clearly, not with the way he was stuck in front of his blank canvas, the eerie color of plain white glaring at him to complete his painting project. Except that Hyunjin found himself completely unable to do so. His mind was barren, with not a single inspiration in mind. And this worried him.

On any other day, he was what you would call the epitome of a creative soul. He saw the world around him in a naturally imaginative way, easily piecing stories in his head from the smallest of things. It was the same reason why he chose to be in fine arts, majoring in studio arts, where he could relay his own vision. In short, Hyunjin had no clue as to why he was even struggling this much. He found himself comparing his skills to those of the new student in his department once again. Oh, how he wishes he could go and ask them for advice—her work served as an ignition for him to do better. 

As one of the best students in the program, he found himself seeing her as a rival of sorts. Not anything negative, though. A healthy one-sided rivalry, if you will. Groaning, he shifts his gaze from the canvas to give his eyes a break, casually scanning his previous works propped up in a nearby corner. As he continued to work his way through them from afar, his mind floated over to think of you. 

In that split second, something seemed to click in his brain.

You watched your clock tick at an even pace, the hands displaying the ungodly time that was judging you for still being awake. Granted, being awake at two in the morning was miles better than still being awake at four, which was just asking for an eventual headache since you still had class in the morning. The past few days have felt odd, to say the least. Despite knowing exactly why that was, you refused to acknowledge it—still hung up on the thought that you should get rid of whatever you were feeling before you would face Hyunjin again. Yet, it was times of the day like these when you wondered how he was doing without you. Probably still well, right? If it’s Hyunjin, then he would have no problem getting along just fine with other people.

A frantic knock on your door made you jump out of your thoughts with the way it echoed through the silent space. Like any other person would, you were automatically on guard. Who in their right mind would visit you without warning in the depths of the night? It was only when you saw your phone turn on with a message notification that you scurried to fling the door open.

“Hyunjin!” You fussed over him, gripping his arms firmly to give him a thorough lookover. “Is everything okay? Are you alright? Did something happen? Does something hurt—no, did something hurt you?” The words seemed to roll off your tongue so easily, preventing you from snapping out of your worries to see what expression he had on. All your mind was telling you was to find a way to chase whatever problem he had far, far away from here, where it could hurt him. But your rambling came to a halt when you felt his body slump against you, feeling the way he shook as suppressed sobs were forced out of him. Alarm bells immediately rang in your head.

“Let’s go inside first—”

“I’m so sorry,” he hiccuped. “I’m so sorry. Really sorry, Y/N. I don’t even know if I’m apologizing for what I’ve done for you to avoid me like this, or for not even knowing why you’re avoiding me in the first place, but I’m so sorry.”

“Hyune, no—”

“I know I can be an idiot at times, but I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you like this,” he said, still crying his heart out. “I was struggling to find something to paint about for my project earlier, and I can’t believe it took me this long to even figure it out. I can’t go on with meaning in my life without you, Y/N. You’re everything to me. You’re my world, my muse, and my light. For the longest time, you have been, and I would even risk saying that you have since the moment we met on that sandbox. All that I am has pieces of you deeply imbedded in my soul, and the reason why I see my surroundings in vibrant colors. Everything reminds me of you, and us, and all the times we’ve spent together and losing you would be the same as losing me. Y/N, I love you in a way I could never give to others—”

“Hyunjin.” You cupped his face, coaxing him to breathe. An imaginary string inside of you stretched and tightened as you looked at his mesmerized face, looking at you like you had hung the moon up in the sky. His eyes showed an emotion you were well acquainted with, yet the intensity and fervor burning inside were unfamiliar to the ones you had felt before. 

This was definitely love. And it was the type of love you had spent the past couple of years pondering. The answer finally came to you. Hyunjin breathes.

“—It’s you, and always will be.”

You closed the gap, the touch of both your lips saying more than what was ever confessed from when you were five to the present.

It was your love untold.

SERIES TAGLIST ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @djeniryuu @lixxpix @xocandyy @heaveniseverywhere @kayleefriedchicken

[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (Previous) (Next)

(As promised Damian falls in love at first sight!)

Minutes ticked by like hours as his English teacher droned on about topics he’d learned years ago. Surface-level information dumbed down to its simplest form. Todd had already given him the assigned book years ago. A classic written sometime in the 1950s. He’d claimed it’d be a book he could relate to. He’d quizzed himself, writing an essay to prove he actually read it when Todd came around again. 

He guessed that’s why when the discussions of symbolism and deeper meanings started, his interest plummeted. He focused on a worksheet, only half listening as the teacher read aloud. Vocabulary and its context, all of it so dull. painfully easy, but still father wouldn’t allow him to skip grades, nor would the school. Something about him having “Poor social skills,”

Tch, lies and slander. It wasn’t his fault his classmates were too cowardly to speak to him face to face. They’d been the ones to label him as intimidating and cold. If not being a spineless pushover made him intolerable, then he didn't want to be friendly. He wouldn’t allow himself to be taken advantage of, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone talk down to him without facing the consequences. 

He didn't need to be social with these hooligans. A waste of time! Plus, he’s certain everyone in class already held a certain distaste for him. It’d be better if he was homeschooled, but father said he needed to be seen by the public so the media wouldn't talk. Journalists and tabloid writers were like vultures they'd squawk regardless if he was in school or not. Father hadn't seen his argument valid so he was stuck with yet another year of this dull nonsense.

A new transfer student from a small town in Illinois should be here today. An outsider spending a whole seven months in Gotham, it should be equal parts entertaining as it’d be inconvenient. The backlash that’d hit them if they let said transfer student die within city borders would be tremendous. He could only hope this Daniel Fenton wasn’t just late and instead backed out like any sensible person would.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case as the teacher stepped outside, coming back with a smile of faux sweetness on their face, waving her hand, signaling someone inside.

A boy with eyes blue like sapphire stones stepped into the classroom. His shoulders lax but the way he fidgeted in place screamed he’d rather be anywhere but here. His features were soft, electrical scaring running down the left side of his face, creeping down the boy’s chin and neck. Hair pitch black with short splotches of white-ish gray framed his face. A small silver necklace shaped like Saturn hung from his neck, a clear dress code violation, but clearly, he hadn’t been accosted for it yet. Their teacher encouraged him to introduce himself.

“Hi, My name’s Danny and I hope I don’t die here,” Daniel joked, his posture jovial despite the morbidity of his words.

“Though, I wouldn’t be shocked if I did,” He finished, earning a quiet chuckle from those who could see the boy’s scars. 

Daniel glanced around the front row, eyes landing on the empty spot beside him. Daniel quickly took this spot without hesitation, ignoring the multiple students who waved him over with a simple gesture to the left side of his face.

With a closer view of Daniel's left eye, he could see the slight milky discoloration of the pupil and iris. He's likely blind in that eye, but the circumstances of him being born with the impairment are unlikely, judging by the damage around his eye socket. It had healed well for what he could only infer was a grievous injury. The scar tissue looked fresh, no older than a year or so, signaling this partial blindness was relatively new.

He seemed relieved that the teacher was reading out loud like nobody had offered him any sort of accommodation for his disability. Considering Daniel came from a small town in Illinois, he doubted any school accommodations were made for him besides maybe a week or so off school when he was recovering. Gotham wasn’t much better, but Father poured a decent amount into the city’s healthcare and educational systems. 

“Tuck your necklace under your shirt,” He whispered to his new seatmate when the teacher turned her back. “It breaks the dress code, you’ll never get it back if a teacher spots it,” A warning deadly serious, a bit stern for something as frivolous as a piece of jewelry, but Daniel looked as if that simple warning had saved his life. Daniel shoved the necklace under his dress shirt with alarming speed, tucking the thin, bronze chain beneath his collar, making the boy’s neck look deceptively bare. 

They both continued their work in silence, mutual respect between the two of them to stay out of each other’s way. When Daniel’s pencil lead broke, Damian offered him a sharpener. When their teacher called on him despite his hand being down, Danny answered instead, giddy that “he” was called on. Giving the English teacher the easy choice of admitting she was targeting students or playing the part of a welcoming teacher eager to have the half-blind kid engage with her class.

Daniel did it on purpose too, that was sure. He made class time more bearable that was certain as well. The way his seatmate engaged the subject in an intelligent manner despite frequent mutters of English not “being his subject,” was admirable.

When brought into discussion, Daniel meshed with his new peers relatively quickly, quick to snap in with a clever quip when the opportunity arose. He was by no means a social butterfly but fell into the rhythm of a conversation with practiced ease. 

Often, when not writing he fidgeted, picking at black and white polish on his nails or twirling a pencil between two fingers. He’d rest his face on his palm and pursed his lips when confused. Though his mannerisms were somewhat awkward, some might call them cute.

It wasn‘t long until class was over, the bell calling all the students to coagulate by the door, slowly filing into the hallway. All except him and Daniel, who stared at a schedule and a map with furrowed brows. They shared their next class too, an idea that filled him with an odd giddiness.

Damian pulled a copy of his own schedule from his bag, tapping Daniels's shoulder and showing him their matching second-hour classes.

“It would be easier if we went together,” 

Daniel smiled, canines sharpened to a point. His heart boomed in his chest, a strange but…Pleasant experience. It was too early to tell, but he thinks he’ll enjoy having Daniel here for the next seven months.

[lovesickonmybed]

What if Bully Ellie and the reader are exes and now Ellie just wants to make the reader's life miserable 💀💀 I will pay for it, bc I know she will be so mean to her but the moment a new girl wants to make a move on reader Ellie will lose it

better than me | 18+

masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | bully!ex!ellie x ex!reader

synopsis | ellie isn't handling your break up well, her jealousy and anger taking over in the worst ways

warnings | 18+ MDNI!! wedgies, bullying, insults, jealousy, toxic behavior, sexual context, masturbation.

word count | 2k

a/n | honestly i'm kind of debating turning this into a miniseries because i really like this concept and kind of want to see where i could take it but let me know what y'all think!! i wrote this in the middle of the night with zero editing so if you see any mistakes no you don't. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

You and Ellie had a very messy breakup, one she couldn’t get over. So she started bullying you. It started your freshman year of college, only two weeks after the breakup. Ellie had gone up to you in the locker room at the school's gym. She looked at you with an angry glare, “Move, you’re in my way.” She glares at you with her arms crossed, she had never looked at you like that before. 

“Just go around, you can literally climb over the bench. I don’t wanna talk to you,” you say, the breakup still fresh for you. 

Ellie shoves you back lightly, not breaking her glare, “No. You’re gonna move.” This exchange had garnered them a crowd, a lot of the girls in the room glancing over at the pair. Ellie is stubborn but so are you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? This isn’t you, Ellie!” You exclaim, not even caring if you’re causing a scene. You’ve never seen this side of her and it upsets you. You’re not even expecting it when she grabs you by your shoulders and spins you around, quickly pushing you face first against the cold metal lockers. She grabs the waistband of your gym shorts and pulls it away from your body, giving her access to your underwear. She wraps her fingers around your waistband and you beg as soon as you feel her cold fingers brush against your skin. 

“Ellie, whatever you’re about to do, don't do it, please! I-I’m sorry! I should’ve moved!” You plead with her to literally save your own ass. It doesn’t work. She grips the waistband, pressing her arm hard against your back to keep you in place.

“You should’ve listened to me when I told you to fucking move,” Ellie borderline snarls before pulling hard on your waistband, the cotton fabric of your panties forcing its way up and between your cheeks. You yelp in pain and instinctively try to run, causing Ellie to pull even harder, forcing you onto your toes in seconds. You try every trick in the book to escape the pain but it’s no use, she has you right where she wants you and you’re not going anywhere.

She pulls and pulls at your panties, hiking them up to your shoulders before letting go of your waistband, laughing when you whine as it snaps back against you. She continues to hold your body against the locker, pressing herself against you and gripping your hair painfully. “You better listen to me next time I tell you to do something you fucking loser,” she threatens before letting you go and shoving past you to get to her locker. You look around the locker room with embarrassment, looking down at the ground and trying to hide your face with your hair as you grab the rest of your things from your locker before running out of the locker room and back to your dorm. 

You encounter her again a week later, you’re out in the quad talking with a girl from one of your classes, her name is Layla. You’re both sitting on a blanket she brought, talking about an assignment, cracking jokes here and there. You’re having a great time, smiling bigger than you had in a while, cheeks flushed when she compliments you. It’s bliss until Ellie comes along. She’s walking back to her dorm after an annoyingly long lecture, she’s got an overpriced iced coffee in her hand that she bought from the campus coffee shop and a pissed off look on her face. 

She’s speed walking, wanting to get away from everyone and everything when she spots you and Layla. You’re leaning in and giggling, smiling like you did when you were with Ellie. It makes her heart ache and before she even realizes it she’s walking over to the both of you. Her mouth feels dry as she’s standing in front of you two. She looks down and feels nauseous as you both look up at her.

“Uh, can I help you?” You ask coldly, glaring up at her. She looks nervous, and it’s slightly amusing to you to see her like this. Your date grabs your hand reassuringly, aware of the incident that had happened a few weeks ago. 

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, her mouth moving quicker than her brain. She mentally facepalms after realizing what she’s said. It’s obvious what you’re doing and Ellie fucking hates it. 

“We’re just…hanging out. Why do you care?” You respond, looking away from her, focusing your eyes on a bird flying around in the distance. 

Ellie shuffles her feet and racks her brain, trying to come up with a response. “I-I-” She cuts herself off, still trying to find the words.

“Can you just leave us alone, we’re just trying to hang out and enjoy some fresh air. We’re not bothering anyone, okay?” Layla says, speaking up for the both of you. This angers Ellie even more, she doesn’t want to hear a word Layla has to say. She’s seeing red, jealous when she knows she has no right to be. She wants to act logically but she can’t, she acts purely on emotion as she tosses her coffee at Layla. It sends you both gasping in surprise scooting back, but not near quick enough to avoid the splash. You groan as you realize your white shirt has been covered in Ellies drink. Ellie is just as shocked by her actions as you are, she’s quick to run off, wanting to get back to her dorm as quickly as possible. 

You and Layla scramble to figure out what to do, using the blanket to dry yourselves. All you do is make the stains on your shirt and light wash jeans even worse and you hang your head in embarrassment as she walks you back to your dorm. You let her borrow some clothes and your shower stuff as she goes and gets herself cleaned up, you can’t lie she looks pretty good in your clothes even if it is just a black t-shirt and some sweatpants. You have your turn to shower and change and when you finish up you go back into your room to talk to Layla.

“I’m so sorry about that, I had no idea she was gonna do that. She hasn’t been herself since we broke up, she’s all mean now, it’s weird…” You apologize, sitting down on your twin bed next to her, brushing through your wet hair. 

Layla looks at you and smiles reassuringly, “It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for her now, if she can’t get over it she should talk to you instead of acting like such a dick. It’s not like you knew she’d do something so ridiculous.” You lay your head on her shoulder and look down at your lap. 

“I just feel bad you got caught up in this shit, she shouldn’t be messing with anyone else. I mean, she’s mad at me, there’s no reason for you to get caught in the middle of it,” you sigh. Layla once again grabs your hand, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb. 

“She’s mad at me too for taking you out on a cute little picnic,” she chuckles, resting her head against yours. You feel comfortable and happy with her, but there’s a part of you that feels like something is missing. You push down the feeling, it’s not something you feel like addressing in the middle of such a sweet moment. You push back your memories of Ellie and let yourself smile as you and Layla cuddle up together. She stays over for an hour, cuddling with you and talking about class and getting to know each other better, you’re grateful she doesn’t bring up Ellie again. When she leaves she promises to return your clothes when she sees you again, you couldn’t care less if she did, she looks better in them, anyway. 

Ellie is freaking the fuck out when she gets back to her dorm room, completely out of breath as she had run the entire way there. She’s thankful Dina isn’t there as she collapses onto her bed hyperventilating. She hasn’t always been great at impulse control, everyone who’s known her has known this. But she didn’t think it was bad enough for something like that to happen. She knows she’s going about everything wrong, there’s no way she’s getting you back acting like that, but she doesn’t know how to get her shit together. 

“I’m so fucking stupid oh my goddd,” Ellie groans, grabbing her pillow and screaming into it in frustration. She’s embarrassed and angry and still feels pangs of jealousy as she thinks about you and Layla giggling together in the grass. Ellie had never taken you on a picnic, when you dated it was mostly arcade and movie dates, she hadn’t even thought you’d want to do something outdoors. She overthinks it, convincing herself you broke up with her because she never took you on a nature date. It’s a stupid, irrational thought, and Ellie knows that, but she doesn’t care. She needs to let herself spiral before she can pick herself back up and make a plan that doesn’t make you look at her like she’s a complete jackass. 

“I need to apologize, tell her I’m sorry for the wedgie and the coffee and fucking up her date…her date with that girl who doesn’t deserve her but whatever…” Ellie mumbles to herself, pulling at her hair stressfully. She thinks back to the wedgie incident, she completely humiliated you and it got her wet. Your pathetic little noises, how you were at her mercy like that, it just did it for her. She scrunches up her nose, trying to convince herself to stop thinking about it like that but it doesn’t take long for her to soak her panties once again. 

“If I take care of it, I’ll stop thinking about it,” she mutters as she tries to convince herself it’s okay to get off to the memory. She slips off her jeans and slips her hand under her panties, starting off by flicking her clit, whining pathetically at the sensation. She slips two of her fingers inside her soaked cunt, pumping them in and out slowly as she uses her thumb to stimulate her clit. She continues working her fingers in and out of her cunt as she bites her lip to keep her noises to a minimum. All she can think about is how pathetic you sounded as you took your wedgie, she replays the noises in her head, loving how you sounded. You never sounded like that when you had slept together, that was a side of you she didn’t get to see until she had your waistband in her hand. It doesn’t take her long to cum, whimpering out your name as she reaches her climax. She lazily works her way through her orgasm, wishing it was your fingers instead. She feels guilty afterwards, mumbling to herself that she’s not doing that again.

She forces herself to get out of bed and into the cramped bathroom she shares with Dina so that she can wash off her shame. Little does she know that you’re in your dorm room doing the same, pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt shamefully as you use your other hand to pull your panties like Ellie had. The feeling of powerlessness, pain, and humiliation had all combined into pleasure in your brain. You halfway moan Ellie’s name when you cum, cutting yourself off when you realize what name is leaving your lips. “I’m never doing that again,” you promise yourself as the shame bubbles up inside of you. For once you’re grateful for your roommate to come bursting in the door, you let her nonsensical rant about whatever show she was watching distract you from the lingering thoughts of Ellie’s hands on your waistband.

[bruciemilf]

A crack treated seriously concept that I have just swimming in my mind;

Runaway sugar baby Bruce Wayne AU.

Here's the thing; Bruce and Harvey are married. Bruce may not realize they are! but they are.

Oblivious fucker really went,

" yes, I will have children with my best friend, raise them together happily, occasionally have sex, and wear this cool ring he gave me. Platonically, of course."

I think it all started when Tim came home from school, wearing a bit of a guilty expression, asking with a pinch embarrassment if Bruce could pretend to be a doctor for career day.

Bruce blinks, " I am a doctor, darling." Graduated with flying colors, mind you!

"Well, yeah, but...You know, not anymore. "

True. Ever since he adopted Jason and Tim, he just found it harder and harder to leave home. They were just too precious and he didn't want to miss a moment!

"I just don't understand why he'd lie about it."

"I can," Harvey looks so handsome, arranging his tie. He does a mess of it, but he doesn't look less tantalising,

" Little brats would be...Yknow, mean. They get finicky when they see a weak spot."

He knows it's Harvey because there's no accent melting like whisky on his mouth. " Weak spot?"

" doll, cmon, --"

" I do work, Harvey. Just because it's not defending criminals doesn't mean it's less vital."

" I knowthat. But you're also a rich guy who, let's face it, wouldn't need to work a day In his life. And that's fine by me. "

because Harvey HATED seeing his mom break her back to support their family when his father was drowning face down in debts.

He wouldn't put anyone through that, let alone his pretty little husband. But Bruce doesn't take this well.

" well! I'll show you! I'm more than capable of making it on my own, I'll prove it!"

Now. Bruce doesn't think too much. He's not an expert in it. Man can stitch up a 5 inch incision with floss, but his own well being? Leave it to Alfred.

But he'll make them proud. So next time, they don't have to lie.

He just packs up way too many luggages, packs Damian up too, and leaves while Harvey's at oh his back breaking, gruelling office job.

It's only when he's on a bus that he realizes he forgot the rest, but that'd be cruel! Their boys loved their father.

Dick, who's in his I Hate Dad phase, is extremely hysterical while they leave to find Bruce. Only stopping occasionally to fix his eyeliner, then start over again.

Jason, Harvey's second oldest, drives beside them on his motorbike.

He guesses its an extra middle finger to him to not wear a helmet. His beloved little hellion, raised on the devil's edge.

"Listen to me; If I find him, I'm moving back home. If I don't, I'll put you in the ground."

" I'll let you."

Now; Bruce does find a place. It's a little town with big characters.

Harley has a diner that she's more than happy to welcome him in, even if Bruce, Spoiled Spouse of the Year, can't quite pick up.

Anything for old roomies.

But there is someone in there who catches Bruce's attention. Towns mechanic.

Clark, his name tag says, who played with Damian behind Bruce's back while he talked to Harley.

He smells of salty motor oil; Fresh sweat, smoked apple pie. His eyes are dreamy blue, rendered with sharp cleverness. And Clark likes him.

Clark recommends him a good motel, brings Damian some toys to play with, even brings his own babies so they can have a playdate. " They're not mine. The toys! These two are. I have a receipt from the hospital."

"...A birth certificate?"

He's delightfully awkward.

When Harvey comes to pick him up, when Bruce jumps in his arms, claws at a pristine shirt stained with his brand new blisters and cracks and worked hands, he's not awkward.

He's disappointed; Like Bruce strangled the joy from his soul.

"You're...Married?"

When Bruce and Harvey respond, in perfect, consice sync, " Oh no, darling,--" " Yes he is, four eyes--" they're ALL confused.

"Oh, dear..."

[drvmekoo]

regroup | jeon jungkook [part one]

summary: drifting away from your best friend is never an easy thing to deal with. its a good thing a very important project is forcing you both to regroup

➳ pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

➳ genre: college au, fluff, angst, smut (eventually)

➳ rating: 18+

➳ warnings: just some swearing!

➳ wc: 1.3k+

➳ author's notes: part one is now here! let me know what you think of it so far! I love all the feedback!

PROLOGUE | PART ONE | PART TWO

“You got WHO?” Namjoon covered his mouth in shock. “I’m sorry to say this Y/n but… you’re royally fucked.”

You groaned “Please don’t tell me what I already know Joon! I mean Jeon Jungkook! Are you serious? It’s like I’m being punished for something!”

It was a new and sunny day on campus, students all over the grounds were talking and laughing, some rushing through small crowds to make it to their classes on time. You and Namjoon decided to join the many people already there and sit on the grass, taking advantage of no lectures, blue skies and missed sunshine. At Namjoon’s continuing criticisms of your new project partner, you fell on your back in the soft grass and covered your face with your arms 

“What am I gonna do?” you sighed “I didn’t reply to his text yesterday because there’s no way I’m gonna succeed going through with this! I need to get my partner changed.”

Namjoon too sat back on his arms “Look…maybe this’ll be a good thing! You said you haven’t spoken since school started right? Maybe this can be a fresh new start for you two?”

“Have you seen the people he hangs out with now? He’s in Jimins’ assemble! You know that little posse better than anyone!” You took your hands away from your face “We have nothing in common besides our parents anymore. It’s better if we just….avoid each other altogether!”

Namjoon smiled sympathetically before looking over your shoulder and widening his eyes “Uh well... You better think of a plan to put that idea in motion because guess who’s heading our way right now.”

Before you could turn around to get a glimpse yourself, you heard him first 

“You know, ignoring my texts really hurt my ego last night Y/n!”

“Oh boy,” you said under your breath before turning around to greet him. “What do you want Jungkook.” 

Beside him, Jimin smirked as Jungkook chuckled at your dry response “Oh come on, don’t be like that! You’ve known me forever!”

He pouted teasingly. Then his eyes travelled to Namjoon. 

“Who’s your friend?” His cocky grin faltered a little. What was that all about?

“This is my friend Namjoon if it’s any of your business.”  

“Oh yeah!” Jungkook waved at Jimin beside him as his gaze was still locked on Namjoon “Jimin told me about the quiet kid on the floor below.”

Namjoon blandly stared at Jimin, greeting him with a slight nod.

“Look.” You sighed, tired of the weird tension that was forming. “I knew you, let's get that straight. Now, why do you need me?”

Jungkook finally tore his attention away from your friend beside you at your interruption. “You know exactly why I need you Y/n. You and I have a project to work on and…times ticking!” He cockily pointed at his wrist to stimulate a watch. 

You sighed loudly. Before, you were hell-bent on switching partners. No way were you ruining your perfect grades for Jeon Jungkook. But now, standing in front of him, your mind had stopped being so critical. Maybe Joon was right, maybe this was a way of getting back in touch with your best friend that you once cherished and loved.

Looking at Namjoon for confirmation, he nodded slightly in comfort.

“Fine.” your fists clenched at your acceptance “If we’re gonna do this, you have to be fully committed. You have to be on time at ALL of our meetings. I’m deadly serious Jungkook.

“It’s very cute how much you don’t trust me but I think I can handle being on time!”

You blushed at the sudden compliment before coming back to reality ‘Oh yeah like you ‘handled’ making it to class yesterday?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Are we doing this or not? When do you wanna meet? Whenever is good for me.”

“Ummm…how about tonight? 6 pm at my dorm?”

He smirked “A little intimate don’t you think?”

Panicking slightly, you replied. “We can go to the communal space if you want!”

“Relax, I'm teasing you.’ He laughed openly. “Your dorm is fine. You live on the East block, right?”

You nodded “Room 218.”

“See you there.” He was already walking away before you could respond. Namjoon uttered a dull “Jimin.” as he too walked off alongside Jungkook, repeating in the same tone a “Namjoon” as a goodbye. 

After they were out of sight, Namjoon turned to you “Yeah you’re still fucked.”

- 

Damn, right you were absolutely fucked. 

The time was 7:30 pm. And there was no sign of Jungkook anywhere. 

You scrolled through all the notes you had individually made for yourself about the project, eager to share with Jungkook to make the whole process a lot easier. But after a while, it looked like he wasn’t even coming. 

Closing down all your tabs, you decided to finally put your stuff away when suddenly there was a frantic knock on your door.

You froze, knowing exactly who that was. 

“Y/n. I know you’re in there, I can see the light coming from under the door.” The well-known voice said. 

You cursed under your breath before opening the door slowly. “I thought we said 6 pm, Jeon?”

“Hey, you’re lucky I turned up!” He invited himself in, brushing past you and taking his jacket off “So, let’s hear the ideas!”

You scoffed, gobsmacked at his entrance. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You need to get out.”

“Wow, you curse now? Never used to when we were younger?” he chuckled under his breath, flopping onto your bed. “Anyways why are you in such a rush to get me out? Your boyfriend Namjoon coming over?”

Rolling your eyes, you spat “Namjoon isn't my boyfriend? And anyways what's it to you?”

He stared at you as he sat back on your bed. “Wait, he’s not?” His entire demeanour had changed, his cocky attitude sunny disintegrating. 

“No. He’s just a friend..”

Jungkook nodded slightly, seemingly in deep thought.

After a while of silence, you decided to break it “Jungkook, is there something you needed? I’ve waited for you all evening and I’m actually very tired so-”

“I can’t believe you still kept that thing.” He interrupted.

“...What thing?”

He pointed over to the dangling key chain attached to your keys laid across your desk. Both of you had made each other key chains during the summer before last. Each of them had a mini photo of you and him together when you were younger, both of your faces exploded in a massive grins.

“Oh…well…yeah, of course, I did. Part of the promise remember?”

Jungkook was instantly transported to that very summer. You and he made a pact to keep it forever otherwise your friendship was classed as ‘bogus’ He smiled at the simplicity of your minds back then. Although the promise was very stupid, his heart grew at the fcat that you still kept yours.

“How have you been Y/n?”

“What?”

“How has everything been?” He repeated, his wide eyes staring at you deeply. 

Your brows furrowed, “I-I've been…okay? Kook…what are you doing?” you continued lightly

He smiled sweetly “I’ve missed that little nickname.” He got up from the bed and strode over to you. “I’ve missed you.”

The proximity of your bodies so close together made you weary. What was happening right now? Why all of a sudden was this happening? You couldn’t get your head straight right now. You needed space. 

“I think…” you stepped away from him “I think you should go.”

“Y/n-”

“We’ll reschedule for tomorrow… 3 pm in the library.” Opening the door for him, you beckoned him out “Don’t be late.”

He stared at you a while longer, before getting his coat and walking out. Quietly, he turned around to face you again “I’ll be there.”

He started to walk away but then doubled back again 

“Y/n.” He caught the door before you could close it shut.

“For what it’s worth…..I kept mine too.”

@thvkives @sugaminh @kooromiwrld @no-regrets-just-confusion @leethvjkk @petalsofink @secretlypg95 @bangtans-momma @ane102 @v-taeunofficial @kc204 @jjeonjjk7 @toraluvs

[shadowtriovibes]

the waves won't break my boat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "okok what about like Seb telling reader he has a surprise to show her and then sneaking her out at night to take her for a ride on the boats toward the castle like first years do bc she missed it as she wasn’t there during first year and he wanted her to see such a beautiful sight?? just pure fluff"

“Sebastian,” you whine a bit pitifully. “Where are you taking me?” “It’s a surprise,” is all he offers. “Don’t get your wand in a knot, we’re nearly there.” You trail after him in the darkness until he comes to a sudden stop next to a concealed doorway you’d never stopped to investigate. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s actually a lift, and from there you deduce that Sebastian means to take you deep underneath the castle. “Absolutely bloody not.”

“Oi! New fifth year!”

Frowning, you glance up from the Ancient Runes textbook you’d been pouring over for the last hour by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

“Me?” you ask dumbly.

Across the room by the Fat Lady’s portrait, one of the sixth-year girls who always seems to have a sour expression on her face rolls her eyes.

“Yes, you,” she calls out with a sneer. “Your little boyfriend is outside looking for you. Brown hair, Slytherin, bit of an arse?”

You slam your book shut and narrow your eyes, willing yourself not to go red while the handful of other Gryffindors studying nearby start to giggle and whisper to each other. Then you awkwardly shove your book back into your school bag and weave through the common room’s array of plush armchairs and couches toward its guarded entrance.

“Thanks for that,” you mumble as you shove past her into the tunnel behind the portrait.

(You don’t bother telling her that Sebastian is not your boyfriend, because it’s very much not her business.)

When you emerge from behind the Fat Lady, you find Sebastian pacing in the empty hallway. He looks a bit nervous, but as soon as he notices you, his usual air of casual confidence settles onto his shoulders like a fresh set of robes.

“Good, you’re not busy,” he says simply.

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. “As a matter of fact, I was doing some reading on runes. Did you want to join me?”

Ever since your adventure in the not-so-abandoned mine outside Upper Hogsfield, you’ve been trying to learn as much as you can about the rune symbols that the two of you had encountered in case you come across them again. You assume that Sebastian has been doing some research as well, though he seems to be most interested in that ratty spellbook you’d found in the Scriptorium.

“Not tonight,” he says, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. “Actually, there’s something that I’ve been wanting to show you for a while now, and I’ve just found out that tonight is an excellent night to make it happen.”

Now you’ve shifted from merely skeptical to outright suspicious.

“I promise, you’ll love it,” he says quickly. “There’s no danger to life or limb, I swear.”

“Does it involve any active goblin mines?” you ask dryly.

“Not this time,” he answers with a grin. “In fact, we won’t even be leaving Hogwarts.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

Of course, he hesitates. “Well, not technically. We’ll be on the grounds, at least.”

You roll your eyes fondly – you should have known it couldn’t be that simple when Sebastian is involved.

“Isn’t it nearly curfew?” you ask him knowingly. “Won’t we get detention if we’re caught?”

“You know I have ways of not getting caught,” he reminds you. “But I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I’d even wager that we won’t see a single living soul where we’re headed – not this time of year.”

Damn him, he knows that throwing in a tease of a hint like that is bound to tempt you.

“No living souls?” you repeat.

“No dead ones either,” he laughs. “But it’s clever of you to notice that bit of wordplay. I suspect the Sorting Hat must have sensed some Slytherin in you.”

(Even if he’s right, you’d never admit it to him while he’s being that cocky.)

You quickly glance around to make sure there aren’t any other stragglers lingering in the hallway before you start to follow Sebastian toward the marble staircase. While you make your way through the mostly-deserted castle, Sebastian earnestly quizzes you about what you’ve learned on the subject of runes since your last outing. This leads to a conversation all about Isadora and her journal entries, and before you realize it you’re following him outside into the Viaduct Courtyard.

The cool autumn air feels bracing after you’d spent all evening curled up by the fireplace, and you drape your scarf a bit closer to your face as Sebastian casts Lumos from the tip of his wand and leads you toward the far end of the courtyard.

“Sebastian,” you whine a bit pitifully. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” is all he offers. “Don’t get your wand in a knot, we’re nearly there.”

You trail after him in the darkness until he comes to a sudden stop next to a concealed doorway you’d never stopped to investigate. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it’s actually a lift, and from there you deduce that Sebastian means to take you deep underneath the castle.

“Absolutely bloody not,” you tell him.

“Merlin’s beard, haven’t I proven myself to you yet?” he asks, exasperated. “This is Hogwarts, it isn’t dangerous at all!”

(You may only have been a student at this school for several months, but you know that he’s utterly full of dragon dung if he seriously believes that.)

Regardless, you reluctantly allow yourself to be led into the lift, your wand at the ready as it magically comes to life and starts to sink into the ancient bedrock beneath the castle. However, instead of emerging into another spider-infested passageway or tomb-like chamber filled with Merlin knows what, you take a step out of the lift and realize that you’re standing on sand.

“Where are we?” you ask softly.

Glancing around, it seems to be a hidden harbor of sorts, tucked away inside a rocky cavern lit only by enchanted lamps and the faint strands of moonlight that manage to filter through its crag-like opening. A shallow lagoon stretches out in front of you, and floating atop its placid surface are half a dozen narrow boats tied to wooden docks.

“What do you think?” Sebastian asks you eagerly.

You’re quiet for several long moments as you take a few steps toward the water.

“...Are we about to go out onto the lake in one of these?” you ask, even though you think you already know the answer to your own question.

“Brilliant, you are,” he teases.

“May I ask why?” you counter.

“I was thinking I’d explain along the way,” he replies, easily rebuffing your line of questioning while he walks out onto the nearest dock and starts to untie one of the boats. “Go on then, ladies first.”

You are very cautious as you lower yourself into the boat. Mercifully it stays steady while you take a seat on its narrow bench and wrap your robes tightly around yourself. As soon as Sebastian piles the slack ropes that had previously held it in place onto the dock and joins you inside the boat, it starts to slowly pull away from its resting place and curves toward the harbor’s ivy-covered opening.

The novelty of the self-guiding boat emerging from the harbor onto the lake proper is enough to distract you for a short while, but by the time you round the corner and spot the shores of Hogsmeade in the distance, you refocus on your scheming friend.

“Well?” you demand. “What reason could you possibly have for bringing me out onto the Black Lake well after curfew, in late November, in a very tiny boat?”

He sits back with a smug smile on his face as he starts to explain. “First off, the boat isn’t tiny, we’re just much bigger than its usual occupants.”

You frown. “...House elves?”

“No!” he laughs delightedly. “First years.”

“And why do the first years ride in boats?” you ask.

“It’s a Hogwarts tradition,” Sebastian says simply. “Every new student rides across the lake in these very boats from Hogsmeade Station on their first night here.”

Then he pauses and pointedly adds, “Well, almost every student.”

You feel a wave of wistfulness pass over you just then. There are so many experiences that you’ve missed out on by not starting school at Hogwarts until your fifth year – more than you’ll ever be able to chronicle, most likely. But every time you learn about a new one, the chasm between you and your fellow students seems to grow wider.

“Don’t fret,” Sebastian says softly, interrupting your train of thought as if he could detect that your mind had flown miles away. “That’s why I wanted to show you this. It’s one of my favorite memories of my time here, and you should get to experience it too.”

Occasionally, Sebastian surprises you with how genuinely thoughtful he can be.

“Will you tell me about what it was like?” you ask hopefully.

“Of course,” he says happily. “It starts when you first arrive on the Hogwarts Express. Returning students take the carriages pulled by Thestrals up to the castle, but the little ones all stand around on the platform in little huddles like baby Puffskeins.”

You picture younger versions of Sebastian and Anne nervously clinging to each other on the hectic platform and very nearly melt.

“Then Mister Moon arrives and starts herding all the first years down toward the docks,” he continues. “‘Four at a time in the boats please, no more and no less!’”

“Is that when you met Ominis?” you wonder aloud.

“It was,” he confirms. “He rode in our boat with Anne and me, along with a friend of Anne’s who’s in Ravenclaw now.”

“It seems like you all made fast friendships,” you murmur.

“What can I say?” he says with a cheeky grin. “When I get a good feeling about someone, I’m usually right.”

You duck your face into your scarf to conceal your blush.

A few moments later, the boat gently bumps against the shores below Hogsmeade Station and curves as if to turn back toward Hogwarts.

“Quickly, close your eyes,” Sebastian instructs.

This time you easily comply – he hasn’t led you astray so far, after all.

“I can still picture the first time I saw Hogwarts from across the lake,” he tells you, and even with your eyes closed you can hear how nostalgic he sounds. “It will always be one of my favorite memories, especially now that Hogwarts has become more like a home to me than anywhere else.”

Suddenly you’re nervous, even though you’ve already approached the castle from across this very lake countless times on your boom. With one hand covering your eyes, you wordlessly reach for him with your other. He takes your hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly.

“Ready?” he asks quietly. “...Alright, open.”

When you open your eyes, you can’t help but gasp out loud.

From down below like this on the rippling surface of the lake, Hogwarts looks positively enormous. Since you began exploring its secrets and eccentricities, it became all too easy to forget the downright colossal scale of the venerable castle. Here, however, it looms over you like a friendly giant, its storied facade dotted with sparkling windows and lofty turrets.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe. “Sebastian, I… thank you.”

You manage to tear your eyes away from the castle only to catch Sebastian staring at you instead.

“Worth the trip?” he asks you.

“Absolutely,” you answer, squeezing his hand when you realize he’s still holding yours. “This was… This was amazing. I’ll never forget this, Sebastian.”

“Me neither,” he confesses, and then he blushes. “I – I mean, er. You never forget the first time you see the castle from the Black Lake, is what I meant.”

Easily distracted by the allure of the castle, you mumble in agreement and fall silent until the boat starts to curve back toward its cavernous home.

Sebastian lets you keep his hand in yours until he chivalrously offers to tie up the boat upon your return. You silently reclaim his hand once more when he joins you in the lift, and he doesn’t let go again until he drops you back at your common room.

[reinvent-and-believe]

7 for Roy x Jamie. Also, I adore your writing! ❤

7. love at first sight

--

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Georgie says, looking at the pair of them from across the dinner table with a crooked little grin that means trouble, a grin Roy’s intimately acquainted with on a slightly different face. “Love at first sight, weren’t it?”

“Mummy.” Jamie is the palest Roy’s ever seen. “Do not.”

“Don’t be rude to your mum,” Roy scolds, his full attention fixed on that familiar grin. He rests his arms on the table and leans in. “What were you saying, Georgie?”

“Well look at you, coming to my defense,” she teases. “Can you believe it, my Jamie ending up with such a gentleman?”

“It’s lovely to see,” says Simon, setting a tray of fresh cookies down on the table and giving Roy a genuine little smile.

Roy doesn’t know much about Simon; Jamie’s not talked about their history, other than to hint that a teenage Jamie Tartt was as much of a fucking terror as one might imagine and Simon was a prime target. But Roy likes him. Likes how he looks at Georgie like she hung the fucking moon. Likes how easily his love extends to Jamie.

“Mummy.” Jamie’s blushing now, a deep, fast-spreading red. It strikes Roy, not for the first time, that Jamie’s fucking gorgeous when he blushes. 

“Love at first sight? Is that what you said?” Roy asks.

Jamie elbows him. “You ain’t helping.”

Fuck football, this is Roy’s favorite game now. “Who says I’m trying to?”

“Right then.” Georgie winks at Roy as Jamie rubs his forehead. “It must have been, what? 2006? When did you move to Chelsea, Roy?”

“2005."

“2005.” She nods. “Chelsea were here playing City, so of course we had it on telly. And all the announcers could talk about the whole game was the new hot player at Chelsea, making quite a name for himself after only a few games. So of course the camera cut to him over and over, I swear half the game was a closeup on Roy Kent.”

“Mummy, you have got to stop,” Jamie groans.

“This one,” she reaches across the table and pats Jamie’s hand, even as he scowls, “was all of eight years old. You might be a gentleman, Roy Kent, but you’re also a bit of a cradle robber, aren’t you?”

It’s Roy’s turn to freeze. “Right.”

“I’m 25 years old, Mum, I’m fucking grown,” Jamie huffs in an exasperated voice that sounds suddenly 15.

“Of course you are, love.” Her smile loses its bite, fond and soft. “I think you’re lovely together and I’m thrilled for you two, swear down. But I am gonna give this one shit about the fact that he and I would have been in school at the same time and you were eight when he got his big break.”

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says as Roy says, “Fair enough.”

“So Jamie was just a tiny thing, sat in front of the telly as close as he could get, eyes wide. After the first half, he stood up and looked at me with that little look he gets. You know the one. When he’s made his mind up about something and you’ll be wasting your breath if you try and stop him.”

“I know the one.” Roy puts a hand on Jamie’s knee and squeezes gently.

“He turned to me and said”—she pauses for dramatic effect before starting the recitation—“‘when I grow up, I’m gonna be a pretty footballer like Roy Kent.’”

Jamie buries his head in the curve of Roy’s neck. “This is not a cute story,” he insists.

“Keep telling yourself that, love,” Georgie coos sympathetically. “And so began the Roy Kent years. What does he ask for for his birthday? A Roy Kent poster. What do we have to get when we check out at the shop? That magazine with Roy Kent on the cover. What’s he want for Christmas? A Chelsea kit, for Christ’ sake.”

“Now, Georgie, you’ll embarrass him,” Simon chides mildly.

“Yeah, that ship has fucking sailed, man,” Jamie pouts. “When Roy leaves me because he thinks I’m a fucking stalker, it’s gonna be all your fault, Mummy, is that something you want to live with?”

Georgie shakes her head, laughing. “Roy, you’re not allowed to leave Jamie over my cute story. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’m just saying,” she says, sitting back and looking at her son with a love so palpable it makes Roy ache, “it’s not like this is exactly a surprise. If anyone knows how to go after what they want, it’s my Jamie.”

It’s fucking weird, hearing about little Jamie’s crush, but it's not like he didn't know most of it, and it's not like they’ve ever really had the most normal of relationships; Roy accepted that pretty early on. He puts an arm around Jamie, smiling when he immediately curls into Roy. “Well, I think you set your sights too low,” he says with a gentle brush of the lips against Jamie’s temple. “You turned out to be a way prettier footballer than Roy Kent.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously,” Jamie scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches towards a grin as he pulls Roy into a kiss.

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT.2 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

WC: 2.892

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

I am awoken by the blaring sound of my alarm. Why do I always have to wake up when my bed gets so comfy? I groan, fighting the urge to snooze my alarm, checking the time while at it. It's six now, two hours to make this face look like it has seen more than four hours of sleep.

I check my messages before washing up. Walking out to the bathroom to put on my outfit. Some 90's style jeans and a body hugging cropped shirt. Nothing too much, I'll have to wear my scrubs anyway. I make my bed and do some breathing exercises to calm my nerves, meeting new people was still a big challenge for me. I finish eating breakfast and turn on the coffee machine for a nice frothy cup of coffee. Admiring the view behind my window as I sip the last bit of my coffee. The city is not entirely up yet, people still enjoying their last minutes of sleep before going to work or school.

Walking back to my room for the best part of my morning, doing my make up! I apply my base carefully. First day means first impressions, I can't go overboard, not yet. I curl my long lashes, coating them with mascara. Lining my lips with brown liner, some lip balm on top for a subtle look. I take out my jewelry box, grabbing my usual gold necklace. It was custom made, adorning my name, a graduation gift from my mom. I look into the mirror, humming a song in satisfaction as I do my hair. I grab my bag, stuffing it with things I might need throughout the day. Finally, putting on my Nike dunks and leaving my house.

I walk downstairs to my car. Thankfully my dad had arranged for it to be imported from Spain a couple weeks ago, when I accepted this job. My dad had a thing for paying for my things, maybe it  was to make up for our strained relationship or something. Either way, I wasn't going to refuse his help, it benefited us both anyways. He'd feel like a present father, and I'd feel like he cared.

I jump into my car, the dashboard lighting up. I run my hands around the steering wheel for some comfort before I hit the road. The leather soft as I trace the Mercedes logo, I loved this baby. My G-class never failed to make me feel like the bad bitch I am. I told you working hard and spending hard had its perks. I turn on the navigation system, hoping it would take me straight to the training grounds without any issues.

I turn on some music, trying to drown out my nerves and thoughts. It was never too early for some Drake. I try to pay special attention to my surroundings, since the more I memorize, the faster I can get used to this route. My navigation system pings as it tells me I've arrived. I scan my surroundings, being greeted by a security post. I drive up to it, turning my music off and rolling my window down.

"Good morning, I'm here for the new physiotherapist job." I flash the security guard a smile, he is an older man, his hair graying slightly. I might as well get friendly since I'll be here almost everyday from today onwards. "Morning to you as well. Could you some show me some sort of identification, please?." I can't help but stare at the man, his scoucer accent making it hard for me to understand right away, I should get used to it quickly. I nod quickly pulling my ID from my wallet. He looks at it, scanning through a list, probably a list of staff? His eyes light up as he, I presume sees my name on the list. "Welcome, Dr. l/n, I'll call up the head coach so he can greet you at the door." He gives me a kind smile, handing me my ID back. "Thank you, I appreciate it." I shove my ID back into my wallet, driving into the training center parking lot as the gates open for me. I park, collecting my bag as I jump out of my car. Though, not before fixing my hair and make up.

I take in my surroundings, so this is what I'll be partially calling home now. I notice some other, what I presume to be staff walk into the training center. I walk in as well, immediately being greeted by the huge Liverpool FC emblem. I hold onto my bag tightly, trying to contain my nerves.

I look to my right, the reception. The woman behind the desk looks up, flashing me a smile as I go up to her, sitting down on the chair in front of her desk.

"Hi, I'm y/n l/n. I'm here for the physiotherapist job." She stares at me for a moment, before typing something on the computer. "Nice to meet you! I'm Clara, welcome to our family. I'll call down our head physio, just a second honey.”

Her response warms my heart as I nod. So far, I think I'll feel quite comfortable here. She picks up the phone, though her expression changes into one of surprise as she looks behind me, over my shoulder. "Oh, he is here already."

My eyes follow hers, being greeted by a man, around his 50's. He walks up to me, extending his hand to me. "Welcome Dr. l/n. I've heard a lot about you, nice to finally see the woman being so highly spoken of by my colleagues." I smile and grab his hand in a firm handshake. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Dr. Woods."

He chuckles, before letting go of my hand. "Let's talk more inside, the boss wants to meet you as well." I turn back towards Clara, mumbling a quick thank you to her, before following Dr. Woods inside the training center. I glance around, it’s is even bigger in real life. I had watched some YouTube video's of the club just to prepare and calm my anxiety, but seeing it in real life was very different. We stop in front of an office, the label reading 'Manager'. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I'd already be meeting THE Klopp. I rub my hands together trying to get rid of that anxious feeling.

Dr. Woods knocks on the door loudly, the door is opened a couple of seconds later, revealing Klopp.

"Hey, I'm here to introduce our new physiotherapist." The doctor informs. Klopp looks at me, giving me one of his famous smiles. "Right of course, come in." He opens the door wider, we both walk in. He ushers us to sit down on his red sofa's. He sticks out his hand, we shake hands as he introduces himself, with that all too well known German accent. "It's always nice to greet new members of our big family. Welcome, I'm Jürgen Klopp." I introduce myself as well, his eyes light up in recognition as I tell him my name. "I've heard very great things about you Dr. l/n. I'm very happy to see you here."

"No it's an honor for me, this club is amazing and I'm happy to contribute to the team." I reply, my worries and nerves had been washed away just like- that. I just know that this was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

We start chatting about how I've adjusted to living here, my education and my experience before they start asking different questions.

"So that means you speak how many languages?"

Dr. Woods asks curiously.

"Well my native tongues would be Dutch since I was born and raised in The Netherlands and Turkish, since I'm half Turkish. I'm also fluent in English as you can hear." We chuckle. "Though I do speak some Spanish and Catalan since I worked at FC Barcelona for two years, as you know."

"Great so you'll have no problem with speaking to the players huh? Especially our very loved Dutch players." We laugh at Klopps comment. I secretly hope that too.

Our conversation comes to an end as Klopp suggests I meet the players. He checks his watch, before looking at me. "Players will come in any moment now. They'll start with warming up." Dr. Woods chimes in. "It will be a recovery day since the team played a match yesterday as you may have followed."

Oh yeah I did. I watched it just so I could take notes on the players, the draw at the end was kind of disappointing. Though, it was better than losing.

"Right, I did watch it. Just to study a little before I do see the team play in real life."

"You're impressive Doctor, doing homework before even starting to work." Klopp says. "Oh it's nothing really, just prepares me for what I might encounter as I start working here." I dismiss.

We stand up after a short while, Dr. Woods taking me to put on my scrubs. I mentally pray they have pink ones, both of my former clubs did have them. He walks up to a machine, telling me exactly how the scrub dispenser worked. I nod, pressing some buttons before choosing my size. The scrubs are a- dark red? Well, at least they are part of the club colors. Dr. Woods leads me to the woman's staff changing room. I walk and change quickly putting my hair up in a claw clip.

I walk out of the room after putting my stuff in my locker, and installing a code on it. "I'm ready."

I tell him, he looks at my scrubs for a second. "Red looks great on you Dr. l/n, part of the family already." We chuckle before he leads me to the gym.

A sudden wave of nervousness hits me. I had known that the players were very friendly, still I couldn't help but feel like an unsure inexperienced intern again. We walk into the gym, it's big with plenty of space for calisthenic training like, push-ups and burpees. I look around seeing some the worlds best star players. I've worked some of the best football players like Lewandowski and Frenkie de Jong, but this still felt super insane.

I notice Klopp walking in as he calls for the players to gather around to introduce me. I glance around, they all give me a kind smile as Klopp tells them I'll be their new physiotherapist starting this new season, and of course he couldn't help but mention I'm Dutch. "Nice to meet everyone, I look forward to working with you all." I give them a smile, my dimples on full display. Suddenly, one of the players walks up to me, I immediately recognize him, who wouldn't? It's the caption of the team, well of his national team too. Virgil towers over me, sticking out his hand, his tall frame couldn't be compared to what you see on TV or the pitch. "Welcome to our team y/n, or should I call you doctor." He flashes me a beautiful smile, making me shake his hand and smile in respons. "Hi, y/n is fine, it's good to be here." Other players come to greet me as well, not to forget Robertson, who has to crack a joke about another Dutch person joining the club. "You'd think it was planned huh." We laugh and chat for a bit before Klopp redirects the attention back to him.

"Alright everyone, it's recovery day so take it easy and tell our doctors if something's up as they assist you."

Dr. Woods turns to me, telling me to follow his lead as I slowly start getting the gist of how everything works here. I nod at him, watching as he talks to the players about any soreness they're experiencing.

The day progress quickly as lunch time hits, we walk into the canteen. Seems like players and staff eat at the same time just like in Barcelona.

I walk through the the buffet as I'm greeted by Gakpo.

"Dus je bent echt Nederlands?" (So you're actually Dutch?) he asks in Dutch, full of curiosity. "Natuurlijk, geboren en getogen. Net als jij." (Of course born and raised. Just like you.)

He gives me a cute smile before we continue speaking in Dutch as we fill up our plates with healthy and delicious food.

He invites me to sit with the team. I glance at him wondering if it is a good idea. Well I did sit with the players at Barca too. "Are you sure?" I ask. "Yeah, look around players sit with staff at every table." I take a glance around, he was right staff and players were sitting together at every table. Chatting and laughing together. "Okay then, I'll sit with you guys."

He leads me to a table, already occupied by Trent, Virgil, Joel, Andrew and new star transfer Dominik Szoboszlai. "Doctor, very nice of you to sit with us." Virgil chimes in. "Well I couldn't refuse when Cody offered, we're practically already family based on the fact that we're Dutch hm." The table erupts in laughter, as we glance at Cody. "Of course the Dutch lad steals the doctor before we get to know her." Trent teases, his Scouse accent thick. "Where did you work before joining us?" Robbo asks, shoving a spoonful food into his mouth. Everyone at the table turns to me for my answer.

I clear my throat before answering. "I first interned at Ajax, I got a three year contact there after graduating. Then I got offered a position at Barcelona, worked there for two years." They nod in acknowledgement. Before Cody mentions something. "Oh you're the famous pretty doctor?!" I stare at him confused. "What do you mean?" "Well the national team players used to always talk about a pretty doctor working at Ajax." I raise a brow at his words, glancing at Virgil to confirm, since he also is apart of the national team. "Can't lie Doctor, they did talk about a pretty Doctor." I give them an impressed look. "I guess that would be me?" I chuckle.

We chat some more as everyone chimes in, though some of their faces turning confused. "Wait how old are you then?" One of them asks. "Oh I'm twenty-five." I reply. "Wow, you're pretty impressive for someone so young." Joel says. I thank him as we all continue eating and chatting in between bites.

Recovery training had gone by fast. I had gotten much more familiar with team and how they operate. Klopp dismisses everyone, as we all walk back into our designated changing rooms. Though, I'm quickly stopped by Dr. Woods. He tells me he'll make sure someone adds me to the staff group chat, as well as the group chat the entire club is in. We then bid each other goodbye as I enter the female staff changing room. I take a minute to sit down and to take it all in, that really just happend huh.

I change quickly putting my outfit back on and discarding my scrubs into the laundry basket. I do a quick make up refresh and hair fix before I grab my bag and take out my car keys. I walk through the hallways slowly, looking around for things I might have not seen yet. I’m totally in my own world before I hear my name being called. I turn around, I'm greeted by both Trent and Dominik, seems like they had been getting along nicely since Dominik had transferred here.

"Are you going out?" The new star asks. "Yeah, you guys aren't?" I lift a brow at them. I can see small smirks on their faces, they look like schoolboys hiding something. "Oh yes, we're leaving just now." We chat a little before we walk outside, saying goodbye to Clara at the reception. I notice other cars had parked right next to mine. "Bye doctor, we'll see ya tomorrow, right?" The Scoucer says. I nod "See you guys!" They wave before they both get into their respective cars.

I unlock my car, climbing in before closing the door. I place my bag onto the passengers seat, leaning back for a second. First day: survived.

Sadly, my peace is interrupted by a loud car horn. I raise my head and lower my window, it's the car next to me? I squint, it's an English car so I can see who it is from my seat. The person lowers down his windows as well. It's Virgil?

"What's wrong?" I half shout, so he can hear me through the loud engine of his car. "Nothing just wanted your attention." I chuckle, man these football players never got tired of teasing people. I roll my eyes playfully, before starting my car. I wave at him, before driving my car out of the parking slot.

I get home rather quickly, my speakers playing my favorite songs loudly. I enter my house, feeling fulfilled. I throw myself on my couch after washing up. I reflect on the day, the players and staff were amazingly kind. Though, that small interaction with Trent and Dominik was weird, why were they so smirky?

[erbodd]

A Wolf's Eye

This little story is meant as a present for an artist I admire, who became a friend and someone I respect and care for a lot. I first wanted to draw something, but I’m better at writing than drawing. I’m no “writer” though, by any means, and probably write stories like a 15-year-old with too big a will for happy endings and sugary love.

This is based on something I used to do when I was a very bad student at school. I’d ask for some imposed terms I have to use. Not just mentioned in a description but integrated into the story in a coherent manner. When I did that at school, I would even ask for the hero of the story, and once wrote the marvellous adventures of a mouse. But for this one, I gave myself the courtesy of choosing the protagonists. One would expect Pelle and Varg, but they’re much better in their hands than mine, so I went for the pair I’m the most comfortable with.

Here is what I asked for, and the perfect answers @plusvanity gave me : 

A colour: titanium white An animal: wolf A country: Sweden An household / everyday use item: a warm blanket A season: winter A song with lyrics OR specific lyrics: For Emma - Bon Iver

-Me before starting it : This is going to be so easy, I was already planning for winter and the lyrics are so fitting! -Me after writing about 50 words : Fuck me…

______________________________________________________________________

The sunset was stretching its golden beams across the landscape. Sat on the roof of the cabin, basking in the fainting warmth of the sun, was a blonde haired man. His eyes were closed and his mind was wandering. Winter had a way of sneaking memories in there, mostly bad, sometimes good. He shook his head to push any unwanted thought away. He wanted a clear mind so he could come up with new lyrics.

Being alone and just looking at nature was a good way to do that. He would often do it as an escape, since his younger years back in Sweden, and the habit has stuck with him. However, it was less and less of an escape and he truly enjoyed these rides now. It helped that the scenery was different from what he was used to, bringing something fresh to his sore mind. Yet, Norway was similar enough to Sweden in its decor to give him this sense of home and comfort that his old home didn’t give him anymore.

He would admire the landscape, see it move and change to become what he wanted. From a warm orange sunset, he would imagine a dark blue cloudy sky instead. All those beautiful evergreens, he would picture them dead with charcoal black bark. Where there is a house, in his mind it would turn into a castle made with old grey stones and lit by torches. In a window, there would be a shadowy figure cloaked in darkness, its watchful eye towering the scene. It would be cold, rough and gloomy, just the way he likes it. Later, he would pull out some paper and sketch his visions to turn them into something more tangible. He would scrap many, but some would be true to the images in his mind and worthy of keeping.

The sound of a door opening and some steps coming from the porch underneath him tore him from his reverie.

“Pelle? It’s getting dark, where are you?” “Up here” he answered, waving his hand. “Why are you on the roof?” he asked, slightly annoyed to have to step out in the cold. “The view. Come join me” he offered, pointing at the ladder. “I don’t deal with heights very well. Can’t you come down?” “You make me come down.” he dared him.

Øystein groaned and left, slamming the door shut, enough to make the wall and the windows shake. The blonde chuckled. For some strange reason, his friend’s temper would always bring a smile to his face. He resumed his contemplation but now, his mind was blurred, like an old television that got stuck between two channels. He sighed and climbed down carefully. Night wasn’t yet covering their part of the world, so he made for the trees instead of going home.

He walked on a path he knew as it was too late to venture in any new direction. His steps were confident, each one taken exactly where he had to in order to avoid a cavity here or a stump there. This allowed his mind to wander once more, free from any other thought. It was one of these moments ; your mind is invaded by a melody, it’s nostalgic, distorted like an old record, and it feels eerily familiar even if the name eludes you. There were no words, only notes that escorted his stroll in the forest.

He stopped and blinked a few times, adjusting to the unexpected drop in daylight. It felt as sudden as an eclipse, plunging the forest in darkness right after he realised he had wandered away from his regular path, too lost in thought. He fumbled carefully, going from a tree to another, taking slow steps until there was no tree left so he had to walk blindly, both hands in front of him.

Tripping on a shrouded obstacle, he ended up with his hands and knees in the cold snow. He was about to get back to his feet when he heard a low growl. As far as he knew, there were no dangerous predators in this forest, he would have noticed by then. But the sound filled him with a sense of dread he never felt before. Daring to lift his head, he looked around and was met with two bright golden eyes surrounded by titanium white fur that almost blinded him. The creature’s outline started to appear inch by inch as Pelle got used to the obscurity. It was a wolf, a huge one, and it was only a few feet away from him. He was frozen in fear save from the slight tremor the cold gave him as it crawled into his skin from his hands and knees.

The wolf started to inch closer and closer at an agonisingly slow pace when all it had to do was pounce on him to tear him up. Pelle hoped this was a dream or an hallucination, that he got lost in the forest and was now slowly dying of hypothermia, his mind protecting him by creating this weird fantasy. The wolf came close enough to sniff him and circled him before it sat, his mesmerising gaze locked on Per.

“We trip, we fall, we get up and try again until darkness becomes light and there is nothing left to fuel our fears. Only then can we live. Only then we are free.”

His voice was deep and distant, like the echo of an ancient deity that took pity on Pelle in his dying moments. The wolf came to his side, its icy fur grazed Per’s body and it took him a few seconds to understand it was offering help. He held onto him and lifted himself up, realising the cold had numbed his legs so much that they were shaking as he straightened up. The wolf retreated into the depths, leaving him alone with his freezing body and clouded mind.

A faint light caught his eye in the distance. Unconsciously, he knew he had to go that way. Gradually, it became brighter and his path was visible. However, he kept his attention to the source, understanding his surroundings from sole peripheral vision. From an unknown shape, the light became a rectangle. A door. A strange figure appeared in its frame, it was short, had long hair and wore a cloak of sorts. It came out from this divine gateway and seemed to float above the ground. Taking his steps at the same time as the figure, Per circled it like a predator would with its prey, avoiding the light and placing himself to the side of whoever it was.

“Pelle! It’s really cold now! You’ll freeze to death!” “No, I won’t” “Fuck! Don’t startle me like that!” “Sorry, I won’t do it again.” he promised, his playfully smile hinting otherwise.

Øystein opens his arms to invite Pelle inside. He meant inside the house, Pelle understood inside his arms. So that’s where he went, sliding his arms around the Norwegian and laying his head on the guitarist’s shoulder.

“You’re cold!” “And you’re nicely warm.”

Giving up, the shorter man wrapped his singer with the blanket as best he could, shielding him from the cold.

“Come inside, please.” “Were you worried about me?” “...Always.” he answered in a whisper.

He noticed Øystein was blushing. Or was it only the cold? Pelle didn’t care, he found it cute. He’s warming up already, but from the inside, from this foreign feeling of being cared for.

In the distance, the wolf was watching. His fur so white made him stand out from the fainter tone of the snow. As the wanderer he is, the lone wolf invites to explore the trails yet unblazed. Would Per understand this sign? Would he travel on this foreign road? Only time would tell, but Pelle would not forget his fall into the uncanny valley any time soon.

[aleatory-eyes]

Moment of discovery

Yandere hawks x fem reader

Summary: every relationship experience a 'moment of discovery'. Is when you realize a side of the other person that you didn't see at the beginning. Could be...that he secretly has feelings about you, maybe a weird kink or something darker.

Tw: yandere, explosion, being chased?

I DON'T CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR. THIS IS FICTIONAL! PURE FICTION!

You are a first year college student, fresh out of high school. Discovering your likes and dislikes, hanging out with a ton of new people and enjoying your classes.

Back in your hometown your quirk was quite known, your white wings definitely stranded out from your peers. Did that mean you were popular? No, quite the opposite, your shy nature and geeky interests separated from your classmates.

You still maked some friends of course. But after high school everyone went on different paths. You would missed them for sure but your own dreams were also waiting in a big city.

That's why upon your arrival to Musutafu city, you had been working in you social abilities as much as possible. You were dead set on making friends and maybe ... a boyfriend? You blush a litle at that last statement.

Every thing was working out so well, you were in your dorm chatting with Sophie (your roommate). When suddenly you heard a big explosion and not even a minute later the sirens starts going off. The both of you grabbed your most important belongings, in your case your ID and your phone, and run off to the closest emergency exit.

All of a sudden, a big nomu appeared in front of you. "Damm it" you muttered under your breath. Quickly you extended your wings and picked up your roommate before flying in the opposite direction of the threat.

Fuck.fuck.fuck. Your heart was going a 200 mph but you couldn't stop, not if you valued your life and the one you were carrying."SOPHIE?" You screamed at her, but she had already passed out. This was hard, you didn't know how much longer you could keep up escaping . Especially with some extra pounds.

As if God had listened to your players, a hero showed in front of your tired body. With Big beautiful crimson wings that adorned his built. He gave you a comforting smile prior to landing a kick in the face of the villain behind you. That gave you enough time to get out of the building and withdraw far away of the battle.

---

Few hours had passed, and Now safe in a hospital's room, you watch over the unconscious Sophie while listening to the tv. It seems that your campus was attacked by a famous villain association , yet they were no match for the heroes. Later you discover your savior went by the name Hawks, it defently fits him you think.

Someone knocks on the door "come in" you said lazily, expecting a doctor to check on your roommate and maybe yourself as well. You eyes wide open in surprise as you see him again. Immediately you rise from the chair, almost knocking it over. "Thank you so much for savings us this morning sir!" You enthusiastically voice out your gratitude with a deep bow to your savior.

He has a siniester smile plasted in his face, not at all suitable for a hero. But you didn't get to see it, since you were bowing so low that the only thing about him you could discern was his shoes. You lift your head and meet his gold eyes, the dilated pupil catches your attention. "Its nothing, rescuing cute chicks like you is the best part of the job" he says with a small chuckle. Out of embarrassment you look away. You were about to mutter another "thanks y-" but the hand approaching your wings stops you. "you didn't get hurt while escaping that monster, right angel? " he express his concern while he stars to caress your feathers. You freeze.

"What are you doing?" You try to say but the words won't come out of your mouth. Instead you ruffle your wings a litle, and take a few steps back. He catches the indirect and apologizes grabbing his head with his hand. "Ow! Sorry cutie! Your feathers seemed really soft and curiosity took the best of me" he sighs giving you puppy eyes. "Oh, is alright ... I guess it was a bird instinct " this time you where the one chuckling trying to ease the tension.

He... he was just curious, relax Y/N you're overthinking you try to convince yourself. But deep down you know something isn't right. You don't have time to dwell in the thought much as you hear a pained moan from behind you "ugh, what ... is happening?" Sophie manages to utter.

You rush to her side and give her a bear hug. You sight in relief prior to letting her go and focus your attention in the man you've ignored a few minutes. "Well...you probably known him. And he also is the one that saved us from our certain death" you speak, leaving the poor girl at shock.

"Actually you should thank your friend." He said to your roommate with a stern face almost angry "she refused to leave you behind and flew with you. She saved you just like an angel" a stange glow appeared in his eyes when he pronounced that last word.

You weren't sure before, but now...you're convinced that something is wrong with him. Your instincts begging you to leave. "Well..., Let's move on! The past is the past and we are all here safe and sound." you state with a cheerful tone and picking up your things (you didn't over did it with the enthusiasm, right?) "Its getting late and we should go home. And I don't want to take more of your precious time sir.Hawks" you continue with a big fake smile.

"Sorry Y/N, I don't feel very well. My family is probably coming soon and I would prefer to stay one night in the hospital just in case." Sophie declares and your plan to get away from this man as fast as posible with her completely crumbles. And what's worse is that your savior ( is not as comfortable calling him that now) seems to have a better idea. "What about I take you to a shelter to get a good night of sleep? You must be tired." he is right, you're tired but your wings are in good condition maybe you could fl- "And for security reasons only heroes are allowed to use their quirks tonight. That means no flying cutie" he winks at you. He knew what you were thinking all along.

And after some back and forth, Sophie manages to convince you that is safer to let the hero accompany you. "Please Y/N, think about it logically" her words making you reconsider, and you finally accept. Your instinct could be wrong after all.

Or did you accidentally catch a glimpse at a evil side of him ?

This is a part 1

Part 2 is already up

If you liked don't forget to leave me a heart / reblog 🥰

Wanting more? Check my masterlist

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episode 1 Subbed (Finalized Re-Release)

(Original Finalized Release Post)

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-1: Yugi's Successor

On his way to the Entrance Exams for the Duel Academia High School, Judai Yuki meets the legendary duelist Yugi Mutou and receives a card from him. Running late, Judai arrives at the venue and requests to take his exam, but Instructor Chronos sees Judai's exam as pointless given his lackluster score on the written exam. A duel begins between Judai and Chronos, and Chronos's rare Antique Gear Golem card uses its powerful 3000 ATK to damage Judai. His back against the wall, Judai hears the voice of a Monster--which turns out to belong to the card he received from Yugi, Winged Kuriboh...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...I first posted the original finalized version of this episode almost 10 years ago??? Time is an illusion...

Fresh off the presses, it's a re-finalized version of my episode 1 subs! Well, probably re-re-re-re-finalized given my penchant for consistency and quality after previous revisions in the past 2-3 years, between fixing a handful of animation errors and terminology revisions... But this one merited a new post not so much for any updated translations, but because after casually skimming through this episode a while back, I noticed more animation errors, all card-related, that I'm now able to fix as I have for episodes since. You know the deal with this one, I'm sure; new kid on the block bumps into the Game King himself as he runs late for his Academia exam and manages to hit one of the school's best with his skills--literally. Fun opening episode to a fun series.

With this, I'm hoping to officially call this episode finalized for good, mainly because the kind of annoying thing about doing further revisions now is that, thanks to my solid-state drive (SSD) failing in October of 2022, I lost my personal copies of the episode scripts with the ATK/DEF counters I stylize and all, so it means I have to cut/stitch together different parts of the episode between the fixes I applied and the previous hardsub to account for the stat-counter subs or the eyecatch subs I started doing--since the softsub MKVs I release don't have those specific subs, they're easier to update. So I hopefully shouldn't be touching anything before episode 84 (the first one I finalized after getting a new drive) again and those can ideally be considered finalized for good. I'm hoping I can also give that title to 84-109 (where I currently am), but I'd like to think I didn't miss anything, lol.

Anyway, as mentioned, this revision applies several card-related fixes to the episode, some of which replicate fixes 4Kids did for the dub that I took a cue from. The fixes were added to the last DVDRip I released, subsequently made into a new softsub MKV, both of which will be up on NAC soon with the updated hardsub. List below the cut below as always, for the interested~ (Nice thing with some of these is that the frame rate was usually consistent, which meant that editing most panning shots and the occasional zoom shots were usually more of a breeze than later on, haha.)

Enjoy, folks; with this out of the way, since it's been about two weeks since 108 and 109 were finished up, I'll start setting up stuff for finalizing 110 while doing a little more TFSP work here/there before I fully start on 110 sometime next week. Stay tuned!

Fixes & Edits!

*The bolded edits below were applied back in 2021 and were added into the original release post; adding them here for completeness.

Applied a card back to an orange rectangle that was a face-down card during the panning shot of the Exam Duels going on over the episode’s opening narration as it fades to Chronos watching, repeating the edit as it pans back around again before fading to Manjoume and Ryou/Asuka watching.

As Misawa's exam proctor says that he stands no chance against his Super Defense Deck, the blank-art cards on his Disk for Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem the Moving Fortress are reversed (the wider side for the effect box should be on the right). Fixed by applying proxies on them for a frame in AfterEffects, masking in the card outlines for blending, before taking that frame into Sony Vegas and zooming it out for the zoom shot here.

As Misawa's Ring of Destruction destroys Vorse Raider, we see the smoke rush onto the proctor's side of the field--and as we do, we can quickly see the blank-art Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem cards on his Disk are again reversed before the smoke covers them. Fixed first in AfterEffects by slapping the proxies on for a frame, then in Vegas by taking that frame into and keyframing it to the rapid panning shot for most of its 17 frames. (Incidentally, throughout this scene, a different error happens in the dub, where aside from keeping the cards' orientation on the proctor's Disk incorrect, they also shuffle between Gear Golem and Big Shield Gardna being Normal or Effect Monsters--bit of an identity crisis!)

Fixed the error with Misawa’s LP dropping to zero after he uses Ring of Destruction to finish his Exam Duel; should have dropped to 1300.

After the proctor's LP drop to zero, he congratulates Misawa on his win, but the Gear Golem card on his Disk is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying my proxy for a few frames, then taking one of those frames into Vegas to lightly keyframe as the shot pans left. (As a fun editing aside, I could tell 4Kids likely edited this in a similar way to how I did because as the cards fade out, you can briefly see some residue of Manjoume's hair outline on Big Shield Gardna's card which they didn't cover up; I definitely made sure I went the extra mile with redrawing the arena floor to cover that haha.)

After Misawa thanks the proctor, we zoom out to Manjoume in the stands as the Solid Vision fades out, but the cards under Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem are--you guessed it--reversed. Fixed in a few ways, with the goal being to redo Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem fading out--first, in Vegas, I took the first frame after they're gone and zoomed it into place at the start of the zoom, which let me cover up Gear Golem and most of Big Shield Guardna, but because Manjoume's hair moves upward as the shot zooms out, doing this means I couldn't fully cover it. So, I then took this first post-fadeout frame into Photoshop, where I used the Clone Tool to duplicate the arena floor and cover up the rest of Big Shield Guardna, reinserting it into Vegas and applying the zoom keyframes I did to the earlier frames to it--this lets my edited frame properly zoom out with the shot. Once done, I went into AfterEffects and applied the Big Shield and Gear Golem proxies onto the shot's first frame, masking them above the cards, then took that frame into Vegas to zoom out with the shot (rather easily, luckily, thanks to the frame rate note I mentioned up top), masked out Big Shield and Gear Golem and made them fade out into the edited frame in the layer below. With that set, all I had left was to go back and mask Manjoume's hair back above the edits for the duration of the fade, which was pretty easy, and boom goes the dynamite.

After Judai's duel with Chronos starts, he summons out Elemental Hero Featherman, but the card gets placed reversed on his Disk. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a proxy first to one frame during the initial light zoom-out in the shot, taking the fixed frame into Vegas to re-zoom and hold once the zoom was over.

Chronos reacts to Featherman's summon, and as Featherman lands in front of Judai, his card on his Disk is reversed again, but also as the screen pans right, for a few frames as Judai moves to then place a card face-down, the shadow under his left leg goes from being more gray to black, turning back to gray once he stops moving. Fixed in AfterEffects first by placing a correctly facing proxy on his Disk for a frame, which I then took into Vegas and re-panned into the shot; while in Vegas, I then masked in the gray leg shadow over the black, masking in part of Featherman's ATK/DEF counter over the edit to blend it in.

In the next shot, as Judai ends his turn and their LP counters pop up, the Featherman card under him on the field is reversed; fixed in AfterEffects by slapping in a proxy, masking Featherman back in above it.

[cont below]

(10) After Chronos uses Confiscation, as he sends Judai's Revival of the Dead/Monster Reborn to his Cemetery, a few things happen: 1) the Featherman card on his field under him on the field is facing Chronos in Attack Mode, and 2) it's in the wrong Zone on Judai's Disk, as it should be in Monster Zone 3. I fixed this a few ways, first fixing the Featherman-on-field aspect in AfterEffects, applying a Defense-Mode proxy under Featherman and masking him and Judai back over it; I then took a cue from 4Kids and took the frame immediately after his Cemetery stops being lit up (but before Judai starts to move) and the frames as Judai moves into Photoshop, where I copied the empty Zone 1 into place over Zone 2, blending it in with some minor editing, and combined it with the AfterEffects edit I then did by applying a Featherman proxy in Defense Mode to Zone 3. After throwing everything into Vegas, I then applied some masking to a solid-white color layer to replicate the lights coming from Judai's Cemetery slot (helped by the fact that, luckily, the lights don't move). (The dub, for their part, only handled the Disk aspect, applying a weird light to cover up their Zone 2 edit while the Graveyard was lit up, leaving the Featherman card on the field as it originally was, OCG format and all lol.)

(11) Chronos activating Heavy Storm causes a huge storm of wind on the field, and as it gets to Judai's field, we see that the Defense-Mode Featherman card on the field under Featherman is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects, applying a proxy in a frame where most of the card was visible and masking Featherman back above it, then taking that frame into Vegas where I first redid the panning that happens, then I created a solid-color layer colored like the wind and applied some masking to replicate the gusts of wind that blow over the card.

(12) After Chronos summons his Wicked Lord Tokens and the crowd reacts, the smoke on the field from their summon simmers down, but the Featherman card under Featherman is reversed again. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a correctly facing proxy and then masking Featherman back on top.

(13) After the commercial break, fixed the error with a Ra Yellow student’s miscolored jacket as he and the others watch Antique Gear Golem being summoned, thanks to thepalebride’s help.

(14) After crowd reaction to Antique Gear Golem being summoned, Asuka looks out onto the field and says she unfortunately heard the sound of the Academia's gates closing shut for Judai--as she does, we see that the blank-art card under Featherman is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying a proxy under him in the first frame of the shot and masking him back on top, then taking that frame into Vegas where I re-panned it as the shot pans upward.

(15) After a brief blush, Judai summons out Winged Kuriboh, but he places it reversed on his Disk--and in the very next shot, it's correctly facing such that its name box is to our left. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a proxy as he places it on his Disk, masking his fingers over it.

(16) After Antique Gear Golem destroys Winged Kuriboh and Judai tells Chronos that it reduces his damage to zero--to Asuka's shock--Judai takes Winged Kuriboh off his Disk and places it in his Cemetery slot in a quick shot, but the card is reversed again. Also fixed by 4Kids, I fixed this in AfterEffects by applying a proxy facing correctly in the frames in which Judai moves it.

(17) After summoning Flame Wingman, and after some taunting from Chronos, Judai activates an arena as heroic as he is in Skyscraper, but as he does so, Flame Wingman is missing from his Disk, as it should be in Zone 3. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying a proxy (after finding the best-quality screenshot of Wingman's anime art and touching it up using an AI tool [I think I settled on Waifu]), fading it in as the scene fades from the Judai closeup to Judai about to swing his Disk around, and adding it as he does so, then applying a brightening and dimming as the Solid Vision lights go on around him. Once I did that, I went into Vegas and applied some masking on the little flickers that pop up over that zone to blend the edit in. (Side-Note: while dubifying the Skyscraper card in Judai's hand, 4Kids forgot to mask in his thumb over it, begging the question... how is Jaden holding that?)

(18) Fixed the blank Normal Monster card that should be Flame Wingman, both as Antique Gear Golem crashes onto Chronos and as the duel fades to an end.

[beneathsakurashade]

ᴋɪᴛꜱᴜɴᴇ ʏᴏᴍᴇɪʀɪ - Tɯιʂƚҽԃ Wσɳԃҽɾʅαɳԃ x Gҽɳʂԋιɳ Rҽαԃҽɾ Chapter: 4

"The echo in the mirror!"

Shion wasn't sure why their day had to end up so shitty, it should've been easy, cleaning a part of the school and boom.  Done for the day, nothing more, nothing less.  But no, some acehole had to tic them and their friend off, then cause a prized statue to be burnt.  THEN as if fate hadn't punished them enough, their friend had to run up on a chandelier and then it came crashing down.  Sure, they wasn’t the bravest student back home, but they were by no means a jumpy student either. But going from being ignored completely to suddenly being the talk of the school was something they were not even close to getting used to.  Besides this whole ordeal seemed awfully similar to a game that their cousin had ranted about.  The main character gets sent to a school in a new world, and they have to help seven students after they overblot.  Wait…what if they were now the main character?  Would merch be made of them in their old world?  Would they have fans?  Shion was zapped out of their thoughts as they noticed Y/N looking at them from across the cafeteria.  Staring at them and their friends like the group were enacting a scene from a drama.  Once he noticed that Crowley had left, he approached the group. 

“So you’re telling me that you not only damaged a Statue of Seven but you also shattered a chandelier?” You dryly ask the three humans and that bakeneko. You notice that the two humans beside the magicless one are Ace and Deuce. “Hey! You’re probably the same age as us!” Ace Trappola cries back, (You found out more info about him by asking around after the dinner). You discovered that his brother taught him various magic tricks, that Ace broke up with his middle school girlfriend after he got bored. You learned more then you cared about this rather annoying personality. You also learned quite a bit about Deuce Spade, a former middle school delinquent. He changed his ways after finding out how much it actually affected his mom. He came to Night Raven in hopes of starting fresh, dyed his hair a new color, and adopted a new honor’s student personality. All that you found out about the magicless human and bakeneko was their name, Shion meant remembrance in the Inazuman language of flowers. They came from a world without magic. While Grim had a rather strong fondness for tuna.

You sigh “What foolish creatures you all are…” you turn to face Ace. “And actually, I am older than you indignant-I mean you’re right, we’re the same age”. Shion smiles nervously, “Say, Y/N…is it possible for us to gather around a billion thaumarks by tomorrow?” You pale and sigh “Well you four would need to become some sort of MagiTok celebrities overnight or marry some absurdly rich person” Ace shrugs “Welp, we better start practicing our dancing skills then…I mean Juice and I could always start a prank channel” Deuce looks at him confused “H-HUH? No way! Also its Deuce with a D!” You sigh airily. “I can assure you though, that no well-to-do family would have anything to do with you all. Much less marry you”. Ace and Deuce look offended and Shion looks confused. “You” you point to Ace “Are horribly crass, no decent family would allow their heir to marry you”. You point to Deuce “You are far too dense, you’d be more akin to the desperate pauper after the princesses’ hand than the prince”. Lastly you turn to Shion “Your only fault would be that you haven’t a single penny to your name”.

“How in the Seven’s name did you even manage to burn a statue and shatter a chandelier in the same day? Mere hours apart no less, has fate damned you to poor luck?” You ask exasperated. “Welll, Ace started the fight, and then he ended up causing Grim to burn the statue of the Queen of Hearts. Then the Headmage gave us a punishment of washing a hundred windows, so Grim and I starting washing them. But we noticed that Ace wasn’t with us and then we realized that his bitchass wasn't even planning on helping us. Grim and I found him doing shit, so we dragged Deuce into this and Ace got a cauldron dropped on him. Then Grim ran away so we had to chase after him, Grim ran up on a chandelier for whatever reason. So when we launched Ace up there we broke the chandelier. Then Headmage appeared outta nowhere and said that he'd expel us or something, I was too busy thinking about all the ways I'd murder Ace and Grim-I mean um anyway. So basically we have to find a replacement magestone for the one that we wrecked, so I guess we'll have to go mine and craft for whatever the hell a magestone is. But Crowley also said that they’re impossible to find in that mine…”.

How did they even manage to cause such a commotion?  On the first day of school no less?  I admire their bravery, risking expulsion on the first day is no easy feat...You silently ponder and respond to Shion "I see, well then, I suppose that you need help?" Ace shakes his head "Hell nah, we're goo-" Shion interrupts him "Ace, your ass can't even wash a hundred windows.  It isn't up to you if we need help or not".  They smile "You don't have to help us if you don't wanna Y/N, some people wanna mind their own business.  That's fine with me".  You nod, "So you don't need any help...very well, I shall step aside and let you all handle it.  I have things to do in the meantime".  You rise from your seat and excuse yourself to return to your dorm.  “May fate bless you” you bow and pull a small charm out of one of your pockets, a bright red omamori.  “This is blessed with good fortune, as well as a protection charm”.  You hand it to Shion.  "How do we know that is ain't actually a curse?" Ace remarks suspicious "I don't think that someone would curse us though" Deuce replies.  Shion sighs "If it ends up being cursed I'm giving it to Ace".  

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

Magicless Human Shion Yuukuro POV

    Shion blinks as they're sent in front of a picturesque cottage near the forest, "Did we sneak onto the set of the live action Snow White or some shit?  This is way too pretty to be real..." a gentle stream and bridge are set near the cottage.  "So this is Dwarfs' Mine.  Long ago, there were tons of magestones here..." Deuce says amazed.  "Urgh... Who knows what lurks there now?" Grim mumbles "You act like you're not one of the reasons we're stuck here.  I hate this, playing Minecraft at night was scary enough as a kid.  But experiencing it in real life is not fun".  Shion quips.  "Hey there's a house over there, lets see if people are there" Ace smiles "Do you really think that some family is gonna be nice to random ass teens who just knocked on their door in the middle of the night?" Shion replies. 

Deuce knocks on the door gently "Helloooo? Anyone home?" there's no answer. He opens the door and the three of them stare at the open room. Spiders had turned this home into their own, spinning cobwebs that hung around the roof and draped down like curtains. There was evidence of animals inhabiting the cottage, as there were shells and scraps of material scattered around the floor. Grim sputtered out something as he caught a cobweb on his face. "Hey, look at these desks and chairs, they're tiny. Did kids live here or something?" Ace says and Shion respond sarcastically "Well maybe I dunno, dwarfs lived here? Y'know like the miners?". Ace glares at them and continues looking around the cottage "Seven? Damn, that's more than I expected…" Deuce nods "It must have been a lively place". "If we're lookin' for a magestone maybe we should be lookin' in the mine?" Grim pipes up. Ace, Deuce and Shion pause as they remember the reason that they all came here for.

Shion finds a pickaxe left by the door, and the four of them head into the mines. "Wait weren't minors banned from working in the mines like a hundred years ago?" they say aloud "And kids play Minecraft nowadays…wait, is this a sign that minors long for the mines to mine minerals?" Ace pauses and responds "What the fuck are you yapping about, Shion?" they shrug in response "Ignore me, I'm rhetorically speaking". "Wait… you two are in the same dorm as Y/N, right?" Shion starts "Yup, he's a weird guy" Ace shrugs as they walk deeper into the mines "I wouldn't say he's weird, he was pretty nice when we chatted at the dinner last night" Deuce contends. Walking through the mine Shion can't help but wince at the recollection of Crowley's rant about them being expelled.

Grim was still reeling from dizziness due to him falling from the chandelier.  While Crowley explained that the chandelier was a prized artifact, with a hefty price attached.  "I'll pay anything!" Deuce cries determinedly "No less than a billion thaumarks" Crowley announces.  Shion scoffs internally 'Oh so bro can spend a fuck billion of thaumarks on fucking chandeliers but is too broke to give a homeless student decent housing?  His priorities are more skewed than mine'.  Ace pales and Deuce's look of determination fades into despair "W-what?!  How am I gonna tell my mother...".  Shion's face contorts at the mention of more than a couple hundred thaumarks "That's not what I was expecting... I already spend a shit ton of money on gacha games, no way in hell am I gonna be able to afford a billion dollars".  Crowley continues "There is a sliver of a chance that you can repair this chandelier" Ace and Deuce brighten up "There is?!" Shion whispers "I bet the Headmage is gonna say something like, 'oh well actually, it can be fixed but you need to climb a mountain that's like hundreds of miles away and then you need to wake a sleeping dragon, beat them, then gain access to a flower that only blooms once in a million years, but the only way you can find that flower is by using some amulet or some shit".  They catch the slightest look of confusion from Deuce as they whisper their rant.  The Headmage nods "Yes, the magestone used for this was mined in the Dwarfs' Mine.  Alas, there most likely aren't any more magestones left, but there is a possibility".  Shion runs the possibilities through their mind, wait... they're probably the mc right?  Oh, great, so they have plot armor on their side.  They also couldn't help feeling bad for Deuce, bro's probably stressed as hell wondering how to explain to his mom that three dumbasses got him expelled from Royale High on his first day.  "By next morning, if you all fail to return with a magestone, you are all expelled". 

The three passed the time by referencing dead memes and jokes so depraved that Shion could hear Deuce muffle his laughter.  They had a friend that did that back home, they seemed to be the perfect kid, never swore, stayed quiet, always studied, but they contained their obvious laughter at certain jokes.  Deuce interrupts their flashback as he shouts "There's something there!" Grim shouts "Myah!?" and the three are faced with two ghosts, oddly similar to the ones back at Ramshackle, to be honest, the only thing different is that they're wearing grey hooded cloaks. They low-key remind Shion of the cloaks that Anneliese and Erika wear when they sing about how similar they are even though one is a princess and the other is an indentured servant…  "Visitors!  The first in ten years!" they laugh in glee.  "Ah hell nah" Shion sighs in annoyance, they all take a run for it while Ace and Deuce occasionally turn around to fire spells at the ghosts.  "My legs are gonna give out..." they mutter I suck at P.E., why is this damn mine so damn long?! they think and halt as their friends stop.  "D-did we lose them?" Deuce sighs out of breath.  "We gotta keep going" Ace says and you all continue running.  The group only pauses because Ace says that the reason they're here is because of Deuce's stunt.  "Well maybe you shouldn't have avoided your washing duties!" he replies.

"Oh so we're bringing back ancient history now?  How about this all started because someone set fire to a statue!" Ace fires back.

"Myah?!  Well ya' shouldn'ta made fun of me!" Grim cries back.

"All of you shut the fuck up!  Who cares who started this who mess, it was Ace by the way, but ignoring that.  We're all stuck here now so let's finish this" Shion groans.

    Your argument is paused by an ominous voice muttering in the distance "...neeevvvaaa... ...iiivvv... ...ooouuu...".  Deuce says nervously "It sounds like its... getting closer".  The voice repeats "...iiivvv... oooouuu...".  The source of the voice comes into view.  It's a large monster, similarly dressed to one of the dwarfs from Snow White, but with a round bottle filled with what seems to be ink for a head.  And it's body seems to have been covered with it, the pungent stench of ink fills their senses.

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

   Kitsune Hime POV

    Ramshackle is a fitting name for a dorm straight out of a horror film.  Though an even more fitting name would be Wuthering Heights, with the whole dilapidated gothic aesthetic.  The outside isn’t too disappointing, other than the few tombstones in the front yard, but that usually means the inside was.  You open the door barely attached to it’s hinges.  The creaks hurt your ears as you step inside. However the inside is indeed worse, much worse, the living room is as inviting as a poltergeist can make.  Furniture is scattered around the floor, paintings hanging on the wall are either set tilted or strewn down.  Cobwebs hang like a cloud from the ceiling.  The windows are cracked in dismay and the ceiling would often let out droplets of rain.  You sigh “My my my…this is definitely going to take some work…” Summoning a broom you snap and the broom starts to sweep. You decide to summon a sponge and bucket to clean the windows.  In a few hours the windows are clean, albeit still cracked, and the floors are dust-free.  The furniture is all set properly, and you decide that as a courtesy, you’ll sew some new coverings for the couch and chairs.  “Let’s see, I’ll need a lot of yards of fabric to sew new covers for the cushions".  You ponder for a few seconds before nodding, "Hmph, Yuukuro is lucky that I take pity upon their plight!” After finding enough fabric to sew some cushions you smile proudly.  “Yuukuro should be returning from their excavation soon.  That will give me enough time to set this place straight" you use various patterns of lavender colored fabric, as well as some thread and sewing materials. You set your bag of materials down, and start to sew with magic, humming to yourself.

For some reason you took a liking to Shion, perhaps it was because you were both from worlds other than Twisted Wonderland.  You sought to look after them, why?  These thoughts swirled around in your head.  After many hours you've created both cushions and a plush blanket for the prefect, as well as a few pillowcases to match. 

    You remember seeing Lilia at the Orientation.  You were still waiting eagerly for the opportunity to meet him, there was something  different, something off about him.  You saw him attending to the student whom you later learned was Silver.  Last time you met, he absolutely despised human, much like yourself.

In a luxurious bedroom a small young girl sits on her older sister’s lap as they sit at the vanity.  The two girls is that had both have fox ears and tail, the older sister dressed in a fancy light cerulean kimono gently brushes her sister’s H/C hair.  “Remember my sister, never look at a human.  They might see that as a form of challenging” the older sister says and continues to brush her sister’s hair, tying it up into a tight bun and pushing an ornate hair clip into the bun. Her sister nods and waits eagerly as her sister applies a light rouge to her own lips and then to her sister’s.  “Mother is having me married off soon, and you shall follow after me” the older sister continues.  “But I don’t want to get married!” The younger sisters cries “Hush now, cease those tears, you know what Mother would say if she saw your that your makeup was ruined by tearstains”.  Her sister chides.  

“But what if I get married to a mean man?” The younger sister almost bursts into tears at the mere thought “If that happens I’ll kill him” her sister smiles “No one will know that it was me”.  The younger sister smiles excitedly “I love you elder sister!”     The sister smiles in return “I love you as well, but those words are heavy, only say them to those that you mean them to”.  She warns.       The two head into town dressed in the attire of nobility.  “Close your eyes when I tell you to” the elder sister demands as they head closer to a building with bright red lights.  You cover your eyes with your hands and carefully peek through the cracks in your blindfold.  You can make out the faint outlines of men and women barely covered by their kimonos.  "Elder sister, where are we?" Your sister ignores the question and pulls you along.  As you enter a building the scent of expensive perfume surrounds you.  “This is my job, Y/N, and I expect you to be on your best behavior in front of my coworkers” your sister smiles “A-alright Suzu” you mutter nervously and follow as she leads you up a staircase.  “You don’t have to cover your eyes anymore” she sighs as you both enter a room.  You hear a haughty voice that you don’t recognize calling out to your sister “Suzuran, what in the Archons are you doing bringing your sister here?  To a brothel of all places?” You look behind the shelf hiding the source of the voice and catch sight of a young man.

His back turned to the both of you, you can see a rich purple kimono draped on his arms.  A sort of purple mist hangs around him, and you notice the bright cyan of an Anemo Vision.  Light blonde hair dusted with powder, and tied into a tight bun.  “Honestly, this is definitely one of your more foolish decisions” he sighs and brings out a fan the same color of his kimono.  “Aw, is this how you greet a good friend?  Your manners have gotten deplorable, Sumiko.  My Archons, it’s no wonder no man or woman would pay for a night with you”.  Suzuran smirks and sighs playfully “Ah, but I suppose that you can’t help it, your standards are far too high for even the most affluent of samurai”.  This Sumiko huffs annoyed and turns to the left, and your E/C eyes meet his, electric purple.  Akin to Miko’s, you shudder at the thought of the conniving kitsune that your sister was close friends with.      

“Hm, you don’t look half-bad, though I suppose that’s to be expected from a family of your status little L/n” he smiles slightly “I suppose that I should formally introduce myself.  Forget everything that Suzu has told you about me.  I am Sumiko Hanamitsu, one of the most expensive kitsune at this brothel”. You heard of the Hanamitsu family, a kitsune family famous for their perfumes.  They’re close acquaintances with the Kamisato clan.  In fact, you attended a wedding between one of their sons and a daughter of the Kamisatos.  But to have one of their sons working at a brothel… how unexpected.  “Do not expect me to be kind and caring little one.  This world is cruel, and so am I” Sumiko admits while he fans himself in boredom.          That was many a century ago… you sigh as the imaginary curtain closes on your play from the past.  Teleporting back to your shared room at Heartslabyul, saying goodnight to Jayden before you tuck yourself into bed.  You silently pray for Shion and their friends' success you watch as the hours melt together and change into a new morning.   

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

Magicless Human Shion Yuukuro POV

    “Stooonesss… Stooonesss aaare miiiiine!” The creature cries in a voice that drags them down like a weight in an inky ocean.  It’s pained in a desperate way, almost making them feel bad for it.  Pure terror glues you all to your spots, but unfortunately, the potential danger doesn't shut Grim up.  “Myah!  I wasn’t expecting monsters in here!” Grim shouts.  “What were you expecting, Grim?  There to be just spiders?  With our luck? Hell no” Shion sighs wearily.  "What even is that thing?  Didn't it just say something about 'stones'?" Ace says pale.  "Wait... so there are still magestones here!" Deuce smiles.  But he's quickly hit by the monster, and Ace comes to his defense.  "Ey!  Stay away from me!" Grim shouts and spouts fire at the monster.  Shion grabs him up the his collar and holds him against their chest, "We've gotta get outta here, guys!" they shout.

The four of them run out of the cave and Ace huffs out of breath "No one said there'd be anything like that". Deuce responds "There's no way we can beat that thing", and Ace says back "Let's just give up, it ain't worth the work anymore man. I'm gonna just accept that fucking expulsion, cause I do not wanna fight that thing again”. Deuce huffs in response “Nuh-uh! I’d rather die than be expelled!” “Big talk from someone half the mage I am. If ya’ want the stone so badly, why dontcha’ get it yourself?! Cause I’m out” Ace fires. “Fine, go back to your coop then, chicken!” Deuce cries and his expression darkens. “What are these middle school ass insults?” Shion groans and rubs their temple. “Whoa, Deuce like… turned into a totally different person… scary” Grim mutters nervously and cuddles into Shion’s arms. Deuce coughs and his expression changes yet again, “M-my bad. Lost my cool there, sorry”. Shion nods “It’s alright, but uh, what now? We can’t go back and fight that thing” Grim looks up at them “Why not? Can’t they just blast it with magic?” Deuce shrugs sadly “Nope, different kinds of magic and strong spells require training that we don’t have”. “Duh, that’s why magic academies exist” Ace nods. “Besides, the more flustered a mage is, the worse their spell game is”. “Is that why Grim sucks at magic?” Shion says.

"Nah, though, magic comes easier to some than others” Ace shrugs “Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Deuce smiles.  “Yeaaaah, last time we did that, we ended up in this whole shitshow.  We fought that thing and it creamed us.  What exactly is your plan?  I sure don’t trust you to improvise”.  Shion notices Deuce getting more annoyed with every word outta Ace’s mouth.  “Y’know Ace, I’m not sure that you used the right words…” they mutter.  Deuce cracks his knuckles "Oh so we're gonna go at it again, huh?".  Shion thinks I swear to the Archons, if these shits start another yap session, I'm actually going to have that thing kill me.  By some grace, the two of them agree to put their shared braincell to work. 

┏━━━ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ━━━┓ Fun Facts

Y/N originally was forbidden to learn sewing, but convinced her mother to let her.

Shion thinks they should give Ace bacon flavored crickets when they all get back

[prismuffin]

Toms Peter x black witch male reader ?,

maybe like a roof date where Peter conveniently forgets everything so reader saves the day? 🤭

A/n: Oooooo alright alright I'm down with this.

Best one yet

MCU!Peter Parker x black!male!witch!Reader

( summary: Peter was running late for your annual rooftop date causing him to forget everything he planned on bringing, but that's ok 'cause you've been meaning to spoil him more anyway )

warnings?: light swearing, mentions of magic and spells, witchcraft jokes,

f/c means favorite color

!-!more under the cut!-!

Peter cursed as he barely dodged a building, he was swinging rather quickly through the city. He'd gotten detention which held him back for about an hour after school which wasn't good because he has made plans to meet you afterwards. He stopped at home to change quickly before heading right back out to see you, hoping that his texts that he'd sent with his schools terrible internet had went through. With one final swing, he flipped onto the rooftop of a tall building, landing with a thud as he caught his breath. There you sat, your pretty dark skin looked stunning against the setting sun and he sighed, his eyes meeting yours. "I-I am so sorry I'm late! Mr. Harrington gave me detention and it completely threw my entire schedule off!" He rambled, taking off his mask as he neared your form, dropping to sit right beside you. "It's fine Peter I got your texts," You waved him off, scooting a bit closer to him to kiss his cheek in a greeting. He smiled at the affection, "where's the food?" You asked, and Peter's smile slipped off of his face. He groaned, shoving his face in his hands as he flopped onto his back. "I knew I was forgetting something." You heard him mumble from his hands before he lowered them to peek at you, who had moved so that you were now hovering over him. "Sorry Y/n...I was in such a rush to get here that I forgot everything.." You chuckled and shrugged, "It's alright Petey, I got this alright?" He quirked his brow, watching you as you stood up.

Shaking off your hypothetical nerves you shot Peter a wink before positioning your hands across each other. They glowed a dull f/c that brightened the longer your held their position. With a quick flip of your hand you'd conjured up a large blanket, pulling it from god knows where until the entire thing was set in your hands. "..woah..." Peter mumbled as you spread the blanket onto the concrete rooftop. "Your magic is so pretty Y/n," Peter scooted himself onto the newly placed blanket, spreading his fingers across the soft material that he assumed was cotton. Sitting across from him, you smiled, "Well you're gonna be seeing a lot more of it since you forgot everything~" You teased him and he sighed before apologizing again. "It's alright Pete, I'm just joking. At least this gives me an excuse to practice a few new spells." You dug through your bag, pulling out three crystals that Peter definitely didn't know the name of despite you ranting to him about the different types constantly. You placed them in a triangular formation before you began your second spell. Peter leaned in a bit closer, watching you with intent and curiosity as you started muttering what he could only assume is an incantation under your breath. Peter almost audibly laughed as he witnessed you pull out a wand from your bag, it's just so cliché that you'd have a wand though he knows better than to distract you while you're attempting a spell. Last time he did, you accidentally turned him into a talking frog. He shuddered at the memory, watching as your hands glowed that same f/c as before, the color making its way to the very tip of your wand. Your wand glowed especially bright as you aimed it down towards the crystals. Peter had to shut his eyes at the amount of light that had come from you.

Opening his eyes again, he stared in awe as full plates of fresh hot food, mostly pastas, were sat on the blanket along with what appeared to be sparkling cider. Glancing up he realized that f/c sparkles surrounded him, they were almost like floating stars. They twinkled, and when he touched one it only exploded into more little sparkles. His eyes snapped back to your form at the sound of pouring liquid, he blushed as you stared at him with sultry eyes, pouring the sparkling cider into the glass closest to him. " This took a lot out of me ya know, so please eat it all." He laughed, quickly covering his mouth to hide it as you switched to pouring a drink for yourself. "I will, it all looks really good! You didn't have to conjure all of this up I would've been fine with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." He grabbed his utensils and started to dig in, his eyes widening at the taste of the food. "It's fine, I've been meaning to spoil you a bit more." You shrugged and he hummed, "This is so good! Oh my god it's like, the best lasagna I've ever tasted!" "The best?" "The best!" He swallowed and smiled, leaning over the blanket to place a quick kiss to your lips. You hummed at the feeling before digging into your meal yourself.

You both talked about anything and everything as you ate. The dark sky mixed with the glow of the f/c sparkles that surrounded you both only added to the romantic atmosphere. Reaching over, Peter grabbed one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together as he stared at you with half lidded eyes. "You sure you didn't slip a love potion into this cider?" You rolled your eyes with a smile, "Peter, if I slipped you a love potion you'd be doing a lot more than just holding my hand right now." You smirked as he blushed a bit, a smile gracing his face as he shrugged. "Guess I just love you then," Your eyes softened at his words. He leaned over, placing a couple of kisses to your lips causing you to smile. "Thanks for the food, this date was amazing." He kissed you again and you hummed.

"Best one yet?"

"Best one yet."

----!----

( Hope I wrote this right! I kinda hate it idkkkk )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

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Masterlist

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Most Tragic of Mistakes

|Charlie Barber x Fem!Reader Short Story|

Chapter One

Masterlist of Series

Summary: You're a fresh-faced makeup artist trying to make it in the Big Apple. Finally, you get a job as a makeup artist for Exit Ghost's new production of Caligula and meet the infamously intense director, Charlie Barber.

Author's Note: Hey y'all! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this short story. I uploaded this quite some time ago on AO3 and Wattpad, but not on here. Why? I'm unsure. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Smut, age gap, slight innocence kink, adultery, unprotected sex, dom Charlie, the other woman-type trope, power imbalances, workplace relationships, choking, hair pulling.

You set down the glass of red wine on your coffee table, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram with your feet propped up, and release a long sigh. An anxious feeling permeated your stomach for the day you have ahead.

The sun has long since set and covered the outdoors with its shadow, the only light shining in the corner of your living room with a soft yellow hue. 

Your first big makeup gig starts in only a few hours. It would help if you slept, but you can't. The anxiety is too much to relax your heart. 

When you applied for the makeup artist position in the art department for a new play production, you didn't think you would get it. There was still the microscopic hope you would when you clicked 'apply' on the website, but this was New York. There was no way in Hell that an unknown "just-graduated artist" could book a gig like this. So young, so fresh out of cosmetology school that you hadn't even been able to work at a spa or salon, no real-world training. Nevertheless, the risk-taking director, Charlie Barber, decided you were the perfect fit. 

When you got the call back from the hiring manager, you were stunned. No words could leave your mouth when she told you when the start date was. You could barely even reply a yes when she asked if you were still interested, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You suppose you were one. A small fish yanked from the comfort of its calm water, Charlie Barber, the person who reeled you up, taking a chance on some nobody girl. 

You reach your hand over, feeling the cold stem of the wine glass and twirling it between your index finger and thumb. 

You had known who Charlie was before applying to this job, being familiar with the theatrical troupe of Exit Ghost but needing more interest to look at any of their past performances. You regret that now. What if any actors or coworkers tried asking you about your knowledge of their past plays? Quizzing your dedication to Charlie Barbers' work, asking for your thoughts and opinions on his directing. You couldn't brush those questions off; your ignorance and naivety would shine even more than your artistry. 

You quickly tap the magnifying glass on your phone screen, searching for Exit Ghost. Surely, they would have social media. Everyone and every company had one to keep up with the growing advancement of technology and popularity to ensure they stayed in the loop.

It looks good if you follow your employer. 

Finding their page, scroll down, making sure to follow them. You continue looking through their page, taking notes of all the plays they've mentioned. Opening nights here and there, celebratory dinners after successful shows, and some intimate pictures of the acting process occasionally. Then, you reach a post with the caption, "A look at the director: Charlie Barber mean mugging, no mess ups accepted!" 

A small smile grows as you examine the picture. His intense brown eyes bore ahead at what you assume is the stage, his raven hair whispered back, framing fluffily around his freckled face, his nose prominently showing in the stage light. Sleeves from a blue button-up shirt rolled past his forearms, exposing the broad muscle, black hair lightly covering it. Charlie's giant fist covers his mouth as a sliver watch adorns his wide wrist, resting an elbow on a crossed thigh.

He's beautiful and regal, even if he's the inspiration for every Roman statue in history—a longing forms in your chest. You wish you could reach through the phone and touch him. Trace your thumb across his nose and cheekbones, feeling the chiseled structure. Run your fingers through his hair and feel the tickling between them as you kiss his lips, exploring every hidden inch of Charlie Barber's mouth. 

Your thumb twitches at the thought, a white heart popping up on the screen.

You freak, a panicked cry releasing as you realize you liked a picture from three years ago. Three fucking years ago! You quickly unlike it, but the damage is done; they'll still be notified when they open the app. They'll see that the only picture your profile liked was the one of Charlie.

"This is so fucking embarrassing." You groan, cheeks on fire.

Hopefully, enough people will like their page, and your notification will be buried among them, but that isn't certain. The average amount of traffic they get in a single post is around a hundred or so, and more is needed to disguise your own digits' betrayal. 

You put your phone face down, unable to stomach the antagonizing look of the pixels, and down the rest of your wine. That's enough electronics for today as you decide to go to bed. 

Your phone buzzes you awake, the vibrations sending a small shock through your bones. Turning over in bed, you stretch, your muscles and joints groaning at the sudden movement. You sit up, slouching inwards as you stare lazily at the blank wall in front of you, trying to keep yourself alert after only being asleep for a few hours. The chill air hits your skin, causing goosebumps from the lack of blankets as you smack your lips together, mouth dry. You grab your phone, checking the time. 

4:05 am

Why would anyone make rehearsal start so early? 

You woke up extra early, unsure of the commute from the station to Exit Ghost's theater. Not to mention the time it would take to set up your station. 

Finally, you crawl out of bed, eyes still hazy with sleep as you ready yourself for the long day ahead. 

You arrive at the theater building, rolling a makeup case in tow. It was sketchy lugging that thing around the sidewalks and subway. You kept it near, wrapping your legs around it and studying anyone who dared to look your way. 

If someone even attempted to touch your most prized position, you would lay your life down for all those cosmetics, not batting an eyelash. But thankfully, no one dared to try.

Pushing down the retractable handle, you grab the one on the side of the black case, hoisting it up and leaning as you ascend the concrete stairs. Your biceps curl and flex underneath the weight of it. The end of it tips backward. The force is too strong to be gravity. Your grip falters, nearly dropping your most prized possession on the dirty cement. You turn your body, swinging the luggage in the opposite direction as you curl your fist, ready to sock the person who dared to touch your makeup bag. 

Charlie Barber stands there, his arms up in surrender, a leather bag strapped across his body as he chokes on a laugh. 

"Woah, hey there now, put that sucker away." His eyes match his light-hearted tone with a hint of humor. 

You quickly lower your fist, almost hiding it behind your back as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, your face scorching with embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Barber. I didn't mean to do that." You release an awkward laugh. "I didn't know it was you." 

He chuckles, finding this situation a whole lot more entertaining than you

"It's all good, Miss..." He pauses, unsure of your name.

A pang of sadness hits you, completely involuntary. It's not like you should expect him to know it. After all, you've never met him, only having talked to the hiring manager, but it still hurts. Surely he should know his new hires? You push it down, filling in the gap with your first and last name. 

"Ah, yes," he says, acting as if he knew it in the first place, repeating it back to you. "That seems like a mean left hook there! I'm glad I didn't have to taste it. I feel bad for the next guy, though." 

You smile back, lips tight as you nod, refusing to speak, unsure what to respond with. Your mind is not nearly as witty as his. A small silence enters the air, soon interrupted by Charlie clearing his throat.

"Uh... Would you like help with that?" He asks politely as you shake your head. You're still uncomfortable giving your respective baby to a stranger, even if he was technically your boss.

"No, thank you. I got it. It's honestly not that heavy," you lie. 

Charlie nods, humming slightly with approval as he steps aside, walking the few places to the door. You close your eyes as he passes, releasing a sigh of almost pleasure at the noise, knees going weak. 

He unlocks the door, letting you enter first with the swoop of his hand, and you nod thanks. 

A marble stairwell is all you're greeted with, silver and black plaques designating which floor you can go to. You stand there, wondering where the dressing room will be. No one ever told you the layout. If it weren't for Charlie, you wouldn't have entered the building. 

The door closes automatically behind him as he shrugs his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. You look at him, a deer caught in headlights, unsure of where to go, pleading for help.

"Which way to the dressing rooms, sir?" Your voice sounds small, barely bouncing off the hard stone. Charlie steps closer, nearly ending the small gap of space you have in the tiny area. His plush lips smile down at you, almost caring, wanting to guide and take care of you. He licks them.

"Let me show you," he says plainly. His rumbling voice sends shivers down your spine as you turn around, ready for him to lead. You're sure even if he led you to a different place, you would still follow, clinging to each step in the movement. "The dressing rooms are on the first floor with the stage."

Charlie rests a small hand on your lower back. It stays there as you descend, both of your shoes lightly tapping the hard floor. You stiffen at the touch but don't move, letting him guide you.

He shows you the dressing rooms, a mirror with light bulbs surrounding it that spans the entire room length, and wooden chairs with fabric backs resting in front of a long table. It's so secluded from everything, the cream walls trapping every sound.

You glance at the mirror, Charlie stares at your reflection, and you meet him, both expressionless. What is this? Why does your gut stir when you see him? Why does your mind lose control of your body when he talks?

He's just so handsome. 

You would do anything for him. You would run your fingers through his hair for hours as he pulled you close. Brush your noses against each other as you kiss him, his plush lips overlapping yours. You would rip off your clothes and display your most intimate parts just for him. If only he would ask.

He removes his hand from behind you, lifting itself towards your neck. Your legs clench with anticipation, feeling your core damp and getting through your pants. And that's when you see it. A glint of gold sparkled in the mirror lights- a wedding band. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God. 

He's married! Of course, Charlie is fucking married!

You shuffle away from him, turning your head to look at the ring.

"You're married?" You question with shock, your composure leaving you momentarily at the revaluation. "How long?" You force a polite smile on your face, trying to cover up the hurt from your past words.

He quickly drops his hand, his other fingers twisting the band nervously like he was checking if it was still there. 

"I'm not sure exactly. Ten years or so? It's been so long." Charlie's words sound wistful, cold even, at the mention of his marriage. You brush off the feeling of his voice, trying to hide the hurt brewing inside. 

"That's so sweet." You add a smile to your face. "Finding a partner you could get lost over the years with. So many people would kill for that."

Oh my God. You want to fuck a married man. You're officially a homewrecker. 

"Yeah. I guess you could see it that way." 

Anger pools behind his eyes. You want to reach out and touch Charlie, comfort him, trace the freckles and moles on his face, and ask what's making him hurt so much, but you don't. You can't. He's not yours, and he never will be. 

He clears his throat, cutting through the thickness that has built. 

"Let me show you the stage." Charlie glances at the silver watch on his wrist, the same arm his wedding ring rests on. "The others should be filing in soon." 

He shows you the rest of what you need to know. The quickest way to get from the dressing room to the stage is by introducing yourself to the people who come in. 

Eventually, you excuse yourself, saying how you needed to set up and get comfortable with your station. Which you needed to do; it wasn't entirely an excuse to get away from Charlie. 

Others have already settled in the dressing room. White fabric costumes that resemble togas hang on silver racks, making the ample space incredibly small. When someone taps you on your shoulder, you set your case down, unzip it, and pull out all the makeup you packed within. 

"Hi," a middle-aged woman with brown hair greets. Her skin hangs slightly with her years, crow's feet showing as she smiles. "I'm Mary Ann. I'm the Stage Manager here at Exit Ghost." She extends her hand, and you grip it lightly, startled by the sudden and loudness of her words. 

You say your name politely, exchanging formalities, telling her your title. 

"Oh, so you're the newbie!" She looks you up and down, examining your body, hair, clothes, and everything about you. Sizing you up almost. "You're a bit young, don't you think?" 

You gawk at the audacity, too stunned to speak. She's not wrong, but there's no need to point it out. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to make any sound as Charlie enters, ducking through the doorway.

"Now, Mary Ann, you be nice to her. It's her first day." The man from before, cold and aloof at the idea of his marriage, is gone, replaced with a stern yet kind man, a director. 

She backs away from you, finding a place by his side, her arm sneaking a slight touch on his side. You examine how her body gravitates to him, her eyes lighting up with an emotion only lovers share. You see it. No one seems to notice or care about it, but you do.

You tilt your head and squint at her slim fingers, trying to find a diamond, but you don't. Your pupils travel across their bodies as they converse, lost in the conversation of what the lighting should look like in this scene, how this one actor was off, and such. 

Charlie glances at you, stuttering as he sees the realization dawn on you. He knows that you know. Out of everyone here, the newbie spots it and sees his affair. 

He pushes Mary Ann away harsher than he should, not believing that he let himself slip in front of all these people. In front of you. The newbie he had to hold back from caressing their neck just moments ago, from griping her jaw and fucking her right there while they were alone. 

You stare at him, unrelenting, as Mary Ann tries acting like he didn't just tell her with his body to leave. 

Maybe Charlie made a mistake saying yes to the young cosmetology graduate, letting her into his production and thus his life. How could she, out of everyone here and out of everyone who interacted with him and spoke with him every day, see it? It was she who saw Charlie for what he was. An unfaithful man, a husband who broke his vows to the woman he swore death would be the only thing to separate them. 

You break the stand-off, continuing to unload your supplies. Charlie excuses himself from Mary Ann-- from this whole situation. The sudden urge to light a cigarette and leave the theater for the rest of the day, to run away from them all, is strong, but he snuffs it out. Putting on the hard face of the director, everyone knew. The one that everyone needed for this production to go well. 

Actors periodically returned to the dressing room, testing different makeup styles and techniques in the lighting, getting fit, and seeing what worked well and needed to be changed. 

Charlie never returned. Mary Anne relayed all messages to him. 

Finally, the black and white clock ticks to three, signaling your freedom from the almost den of a dressing room. You pack up, clicking every palette closed and sheathing every brush in its protector. 

"Hey," the art director, Heather, says, a white toga with a golden belt in her hands. "Do you think you could hang this up for me since you're still in? It goes on hanger seven." 

She throws you the garment, not waiting for an answer. You catch it before it falls on the dusty floor. 

"Thanks," she calls back. And with a wave of her hand, she's gone. Everyone's gone, you realize, every chair empty, leaving only you... alone. 

You look at the gown again, straightening it with a flick of your wrists. You turn your head, seeing something dark on the fabric that shouldn't be there. Eyeshadow. All color from your face drains, and you feel like you'll puke.

"Shit," you whisper. "Shit, shit, shit." 

Slamming the costume on the table, you search desperately for a makeup wipe, rubbing the black shadow. It only makes it worse, smearing the pigment upwards. 

"Oh God, what am I going to do?" Your breath quickens, panic setting in as you continue to scrub viciously. 

You don't even notice when Charlie calls your name, too concentrated on the end of your career muttering expletives. His significant digits wrap around your tricep, and you jump, trying to cover the mess.

"What are you still doing here," he questions with a raised brow, looking you up and down. A smile cracks on your face as you hide the costume from his view. 

"Oh, you know, just," you lift your hands, gesturing, "cleaning up... and... stuff." Your eyes snap to the side with each pause. 

"Uh huh," Charlie responds in an unbelieving tone and puts a palm on his hip, his hair shining in the artificial light.

Why does he have to be so hot? 

You blush, crossing your ankle over the other, subconsciously creating friction. 

"What's that there behind you?" 

You chuckle nervously. 

"Oh, uh, this?" Gesturing to the ruined toga behind you. "Nothing. Just a costume that needs put away." 

"Okay..." He draws the word out on his pink tongue, still a hint of curiosity behind his iris. 

"Is that all you needed, Mr. Barber?" Hopefully, this will urge him to be on his way, and you'll find a way to fix this. 

"Yeah..." Charlie says, once again drawing the word out. 

Suddenly, his fingers snatch the robe, whipping it back too fast for you to grab it. He examines the dark, damp spot on the fabric. You flip your body around, signaling you're done with the conversation, and he can finally leave. 

"Did you do this?" He questions, tone flat, devoid of any hints of his emotions. 

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Heather just threw it at me, and-and I had makeup on my hands..." You ramble, tears nearly springing from your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barber." You look away, shame forcing you. 

"Don't call me that." Your eyes snap up, ready to apologize again as he throws the toga on the floor and steps closer. "Do you see what it does to me?" 

Tilting your head, you study him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion when nothing seems different. Charlie moves again, and you slide back, spine hitting the table. He gestures to his waist, a prominent bulge protruding from his khaki pants. You cough awkwardly, too stunned to speak.

"Look at me," he commands, "look at what you do to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right here?" 

A bolt travels through you, straight to your core, as you squeeze your thighs together. He puts his hands on the table, caging you in. You cower away from the intensity, his hot breath rolling down your cheek. 

"You're so beautiful, and you don't even know it. You stand there, looking all innocent with those doe eyes begging me to fuck you." You shudder, Charlie's words so erotic and explicit in your ears. "I bet that's what you want right now, isn't it? For me to rip off all your clothes and pump your cunt full of my cum?" 

There's nothing more in this world you would want. You felt that life would be complete if he just claimed you. A moan escapes from your chest, unable to longer contain your desire for Charlie.

His knuckle brushes down your face, fingers wrapping around your throat, threatening you into submission. 

"Say it." He commands, pausing and waiting for your answer. He tightens his grip when you don't respond, your knees weakening from the growing desire. "Say it," Charlie repeats, the words gritting his teeth. 

"Yes," you exhale in a soft breath. 

Charlie leaves no room for second guesses as he slams his mouth into you, the soft flesh squeezing between the gaps of your teeth. Your fingers slither into his hair. It feels exactly as you imagined, silky and clean, with hints of product to smooth it back as you groan, opening your lips further.

If someone came in and shot you, you would die with a smile, your life finally complete with this one moment. It's as if everything in the past has led you to this moment. Forged you and carved you out for this very thing. 

A giggle vibrates through your connected mouths, your chest bouncing as Charlie pulls back with a questioning look. You shake your head almost in disbelief. 

"I was made for you, Charlie Barber." He smirks as he goes to cup your breast, testing it in his hand, seeing if your statement is true. Your back arches into his touch, asking without words for him to use it however he sees fit. 

Finally, he removes your shirt, diving into trailing kisses down your neck, sucking too harshly as you whine. He bucks his hips into your still-covered cunt, grinding, seeking friction to ease the ache in his cock. 

That's all he can think of as if it has a brain, neurons firing into his muscles and controlling his movements.

Charlie's digits unclasp each hook of your bra, exposing your tits to the chill air, your nipples perking into peaks. He latches onto one, licking and teasing you until you writhe under him, desperate mewls whispering. 

Your legs buckle as teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, but Charlie stops you from falling, palms resting behind your thighs as he lifts you on the table. He pulls back from your tits, examining your state. 

Cheeks flushed with blood, skin prickled with goosebumps, sweat dampening your sternum as your heart hammers in your chest. If Charlie didn't know better, he would think he's already fucked you, but seeing as your pants are still on, he digresses. 

"Look at you. Already coming undone for me, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whimper, pouting with embarrassment at your lack of self-awareness. "Awe, sweet thing." He says, grasping your chin with his thumb and index pads, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Don't worry. I'll fix that for you." 

He unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs as he kneels between them, nose pressing against the clothed mound. You move your hips slightly, trying to seek pressure covertly, but he notices and smirks, nuzzling closer. Charlie mouths at your wet panties, and you gasp, the foreign sensation building. 

He continues to teethe lazily, not giving you nearly enough of him. You gently grab his obsidian hair, forcing him to meet your gaze, but not enough to completely pull away. Your eyes wide and pleading, begging for him to give you what you desire, ready to bargain anything for it. He gets the message, hooking his middle finger on the hemline and pulling it to the side, your wet and waiting pussy appearing. 

He trails a digit down the middle of your slit; you gasp, happy with finally getting some semblance of what you want. Charlie purses his lips, a glob of fat spit splattering on your entrance. He pushes it in, finger-twisting and curling to ensure it stays there. Your hips buck and thighs clench as he hits that sweet spot inside you. 

"Please, Charlie, I need more."

If your pussy could talk, it would be weeping, crying at the lack of attention it's getting, as Charlie teases. 

"What a greedy little thing," he comments. "Who knew you were such a slut?" 

You moan at his words, swelling from them as he gives in. He slides another finger, stretching your hole too broad for an average man as he moves it back and forth with a slow "come here" motion. 

"You sure you can take me, sweetheart? You feel so tight."

"Yes! Your fingers are just huge," you grit out. 

Charlie chuckles as he picks up his pace, pulling the tidal wave of your pleasure out to sea. He leans back into you, his lips circling your clit as he sucks, tongue licking. 

You stroke his scalp, smoothing the waves back. He hums into your cunt, the vibrations sending you shivers. A sudden pang enters his chest, nearly stopping him for a beat before continuing. 

The feeling is longing within his ribcage, old emotions Charlie thought he would never feel again with a woman, though unbeknownst to him, he sought-- a woman to fulfill his carnal desires that his wife no longer wanted. He thought he could find it with Mary Ann, but with her, it was just empty nothing.

But with you... With you, it was different. 

The feeling of you softly gliding your nails along with his head as he devoured your cunt wasn't one of a woman who was just lost in ecstasy, greedy for her climax, but one who seemed to care. One who seemed to enjoy the thought of him wanting to take the time to put her first, to ensure she enjoyed herself without any expectation of reciprocation. 

It hurt him almost to realize that what he was looking for, begging for, was someone happy with just the thought of him, grateful for his kindness and thoughts.

Perhaps it was selfish of him to want anyone else other than Nicole to give him that, but at the same time, was it too much to ask? Did he not deserve to be happy again? Not to be bogged down by a person who only saw the faults in him and nothing else. He was sure you would be his death in so many ways.

Charlie wraps his arms around your legs, smashing his nose into your pubic bone as you begin the crescendo of your orgasm.

Yes, he did deserve it, deserved the serotonin it gave to be with someone who saw him for what he was in his entirety-- deserved you. Your screams and cries of heaven are lost on Charlie's ears. The only thing he could hear was his thoughts. 

I do deserve her. She's mine. Mine.

And he had to have you. Again and again and again. You couldn't walk until his milky white seed dripped down your pussy and thighs.

Charlie grips your hips, fingers digging in painfully as you cry out, spinning your body around and flipping you on your stomach. He rips your panties down your legs, the dry cotton burning your skin. He grabs his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops, his shirt untucking as he unbuttons his pants. They slide down, getting stuck on his knees as you see his tight grey underwear, his impossibly hard cock straining underneath the fabric, a small dark dot on the top from pre-cum. You look into the mirror, seeing the reflection of Charlie behind you, his cheeks tinted pink and hair wild even after smoothing it. He's so crazy, completely unhinged behind you, your pussy tightening around nothing as you wait.

Charlie's thumbs hook onto the lips of your hole, prying you open for him, his fingers splayed over your ass. 

"You sure you're ready for me," he teases. 

You nod frantically, trying desperately to get what you want as he smirks, removing his hands to take off his underwear. His cock springs free, veins protruding on his long shaft, the pink head glistening with seed. Your mouth falls open. Charlie is enormous, more significant than anything you've ever seen. He's equally as wide as he is long. Unsureness washes across your face.

Maybe you can't take it? You could barely take his fingers; how could you even handle his manhood? Charlie notices your hesitancy as he steps closer, bending as he peppers comforting kisses down your spine. 

"You can do it, sweetness." He affirms, his hot breath dancing on your skin. "I know you can." 

If it were possible to turn into a liquid, you would do so now. Charlie's words were so sincere and kind that you could melt into the cracks of the tile floor. You nod, agreeing with him as he spares you one last lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud. 

The head of his cock pokes at your entrance, daring to go farther, just testing the waters. You gasp, feeling Charlie's skin on yours enough to send you into a frenzy as you buck your hips back. He pulls away, sliding his shaft along your wetness, readying himself for you, tiny shocks of pleasure traveling through your nerves as he rubs your clit. You whine, clenching around nothing, finally having enough. 

"Charlie," you mewl, "please, I can't wait anymore." 

His heart swells at your voice, happiness overcoming his entire being at the thought of someone needing him. After all, he is a caring man. He can't deny you any longer, not when you need him.

Charlie pushes the tip into you as you gasp, gritting your teeth, a slight sting emerging from your core. He shushes you with his lips, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks as he goes in a little further. 

"Look at that," he comments. His cock disappears into you.

Your head lowers as your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escaping you as he bottoms out, stretching you so tightly around him. 

"You take me so well." 

Your body twitches at that, cinching around him momentarily, causing him to groan. The sound is heavenly, putting a smile on your face. You could listen to that noise forever, putting it on a loop and never getting tired of it. You do it again, trying to coax it out of him. Charlie grunts with a small ah, his hand smacking your skin in punishment as he slides out, leaving only a sliver of him, your lips encompassing his cock.

Charlie begins thrusting, his hips coming into contact with your thighs as you feel the tiny tickles of his hair. He doesn't go slow this time, his carnal desires taking over as he slams back into you, his head brushing against your cervix. You cry out, the pain of him stretching you mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing your sensitive spot.

You flatten yourself on the table as he pistons into you, his pace unrelenting as you continue to pant. Your hands scratch the plastic-coated wood, trying to find something to ground you at this moment as his strength pushes you against the mirror. Your cheek squishes as the oils smudge it. Your eyes look feral. Your pupils dilate with lust as you search for his. Charlie's lips are pursed, gaze downcast as he concentrates on your cunt, your pussy swallowing his cock. 

You could stay like this for hours, looking like a mindless little fuck toy for him, doing anything and everything he could ask for and thanking him in the end.

He catches you staring in the mirror, looking entranced. He grabs your hair, his digits tangling in the locks as he pulls your head back, fucking impossibly deeper than before. Your chest rises and falls in a quick breath as he keeps drilling, a pressure in your gut growing. 

"You are doing so well," he smirks. You return a small, lazy smile, happy to be pleasing him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Barber," you say breathlessly, your voice hiccuping. "You feel so good." 

Charlie sighs, your words putting him in a daze as his mind wanders. 

It's been so long since he felt this way... truly appreciated even this most simplistic of actions. It has been years since Nicole had sex with him, months since she had let him kiss her, even hug her. Their bond was severed and destroyed long ago, their spark lost. He tried to find it in Mary Ann. Charlie was so desperate for a connection, for anything, when he confided in her about his marital troubles that he had no idea she took it as him wanting her. 

He did not stop the affair from advancing; it was a good distraction for the most part. He could channel the affections and longing he wanted from Nicole through her, and it worked... kind of. 

But then you came. 

Walking up the stairs of his theater building, he was severely overdressed with an air of innocence he wanted to possess again. So new and fresh-faced to the world, Charlie realized he had to have you, be with you, guide you, and teach you about what this life has to offer.

And here he was, balls deep inside you as you panted his name, praising him for making you feel so good. It was almost naive of you to do, so childish that you thought it was a luxury to feel this good when Charlie could do it all the time. He wanted to teach you about life, and wasn't this a part of it? 

Your velvet walls tightening around Charlie rips him from his thoughts. He could tell you were close, inching your way over to ecstasy. 

He snakes his hand around you, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with your clit, your body twitching. 

"Oh, God, Charlie, I'm so close." You pant, eyes shutting as another intense wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Look at me," he demands. You don't obey, too lost in the building pressure. He slaps your clit in admonishment as your leg hikes up at the intense sensation. "Let me see those eyes." 

They almost flutter shut again at his command. It sounds like pure sex on your ears. 

"Good girl," he praises, "I wanna see your face when you cum."

Those words nearly push you over the edge, but you hold back, not wanting this moment with Charlie to end. 

"I bet I'm the first man ever to make you feel this good. The first one to have you cum from my cock alone." 

The squelching of your wet folds as he thrusts is almost embarrassing, your face heating up even more. 

"Listen to yourself. You're sopping wet, and it's all for me, only for me." Charlie's hand tightens your scalp. "You're going to fucking cum on my cock, and then, I'm going to stuff you full of my seed. Until it's dripping down your thighs and on the floor." 

You shudder, his words almost pulling you out of your body as the pressure in your stomach bursts. You orgasm deep inside, racking through every bone in your body as he pulls you through it. Fucking you until you're a blubbering mess under him, twitching and clamping. 

He lets go of your hair, and you collapse back down on the table, air shuddering out of your lungs. Charlie keeps fucking you a little slower now. You're like a rag doll under him, stilling and moaning softly when you realize he hasn't come yet. He put your pleasure before his own; tears nearly spring at the thought. You need to make him cum. He deserves it more than anything else in the world. 

You extend your back, pushing your ass into him as he grunts. He must be so close. You don't want him to hold back any longer. You want him to fuck you and use your body for his own. 

"Charlie." His gaze snaps up to yours in the mirror, his lips swollen and eyes glossy. "Please, cum. I need to feel you cum inside of me." You plead. "Please, Mr. Barber," you hiccup as his hips snap harshly into you. "You deserve it." 

His mouth twitches, his jaw clenching as he slams into you a few more times, chasing his high. His warm seed fills inside your walls as his pelvis stalls and groans, tucking his chin to his chest. He pauses, catching his breath as he finally pulls out. You squeak as his tip glides over your sensitive spot, sending a bolt of overstimulated pleasure. You hear Charlie chuckle as he shuffles around and gathers your clothes and belt. You stay there, not trusting your knees enough to get up; you're too happy to move.

Charlie gently grabs your ankles, telling you to pull them up so he can slide your pants back on. They reach the crease of your ass before he stops, his thumb gliding over your swollen and abused mound, collecting the cum dripping and pushing it back in. You gasp, still sensitive. He runs soft fabric over the area, cleaning you up to the best of his ability as he pulls your pants up the rest of the way. Your turn around still bent over the table.

"Charlie, where is my underwear?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already having somewhat of an idea of where they could be.

He grins, showing you the cum stained panties as he stuffs them into his breast pocket. You roll your eyes as you extend your arm for the rest of your clothes, regaining enough strength to move. Finally, fully covered, you glance at the costume you ruined draped over his arm as you frown.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barber. I can take it to a dry cleaner to see if they can fix it. I'll pay for everything." You still can't believe you ruined a costume on your first day. You won't believe you did many things on your first day. He waves away from your offer with a shake of his head.

"No, it's fine," he says your name tenderly. "I'll take care of it." You nod, agreeing with your lips pursed, still feeling guilty as you gather your things to leave, walking to the exit as Mr. Barber shouts for you. "Also, please don't call me that, Mr. Barber." You nod again wordlessly. "Everyone just calls me Charlie around here."

"Okay, Charlie." It feels foreign when you're saying it without his cock inside you. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say with sleep lacing your voice. "You and Mary Ann have a great rest of your day." 

Your words would sound innocent to the middle ear, just a coworker wishing her bosses a good day, but you know better, and so does Charlie. He also knows that he and Mary Ann will, in fact, not have a great day with what he plans on doing now. You've changed everything for him, unbeknownst to you, as the wheels of your makeup bag click on the floor. Whether or not it is for the best remains to be seen.

You set down the glass of red wine on your coffee table, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram with your feet propped up, and release a long sigh. An anxious feeling permeated your stomach for the day you have ahead.

The sun has long since set and covered the outdoors with its shadow, the only light shining in the corner of your living room with a soft yellow hue. 

Your first big makeup gig starts in only a few hours. It would help if you slept, but you can't. The anxiety is too much to relax your heart. 

When you applied for the makeup artist position in the art department for a new play production, you didn't think you would get it. There was still the microscopic hope you would when you clicked 'apply' on the website, but this was New York. There was no way in Hell that an unknown "just-graduated artist" could book a gig like this. So young, so fresh out of cosmetology school that you hadn't even been able to work at a spa or salon, no real-world training. Nevertheless, the risk-taking director, Charlie Barber, decided you were the perfect fit. 

When you got the call back from the hiring manager, you were stunned. No words could leave your mouth when she told you when the start date was. You could barely even reply a yes when she asked if you were still interested, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You suppose you were one. A small fish yanked from the comfort of its calm water, Charlie Barber, the person who reeled you up, taking a chance on some nobody girl. 

You reach your hand over, feeling the cold stem of the wine glass and twirling it between your index finger and thumb. 

You had known who Charlie was before applying to this job, being familiar with the theatrical troupe of Exit Ghost but needing more interest to look at any of their past performances. You regret that now. What if any actors or coworkers tried asking you about your knowledge of their past plays? Quizzing your dedication to Charlie Barbers' work, asking for your thoughts and opinions on his directing. You couldn't brush those questions off; your ignorance and naivety would shine even more than your artistry. 

You quickly tap the magnifying glass on your phone screen, searching for Exit Ghost. Surely, they would have social media. Everyone and every company had one to keep up with the growing advancement of technology and popularity to ensure they stayed in the loop.

It looks good if you follow your employer. 

Finding their page, scroll down, making sure to follow them. You continue looking through their page, taking notes of all the plays they've mentioned. Opening nights here and there, celebratory dinners after successful shows, and some intimate pictures of the acting process occasionally. Then, you reach a post with the caption, "A look at the director: Charlie Barber mean mugging, no mess ups accepted!" 

A small smile grows as you examine the picture. His intense brown eyes bore ahead at what you assume is the stage, his raven hair whispered back, framing fluffily around his freckled face, his nose prominently showing in the stage light. Sleeves from a blue button-up shirt rolled past his forearms, exposing the broad muscle, black hair lightly covering it. Charlie's giant fist covers his mouth as a sliver watch adorns his wide wrist, resting an elbow on a crossed thigh.

He's beautiful and regal, even if he's the inspiration for every Roman statue in history—a longing forms in your chest. You wish you could reach through the phone and touch him. Trace your thumb across his nose and cheekbones, feeling the chiseled structure. Run your fingers through his hair and feel the tickling between them as you kiss his lips, exploring every hidden inch of Charlie Barber's mouth. 

Your thumb twitches at the thought, a white heart popping up on the screen.

You freak, a panicked cry releasing as you realize you liked a picture from three years ago. Three fucking years ago! You quickly unlike it, but the damage is done; they'll still be notified when they open the app. They'll see that the only picture your profile liked was the one of Charlie.

"This is so fucking embarrassing." You groan, cheeks on fire.

Hopefully, enough people will like their page, and your notification will be buried among them, but that isn't certain. The average amount of traffic they get in a single post is around a hundred or so, and more is needed to disguise your own digits' betrayal. 

You put your phone face down, unable to stomach the antagonizing look of the pixels, and down the rest of your wine. That's enough electronics for today as you decide to go to bed. 

Your phone buzzes you awake, the vibrations sending a small shock through your bones. Turning over in bed, you stretch, your muscles and joints groaning at the sudden movement. You sit up, slouching inwards as you stare lazily at the blank wall in front of you, trying to keep yourself alert after only being asleep for a few hours. The chill air hits your skin, causing goosebumps from the lack of blankets as you smack your lips together, mouth dry. You grab your phone, checking the time. 

4:05 am

Why would anyone make rehearsal start so early? 

You woke up extra early, unsure of the commute from the station to Exit Ghost's theater. Not to mention the time it would take to set up your station. 

Finally, you crawl out of bed, eyes still hazy with sleep as you ready yourself for the long day ahead. 

You arrive at the theater building, rolling a makeup case in tow. It was sketchy lugging that thing around the sidewalks and subway. You kept it near, wrapping your legs around it and studying anyone who dared to look your way. 

If someone even attempted to touch your most prized position, you would lay your life down for all those cosmetics, not batting an eyelash. But thankfully, no one dared to try.

Pushing down the retractable handle, you grab the one on the side of the black case, hoisting it up and leaning as you ascend the concrete stairs. Your biceps curl and flex underneath the weight of it. The end of it tips backward. The force is too strong to be gravity. Your grip falters, nearly dropping your most prized possession on the dirty cement. You turn your body, swinging the luggage in the opposite direction as you curl your fist, ready to sock the person who dared to touch your makeup bag. 

Charlie Barber stands there, his arms up in surrender, a leather bag strapped across his body as he chokes on a laugh. 

"Woah, hey there now, put that sucker away." His eyes match his light-hearted tone with a hint of humor. 

You quickly lower your fist, almost hiding it behind your back as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, your face scorching with embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Barber. I didn't mean to do that." You release an awkward laugh. "I didn't know it was you." 

He chuckles, finding this situation a whole lot more entertaining than you

"It's all good, Miss..." He pauses, unsure of your name.

A pang of sadness hits you, completely involuntary. It's not like you should expect him to know it. After all, you've never met him, only having talked to the hiring manager, but it still hurts. Surely he should know his new hires? You push it down, filling in the gap with your first and last name. 

"Ah, yes," he says, acting as if he knew it in the first place, repeating it back to you. "That seems like a mean left hook there! I'm glad I didn't have to taste it. I feel bad for the next guy, though." 

You smile back, lips tight as you nod, refusing to speak, unsure what to respond with. Your mind is not nearly as witty as his. A small silence enters the air, soon interrupted by Charlie clearing his throat.

"Uh... Would you like help with that?" He asks politely as you shake your head. You're still uncomfortable giving your respective baby to a stranger, even if he was technically your boss.

"No, thank you. I got it. It's honestly not that heavy," you lie. 

Charlie nods, humming slightly with approval as he steps aside, walking the few places to the door. You close your eyes as he passes, releasing a sigh of almost pleasure at the noise, knees going weak. 

He unlocks the door, letting you enter first with the swoop of his hand, and you nod thanks. 

A marble stairwell is all you're greeted with, silver and black plaques designating which floor you can go to. You stand there, wondering where the dressing room will be. No one ever told you the layout. If it weren't for Charlie, you wouldn't have entered the building. 

The door closes automatically behind him as he shrugs his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. You look at him, a deer caught in headlights, unsure of where to go, pleading for help.

"Which way to the dressing rooms, sir?" Your voice sounds small, barely bouncing off the hard stone. Charlie steps closer, nearly ending the small gap of space you have in the tiny area. His plush lips smile down at you, almost caring, wanting to guide and take care of you. He licks them.

"Let me show you," he says plainly. His rumbling voice sends shivers down your spine as you turn around, ready for him to lead. You're sure even if he led you to a different place, you would still follow, clinging to each step in the movement. "The dressing rooms are on the first floor with the stage."

Charlie rests a small hand on your lower back. It stays there as you descend, both of your shoes lightly tapping the hard floor. You stiffen at the touch but don't move, letting him guide you.

He shows you the dressing rooms, a mirror with light bulbs surrounding it that spans the entire room length, and wooden chairs with fabric backs resting in front of a long table. It's so secluded from everything, the cream walls trapping every sound.

You glance at the mirror, Charlie stares at your reflection, and you meet him, both expressionless. What is this? Why does your gut stir when you see him? Why does your mind lose control of your body when he talks?

He's just so handsome. 

You would do anything for him. You would run your fingers through his hair for hours as he pulled you close. Brush your noses against each other as you kiss him, his plush lips overlapping yours. You would rip off your clothes and display your most intimate parts just for him. If only he would ask.

He removes his hand from behind you, lifting itself towards your neck. Your legs clench with anticipation, feeling your core damp and getting through your pants. And that's when you see it. A glint of gold sparkled in the mirror lights- a wedding band. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God. 

He's married! Of course, Charlie is fucking married!

You shuffle away from him, turning your head to look at the ring.

"You're married?" You question with shock, your composure leaving you momentarily at the revaluation. "How long?" You force a polite smile on your face, trying to cover up the hurt from your past words.

He quickly drops his hand, his other fingers twisting the band nervously like he was checking if it was still there. 

"I'm not sure exactly. Ten years or so? It's been so long." Charlie's words sound wistful, cold even, at the mention of his marriage. You brush off the feeling of his voice, trying to hide the hurt brewing inside. 

"That's so sweet." You add a smile to your face. "Finding a partner you could get lost over the years with. So many people would kill for that."

Oh my God. You want to fuck a married man. You're officially a homewrecker. 

"Yeah. I guess you could see it that way." 

Anger pools behind his eyes. You want to reach out and touch Charlie, comfort him, trace the freckles and moles on his face, and ask what's making him hurt so much, but you don't. You can't. He's not yours, and he never will be. 

He clears his throat, cutting through the thickness that has built. 

"Let me show you the stage." Charlie glances at the silver watch on his wrist, the same arm his wedding ring rests on. "The others should be filing in soon." 

He shows you the rest of what you need to know. The quickest way to get from the dressing room to the stage is by introducing yourself to the people who come in. 

Eventually, you excuse yourself, saying how you needed to set up and get comfortable with your station. Which you needed to do; it wasn't entirely an excuse to get away from Charlie. 

Others have already settled in the dressing room. White fabric costumes that resemble togas hang on silver racks, making the ample space incredibly small. When someone taps you on your shoulder, you set your case down, unzip it, and pull out all the makeup you packed within. 

"Hi," a middle-aged woman with brown hair greets. Her skin hangs slightly with her years, crow's feet showing as she smiles. "I'm Mary Ann. I'm the Stage Manager here at Exit Ghost." She extends her hand, and you grip it lightly, startled by the sudden and loudness of her words. 

You say your name politely, exchanging formalities, telling her your title. 

"Oh, so you're the newbie!" She looks you up and down, examining your body, hair, clothes, and everything about you. Sizing you up almost. "You're a bit young, don't you think?" 

You gawk at the audacity, too stunned to speak. She's not wrong, but there's no need to point it out. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to make any sound as Charlie enters, ducking through the doorway.

"Now, Mary Ann, you be nice to her. It's her first day." The man from before, cold and aloof at the idea of his marriage, is gone, replaced with a stern yet kind man, a director. 

She backs away from you, finding a place by his side, her arm sneaking a slight touch on his side. You examine how her body gravitates to him, her eyes lighting up with an emotion only lovers share. You see it. No one seems to notice or care about it, but you do.

You tilt your head and squint at her slim fingers, trying to find a diamond, but you don't. Your pupils travel across their bodies as they converse, lost in the conversation of what the lighting should look like in this scene, how this one actor was off, and such. 

Charlie glances at you, stuttering as he sees the realization dawn on you. He knows that you know. Out of everyone here, the newbie spots it and sees his affair. 

He pushes Mary Ann away harsher than he should, not believing that he let himself slip in front of all these people. In front of you. The newbie he had to hold back from caressing their neck just moments ago, from griping her jaw and fucking her right there while they were alone. 

You stare at him, unrelenting, as Mary Ann tries acting like he didn't just tell her with his body to leave. 

Maybe Charlie made a mistake saying yes to the young cosmetology graduate, letting her into his production and thus his life. How could she, out of everyone here and out of everyone who interacted with him and spoke with him every day, see it? It was she who saw Charlie for what he was. An unfaithful man, a husband who broke his vows to the woman he swore death would be the only thing to separate them. 

You break the stand-off, continuing to unload your supplies. Charlie excuses himself from Mary Ann-- from this whole situation. The sudden urge to light a cigarette and leave the theater for the rest of the day, to run away from them all, is strong, but he snuffs it out. Putting on the hard face of the director, everyone knew. The one that everyone needed for this production to go well. 

Actors periodically returned to the dressing room, testing different makeup styles and techniques in the lighting, getting fit, and seeing what worked well and needed to be changed. 

Charlie never returned. Mary Anne relayed all messages to him. 

Finally, the black and white clock ticks to three, signaling your freedom from the almost den of a dressing room. You pack up, clicking every palette closed and sheathing every brush in its protector. 

"Hey," the art director, Heather, says, a white toga with a golden belt in her hands. "Do you think you could hang this up for me since you're still in? It goes on hanger seven." 

She throws you the garment, not waiting for an answer. You catch it before it falls on the dusty floor. 

"Thanks," she calls back. And with a wave of her hand, she's gone. Everyone's gone, you realize, every chair empty, leaving only you... alone. 

You look at the gown again, straightening it with a flick of your wrists. You turn your head, seeing something dark on the fabric that shouldn't be there. Eyeshadow. All color from your face drains, and you feel like you'll puke.

"Shit," you whisper. "Shit, shit, shit." 

Slamming the costume on the table, you search desperately for a makeup wipe, rubbing the black shadow. It only makes it worse, smearing the pigment upwards. 

"Oh God, what am I going to do?" Your breath quickens, panic setting in as you continue to scrub viciously. 

You don't even notice when Charlie calls your name, too concentrated on the end of your career muttering expletives. His significant digits wrap around your tricep, and you jump, trying to cover the mess.

"What are you still doing here," he questions with a raised brow, looking you up and down. A smile cracks on your face as you hide the costume from his view. 

"Oh, you know, just," you lift your hands, gesturing, "cleaning up... and... stuff." Your eyes snap to the side with each pause. 

"Uh huh," Charlie responds in an unbelieving tone and puts a palm on his hip, his hair shining in the artificial light.

Why does he have to be so hot? 

You blush, crossing your ankle over the other, subconsciously creating friction. 

"What's that there behind you?" 

You chuckle nervously. 

"Oh, uh, this?" Gesturing to the ruined toga behind you. "Nothing. Just a costume that needs put away." 

"Okay..." He draws the word out on his pink tongue, still a hint of curiosity behind his iris. 

"Is that all you needed, Mr. Barber?" Hopefully, this will urge him to be on his way, and you'll find a way to fix this. 

"Yeah..." Charlie says, once again drawing the word out. 

Suddenly, his fingers snatch the robe, whipping it back too fast for you to grab it. He examines the dark, damp spot on the fabric. You flip your body around, signaling you're done with the conversation, and he can finally leave. 

"Did you do this?" He questions, tone flat, devoid of any hints of his emotions. 

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Heather just threw it at me, and-and I had makeup on my hands..." You ramble, tears nearly springing from your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barber." You look away, shame forcing you. 

"Don't call me that." Your eyes snap up, ready to apologize again as he throws the toga on the floor and steps closer. "Do you see what it does to me?" 

Tilting your head, you study him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion when nothing seems different. Charlie moves again, and you slide back, spine hitting the table. He gestures to his waist, a prominent bulge protruding from his khaki pants. You cough awkwardly, too stunned to speak.

"Look at me," he commands, "look at what you do to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right here?" 

A bolt travels through you, straight to your core, as you squeeze your thighs together. He puts his hands on the table, caging you in. You cower away from the intensity, his hot breath rolling down your cheek. 

"You're so beautiful, and you don't even know it. You stand there, looking all innocent with those doe eyes begging me to fuck you." You shudder, Charlie's words so erotic and explicit in your ears. "I bet that's what you want right now, isn't it? For me to rip off all your clothes and pump your cunt full of my cum?" 

There's nothing more in this world you would want. You felt that life would be complete if he just claimed you. A moan escapes from your chest, unable to longer contain your desire for Charlie.

His knuckle brushes down your face, fingers wrapping around your throat, threatening you into submission. 

"Say it." He commands, pausing and waiting for your answer. He tightens his grip when you don't respond, your knees weakening from the growing desire. "Say it," Charlie repeats, the words gritting his teeth. 

"Yes," you exhale in a soft breath. 

Charlie leaves no room for second guesses as he slams his mouth into you, the soft flesh squeezing between the gaps of your teeth. Your fingers slither into his hair. It feels exactly as you imagined, silky and clean, with hints of product to smooth it back as you groan, opening your lips further.

If someone came in and shot you, you would die with a smile, your life finally complete with this one moment. It's as if everything in the past has led you to this moment. Forged you and carved you out for this very thing. 

A giggle vibrates through your connected mouths, your chest bouncing as Charlie pulls back with a questioning look. You shake your head almost in disbelief. 

"I was made for you, Charlie Barber." He smirks as he goes to cup your breast, testing it in his hand, seeing if your statement is true. Your back arches into his touch, asking without words for him to use it however he sees fit. 

Finally, he removes your shirt, diving into trailing kisses down your neck, sucking too harshly as you whine. He bucks his hips into your still-covered cunt, grinding, seeking friction to ease the ache in his cock. 

That's all he can think of as if it has a brain, neurons firing into his muscles and controlling his movements.

Charlie's digits unclasp each hook of your bra, exposing your tits to the chill air, your nipples perking into peaks. He latches onto one, licking and teasing you until you writhe under him, desperate mewls whispering. 

Your legs buckle as teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, but Charlie stops you from falling, palms resting behind your thighs as he lifts you on the table. He pulls back from your tits, examining your state. 

Cheeks flushed with blood, skin prickled with goosebumps, sweat dampening your sternum as your heart hammers in your chest. If Charlie didn't know better, he would think he's already fucked you, but seeing as your pants are still on, he digresses. 

"Look at you. Already coming undone for me, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whimper, pouting with embarrassment at your lack of self-awareness. "Awe, sweet thing." He says, grasping your chin with his thumb and index pads, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Don't worry. I'll fix that for you." 

He unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs as he kneels between them, nose pressing against the clothed mound. You move your hips slightly, trying to seek pressure covertly, but he notices and smirks, nuzzling closer. Charlie mouths at your wet panties, and you gasp, the foreign sensation building. 

He continues to teethe lazily, not giving you nearly enough of him. You gently grab his obsidian hair, forcing him to meet your gaze, but not enough to completely pull away. Your eyes wide and pleading, begging for him to give you what you desire, ready to bargain anything for it. He gets the message, hooking his middle finger on the hemline and pulling it to the side, your wet and waiting pussy appearing. 

He trails a digit down the middle of your slit; you gasp, happy with finally getting some semblance of what you want. Charlie purses his lips, a glob of fat spit splattering on your entrance. He pushes it in, finger-twisting and curling to ensure it stays there. Your hips buck and thighs clench as he hits that sweet spot inside you. 

"Please, Charlie, I need more."

If your pussy could talk, it would be weeping, crying at the lack of attention it's getting, as Charlie teases. 

"What a greedy little thing," he comments. "Who knew you were such a slut?" 

You moan at his words, swelling from them as he gives in. He slides another finger, stretching your hole too broad for an average man as he moves it back and forth with a slow "come here" motion. 

"You sure you can take me, sweetheart? You feel so tight."

"Yes! Your fingers are just huge," you grit out. 

Charlie chuckles as he picks up his pace, pulling the tidal wave of your pleasure out to sea. He leans back into you, his lips circling your clit as he sucks, tongue licking. 

You stroke his scalp, smoothing the waves back. He hums into your cunt, the vibrations sending you shivers. A sudden pang enters his chest, nearly stopping him for a beat before continuing. 

The feeling is longing within his ribcage, old emotions Charlie thought he would never feel again with a woman, though unbeknownst to him, he sought-- a woman to fulfill his carnal desires that his wife no longer wanted. He thought he could find it with Mary Ann, but with her, it was just empty nothing.

But with you... With you, it was different. 

The feeling of you softly gliding your nails along with his head as he devoured your cunt wasn't one of a woman who was just lost in ecstasy, greedy for her climax, but one who seemed to care. One who seemed to enjoy the thought of him wanting to take the time to put her first, to ensure she enjoyed herself without any expectation of reciprocation. 

It hurt him almost to realize that what he was looking for, begging for, was someone happy with just the thought of him, grateful for his kindness and thoughts.

Perhaps it was selfish of him to want anyone else other than Nicole to give him that, but at the same time, was it too much to ask? Did he not deserve to be happy again? Not to be bogged down by a person who only saw the faults in him and nothing else. He was sure you would be his death in so many ways.

Charlie wraps his arms around your legs, smashing his nose into your pubic bone as you begin the crescendo of your orgasm.

Yes, he did deserve it, deserved the serotonin it gave to be with someone who saw him for what he was in his entirety-- deserved you. Your screams and cries of heaven are lost on Charlie's ears. The only thing he could hear was his thoughts. 

I do deserve her. She's mine. Mine.

And he had to have you. Again and again and again. You couldn't walk until his milky white seed dripped down your pussy and thighs.

Charlie grips your hips, fingers digging in painfully as you cry out, spinning your body around and flipping you on your stomach. He rips your panties down your legs, the dry cotton burning your skin. He grabs his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops, his shirt untucking as he unbuttons his pants. They slide down, getting stuck on his knees as you see his tight grey underwear, his impossibly hard cock straining underneath the fabric, a small dark dot on the top from pre-cum. You look into the mirror, seeing the reflection of Charlie behind you, his cheeks tinted pink and hair wild even after smoothing it. He's so crazy, completely unhinged behind you, your pussy tightening around nothing as you wait.

Charlie's thumbs hook onto the lips of your hole, prying you open for him, his fingers splayed over your ass. 

"You sure you're ready for me," he teases. 

You nod frantically, trying desperately to get what you want as he smirks, removing his hands to take off his underwear. His cock springs free, veins protruding on his long shaft, the pink head glistening with seed. Your mouth falls open. Charlie is enormous, more significant than anything you've ever seen. He's equally as wide as he is long. Unsureness washes across your face.

Maybe you can't take it? You could barely take his fingers; how could you even handle his manhood? Charlie notices your hesitancy as he steps closer, bending as he peppers comforting kisses down your spine. 

"You can do it, sweetness." He affirms, his hot breath dancing on your skin. "I know you can." 

If it were possible to turn into a liquid, you would do so now. Charlie's words were so sincere and kind that you could melt into the cracks of the tile floor. You nod, agreeing with him as he spares you one last lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud. 

The head of his cock pokes at your entrance, daring to go farther, just testing the waters. You gasp, feeling Charlie's skin on yours enough to send you into a frenzy as you buck your hips back. He pulls away, sliding his shaft along your wetness, readying himself for you, tiny shocks of pleasure traveling through your nerves as he rubs your clit. You whine, clenching around nothing, finally having enough. 

"Charlie," you mewl, "please, I can't wait anymore." 

His heart swells at your voice, happiness overcoming his entire being at the thought of someone needing him. After all, he is a caring man. He can't deny you any longer, not when you need him.

Charlie pushes the tip into you as you gasp, gritting your teeth, a slight sting emerging from your core. He shushes you with his lips, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks as he goes in a little further. 

"Look at that," he comments. His cock disappears into you.

Your head lowers as your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escaping you as he bottoms out, stretching you so tightly around him. 

"You take me so well." 

Your body twitches at that, cinching around him momentarily, causing him to groan. The sound is heavenly, putting a smile on your face. You could listen to that noise forever, putting it on a loop and never getting tired of it. You do it again, trying to coax it out of him. Charlie grunts with a small ah, his hand smacking your skin in punishment as he slides out, leaving only a sliver of him, your lips encompassing his cock.

Charlie begins thrusting, his hips coming into contact with your thighs as you feel the tiny tickles of his hair. He doesn't go slow this time, his carnal desires taking over as he slams back into you, his head brushing against your cervix. You cry out, the pain of him stretching you mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing your sensitive spot.

You flatten yourself on the table as he pistons into you, his pace unrelenting as you continue to pant. Your hands scratch the plastic-coated wood, trying to find something to ground you at this moment as his strength pushes you against the mirror. Your cheek squishes as the oils smudge it. Your eyes look feral. Your pupils dilate with lust as you search for his. Charlie's lips are pursed, gaze downcast as he concentrates on your cunt, your pussy swallowing his cock. 

You could stay like this for hours, looking like a mindless little fuck toy for him, doing anything and everything he could ask for and thanking him in the end.

He catches you staring in the mirror, looking entranced. He grabs your hair, his digits tangling in the locks as he pulls your head back, fucking impossibly deeper than before. Your chest rises and falls in a quick breath as he keeps drilling, a pressure in your gut growing. 

"You are doing so well," he smirks. You return a small, lazy smile, happy to be pleasing him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Barber," you say breathlessly, your voice hiccuping. "You feel so good." 

Charlie sighs, your words putting him in a daze as his mind wanders. 

It's been so long since he felt this way... truly appreciated even this most simplistic of actions. It has been years since Nicole had sex with him, months since she had let him kiss her, even hug her. Their bond was severed and destroyed long ago, their spark lost. He tried to find it in Mary Ann. Charlie was so desperate for a connection, for anything, when he confided in her about his marital troubles that he had no idea she took it as him wanting her. 

He did not stop the affair from advancing; it was a good distraction for the most part. He could channel the affections and longing he wanted from Nicole through her, and it worked... kind of. 

But then you came. 

Walking up the stairs of his theater building, he was severely overdressed with an air of innocence he wanted to possess again. So new and fresh-faced to the world, Charlie realized he had to have you, be with you, guide you, and teach you about what this life has to offer.

And here he was, balls deep inside you as you panted his name, praising him for making you feel so good. It was almost naive of you to do, so childish that you thought it was a luxury to feel this good when Charlie could do it all the time. He wanted to teach you about life, and wasn't this a part of it? 

Your velvet walls tightening around Charlie rips him from his thoughts. He could tell you were close, inching your way over to ecstasy. 

He snakes his hand around you, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with your clit, your body twitching. 

"Oh, God, Charlie, I'm so close." You pant, eyes shutting as another intense wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Look at me," he demands. You don't obey, too lost in the building pressure. He slaps your clit in admonishment as your leg hikes up at the intense sensation. "Let me see those eyes." 

They almost flutter shut again at his command. It sounds like pure sex on your ears. 

"Good girl," he praises, "I wanna see your face when you cum."

Those words nearly push you over the edge, but you hold back, not wanting this moment with Charlie to end. 

"I bet I'm the first man ever to make you feel this good. The first one to have you cum from my cock alone." 

The squelching of your wet folds as he thrusts is almost embarrassing, your face heating up even more. 

"Listen to yourself. You're sopping wet, and it's all for me, only for me." Charlie's hand tightens your scalp. "You're going to fucking cum on my cock, and then, I'm going to stuff you full of my seed. Until it's dripping down your thighs and on the floor." 

You shudder, his words almost pulling you out of your body as the pressure in your stomach bursts. You orgasm deep inside, racking through every bone in your body as he pulls you through it. Fucking you until you're a blubbering mess under him, twitching and clamping. 

He lets go of your hair, and you collapse back down on the table, air shuddering out of your lungs. Charlie keeps fucking you a little slower now. You're like a rag doll under him, stilling and moaning softly when you realize he hasn't come yet. He put your pleasure before his own; tears nearly spring at the thought. You need to make him cum. He deserves it more than anything else in the world. 

You extend your back, pushing your ass into him as he grunts. He must be so close. You don't want him to hold back any longer. You want him to fuck you and use your body for his own. 

"Charlie." His gaze snaps up to yours in the mirror, his lips swollen and eyes glossy. "Please, cum. I need to feel you cum inside of me." You plead. "Please, Mr. Barber," you hiccup as his hips snap harshly into you. "You deserve it." 

His mouth twitches, his jaw clenching as he slams into you a few more times, chasing his high. His warm seed fills inside your walls as his pelvis stalls and groans, tucking his chin to his chest. He pauses, catching his breath as he finally pulls out. You squeak as his tip glides over your sensitive spot, sending a bolt of overstimulated pleasure. You hear Charlie chuckle as he shuffles around and gathers your clothes and belt. You stay there, not trusting your knees enough to get up; you're too happy to move.

Charlie gently grabs your ankles, telling you to pull them up so he can slide your pants back on. They reach the crease of your ass before he stops, his thumb gliding over your swollen and abused mound, collecting the cum dripping and pushing it back in. You gasp, still sensitive. He runs soft fabric over the area, cleaning you up to the best of his ability as he pulls your pants up the rest of the way. Your turn around still bent over the table.

"Charlie, where is my underwear," you ask, raising an eyebrow, already having somewhat of an idea of where they could be.

He grins, showing you the cum stained panties as he stuffs them into his breast pocket. You roll your eyes as you extend your arm for the rest of your clothes, regaining enough strength to move. Finally, fully covered, you glance at the costume you ruined draped over his arm as you frown.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barber. I can take it to a dry cleaner to see if they can fix it. I'll pay for everything." You still can't believe you ruined a costume on your first day. You won't believe you did many things on your first day. He waves away from your offer with a shake of his head.

"No, it's fine," he says your name tenderly. "I'll take care of it." You nod, agreeing with your lips pursed, still feeling guilty as you gather your things to leave, walking to the exit as Mr. Barber shouts for you. "Also, please don't call me that, Mr. Barber." You nod again wordlessly. "Everyone just calls me Charlie around here."

"Okay, Charlie." It feels foreign when you're saying it without his cock inside you. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say with sleep lacing your voice. "You and Mary Ann have a great rest of your day." 

Your words would sound innocent to the middle ear, just a coworker wishing her bosses a good day, but you know better, and so does Charlie. He also knows that he and Mary Ann will, in fact, not have a great day with what he plans on doing now. You've changed everything for him, unbeknownst to you, as the wheels of your makeup bag click on the floor. Whether or not it is for the best remains to be seen.

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