#wow someone did this thing I’m very passionate about so much better than I did

[mx-metronome]

One of these days I’m gonna be brave enough to share my Sky spreadsheet on the official Discord server for over half a million users to see, but until that day comes, I wish the 6 or 7 of you here that use it a pleasant evening

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.6

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Sam is v delusional, Murder visualization, Possessiveness, Brief victim blaming, Manipulation

Word Count: 4.1k

(S/n) = Similar Name to yours

Table of Contents

( Sorry for the late update! Game of Thrones has taken over my life and I’m suffering major brainrot of it )

~

“-and she was telling me that “snow can conceal but it can also reveal”, that’s what she told me right? So they might briefly be able to conceal their, uh, whereabouts, but all that blood spilled into all that white snow is bound to leave a trail leading straight to them. Her words exactly. Like, wow.” Sam said on the couch under a cap and his passionate eyes shaded by sunglasses while restating your personal analysis of the film from last night. “I didn’t know that, did you know that?”

Doctor Alan Strauss shook his head with an amused small smile. “I never thought about it in that way.” Sam threw his hands out with an enthusiastic laugh and big smile. “Exactly!” He sighed joyfully, not being able to cease his wide smile. “She is so smart, it's unbelievable.”

Alan nodded along until he decided to finally bring up the issue that’s been affecting their every therapy session. “Gene, I find it very endearing how much you love your girlfriend, but we’re here to talk about you. Need I remind you that I am not a couple’s counselor.” Sam’s smile slowly lowered and he looked to his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I… I know.”

Alan tilted his head vaguely as he noticed Sam’s energy die down like a candle once he got him to shut up about his girlfriend. “Gene, we’ve been meeting for quite awhile now and I… still feel like I don’t know much about you. I know more about your girlfriend than I do you. You spend most of the session talking about your girlfriend, (S/n), and the rest of the time I feel like you’re waiting for me to mention something related to her so you can bring her up again. And I've noticed that… you're not really opening yourself up to me.”

He noticed Sam’s clear displeasure at his prying as Sam wrung his hands together in an anxious manner. “Whenever I ask for stories or details, you have a tendency to get kind of vague or you redirect the conversation back towards (S/n). And I've noticed that I myself am feeling a little frustrated by this process. When we first started talking, you said to me that you wanted to get better for her. And the more I listen to you… continuously talk about her I’m starting to worry about the possibility of you being a little… dependent on her in an unhealthy amount.”

Sam didn’t tear his gaze away from his twisting hands, too focused on containing his expanding desire to lash out at his therapist for saying such a thing. He loved you, simple as that. Maybe Dr. Strauss has just never seen such passionate love before and didn’t understand it. Yeah, that was it! He just didn’t understand! He didn’t understand the connection you and he had. No one did. Not even his own therapist who he was paying to at least pretend to understand.

Alan disappointedly sighed at his patient's silence, even though he knew from experience that was the average reaction when telling someone what their real problem was. “I have an experiment for you.” He said which finally brought Sam’s attention back on him, a little more on edge than previously. “I think you should start spending a little less time with your girlfriend, and focus more on yourself and your mental recovery.”

Sam stared at the professional across from him, his upper lip slightly lifting. “You think we should break up?”

Alan sensed his client’s tensity, even through his dark sunglasses. He knew he had to choose his words carefully, he learned through some of their deeper sessions that talking with him about the things he has strong feelings or opinions about was like walking on a minefield. You never know when you might step on a trigger for an explosion. “No, I suggest maybe taking a break and go back when you’re feeling-”

“No!” Sam instantly snapped, a mine being set off, before recoiling back into the couch and clearing his throat from his unprepared temper burst. He shook his head while pursing his lips. “I… I won’t do it. I-I need her. When I’m away from her, I get so…” his fingers curled as he struggled to find the words, “like, so physically ill… and weak.”

Alan nodded at this with concern tugging his lips, mentally noting how defensive he got over the questioning of his relationship to his girlfriend. “It sounds to be that your… attachment to her is very similar to an addiction. And a healing strategy they encourage in rehab is slow withdrawal. You might face some painful symptoms but Rome wasn’t built in a da-”

“I think our time is up.” Sam interrupted rather dryly while rising to his feet, cutting off Dr. Strauss’ reach and closing himself off before he had the chance to enter. Alan glanced at the clock and responded calmly while looking up at his escaping patient. “We still have 20 minutes.”

Sam begrudgingly shook his head as he snatched his empty large Dunkin cup from the table that sat between the two facing chairs. “I gotta get going.” He said quickly as he darted out of the house in a heated haste, desperately needing fresh air to calm his huffing breaths from the rage he felt fuzzing up his senses.

Everyone was trying to tear the two of you apart. Everyone.

Even his own therapist was against his love for you, against the two of you being together. Not a soul understood which made him certain that no one alive had ever really experienced real love before. They were all either ignorant or jealous or lecherous.

Everyone was trying to take you away from him. Everyone was trying to devour you or taint you or just use you for their own selfish needs. Sam had already come to the conclusion that he was not a monster, everyone else were the monsters. The monsters that could never be trusted, the monsters whose minds were full of nothing but filth and greed. They were all cruel and ignorant. Every single one of them. In a state of sizzling rage boiling over the pot, Sam fantasized that if he had it his way then anyone who dared tried to keep the two of you apart or even imply it would drop dead in their next breath.

Sam squeezed his grip around the steering wheel of his truck, his eyes blown open as his pupils nearly shook like his iris’ were trying to keep his fury concealed. No matter how many people he had killed, he felt as if rivals or embodied problems just multiplied. And he repeated that thought in his head like a chant as he somehow found himself staring at the residence of the one he wanted to take his anger out on so badly right now.

He watched the man from your work, who had his sights set on your behind when you left his table, as he carried a full black garbage bag to the bin outside of his house. Sam didn’t move as he stared with flared eyes, his breath almost going silent to muzzle his anger with every ounce of his willpower.

He wished the man would just go blind, maybe that would teach him not to look at such areas on your body in such a disgusting way. He wished to rip his tongue out to prevent him from ever talking about you to others in such a filthy way again. And he wished to chop off the arm you had touched, jealousy streaming through his veins like lava as he wondered why the hell would you touch him like that and not Sam?

But he chose to ignore his own wishes and just imagine these desires in his head in intensely graphic detail. He imagined himself getting out of his car and marching right up to the man and plunging his thumbs all the way through his eye sockets. He imagined the blood running down his cheeks like tearful mascara.

He kept this all in his imagination though and repeatedly told himself to just go home, looking at the man was just making him angrier and more energetic to eliminate him. But he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to and as much he whole-heartedly believed your life would be better without him living, he knew that would postpone Sam’s recovery to be normal so that you and him could live a normal life.

And so, even when his mind was running a thousand miles per hour over who else he wished to butcher, he turned his car back on and drove home back to you. But not before picking up dinner though of course since that was the reason he went out in the first place. But even after the drive and during eating dinner with you, his previous thoughts still infested his mind like the plague.

It leached onto his nervous system as when he would take a bite out of his food he would chomp down harshly with a tightly gripped jaw; a white knuckled hold on his fork as his eyes were chained to the table because looking at you just made his anger worse. It wasn’t you who he was mad at of course, but looking up at your fragile form and seraphic eyes only reminded him of the ones who wanted nothing other than to take advantage of your indiscriminate altruism and cruelly rip you from his loving embrace.

It wasn’t until the remembrance that you wanted him to be open about who he had killed and who he had thought about killing crossed him that he finally said the first thing said in the tensely quiet dinner. “That guy who… who checked out your ass and is friends with my boss, I went back to his house again.”

Your eyes perked up towards him, your heart almost skipping a beat from the sudden break of silence. You felt your worries tug your eyebrows up as you feared where he was going with that statement.

Sam poked at his food with his fork as he continued, only giving you quick glances. “I figured I'd be okay, since what you said about feeling better knowing you’re here.” He took a slow breath, almost antagonizing your suspense. “I sat in my car across the street, and watched him take out the trash.” He paused. “I did the whole thing in my head, every second.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling relief grasp your fragile heart but not all the anxiety drained from your ribs. Not as clear indignation was still affecting Sam’s composure as he looked up at you with those dead eyes that had a tendency to come and go during the times where your fright was at its most sensitive.

“I-I want to show him… I-I want to teach him how to behave to things that don’t belong to him.” He spoke slowly as he huffed jagged breaths. “I… I still want to do it. God, even talking about it is making it worse.” He hunched over to shove a bite of food into his mouth to occupy his steaming energy.

As much as you wanted to snap at him saying you weren’t property or an object, you held back. You didn’t bother arguing over that with a man. But watching his anger gradually unfold in a sloppy entanglement of strings, a question raised to your mind in hopes of searching for more redeeming qualities in him. “For the others you… got rid of, was it always an impulse move you ended up regretting?”

“No.” Sam instantly said, not even giving it a second thought, in between bites. “They were all... I… Every one of them deserved it. And I don’t regret any of it.”

Your brows cinched together at this, your mind going back to when he told you everyone he had unnecessarily killed over you. “Even the guy I gave CPR to at work that one time?” Sam rolled his eyes as his jawline became prominent. “Especially him. I know what was running through his mind when you had your hands pressed up against him. That asshole was enjoying it and getting his disgusting kicks.”

You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from saying something along the lines of ‘no, you just know that’s what you would think you pervert’. But instead you just stuck to a short statement defending that poor victim. “He was choking.”

Sam fleetingly clenched his teeth as he shook his head in denial. “Fucking sly bastard was faking it, he knew what he was doing.” His clenched fists began to twitch in his lap as he thought back to that day, suddenly wishing he had given him a more painful death. Your eyebrows furrowed together even deeper. “He was turning blue and his eyes were rolling all the way to the back of his head.” Sam didn’t respond and only shook his head again as he slightly rocked back and forth on his heels while heated huffs populated his nose.

“And what about-” Sam roughly dropped his fork and leaned back in his chair to send you an angered glare. “I don’t know why you keep asking about them. They’re dead now.” He said with a venomous bite in his voice.

Your bottom lip fell from your top, shocked and quite offended that he would just brush all those deaths under the rug. They needed to be addressed whether he liked it or not. “Yeah. Because of you.” You snapped back, copying his glare.

Sam leaned back forward so that his elbows were back on his knees, his once furrowed brows now curving up. “They tried to take you away from me! I had to do something!” He exclaimed as his eyes dilated with depravity interlaced by the seams of desperation. “I told you they couldn’t be trusted. I got rid of them before they became an even worse problem for you. You’re better off without them anyway.” He declared with a dismissive headshake.

You leaned forward as well, your brows pinching together. “And what do you think gives you the right to make those decisions for me?” Sam released a breathy chuckle in disbelief, staring at you as if you were crazy. “We were made for each other, can’t you see that?!” He exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the word; his tone desperate and pathetic, almost sounding as if he were begging you to agree.

“None of them appreciate you like I do, none of them understand you like I do. Why can’t you see that? None of them come close to deserving you.” He smacked his hands on his knees to push himself to a stand, too caught up in the swirling storm of greedy desperacy. “And call me selfish, I don’t care, but I can’t share you with anyone else. I won’t.” He shook his head as he looked to the ground with hardened eyes while turned away from you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Even thinking about you with someone else makes me want to throw up.” He said with big eyes, blown open in a state of animalistic possessiveness of something that was never his to begin with.

Sam’s tamed restraints were loosening and his mask of sane love was slipping, you could hear it through the drowsy glorification of fixated obsession of his ramble and you could see it through the way his jealousy tightened the muscles in his face.

You stiffened in pure dismay, watching him unfold then wrap his exposed emotions back in again as you tried to understand the enigma that was his deep rooted passion for you and how he went about it.

Now you were certainly no stranger to witnessing someone express their jealousy over you, having been subjected to receiving interrogations from your boyfriend over his allegation of your faithfulness when you got too touchy with one of your guy friends. You’ve never been a fan of the emotion as nothing good ever came of it.

Looking back on your friendship with Sam, you were shockingly disappointed that you hadn’t noticed Sam’s jealousy when it was literally right in front of you every single time you briefly conversed with any other person about literally anything. Living with your boyfriend you’ve grown familiar with recognizing jealousy forming. But perhaps Sam had trained his face to remain neutral during moments he surely would’ve imploded if he were alone.

And with your naivety to his burning jealousy came your naivety to his true feelings about you. But looking back you should’ve seen it coming, at least notice how similar his mannerisms around you were to a crushing little school girl.

His feelings for you were almost difficult for you to understand. You thought back to the statement someone had once said in your philosophy class: that love was just a normalized form of insanity. You always had mixed feelings in that debate but now you started to wonder if love wasn’t insanity but instead love causes insanity. You didn’t know what Sam’s mental state was like before meeting you so you weren’t sure if you were really the cause of his sanity’s downfall.

But either way you know that there is something wrong with him; something sickeningly distorted within his fogged mind of fixation that made him take love too far. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express his feelings nor how to go about dealing with the pain love inevitably came with.

Why was this happening? Why you? Was your kindness really so foreign or warm to him that it was enough to push him down the rabbit hole of hysterical adulation? Were you really that desirable in Sam’s eyes that he would inflict life-ending violence on all those who posed a threat to your peace or to him obtaining you?

God, maybe you were still clinging to the image of that endearingly awkward man you’ve grown to value as a true friend rather than a regular customer but you just couldn’t picture him hurting anyone no matter how many times he had confessed to doing so. You had such love-hate feelings for Sam, love for the friendly bond you still experienced such a weakness against and hate for how he ignorantly wreaked havoc over you by holding you prisoner until the stockholm syndrome kicked in, him being delusionally isolated from the knowledge that his actions were only creating a bigger rift between you and falling for him.

It wasn’t until a thought was birthed into your mind that you started coming to your own conclusions that could possibly convince Sam to second guess his choices. Sociopaths couldn’t feel love, so maybe he was just manipulating himself into believing he loved you.

“I know you said you don’t take pleasure in killing but… are you sure? Maybe you’re just using me as an excuse and a justified reason.” You asked carefully, looking up at him with quiet eyes as your heart was racing over the fear you were being too risky with his temper that was already kicking in the moment.

And you were right, your question caused Sam to snap his head over to your direction. His small pupiled eyes were venomously glossy with his nostrils flared and his lips parted with a grip, his brows pinching together. You felt your whole body flinch in a flight mode of fear as he suddenly started marching back towards you with a raised volume and harsh tone in his voice.

“I only kill because of you! Maybe if you would stop talking to so many peo-” He bit back his words into his throat as he noticed the way your shoulders tensed and you slightly twisted on your core as if you were bracing for him to assail you, your bottom lashes smeared with slimy tears.

He took a step back from your fear-stricken form as he ran one hand through his dark hair and the other held palm out to you in an attempt to say he meant no harm. “Ah shit, I’m sorry. God, fuck, I… Don’t be scared, I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you. It’s them. It’s them I’m mad at, not you.”

You hadn’t even realized your own reaction until you swallowed the thick lump in your throat and sniffle through your nose. You gulped again as you craned your eyes away from Sam and occupied your hands by rubbing them on either of your elbows to comfort yourself, just like what your mom would do with you after your dad had screamed at you till the point of your pouring tears. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” You said through a tight throat as you stood up to walk back over to lay in your bed, cursing yourself for reacting that way in front of Sam.

Sam speechlessly watched as you slipped under the covers and wrapped yourself up in a way to cradle yourself. He didn’t want you to cower in the corner and hug your own body to comfort yourself, that was supposed to be his job! He wanted you to love him enough to go to him for a protective embrace for safety and comfort.

He didn’t mean to lash out at you like that! He didn’t mean to blame you for your own nature. And he certainly didn’t mean to scare you nor make you fear that he was going to hit you. He would never hit you, he was not his father. He just wanted you to get that already! Why couldn’t you understand?

He felt his own throat grow heavy as he watched as you tried to restore yourself back together from the emotional injury of his outburst. Sam bit his lip, dragging his teeth as his gaze sharpened on you. “You probably think I’m nothing more than a monster while all I do is try to protect you.” He said to you, not even realizing the snotty defensiveness in his vocal chords.

It was silent for a few moments, like it was taking a millennium for his words to echo to your ears, and he started to believe you weren’t going to say anything at all. Sam sighed in disbelief, darting his eyes around the room at how this night ended as he turned for the pursuit of his room. Your soft voice, however, spoke up and halted his tracks.

“…I know.”

Sam quickly looked over you, his features softening to match your tone and his eyebrows raised. “Y-you do?”

Your face remained concealed from his wondrous stare as your hunched shoulder along with the thick blanket were blocking the view of your compact smirk. “Yeah, I… I understand that you were just trying to help me. I can’t blame you for being concerned. Maybe I am not a very good judge of character which practically makes me a walking target for social parasites.”

Sam felt a smile twitch the corners of his lips. You were finally getting it! You were finally facing your flaw that made him required to physically harm people. Sam said with a consoling tone of voice, “You’re just too trusting. It’s not your fault. You’re a genuinely good person, pure of heart, too good for this world. In fact, you deserve the world.”

He said all of this with such tender fondness that you almost forgot what kind of person he was; forget your state of lack of freedom and choices. This has happened many times, where he wasn’t shouting either in passion or anger and he just spoke gently with you. Those were the times when you actually believed he loved you and cared deeply about you. Those were the times you hardly believed he was savagely hurting people outside of the house. You would keep forgetting of the rotten part of your reality when he acted this way, it was a complete mindfuck.

And maybe sometimes you liked to pretend that you weren’t a prisoner and he wasn’t a murderer. Pretend your chain didn’t exist and you were just spending the night at your dearly beloved friend’s house. Or just for experimenting, pretending that you and Sam were a healthy and loving couple.

You pondered the question of what if Sam confessed his concealed love to you before kidnapping you. You felt too biased now to ever actually know if you would’ve given him a chance, whether you had a boyfriend or not. But maybe if he told you the truth or even waited long enough for you to start feeling strong feelings for him too, things would have gone much differently. Maybe the two of you could’ve been a happy couple.

But that was only what could have been; what might have been.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina

[kendrixtermina]

The „passions“ as specific experiences

I hadn’t put these on tumblr & it occurred to me that I probably should

After consuming a lot of books, videos, first-hand accounts etc, I’ve come to the conclusions that the „passions“ are in fact rather specific combinations of thoughts & emotions than in theory anyone could experience, but which the types for whom it’s the main issue experience quite powerfully & get chased about the landscape by.

Perhaps it’s better let’s use the term „lower emotional habits“ to get away from judgy religion sin talk. nowadays a lot of therapists like to use labels like "counterproductive" or "unhelpful" to avoid ppl internalizing anything in a judgy way.

Now I love a good cardinal vices gimmick & we could have a nice long interesting talk about how the trope has been taken up in Japanese media & there interacting with the cultural background of buddhism, but I think in this case Ichazo’s desire to fit his list of observed „chief features“ (which he derives from simply sorting ppl by what annoys them the most; it will surprise no one to learn that he was an 8...) trying to fit it into the gimmick created a bit of confusion potential like you always gotta explain that „oh, its meant in the old english or latin sense of the term“.

Plus my inner pedantic art critic is a bit salty that they didn’t think to use Despair (the 8th deadly sin in orthodox christianity) for the 6 to complete the set of slightly confusing terms.

So I’m thinking, let’s get some specificity in here & try to compile what it actually, concretely is based on experience reports, just for specificity’s sake & to perhaps help ppl with their self-observation.

1 – frustration with things not being how they should or could be. Some are actually pretty conscious about how this motivates them to work hard & always do better, but it can also turn to stress & resentment or being aggrieved that reality isnt utopic

2 – that hit of gratification when someone says „Wow, I couldn’t have done it without you.“ Not that unlike with the 3, this isn’t just about good regard in general, but about having special significance to particular ppl. being tempted by the idea of being "indispensable"

3 – ppl report rather strong gratification when they’re admired/ praised, but also that they can be too focussed on what they „should“ be feeling/performing in such a situation that little attention is left over for their actual feelings or preferences.

4 – negative comparison. But not just or not necessarily of the self with others, but also general ‚if only…‘ scenarios, wishing things had gone differently, lamenting past losses, imagining better alternate scenarios, or even just against ones own idea of how one should be.

5 – the kneejerk refusal. That sometimes quite hostile ‚eugh, no!‘ kinda feeling when you’re suddenly talked at, asked to participate in something or even contemplating a task that you „have“ to do. Sometimes there’s a spike of dread, like ‚oh no what will I have to do now?!‘ or ‚It‘s too much, I can’t.‘

6 – that thing where as soon as you get settled on an idea, or encounter the slightest sugestion of another possibility, you immediately go ‚...but what if I‘m mistaken??‘ or ‚...what if it all goes wrong?‘ and the building anxious charge that sometimes comes with it.

7 – It’s a thought pattern where you just *must* have or do this one additional thing & feel like if you did have it then you’d finally be happy – but often you may just start craving the next thing. The LaHue guy has a very evocative video on this where he describes it as almost like the world curving and all paths twisting towards whatever Must Be Had. Implicit here is some anxious assumption that if you didnt get it that would be really bad.

8 – A tendency to amp up the intensity when encountering obstacles or opposition to one’s pursuit of pleasure and goals, be it interpersonal conflict or just „conquerring“ the stains on the floor. The difference to the 7 thing is that the 7 would be content if the nice things just fell in their mouth whereas for the 8 there’s some ‚thrill of the chase‘, anxiety or anger or even pain gets registered as positive excitement, so it has almost a little bit of a self-destructive component. What is being craved is not just gratification, but a sense of triumphing over obstacles.

9 – this is one of the harder ones to grasp, cause it’s less ‚active‘ in a sense. It’s when you’re thinking of doing something for your own development, like going after a goal, stating an opinion, drawing attention etc. and at the first serious obstacle you’re like, ‚ah, screw it, it‘s not really worth it’. Not worth the effort or the ruffled feathers or the discomfort in thinking about it, or whatever it is.

Yeah it’s not being lazy and it’s not „avoiding instrospection“ either – though it might be avoiding thinking about particular things that are to do with your goals, impulses and wishes and have discomfort associated.

What I find really interesting is how some types are built around chasing highs whereas others are rather structured around reacting to something unpleasant.

Note also that for the impulse types its a response to an obstacle to your will, for the feeling types its to do with self-evaluation, and for the mental types there’s a quality of tension to it, of fearing a bad consequence.

Like, for example, the 9 one - Of the common analogies inertia is probably the best, like a little rock rolling back into the valley if it wasnt pushed with enough force to overcome the hill.

The 1 will just stubbornly keep rolling gravity be damned and will argue that the stupid hill shouldn’t be there, the 8 will push the rock extra hard on the second attempt and send it flying…. Seeing the structure yet? Its really cool… even if it a map of what’s ruining our lives.

You can derive the triadic characteristics from this, 9 gives up but also tries to be ok with its current situation, 8 goes boom! But pursues what it wants…

Or with the heart types – 2 is chasing a feeling of positive self-evaluation (& trying to get it from others), 3 is proactively assuming a particular way of being evaluated that works for the situation, 4 is reacting to a negative self-evaluaton.

My latest attempt to get control of my life consists of mentally labelling the voice that says „No, no, I dont wanna, fuck you“ as my Inner Goblin and as the one that’s like „I can’t! I can’t! It’s too much!“ as the Inner Victorian Maiden in an attempt to maybe take them less seriously or remind myself inerrogate the soundness of their claims. They’re very persuasive sometimes tho, it can feel like a survival threat, this is all pretty deep-rooted automatic shit.

If it was wholly illusory, it would be too easy – sometimes I really don’t wanna or really can’t, so the trick is in distinguishing rather than kneejerk defaulting.

Same goes for the others, probably – enjoying being praised, for example, isn’t always bad. If you got it fairly & didn’t twist yourself into no painful contortions to get it, why shouldn’t you enjoy it?

So there’s the complicatedness.

[radama-zard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 24 - Mellifluous

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

FCG / Anni Aughta (Modern Human AU)

Everything about Anni was musical.

Her passions, her laugh, the way she always stepped in time with the beat.

To many she was a boisterous and nasty punk, with all the social graces of a bag of flour and a bite far worse than her already rancid bark.

To Fresh Cut Grass though, and by extension the rest of the Krook House Crew, she was a complete and utter delight. What made her an outcast to society just made her fit in here with them all the more. Her argumentative nature gave Ashton someone to safely banter and bicker with. Her more solitary nature gave Milo the space to work on their passions without worrying that they were ignoring her. After all, if Anni wanted their attention she’d make that known, loud and clear.

And with Fresh Cut Grass?

Well, he loved the music she played. Nothing was more soothing after the average death charred 3am nightmare than the sweet melodies lofting from Anni’s bedroom. Usually the violin, her weapon of choice, so to speak.

A pleased sigh slipped forth, as Fresh Cut Grass shifted their head safely in Anni’s lap, letting the gentle strokes of the bow melt their anxieties away.

“Thanks for lettin’ me listen again, Anni,” they whispered during a particularly long lull in her private bedroom performance. “I know you don't usually like letting anyone in when you're practicing, even if I think it always sounds real pretty and all…”

Anni rolled her eyes, failing to hide the affection behind the gesture from the blue eyed delight in her lap. Like she could ever be truly annoyed with them for even a second.

“You were sobbing so loud that I'm surprised you didn't wake Mi and Ash. How drunk did those fuckers get to sleep through that?”

“They're certainly due for some nasty hangovers in the morning… I’m sorry if my crying disturbed you.”

“Cut it with the apologizing bullcrap! We don't say sorry for fucking crying in this household, okay?”

“I- I know, but I was very loud, and you were trying to practice…”

“And look! I still am! Wow! It's like you didn’t disturb shit!”

Well, that was true. Sure, Anni had taken a 15 minute break to pull them from their bedroom (gosh they hated sleeping alone… but Ashton, with Milo in their lap, had fallen asleep in front of his door, blocking Fresh Cut Grass from getting in), and into her own. Had had to comfort and hold them and he shook and sobbed and sullied her favorite Metallica t-shirt.

But once they'd calmed down she'd motioned for him to lie down and had picked her violin right back up. Anni allowed him to lay their head upon her lap, and well, everything had been fine from there. She hadn't even complained once, something they knew was hard for her.

Anni really was trying her best for him.

“... Thank you, Anni. Really.”

“For what? For the great tunes? ‘Cause that's the only thing you can thank me for. The rest…” Anni paused, slowly turning a peg to adjust a string. “... It's what you've done for me before. Without a single fucking complaint, even when I'm bein’ a fucking bitch about it. That means a lot. So it's no big deal. I don't like seeing you upset, Sunshine.”

Oh.

They hadn't realized it had meant so much. Fresh Cut Grass had only been doing what they thought was right, had only wished to make her feel better. They didn't like seeing her in pain, not one bit. Anni deserved so much more than life had given her.

Everyone in this beat up little house did.

“The music is beautiful, as always. I saw a word a few days ago that I think describes you pretty well. Mel… Mel-li-flu-us? Mellifluous!”

“What's that mean?”

“It's a sound that's pleasingly smooth and musical to hear! Like your violin, or when you hum along to show tunes or just your voice in general. It's a very fitting description, don't you think?”

“.... Fuck you’re a sweetheart.”

A deep red spread from Anni’s cheeks, glowing as soft and pretty as the moonlight that filtered through her bedroom window. Fresh Cut Grass thought it only added to her charming loveliness.

“You are too, Anni. But don't worry! I won't tell another soul!”

“You damn well better not! This shit is for you and you only, got it?”

“Yes mam!”

“Uck, don't make me regret my soft spot for ya…”

Fresh Cut Grass laughed, and Anni couldn't help but think how mellifluous it sounded as well.

Fuck. She really was going soft, wasn't she?

[hchollym]

Is there any way Percy/Sirius could work?

Oh wow, interesting question!

Well first of all, all things are possible through fanfiction, so jot that down. 🤣 Seriously though, I personally love crack pairings, so if you want to write/read it, then go for it whether it works realistically or not! 😊

Now back to your question...

Could it work in canon? No. I can’t see a time/opportunity where it would make any sense for it to happen. 

Could it work in a canon divergence? It's possible. I do think both characters are bi/gay, so that’s not an issue. 

There are two main canon divergence scenarios that I could picture for these two to work out (not well, but we’ll get to that): 

Sirius doesn’t die (which would completely change the outcome of the books, but let's pretend it doesn't).

Percy sides with the Order and never disowns his family. 

I’m going to put the rest of the explanation under the cut, because this is your warning for sexual content.  

If everything stays the same in the books except that Sirius lives, then I can definitely picture Percy & Sirius finding comfort in each other after the war. 

They both lost a brother that they feel like they abandoned/failed (because Harry would have told Sirius about Regulus by that point); they both made mistakes and regret them; they both feel like they didn’t contribute enough to the war; and they are both highly traumatized and grieving. 

I don't think it would be a super healthy relationship; they would likely use each other to “cope” which would lead to some rough codependency issues mixed with excessive alcohol consumption (based on the fact that Sirius had taken to drinking in Book 5 & this post about Percy’s drinking), but that kind of stuff happens. 

But if they get together in an AU where Percy never leaves his family, then that’s going to be even more problematic.

I explained in this post that Percy & Sirius wouldn’t get along well platonically, so if they did get together romantically, then it would probably start as a one-night stand (fueled by alcohol and frustration). On the plus side, they would likely have an intense and passionate sex life. On the other hand, they would also argue all the time (it would almost become a type of foreplay) and drive each other mental. 

Their relationship would be rife with daddy issues (from Percy), incestuous undertones (Percy reminds Sirius of Regulus while Sirius probably reminds Percy of the twins/Bill in many ways), and jealousy (on Percy's part because Sirius fits in with the Order/Order members much easier than he does & on Sirius' part because Percy gets to live a relatively normal life and not be stuck inside the house all day).

It's also my headcanon that they are both in love with someone else (Percy with Oliver & Sirius with Remus), which could also be another factor that pushes them together (because they can’t have the person they really want), but it would definitely lead to more jealousy and mistrust, especially since they're both best friends with the other person they have feelings for. It would turn into one of those relationships where they’re constantly accusing each other of something and checking each other’s phones (figuratively speaking), and neither of them realize (or acknowledge) how hypocritical it is. 

It would be dysfunctional and toxic, and neither of them would be satisfied emotionally, but they’d probably be satisfied sexually, so that would be just enough for them to stay together longer than they should. 

To summarize, if they did get together in this AU, it would still be a dumpster fire (like their platonic dynamic), but they'd be having sex too, so yay? 🤷🤣

Like I said at the beginning though, fanfiction gives you the option to write whatever you want, and I'm sure there's a lot of very AU scenarios where they would work much better!

Thanks for the ask. 😊

[hirokiro]

Stories on the high seas. or something

(((Saw some random promptish thing that sparked this. It’s not great but I’m in a writing prompts mood because longer stories just... you know...  you get writer’s block))

Was there anything better than being entirely alone, the only person for miles, and being able to do dramatic voices out loud with your favorite book?

Fisher looked on the bright side of being lost at sea in a boat entirely alone. They still had some food, plenty of water and no one to make fun of the acting.

If only they had a second oar.

Storms amIright?

“The fight was heated yet Protagonist fended off their adversaries even as they were pushed to the brink.

“‘Give up Protagonist! You cannot hope to escape!’ the captain called.

“‘Never will you take me alive!’ Protagonist shouted as they fought. Desperate, they ran another soldier through with their blade and stepped back a final step. Looking out over the raging sea, the stormy wind whipping their hair into their deep green eyes, they decided then that they would risk death in order to remain free-”

Fisher stopped mid-sentence. Had a fish just jumped out of the water in their periphery? A shark fin glide by?

Ulf. It made them shiver to think of sharks hanging around. After a moment of listening and looking around, Fisher went back to it, reading some more. Several minutes passed.

“...’Love interest’s heartbeat quickened to look upon Protagonist’s face as they spoke so passionately of the fight to free the people! their hand went to their breast as they listened.” Fisher put a fist to their own chest, “Protagonist was so–!’ Hello there.”

Fisher’s own heart beat just went from normal speed to very very quick as they caught sight of the eyes at the side of the boat looking up at them and the grasping pale green fingers holding the edge.

The two locked eyes. Oh wow it was a merfolk wasn’t it?

Stories of what the sea people did to sailors flashed through FIsher’s head as they stared at each other.

Oh no oh no oh no oh nooooo!

The merfolk reached a hand out, Fisher scrambled to the other side of the boat, rocking it. The merfolk pulled and lifted to rock them back.

“Don’t… sss.. Stop.” the merfolk complained brokenly.

Fisher sat breathing quickly, absorbing what just happened. It spoke? “You… uh.. Like that, then?”

Hope!

“Y… yesss.” the merfolk replied with a smile full of sharp teeth.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Fisher thought about the situation. “If… if you know where land is,” they began, “I can get more of these,” They held up the book, “They’re Books. People write in them so others can enjoy the stories. Would you like to hear more?”

The merfolk nodded, smile widening, “Been listening…” they held up four fingers and then pointed to the sun, “that many.”

“Four suns?” Fisher questioned, “Oh! Four days? Really?”

Merfolk nodded, looking pleased.

“You liked it that much?” Fisher felt both embarrassed and pleased. This was amazing! Someone liked their dramatic reading and appreciated the story. Four days meant they had heard the last bit of the book before Fisher had started over with more confidence in their acting.

“I take…t…to… land… Get… family… Hear m.. more.” the merfolk continued before pushing off the boat and diving back under the water.

Fisher tentatively peered over the side. Merfolk’s head bobbed back up, “Do n.. nnnot m.mmove.” they said before disappearing again.

Fisher sat back, somewhat stunned at the whole interaction.

Time went by. Fifteen minutes, half an hour, two hours. Fisher wondered if the boat had drifted so much that the merfolk lost them, or had a short attention span. If Fisher ever got back home people weren’t going to believe them. To pass the time they made harnesses with the rope they had, figuring the merfolk could pull them along.

If they came back.

Fisher was dozing when the boat tilted abruptly, startling them awake as they rolled to the edge with a squeak of surprise.

“Hiiiii,” the merfolk grinned, face inches from theirs, “Take… you… land.. Now… you … speak that now?” they pointed to the book.

Fisher held a hand over their racing heart.

“Yeah,” they said nervously, “Yeah.”

The merfolk let the boat go and it rocked violently back and forth for a few moments.

Fisher tentatively sat up and saw several heads bobbing in the water, big fishy eyes staring at them.

One grumbled, “See if good… if not.. Eat.”

“No!” the original Merfolk snapped, “Leave if not like. I like!”

Others muttered agreement. Fisher wondered if Merfolk had been trying to repeat the story to them. They sort of looked like they were waiting in anticipation.

“Okay, um.” Fisher took up the rope, then looked at their net, “I guess we have to figure how you can pull me along. You can rest now and then and I’ll read while you rest. Okay?”

A chorus of echoed “Okay”s were the response, and after reading the first chapter over again for the newcomers, they were on their way.

It took days. Fisher was out of food and their voice somewhat raw by the time land was sighted and oh! How happy they were to see land!

A little discussion and they and the merfolk worked out how to get them close enough to call for help while the merfolk hid. The promise was that in a day or two Fisher would return to do their job and read to the merfolk again with a new book!

And that worked out wonderfully. The merfolk, once understanding the use of the net made it a point to help. Fisher became quite successful, and every day they fished, they told the merfolk more and more stories.

Eventually the truth of their success got out and soon anyone who could read was being hired to go out on the boats and read to the merfolk. The area became the safest to fish and travel to, and quite well off for a fishing town, the merfolk now jealously guarding their story tellers from harm.

[diabolicalacid]

this is going to be long….but i have to let this out my chest because i am going to combust just thinking about this:

if ms. self destructive is gonna end up mr. sakusa im going to screaaammm !! i don’t think it would be a wise decision if they decide to rekindle when their past barely even has a foundation. it was literally just a fling that happened in their teens, like it’s so petty!! who in their right mind would go to that extent just to have a “sloppy revenge?” also, made my blood boil when reading how she’s just shirking off her responsibilities and goes back to her “woe is me, i‘m the only one suffering in this world so all of you should have sympathy for me and be there for my every beck and call” attitude and mentality, e.g. when she went off in the gc for the first time without warning and put someone on the spot with personal details, when she doesn’t have an ounce of professionalism, passion nor dedication to her career (literally made me scream because the job market is very competitive and she’s just wasting it like she was born with a golden spoon in the mouth, hello!!), when she repeatedly never listens to her friends and blows them off, her constant mean and derogatory comments about reina (calling her a bitch and a wench…it did not ate as she wanted it, just made her pathetic honestly 🫤), and when she turned the situation around and basically told shoyo (non-verbatim) that her feelings were more important than “a bunch of games that’ll never lead up to the future/amount to anything” or something like that. the nerve of her to just say that to a person whose life revolves around volleyball!!! whose career is being an athlete!!! whose income would be determined by whether their team wins or loses!!! how dare she.

literally never hated a reader so much which is a double edged sword because i love when the roles in the story are reversed from the usual, like the character is the one hurting and the reader is the a-hole. your characterization and ability to make a character so insufferable, unlikeable, and hateable is amazing btw. i wouldn’t be surprised if kenma and kuroo leaves her in the dust. i wouldn’t be surprised when she just gets fired because behaving like that and not doing your job properly only because of your personal problems is a big no no in japan, and it will literally lessen your chances of getting rehired in another company once they do a background check on you and find out your incompetence.

the reason why im so fired up with boarding the hate train against reader is because this particular situation hits too close to home, because i know someone like this irl. well, knew, since both my friend who is involved with this particular incident, and me, cut off ties with the messy ex-friend. in this situation i was like kenma and kuroo in one. it was very emotionally exhausting and draining, and it’s really not worth it to save a friendship when you know they’re headed to crash and burn but they don’t want to change because of their singular goal. that, and having tunnel vision, only seeing what they want to see, the whole shebang. i don’t mind telling you the background story behind it, but idk if you want me to blow up and rant in your askbox though lmao.

to reader in the story, only thing i can say is: f*ck around and find out. 🥱 play stupid games, win stupid prizes 🥴

i appreciate the fact that you took your time to write this all down. like wow 😭 i’m really glad that you were able to cut ties with your messy friend and start clean. as for kuroo and kenma, they’re pretty used to yn. they shouldn’t be, but they are.

everyone will get their happy ending, but happy ending doesn’t mean yn and sakusa will end up conventionally. clearly they’re both very toxic in their own ways right now, so there’s a lot they need to work on.

and yn being rude to her friends, saying things she knows she’ll regret— that’s such an everyday thing, it’s truly sad. i hope she gets better, cuz sunshine sho didn’t deserve all that she said to him 🥹😭

[frogtanii]

℗ me and my husband

atsumu x fem!reader (poker face ending)

series masterlist

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

wc. 3.2k (holy shit)

warnings. NOT PROOFREAD, v v soft domestic, marriage :00, smut!! (is marked off!!), soft dom!tsumu, hair pulling (giving), unprotected sex, slight praise kink, pretty vanilla ngl

an. can be read as a one shot but u might be confused lmfao also this took SO LONG OMFG also also heavily unedited, take things w a grain of salt lmfao anyways don’t forget to feed me ahaha m rlly proud of this so i hope y’all like it <33

it was moving day and atsumu was about to lose his mind.

today was the official day of the hyper house disbandment and while most of the members were still figuring out new living arrangements and thus remaining past the deadline, you were one of the few trying to get out as soon as possible.

makki and mattsun were so excited to have you move in, they showed up early that morning to help you pack. now, it was around 1p and it was almost time for you to go. you still had a few more boxes to go but things were speeding right along.

normally, atsumu would be right by your best friends helping you out but he was currently in the middle of a breakdown.

you were leaving. leaving. he had no idea when he’d see you again (even though you promised to meet up weekly to catch up), if he would ever see you again. for all he knew, makki and mattsun would just hide you away forever, never to be seen again.

okay, so he was panicking.

it was just... atsumu was in love with you. he’d known for a while (way longer than he’d like to admit) and he selfishly thought he’d have more time with you so that he could work up the courage to confess. but now? you were like three boxes away from a distance that he didn’t know if he or your relationship could recover from.

it wasn’t that he was bad at long distance but the tragic events that the house brought, brought the two of you closer together and he didn’t want to lose that.

atsumu let out a groan and dropped his head against the wall, his mind running with scenario after scenario, all ending in failure and utter embarrassment.

“hey, you okay?” you called out, a large box cradled delicately in your arms. as atsumu turned from the plaster in front of him, he allowed himself a moment to take you in.

you were wearing short athletic shorts, worn converses, and his t shirt. a thin sheen of sweat covered your skin, the lights above reflecting off of it, giving you a warm glow.

of course you looked hot moving boxes.

you called his name again in concern and he immediately felt his heart clench in guilt. you’d already been through so so much and here he was fantasizing about you instead of being there for you like a good friend would.

atsumu let out a sigh and shot you a wide, albeit empty, smile before walking over to you and taking the box out of your hands. the furrow in your brows told him you saw through his expression but he ignored it and made a show of lifting your box above his head and carrying it to mattsun’s car.

“see, what would ya do without these guns angel?” he joked, placing the cardboard into the trunk. you rolled your eyes and poked him in the side playfully. “die, probably.”

the butterflies in his stomach kicked up at the underlying sincerity in your voice but he tried his best to overlook it. it was much harder than it seemed, especially when you looked at him with such fondness in your gaze that made him want to kiss you senseless.

gulping hard, he quickly turned away from you, busying himself with fitting your things in the truck like a game of tetris.

“atsumu.” your voice was firm but pleading and he didn’t dare look at you for fear of spilling everything right then and there. “wow, ya sure got a lot of stuff, huh? wonder how much of this was bought with ushijima’s money,” he started to ramble but thankfully he was interrupted by makki whooping as he walked out of the house.

“last box bitches!” you shot atsumu one final worried look before running over to makki and mattsun, yelling the whole way there.

atsumu was grateful your back was to him because he couldn’t hide the affectionate look that overtook his face, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he watched you hip bump your friends while cackling wildly.

god, he was so in love with you.

what was he going to do when you moved out and away? what if you found someone, someone how loved you as much as he did (not possible)? he would wish for your happiness even at the expense of his own but... what if you both could be happy?

caught up in his thoughts, atsumu didn’t register you saying your goodbyes to the remaining members until you were finally in front of him.

“i’m gonna miss living with you tsum.” you unceremoniously launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. his heart leapt violently at the contact and he prayed to every deity above that you didn’t hear it underneath your head.

he barely managed to hug you back before you pulled away, your eyes slightly teary and red. “um, well, makki and mattsun are waiting for me so uh,” you trailed off looking back at the van and your friends who were so (im)patiently waiting for you to join them.

atsumu’s breath quickened as you scooted a bit away from him, truly getting ready to leave. no, no, it couldn’t end like this, awkward and distant. no, he wasn’t going to let it.

“atsumu?” you asked worriedly, reaching out a hand to touch him when he didn’t respond but he couldn’t hear you. he felt hot all over, like he was going to explode or magically combust if he didn’t get the words out into the air.

“tsum, are you oka-“ “i’m in love with ya.”

you paused, shock written clearly all over your face. the fear of rejection slammed into atsumu like a brick, the feeling settling in the pit of his stomach like a rock but he still didn’t stop.

“i’m in love with ya and i have been for forever. yn, yer beautiful but yer face and body aren’t even the best part of ya, even though they’re pretty damn great. yer just-“

“tsum-“

“-yer so kind, especially when ya don’t need ta be. yer badass but ya care fer others so deeply and ya make me wanna be a better person. ya make me a better person. i know ya-“

“tsumu please-“

“-ya probably don’t feel the same and that’s alright but i needed ta tell ya, before ya leave and fall in love with some other scrub, just in case we can be happy together and-“

all of a sudden, your hands were buried in his shirt and you were pulling him close to meet your lips with his, your mouths meshing together in a soft and passionate kiss.

bliss. atsumu was in sheer bliss. your lips were as soft as he thought they would be as they moved with his, his hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you even closer to him.

sooner than he would have liked, his lungs started burning for air so he pulled back but not very far, instead resting his forehead against yours.

“i was trying to tell you i liked you too, idiot,” you muttered, your eyes still closed as you spoke. he chuckled, a wide grin overtaking his entire face as he really took in what you were saying.

you liked him back. you liked him. holy shit.

but instead of saying any of that, he decided to tease you a bit. “just like? if i recall, i just confessed my undying love for ya.”

you pulled back with a faux scoff, hitting him in the arm with a huff. “shut up you ass. of course i love you too.” you couldn’t keep your real smile off your cheeks while you confessed, your soft expression bringing another wave of desire over atsumu’s body.

“can, can i take ya inside angel?” he allowed his true intentions to be heard in his words, your eyes widening when you figured out what he meant. you nodded vigorously before shooting a look to makki and mattsun. mattsun just waved you off and got into his truck while makki yelled, “get that dick!”

you heated up horribly, grabbing atsumu’s hand and pulling him towards the house and to his room. he allowed himself to be dragged along, sending winks to the other boys as he went until the two of you were standing right in front of his door.

“i love ya,” he whispered, lifting your hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss there. you grinned. “love you too tsum.”

that must have been the final straw because the minute the words left your mouth, he was on you.

••• smut begin•••

pressing you up against the door, atsumu ravaged your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours as he walked you backwards into his room, laying you down on the bed so that he was hovering over you, his hips pressing hard against yours.

instinctively, you ground up into him, rewarding you with a loud groan and a gasp of your name. “fuck angel, yer killing me here,” he laughed breathlessly, rolling his hardness against your thigh. you let out a breathy moan and tangled your hands in his hair to bring him back down to your lips.

as you continued to kiss him, his hands scrambled at your waist, pushing his hands under it to grope at your chest. you giggled at the cold of his fingers but he didn’t pay it any mind, moving down from your mouth to your neck, sucking dark marks into the sensitive skin there.

“ah, shit tsumu,” you tilted your head to the side to give him more access, just as he reached under your bra to tease your nipples. a startled gasp left you, your back arching into his careful touch. “that feel good angel?” atsumu asked, voice low and gravelly as he pinched the delicate bud, drawing another noise from your throat.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. you bit your bottom lip while he pulled your shirt and bra off, tossing them somewhere in the room. as he scanned your half naked body, he noticed you quieting yourself and he lightly shook his head. his thumb found its way to your lip, carefully pulling it from between your teeth.

“wanna hear ya angel, let me hear yer pretty noises, yeah?” without letting you respond, atsumu dove back into your chest, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth while toying with the other, a sigh of his name sending a bolt of arousal straight to his loins.

he grinded against you absentmindedly, losing himself in you, eventually switching sides to give the same treatment to your neglected bud.

while atsumu seemed to be having the time of his life attached to your tit, you were getting impatient, your arousal completely soaking through your underwear. you needed more.

tangling your fingers in his blond locks, you attempted to tug him away from your chest but his reaction was unlike anything you could’ve expected. “aahh!” he let out a strangled whine, his hips bucking against your side.

“please, tsumu, need more,” you breathed, his needy reaction not lost on you as pulled his hair a bit harder. you were not disappointed as his eyes rolled back and his mouth opened in a silent moan before dropping his head to your shoulder.

“fuck, fuck, okay angel, i got ya, i got ya.” atsumu swiftly disposed of both yours and his bottoms and underwear before lifting your leg and positioning himself at your entrance.

“tell me if i hurt ya, alright? i love ya,” he smiled down on you, your heart swelling two times at his carefulness. “i love you too,” you replied, watching as his pupils grew and a low groan broke free from his chest.

“oh angel, ‘m gonna ruin ya.” that was the last thing he said before he pushed into you, both of you letting out whimpers as he stretched you open, the blunt head of his cock just a few centimeters shy of your cervix.

your back arched in pleasure, both of your hands scrambling until they found purchase on his back, your nails digging in just when he started to thrust shallowly into you.

“f-fuck, how’re ya s-so fuckin’ tight?” atsumu growled through gritted teeth, every word punctuated with a roll of his hips. you couldn’t respond as you were too overwhelmed with pleasure, his cock rubbing against your g-spot with every slow movement.

speaking of slow, he was moving way too leisurely for your tastes. you needed him to move faster and you knew exactly how to do it.

sliding your hand up from his back, you grabbed a good chunk of hair from the back of his head and pulled. his reaction was immediate and oh-so gratifying.

an honest to god whimper poured from his lips and he instantly thrusted all the way into you, his length driving into your g-spot perfectly. you both let out twin moans as he started rocking into consistently, every movement bringing you closer and closer to your peak.

“i love ya, i love ya so fuckin’ much, angel—shit—yer so amazing, i love ya,” atsumu rambled while pounding into you, deep curses and whines of your name interspersed with his declarations of love. if you could speak, you would reciprocate but you were too busy holding on for dear life as he fucked you into oblivion.

desperate for some kind of anchor to reality, you grasped onto his locks again, gripping tightly as drawn-out cries of his name slipped from your open lips. you were close, so close and he knew it too.

“feel ya clenchin’ around me like a good girl, ya gonna cum fer me? gonna cum fer me angel?” atsumu’s hand snaked down between your bodies to rub fast circles on your clit, a shaky sob finding its way out into the open air.

“oh shit, yeah, ‘m g-gonna cum for you tsum, ‘s all for you,” you moaned, clamping down on him sporadically as you started to cum, your vision whiting out and your thighs trembling while you gushed around him.

your mind was floating off when you felt him cum with a shout, his warmth flooding you and spilling out as he collapsed onto your chest.

••• smut over •••

the two of you lied there for a while, attempting to regain your brain and feeling in your legs. you vaguely made note of the wet rag cleaning between your thighs and the following weight falling down beside you but it was only after a few more minutes that you really came back to yourself, rolling over to lay on atsumu’s bare chest.

“holy shit, tsumu,” you said in awe, your boyfriend (!!) laughing at your reaction. “i’m just that good angel, what can i say?”

you groaned and hit him in the chest but you couldn’t keep the smile off your face if you tried. “you are such a menace!”

“only fittin’ that i picked a gremlin ta be with then,” atsumu teased while playing with a piece of your hair. mock offense filled your chest as you sat up, fixing him with your ‘angriest’ glare.

“is that the kind of language you’ll be using in your vows, mister?” you were only joking but when atsumu’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his cheeks, you realized your mistake.

you opened your mouth to apologize or to make some kind of excuse but he beat you to the punch. “ya wanna marry me angel?” he asked, looking so vulnerable with hope shining in his brown irises. you couldn’t bear to lie.

“of course tsum, you’re it for me,” you reached out a hand to caress his cheek and he leaned into it, his own coming up to cup yours and hold it against his face.

“good.” and that was the end of that, that evening’s... extraneous activities having thoroughly tired to the point that you fell completely asleep with your face against one of his pecs.

if you had stayed awake a little longer, you would’ve seen atsumu pull out his phone and start a new note titled, “my angel.”

if i just said i loved you, it would be an understatement. it would be like saying the sun’s surface is just a bit warm or that the arctic is just a little chilly. it would be an injustice to you and to how i truly feel about you. love—

“-is a word that is much too soft and used far too often ta ever describe the fierce, infinite and blazing passion that i have in my heart for ya angel. ya acknowledge my strengths and ya accept my faults. ya make me wanna be a better person every day. so, today i vow ta laugh with ya and comfort ya during times of joy and times of sorrow. i promise ta always pursue ya, ta fight for ya, and love ya unconditionally and wholeheartedly for the rest of my life. ya are my best friend and i’m the luckiest person on earth ta call ya mine- wait are ya crying?"

the audience burst into laughter as you frantically tried to wipe away your tears, punching atsumu softly on the arm. “of course i am, you ass.”

the officiant cleared his throat, grabbing both of your attentions. “it is the bride’s turn to give her vows. if you may?”

you nodded and atsumu already felt like crying. again. he’d cried that morning while getting dressed and then again when you walked down the aisle in the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. now, as he watched you pull a folded piece of paper out of your bra, he knew he’d made the right decision in confessing to you, all those years ago.

he also knew he was definitely going to cry again.

“atsumu, falling for you wasn’t falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing that you’re home. today, i want to make you promises that i will always keep. i promise to never stop holding your hand or accepting your kisses. i promise to not hit you too hard when you insult me or call me a gremlin. i promise to share my food with you, to never go to bed angry, and to try and understand your obsession with professional men’s volleyball. i promise to love, respect, protect and trust you, and give you the best of myself, for i know that together we will build a life far better than either of us could imagine alone. i choose you. i’ll choose you over and over and over, without pause, without doubt, i’ll keep choosing you.

i used to never truly enjoy moments because i was always waiting for what's next. the next thing horrible thing to happen. now that i have you, i enjoy the moment. every moment.

today seems like it's the start of a new journey, but i already belong to you. falling for you wasn't falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing you're home. i love you.”

and at least in this lifetime

we’re sticking together

me and my husband

we’re sticking together

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[waitimcomingtoo]

Kiwi

Pairing: Peter Parker x film enthusiast!reader

Synopsis: Peter is skeptical of your new guy friend

Masterlist

You were a bit of a film nerd.

You always had something to say about a film. Whether it was random trivia about the actors or the original version of the script, you knew it and you had to share. Every time Peter heard you say, “did you know…”, during a movie, he knew he was in for something great. You seemed to know everything about every movie, and it brought Peter a great deal of amusement. His favorite thing, however, was when you showed him your favorite movies. You’d stay silent during these, always so enchanted by them. But when your favorite scene was coming, you’d let Peter know by giving his hand an anxious squeeze. That’s when he knew he had to stop looking at you and pay attention.

“Okay.” You turned the movie off and looked at Peter. “Be honest. What did you think?”

“I liked it.” Peter lied. He had barely paid attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the soft smile that rested on your lips throughout the film.

“That’s all?” You whined. “Did you know it took seven years to animate that dinner scene? Seven years for a three minute sequence. Isn’t that amazing?”

“It is.” Peter chuckled. “I was very impressed.”

“Me too.” You gushed. “It gets better every time.

“I bet. So how was your day today?” Peter asked as you laid your head down on his lap.

“I had a great day, actually.” You smiled up at him.

“Yeah?” Peter grinned as he stroked your hair. “What happened?”

“I was talking about The Babadook in theater today and this guy chimed in and told me it was his favorite horror film. Other than Midsommer, obviously.” You began. “Apparently he loves movies just as much as I do. Can you believe that?”

“Wow.” Peter nodded. “What’s his name?”

“Kevin.” You answered. “We’ve been texting all day. He’s making a list of his favorite movies and I’m making him a list of mine. God, I love when you meet someone and instantly click.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Peter said a little flatly. He didn’t love that you’d been texting this guy all day, especially when Peter didn’t know him. What he loved even less was how much you had in common with this guy.

As the weeks went on, Peter heard at least one mention of Kevin a day. Whether he was sending you a funny Tik tok or asking you for movie recommendations, Peter always saw his name on your phone. He checked out Kevin’s Instagram to see what he was like and saw a picture of the two of you with your arms around each other. Whenever Peter checked Kevin’s story on Snapchat, you were usually in in the background. It bothered Peter more than he liked, but he didn’t want to tell you he was jealous. He didn’t want you to think that he didn’t trust you, but he wasn’t so sure he trusted Kevin.

“Whats so funny?” Peter asked when he heard a giggle escape your lips. You were sitting on Peter’s bed, staring at your phone while he did his homework.

“It’s Kevin.” You chuckled as you typed something back. “I thought everyone in that class was uptight but he’s hilarious. I can’t believe we never spoke before this month. He’s like the funniest guy I know.”

“Wow. Good for you.” He smiled softly. “I’m glad you made a friend.”

“Me too. But enough about him. I want to hear about my lovely boyfriend.” You left your phone on the bed and went to Peter’s desk to sit with him. You sat down on his lap and wrapped your arms around him, bringing him into a long kiss.

“Your lovely boyfriend is very stressed about his annotated bibliography.” Peter sighed when he pulled away.

“Aw.” You cooed. “What’s it on?”

“Residential segregation in urban areas.” Peter told you.

“Hm.” You frowned. “I don’t know too much about that. But I could tell you five films that deal with it.”

“I’d love to hear them.” Peter smiled before leaning in for another kiss. Your kiss was cut short by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Hang on.” You sighed. “Sorry.”

“Who is it?” Peter asked as you went back to your phone.

“Kevin.” You answered before picking up. Peter frowned, feeling insecurity settle in his tummy.

“Hello?” You laughed softly. “I’m good. Yeah. It was Moonrise Kingdom. You’re welcome. Bye.”

“Sorry.” You said as you tossed your phone back on the bed. “He couldn’t remember the title of the movie I told him to watch.”

“Hm.” Peter nodded, not trusting himself to say anything helpful.

“Is everything okay?” You asked as you sat back down on his lap.

“Yeah.” He lied. “Everything is okay.”

A few weeks later, Peter was walking down the hallway when he spotted Kevin by the water fountain. He was too busy talking to some boy to notice Peter. Peter was thankful for this, since he was supposed to meet you between classes and he didn’t want Kevin to interrupt.

“There you are.” You came down the hallway and threw your arms around Peter. “Hi baby.”

“Hey princess.” Peter smiled before pulling you into a long kiss. He opened his eyes and flicked them up to see if Kevin was still there, which he was. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss out of spite.

“Woah.” You pulled away breathlessly after a minute. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just wanted to show you some love. Since I love you so much.” Peter shrugged before kissing you again.

“I love you too.” You giggled between kisses.

“Do you want to come over after class today? I have a lot more love I want to show you.” Peter mumbled against your lips. He flicked his eyes to the side again and this time, Kevin was watching. He was too far to hear your conversation, but he could clearly see how affectionate Peter was.

“Yes, please.” You bit your bottom lip. “But I can’t come until after four. Kiwi and I-“

“Kiwi?” Peter wondered.

“Sorry, Kevin. Kiwi is my nickname for him.” You explained as Peter’s smile fell. “He and I were gonna get coffee after class.”

“Alone?” Peter pulled away a little with a pour. “Like on a date?”

“No.” You laughed. “Peter, Kevin is-“

“Can we not talk about Kevin?” He cut you off and pulled you back into his arms. “I want to hear about your day. How was class?”

“Good. It’s just so long. I can’t sit through it all without zoning out. That’s usually when I start thinking about you.” You smirked as you rubbed your nose against his.

“Thinking about little old me?” Peter touched a hand to his chest before pulled you into another kiss. He slid his hand down your body and gave your butt a squeeze, making sure he was extra affectionate in front of Kevin.

“Whew.” You pulled away in surprises for laughed. “We are in the hallway, mister. Save that for later.”

“I will.” He smacked your butt for good measure. “I’ll see you after four.”

“See you.” You blew him a kiss as you walked away. Peter smirked and leaned against the wall, pleased with himself for his little public display of affection.

Since Kevin was so very fond of posting you on his social media, Peter made sure to put a picture of you sleeping on his story. He added the caption “when she sleeps in your bed more than her own” just so everyone knew what was going on.

A few weeks later, you went to Peter’s dorm after a long day of classes in need of some cuddles. You opened Peter’s door and found him laying in his bed.

“Hey, princess.” He sat up a little in his bed. “You had a midterm today right?”

“Yeah. I didn’t do too well though.” You sighed. “There was an essay at the end that I didn’t really know how to answer.”

“I’m sorry.” He frowned and opened his arms to you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” You mumbled as you climbed into his arms. “I was kinda bummed but then Kevin and I went to Dunkin so I feel better. It’s just a test.”

Peter quieted down when you mentioned Kevin, feeling that familiar sense of jealousy in his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” You noticed his mood change.

“Why are you and Kevin always together?” He asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “We just like spending time together.”

“Do you hang out in a group or just you and him?” Peter wondered.

“Usually just me and him.” You told him, which is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Peter pouted and tilted his chin up, not wanting you to see that he was upset.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up a little to stroke his face.

“He knows everything about movies. He’s the funniest guy you know.” Peter repeated the words you used. “And he takes up all your time. I don’t know, I’m a little worried.”

“About what? Kevin is just a friend.”

“But is that all he wants to be?” Peter asked. “Think about it, princess. You have the same passion as him and you’re drop dead gorgeous. There’s no way he’s not into you.”

“I promise you, he’s not.” You chuckled softly. “And he knows I have a boyfriend. I talk about you all the time.”

“You talk about him all the time too.” Peter said quietly.

“Hey, Petey.” You rolled on top of him and cupped his face. “You have no reason to be worried or jealous. I love you, okay? No one could take your place.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, satisfied with what you said. “I believe you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you told me how you were feeling.” You smiled softly. “I’ll stop talking about him as much if it bothers you.”

You kept your word and stopped bringing Kevin up, which Peter appreciated. What Peter didn’t know was he’d still have you watch you laugh at Kevin’s texts and see the two of you in the hallways.

A few weeks later, Peter surprised you outside of your economics class during his free period.

“Hey, princess.” He came up behind you and pulled you into a hug.

“Peter!” You lit up. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Kevin is about to get out of class. You can finally meet him.” You told him, and his smile fell. Of course your excitement was Kevin related. Before Peter could respond, Kevin walked out of a classroom and went up to you.

“There’s my girl.” He squeezed your hand. “How was economics?”

“Boring but he wore those pants again.” You laughed a little. Kevin seemed to know exactly what you were talking about, but Peter didn't.

“Did you take a picture?” Kevin’s eyes widened in excitement.

“I couldn’t.” You whined. “He was always facing us.”

“Ugh. Next time.” Kevin laughed. Peter looked between the two of you and cleared his throat, signaling that he was there.

“Oh, right.” You giggled. “Kevin, this is Peter.”

“It’s about time.” Kevin reached out to shake Peter’s hand. “Y/n told me all about you, Mr. Biochemistry and engineering major.”

“Nice to meet you.” Peter said stiffly as he draped an arm over your shoulders.

“You too.” Kevin smiled. “I gotta say, you’re the luckiest man in the world to be dating Y/n. I’m ready to marry her and I’ve only known her two months.”

“Yeah, well.” Peter smiled tightly and pulled you closer. “She’s taken.”

“I know.” Kevin sighed wistfully. “She never lets me forget it.”

“Haha.” Peter faked a laugh and hugged you even tighter. “I won’t either.”

“Aw.” Kevin smiled at the two of you. “Well, I wish I could stay but I have class in five minutes. It was great to meet you, Peter. We should all hang out soon.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Sure.”

“Bye Kiwi.” You called after him once he w no as walked away. You turned to Peter to see his reaction and noticed the displeased look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Did he seriously just say he wanted to marry you? In front of me?” Peter asked angrily.

“He was kidding.” You assured him. “He would never marry me.”

“He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time we were talking.” He grumbled.

“Hey.” You put a hand on Peter’s chest to calm him down. “You have nothing to worry about. Kevin is harmless. He likes me as a friend. He would never see me as something more.”

“I don’t know, princess.” Peter sighed and put his hand over yours. “He seems to really like you. I don’t think I’m comfortable with you guys hanging out alone all the time.”

“I understand what you’re saying.” You nodded. “But I promise, I wouldn’t be hanging out with this guy if I had any impression that he liked me.”

“Maybe he’s just good at hiding it around you.” Peter shrugged.

“He and I were gonna watch Eternal Sunshine this Friday. Would it make you feel better if you came too?” You suggested. “I’ve been meaning to show you that movie anyway.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, feeling a little better. His frown didn’t let up, so you pinched his cheek.

“I love you.” You teased him.

“I love you too.” He broke into a smile finally.

Come Friday, you, Peter and Kevin were sitting in your dorm in front of a white sheet. Peter and Kevin sat in awkward silence as you fumbled with the projector.

“Okay, I think I got it.” You said finally, and the image appeared on the white sheet. You went to sit between Kevin and Peter, but Peter had other plans.

“You can sit with me, princess. Right here.” Peter loudly patted his lap. You laughed a little and took a seat between his legs, letting him pull you into his body. He wrapped his arms securely around your waist and pressed loud kisses to your cheek.

“You guys are so cute.” Kevin commented as he grabbed some popcorn.

“Thanks.” Peter said through an evil smile. He kissed your cheek again and snuggled you closer.

As the movie went on, Peter became progressively more affectionate. Usually you wouldn’t mind, but you didn’t want to make Kevin uncomfortable.

“Baby, not now.” You whispered to Peter as he kissed your neck. He had already left a hickey right where Kevin could see it.

“Sorry. I just can’t resist you.” Peter whispered back. Instead of kissing you, he slid his hands up your shirt and cupped your boobs. You craned your neck to raise an eyebrow at him, but he played dumb.

“What?” He asked innocently. “My hands were cold.”

“Sure.” You chuckled and let him keep his hands there the rest of the movie.

The following week, Peter walked through the halls feeling better about the whole Kevin situation. You spent the weekend in Peter’s dorm, only ever leaving for the bathroom or food. Peter made sure he posted pictures of you together throughout the day for Kevin to see. He could tell his jealousy was getting a little out of control, but he couldn’t help it. As long as Kevin was around, he had to keep his guard up.

Peter spotted your backpack in the crowded hallway and began to make his way to you. You usually walked back to the dorms together on Mondays since your classes ended at the same time. Peter stopped walking when he saw Kevin come out of a classroom and go over to you. He kept his back against the wall as he watched you and Kevin talk, feeling insecure once again. You were laughing loudly at whatever Kevin was saying, which made Peter roll his eyes.

“See you tomorrow, okay?” Kevin asked, brushing your cheek lightly with his thumb. You smiled excitedly and put your hand over his to keep it in place. Peter felt a white hot jealousy shot through his body when he saw this, a jealousy that quickly turned or anger. It was made even worse when Kevin pulled you into a hug. Peter had seen enough at that point and walked over to you and Kevin with heavy footsteps.

“Hey.” Peter said, shooting daggers at Kevin as he put a protective hand on your shoulder.

“Hey Petey.” You smiled and leaned into him.

“Hey, Peter.” Kevin waved. “Your girlfriend is a saint, by the way. I would not have made it through this semester without her.”

“Aw.” You gushed. “Stop.”

“I wouldn’t have.” He insisted. “I wish I could stay but I better run. Austin is waiting for me.”

“Ooo la la.” You teased. “See you at rehearsal.”

“See you.” He waved goodbye to the both of you and Peter was finally able to let out the breath he’d been holding in.

“Are you ready to walk home?” You asked as you turned to Peter.

“What the hell was that?” Peter jumped in right away, surprising you with his tone.

“What do you mean?” You blinked in confusion.

“You and Kevin.” He said. “Why was he touching you like that? And why were you touching him back?”

“Kiwi was just-“

“Enough of this Kiwi shit.” Peter cut you off. “How are you going to tell me I have nothing to worry about and then let him touch and you like that?”

“He was only touching me because-“

“Because he likes you? Like I said he did?” Peter didn’t let you finish. “You guys are together all the time, you’re always talking about him, and now you’re openly affectionate right in front of me? If you’re going to cheat on me, you could be a little more subtle.”

“Cheat on you?” Your eyes widened. “I am not cheating on you. I thought we cleared this up.”

“I thought so too. But apparently not.” Peter snapped. “Apparently you and your new boyfriend just can’t keep your hands off each other.”

“Kevin is not my boyfriend. You are.” You said quietly. “But you’re really hurting my feelings, Peter. How could you accuse me of something like that?”

“How could I not? It’s not like you’re trying to hide it.” He scoffed. “If I wasn’t standing right there, he probably would have kissed you.”

“I can promise you he wouldn’t.” You said as you looked at the ground.

“I can’t believe you’re still denying it after what I saw.” Peter said, getting emotional now. “How can you throw away everything we had for a guy you just met?”

“I didn’t throw anything away.” You looked up with tears in your eyes. “You’re the one ruining things with this stupid fight. How many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing going on between me and Kevin? And how could you accuse me of cheating? Do you really think that little of me?”

“Now that you’ve shown me who you really are, I do.” Peter shot back. You sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back from him.

“You can walk home yourself.” You said through tears. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

“Fine by me.” Peter shrugged, but he was already starting to regret everything. Before he could apologize for making you cry, you walked away. He decided to give you some space instead of running after you right away. Instead, he walked in the opposite direction and began to wander around campus. And sure enough, he ran in to...

“Hey Peter.” Kevin greeted with a smile. “I thought you were walking home with Y/n?”

“She left without me.” Peter grumbled without looking up. Kevin was the very last person he wanted to talk to right now.

“Is everything okay?” Kevin asked when he noticed Peters angry demeanor.

“It’s not really any of your business.” Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

“Okay.” Kevin backed off. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Kevin.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Ugh. I hate the name Kevin.” Kevin tried to lighten the mood.

“Why?” Peter took the bait.

“It’s so masculine.” He grimaced. “It’s like, ‘hey, I’m Kevin. Wanna hear how loud my car engine is?’ Please. It’s so not me.”

“Is that why Y/n calls you Kiwi?” Peter asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah.” Kevin smiled. “Cause I’m little fruity.”

“Fruity?” Peter wondered.

“Sorry.” Kevin chuckled. “I mean gay.”

“You’re gay?” Peter’s eyes widened. “Like, gay gay?”

“Yes sir.” Kevin replied. “But I haven’t come out to everyone yet. Only Y/n and my boyfriend Austin know. I asked them not to tell anyone. I don’t need anything else for people to target me for, you know?”

Peter stared at him for a moment, feeling a panic run down his spine. He had just accused you of cheating on him with your gay best friend.

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.” Peter mumbled, feeling himself begin to sweat. You endured all of Peter’s accusations to keep Kevin’s secret, and now Peter felt awful.

“Damn.” Kevin said. “Does Y/n not talk about me? I tell Austin all about her.”

“She tries. I never let her.” Peter said sadly, angry with himself now.

“Why not?”

“Because I was stupid and super jealous.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face. “I was jealous even when she told me not to be.”

“Jealous of me?” Kevin laughed. “I don’t even like girls.”

“I didn’t know that. All I knew was you could talk to her about films and movies and I couldn’t.” Peter shrugged sadly. “I kept thinking you could make her happier than I could, so I got jealous. I’m such an idiot. You know I yelled at her today because of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you touching her face in the hallway and nearly lost my mind. I completely took it out on her.” Peter stressfully tugged at his hair.

“Oh, that.” Kevin laughed. “I’m the male lead in Y/n’s film project. My character is straight and I was having trouble portraying an accurate straight guy. She was teaching me some mannerisms that you do so I could use them on my scene partner. That thing in the hallway was just me joking around and showing her that I had been practicing. I never would’ve gotten through this theater class without her.”

“Oh my God.” Peter covered his mouth with his hand. “I made her cry over that? I thought you guys were sleeping together or something. I didn’t know she was helping you.”

“Yikes.” Kevin grimaced. “That’s not really fair. It’s not like she was the one touching me. Why would you yell at her over that?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” Peter said lamely. “And I don’t listen. She told me so many times that I had nothing to worry about. She said you didn’t like her like that, said you’d never marry her. She told me you weren’t a threat in every possible way without telling me your secret. And I just didn’t listen.”

“Peter, Y/n loves you. She would never cheat on you.” Kevin said like it was obvious. “She deserves a better apology than “I’m an idiot.” If my boyfriend tried to apologize to me like that, I’d tell him he was right and dump him.”

“Do you think she’s gonna break up with me?” Peter worried.

“Well how did you end things with her?”

“She told me to never speak to her again and walked away crying.” Peter recanted.

“Oh.” Kevin said quietly.

“What?” Petwr panicked.

“The good news is she’s not gonna break up with you.” Kevin began. “The bad news is she already did.”

“What?” Peter worried. “That was her breaking up with me?”

Before Kevin could answer, his phone buzzed with a text from you. He looked at it and cringed before looking at Peter.

“Oh no.” Peter gulped. “What did she say?”

“She said she just broke up with you and needs a coffee pick me up.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded.

“She also says she hates you and you broke her heart.” Kevin continued.

“Fuck.” Peter sighed. “I really messed up.”

“Yes. You did.” Kevin nodded. “And I’m sorry, but have no sympathy for you. She told you I wasn’t a threat and she was right. We both know Y/n, and you know her even better than I do. So we both know she’s not a cheater or a liar. She’s just a film nerd who likes to talk about her passions.”

“I know. I really fucked up.” Peter mumbled. “You’re her best friend. How can I win her back?”

“Why would you ask a gay man how to win a girl back?” Kevin asked. “Fuck if I know.”

“Right. Sorry.” Peter stammered. “Did she say anything else?”

“She said she’s meeting me at Dunkin in five minutes. And then she wants to watch Pride and Prejudice. Jesus, Peter. Pride and Prejudice? How bad did you hurt her?”

“Really bad.” He feared.

“Well now I have to go clean up your mess.” Kevin sighed. “And just so you know, I will be telling her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else. It’s always been my dream to say that.”

“Please don’t do that.” Peter begged. “Don’t tell her to sleep with anyone else.”

“If you’re under him, you ain’t getting over him.” Kevin shrugged as he sent you a text.

“What?” Peter asked. “What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry, Peter. But I’m on Y/n’s side with this. I can’t help you anymore. So don’t show up, don’t come out, and definitely don’t start caring about her now.”

“Are you speaking in riddles?” Peter whispered.

“Walk away.” Kevin nodded. “You know how.”

With that, Kevin walked away and left Peter all alone.

Peter trudged back to his dorm alone and sent you a long apology. You texted him back a day later and told him you needed some space, which he understood. He let two weeks go by before knocking on your door.

“What are you doing here?” You asked when you opened the door for Peter. He could tell you had been crying and could hear a movie playing in the background.

“Apologizing to my beautiful girlfriend who’s feelings I hurt.” He said sheepishly as he held out the ice coffee he had brought you.

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You stated, eyes flicking to the ice coffee. Peter held it out further and you took it from him, grabbing a reusable straw off your dresser.

“Yes.” Peter agreed. “But for the small price of letting me in the door, you could be again.”

“Fuck off.” You scoffed and tried to close the door.

“Here me out.”Peter pleaded and stuck his foot in the door. “What if I fuck in so we can talk? Please? I really miss you.”

“I don’t miss you.” You said without missing a beat.

“You posted the lyrics to All Too Well three times this week. You have to miss me a little.” Peter reasoned.

“What are you doing here?” You sighed, knowing he was right. “I thought I told you not to talk to me.”

Peter frowned and looked around for anyone who might be listening.

“I didn’t know Kevin was gay.” He said quietly.

“He isn’t out yet.”

“I know.” Peter nodded. “He told me.”

“You talked to him?” You raised an eyebrow at him as you sipped your drink.

“Yeah. He’s a cool guy.” Peter smiled shyly. “I see why you hang out with him.”

“Yeah. He is a cool guy. He trusts me when I ask him to and doesn’t misplace his anger.” You said through a tight smile as you walked into your room. Peter followed and shut the door behind him. He saw that you were playing Little Women on your projector and had tissues strewn all around the room.

“I fucked up.” He told you. “I never should have accused you of cheating. And I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“How many times did I tell you Kevin wasn’t a threat?” You set down your drink and folded your arms. “You said he made you uncomfortable so I stopped talking about him. You said you didn’t want us to be alone all the time so I invited you to hang out with us. I did everything I could to make you feel more comfortable without outing my friend and it still wasn’t enough for you. You just don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you.” He promised. “But I was insecure and jealous, even when you told me I didn’t need to be. I couldn’t help but feel like he could be a better boyfriend to you. He can talk to you about your passions in ways I can’t. That’s why I got so mad. I felt like I couldn’t measure up.”

“No one asked you to.” You shrugged. “I never expected you to know random shit about movies. It’s just something I like. I was happy with you just the way you were.”

“And I was too blinded by my jealousy to see that.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You told me to trust you and I didn’t. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“I don’t care.” You told him. “I just want you to leave.”

“I’m scared that if I walk out, we won’t fix things.” Peter said softly.

“Good.” You said flatly. “So get out.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but realized he had nothing productive to add. His eyes shifted to your projector, where Little Women was still playing.

“Did you know the costume designer made the same article of clothing for Saoirse and Timothee so it could look like Jo and Laurie shared clothing?” Peter asked quietly.

“Yeah, I did know that.” You nodded. “How did you?”

“I’ve been doing research on films you like to impress you.” Peter admitted. “Did you know they used Angelina Jolie’s real daughter in Maleficent because all the other children were scared?”

“I knew that too.” You cracked the faintest hint of a smile.

“Well did you know that Psycho-“

“Was the first film to feature a toilet flushing.” You finished his sentence for him. “Yeah, I know. You googling top ten crazy movie facts isn’t gonna fix this.”

“I know.” Peter agreed. “But I hope it shows you how badly I want to try.”

You stared at Peter for a long time, unsure of what to do. You chewed your bottom lip as you mulled over your options. You knew he was sorry, but you didn’t know if you were ready to forgive him.

“You asked me to leave. I’ll listen this time. I’m sorry about everything.” Peter gave you a soft smile before turning to leave.

“Peter, wait.” You said, and he internally rejoiced.

“Yes?” He asked innocently as he turned back around.

“I made more popcorn than I can eat.” You said timidly. “You should stay and finish the movie with me so I don’t waste it.”

“Okay.” Peter smiled in relief and took a seat on your floor. You sat down next to him and handed him the bowl of popcorn.

“But just so the popcorn doesn’t go to waste.” You reminded him and he took a handful.

“No, of course.” Peter nodded, not wanting to push his luck. You stared at him for a minute as he fought back a smile, losing his battle in no time. You rolled your eyes at him before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’m only doing this for neck support.” You told him.

“I believe you.” He answered as he wrapped an arm around you. “I love you, princess.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You smiled a little as you put some popcorn in your mouth. “Whatever.”

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[adhd-attention-deficit-dumbass]

How do I learn to not be annoying? I blather on about my hyperfixations constantly. I also go on tangents all the time. I can be in a conversation knowing that I'm talking too much, or that my conversation partners don't care about my hyperfixations at all and not have any ability to shut up about it even when I want to. How do I learn to stop?

Hello there friend!

Obligatory apology for answering this X months later: Sorry 😳❤️ better late than never I guess?

As for your question:

I tried writing several answers to this but none of them felt genuine and I don’t want to force myself to give advice I don’t stand for so I guess I’ll vent a little first?

This was really hard for me to answear and I think maybe it’s because it hit a little too close to home? I have always been very shy and anxious but at the same time love sharing things I’m interested in. A lot of times though it ended up with me having my feelings hurt because I went off about something I really cared about only to be met with silence or even responses such as:

”sorry I just genuinely don’t care about what you’re talking about right now”

Which in my opinion is not an okay thing to say, even if someone is going off. There are nicer ways to say it but in my opinion if people have to express that they really DON’T want to listen to you, then those are not people you should hang out with. Maybe I’m controversial here What do yall think?

Personally I have always felt that I should always at least pretend like I’m listening even if I’m not interested and ask questions so the other person feel heard and validated.

For example, my partner is very much into larping and making his own clothes/gear. I don’t really get it when he starts talking about patterns or different materials but whenever he shows me something he made I go ”wow baby! That’s awesome!” And usuallly that’s enough for him to feel satisfied.

You don’t have to be interested yourself to respect that other people have different passions.

I really hate math but when I meet people who study math for their major I always tell them how cool it is because it is! Having passion for things is really cool no matter what it is!

That said you did ask for advice so with that rant over…😅

#1 Focus on listening 🗣👂🏻👂🏻👂🏻

Often trying not to do something is alot harder than trying to do something so if we replace ”not talk as much” with ”listen more” we can instead focus on an easier task with the same outcome.

Listening is a really good skill to learn in general. Whenever you feel as if you’re talking too much; try to make someone else talk instead and focus on listening really well.

Turn to a conversation partner and ask what they think or how their weekend was and don’t settle for a single question, ask follow ups.

”How was your weekend?”

”Okay I guess, I went to visit my grandma”

”Oh that sounds nice, Are you two close? Does She live nearby? Did you do anything fun together?”

Really try to remember what they said, repeat it if you can

”So you went kayaking last fall?

Here you repeat what they said in the form of a question which will prompt them to talk more about it.

If they don’t initiate you can follow it up with:

”That sound fun! What was it like? Did you like it? Was it your first time? Are you going back this year?”

#2 Use ”outside focus”

Now this one I learned in therapy for my anxiety but it might just work for you too!

”Outside focus” is an exercise where you turn your focus from inside where all your anxious thoughts are, to the physical surroundings around you outside your body

The way it works is you look around yourself and describe everything to yourself in your head. ”The floor is made of floor” ok Maybe not like that more like ”the floor is grey and plastic” ”there’s a hole in the white cieling” ”the Grass is green” ”that house is made of red bricks”

This may not seem like much but what it does is it relocates your focus by keeping your mind busy. If you feel like you can’t stop talking try describing your surroundings quietly in your head until you feel more in control

#3 Practice mindfullness and breathing

Nothing new or revolutionary here but good old breathing exercises really do help but only if you practice so don’t get discouraged if it doesn’t work perfectly at once.

Practice breathing slowly in and out and when you discouver your mind wandering, don’t scold yourself but gently *note* the thought you were having and allow it to pass as you return your focus to your breathing.

I know it sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo but there’s a reason mindfullness is so popular and often used in CBT, it really has been one of the most important tools for me in managing my ADHD

Sorry of this post is a mess your question really stirred something in me (in a good way!) that made me really reflect on some things which is always healthy and interesting but it was a little difficult not going to lie. 😅😅

Thank you for your question and have a good day!💕✨🥰

[nojey]

fans

dream x streamer!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.4k

warning(s): cursing, failed relationship, throwing things out of anger

synopsis: (y/n) and dream met through a mutual friend and their own friendship begins to blossom on its own. they start talking more and more and the feelings they have for one another grows so much more than either of them imagined. but as they stream together, they realize how much hate they’ve started to get and rethink whether or not they should be together or not.

looking back on it, meeting dream was one of the best days of your life. that day, your friend, sapnap, had introduced you to one of his friends and from that day forward, a beautiful relationship bloomed. not a single one of either of your viewers knew you two had become friends and it was nice; keeping something to yourself from a whole community that knew almost everything about you. you both went from talking every once in a while, to every week, to every other day, to almost all day, everyday. you grew to know pretty much everything about each other, where he grew up, how his childhood was like, everything from his favorite color to what he feared the most. and as you got to know him more, your feelings for him just grew so much more than you had ever imagined. and you hoped he felt the same way about you.

when he asked you if you wanted to facetime, you were shocked. you guys were only ever either in a discord call, regular call, or texting. granted it had been about 7 months since you both became friends, but you didn’t need to know what he looks like. you like him for the person he is, how caring and attentive he is to his friends, how witty his personality is and how cocky and confident he is. you like him for the passion he has in his heart for the people and things he loves. you never had to see his face to know these things about him. but because you knew this was a big step in your friendship, you accepted. him even asking you to facetime meant so much to you. 

he called you with his phone facing the ceiling and you had propped up yours so your upper body was on full display. “clay, you know you don’t have to show me your face? if you’re not ready to, you don’t have to.” you told him. “i’m more than ready to show you what i look like, (y/n). you’re an important person in my life and i want to show you.” he replied. “okay.. if you’re really sure. i just hope you know that whatever you look like, it will not change my opinion of you.” you assured him. “i know, (y/n).” he chuckled. “which is how i know i’m ready to show you.” you smiled. your heart warmed knowing that he trusts you this much. “whenever you’re ready, clay.” you said. “close your eyes,” he said. you did what he asked of you and you heard shuffling. he let out a breath, grabbed his phone and propped it up so you could see his face. 

“you can open your eyes now.” he said. you slowly opened your eyes and your breath got caught in your throat as you fully saw him. “wow..” you whispered, still examining his face. “you’re really pretty, clay.” he started blushing and said, “stop staring, you’re just going to fall in love with me.” laughing a bit. you started blushing too and looked away. both your reasons for blushing may have been different, but you knew you were blushing because what he said was true. 

for the rest of the night you both stayed up until 3am talking about anything and everything, getting to know each other more than you already did.

the day you both streamed together was about 4 months later. the internet went crazy. your viewers and his had absolutely no idea you two had known each other but they saw the way you two talked to each other; they knew you sounded like you were talking to your soulmate. you didn’t have to watch what you said, you laughed out to your hearts content, you both teased each other in such a flirtatious manner that it didn’t take them long to start thinking you guys were in a relationship. 

but with the people who supported you, there were twice as many people who hated the idea of you two together. at first it was bearable, neither of you cared about the hate because you were happy with where you both were with each other. clay was confident that you felt the same way about him that he had for you. he fell in love with you and you knew you had fallen in love with him too. 

a few weeks after your first stream together, he asked you if you wanted to fly to florida to meet him in person and you immediately said yes. you started packing your bags and by next week, you were on your way to meet the guy of your dreams. 

when you landed, he was already there waiting for you and when you got to baggage claim you saw him and immediately recognized him. you ran up to him and gave him the tightest hug ever; you were finally in his arms. the height difference was evident and he had to lean down a bit to hug you but he felt so content with you being there, in his arms. 

“you’re really here..” he whispered. “i’m here, clay. i’m here.” you assured. tears started slowly falling down your face and you buried your face deeper into his chest, taking in the warmth that was filling you. clay started crying too, thinking how lucky he was to be able to hold you close to him.

the day after you flew in was the one year mark of you two becoming friends so you went out to celebrate. throughout the day you guys reminisced back to the nights you both stayed up till the sun rose just talking and created new memories as you adventured through orlando. when it was around 3pm clay drove you to the beach to witness the sunset and you arrived just when the sun was kissing the water. you looked around the beach and saw no one but a beautiful set up with roses on the sand. you looked at clay with a surprised expression, he smiled, took your hand and lead you to where the roses laid. he brought you to stand in the middle of it and took both your hands in his,

“(y/n), when sapnap introduced us i never knew you would be such an important person in my life and i couldn’t be more grateful for you. you have helped me through my darkest times, celebrated with me in my happiest, been patient with me when i was being insufferable, stood by me during the most boring days and acted like you were having a blast when it was only just us talking. you’ve shown me that i can let myself be who i am without caring what any other person had to say about me. there’s so many words that i can’t put together right now because that’s how you make me feel. you make me feel so nervous when i’m around you and all the words in my head just get mixed up and i never know what to say. but i do know that right now, i’m trying to ask you on a date. so (y/n), will you go on a date with me?” by the time he was done with his speech you were close to tears. “of course i’ll go on a date with you clay.”

the night of your date had been the most magical night of your life. in the day you both went to disneyworld and at night he brought you to a hill top to, once again, watch the sunset while you both ate dinner on the hood of the rental car he got. everything was so perfect, it was the best date you’ve ever went on. 

he was an absolute gentleman, not letting you pay for your things, opening the door for you, pulling you closer to him when someone got too close to you, treating you like you were a princess and you couldn’t have asked for a better guy to be with. 

after you both finished your dinner you just laid down on the hood of the car and stared at the stars, talking about a future you wish had come true. that night you shared a kiss that would be remembered through the horrid months to come.

the day you left orlando, you didn’t think it would be the last time you ever saw clay in person. when you got home you talked like normal, already speaking about a second date the next time either you or he visited. you both missed each other like crazy and you believed you would see each other very soon.

you streamed together more often and no one was blind to the smitten words you both shared, to the adoration dripping in your voices. so many people hated it and you never understood why, was it because they thought you weren’t good enough for him? because they were so protective over him? did they just hate you? so many questions filled your mind when your phone ringing brought you out of it. you reached for your phone and saw that clay wanted to facetime. you answered with a smile on your face, “hi clay!” but it soon dropped when you saw the solemn look that fell upon his. “is everything okay?” you asked. he sighed and said, “we need to talk.”

and everything fell apart.

the next words that came out of his mouth broke your heart. “i don’t think we should continue dating, or maybe even being friends.” you could feel the tears pricking your eyes as you looked around your room, trying to understand why this would come up all the sudden. “what do you mean?” you asked, slightly laughing hoping he was playing some sick joke on you. but when you kept looking at his serious face, you understood he wasn’t and your tears finally fell. he looked at you and his eyes glossed over. 

it hurt him knowing he was hurting you; the most important person in his life, the person he believed he would get married to and grow old with, the person he stayed up, losing sleep for just to get to know because you were worth that and a million more. 

“i know you see all the hate we’re getting. and that’s only us streaming together. what happens when they find out we went on a date or if we do start dating, what would the fans say?” he said, no longer looking at you through his screen. “why do you care about what they’ll say about us?” you whispered. “look at me, please.” he slowly looked back at the screen to see your face full of tears and that’s what finally broke him.

“our fans. they hate seeing us together, we can’t disappoint them. we can’t dissatisfy them. i know your fans mean the world to you and mine mean the world to me too.” he said, wiping his tears away, wishing he could just wipe yours, kiss your cheek and tell you everything would be okay. “but we can make it work, we won’t stream together as much or at all anymore. we can be like how we were before they knew we were friends! we can make it work clay..” you said. he started getting frustrated, just wanting this to be over with so he didn’t have to see you so hurt anymore.

“i can’t keep going on with my fans hating the relationship i’m in (y/n)! i can’t keep seeing my fans hate you because of me! i can’t keep making my fans mad at me because i have a stupid little crush on you!” he raised his voice. the last sentence hurting you more than anything. and he saw that in your facial expression, immediately regretting it. 

“no, (y/n). i- i didn’t mean it like tha-” you cut him off. “a stupid little crush? is that all i was to you clay? a stupid little crush? so what, that whole year we spent getting to know each other was you just having a stupid little crush on me? you asking me to fly to forida to meet you, was that you just having a stupid little crush on me? me actually flying all the way to florida to meet you, did you think i just had a stupid little crush on you? did you think me saying yes to going on a date with you was me just having a stupid little crush? what, did that date mean nothing to you? did that kiss mean nothing? did you not mean anything you said to me the night you asked me on that date? because i meant every single thing i said to you clay. you’ve impacted my life so much in such a good way, but i guess you didn’t feel the same way. was i just a joke? just someone to play with while you were bored?” you asked, not wanting to believe what he was saying. 

“no, that’s not what i meant.” he sighed. “then why can’t we work things out!? i don’t understand, clay. if you really did mean everything you told me on that beach then why aren’t you trying harder for us?” you asked, disappointment dripping through your voice. “because i just don’t think we’d work out okay!” he yelled at you. neither of you spoke, just looking at each other. he saw the nasty glare and look of hurt wash over your face. “that’s all you needed to tell me.” you whispered. 

you hung up and as soon as the call was disconnected you sobbed. you cried your eyes out. the guy you were in love with made you believe he wasn’t in love with you. you were absolutely devastated and you didn’t know if you’d ever be as happy as you were with him.

---------

in florida, sat a man with his phone clutched in his hands, tears streaming down his face that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon. he whispered, “what have i done?” he screamed, he threw things, broke picture frames, punched the wall. but doing all those things would never bring you back to him.

---------

twitter

(y/n): hey everyone! i think i’m going to take a break from streaming and all social media for a few months. i don’t really want to go into detail right now but maybe if i come back i’ll explain everything. until then i hope all of you stay healthy and hopefully i come back eventually, i love you all :]

————

authors note:

you guys!! there will be a part 2, send me an inbox or a message if you want to be on the tag list !!

[d0llpie]

Angry confessions

Summary: You’ve tried everything to make Kyotani realise you like him but he thinks you’re joking

Kyotani x reader

Warnings: cursing

angst to fluff, mutual pining

a/n: i might make a part 2 but i’m not sure, lmk if you want one!

wc: 2.5k

Kyotani couldn’t stand you. Your annoying smile and indifferent attitude while he told you to get lost. Couldnt you take a hint? Apparently not as you continued to greet him the same warm way every time you saw him, slipping him notes during class and flirting with him. Couldnt you flirt with some other poor soul? he couldn’t handle it anymore, knowing you weren’t really flirting with him. Maybe you did flirt with others, that only made it worse, knowing it wasn’t just him who got to see your smile and teasing laugh everyday. Honestly he didn’t know which way was worse, all he knew was that he was sick of you.

It started at practise, he was used to Oikawa’s fan girls attending their practise just to ogle at the captain, that always annoyed him but he soon found you to be worse. Oikawa has tossed him a ball to spike down and you started cheering for him. He whipped his head around to see you smiling brightly down at him, waving. He was taken back, his scowl dropping for a minute as the tips of his ears turned red before he continued on with practise, trying to ignore your cheers everytime he spiked. You trailed behind him to the school date, chatting on about your day and how amazing Kyo’s spikes were while he just grunted and continued walking in front of you, trying to speed up. Every time he sped up, you did too, he wasn’t sure if you were just stupid or if you didn’t care that he was trying to get away from you but either way it confused him.

Since then you’d follow him around, having one sided conversations with the back of his head on the way to the gym, in between classes and sometimes even during lunch times when you weren’t with your friends. He wished you wouldn’t flirt so much, it was the worst part of your whole fan girl act. You’d compliment his hair, his spikes and his eyes often, it came out so naturally that it made him tense up and pause every time, trying to calm down the beating of his heart in his ears. Why couldn’t you just stick to fangirling over Oikawa? Kyotani could take you following him and talking about your day if it wasn’t for the flirting act. He even liked hearing about your day, it was cute to hear you ramble on until you decided to give him false hope with your remarks, sometimes even trying to hold his hand or rest your head on his shoulder.

~

It had been a few months now and you weren’t sure what to do. You were in a small cafe with your cousin Iwaizumi, opting to seek out the spiker for advice as a last resort.

“I don’t know Iwa, i’ve been flirting with him for months and coming to all your games to cheer him on and he doesn’t even look at me” you fiddling with your fork, huffing out dramatically.

“We’ll have you actually told him you like him or asked him to hang out?” you glared at his condescending tone

“I shouldn’t have to tell him! I don’t know how much more obvious i can get...plus i ask him to have lunch with me all the time” you sighed, feeling your heart sink. You’d thought that he didn’t like you, it was obvious at first that he found you irritating but overtime you thought he’d warm up. Maybe you were just being stupid, setting yourself up for heartbreak at your inevitable rejection. Still, you held on tight to the tiny bit of hope you still had.

“hey.” Iwa waved his hand in front of you, pulling you from your thoughts “I mean surely him ignoring you can’t get any worse if you actually confess right? Plus maybe i’m wrong and he does like you so you’ll actually make some progress” you hummed in agreement, though you were hesitant

“How am i supposed to confess though? He doesn’t even look at me when we talk, well, i talk..” you realised just how pathetic you sounded, how desperate. Was this how Oikawa’s fan girls felt? Ignorantly hopeful for someone who was out of reach? Well at least Oikawa spoke to his fan girls...

“Y/n...not to sound rude or anything, but why do you like this kid? He’s not exactly treating you very well..” you looked up at your cousin who was looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Well he may not seem like the sweet type but i’ve seen him when he’s alone, he’s really cute when he doesn’t look like he’s on the warpath, plus i think he’s just shy around me and doesn’t know how to act around others, he’s sweet though, he doodles in his notebooks. Also, he’s really passionate about volleyball! i remember the first time i saw him spike, he actually smiled!” you giggled at the memory, blushing at the thought of Kyo. 

“Whatever y/n, you need to confess before i do it for you.” you gasped in feign shock “You wouldn’t dare iwa-chan~” you laughed at Iwaizumi’s enraged expression “Stop hanging out with Oikawa ugh” you laughed at him, sipping on your hot chocolate you’d forgotten about. 

~

Kyotani had woken up earlier than usual, deciding to go for a walk. While he was walking his mind drifted back to you, looking behind him half expecting you to be there talking his ear off about random things, making him blush with your flirting. It was cruel how you could flirt with him so shamelessly and not mean it. He so badly wanted you to mean it. He grunted in frustration, picking up his pace until he was running, he was running past a few shops and cafes when he saw you. You were sitting by the window as the sun hit you, his eyes widened, you truly were so pretty to him. He almost stopped running until he saw who you were looking at, Iwaizumi was there. Of course you’d be on a date with him, he was so strong and open. You deserved someone like Iwaizumi he supposed, someone who could actually talk to you, someone who was better than him. He continued running despite feeling his own heart in his throat, making it harder to breathe. 

~

“I’m not writing him a letter Iwa.” you rolled your eyes at his suggestion, looking out the window to see a familiar head of blonde flash past in a blur. “Iwa! He just ran past” you stood up from your seat excitedly, smile crossing your face. “Wow you’re worse than i thought. Y/n, you’re a simp.” You weren’t even offended at his words “i mean can you blame me?” you sat back down, “Yes y/n, yes i can. You probably want to go after him right now” although he was joking he looked up to see you staring back at him hopefully. “Oh my god y/n, fine! Go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. “ You got up and hugged Iwa squeeling, “Thank you thank you, if i don’t come to school tomorrow i’m either crying about being rejected or on a date with my handsome boyfriend, bye!” “Do not skip school y/n!” Iwa yelled after you as you ran out of the cafe, heading down the same path Kyo took. 

As you passed by a park, you noticed Kyotani sitting under a tree, panting heavily. “Kyo!” You called out, smiling brightly as you made your way over to him, ignoring the frustrated frown on his face. “What” he gruffly replied, clearly annoyed but you were ecstatic to get a reply from him. “I actually wanted to tell you something!” It’s now or never you thought, this was a perfect time to do it, you were ready for either response, you waited for him to look up at you before continuing.

“Um, i haven’t really thought of what to say so i’m just going to say it, i like you. I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me? You don’t have to of course but i really wanted you to know” you played with your hands while you waited for him to say something, silence was not what you expected but- “are you serious right now?” he was angry?, you tilted your head to the side “of course, i’m surprised you didn’t already kn-” “What is wrong with you? First you follow me around everywhere, flirting with me and annoying the fuck out of me, now this? haven’t you played around enough? Honestly i didn’t think you’d take it this far, that’s just low y/n.” the tone in his voice was enough to have you back away a little, confusion covered your face, you definitely hadn’t anticipated this kind of response. Despite your heart sinking at the rejection, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry as well. Who was he to talk to you like that. “What the fuck are you talking about Kyo. A simple ‘Sorry i don’t feel the same’ would’ve sufficed, honestly this is the most you’ve ever said to me and it’s this?” He was taken back by your reaction. You were serious? “Why would you try confess to me while you were just on a date then huh?” you furrowed your brows in confusion before it dawned on you, he thought you were dating Iwaizumi. Now you understood more of what he was saying, you opened your mouth to speak but he interrupted you. “Yeah, I saw. You can drop the act now it was very funny. Now you can fucking leave me alone and stop acting like Oikawa’s clingy fangirls. I’ll finally stop having to hear you yapping in my fucking ear all day.” he wasn’t expecting to look up and see tears rolling down your cheeks. “Iwaizumi is my cousin..” you whispered meekly before turning back in the direction of the cafe, running home. 

Kyotani sat there dumbfounded. You were serious. He just called the girl he liked annoying and clingy after she tried to confess all because he was too insecure and jumped to conclusions. “Fucking idiot.” he cursed himself out under his breath.  

~

He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes he just saw that heartbroken look on your face, eyes filled with tears. Because of him. He groaned before going to his desk, he begun to write a letter. The thought of you never coming to his games anymore, you never cheering for him again, telling him about your day and that new show you start, even the flirting, he knew he couldn’t get through the day without it. You weren’t annoying, you were the only person who managed to make him stop scowling, he was relaxed around you.

You walked into your first class, finding a letter on your desk. Your eyes flitted over to Kyo who was sitting a few seats away looking away nervously, you could see how red he was from here. You tucked the letter into your bag, he didn’t deserve your attention and you were determined to not talk to him or look at him anymore. Kyotani watched you put away his letter, he frowned, you’d probably just read it later. He didn’t want to get discouraged so he waited for you during lunch but you never came. He was getting antsy, it was so quiet. After his final classes he was excited to go to practise, getting there on time for once, only you weren’t there. Instead he was met with an angry Iwaizumi “what the fuck did you do to her!” he boomed, gaining the attention of everyone in the gym. Kyotani looked down, surprising everyone “where is she?” he asked quietly, Iwaizumi quirked his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s probably at home or the cafe.” Kyotani looked up, running out of the gym ignoring Oikawa’s calls to come back and train.

You were sitting in a booth at the cafe, scrolling on your phone when you remembered the letter. You opened it despite your hesitation and began reading.

Y/n,

I used to find you irritating, i couldn’t understand why someone as pretty as you would follow me around and talk to me when i was so cold to you. I took your flirting as you either making fun of me or just you having a flirtatious personality so i would get annoyed. About yesterday, i misunderstood completely and i’m so sorry for snapping at you. I never meant to lash out on you and i never wanted to. I was fed up with the person i liked toying with me and when i found out you liked me back i didn’t believe you.

I’m sorry for hurting you, if you let me be yours i swear i’ll never hurt you again. I never want you to cry because of me ever again, i like you too y/n and i’m sorry i was too much of a pussy to tell you sooner.

I hope you forgive me

-Kyotani.

You smiled at the letter, looking up at the sound of the cafe bell ringing to see Kyotani, out of breath staring at you. You smiled up at him like usual and he returned it, moving towards you quickly. “Kyo-“ he cut you off, smashing his lips against yours, his lips were gentle despite the desperate hold he had on you, cradling your head in one hand and gripping your collar in the other. You smiled against the kiss, cupping his cheek before pulling away. “Hi” you giggled as he sat down in front of you, holding your hand on the table “Hi” he smirked at you. “Y/n, can i take you to dinner?” you nodded happily “of course you can handsome~” he blushed furiously and this time you got to see, you cupped his cheek again, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, only making it worse. “C’mon doll” he pulled you up, holding your hand as you exited the cafe, walking side by side as he intertwined your fingers, smiling down at you with a soft expression. How was he so blind?

[sugar-petals]

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️  all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋  byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋  lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this 

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh 

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋  kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out 

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good. 

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there? 

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋  wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war 

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time 

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋  mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons 

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear? 

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you. 

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋  ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times. 

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner. 

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place. 

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs. 

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋  lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start. 

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

[pumpkinpot]

MHA at a CON or FEST

Hi, so over the last couple day I have been going to the local Fan-con in my state and I was curious while there what some of the MHA characters would be like as panel or meet and greet guests and you as a vendor. 

Hawks- He is a fan favorite. For him I’d imagine the tickets to meet him would sell out almost immediately and if someone was lucky to catch one late, it would likely be from a peddler outside the stadium. He is so good with his fans very professional in his hero costume, taking pictures and signing things. (he kind of has to be.) As sort of a subliminal messaging thing, he’d keep some of your merch just strewn on his table, like it was just left there and would send feathers to you periodically throughout the day to let you know he’s thinking about you, or has some major tea about a crazed fan. You’ll know which depending on the frantic-ness of the delivery. 

Mirkou- She is so unashamed about her nerdiness. You cannot convince me you two don’t ren and, "women with swords" is her aesthetic. So don’t expect her in her hero costume. Not the one she actually works in at least. Her meet and greet costume is a modified knight-core version with chainmail and leather. She had a special bit of her armor etched with a little symbol of your two’s design. like a crest of your love... lol... nerds.... Preferably she can see your table from where she is, so she can point you out as her (royal title). “for I am their knight, and they are my Queen/King” is what she says all Stokely. Don’t expect to much professionalism from her, she’s too excited.  

Aizawa- How TF someone got him to do a meet and greet is beyond me, but he’s not happy about it. Its too loud, too crowded and he’s often asking himself why this big of an event is important to hero work and if its safe to have so many heroes in one place. (its a pretty big target.) But he’s amiable enough. He does it mostly because some of his students are there and so are you. At first he’s rather fitful, but when a little kid hands him a picture of a kitten drawn by them he softens. Its a complete coincidence he became the children's favorite. Parents wondering why their child chose a homely gremlin over Hawks. When he has any time free he’s watching you wow people with your own products just in awe of your passion, but behind that is a small excitement building for the epic sleep that yall are having tonight after such an involved day. 

Bakugou- You cannot convince me he isn’t into this. For a couple reasons. One he gets to show off a little bit. I feel like the Bakugou that would get big enough to have a meet and greet is not the “I’m better than everyone,” guy we’re used to, but he does like the idea of seeing what kinds of people flock to him. It’s def not what he expected. Book nerds, and introverts. If you’d have told him that was his fan base, he’d have laughed in your face, but now that he’s seeing it with his own eyes the pieces start to click. its very “every Hufflepuff needs a Slytherin” vibe. (though I don’t think Bakugou is a Slytherin, different post different time.) He actually begins to enjoy the time. Its not as loud as the other panels despite the doubled mass at his stand. When he has any time away from the greet table he’s with you, checking out the food truck district. of course their is a radius so he’s not swarmed, but he does tip the staff really really well.

Midoryia- Despite going to so many cons for Allmight stuff when faced with his own booth, and seeing his own fan art, Midoryia becomes very, very overwhelmed. This results in a lot of check ins with you and sloppy smiled pictures. It’s not that he tries to be awkward, but people constantly telling him how much they love him makes him wonder if he ever became so overbearing to his mentor. After a while you make some arrangements to move your booth into veiw of his and after that, his demeanor completely changes. Not having to stare at the art booth with only his face in various mediums staring back at him, but you with your passion sprawled out across a table and your friendly smile. It gives him courage to relax a little. Overall he’ll only do those kinds of events if you are there. If you’re not public with your relationship, how long will it take the public to realize you’re always so close?

Ochako- Baby girl is eating it up! Not because of the crowd per say, but because of the smiles. She’s had to use her quirk to save lives so many times, I could see her floating peoples hair and floating up to make funny faces behind people in photos. Her and some of the other hero's decided to get in on a corner of the meet and greets together so they can interact with fans together. (photobombing each others pics and such.) When she has the time she’ll sneak off to you with a churro in each hand with a social battery check in and a mandatory water check. If you’re feeling drained she’ll ask one of her assistants to watch your booth while she floats you both somewhere to watch the crowd from above.  

Mina- She is too hype for the occasion. Her and Ochako def got a space near each other. She goes above and beyond for her fans, decorating her whole booth in flower vines and twinkle lights. she did it for the gram for sure. She is great with her people and loves to ask them actual questions when they meet her. “how are you really babydoll?”, “tell me about your day.” and is the queen of complements. when she’s on break she’s with you hyping up your booth to anyone within hearing distance. “hey! have you all seen how amazing my love is?!” she def is out here to do the most in the best way.

Kirishima- Baby boy is nervous. He’ll never admit it if not forced, but he’s never been to an event like this, as a guest or greeter and the sheer magnitude of it all is.. daunting. It isn’t until he sits down and actually people watches the line of fans ready to meet him does he calm down. specifically a little boy with foam hands of his signature fist to fist in hardened mode. (Like the Thanos gauntlet you can buy at walmart) The kid was so excited to meet his favorite “shark” and it was that day that Kiri saw how far that comparison (him to a shark) actually went. He overall realizes his fan base is mostly made up of people like him. People who didn’t feel like they had the right bits in their bones to fit into society. He loved being that oddball for them. At lunch he sneaks away with you to eat junky foods hidden in an empty stage room or somewhere secluded. He’s got so many stories about so many cool people and keeps a copy of the pictures of his favorite fans for himself. to remind him why he does what he does. 

[randomshyperson]

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - The Fourth Year (Part I) - Chapter 04

Series Masterlist ||  Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Chapter Words:  9.832K

Authors note: In this one I start to explore more of the magical bond between reader and wanda, and well, it will be very much about that from this one on. I need to know if you all prefer longer (and more detailed) chapters about the reader's years at hogwarts like this one (which has been divided into three parts) or if you prefer the pace of the first three chapters (with only the relevant events of the whole year). Enjoy your reading.

//-// x //-// //-// x //-//

It's very different having Nebula and Gamora at home. 

You were used to having only Tony and Jarvis, and occasionally your father, but now that you have your friends sleeping in the next two rooms, you always have someone your own age to talk to and laugh about the same things.

It took a while for things to normalize, especially the first week. Thanos was furious about the letter that Gamora sent him, saying that they would live with you now. He showed up in the yard of your house the next day, and you have never seen your father so enraged.

They talked for many minutes, and then Thanos demanded to speak to his daughters. Nebula was trembling as she walked out the door, but your father stayed by their side during the entire conversation.

When they went back inside, Thanos left. Two days later, your father signed the adoption papers.

You were surprised when you discovered that Nebula was as passionate about magical mechanics as Tony, so it didn't take long for it to become commonplace for her to disappear into the basement of the house along with your brother, both of them wrapped up in some strange invention. You and Gamora usually spent most of your time in the backyard, she reading some Arithmanian stuff you didn't understand, while you played quidditch, or the two of you tended the garden. Mantis also came to visit you in the summer, and Groot was the size of a small dog now.

You exchanged many letters with Wanda during the vacations. And when Iron brought another one of them a little after dinner, on the antepenultimate week of vacation while you and Gamora were in your room talking about the coming year, she acquired a mischievous look on her face.

"What do you guys talk about so much?" She teased as you took the letter from Iron's beak. You shrugged, feeling your face heat up, and thought it better to look at the paper in your hands than Gamora's face.

“I don’t know,. Everything i think”. You answer.

Gamora is silent as you read the letter. You smile, because it is as if you hear Wanda's voice in the words you read. 

"Can I ask you something?" Gamora speaks next, you make a noise with the little one in agreement, without taking your eyes off the paper. "Have you ever kissed anyone?

"What?" you ask in surprise, raising your eyes to her. "N-no."

Gamora's arms are crossed and she's sitting on the bed, and she raises her eyebrow in disbelief.

"Is that so?" She asks and you swallow dryly, confirming. Her expression softens. "I'm only saying that because a lot of people start dating in third grade."

You close the letter in your hands, placing it on the shelf beside you. Ignoring how the subject makes your stomach flip with nervousness, you rest your hands on your knee.

"Do you think we'll start dating too?" You ask shyly, and Gamora smiles, shrugging.

"Who knows?" She retorts. "I never thought about that either. But I do know that Pietro kissed Monica on the mouth after our leave vacation inside a cabin on the Hogwarts express."

"Are you for real?" You asked in surprise. "How did you find out about that?"

"Quill wrote to me last night." She says. "I forgot to tell you."

"Wow." You say. 

"Yeah." She agrees. "Peter told me that Pietro turned red as a tomato, but kept smiling. I thought Wanda would tell you that."

You bit your tongue to avoid mentioning that you and Wanda don't talk about such things, and cleared your throat before shrugging.

"Maybe Pietro didn't say anything to her." You say. "I probably won't tell Tony when I have my first kiss."

"You're probably right." Gamora said casually. "But you're going to tell me, right? When you kiss someone, you need to tell me how to do it."

You laughed, walking over to Gamora.

"I promise I will." You say extending your pinky to her. She looks at you confused, "It's a pinky promise, haven't you ever sworn like that?"

"That's muggles' stuff." She comments with a smile, and you laugh.

"Yeah, my dad probably learned it from my mom." You say using your other hand to take Gamora's hand. "Come on, you put your finger like this, and then we swear."

Gamora laughed as she followed your commands, and then you repeated the promise. After you yawned, she bade you goodnight and went to her room.

You fought the urge to reread Wanda's letter, and threw yourself on the bed, not understanding why your brain was replaying Gamora's questions in your mind and you kept thinking of Wanda afterwards.

//-//

The Quidditch World Cup is happening this year, and you can hardly contain yourself with excitement.

You had been to the event a few times when you were younger, but now that you actually played quidditch it was a very different feeling.

Your favorite team was the Guardians of the Galaxy, who had played for England for many years, and were also your father's favorite team. Tony stopped liking them the first year, saying that they were losing too many games, but you knew it was because Steve Rogers was rooting for the Brooklyn Soldiers team and Tony was trying to impress him.

All your friends will be at the event, including many thousands of other witches from all over the world. 

You have to wake up at dawn in order not to miss the time of the portal keys that have been scattered around the country by the Ministry of Magic, to prevent wizards from being seen disappearing into inappropriate places that could expose the magical world.

When you came down to the kitchen, everyone was already having breakfast. Your father kissed your forehead as he walked past you, a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

"Finally awake, sleepyhead." Teased Tony when he saw you, you just yawned. 

"Are we leaving already?" You asked sleepily, grabbing some toast.

"Yes, dear." Her father replied looking at his watch. "Get ready soon, or we'll miss the schedule."

You grumble in agreement, hurrying to get back to your room and take a shower. 

When you are ready, and stretching as you walk to the outside of the house, Gamora joins you, a backpack on her back resembling yours.

"I can't wait to see the foreign wizards." She comments excitedly making you smile. Gamora didn't like the sport, and was far more excited to see the witches from the rest of the world than to watch the match.

"I bet there's going to be some Ilvermorny people's stall." You say as you catch up with your father, who was waiting next to Tony and Nebula. Jarvis waves goodbye to you from the doorway, and you begin walking toward the trail beyond the mansion grounds. "They are so show-offy."

Gamora laughs.

"I've never met anyone from the United States." She counters. "But some witches from Japan have been to my house."

You know that the mention of home or Thanos makes Gamora very uncomfortable, so you try to skirt around the subject.

"I guess Nurse Cho was from Mahoutokoro, huh?" You comment, and Gamora shrugs. "Thor had mentioned that during a class, I think."

"I wonder if the other schools are cool like Hogwarts?" She asks, and you smile.

"No place is like Hogwarts."

Gamora laughs, but agrees. You walk in silence for a few more minutes, and it is only when you reach an empty area that you stop.

"Here we are, people." Your father says next, slightly tired from the exercise. He waves for everyone to form a circle as he checks his watch. "Two minutes to go, children. Stand in position please."

There is a small cloth boot in the center of the circle, and you are not the least bit surprised because you know that portal keys are usually the most mundane things you can think of.

You all reach down and touch the boot with your fingertips. You smile at Tony who looks up at you. Two minutes later, you feel a tug, and everything spins around you. Taking a deep breath, you focus on controlling yourself as you are falling into the portal key. And then you land on the ground.

"Here we are." Your father says smiling beside you. You look to the side to see Gamora helping Nebula to stand up properly, as she had remarked that she gets a little queasy with this kind of magic. Tony throws an arm around your shoulders next.

"Ready to see the guardians lose, kid?" He teases causing you to let out a humorless laugh.

"You wish." You grumble pushing Tony lightly, who lets go as he laughs.

And then you start walking again, until you come to a place considerably noisier than where you were before.

The ministry seemed to have bypassed an area with low chains, and you notice the magical aura around the metal, signaling that everything was magically hidden.

There is a wizard in uniform at the entrance, and he collects the tickets before letting you pass into the hut area. 

There are many tents of the most varied characteristics. You laugh in surprise when your gaze catches a conjuration exactly like a vacation castle, but much smaller in size. As you walk through the crowd, your father asks everyone to hold hands so as not to get lost as he guides you to the area where you would be staying.

Your father has rented a tent in a more private area of the place, and there are hardly any witches where you are. You like the silence, but you miss how much more fun the other place seems.

"The Rogers and the Barnes should be here by now I imagine." Your father comments as he waves his wand to open the cabin. You enter the room next, it is like a small winter home inside, very cozy.

"Yes, dad." Tony replies throwing his backpack on one of the couches. "I wrote Steve last night."

Howard grumbles in agreement, walking to the kitchen. You place your backpack on the floor next.

"Daddy, can I go look for Wanda and Pietro?" You ask and your father laughs, denying it.

"You didn't eat anything before you left, honey." He says turning around. "Eat something and then you can go look for them."

You grumble, but agree. While you are making some eggs, Steve's family arrives.

"Howard, you outdo yourself every year, my friend." Joseph Rogers comments as he enters the cabin. Your father smiles cheerfully as he hugs him in greeting, then greets Sarah, Steve's mother, with a kiss on the cheek. He ruffles Steve's hair and pats his arm, repeating the same gesture to Bucky, who follows behind.

" Is your father not here, James?" Howard asks next, and Bucky clears his throat.

"No, sir." He replies. "Since my sisters can't come, he took them to a music event in the muggle world. If you want my opinion, rock concerts are as cool as quidditch."

The comment makes Howard laugh in agreement, but Steve's family doesn't seem to understand very well.

Soon they were all around the room, talking animatedly about the most varied subjects. You exchanged a complicit look with Gamora and Nebula, and you took advantage of your father being involved in a conversation with Joseph to leave the cabin.

"Do you have any idea where Professor Lehnsherr has placed the tents?" Gamora asks you once you are outside and you look around.

"No." You reply. "Wanda just wrote that she and Pietro were going to be here too, but I don't even know if it's Magneto that's bringing them."

"We're just left to look then." Nebula concludes and you nod in agreement, starting to walk.

You walk back to the common tent area, looking around.

Gamora and Nebula are easily distracted by the amount of interesting things to see, and almost lose track of you when some witches from the Salem Institute hand them some exchange pamphlets. 

It is only at the food stall that you finally find who you were looking for.

"My god, is that...?" You hear Gamora exclaim next to you in surprise. You know she was talking about Professor Lehnsherr, who is wearing jeans and a T-shirt and sunglasses and looks very well, and has a completely different posture than he usually has in class, but you are not looking at him anymore. 

Your stomach is restless because you are looking at Wanda, wearing a black skirt with knee socks and boots, and a red jacket. She looks beautiful, and you are blushing.

Gamora waves to them from a distance, and it is Pietro who notices you guys first, waving back cheerfully while nudging Wanda on the shoulder. She blinks in confusion and then smiles when she sees you.

You think your legs have turned to jelly, but you continue walking toward her. 

"It's so good to see you girls" Pietro exclaims happily as he hugs Gamora. 

"Hi, Wanda." You greet with a half-hearted smile, but Wanda's face lights up and she jumps at you, hugging you tight, and making your heart soar. "It's good to see you too." You whisper humorously against her hair, and Wanda releases you with a reddened face, smiling widely.

"I missed you." She says to you shyly making you look away clumsily, but before you can add anything else, Pietro is greeting you as well, and Wanda does the same with your sisters.

"Hello everyone." Said a male voice next, and you stared at Professor Erik awkwardly. He didn't seem bothered by being approached by any of you, however, a hot dog in his hands. 

"Hello, Professor Lehnsherr." You and your sisters said in unison, but the man had an almost friendly expression. 

"Don't worry about being formal while we're here, girls." He says. "We're just sorcerers in here, looking for a little cheap entertainment."

You and Gamora exchange a look, not knowing exactly what to say next. Professor Erik sighs, and then looks at his children.

"You can go spend some time with the Starks, twins." He says making his kids let out excited exclamations. "Be back by the start time of the match, please. I don't want to lose sight of you in a place with so many people of unreliable origin."

You don't quite understand what "unreliable origin" means, but you don't question it, excited to spend some time with the Maximoffs.

After Erik gives them a few galleons to buy whatever snacks they want, you walk back to the cabin.

//-//

You spent the whole afternoon with all your friends in the cabin, playing magical games, practicing simple spells, and trying to guess the outcome of the match. When the first warning alarm sounded, you all let out a chorus of excitement.

You ran to your room, looking for the cheerleader accessories you had obtained, while ignoring the teasing Tony was throwing at you about the opponent team's sure victory.

He and the Rogers were all wearing blue and white scarves, bracelets and hats, which represented the colors of the Brooklyn Soldiers.

Your father was wearing a big red jacket with the symbol of a gold star, the team's mark. You gave him one of the buttons you brought.

Pietro was also rooting for the Soldiers, along with Nebula and Bucky, so you didn't try to lend any of your accessories to them.

Wanda was in the room when you put a blue scarf with gold accents around her neck.

"For you to support the team." You commented excitedly, without any idea that Wanda's flushed face was because the scarf smelled like you.

"Thanks." She said shyly, and you just nodded, holding some bottons on her shirt.

Gamora borrowed one of the hats you brought.

When you walked towards the stadium area, all the other spectators were leaving their tents and tents and going in the same direction, so the crowd was even bigger. You did your best not to get lost.

Once inside the iron structure, you felt someone nudge your shoulder.

"Pietro and I need to find Dad." Wanda said and you waved, but then frowned, nodding back.

"I think he found you first." You comment while watching Erik look at you as he enters the same iron corridor. He looks at your family and friends next for a moment, his expression serious. "See you after the game, right?"

"Of course." Wanda smiles before touching your arm lightly. You still feel the touch many moments later.

//-//

The match is absolutely incredible. It is even better because the guardians win with a remarkable difference when catcher Jean Gray captures the Snitch after the second half, the stadium vibrating in celebration.

It's a complete mess after that. There are fireworks, and a lot of noise. Even though they lost the match, all the Brooklyn Soldiers fans are so impressed with the incredible match that they join the celebrations.

You stumble out of the stadium between laughter, Gamora's arm around your shoulders as she laughs at the dance that your father and Joseph are doing on the way back.

Fans of the Guardians continued to light the celebratory fireworks, and there was a huge fireworks scarlet dragon streaking through the skies above your heads.

Your dad and the Rogers family go back to the cabin while you stay outside with Bucky and your friends, wanting to enjoy the rest of the fireworks display. You also want to see Wanda again.

"The Guardians are very excited, aren't they?" Bucky comments with a laugh, noticing an increase in the volume of the crowd's screams. You laugh and you look at the sky again.

When you blink, there is an explosion noise in the distance, so muffled by the other sounds that it makes you confused. Your friends don't seem to have heard, and you step forward, watching the crowd closely.

You see a lot of people laughing, and dancing, and it takes a minute for you to also notice those who are running.

"Guys." You call in confusion, and Gamora who was closest to you turns around with curiosity. "I think there is something wrong."

Another explosion occurs and this time everyone listens. The crowd in front seems to gradually realize that there is something wrong going on. And then the firework dragon in the sky is fading, considerably dimming the lighting.

Your father came out of the hut the next moment, a concerned look on his face, and the wand in his hands.

You feel a panic rising in the pit of your stomach when people start running and screaming, and you notice spells being cast from a distance. You were thinking it might be some kind of cheering team fight, but the possibility is completely ruled out when you notice the masked men in the crowd.

"Get your things now." Order your father out loud and then you are all moving back to the cabin, picking up all your belongings quickly. You hold the backpack tightly against your shoulders when you go out again, complete chaos around you. Your father, Joseph and Sarah lead you among the people, shouting that you need to get back to the portkey. You gasp in surprise when you feel a twinge behind your eyes, and you are struck by a vision of a forest. This little delay is enough to make you stay behind and lose sight of your family.

But you are not looking for them anyway. Your feet are spinning in the opposite position, and you are pushing people to run. You need to find Wanda.

//-//

You end up at the end of the camp, the tents far behind you. The sound of confusion drowned out by the distance. Feeling a new stab of pain in the head, your knees give way and your body lowers, while you raise your hands to your face, immediately being hit by a vision. This time you see a shadow of a tall figure, perhaps a man, standing in front of you. There is a metallic taste of blood in your mouth, and you want to get away, but there is something holding you back. When you blink, you're back the end of the camp.

You don't understand what's going on, and there is a feeling of hopelessness and helplessness in your chest, but you keep walking, crossing the magical chain and moving into the forest. You fall to the ground on your knees a moment later, intense pain all over your body. Gasping, you look up, only to see a green light form in the sky.

At first you thought it might be fireworks, but it was magic. The symbol of a hydra conjured in the clouds was beginning to move, and your entire body weighed.

You looked down, and your eyes caught a figure in the woods. It was a man, but he was too far away and you couldn't see his face. He had his wand raised to the sky, clearly being responsible for conjuring it up. Your head started to spin in pain, and you rested your hands on the ground to try to normalize your breathing, and then the man looked at you.

You felt your heart race when he started walking towards you, but then there were screams and footsteps, and he ran. A moment later, your father was kneeling beside you.

"Darling! Are you okay?" He asked worriedly raising his hands to your face looking for bruises. You sighed, still in pain. Only when the aurors of the ministry of magic raised their wands to the sky and made the mark disappear,  you feel your body relieve immediately.

"I saw a man." You confessed breathlessly, and your father looked at you with confusion. But the wizards of the ministries seemed quite interested.

"Where, child?" Asked one of the aurors, you gasped slightly, feeling your body tremble a little.

"He went in that direction." You say pointing. "He was the one who conjured."

The woman nodded in understanding, and left after whistling for the rest of the Aurors to follow her. Your father helped you to stand.

"Honey, listen to me carefully." He said in a mixture of concern and seriousness. "Don't tell anyone about this."

“What, daddy? I don't.."

"Honey, please." He interrupts by stroking your cheeks with his thumb. “I will explain everything to you, I promise. But this needs to stay between us. You can't tell anyone what you saw in the sky.”

You swallow dry, but agree. Your dad doesn't let go of your hand all the way back to the portkey, and when you rejoin your friends again, you lie and say you just got lost in the food stall area after he gives a little grip on your fingers.

//-//

Your father doesn't explain anything to you.

When you return home, he receives urgent howlers from the ministry, and then he returns to the ministry of magic.

You are walking around the kitchen, outraged that you were prevented from looking for Wanda on your way out of the stadium and you have no idea if she is okay.

"What if the Maximoffs have a phone?" You grumble to yourself, but then you remember that you don't even have the number. You press your hands to your face, trying to calm yourself down. Wanda was fine. She had to be.

Gamora and Nebula are sitting on the couch, discussing something with each other, looking concerned. Tony locked himself in the room after Howard refused to tell him what was going on.

You don't understand why you have this horrible feeling in your chest, and you can't stop wondering if Wanda is okay, and then you support your hands on the table, trying to normalize your breathing and stop yourself from crying.

"Hey, breathe." You are almost startled by the voice at your side. Gamora touches your back tenderly, and you shake your head, feeling the tears flow. "She's fine, you need to breathe."

"You don't know that." You snap out of breath, and then Gamora puts her hand on your shoulder, asking you to look at her.

“We met Erik on the way out while you got lost. They left before you came back. ” She tells and you blink confused. “Wanda is safe. Breathe."

You gasp, and then your body relaxes as if a weight has been lifted off your back. Gamora looks at you with a mixture of concern and confusion, but you sigh, hugging her in appreciation.

"Thank you." You whisper against her hair. "I should have asked."

When you let go, she still looks at you with concern.

"Yeah, I know." She says assessing her face. "You should have asked how anyone else would do it."

You frown, not understanding what she is saying. But she still looks at you, suspicious.

“It looks like you were barely listening to us when your dad brought you back. And then I find you like that, and one word is enough to get you back to normal. ”

"What do you mean, Gamora?"

"I'm worried about you." She says. "I don't know what it is, but there is something strange about the way Wanda affects you."

You change the weight of your feet, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's talking about you not being able to bewitch Wanda." Nebula adds by getting up and walking over to you. You blink confused, ready to say that story was too old, but the girl is not intimidated. "She's talking about the way you behave around her."

"I don `t…"

"It's not just about liking someone." Nebula interrupts and you feel your cheeks heat up. "Gamora thought it was because you are in love, but that seems like something else."

Something in your stomach falls. You gasp in surprise.

"I'm not i-in love!" You exclaim with a racing heart. "I'm not…"

Gamora sighs impatiently, messing with hair. And trying to calm you down, she puts her hands on your shoulders next.

"Listen to me, okay?" She asks. "There's something weird about the way you care about Wanda. We don't know what it is, but you need to admit that you can see that too."

Facing your friend back, it takes a moment while you think of your words, for you to speak again.

"I saw a mark in the sky." You confess, deciding to disobey your father. Gamora blinks in confusion, and you clear your throat before you clear up everything that happened. Her hands fall off your shoulders when she opens her eyes wide for your confessions.

"Are you sure it was a hydra?" Nebula asks seriously and you wave.

"Do you know what that means?" You ask, and the girls exchange a look, but before they say it, you hear another voice.

"It is the Mephisto mark."

You get scared of Tony coming down the stairs, his gaze on you as he walks over to where you are. He folds his arms when he reaches you.

"Which means death walkers are back."

"Tony ..."

"You said you saw a wizard." He interrupts seriously. "Do you have any idea who it is?"

"No." You embarrassingly deny it, feeling your stomach sink with the look Tony is giving you. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are the one who's been weird." He replies. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on."

"What did you mean by that?"

"What did you see in your head?" He counters with another question and you start to get angry at the way he is behaving, but tell him anyway. Tony sighs impatiently, turning in the opposite direction. He circles the room for a few moments before speaking again. “Daddy is never going to let us get involved in this. Especially now that you are having visions in your head. ”

"I still haven't told him about it." You grumble and Tony looks at you in surprise.

"Then don't say anything."

"What?" You exclaim with a frown in confusion. "What you mean? I need to say. I have to find out what it is. ”

Tony laughed incredulously.

"You still don't get it, do you?" he retorted. "Dad won't tell us anything. He didn't tell us about being an Auror, or about being friends with Professor Lehnsherr. He didn't even bother to try to understand why you can't bewitch Wanda!" Tony squirms angrily, and you shrink your body to the pitch of his voice. But he sighs, running his hands through his hair, and softening his expression. "I'm sorry, I'm not angry with you. It's just... I don't like being lied to."

You looked away, feeling tired. All this talk was making your head hurt, and the previous events had affected you more than you would like to admit.

"I don't know what we can do about this." You say. "I don't understand what's going on, and Dad would be the first person I would ask something, but he's not willing to help us. I feel like I'm at a dead end."

Tony lifts his arm to your shoulder, trying to reassure you.

"Hey, don't be so concerned about it." He says. "I'll find out what I can, and well, we're going back to Hogwarts next week. You and Wanda can try to figure out what this connection is about, while I try to figure out what's going on at the ministry."

You nod in agreement and Tony smiles, hugging you briefly. You hope that despite everything, you will have a quiet year at Hogwarts.

//-//

The Maximoffs are not on board the Hogwarts express.

You are in the same cabin as your friends, squeezed in because not everyone can fit in there, and you take several turns with Peter and Darcy in turn to sit down, while you are spread out in the corridor. 

"No sign of Wanda, huh?" Gamora asked as she saw you looking around the hallway for the tenth time while you were standing outside the cabin, listening to Mantis tell you about her summer from inside.

"No." You reply. "I talked to her Slytherin colleagues, but none of them were very happy to tell me anything. Wanda didn't say anything in her last letter."

"Maybe she will arrive in a flying car, I hear they are popular." She jokes, making you laugh briefly. You can't ignore the nervous feeling in your stomach, and you sigh. Gamora places her hands on your shoulders. "Let's find something to distract you, okay? How about some explosive snap?"

//-//

Laughing at Quill's joke about the last statement in the Daily Prophet, as you walked off the train with the rest of your friends toward the castle.

A chorus of excitement coming from some students ahead of you caught your and your friends' attention, who looked in the direction curiously.

"Is that a ship?" You heard someone ask as they pointed in the direction of the lake.

There was a large old ship, right in the center, coming toward the castle. Everyone looked on excitedly.

"Students, please continue toward the castle!" Drax loudly commanded the crowd, and the students exchanged nervous whispers, all extremely curious to know who was coming to the castle. You swapped a glance with Gamora before following the crowd.

//-//

Already seated at the Hufflepuff table, you startled slightly when Mantis touched your hand.

"Calm down, you're making it snow." She asked gently. You shook your head, realizing the cloud you had accidentally conjured up above you. You had been so nervous the last few minutes, which only got worse when your gaze failed to find Wanda at the Slytherin table, and to no avail was the look of reassurance Gamora threw at you when she said she would ask her colleagues about her over dinner. As soon as you sat down at the Hufflepuff table, you played with your wand between your fingers, and before you knew it, it was snowing.

"Sorry about that." You mumble clumsily, putting your wand back away. Mantis is not angry, her look is one of concern.

"I'm sure everything is fine with Wanda." Mantis says to you, and you sigh, running your hand through your hair.

"I think so too." You say. "I just don't know why I can't stop thinking about it."

"Y/N..."

You lost your attention completely on Mantis as your gaze reached the door of the hall just as you noticed the figures entering. Wanda and Pietro, walking hurriedly to the Slytherin table, being two of the last students to enter the hall before the door closed. You made mention of getting up, but Mantis held you by the shoulders. 

You were about to complain, but she pointed in the direction of the teachers' table, and you rolled your eyes, because the welcoming speech was about to begin. Your gaze remained on Wanda, but she was looking straight ahead. The only good thing was that the feeling of worry in you diminished considerably now that you were seeing her.

"[...] and I am proud to tell you that a very special event will take place at Hogwarts this year: the Triwizard Tournament!"

You are startled slightly when Headmistress Harkness' words reach your ears at the same moment that the main hall explodes in hubbub. You lose sight of Wanda because people are moving excitedly, and Mantis is nudging you to look forward.

It is only now that you notice the large stone globet and the blue flame displayed in front of the bench. You blink in surprise, feeling your face flush because you spent all the minutes of the speech staring at Wanda without realizing it.

Then the principal speaks again.

"Of course, the ministry has determined rules for the safety of the students." She recounts. "No student under the age of seventeen will be allowed to participate in the tournament, in addition to the dueling rules..."

The principal's speech was drowned out by the chorus of protests from the younger students, especially those in the fifth and sixth grades. You raised your eyebrow slightly, because you noticed that your brother was one of the boys who was shouting in annoyance. 

Agatha then made a stern expression, clearly annoyed at having been interrupted, and it took only a few moments for the hall to become completely silent, and for her to smile again.

"Note that the other participating schools will be staying with us this year." She continues her speech. "Please welcome the students from Durmstrang Institute."

The doors to the main hall opened again, and a small crowd of students wearing thick winter coats entered. A tall, shabby-looking man with a scar over his right eye was at the front, guiding the students.

"Agatha!" Greeted the man with open arms as he reached the headmistress. Agatha smiled as she hugged him, and you tried to get a look at the new folks, as did the rest of the school, who were looking excitedly at the crowd. You let out a surprised exclamation when you recognized one of the faces. Your classmates also seemed to realize who it was, because many whistles and comments were heard. 

"That's Jean Grey, isn't it?" Peter Parker asked sitting next to you. When you confirmed it, he widened his eyes. "Wow, I didn't know she was still in school."

"She's the youngest catcher of the century, Parker." You commented with a smile. 

"She's very pretty, isn't she?" He retorted, and you made a noise of agreement.

The students reached the front of the hall next.

"It's good to have you here, Yondu." Said the headmistress. "How was the trip?"

"Wet and noisy, woman!" Rebutted the man humorously. He didn't seem too excited to greet any other teachers, focused only on the woman in front of him. Agatha looked at the students next.

"Please feel free to join any of the empty seats, all the houses were honored to accommodate you." She warned the students, but they only moved after Yondu waved lightly at them.

You bit the inside of your cheek, noting that almost everyone sat down at the Slytherin table. Yondu joined the students next, not failing to take a good look at the goblet before sitting down.

Agatha looked down the hall again.

"Let us also welcome our honored guests from Beauxbatons."

The students at Beauxbatons' institute seemed nicer the first moment you saw them, but as soon as you noticed the way their cloaks were bewitched to land gracefully on the floor as they moved, you figured they must be the kind of people who wouldn't be happy with Hogwarts' cleaning schedule.

The principal of Beauxbatons was a tall, stout woman, very beautiful. She had a crown on her head, and you wondered if the people of Beauxbatons were royalty in some way. 

"Ovette, it is an honor to have you with us." She greeted Principal Agatha, but unlike before, her smile was cold, almost fake. The other woman didn't seem happy to be there either, but returned the greeting in the same formality.

The Beauxbatons students sat down at Gryffindor's table, and you giggled when Quill grimaced at you from his table as one of the boys sat down next to him.

Suddenly you felt very hungry. And dinner didn't disappoint. 

"I think you'd better wait to talk to Wanda tomorrow," Mantis remarked next to you as soon as you finished eating. You frowned, looking at her.

"Why?"

"Professor Lehnsherr has been staring at the Slytherin table like he's going to cast a good behavior spell at them the entire dinner." She counters as she looks at the teachers' table. You look just in time to catch Erik with a stern look toward the students who were talking loudly on the end before he went back to eating his potato salad. 

"Maybe he just expects better behavior while we have guests here." You comments, glancing back to the Slytherin table. Wanda's gaze has not searched for yours all dinner, and you are starting to get annoyed by this.

"If you're going to risk it, I suggest you do it before curfew." Mantis quips as she looks down at her own lap. Groot is trying to steal her piece of chicken, and she smiles as she hands him a loaf of bread.

You look around. All the students are sitting at their respective house tables, and despite the loud buzz of conversation, no one is standing. You know that if you stood up, and walked to the other side of the room, everyone would look at you. Sighing in annoyance, you rest your face on your hand and your elbow on the table, giving up on talking to Wanda during dinner.

When dessert arrives, you become distracted.

//-//

Your best idea is to catch up with Wanda at the end of dinner, but you frown when she doesn't get up from the table along with the other students. The next moment, Professor Erik is joining her, and the crowd of Hufflepuff students pushing you out makes you lose sight of her.

You mumble softly to yourself when you have to go back to the dormitory, and Mantis gives you a short smile, equally annoyed by your nervousness.

//=//

You tried to sleep. Maybe at some point you did.

After you went back to the dorm with everyone else, put on your pajamas and turned off the lights, you think you fell asleep almost immediately. But there was no rest.

The minute you fell asleep, you were somewhere else, fully conscious.

It looked like a graveyard, and there was a lot of smog. You turned over, feeling breathless, and saw a red light, maybe it was a spell. The next moment you woke up, panting, opening your eyes and immediately sitting up in bed. Surprised at the amount of sweat on your shirt, you frowned.

The dormitory was completely dark, and everyone was sleeping around you. You felt thirsty, and as you tried to understand exactly what you had dreamed, you left the room.

The rest of the common room was also empty, and you sighed as an idea crossed your mind. Biting your lips, you shook your head. No, you were not going to sneak through the dormitory into the Slytherin hall, because that was absolutely against all the rules, and more importantly, it would be weird.

Ignoring the sudden urgency you felt to follow your idea, you forced yourself back to your dormitory, hoping that you would be able to sleep again.

//-//

The next day, you had no need to look for Wanda, because she found you first.

As soon as you left for breakfast, accompanied by Mantis, you gasped in surprise as you felt some jump on you just before the entrance to the main hall.

"I missed you." Wanda sighed as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Some students looked at you curiously, but you didn't mind, circling Wanda's waist to return the hug. 

"I missed you too." You retorted by hiding your face in her neck, feeling your whole body relax with the scent of her perfume.

But a sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment, and Wanda turned away from you, her cheeks flushed.

"You saw each other last week." Pietro teased with a slight frown on his forehead. He didn't press the matter, however, greeting you afterwards.

You made your way to the Slytherin table, your newly awakened friends looking sleepy as they lazily enjoyed their breakfast.

After greeting everyone, you sat down next to Gamora, who was looking at the daily prophet.

"Not a word about what happened in the Quidditch world cup" She commented indignantly. The group shared the same reaction. "All the news is about the triwizard tournament being held at Hogwarts."

"Maybe they don't want to cause a panic." Quill then reasoned. You knew that he, as well as Mantis, only knew about what happened in the cup because of the letters you and Gamora sent. 

"It just seems like they are hiding the truth." Gamora retorts without taking her gaze off the paper. You glance at the figures moving around before turning your attention back to your coffee.

"Clearly corrupt wizarding ministry matters aside, is anyone here going to try to sign up for the tournament?" Quill asked next, causing you to frown as Nebula and Gamora gave a giggle.

"No one here is of age." You comment with confusion, but Quill gives a wry chuckle.

"You Hufflepuff people are adorable." He teases making you laugh. He stretches his arms out to Pietro and Monica's shoulders next as he is sitting between them. "My Gryffindor buddies have found the perfect solution to solve this problem."

You look at the three of them curiously. Gamora rolls her eyes, and turns her attention back to the cereal.

"Let me guess, aging potion?" Nebula then suggests, and Quill lets out an impressed exclamation.

"Look at you Nebula, who would have guessed?  I'll make a troublemaker out of you yet." He jokes, but Nebula just raises her middle finger at him, making the rest of the table laugh.

You are slightly distracted because Wanda asked you to pass the jelly to her and your fingers brushed against each other, and you had to keep it together, unaware because the sensation spread a tingle across your skin, so you are startled when Quill lets out an excited exclamation next.

"I just remembered!" He says. "I didn't complain enough about the cancellation of the Quidditch cup between the houses. I was sure Gryffindor would win this year."

Wanda lets out a wry chuckle, and Quill makes a mocking face at her, tossing a piece of bread in her direction. 

You like to see your friends like that, playing with each other. The next moment, Mantis asks how Quill intends to get past the goblet spells to put his name on it, and the boy spends the next few minutes arguing that the aging spell is enough to break the enchantment, and your friends seem happy to argue with him about it.

//-//

You're not sure how you're going to tell Wanda that you need to talk to her about the events of the vacations, and the cup, and well, your connection to her, so you ignore the suggestive look Gamora throws at you after coffee and decide to put it off for as long as you can.

Your classes seem to have gotten even harder and more boring, but you struggle. It's even trickier to pay attention when the whole school is excited about the triwizard tournament, and there' a lot of noise between and during the classes, after a while, the teachers give up on calming the moods.

Without Quidditch, you have free periods, and you use this time to spend with your friends, either playing witch chess or explosive snap, or even getting some practice with your broom.

The foreign students get more comfortable as time goes on. You would think that they would be sleeping in one of the dormitories, but they are staying on the ships and in the carriages that they have come on.

The only times you got a glimpse of Beauxbatons' carriages was on the way to the class on the Tract of Magical Creatures, and you weren't the only one trying to get a better look, but the guardian Drax was quick to scare off any curious people who got too close.

With three weeks of classes, the atmosphere at Hogwarts had changed a lot. You knew it was because the date for choosing champions was approaching, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath about it. 

Pietro and Quill actually proceeded with the idea of trying to fool the goblet with an aging potion. You and the girls joined them in the room where the magic object had been placed, and witnessed them try. And fail miserably. Wanda was worried that Pietro had been hurt when he was thrown across the room trying to get through the protective circle, but as soon as she saw his aged face, she laughed, and all the girls followed her.

Pietro and Quill were annoyed for three seconds before they began to laugh as well.

You fell silent the next moment, however, because Jean Grey entered the room accompanied by Headmaster Youndu, both of whom looked at you all reproachfully.

Jean placed a piece of parchment in the flame, and you all watched with some admiration as the goblet accepted her inscription.

The small admiring smile you had on your lip completely disappeared when Jean looked at Wanda on her way out, her gaze flashing in a way that made your stomach turn the wrong way.

When Pietro started talking about how amazing it was to have a famous player at school, you didn't feel excited about the idea anymore.

//-//

After your double period of potions on Thursday the last week of September, you could practically catch the anxious tension of your classmates in the air.

At dinner that night, the school champions would be chosen and even you, who were more concerned about the lack of news from home and the way Tony was clearly avoiding your presence, were curious to know who would be chosen.

The Goblet of Fire had been moved to the center of the main hall and you joined the Hufflepuff table with Mantis, noticing the warning look that Headmistress Okoye cast at anyone who was not behaving in the most chivalrous manner possible, but you didn't remark on it, noticing the wizards wearing formal attire at the teachers' table, probably being employees of the Ministry of Magic and reporters for the Daily Prophet.

A characteristic buzz was going on among the students, but the room fell silent as the students from the other schools entered the hall together with their principals.

When Headmistress Agatha began the selection ceremony, everyone seemed to hold their breath.

"[...] Tonight the goblet will choose the one who is worthy to represent their schools in the triwizard tournament. The ceremony of choice begins now." She gracefully presents, wand in hand. Agatha touches the tip of the goblet next, and the flame on the top changes to red briefly, expelling a piece of parchment through the air. Agatha catches the item between her fingers. "The champion of Durmstrang is Jean Grey."

The room erupts in applause and tears of celebration. You clap happily too, completely forgetting about that day in the hall. You knew that Jean had become quite popular among the Hogwarts gossips, especially since she is already a celebrity, so the reaction of your classmates was not a surprise to you.

You and the rest of the students watched as she accepted the parchment from Agatha before greeting the ministry wizards, and then walked into the small door behind the teachers' desk. As she left, everyone was silent again.

Principal Harkness repeated the wand movement on the goblet, and the flames turned blue again. She paused briefly before announcing the next champion.

"Beauxbatons' champion is Maria Hill!" 

You watch a very elegant girl get up from one of the front seats and walk in the same direction as Jean amidst the applause. The commotion is a little less than Grey's, but you know that it is only because Grey was famous.

A moment later it is the turn of the Hogwarts champion, and you are much more excited for this.

Agatha also seems more excited about this, a small smile escaping her lips before she repeats the wand movement.

When the parchment falls into her hands, she reads it aloud.

"The champion of Hogwarts..." She begins and her expression falls, her frown frowning. The brief suspense only makes everyone even more anxious. "Wanda Maximoff."

The crowd's reaction is remarkably different from the other champions; the hall explodes into a buzz of accusations of cheating, pointing out that Wanda was underage, and even snide remarks about a Slytherin representing the school, but you were barely listening. A wave of preoccupation takes over your body completely, and you look around the table for Wanda, but she is already standing up, her chin held high despite all the negative comments. She accepts the parchment Agatha hands her and heads in the same direction as the other champions. 

Harkness makes another movement with her wand and the flame from the goblet goes out. In the next second she is leaving the room, being escorted by the other directors and the ministry officials to the Hall of Champions. As soon as the door closes, the hall explodes in agitated hubbub, and many people stand up.

As the teachers call for calm, especially for the Gryffindor students who accuse the Slytherin of cheating, you and Mantis stand up and join your friends.

"I can't believe that just happened." Gamora comments as soon as you reach her, as impressed as she is concerned.

Your gaze searches for Pietro however, and he looks upset.

"Comrade, your sister is the champion of Hogwarts! She managed to do what we were trying to! Why the long face?" Quill asked his friend excited and confused, but when he went to hug Pietro, he pulled away, an angry grimace on his face.

"I can't believe Wanda kept this from me." He grumbled, you and your friends looked at him in surprise. 

"Come on Pietro, maybe she didn't think it would work and didn't want to say anything." Quill suggested but the boy shook his head.

"No you don't get it." He retorts. "She absolutely could not have risked doing something like that."

And then he turns away, and heads for the teachers' table. You and your friends are left with puzzled expressions, but upon noticing that he looked like he was going to be talking to his father for quite some time, you return to your conversation.

"I can't believe Wanda didn't tell anyone about putting in the name on the goblet, that's incredible." Quill adds. Nebula begins to argue how dangerous it was for someone without enough magical acquaintance to be in such an ordeal, and your stomach does a turn. You walk away from the conversation, heading toward the group of Tony's friends who were standing a few feet away from you.

"Hey, your friend just caused a stir around here." Tony jokes as soon as you reach him.

"I noticed it." You retort as you spot Professor Strange separating with a spell a student who jumped on top of another. "Everyone is talking about how dangerous it is for her to participate, can you tell me anything good about it?"

Tony laughs at the desperation in your voice. 

"I figure eternal glory and the thousand-gallon prize is the good part." He teases, and you run your hands through your hair, trying to ignore the urge to go into that little room and find out if Wanda is okay. Tony assumes a serious expression next, and lowers his tone, not that it was necessary, since everyone seems wrapped up in their own conversations. "You also find it strange that this happens after what happened at the cup, don't you?" He asks and you nod. Tony sighs. "Maybe this is a good time for you to talk to Wanda, little sis. About how you feel about her. And well, maybe as you help her practice for the tournament, you guys can figure out what that connection means."

You nod, feeling your cheeks warm. It was still strange how all your friends knew about the way you cared for Wanda.

You wanted to ask Tony if he had found out anything since you last talked properly, but Professor Strange ordered everyone back to their dormitories the next moment, and after Tony messed up your hair, you turned and headed toward the Hufflepuff students who were leaving the hall.

//-//

There was no way you could sleep without talking to Wanda, so you risked an detention by sneaking out of the dorm after curfew. Mantis grumbled at you to be careful before turning over in her sleepy state, making you laugh softly.

You used a simple invisibility spell on yourself, not so strong that you were completely invisible, but enough to blend into the shadows of the castle as you descended back into the dungeons. Hogwarts was, yes, very scary at that time.

The board at the entrance was sleeping, and after removing the invisibility spell, you poked it with your wand to wake it up.

"What, what is that?" Complained the irritated painting, looking around and acquiring an angry expression when he noticed you.

"I'm sorry. Keep your voice down please." You asked. "I need to get inside."

The painting looked at you suspiciously.

"I have seen you here before, but you are not from the honorable house of Slytherin."

"That is not your problem, Mr. Talos." You retort impatiently. "Just let me in. The password is Polyjuice Potion."

"Your friends will get in trouble if they keep sharing their password with you." Warned the painting before moving, giving you passage to enter.

"Thank you, Mr.Talos." You said with slight irony, walking into the dormitory.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked around at the empty environment. You were used to the place, but it was still creepy when poorly lit like this.

"We don't like intruders." Spoke a voice in the corner of the room, making you jump in fright.

"Damn, Nat, you scared the hell out of me." You complained, putting your hand to your chest and feeling your heart racing. The girl giggled, closing the book in her hand and standing up in your direction.

"Why are you here?" she asked with her arms crossed.

You gave her a lopsided smile.

"I came to check on Wanda, of course."

Nat narrowed her eyes at you.

"Why?"

"Why?" you retort after a short laugh. "Because she has just been chosen for the deadliest competition in the wizarding world, and everyone in this place wants to remind me of it!" You exclaim, and can't stop yourself. "I heard a girl say in the hallway that the tournament was banned for the number of deaths! Did you know that? Yeah, neither did I. And well, I can't sleep, because I keep thinking that something like that might happen to Wanda. And when I think about it, I can't breathe and I..."

"Stark, breathe!" Natasha interrupts you with concern, placing her hands on your shoulders. You gasp slightly, realizing that your eyes are filled with tears as you notice your vision blurring. You sigh, trying to normalize your breathing as you force a smile and wipe your face. "God, what was that all about?"

"It was nothing." You grumble. "I'm just worried."

Natasha doesn't buy your excuse, though.

"Tony told me about what happened in the cup." She says as she lowers her arms. You look at her in surprise. "He also told me about how connected to Wanda you have been feeling. I just didn't imagine that you would almost have a little tantrum at the possibility of her getting hurt."

You feel your cheeks flush, looking away to your shoes.

"I didn't have a tantrum."

"Nearly." She teases, but you don't laugh, feeling your stomach churn. Nat looks at you seriously next. "Wanda's not here."

You raise your head in surprise.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know." She replies. "Believe me, you weren't the only one who tried to talk to her. The whole dorm was wanting to know how she tricked the goblet, but no one has seen her since the selection."

You feel your heart soar, and seeing the way you react, Nat raises a hand to your arm again.

"Hey, try not to think about it so much." She says. "Maybe she's with her father. I imagine it's been quite a commotion that a minor has swindled the goblet, and the ministry must be trying to decide what to do. She must be in the teachers' dormitory, she is still a child after all."

"Wanda is already fifteen." You grumble.

"Yes, and I'm sixteen. We're all kids, Y/N." She retorts. "I don't think Professor Lehnsherr was going to leave his daughter alone at such a time."

You sigh, nodding in agreement.

"Try to get some sleep, will you?" Nat asks next. "I'm sure Wanda will talk to you tomorrow. And well, I think she's going to need her best friend to not sleep through the conversation."

"Wanda said I'm her best friend?" 

Nat laughs at the way you talk, probably sounding like a lovesick puppy. 

"God, you two are a disaster." She comments before waving you toward the exit. You bid her goodnight and thank her before walking back to your dorm.

//-//