#and i'll be back in Oxford and i Know where to go and Who to speak to

[qvietspvce]

i was invited to go to a pride event with friends this weekend and now i'm tempted to cancel because i'm not sure i can trust myself not to fuck up my sobriety and i'm absolutely shitting myself at telling them

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Princess & The Pilot

In which Lando Norris meets his childhood crush, who just happens to be an actual princess.

Warnings: none Pairing: Lando Norris x BritishPrincess!Reader Word Count: 3.5k or something

(quick note: running late for a meeting this morning but wanted to get this out. I'll update the tag list later tonight when/if I have time. Enjoy the new seriesssss!)

Master List

There must be a foreign power invading London. 

That is the only reason you can think that your assistant would be waking you up at 8am the morning after you spent nearly 12 hours entertaining Argentinian foreign dignitaries with your father yesterday. When you had tumbled into bed at 2am after the state dinner the previous night, the last words you had mumbled to Noelle were ‘please don’t wake me up before noon tomorrow.’ 

This was supposed to be your one day off after attending engagements with your parents four days in a row. 

“I’m so sorry, your highness.” Noelle whispers from where she stands at the foot of her bed. You immediately wonder if the palace groundskeepers would be willing to install a set of locks on the doors to your apartments that only you had the keys to. 

“Noelle, you’ve been my assistant for how many years now? You can call me by my first name.” You grumble from under the thick cream duvet that you had tugged over your head moments before. 

You glare at Noelle but immediately regret it when you see the anxious look on the older woman’s face. This wasn’t her choice, you realized. “What does my father want now?” 

Noelle worries at the corner of her lip before holding out her cell phone. “He’s been trying to reach you for an hour now. Insisted I come wake you up.” 

“He’s been unable to reach me because he swore up and down last night that I’d get today off from anything family related.” You complain, unable to keep the whine out of your voice.  

Tossing off the covers, you swing your legs over the side of your king sized bed before reaching out to take Noelle’s phone from her. You can see the active call ticking away with your father’s name on the caller ID ‘HRH King Edward’ 

“Good morning Papa.” You expertly adjust your tone, knowing that if your father hears one single hint of grouchiness in your voice you’ll never hear the end of it. “Everything okay?” 

“Your brother is sick.” His tone is brisk and you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean to be short with you. He is literally the King of England after all. You’re sure he’s got a few things on his mind beyond worrying about waking his youngest child up at the crack of dawn. 

“Does he need me to bring him something? Soup? Medicine?” 

Your father scoffs on the other end of the line. “Don’t be silly.” He scolds. “My doctor has already been in to see him this morning. It’s just the flu, but he is contagious.” 

You’re silent on your end of the phone, knowing there is more to come as the news of your older brother being sick didn’t really warrant an early morning phone call. 

“I need you to take over the engagement he was going to do today.” 

It takes every ounce of royal training for you not to groan. You’d been attending events and engagements all weekend long, standing in for your mother who also was sick with the flu. “Can’t Mike do it?” 

Your youngest brother Michael was in his final year at Oxford before he’d go on to do the requisite military training but he was still able to engagements here and there. 

“Michael has exams this week, so he is unavailable.” 

You nearly suggest your sister-in-law Charlotte take her husbands place but know that would also be turned down as she’s been busy with her new well baby charity and juggling having two young children at home as well. The weight of the expectations of being the second eldest child of the King of England hangs heavy on your shoulders as the sunlight pours in through the curtains Noelle has drawn back. It’s a gorgeous spring day in London, which you know is rare this time of year. You had been planning on spending the day out on the private gardens that are tucked away in a hidden part of the palace not open to tourists reading a book in the quiet. 

“What’s the engagement then?” You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that once again, your family duties were coming before your own personal agenda. 

You tried so hard not to be resentful of the weight of who you were and most of the time, you were fine with your station in life. You lived a very privileged, if not somewhat regimented and controlled, life as the only daughter to King Edward and Queen Matilde of the United Kingdom. Your parents, while busy with their own lives and duties, adored you and your two brothers, Sebastian and Michael. They had worked hard when you were younger to make sure that you and your siblings were raised as normally as possible, which hadn’t always been easy. 

“You’ll be going out to the Silverstone Circuit in Towcester to meet with some people from the McLaren Formula 1 team. They're the Duke of Dover Awards newest partner and their drivers are doing some laps the track with children from the local schools. They’d like to take you on the track too.” 

Your brother had started the Duke of Dover Awards when he had married Charlotte 10 years ago and had inherited the title as the heir to the throne. The foundation awarded hundreds of thousands of pounds each year to kids and teenagers that applied to be recipients of grants to improve their communities, start small businesses, and conduct scientific research. It was your brother’s brainchild and baby and you were shocked that Sebastian had agreed to allow anyone that wasn’t him to go near an event of theirs. 

Sighing, you stand and shrug on the silk robe that was hanging form the little hook next to your bed. You were certainly not getting a day off today, now were you? “Okay, sounds straight forward enough. Does Noelle have the details?” 

“Yes, Noelle has everything you’ll need. Thank you for helping, little dove.” 

Your heart squeezes as the nickname your father has used since you were a toddler. You knew he carried a heavy weight with the crown on his head and expected nothing but the best from himself, and by extension you and your siblings, at all times because of it. He meant well and loved you fiercely, you knew that but sometimes it got lost in the legacy of what it meant to be a Windsor. 

“Of course, Papa.” 

You hang up and hand the phone back to your assistant. “Papa says you have all the details. Could you have everything printed out so I can read it in the car. Towcester is quite far away, isn’t it?” 

“About an hour and a half, if traffic is good.” 

You nod, mind jumping into preparation mode. The timeline that had landed in your inbox while you had been on the phone with your father said you needed to be there a little after 1pm, which gave you enough time to get ready. “Can you call Tibby, give her the details and have her pull some outfits for me? I can do my own makeup and I don’t think I’ll need anything fancy for hair, yeah?” 

Noelle nods, eyes skimming her emails. “Your brother’s valet says he was planning on wearing jeans and a jumper, so it sounds casual. Natural makeup and a sporty ponytail, maybe?” 

“That’s fine, I can do that myself.” Sometimes it chafed at you how much had to go into your appearance. You could never really go out looking sloppy or unkempt because the bad press that it inevitably invited drove your mother crazy. If your father was preoccupied with the weight of his crown, your mother was preoccupied with the weight of what her image meant to millions of people. It was a difficult relationship to navigate and you didn’t always do a good job, so you tried to maintain at least the minimum appearance standards your mother requested just to appease her. 

Noelle snaps into action, calling Sebastian’s valet to get some more details on the people that will be present along with any other notes he had thought important. You pad towards your private bathroom to take a shower and get ready for what you assumed would be another routine royal engagement. 

And boy, how wrong you were. 

“Are you nervous?” Oscar mutters as he comes to lean against the counter in the garage next to where Lando stands, scrolling on his phone.

Lando looks up, confusion knitting his brows together. “Nervous for what?” 

As far as he knew, this was just going to be another routine event with some kids and the Duke of Dover, who he'd already met last year during the race at Silverstone. Nothing to be nervous about really.

“To meet the princess!” Oscar chuckles, knocking his shoulder into Lando's.

“Princess?" The crease on his forehead deepens even more. "I thought it was the Duke that was coming. Isn’t it his awards thing that we're partnering with?” 

Oscar shrugs. “Zak said the Duke is sick. His sister is coming instead. Apparently she just pulled in as well. Sophie is running around like a chicken with it's head cut off. Something about not being prepared for her."  

Oh. A thick sense of anxiety settles in the pit of Lando's stomach. Oh fuck. This changed things. He certainly hadn't been nervous before but now he was, knowing that it was you that he'd be driving around the track instead of your brother.

Like most guys his age, Lando had grown up with photos of you taped to the back of his door and indulged in several...interesting and not very polite fantasies when he was in his teens. In fact, now that Lando thinks about it, you were probably his very first crush. You had been the first princess to be born into the Royal family in two generations and the press had fallen in love with you the day you were born, dubbing you the English Rose that was going to save the monarchy.

Once you reached your 18th birthday and debuted into society, taking your place beside your older brother and parents by working for the family full time while going to university to study international business, the country had fallen even more in love with you. Your family was well loved by the entirety of the Common Wealth but you? You were absolutely everyone's favorite Windsor by a country mile. And that included the British Formula One driver.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar's thick accent shakes Lando out of his day dream.

"Oh, yeah." Lando replies weakly, rubbing the palm of his hand over his jaw, glad he had shaved this morning and put a bit of extra care into his hair.

"Boys!" Sophie, McLaren's head of Public Relations, yells at the entrance of the garage, fists on her hips as she taps her toe glaring at the pair. "The princess is here and everyone is waiting on you."

"Coming." Lando mumbles, desperately trying to tamp down the nerves that are making his stomach do somersaults. This is like a teenage wet dream come true.

Just outside the garage is a group of people clustered around several McLaren sports cars waiting to get started. Lando can see Zak chatting with you from 50 meters away and he loses all ability to think straight when he sees you in person for the first time. You're dressed in dark wash jeans that hug your curves and, much to Lando's surprise, a papaya colored knit jumper. With your hair pulled back in a high ponytail, your delicate features on full display. He couldn't help thinking how much better you looked in real life compared to the glossy magazine photos he used to keep tacked up to his bedroom wall.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lando, Oscar, and Sophie approaching before Zak does but you don't allow the group to distract you from your conversation with McLaren's CEO. That kind of behavior would send your mother into a tailspin. She hadn't sent you off to boarding school at the age of 12 for nothing after all. But you can't help how your stomach twists when you lock eyes with the boy with the curly hair. A nervous ghost of a smile plays at the corner of his full lips, sending goosebumps exploding over your skin.

"Oh, there they are!" Zak finally notices the drivers and Sophie and moves to introduce everyone. Behind you, Noelle hovers, lying in wait to correct anyone who might break royal protocol when it comes to interacting with you. You desperately wish she would've let you come alone.

Introductions are made and you try your hardest to ignore the way your skin sparks when you shake hands with Lando. Zak explains how the afternoon is going to go and that Lando is going to take you around the track on a hot lap while Oscar and a few other reserve McLaren drivers take the kids out behind.

"Nervous, your highness?" Lando asks as he checks the chin strap on your crash helmet.

The way your stomach dips when he smiles at you has nothing to do with nerves.

"You're about to whip me around this race track at speeds that could kill me, I think you can call me by my first name, Lando." You tease, deflecting the real reason your palms are sweating.

Lando blushes, eyes falling to the ground. "I guess that's true. Just didn't want your lady in waiting to tackle me for committing some protocol crime, I guess."

The laugh that escapes you would send your mother into a complete fit it's so sudden and loud. "She does look like she's lying in wait, doesn't she?" Your eyes dart above Lando's shoulder where Noelle stands, eyes trained on you as if she's expecting someone to attack at any moment.

"She's just a little...protective." You say, voice going soft. "Last year we had a little incident where I was being stalked for several months. The guy thought we were engaged and he somehow managed to get around my protection officers and into my building at 3 in the morning. They caught him outside my door with duct tape, rope and a knife in his bag."

Your eyes go wide with horror as you realize what you've just said. No one in the public knew about that, your parents had insisted on keeping the investigation quiet. The man had been sent to a psychiatric facility with the blessing of his family and charges hadn't been filed in order to protect your privacy. You had no idea why you had just spilled one of your most closely kept secrets to a veritable stranger.

"Well then I'm glad she's here to watch over you." Lando's voice is quiet, like he knows you don't want others overhearing this conversation. "I'd hate to think of anything happening to such a pretty girl."

For several moments, the busy pitlane falls away a bit as Lando's hands remain on the straps of your helmet and he looks at you like he's known you for your entire life. You're used to people staring at you and being under the microscope but the way Lando looks at you makes you want to squirm in the most delicious way possible.

"Okay, you two!" Zak booms, shocking you out of the little bubble that had grown around you and Lando those few moments. "Lets get you out on the track. Lando, please remember this is a member of the royal family, I'd rather not have to leave the country if you injure her."

"What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I hurt the princess in my charge?" Lando quips, aiming a wink your way before rounding the hood of the low slung papaya colored McLaren.

You can't help the way you snort in response to his flirting, it's so ridiculous but you also can't ignore the way your stomach twists in delight at the way Lando's tongue works around the word princess while he looks at you.

You had to be careful though. Despite Lando being famous and well off in his own right, you were even a step above that and life had taught you that even the most well connected and rich men saw you as the ultimate prize. Who wouldn't want to marry the only daughter to the King of England, even if they had billions. You can't buy a real royal pedigree. Not like the one you had, dating back generations on both sides of your family.

No, you couldn't allow yourself the luxury of lowered walls but you could allow yourself to indulge in a little innocent flirting, because that's all it would ever or could ever be with Lando Norris.

"Zak, can I file a workplace injury claim if I've gone deaf this afternoon from her screeching?" Lando complained as he held out a hand to help you out of the McLaren 45 minutes later.

"I have no idea what you're talking about! Princesses don't screech." You sniff, smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you yank your hand out of his grasp the moment you're steady on your feet.

Lando snorts now, rolling his eyes, enjoying the color that flushes in high on your cheekbones. He was the one to make you blush like that and it sends a zing of arousal straight to his cock. While you had been in the car with Lando, before he had scared the daylights out of you, he'd been able to overcome the initial nerves of meeting his boyhood crush and had settled into a flirty conversation. The way you two bantered back and forth so naturally was new to Lando and kind of unnerving to him, but in a good way.

"I'm inclined to believe if the princess was driven to 'screech' that it was all your fault, Lando." Zak jokes with a shrug before turning to you. "Thank you so much for coming out this afternoon and filling in for your brother. We got some great shots of you guys on the track and before with everyone together."

You nod, smiling at the group that's now gathered. Beside you, Lando has wiggled his way between Noelle and yourself so he's settled in at your side. "Wonderful. I'm sure they'll be the perfect content you guys all need. Is there anything else you need from me today? Did all the kids get laps on the track and the merch bags?"

Sophie nods, "Yes ma'am, no one left empty handed."

You sigh internally knowing that the day is almost over. You can taste the freedom of the back seat of the Range Rover where you can finally let your mask down for a few extra moments. You loved days like this, busy and filled with lost of interaction with the public but it was also exhausting beyond measure. You knew you'd sleep well tonight, having attended events nearly every night for the past 9 days.

"Good, thank you." Your eyes find the McLaren CEO who stands across from you. "Zak, I assume we'll see you at the awards gala Saturday night?"

Zak nods, "Yes, Oscar and I will be there."

You can't help the bit of disappointment that blooms in your chest when he doesn't say Lando's name. You hate it and ignore it the best you can because it simply isn't acceptable. So instead you lean on your years of training and upbringing to hide your true feelings. "Lovely, I can't wait to see you both again."

As Lando watches your car pull away, he can't help but feel a little disappointed that your time together is up.

"What awards gala was she talking about? Why wasn't I invited? Lando practically whines, turning to Zak once the Range Rover is out of sight.

Zak chuckles "You were invited Norris and you turned it down because, and I quote, 'you don't do boring awards dinners that aren't written into your contract'."

Lando kicks at a rock with his sneaker, feeling a bit foolish. "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to make an exception for this one then."

Zak narrows his eyes, not liking where he thinks Lando's head is going. "Listen Norris, I know your personal life is none of my business."

"And you'd be right in that assesment, Zak." Lando responds cooly.

Zak holds his hand up, "But I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that whatever I think is going on in your head about the woman that just left the track is probably a bad idea. A princess like her is not able to have a casual relationship like the ones your used to. Just..." Zak pauses, trying to put his advice in the best words possible. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Message recieved loud and clear, Zak." Lando mutters before turning and walking back towards the garages.

[venus-vault]

Friend of the Family

Mr. Reed × Fem! (Mid-20s) Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Part 3 - (y/n)'s Christmas wishes are finally fulfilled...

⚠️TW: Age Gap, Oral Sex (Female Recipient), Raw P in V Penetration, Minimal Dirty Talk, Light Slutshaming, General Smut. 🎄

He removes the oven mitts and his attention is back on me, where it belongs.

Mr. Reed perches his glasses on top of his head and strokes my cheek, sympathetic to my plight.

I narrow my eyes at him "You don't even mean it. You're a total tease."

He grins.

"And you, sweet (y/n), are a brat." He takes on a more serious tone, "All those eyerolls, all that huffing and puffing when you dont get exactly what you want, right when you want it. You've abdolutely no restraint. You're entitled, and especially to what's not yours." A self-satisfied smirk "You're clever, beautiful, naughty, and you think those traits are enough to get by on. The quintessential Oxford scholar by day, party princess by night. I knew a great many girls like you when I was an Oxonian. Which is why that behaviour," he points a finger at me "must end immediately, if you're to be respected."

I scoff at his indictment.

"You're wrong-"

"You've spent the entirety of the morning trying to get me to bend you over the kitchen counter. Even before your father had left the house, why is that?" His brows raise momentarily and he knows he's got me pegged.

I feel myself go red.

"Because..." I trail off, unable to find the words or meet his gaze. I don't like him calling me out like this, it makes me feel dirty, but I listen when he speaks.

"Because, (y/n), you want it so desperately that you can't even wait for me to take you to bed." He leans down, lips just centimeters from my ear and whispers. "You need it right here. Right now. And you think you'll get it too, if you're persistent enough. " he chuckles.

I shiver at the sensation of his breath on my neck and he's not wrong, but I can't let him be right.

"No-"

"You've been so completely transparent from the moment you crossed my threshold, it's a marvel Jonathan hasn't noticed by now. I almost want to tell him, if just to point out the true depths of his incomptence, the poor bastard."

My eyes go wide and my mouth is dry and- "Please don't. Don't tell him. I'll behave, keep my hands to myself, I promise. I swear, Mr. Reed, I'll-"

His hands are on either side of me, trapping my body in its place against the counter.

"Well. Let's not be hasty, mm? I was only making a point. I didn't say I was going to tell him. Despite your best efforts and worst behaviours, I find you to be quite...captivating."

"Oh?" 

He's so close I can feel his body heat, it would be so easy to kiss him, to touch him, but I don't. Restraint. His eyes hold mine and Mr. Reed looks down on me like he has what I want, knows something I don't.

"There it is."

"What?"

"That look. The look you gave me last night. That look, says everything without a word. It says 'touch me. Use me, harshly. Make me Whole.' And is that what you want, (y/n)? Ultimately, I mean. To be with someone through which you see yourself made complete?"

Yes. Yes.

"No." I state, defiant.

The air between us is charged as he leans down to press a few small, soft kisses into the side of my throat. "You, " He murmurs into the skin of my neck, continuing his trail of light pecks down onto my collarbones, "are a terrible liar," his fingers rake up under the fabric of my sweater, pulling it over my head and throwing it aside. He takes a moment to appreciate my breasts before resuming his succesion down my body, sinking to his knees before me. "but I shall grant you your wish," Mr. Reed's eyes meet mine and his fingers hook into the sides of my pajama shorts and the dampened panties beneath, dragging them swiftly down my legs, "because really, who am I to deny the need of a gorgeous, entirely desperate young woman, hm?" A close-lipped smile.

I'm completely exposed before him and I step out of the shorts. He discards them over his shoulder, looking up at me, eye-level with my sex. Taking a deep breath, I part my legs for him.

Mr. Reed holds my calves steady as he licks a long stripe up my left inner thigh from knee to labia, then does the same to the opposite side. "(y/n), rest your elbows back on the counter for me."

I do, and he sweeps the backs of my thighs up, letting one rest on either of his shoulders. He's surprisingly strong for his age and I watch his eyes close as he inhales my scent before dragging his tongue up my vulva eagerly, methodically. His mouth is hot and his eyes are somehow bluer than they were, I watch them roll back, closing as he carries on.

His grip is firm on my thighs and I gasp at the way he moans into me, a heavenly vibration as he slips a finger inside, pumping few times in a slow and steady rhythm before adding a second. Plucking the glasses from his head, I set them on the counter, and weave a hand into his hair.

I'm tense with need and feel myself starting to tighten up around his fingers. "Mr. Reed," I pant, "Please-" crossing my ankles over his back as he continues.

The tip of his tongue works agonizingly slow circles over my clit and I clench a couple times. "Mister R-Reeed, I'm- mmh," I moan, hips bucking involuntarily, as he gradually speeds up the pace of his fingers.

It's a dizzying feeling in tandem with the slow friction of his tongue and I'm almost there. "Mister Reed, I- ohh my God!" It comes out as a helpless whimper and my head falls back as orgasm drives through my body in a series of demanding pulsations. My eyes close and I feel weak, hot and filthy as I attempt to catch my breath.

Mr. Reed stills his movements as I start to come down somewhat, flustered and trembling. He withdraws his fingers and gives them a quick taste before rising from his kneeling position and grabbing a tea towel from the counter to freshen up with. He gives my forehead a peck. "Thank Y-you," I breathe, blinking up at him

"You're very welcome..." he murmurs. I take a second to let my gaze drag over him. He's so pretty. Hair disheveled, panting, cardigan askew. His cock is hard, throbbing, ready. I reach for it but he seizes my wrist, eyes wide in warning.

"Ah-ah. No dessert without dinner," I flush at this and he smirks. "Tonight, you learn temperance. And if you're good, you might earn yourself a nice shag. In a bed, this time." He teases.

Mr. Reed gives me a wink, dropping my arm, and snatches his glasses off the counter, removing a phone from his cardigan pocket and leaning back against the kitchen island. I watch him adjust himself and his brow furrows as he reads a text.

"(y/n), purple or green?" He asks, not looking up.

"Why?" I collect my clothes from the floor, pulling them on hastily.

"Why do you think? It obviously has to do with your gift, now choose."

"Green."

He taps at his phone some then places it back in his pocket, flashing me a contented grin.

"Perfect. Now, I believe you were headed upstairs to change, yes?"

"No, I-"

"So you'd like to be sat here in the same pajamas, smelling like sex and shame when he gets back then? Bold of you."

"Okay fine, I'm going."

"Good choice."

I simper at him, exhaling through my nose, and wait til my back is turned to roll my eyes this time, making my way down the hallway and up the stairs.

After a long shower, I treat myself to a quick hour nap, only to be awoken by my phone buzzing violently under the pillow. It's a text from an unsaved number.

303-555-4844: Don't wear that slutty red top to dinner tonight. x

It has to be him and I tap back : how did u get this number?? have u been going thru my suitcase????

303-555-4844: Your dad's phone doesn't have a passcode and I wanted to get to know you better. He's back, by the way. Chewing my ear about gifting, the election, Zillow listings. Considering a shot of bleach. x

I  stifle a laugh and save him to my contacts before figuring out a response.

Me: don't u have cookies to decorate?

Reed: They're done & drying. Are you?

I sit up and write him back, resituating the towel I'd fallen asleep wrapped up in.

Me: yep & avoiding the 2 of u

Reed: You wound me. Come down. x

Me: 🙄 do I have to?

Reed: Your insufferability reads well over text, I like it better in person. Come down. x

Me: fine gimme a sec

He likes me and I get ready, I get all dressed up, in black jeans and what I can only assume he meant by 'that slutty red top'.

In actuality, it's a somewhat thin, incredibly soft long-sleeved red henley shirt with snaps down the front. I undo a couple for effect, sort out my hair, slip my phone into my pocket and walk downstairs.

The kitchen smells fantastic and Mr. Reed and Dad chatter on either side of the island, sipping red wine and laughing loudly. Mr. Reed wears a maroon button down shirt, the top button undone and sleeves rolled. He's devastating. I take a breath and collect my thoughts, greeting the room with a sheepish smile.

"So he lives," I joke, giving Dad a quick side hug before taking the seat next to him at the counter.

"Hey Bug, yeah I barely made it out of there alive. I was just telling Mr. Reed that apparently the other shoppers were just as desperate. One lady even shoved me in the checkout line! But I guess that's what I get for waiting to shop til 2 days out, it's war out there!" He giggles.

"Get me something nice?" I question.

"No comment." Dad grins excitedly and gives Mr. Reed a look.

"Mr. Reed, did he?"

He smiles, looking up from his wine glass. "Not at liberty to say, I'm afraid." He winks at me as he sips, eyes flitting to my chest momentarily.

"Fine then," I cross my arms, looking between them "keep your secrets. I would like to know what's for dinner, though."

"Coq Au Vin," Mr. Reed states proudly, his French accent immaculate. "And Pinot Noir to compliment, obviously. Would you like some, (y/n)?"

"Love some. Small pours this time though." I laugh.

"Small pours and small sips, eh?" He quips back, pouring a half glass and pushing it across the counter to me.

We eat and laugh, drink and talk and 9:30 comes fast.

Dad's eyes are half-lidded and he yawns, rising from his stool.

"Well, it's been fun kids, but this old man must rest, lest my legs seize up from all that walking."

"Night, Dad."

"Sleep well, J."

Dad pads down the hallway and I watch Mr. Reed clear plates and pans, rinsing them in the sink, his back turned to me.

"So...Coq Au Vin, huh?" I sip my wine.

"I thought I told you not to wear that."

"I don't take fashion advice from old men."

He dries his hands, stepping around the counter to stand in front of me. I'm tipsy, not drunk, but my whole body goes warm as he looks me over, eyes lingering on my chest.

"To every action, (y/n), an equal or opposite reaction. What do you believe the equal or opposite reaction to this saucy little garment will be?"

"I dunno, Mister Reed..." I look but don't touch and my teeth sink into my lower lip as his eyes catch mine. He studies my face for a second and smirks.

"Upstairs. Now. Last door on your left."

I scoot off the stool and our bodies brush past eachother momentarily as I wander towards the hallway.

"Will you be joining me?" I ask over my shoulder.

"I'll be along in a minute. Get yourself comfortable in bed, text if you need anything."

I give him a quick nod and make my way upstairs to the last door on the left side of the hallway, pushing it open slowly.

Mr. Reed's bedroom, not unlike his kitchen, is obscenely large and incredibly well designed.

A four-poster bed, overlapping Persian rugs, and what appear to be stained glass windows. The walls are coated in the same bright green wallpaper as the living room and he's got cases upon cases of books and records lining them. I note a vinyl player on one end of the room, and a scented candle on one of the nightstands.

I close the door behind me gently and pad over to the nightstand with the candle on it. Yanking off my shirt, bralette and jeans, I carefully climb into his bed.

The sheets are silk and the room is warm and maybe I'm a little past tipsy, because laying in his bed feels like a divine experience. I'd be content just to be held here for hours on end. I stretch and relax my body, letting out a deep breath.

The door's handle turns and Mr. Reed steps inside, closing and locking it with caution. He stands at the end of the bed, taking in the sight of my body, warm, languid, vulnerable. All for him.

"Ohhh, you are Glorious. But are you comfortable?"

"Verrry," I purr, smiling as I sprawl out. "Your bed is so cozy..."

"If you're impressed with the bed alone, just wait till you find out what I plan to do to you in it." he smirks.

I prop myself up on my elbows to look at him properly. "And what is it you plan to do to me, Mr. Reed?"

"Turn over and I'll show you."

I follow his instruction, laying on my stomach, and look over my shoulder at him as he untucks and unbuttons his shirt. His arms are uncharacteristically muscular for a man his age, his chest is toned, his torso slender, and I have to swallow to keep myself from salivating.

I watch as he undoes his belt and unzips his pants.  His boxers are navy blue paisley and his cock strains against them urgently as he climbs onto the bed behind me. He grinds its length against my ass, letting out a low groan into the crook of my neck as I arch back into him instinctively. I can't help the moan that leaves me as one of his hands wraps around my throat, squeezing lightly while the other snakes around my hip and under the hem of my panties, exploring the slickness of my folds.

"Not so contrarian now, are we, (y/n)?" He chuckles under his breath, slowly rubbing himself against me and my mind goes hazy when I feel his clothed cock twitch against the gusset of my panties.

"Mmmh, Mister Reed," I whimper "I need it..."

"And you'll have it, impatient little thing you are..." His fingers circle over my clit and I gasp.

Both of his hands leave me at once and I groan at the loss of sensation. He hooks his fingers under my hips, arching them higher to meet his own. Mr. Reed pulls my drenched panties aside to line himself up with me and without warning or hesitation, he slips inside with a singular harsh thrust.

I bite hard onto a pillow to keep from crying out. I'm not used to his length or his girth yet and it's shocking to feel this completely filled out all at once. His fingers return to my clit and I suck in a sharp breath, my whole body on edge as he starts to gently buck into my core, picking up pace quickly and I feel myself tighten around him.

"M-mister Reed..  ahh-hmmm, ke-eeep doing that, fuck!"

"I intend to, darling. You're so cute when you take it like this. Tell me something, (y/n), are you my good girl?"

"Y-yesss,"  manage,  breathless.

"Mm? Sorry, didn't hear you there. I said: Are. You. My. Good. Fucking. Girl?" He rumbles. Every word is punctuated by a thrust and my mind goes blank as he continues ramming into me mercilessly.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes Mr. Reed! Yes!" I mewl, needy.

"There you are, and so pretty too. My sweet, pretty, dirty girl..." he pulls out and turns me over in one fluid motion, his mouth claiming mine in a hungry kiss.

He licks and nibbles his way down my neck to my chest, leaving tiny love bites on my breasts as he trails further along my torso and then finally he hovers over my center, drawing closer.

Mr. Reed flattens his tongue and laps from entrance to clit a few times before focusing the warmth of his tongue solely on my clit and inserting two curled fingers into me, working my G-spot thoroughly and I whine. "Oh my god-" my hands find his hair as he continues. "Mis-Mister Reeeed, if you keep doing that I'm gonna come..." I breathe. He groans into me and firmly grips my thigh with the hand that isn't working me to ecstasy.

I feel myself starting to tighten and clench and I try to hold on but it's useless. I fall apart around his fingers, whimpering and shaking as I do, and Mr. Reed gives me no time to recover.

He's instantly fucking me, pushing my knees up to my chest and dipping the fingers he just had inside me into my mouth. I take them in, sucking enthusiastically as I blink up at him.

"Ohh, you are just the most unbelievable sight, and making all these indecent little noises just for me.... tell me, (y/n)" he leans in to whisper in my ear, "where do you want it?"

I heave "anywhere, everywhere, please, I-"

He gives a few more jarring, final thrusts before pulling out, eyes fixed to mine as he slowly strokes himself, groaning, teeth sunk into his lower lip, eyes closing as his release beats out in thick spurts down my neck, chest and stomach.

His breath comes in ragged huffs as he takes a moment to collect himself before looking over my degraded, flushed and depleted figure.

"Stay right there, don't move an inch," He breathes unsteadily, making his way across the room to  the dresser and tugging on a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a t-shirt.  Mr. Reed exits the bedroom and returns a couple seconds later with a fresh towel for me. I take it and wipe myself off to the best of my ability, discarding it over the side of the bed.

He crawls back into bed and pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss into the top of my head. "That," he pants " was brilliant. You're a vixen, (y/n),  you know that?"

I sigh, trembling "Thank you."

"Oh you are more than welcome, thank You, (y/n)."

I plant a gentle peck on the center of his chest.

"One question. Small question."

"Anything."

"(y/n), do you believe in a God of some variant?"

"No, never, why?"

"You do a lot of 'oh my God '-ing when we...I thought I'd ask. I don't believe in that ridiculous nonsense either. It's all a system of control to keep people like you and I subdued, unambitious..."

"Oh." I feel myself blush "I didn't even realize.... yeah, no. I'd have to agree, I'm not a fan of organized religion."

I nuzzle my forehead into his chest and he rests his chin on my head.

"Mr. Reed?" I ask, somehwat muffled.

"(y/n)?" He chortles.

"I don't want to go back to my room..."

"Oh? I suppose you don't have to, necessarily... it is nearly christmas..." he strokes my hair, comforting. "but be there before he wakes up, mm?"

"Mhm." I confirm, eyes closing.

🎁Epilogue🎄

[fullsandwichmiracle]

"Oxford: A Year Abroad, part two”

Paring: Felix Catton x reader 

Warning: 18+, MDNI, nsfw, smut, size kink, weed ( tell me if i missed any)

Word count: 2243

01|02|03|04|05|?

Y/N awoke with a throbbing head, finding herself nestled against Felix's chest. As she looked up, she realized she had slept next to him and struggled to recall the events of the previous night. All she could remember was playing truth or dare, with the memory fading after Venetia's question. Did she have sex with Felix and not remember it or why was she in bed with him. They were both in underwear so she ruled out that they probably didn't have sex. Y/N emerged from the bed, slipping into her still partially damp clothes, and made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Felix mumbled in a groggy morning voice, causing Y/N's heart to race. She turned around, saying, "I need to get back to the dorm; my friends are probably wondering why I didn't come home last night.” 

Felix nodded and said, "Sit down I'll get you a cab; I need to get back too." Y/N settled back on the bed, waiting as Felix arranged for a cab.

"Did we do anything last night?" Y/N asked shyly looking down into the floor while Felix retrieved his trousers from the floor and began dressing himself. After throwing on his shirt, He positioned himself Infront of Y/N, delicately raising her chin while towering over her.

"Don't worry, love, nothing happened. Wouldn't mind doing it another time" he said, then gave her a kiss on the lips before heading out the door. Y/N was left speechless, watching him stroll away. Soon, she realized her shoes were nowhere to be seen and decided to go look for them.

When the cab arrived, Felix waved at Y/N to join, holding her heels, making her feel foolish for searching the entire house. They entered the cab, and Felix placed the shoes on Y/N's lap. " They were still by the pool," he remarked. As Felix brought up the pool, the memory of jumping in rushed back to her.

Upon reaching the campus, Felix tipped and settled the cab fare, then took Y/N's hand and strolled towards the campus building. "Which floor?" he inquired, looking at her and awaiting her response. "Third," Y/N replied, and they proceeded to climb the stairs. Felix followed her to her room, planting a kiss on her cheek when she paused outside her door. He then said, "Goodbye. Now that I know where you live, I'll be able to come and visit you and not only undress you in the corridors as you walk by.” Y/N blushed, unaware that she wasn't the only one staring in the corridors. He kissed her once more and casually strolled away to his room, conveniently located at the end of the hallway. The proximity ignited a desire in her, tempting her to follow him into his dorm. However, she restrained herself, mindful not to appear too clingy, realizing she also needed to take a shower and brush her teeth.

Throughout the day, Y/N lounged in her bed in pajamas, nursing a hangover and immersed in reading. She couldn't help but fantasize about the possibility of Felix showing up at any moment. Whenever she thought of him, she became all flustered and wanted to masturbate. She wanted to fuck him so bad. And as night fell and Felix didn't make an appearance, Y/N started preparing for bed. When closing her eyes, all she could think about was how much she desired him.

In her pajamas, Y/N left her bed, stepped into the corridor, and approached Felix's door, giving it a knock. The one who answered wasn't Felix but Farleigh. He glanced at her, realizing she was looking for Felix. "You have company," he mentioned, inviting her inside. Y/N entered, noticing that his room was more spacious than hers. Felix was on the floor near the couch, indulging in something that definitely wasn't a cigarette. Felix gestured for Y/N to join him on the floor. Farleigh went to the counter and made another joint. As she settled in, Felix inquired, "Do you smoke?”

And held out the joint for her to take a hit. She took a puff while it was still in his hand and began to cough. 

"Not really, just cigarettes," Y/N replied, taking another hit and this time inhaling the smoke. Felix gazed at her, almost proud that she did well. Farleigh sat down and started smoking his new joint now that Felix shared his with Y/N. After passing the joint back and forth a couple of times Felix glanced at Y/N and asked, "Wait, why did you come over?" Y/N blushed and, already feeling the effects, didn't mind the presence of someone else in the room. She went to sit on Felix's lap and said, "I'd like to take you up on your word from this morning.”

Felix took another drag of the joint and exhaled the smoke towards her. She inhaled, and he handed her the joint, all the while caressing her as she took her hit. He began unbuttoning her pajama shirt, revealing she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Farleigh, still seated across the room, cleared his throat to remind them of his presence. Felix cupped Y/N breasts and nibbled at her nipples that were getting stiff.

"Leave if you don't want to watch because I'm not stopping," he declared before resuming kissing her round big breast. Farleigh grabbed the joint from Y/N's hand and remarked, "I'm taking this as a thank you," then exited onto the balcony attached to his living space.

After he departed, Felix gazed into her eyes and inquired, "Do you wanna fuck me” and Y/N nodded, and he continued, "I want to hear you tell me that you want daddy to fuck you.” Y/N had never used such words before, but she genuinely desired for Felix to take her.“ Please fuck me daddy” She said, hoping that was going to please him. "You can do better than that, sweetie," he said softly, kissing her ear and massaging her breasts. “Please I need you to fuck my wet pussy daddy” She said, somewhat liking it. Felix responded, "Good girl, that's what daddy likes to hear." Standing up, he lifted her with him and tossed her onto the couch. He towered over her, and she realized how small she was compared to him, he could destroy her. He asked, "Want me to continue?" Y/N nodded, and he added, "With words" standing over her.

” Please don't stop daddy, I want you inside me” she said this time getting more turned on as she said it. She felt her pussy throbbing and wanted to feel him inside her. He started to explore his hand outside her pajama pants, feeling how wet they were while maintaining eye contact. Y/N moaned slightly from feeling his hand so close to her soaked pussy. “Already this wet for daddy, good little girl” he said, taking off her pants and panties in the same motion. His hand came back and his fingers began to circle her clit and she moaned softly as he started kissing her thighs. “Please daddy” she said, wanting Felix to stop teasing her. “I'm only getting started sweetie” he said, sliding a finger into her throbbing vagina as she moaned louder. He began fingering her while he's eating her out faster and faster as she moaned louder and louder as his tongue circled her wet pussy. “I'm cumming” Y/N moaned and Felix stopped whilst she was at a tipping point. “ You're not coming until I let you” he said, kissing her pussy and then unbuckling his belt and taking off his pants and boxers. His dick was massive and Y/N didn't think it would be able to fit. Again his size compared to her made her feel so small. “ Come and suck on your daddy's dick sweetie?” he said as he went up from the floor and sat on the couch next to her, Y/N crawled towards him and took his big cock in her hand feeling how it was throbbing. “You know I want to hear you say it” he said while holding her by the chin to look her in the eyes. “Can I please suck your dick daddy?” she said wanting to feel him inside her. Felix took his hand off her chin and put it at the back of her head leading it towards his dick. He didn't force her head, only guiding the tempo. As he moaned asking her” do you like sucking daddys big dick?” she answered with a moan that vibrated on his dick, making him moan louder. She started taking his cock deeper in her throat and almost gagging by its size. Going faster, enjoying his cock filling her throat, nearly taking it all. Felix moaned as Y/N sucked his cock deeper than he thought she would be able to. 

He pulled out his dick from her mouth telling her “ turn around so daddy can fuck your wet pussy” Y/N turned around, on her knees and answer “ yes daddy”. Felix held his dick and traced it around her throbbing pussy. “Good girl, are going to be able to take all this” he said, smacking her ass with his other hand. “ I will try” she whimpered not knowing if she actually could, she had never been with anyone that was this big. 

He began to enter her and as she moaned he moaned “Good girl” and went in further “ you're so tight I'm only halfway in” he said moaning. He began to circle her clit again while he started to thrust deeper and deeper every time. Y/N moaned“ Daddy, fuck me!” and as she said that he turned her around so she was laying on her back, he pulled her closer to him inserting himself inside Y/N again and with her legs around his neck. Somehow he got deeper, hitting her g-spot every time he trusted. Y/N moaned loudly and Felix put his hand covering her mouth “ shh, I want to be the only one who hears you” he said, shushing her. Not able to answer with his hand over her mouth she nodded. He continued to thrust inside her hitting her g-spot every time. He took his hand off her mouth and placed it around her neck slightly choking her only enough to make her want him more. Y/N legs began to shake as she was not able to take it much longer and was going to cum. “I'm going to cum” she moaned as he was going faster at a perfect pace. “Not yet sweetie, daddys not done fucking his perfect little girl.” he stated while starting to go even faster. “I can't hold it daddy, I'm going to cum.” she said in a moan. He began fingering her clit and said “ Be a good girl and listen to daddy ”  and began going even faster inside her sobbing wet pussy and flickering her clit. She couldn't hold it anymore and squirted as he continued to fuck her restless. He began to moan more as he thrusted inside her. “ Do you wanna cum on daddy's dick?” He said looking into her eyes. 

“ mhm.” she murmured, not being able to speak, ready to burst. “Okay on three, one, two” he said going faster and deeper ”three” as he said that Y/N came and got cum all over Felix dick. He thrusted inside her as she felt him realizing himself into her pussy, filling her up with his load. 

Y/N was breathing heavily and shaking from her orgasm. Felix pulled out and kissed her. “Good girl taking daddy so well.” He said and went to get a towel from the bathroom. When he came back he cleaned Y/N off and suggested “ Do you wanna shower?” And all she could do was nod, still not able to speak. Felix helped her up and began carrying her to the bathroom where she took a shower with Felix. Y/N gazed at Felix wet from the shower looking down on her, He bent down to kiss her passionately before handing out of the shower and drying himself. As Felix went out Farleigh emerged from the balcony with red eyes `` It sounded like you had fun, daddy” he mocked Felix who was dressed only in a white towel around his hips. As Y/N came out of the bathroom with a towel he said “ And there comes daddys good little girl” and chuckled. “ Shut the fuck up Farleigh, your only jealous you didn´t get any action” Felix said with a stern tone. Farleigh laughed before heading out the door saying “ Good night you two”.  As the door closed behind him, Felix remarked, "Don't mind him; he's just high," and kissed Y/N on the forehead. He then took her hand, guiding her into his bedroom. A sizable bed occupied the center of the room, adorned with satin bed covers. Y/N couldn't help but ponder on the cost of living in such a spacious dorm room, especially in contrast to her own.

Still exhausted from their hookup, they both laid down in the bed. Y/N curled up beside Felix, gradually drifting into sleep. Felix gazed at her, peacefully sleeping next to him, smiling, and desiring her never to leave his side.

[ghoulz4foolz]

Drift Playlist

It's been A While, but I completely revamped by Drift playlist. It's in chronological order from Dead End to the end of the events of Lost Light and broken up by time periods/major events. I have lots of notes and explanations for almost every single song under the cut (fair warning it is LONG, so only look at the stuff under the cut if you're interested or you'll be scrolling for a while). Please feel free to chat w me about any of it bc I am so very passionate. Cover art is also mine!

PRE-WAR/DEAD END 1. Bug Like an Angel - Mitski 2. Junkie Church - AJJ 3. Cocaine Jesus - RKS -honestly can also double for when Drift is in exile. I feel like it's super applicable thinking about his friends from Dead End and his general situation, but also later after he leaves the LL and is thinking about Rodimus 4. Camisado - P!ATD -who tf is caring about the guttermechs? Again, this would also be a good Deadlock song 5. Runs in the Family - Amanda Palmer (sorry ik I also hate her) 6. Brand New City - Mitski -what can I say, Megatron gave him purpose DRIFT, MEET RATCHET 7. Wretch - Autoheart -Specifically when Drift meets Ratchet in the Dead End clinic on Rodion 8. Underground - Cody Fry 9. Back To Life - Mother Mother -This feels very.... mmm Dead End to me. Very "fuck you, I'll do what I want" 10. Arms Tonite - Mother Mother 11. LIE WITH WOLVES - The Dogs on Shepard Street -”I’ll see you in my brothers, I’ll see you in the end” -”lie with dogs and you’ll get fleas. Lie with wolves and you’ll get teeth” DECEPTICON DEADLOCK 12. The Killing Type - Amanda Palmer (sorry againnnn) -I know he didn't exactly feel... bad? while he was first joined up. Just indulge me here 13. Cirice - Ghost -Megatron is Very Convincing. I'd revolt too. 14. Washing Machine Heart - Mitski -unfortunately, I read a great fic where Deadlock and Megatron kinda had smth going during the earlier war days and this song just feels Right. -Additionally, fitting for post-exile abt Roddy 15. Nicotine - P!ATD -see above 16. War Pigs/Luke’s Wall - Black Sabbath -”Politicians hide themselves away. They only started the war, why should they go out and fight?” 17. King For A Day - Pierce The Veil 18. Black Sheep - Dorothy 19. Girl is a Gun - Halsey -also one of my Starscream songs 20. Damonisch - TUYU -perfect fast-paced slasher 21. Set Me On Fire - Flyleaf 22. Cocoa Hooves - Glass Animals -cross-faction romance? on my playlist? -"You never fight back"... oh like a Medic? Who's job is healing regardless of alignment? 23. Lay All Your Love On Me - ABBA -see above 24. Headlock - Imogen Heap -”got your heart in a [Dead]lock”? Sorry that was SO cheesy 25. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Set It Off 26. Punk Tactics - Joey Valence & Brae 27. Centuries - FoB -oooooh the DJD wants you so bad 28. Little Pistol - Mother Mother -maybe having little change of heart? perhaps getting stuck with the Circle of Light?

FACTIONLESS ON EARTH/WRECKERS TIME 29. Liquid Smooth - Mitski 30. Hungover in the City of Dust - Autoheart 31. Clean - Woolbright 32. Impostor Syndrome - Sidney Gish -I really like the idea he learned a lot abt human culture and racing etc. on Earth. It was probably lonely, but he got a fresh start. 33. Being so Normal - Peach Pit  -Still, it must be hard being so far removed from the settings you've known all your life 34. Daniel In The Den - Bastille -maybe both sides are flawed and people are complicated 35. The Distance - Cake -specifically about his drag racing days, ik it’s a little out of place, but it fits well w the songs after DRIFT DEFECTS/AUTOBOT DRIFT/MTMTE 36. Crusader - Stevie Howie -mmmm yes some good rock 37. Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin 38. This Is Why We Fight - The Decemberists 39. Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives -certainly, he has some conflicting feelings about his new “allies” DRATCHET MTMTE 40. Oxford Blood - Autoheart -ESPECIALLY early Dratchet where they weren't quite together, but they were close pre-EOS 41. Body Terror Song - AJJ -look, ik Drift takes care of himself Now, but he certainly didn't always and I'm sure there was some lasting damage -I also like to hc he kept his 'con claws as a reminder of who he was before. I assume Autbots wouldn't look upon that too favorably 42. A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosier -ooooh Ratchet wants to fix him so bad 43. The Soldiering Life - The Decemberists - I have a LOT to say about this. I know Drift and Ratchet didn't exactly serve together (except kinda in All Hail Megatron). Still, just listen to it and you will Understand. EXILE 44. Which Witch - Florence + The Machine -”I’m on trial, waiting ‘til the beat comes out” -”Who’s a heretic now?” -It's Perfect. you just Know he was mad even with all the other mixed emotions 45. Sucker’s Prayer - The Decemberists -it’s really perfect for this period of time -”I was not ready for the road. I was so discontent to wear that heavy load” -”I wanna love somebody, but I don’t know how” 46. Losing my Religion - REM -oh Boy. Self explainatory. 47. Drop the Guillotine - Peach Pit -thinkin' about how Rodimus sold him out as a scapegoat. Was being captain that important? 48. Working for the Knife - Mitski 49. Cleopatra - The Lumineers -Drift realizing just how much he really liked Ratchet, how they practically started the Conjunx Ritus before he left without even realizing. -Insert Specralist guilt here 50. A Pearl - Mitski 51. Mr. Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

EMPIRE OF STONE 52. Heartbreaker - Autoheart -I'd be pretty emotional too if the person I loved most in the world, who I never confessed to, travelled across space to come bring me back home. Even more so when my Amica didn't even consider it. 53. Drop in the Ocean - Ron Pope 54. Someone To Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic 55. Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men 56. Sleep On The Floor - The Lumineers -"leave a note on your bed, let your mother know you're safe" that of write the new CMO a note and go get your soon-to-be husband 57. The Sailor Song -this is my CD/Rewind song, but it belongs here too. 58. Drops of Jupiter - Train -honestly, this is more about Ratchet than Drift, but it felt fitting 59. Fast Car - Tracy Chapman -"Anyplace is better; starting from 0 we got nothin to lose" 60. World War Me - Kind and Queen of the Losers -"so tell me, baby- will you love me if I lose? Will you love me even if I lose?" 61. G.I.N.A.S.F.S. - FoB 62. We Can Build A Fire - Autoheart -”Who in your right mind did you think you’d find- your guardian angel?” -this one was rly hard to place bc it could go so many places POST EOS DRATCHET 63. Benjamin Alphabet - Super Whatevr -healing together takes time and energy! 64. You are the Moon - The Hush Sound 65. Me and My Husband - Mitski -with a positive interpretation, minimal angst intended -even when your best friend writes you off, you'll still always have your grumpy husband 66. Soul Meets Body - Death Cab for Cutie -the Dratchet song ever 67. Sunlight -Spending thousands of years on a war that did nothing but cause pain and suffering really makes a person think about how valuable enduring love and devotion are 68. Female Doctor - Miniature Tigers 69. I’ll Rust With You - Steam Powered Giraffe 70. Laughter Lines - Bastille -this will make me SOB if I think about it too long. GEN/LOST LIGHT 71. Calamity Song - The Decemberists 72. Angel With a Shotgun - The Cab -see Lost Light #1 73. How Far We've Come - Matchbox Twenty 74. Moscow - Autoheart -my Lost Light anthem!! 75. In Our Bedroom After the War - Stars -"at least the war is over" 76. I'm Still Standing - Elton John -boy isn't he 77. I Know The End - Phoebe Bridgers 78. Life Eternal - Ghost -yeah. all of this. 79. Bitter Water - The Oh Hellos

[bouncybongfairy]

Hellooo Could I request for Felix Catton please? Where’s maybe Oliver is so obsessed with Felix’s girlfriend, the reader to the point where he killed her because “if I can’t have you, no one can” troupe and all and like then Felix witnessed it and all angsty sad thingy so sorry if’s dark but thank youu so muchh 🥰🥰✨💖

Till Death

Oliver Quick x Fem Reader

Summary: After you and Felix starting going out, Oliver began developing an unhealthy infatuation with you. Anytime someone laid their eyes or hands on you, it made him feral. One night at a party he finally caves in to his depraved urges.

Word Count: 3.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Stalking Kink, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, CNC Kink, Nasty Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was the beginning of the spring semester at Oxford University. Everyone seemed to be in a joyous mood, coming back from Christmas break completely decked out in mommy and daddy’s money. Grades are reset and all your friends are saying “I think a 7am lecture every Wednesday and Friday will be refreshing” or “I'm actually going to keep up with my canvas discussion questions this time around.” The best parties of the year are during spring semester, because everyone's stress levels are relatively low. Oliver was planning on heading to a house party with you and Felix. Both of you were friends before Felix and you got together so you two always invited him out when partying. Oliver always obliged in these invites but not for the sake of friendship. He liked keeping tabs on you, watching you get drunker and drunker. You were such a know it all in class, always raising your hand. Yearning to be a teacher's pet, going the extra mile to be the perfect student. Seeing you at night gave Oliver a high stronger than any bump he could take. Watching that innocent good girl facade fade away with the more wild you became after getting intoxicated drove him crazy. 

It made him furious when he saw the way Felix handled you, he was so sweet and gentle. It was so obvious that you craved a stronger hand. Wanting so badly for anyone to dominate and to remind you of your purpose. The way you flaunt your body around, practically begging to be shoved to the ground and taught how to act properly. Currently all three of you are getting ready in the dorm Felix and Oliver shared. You were in the bathroom leaning over the sink, your hips pressed against the edge. Your mouth was hanging open while applying mascara, Oliver was watching while making small talk with Felix. Who had his face buried deep in his closet looking for something to wear. Everytime you leaned closer to the mirror the oversize shirt you wore rose up, revealing your panty line. 

“Maybe just a polo, nothing too crazy,” he said, pulling out two options. 

“How much time before we go!” you called out from the bathroom.

“10 minutes!” Oliver replied. 

“Shit!” you gasped, rushing to finish. Felix was completely distracted, putting his shoes on and getting his things together. His phone went off every five seconds, after a while he finally went to see what all the buzz was about. 

“Fuck, Mason asked me to pick up a few bottles. Oliver, will you stay and walk with her and I'll meet the two of you there?” he asked. 

“Of course, see you there mate,” Oliver held back a scoff, Felix was such an idiot. Leaving you there for him to do… well, whatever he felt like. 

You kissed Felix goodbye and unraveled the hot rollers out of your hair. Fluffing it out before circling hairspray around it. Applying the last few touches like lip gloss and perfume. It was around 11pm and the weather outside was nippy. You being half dressed were feeling the effects of this quite viciously. The two of you were making small talk, mostly about the weather or school. Oliver didn’t give a fuck about what you were going on about. He was using it as an excuse to watch you, shiver and shake. The way your teeth were chattering together was driving him insane. The house wasn’t even a mile from campus but your heels were slowing the both of you down a bit. Like a wounded little animal hobbled by the wolf chasing it. This hummored him, thinking about how this would look if you were alone. The street lamps shining down, the light reflecting off your tan moisturized legs. Your lustrous jewelry also catches some of that light, practically calling wandering eyes to your body. Speaking of, your body was barely covered. Wearing a tube dress that barely covered your upper thighs. The material was cotton which meant it hugged you tightly. Fuck, he felt like he could see your goosebumps through it when he looked hard enough. He hated that Felix didn’t correct any of this. If you were his, he’d never let you walk about like that, any guy they passed had his eyes on you. Focusing in like you were their prey, it made his heart race. Bubbling with anger and jealousy, wanting to rip their throats out because he knew what they were thinking. Finally getting to the party, Felix was already a couple shots in, obviously his side quest went a bit off  the rails. Giving you a quick kiss before going back to entertaining ‘the boys’ who were quite sweet on him. Annoyed by the lack of attention, you poured an overly generous amount of liquor into your cup and headed into the living room. Where the speakers were blaring and a large group of people were dancing all together. 

Oliver sat on the couch, plastic cup in hand watching you. At first, your moves were more reserved. Keeping to yourself, dancing next to people rather than on them. As you suck down your liquor, your moves are becoming less modest. Now dancing against your friend, her manicured fingers gripping your hips. Oliver didn’t drink anything from his cup yet, he didn’t want to lose too much control over himself. Nor did he want anything to impair the focus he had on you. Sweat was starting to bead on your body and your dress was riding up. He liked noticing all these little things about you, the shift in your demeanor and attitude once you were drunk. Normally you were sweet-mannered and shy but when you were fucked up, you were more bratty and vulgar. Not afraid of acting out, practically screaming for someone to put you in check. He ripped his eyes off you and looked over into the kitchen. Seeing Felix down another shot, eyes practically drifted in two different directions. His girl who was way out of his league is half naked and drunk surrounded by wandering hands. He was so oblivious and stupid. Looking back your direction and his jaw dropped. You were standing right above him, hovering over where he was sitting on the couch. 

“Why don’t you ever dance?” you ask him. 

“Hmmm?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear you.

“Any time you come with us to a party, you never get like -hiccup- get crazy,” you say, sinking down to sit next to him. Now whispering in his ear whenever you spoke. 

“I do, I just pace myself,” he leaned in. 

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” you giggled, pulling a joint out from behind your ear. 

“You’re sparking up here?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow. 

“You gonna stop me?” you asked, smirking and lighting it. 

He felt all the blood in his brain rush down towards his dick. Almost lunging at you, like it was the perfect invitation to finally break you down. Your charm bracelet jingling everytime you bring it to your mouth for a drag. He chuckled to himself, remembering how just hours earlier you were eagerly raising your hand, hogging the attention from the teacher. Beaming every time she reaffirmed your answers, ‘amazingly accurate’ or ‘well done’ things like that that made you practically jump with joy. Now you were double fisting and practically sitting in your boyfriend’s mate’s lap. He was at his breaking point, feeling like his entire body was on fire. Like every atom and cell in his body was pushing him to take you. 

“Maybe we can get out of here? The air is starting to feel sticky,” Oliver says, standing up. 

“Oh of course! I was starting to feel the same way, especially after dancing,” you said, standing up and following him. Holding on to his belt loop, letting him lead you out of the house. 

Once the two of you finally got outside, your body was having a sublime reaction. Due to you being hot and sweaty, the cold weather outside was causing water vapor to come off your body. Oliver could feel his mouth salivating, watching you hands shake and you brought the joint to your mouth. You offered him a hit several times but he declined, enjoying watching you become high out of your mind. Making drunken conversation as you walked, digging into your purse and looking for your pen after the joint was smoked down to the crutch. It wasn’t until you started walking that you realized how fucked up you were. Even when you really try to keep your balance, you’d sway and wobble from time to time. Looking at your phone, checking the stats on your recent post. So preoccupied in your own little world that you didn’t notice Oliver was no longer with you. Dropping your phone into your purse and looking around, calling out to him. The street no longer looked safe and quaint. After standing there doing circles trying to locate him, you gave up and started the walk home. Or at least back to their dorm room. Clutching your purse and trying to fight through the pain your heels were giving you. 

Oliver was watching from about fifteen or twenty feet behind you. Seeing you look around with that unsure and scared expression on your face. Eyebrows furrowed and your eyes wide and glossy. Stumbling over your own feet as you walked around in circles looking for him: completely defenseless. You dropped your pen and bent down to get it, unknowingly exposing your backside to him. As you walked you kept pulling your dress down, the cold starting to get to you. He continued to follow, hiding in plain sight like in front of a parked car or mailbox. You were beginning to feel paranoid, hearing leafs crunching or being spooked by dogs barking. Pulling out your phone and ringing Oliver, frustration and uncertainty written all over your face. Amused and aroused by your fear, he would throw a pebble in your direction. It hit your heel and made you jump and fall onto the ground. The road did a number on your knees, both of them now bloody and dripping down your shin. Now crying, feeling overwhelmed and frightened. Oliver had to hide his smirk as he came over to ‘rescue’ you.

“Where did you go! I literally fell!” You cried, reaching out for him to help you up. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how we got separated- here let me carry you back yeah?” he asks with a sickeningly patronizing tone. 

“Really?” you asked even though he was already picking you up. His cock was throbbing while looking down on you. Mascara running down your face, teeth chattering and bleeding like a hurt little bunny. He carried you the rest of the way bridal style. Resting your head on his shoulder, complaining about your knees everyone in a while. It wasn’t long until the two of you finally made it back. He lets you stand up but once you put your weight on your legs you start wobbling, using him to support yourself. He grabs your forearm quite roughly and pulls you inside. You were confused as to why he was being a little aggressive but brush it off. Walking over to Felix’s bed and plopping down, finally taking your heels off. Oliver locked the door and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. Taking notice of this, you start to question him, 

“How will Felix let himself in?” you ask. 

“Enough of that. Pretending you care about him,” he said, turning to face you. 

“I don’t- I care about him,” you say with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’re in denial or just too prideful to accept it but you don’t care about him. You think he’s stupid and want more. It’s okay, just admit it,” he says, walking slowly towards you. 

“Why are you acting like this?” you asked, confused to where this was coming from. 

“Me acting like what? Calling you out on a fact? You’re one of those girls who likes to think she’s confident and calling the shots at all times. In reality all you really want is someone to turn your brain off. Take complete control over you and fuck you until you fall apart. Completely brain dead, only worry being when a cock is shoved in your stupid fucking throat,” he said. Tears stinging your eyes, and insecurity flooding your mind as he continued, 

“Would a girlfriend who cares about her boyfriend leave him at the party without even checking on him? Simply to go home early with his best friend to get fucked into the matress,” you said, now hovering above where you were sitting on the bed. 

“Not. True.” You said, crossing your arms. 

“No? So you wouldn’t mind if I see how wet you are? I have a feeling you’re soaking through your panties as we speak,” he said, getting on his knees. In your head you wanted to immediately reject him, but in your gut you didn’t want to stop him. It was true, you did want someone who was rougher with you. That’s not only aroused but not scared by the concept of hurting you. 

“I mean if you don’t want me to please, feel free to stop me,” he said, resting one hand on your knee and the other slowly sliding down your thigh towards your pussy. 

You felt like a whore, knowing that you should be stopping him. Shamefully justifying this betrayal with the fact that you haven’t had gratifying sex for a while. Felix was of course dominant and it wasn’t that he sucked at fucking or anything. It was just that he didn’t really understand the whole mental side of it. Also he didn’t want to hurt you. Whenever you made the suggestion of slapping you in the face or choking you a little past your limit, he got nervous. Never really doing these actions with full commitment. The tips of his fingers began to trace your slit, as predicted you’d completely soaked the lace material. Finding a weak spot in the lace material, he uses his fingers and rips a hole. You gasp and go to press your legs together; he moves his hands to your knees, stopping you from closing your legs. His hands were stinging the scraps, you grip onto his hair from both pain and pleasure. Ripping and pulling at the strands as hard as you can. Oliver kept looking up, watching your mouth hang open and the most pornographic moans slipping out. Pulling out the whore he knew you were deep down inside, feeling powerful knowing he was doing what Felix could never. Pulling his hair so damn hard was only building onto the pent up anger and jealousy he had over you. He pulled back, saliva and wetness dripping down his chin. Looking down at you, completely deranged and desperate.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. As you went to respond, he shoved his bloodied fingers into your mouth. Pressing your tongue down, pushing his digits down your throat. You gagged which caused him to laugh before continuing. 

“What was that?” he teased, becoming more aggressive. His index and pinky finger were pressed against your cheeks, his nails scratching you. 

Finally pulling out and smacking you with the same hand. Even though you were drunk and high off weed and adrenaline, that took you off guard. It burned and the fact that his hand was soaked in your saliva and blood felt embarrassing or humiliating; maybe a bit of both. It made you overwhelmed with turmoil. Something that should be so shameful left you wanting more. Longing for something more painful and intense. The rush and exhilaration of pushing the limits of your emotional and physical boundaries was like a drug you never had before. He grabbed your hair and forced you to the ground, onto your knees. You winced as you fell to the ground, eyebrows furrowing and a moan coming out of your mouth. 

“Aww does that hurt?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Smacking his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum over your mouth for a while.

“You deaf? Answer the fucking question,” he said, grabbing onto your hair with both hands. 

Feeling like this was a trick question, your instinct was to stay quiet. He yanked your hair, showing that he was becoming impatient with your stubbornness. When you open your mouth to answer, he shoves his cock down your throat. Being merciless with his pace, pounding into your mouth, having no regard for your feelings; and you were loving every second of it. Oliver was noticing you were finding a bit too much pleasure in this. Arching your back and rocking your head back and forth. Looking down he sees your hands on the floor supporting yourself. He steps on them, slowly putting more and more weight down and trapping you to the floor. Panic started to set in once you tried pulling your hands away and couldn't. He gathered most of your hair into one hand and used his other to cover your nose. Completely blocking your airway. Oliver watched your eyes widen and your face become beat red from a lack of oxygen. Every time you pulled at your hands or gagged around his cock he would twitch and moan. 

“Don’t pass out on me yet, be the good little slut you are and hold on a little longer,” he said, shaking your head by the nose when he noticed your eyes getting glossy and foggy. He finally pulled away, you were sucking in deep breaths. Slowly coming to and he picks you up and lets you fall on the bed. 

“Sorry love, I just needed you more pliable for what’s next,” he said, pulling out his pocket knife. 

He flips you over onto your knees, shoulders pressed against the mattress. Again, not having any regard for you, he shoves himself into your dripping cunt. Fucking into you slowly, you thought he was being gentle after how aggressive he was being. In reality he is scoping out a good place to carve his initials onto your ass. Using the tip of the blade to make the first mark, you screamed. Not expecting the sudden sting. The entire time he was creating a slit in your skin he would degrade and tease you. Acting sympathetic but really just getting off on owning and marking your body as his. Making you fear and worship him in the sickest way possible. The panic and fear in your scream going straight to his dick, not being able to control the erratic rhythm of his thrusts. He admired his initials becoming less legible due to the blood starting to cover it. He added a few random slash marks on the other ass check, just so the other cuts wouldn’t get lonely. Dropping the knife onto the floor and playing with your ass as he fucked into you. Spanking you causing the blood to fly around, onto your lower back and his face. Once he was done playing, he flipped you around onto your back. You looked smashed, like a hot fucking mess. Seeing how brain dead and broken you were was sending him off the edge. Wrapping his bloody hands around your neck as he came in you. Finally claiming your body, showing you the true purpose of your mouth and pussy. He got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. Smirking as he washed the blood off his face and body. Felix walked in, completely drunk and high out of his mind. On top of that, in shock from seeing your body on the bed, bruised and covered in blood. Screaming and crying attempting to wake you. In so much shock he didn’t even notice Oliver walk out, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Fucking idiot,” he scoffed.

[delurkr]

May and Ada, 1858

Whaaaat actual progress on drawing the Tilly Johnson era??? I thought we'd never see the day these two got posted, especially after the first version I had started over a year ago up and vanished and I had to start all over...

That aside, we have Ada Johnson, twin sister of Phineas Johnson and aunt to Tilly, with little May, who exists in the gray area between Ada's adopted daughter and housegirl (live-in servant) at the point in time when people were just starting to try to figure out how fostering and adoption should work. Ada is a weaver, having inherited that side of a long-standing family linen business while her other brother Jesse has the farming side, but, between her own failing health (think COPD although they didn’t have that term) and the Carvers' nearby cotton mill and many other mills like it crowding out the local linen industry, the Johnson business has been struggling to survive for many years.

Ada is also the owner of what became known as the Tilly Johnson House. Ada, May, Tilly, and Tilly's step-father all lived there together by 1856 (that lore will surface eventually), and as we know 1856 was the year Tilly's novel was published and became famous, which made enough money to keep all the Johnsons secure despite their failing business.

On to the art, I won't go over everything but as usual I'll point some things out starting with May:

The pattern on her dress has elements from all the M's, first with nods to the little girl's plaid and Megan's floral as well as the little girl's red, Megan's light blue, and more subtly Mary's dark brown. The 1850s adored plaid so that was a no-brainer, and I hadn't planned on the floral part, but then I saw the dress in this portrait with a great mix of both patterns in the colors I was after so I worked off that.

M's peter pan collar and long sleeves are ofc her staples but while they wouldn't be out of place in 1858 (except that this is set in the summertime and girls predominantly wore short sleeves) I figured I'd go with styles more typical for children's clothing this time. The two parts are not related by the way; the collar is an interchangeable piece sewn into the dress, and the undersleeves are from her chemise (the base layer of female undergarments).

Part of May's role is to serve as an errand girl in the Johnson business, where she goes back and forth between the house in town and the farm on the outskirts. That has an important part in the story, hence the basket I gave her.

Also note the piecing of her dress fabric up by the shoulders, included just for funsies. Cloth was not to be wasted, so it was not uncommon or frowned upon to more or less carefully piece odd-shaped sections of cloth together to squeeze as much out the fabric as possible, even when it meant putting random seams in conspicuous places and even if the pattern didn't quite match up.

Ada:

She's wearing a one-piece wrapper, which was the unstructured in-between sort of garment a woman would wear in the morning when she wakes up to get stuff done around the house before she gets dressed for the day. A sick person who didn't get out of the house much might have worn one throughout the day, which is Ada's case since she is chronically ill. (They weren't necessarily as short as I made hers but they were very casual and I wanted to draw 1850s cloth shoes my beloveds, these in particular having similarities to Angela’s two-tone oxfords). It made a perfect equivalent to Anne's housecoat, especially with quilted trim inspired by this extant wrapper. And ofc it’s done in horizontal stripes like Angela’s shirt, and it has shades of brown, blue, and a version of pink, adjacent to canon A-ladies’ colors.

Her chatelaine✨ Basically a clip that was worn on a belt with chains suspending various items that were useful to have on hand. They have a long history and were popular for women to wear at home as well as in certain occupations. I was very excited to give her one after I took notice of the purse Amy has on her belt.

She is wearing an indoors day cap (not a bonnet), a relatively simple one similar to Amy's bonnet. This era was the last hurrah for women wearing headgear at home and only older women were still doing it.

And lastly, her hexagon eyeglasses✨✨ You see them every so often in antique photos and I'm a big fan.

Here are the other drawings I've done for this set so far:

1858 Tilly Johnson (I'm going to do this one over eventually but that's the old version for now)

1846 Phineas and Tilly Johnson

1858 Mona and Solomon Carver

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Drove over 2 hours yesterday in a rain storm and horrible traffic, and then two more hours back home, to see Helen Zaltzman, and God, was that ever worth it. She's so great. What an excellent woman. That's what I said to my mother, who came with me to the show, as we left the venue. An excellent woman. My mother agreed.

In a really weird way, this felt like the closest I've come so far to attending, in person, one of those artsy Fringe-y shows from the peak Chocolate Milk Gang era, that I romanticize so much. I've heard stories about Josie Long and Helen Zaltzman doing shows together when they came out of Oxford, where they'd sew live on stage, and other things like that that I believe their people would describe with the word "twee". Twee even by CMG standards, possibly. And I'd love to have seen that kind of thing.

The show I saw last night was in a small intimate venue, with artsy vintage-like decor and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and Helen Zaltzman told stories, accompanied by her husband playing very gentle guitar and singing songs, and a screen behind her with a slideshow to illustrate her words, which looked like it had been put together with MS Paint. The stories were sweet and gently funny and emotional and extremely niche. Fucking perfect.

I don't want to be too patronizing toward that stuff, reducing it to being just cute and artsy. It was also intelligently written, carefully put together, captivatingly performed, and genuinely interesting. It was a lot of stuff about etymology, and then at the end there was a genuinely beautiful and emotional piece about a font, and my mother and I have both worked as editors (by which I mean, my mother has built a decades-long impressive career as a very meticulous and well-respected editor, and for a few years in my late 20s I managed to just barely pay my bills by piecing together freelance editing jobs for a tiny fraction of what she charges), so it was cool to sit next to her as we watched that. My mother and I are two of the only people I know who have typeface and linguistics as an area of nerdy interest.

It was just such a nice show, it felt like it was created with so much care and experience and passion, by someone who's learned how to do this so well over many years, and yet it felt very clear that the woman on that stage in Montreal was the same as the Oxford student who sewed on stage at silly gigs in like 2005, or whenever that was. There was so much attention to detail, the soundscape with the music and sound effects, the silly act-outs, the way themes came together. It was so cool. What an excellent woman.

Tonight, I'm going to a local comedy club with a friend of my friend who lives in London, because he's visiting my city, and I've never met him before but he goes to see stand-up shows with my friend in London, and that friend put us in touch so that I can show him the stand-up scene around here. The comedy club we're going to is... I mean, it's one step up from the other comedy club in the city, which John Hastings once described, on the ComCom podcast, as "the Jongleurs of Canada". The one we're going to is the one that didn't get called the Jongleurs of Canada, it's better than that. But it's not a lot better than that. The comedy I'll see tonight is going to be very different from the show I saw last night, and well below the standards of someone used to London comedy. But a friend of mine is on the bill tonight and she's pretty cool, so at least one act will be good. We'll see how the others go.

I went out to a local comedy night last week - not at one of the clubs, just the open spot pub nights that I tend to like better because at least the atmosphere is fun even if most of the comedy's not great (and to be fair, some of the local comedians are good - but a lot of the more interesting/creative ones don't get booked at the clubs), and a guy there was saying how he recently opened for a comedian who was doing: "More of a one-man show that stand-up. There were, like, musical elements. I think he's trying to put all his routines together so he can sell it to theatres and things. It was pretty weird but all right, I guess." So that's the standard of comedy around here; anything that gets too close to a coherent hour is weird and not really stand-up. Alt-comedy is if you bring up a slightly nerdy subject in your set. Literally not one single person in the local scene has ever made a fabric craft on stage.

[montammil]

ouu! for those requests, can we see a super sick sawyer being taken care of by rowan? 🫶 (up to you if he's sick bc sawyer poisoned him or if it's something he got on his own :3c )

TW: Intentional poisoning of food (nothing lethal), vomiting, creepy/intimate whumper, creepy comfort, captivity, non-sexual nudity

...

Rowan was getting tired, to be frank.

Sawyer's defiance had been getting worse instead of improving, much to Rowan's growing irritation. He thought after enough punishment, Sawyer would begin to learn his lesson and eventually obey, but his misbehavior and impudent attitude remained staunch in place. Not only that, but it was getting far more obvious with each passing day.

Despite Sawyer's attitude, Rowan did feel more optimistic each day at work, every time he needed to go to the office.

Sure, he still hated leaving the house (more importantly, Sawyer), but he felt in a much more chipper mood now that he wouldn't have to return to an empty home.

He would never again go back to that lonely, depressing life.

Soon enough, Sawyer would come to his senses and allow himself to be cared for and loved. Rowan just had to be patient, surely. Who in their right mind would continue to deny a life of luxury and romance? It'd be ridiculous.

No matter how stubborn Sawyer was, even he had his breaking point somewhere within. And once it's breached... everything would finally fall into its perfect place, where Sawyer could be happy to spend his time with Rowan.

When he got home, he shucked off his oxfords and placed them carefully by the door, straightening them out. He then slid the briefcase from his shoulder and set it aside, loosening his tie as he went into their bedroom.

He heard pained coughing when he entered the room, and saw Sawyer laying on the bed curled up in the fetal position, sniffling softly.

"Sawyer? Darling..." Rowan frowned down at him, sitting himself on the edge of the bed and feeling his forehead. He felt incredibly warm and a bit damp too.

Sawyer looked at him silently, his face scrunched up from the pain he was enduring. His nose was red and irritated, skin hot to the touch, dark circles around his eyes indicating lack of sleep.

"You must be sick, poor thing... don't worry, I'll get you some medicine," Rowan kissed his head, going off to search through his bathroom cabinets.

He always stocked up on medicine for flu and fever season, so he knew he should have some left.

When he came back with a bottle of cold and flu medication, he shook out a couple pills in his palm and filled a cup of water in the kitchen sink, returning to Sawyer's side.

"Here, love. Can you sit up for me? Just need to take this medicine, alright?" Rowan hummed quietly, setting the medicine and glass of water on the nightstand before turning to assist Sawyer in getting upright.

The raven haired man groaned weakly as he got lifted into a half sitting position, accepting the medication from Rowan and gulping down the pills along with some water.

Once that was taken care of, Rowan wiped the wet bangs from his forehead and pecked his burning temple.

"My poor darling... I know what will help you feel better. Do you want me to make some soup?"

"Stay away," Sawyer hoarsely mumbled. "I'll get you sick."

Rowan's frown split into a grin. How sweet he was to think of him like that! He hated to admit it, but he couldn't deny he liked Sawyer's sudden change in behavior.

Now if only he could act like this all the time instead of being uncooperative and difficult.

"Oh, sweetheart," He leaned in to press kisses against his forehead again, wrapping his arms around him, stroking his fingers through his hair. "It's okay, I don't mind at all. I'm here to take care of you. Let me do my job..."

"But—"

"Shhh," Rowan gently hushed, brushing a thumb over his lips. "None of that. Don't strain yourself any further. Please, let me get you some soup. I don't like seeing you in such misery like this." He kissed Sawyer's warm cheek and laid him back down, bringing the comforter over his body. "I'll be right back. Not one step out of bed, alright?"

"...Alright..."

After finding his apron and tying it neatly around his waist, he headed off into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator to find vegetables and broth he had saved for dinner later on.

As he prepared Sawyer's soup, he heard loud coughing erupt from the bedroom.

He sighed to himself. Maybe leaving him in the cold shed really had been pushing it too far... but what else was he supposed to do with Sawyer's continued resistance?

What more would it take for his sweetheart to realize it was all hopeless? He had faith that soon enough Sawyer would learn to trust him.

Maybe this was the final push he needed.

"On second thought, 'm not that hungry."

Rowan turned around to see Sawyer standing in the hallway of the kitchen, swaying dangerously on his feet as if he'd trip any moment.

He dropped what he was doing, quickly striding over to hold Sawyer before he stumbled.

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to stay in bed," Rowan reprimanded firmly, looking into Sawyer's glazed eyes. Sawyer only grumbled an incoherent noise. Rowan clicked his tongue and led him over to the couch, placing him there while he went to fetch some blankets. "Just can't sit still for a minute, can you?" Rowan returned with a large quilt in tow, tucking Sawyer inside and making sure he was wrapped snugly in it.

Sawyer sniffed for the seemingly millionth time. "'M fine."

"I'm sure you are," Rowan spoke in a mocking tone, kissing his sweaty forehead, "My poor baby... just can't stay put for even a second. Here, wait." He went back to finish heating the soup and poured some in a bowl, taking care to blow on it before carrying it back over to the couch. "Open up."

"I don't—"

"Ah-ah, I know what you're going to say. Open."

Sawyer opened his mouth reluctantly, letting Rowan spoonfeed him bits of broth. After a while though, he did refuse to eat any more when he suddenly covered his mouth with his hand and swallowed thickly.

"Noo, please, my love. Can't you finish the rest of the bowl? It'll be so good for you," Rowan pleaded, trying to coax Sawyer into finishing.

"Feel too sick..." Sawyer hid his face in his sleeve in a desperate attempt to hide his tears, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. His breathing began to pick up and shudder.

"Oh... oh no, oh baby, hey, hey... look at me... it's okay," Rowan whispered to him. "Come here, come here..." He set the bowl aside and crawled onto the sofa, gathering Sawyer into his arms and rubbing his back. Sawyer started to sob. "Hush, hush... you did nothing wrong," Rowan shushed. "You were so brave for me, love, so brave. There's no need to be upset."

While this was breaking his heart, he also couldn't help but feel thrilled. This was a drastic change compared to how Sawyer used to behave. It was so incredibly refreshing.

"It hurts," Sawyer rasped.

"Where does it hurt?"

"My throat, and— and my stomach. And I feel so gross and sweaty, but I'm so cold."

"How about a nice bath?" Rowan offered. "Hmm? A lukewarm one, maybe?" Sawyer shrugged his shoulders, which Rowan took as a yes. "Up we go now," He muttered while shifting Sawyer in his hold. He was glad he started working out more before he took Sawyer in. All those exercises and diets were paying off well.

He managed to scoop him up into a bridal carry and stood from the couch carefully. They made it all the way to the bathtub successfully and he eased Sawyer down onto the closed lid of the toilet.

Sawyer instinctively looked away when he saw Rowan undressing. "You're getting in, too?"

Rowan smiled. "Can't a man bathe with his husband?" Sawyer didn't comment on how they weren't even boyfriends, much less husbands. Rowan stepped closer and stripped Sawyer of his clothing until he was completely nude. "I won't try anything, if that's what you're worried about. Unless you want me to." He winked.

Even Rowan knew his answer was obvious, so Sawyer didn't bother replying other than with an unamused frown.

When Rowan was done filling the tub with the appropriate amount of water, he slipped in and then beckoned Sawyer over with both hands. Sawyer climbed in, cringing when Rowan pulled him close and trapped him within his arms.

"Why is the water cold?" Sawyer grunted.

"We don't want you getting warmer," Rowan informed him, moving aside and returning with a bar of soap. "I take cold showers every morning, so I'm used to it."

Sawyer huffed. He thought kidnapping was proof enough that Rowan was insane, cold showers in the morning though? Now he knew he was insane.

"Why?" he asked, only to distract himself from the skin-to-skin contact. "Is there a reason for it or do you just want to torture yourself?" He felt Rowan's chuckle reverberate through his chest.

"It actually does have many health benefits. It improves your circulation, mood, sleep, and is healthier for your hair and skin," Rowan claimed. "Though if you want to ever join me, I'm more than happy to make the shower as hot as you want it." Sawyer remained silent. Rowan continued to scrub him down, along with his hair. "After this, I'll make you some tea and you can get some sleep. I'll take a few days off work just to make sure you get better."

Sawyer suppressed a scoff. "You don't have to do that, I'll be fine—"

"Oh, hush. Of course I have to do that. You know I can't bear to be without you for even a little while. I'll hop at any excuse to take work off for you." The water sloshed lightly when Rowan shifted around, pouring water over Sawyer's head to rinse him.

For the next few minutes, Sawyer spaced out, that when he became aware of his surroundings again, he was already sitting in bed bundled under two large blankets and wearing warm clothes.

He felt the heat of a cup being pressed against his palms and blinked away the dizziness when he took a sip of what was given to him, tasting herbal tea with a hint of lemon and honey.

After that, he fell asleep with Rowan wrapping an arm around him securely, like he had to be afraid Sawyer was going to disappear at any moment.

When Sawyer woke up the next day, he immediately noticed a body curled behind him, and there was something heavy on top of his hip. Casper was resting on him and purring loudly when he saw that Sawyer was awake.

Sawyer went to pet him, then felt a wave of nausea overcome him. He leapt out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom, lifting the lid and spilling whatever he could muster out of his insides and into the toilet.

He didn't realize he was crying again until a thumb brushed the tears away from his cheeks while fingers gently pulled his hair out of his face.

Rowan rubbed circles over his back with his free hand. "There we go. Let it all out, love."

Soon enough, Sawyer finished expelling the contents of his stomach and slumped into the strong arms awaiting him. "Fuck," he whispered. His throat burned and felt raw.

He made small shushing sounds, guiding Sawyer back to bed and tucking him in.

Sawyer was past the point of caring about his own humiliation by now. He buried his face in Rowan's stomach once Rowan sat down on the bed and closed his legs around him.

"So clingy today," Rowan chuckled. He sounded more happy than worried, but Sawyer didn't even notice over the ringing in his ears. "Let me get you some more medicine first, then you can latch onto me."

"Nooooo..." Sawyer whined, nuzzling his abdomen like a cat. Rowan huffed out another laugh and simply reached into the nightstand's drawer to fetch the fever medicine, popping out a pill and grabbing the glass of water from now just a few hours ago.

After Sawyer swallowed both down again, he fell back asleep. Rowan couldn't stop smiling.

...

Just three days later, Sawyer was starting to improve. He wasn't slurring his words nearly as much, and his throat and stomach pain were only mild.

It was a (rare) good day for Sawyer, but for Rowan? Not so much.

He knew it was selfish, but he missed having Sawyer depending on him and needing constant care and attention.

As much as he wanted him healthy, he missed having Sawyer clinging onto him and acting like he needed Rowan for everything. It made his heart ache to know Sawyer would return to his regular behavior eventually... that it was only a matter of time before he ended up trying to escape again or denying his affection.

"More soup!" Rowan claimed. "Vegetable soup, to be specific."

Sawyer sighed. "I'll eat it, but then I want to be left alone."

"Sure, darling. What ever you say."

His tone wasn't sarcastic, but that's what made Sawyer more suspicious. Rowan never would've responded that way. He shrugged it off and sipped on his soup until it was all gone. The clock ticked silently as Rowan watched over him, smiling cheerily as if it were Christmas.

Sawyer gave the bowl to him and turned his back to close his eyes and get some more sleep.

Rowan left, still cheerful and bubbly. He was thankful he had decided to grow those irises in the backyard because it would work wonders with the soup. In more ways than one.

[4littlefishies]

The 36th Floor

Office worker Satoru Gojo finds himself stuck with the task of training his brand new coworker, but he doesn't know what to expect when he sees who he's supposed to be training. He can't fall in love with the man that sits in the cubicle across from him, right?

satoru gojo x suguru geto office au

warnings: nothing for this chapter, smut in later chapters!

wc: 6.6k

note: Hi all! Thought I'd start posting this on here as well. I always upload first on ao3, so if you wan't to keep updated, I'll put a link at the bottom! :) This is a non-curse non-jujutsu au because I enjoy writing fluff and happiness and crack and all the good stuff. <3

Monday Morning

Satoru Gojo opens his eyes as the sound of his alarm blares through his previously silent bedroom. His hands come up to rub the sleep out of his eyes as he sits up in his bed before grabbing at his phone to make the annoying sound of his alarm stop. He takes a couple deep breaths and sits with his eyes closed for a moment before he finally pushes the comforter to the side and shifts his legs off of the side of the bed. 

Standing up from the warmth of his bed, Satoru shivers as the cold air hits his skin. He makes his way to the bathroom to start the routine that he does every morning before work: Shower, brush his teeth, skincare, hair; in that order, five days a week, 12 months a year. He loved how the structure of his morning before work and getting to listen to music as he calmly got ready made his whole day feel better.

Afterwards, he would make his bed and head out to the kitchen to eat a quick breakfast, which typically consisted of a sugary cereal or some kind of fruit for on the go if he was in a hurry to leave - which unfortunately happened more often than not. Thankfully, today was one of the days where he had time to sit down at the counter and eat a proper breakfast.

Humming along with the music playing through his phone, he makes his way back into his room and steps into his closet. He pulls out a navy blue suit jacket and pants, along with a white button-up shirt for underneath and a tie to pull it all together. Satoru gets dressed and with his jacket folded over the side of his now neatly-made bed, he picks out a pair of brown oxfords and finally puts on his watch. 

The mirror by his bedroom door is the final step in his routine as he checks his reflection one last time before heading towards the front door. The blue of his eyes almost glow back at him as he looks over himself in the mirror, making sure his bright white hair looks decent before flicking off the lights and pulling on his jacket. He picks up his bag from the table next to the front door and grabs his keys out of the bowl, shoving them into his pocket. 

“See you when I get home, Shiro.” He whispers to the white cat, looking up at him with wide eyes from the couch. The cat makes a quiet noise that makes Satoru smile as he closes the front door behind him and checks that it’s locked before turning and walking down the hallway towards the elevator. 

Today was just another day for Satoru, a typical Monday morning. He would walk to the station not too far from his house and wait for the train along with everyone else also going to their 9-5 jobs in the city. He found joy in the time he got to listen to music on his commute and enjoyed seeing the same people he would see every morning. The man seated across the aisle from him would get off the stop before Satoru, every single morning. The woman a couple rows in front of him would get off the stop after he got on. 

Satoru liked to ponder and imagine what these strangers on the train were doing with their days. The scenarios in his head were probably much more exciting that what was actually going on in these people’s lives, but he would rather imagine that the stranger in the same black trench coat every day is actually a member of the Yakuza and not just an accountant or a lawyer or something normal. 

Before he knows it, the train is coming up to his stop. He stands up, stabilizing himself with one of the many hand holds as the train finally slows to a stop. The doors open and he steps off, walking in time with his music, his hands in his pockets as he walks out into the crisp morning air. The walk to his office is a short one, but he stops at the coffee shop in the lobby of the building as he does every morning.

“Good morning, Miwa!” He says in a singsong voice as he steps up to the counter. The young woman smiles and grabs a disgustingly sweet drink set to the side of the register that was just made for him. He picks it up and hands her twice as much cash as it actually costs before turning and swiftly walking towards the elevator. “You’re the best, Miwa!” He calls out over his shoulder as he rushes towards the closing elevator doors.

“Have a good day Gojo!” She calls out after him in response. He waves with a smile as he steps into the elevator. Just another part of his routine that makes his day even better. He takes a small sip of his still-too-hot coffee in the half full elevator and presses the button for floor 36. He readjusts his bag on his shoulder and pulls out his key card as the elevator makes stops at a few floors before he reaches his own. 

“Have a good day guys.” Satoru says as the elevator opens to his floor, resulting in a few quiet thank you’s and you too’s. Someone else steps off of the elevator at the same time as him and Satoru turns to notice that it’s his coworker, Shoko Ieiri. A surprised look crosses his face as he looks at her. “What the hell? I didn’t even notice you in there!” He says with a cheeky smile on his face as they walk down the hallway towards the glass door of their office. He holds his key card up to the side of the door before the lock clicks and he pulls the large glass door open, allowing Shoko inside first.

“Just say you don’t care about me, idiot.” She says, rolling her eyes with a smile, walking inside as Satoru holds the door open for her. The two of them head straight for the break room, Shoko puts her lunch box in the fridge, and Satoru grabs a strawberry-mango yogurt, along with a spoon. 

“Maybe you need to be more noticeable.” Satoru teases back at her. Shoko closes the fridge and glares up at him. The two of them have been friends since high school, which resulted in their sibling-like relationship that consisted of endless teasing and fake bullying.

“I got you hired here, I bet I could get you fired too, you know that right?” She says as they both turn to walk out of the break room to head to their cubicles, which luckily - or unluckily - were right next to each other. Satoru leans on the edge of Shoko’s cubicle as she sets her things down and tries to get adjusted.

“No way, Shoko. Nanami loves me.” He says, talking about their boss. She raises an eyebrow at him as he backs up into his cubicle across the aisle and sets his bag down on his desk. He puts his hands up, as if to say “I can’t help it” and sits down in his chair with a smile and turns to turn on his computer. 

The office is quiet with the chatter of everyone arriving for the morning along with the sounds of keyboards typing and mice clicking. Gojo starts with the normal morning things like checking his emails and then his planner to see what he has planned out for the day. “Shit.” He whispers, but still loud enough for Shoko to hear. 

“What’s your problem?” Shoko asks, not even turning her head away from her monitor to look at him. 

“They’re having me train someone new.” He says, sounding slightly annoyed. “I have so much to do already and they want me to train someone new?” He rubs his forehead and closes his eyes, thinking about how much more this is going to set him back. 

“If you need help with anything, just let me know.” She responds, trying to be helpful, all the while knowing that she would have no idea how to even do most of the things that Satoru does on a daily basis. 

“I just need to get as much done in this hour that I have before he gets here.” Satoru says, mostly to himself, but loud enough that Shoko hears.

“I have a meeting at 10, but I’ll be back after lunch if you need anything.” She adds, trying to be helpful and make him feel better about the day ahead.

“Thank you, Shoko, I appreciate it.” He says, starting to work on a presentation for when some of the higher ups from corporate were coming later in the month. He pops one headphone in, trying to get focused into his work to get as much done as possible in the shortest amount of time. 

Slowly but surely, Satoru’s coffee disappears and the strawberry-mango yogurt cup he had grabbed from the fridge is empty and long gone. His fingers type away quickly at his quiet keyboard as he fills the slides with information that he needs to get across to the corporate visitors. Sales had been great this year, and it was his responsibility to explain to the higher ups what their branch is doing right and things that they think could help other branches to do better.

An hour passes much more quickly than Satoru would have liked, but Shoko is gone to her meeting in one of the conference rooms and suddenly Satoru’s phone rings. He rarely used it to talk to anyone outside of the office, so he was not surprised to see the name Utahime Iori on the screen. He smiles and grabs it before answering sweetly.

“Why good morning Utahime.” He says nicely.

“Gojo, I just finished up paperwork with the new hire, so I’m just giving you a heads up that he’s on his way, okay?” She responds, trying to avoid conversation as much as possible.

“Not even a good morning back?” Satoru responds, sounding hurt, all the while he has a smile on his face. 

“Good morning.” She says, shortly. “He’s on his way, his name’s Suguru Geto. Bye.” She hangs up and the line goes blank.

“Hello? Utahime??” Satoru questions at the obviously ended phone call. He chuckles and hangs the phone back up. He hears a quiet set of footsteps walking on the other side of the wall to his back. He turns around and stands up just in time to see the long black haired man come around the corner. He’s wearing a black suit with a red patterned tie and wears his hair half up and half down. Satoru makes eye contact with him and he feels immediately nervous, as well as something he swears he’s never felt before. 

“Um. hello, are you-” He starts, but Satoru stands there almost unable to move. Immediately, he feels like he knows this man from somewhere. He seemed so familiar to Satoru - his voice, his face, his eyes, even though he knew that he didn’t know this man. “-Gojo?” He finally finishes, quietly, unsure if he remembered his name correctly. The way he says his name sounds like velvet. He wants to hear him say his name over and over again. 

“Yeah! Yeah, Satoru Gojo. But you can call me Satoru, if you want.” He says, breaking out of his thoughts, He sticks out his hand to shake it. Their hands meet in the middle and they both grip the other’s hand firmly. Both of their hands are warm, but Satoru feels like his hands are on fire. He smiles at the man in front of him, and he nods back, seemingly trying to put his name to memory. “What was your name again? Utahime told me but-” He trails off, waiting for the man to tell him his name. 

“Suguru Geto.” He says, a soft smile painted on his face.

“Nice to meet you, Suguru.” Satoru says, bravely using his first name. His palms start to feel sweaty as he steps back into his cubicle. He is silently kicking himself as Suguru stands there quietly. “So, you can grab Shoko’s chair from over there, if you want and bring it on over here and we’ll get started. Oh, and you can set your stuff in the cubicle in front of hers, that one is going to be yours.” He says, pointing at the cubicle diagonal from his. 

Suguru quickly sets his stuff down and decides to grab his chair instead of Shoko’s and wheels over to Satoru’s desk. “Good call, she might have killed me if she knew I told you to take her chair.” He smiles to himself towards his monitor as Suguru sits behind him, his jacket left behind in his cubicle, showing off his broad chest and shoulders in his grey button up.

“Yeah, definitely. That’s where Shoko sits?” Suguru asks, curiously.

“Yeah, um, do you know her?” Satoru asks, slightly confused as to why it sounds like Suguru knows who he’s talking about. He takes a silent deep breath, feeling his heart rate increase at seeing him without the jacket. Jesus Satoru, calm down he thinks to himself, waiting for Suguru to answer his question. 

“Um yeah, she’s actually the one that got me this job.” He responds softly.

“No way! I went to school with her, she got me this job too.” Satoru responds, sounding way too excited.

Suguru chuckles softly at Satoru’s excitement and of course Satoru notices. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to make him do it again. The sound was like music to his ears. He takes a quick deep breath and quickly changes the subject. “So! Should we get started?” He doesn’t know what’s come over him. Normally he’s an incredibly extroverted person and would have no problem talking to new people, but he doesn’t want to say something wrong this time, and he doesn’t know why but he’s nervous.

He tries to calm down and opens up the website on his computer that the company uses for training new employees. This is something he’s done enough that he doesn’t really have to think about it, which is good because he can’t stop thinking about where he could maybe, possibly know this man from. It’s driving him insane, the immediate connection he somehow feels to this person that he’s never met before. He feels the tops of his ears get hot. 

“Alright so, you get in here and I’ll sit behind you so you can see the monitor and work on the computer when you need to, and I can sit back here and mostly watch and answer questions if you need me to.” Satoru says, standing up and moving his chair to switch places with Suguru so that he can see the monitor better. Their arms brush up against each other in the tight cubicle space as they switch spots and Satoru feels like he’s going to lose his mind at the feeling.

He starts going through boring training videos and and every day procedures with him, trying to focus on training him for work, rather than just talking to him like normal. All he wants to do is learn about who this beautiful man is. Why would Shoko never tell me about him? Satoru thinks to himself as Suguru watches another video. Satoru sits behind him, organizing his drawer of pens to occupy himself until the video that he’s seen countless times comes to an end.

“So, is it all kinda making sense?” Satoru asks, closing the drawer and looking over at Suguru as he clicks to the next page. 

“Yeah, yeah, definitely. I think I’ll just need to do it a couple times and I’ll be good.” He shoots back, confidently. 

“Oh yeah, absolutely. You’re a natural.” Satoru says, earning a smile from Suguru, causing him to smile as well. “Okay, you can start the next video, but I’m gonna be right back, okay?” He stands up, putting both of his thumbs up as he creeps out of the cubicle. 

“I’ll be here.” Suguru says, putting one hand up as Gojo walks around the corner of his cubicle and out into the hallway that leads towards the bathroom. 

He quickly walks into the dark bathroom and the motion activated lights click on. He looks at himself in the mirror and takes a deep breath. “What the hell is your problem?” He whispers to himself in the mirror. He’s never felt this way about anyone except for this complete stranger. He wants to get to know him. He wants to get closer with him. He turns on the water and runs his hand under the cold water before holding it to his forehead and cheeks, trying to calm down. He takes another deep breath and runs his hand through his hair, fixing it, even though it didn’t need fixing. 

“Calm down stupid, you’ve known the man for an hour and a half. Keep it together.” He says quietly in the mirror to himself once again before leaving the bathroom and heading back to his cubicle to continue training Suguru. He rounds the corner and Suguru perks up once he sees that Satoru is back.

“Oh good, you’re back! I got stuck on this page and I didn’t want to mess anything up, so I waited for you to get back.” Sugaru says, pointing at the screen. Satoru walks up behind him and grabs hold onto the mouse, clicking around to see what's going on, bent down next to Suguru. He hadn't been this close to him yet, even when they shook hands, he couldn’t smell his cologne. He can now smell the warm scent of cashmere but also pine coming off of him as he leans down next to him. 

“Ugh I hate this thing. It signed us out, just a second.” Satoru says, before reaching in front of Suguru and pulling the keyboard to the side so that he could sign back in and they could keep working. Satoru sees Suguru sit back as he watches him get back to the place where they left off. Once he’s back, he slides the keyboard back in front of Suguru and pushes the mouse back to him. “There we go.” He says, slowly sitting back into his chair. 

“Thanks.” Suguru says softly before getting back to the training. 

The next hour and a half goes by without incident and thankfully without too much awkwardness between the two of them. Satoru is thankful for lunch so that he can get a break. He thinks about inviting Suguru to join him for lunch, but decides against it. He needs an hour to himself to think about why he’s feeling the way that he is, and what he thinks he’s going to do about it, if anything. 

“So, we get an hour for lunch, you can stay here, go somewhere, whatever.” Satoru says, explaining to Suguru as they close out the training. 

“Okay, thanks!” Suguru says, standing up and rolling his chair back to his cubicle. Satoru looks over as he puts his jacket on and walks out into the hallway. Gojo takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, stretching his arms before standing up. He grabs his jacket and pulls it on before grabbing his phone and wallet and heading towards the front door. He pops his headphones in as he steps into the empty elevator and heads down to the lobby. 

He clicks play on the last song that was playing as the doors open to the busy lobby. Satoru heads straight for the main doors and out onto the street, where he puts on his sunglasses as he steps outside. He takes a right and heads towards his favorite cafe to go for lunch during his work week. The walk is only a couple of blocks, but the air is cold and it turns Satoru’s cheeks and nose a rosy pink with the chill of the wind. I should have invited him. Satoru thinks, shoving his hands into his pockets and picking up the pace in his walk to the cafe. He probably thinks I don’t like him. Why was I acting like such a weirdo? The thoughts cloud his mind the entire duration of his walk. 

He reaches out to pull the handle and the normal sound of the bell on the door makes its presence known as Satoru steps into the small cafe, gaining the attention of the young pink haired teenager behind the counter. “Hey Gojo!” He calls out as Satoru approaches the counter. “You want your usual?” He asks, already typing his normal order into the cash register. 

“Yes please!” He replies, “and can I also get one of these? Actually- two of those. If I don’t get one for Shoko, she’ll kill me.” He replies, pointing to the delicious looking cupcakes in the display case. 

“Alrighty then!.” The pink haired boy says, sliding open the case.

“Just you today, Yuji?” Gojo asks, pulling out his wallet while the total pops up on the screen in front of him on the counter.

“Yeah,” Yuji says with a sigh. “Megumi is off today, so just me!” He says, taking the cash that Satoru hands him. “No receipt, right?” Satoru shakes his head no, and Yuji crumples up the receipt and tosses it into the trash behind the counter. “Have a good rest of your day, Gojo!”

“You as well, Yuji.” He says in response as he grabs his food and heads to a table in the corner where he can sit down and relax for a bit before heading back to the office. He settles on his usual spot - the small table with two chairs in the back corner, and sits in the chair facing the front door so that he could once again people watch. He takes a bite of his sandwich before setting it back down and looking at his phone at a text from Utahime.

‘Geto is training for the rest of the day with Haibara once you’re back from lunch.’

Satoru reads this and feels relieved because now he can get his work done, but also disappointed that he wouldn’t get to be around Suguru for the rest of the day. He reacts to the message with a thumbs up and decides not to bother her anymore for once. He sets his phone down and looks up at the group of people that just came in from the street and he sees him. 

Shit shit shit shit. Satoru thinks to himself. Should I go say something? No! He has a quick mental battle with himself. He doesn’t want to bother him outside of work, but he wants so desperately to get to know who Suguru Geto is. He watches from behind his sunglasses as Suguru approaches the counter and interacts with Yuji. Satoru notices his smile is soft as he orders and pays. He looks around and that’s when Satoru picks up his phone and starts looking at it again, trying to avoid possibly making eye contact with him. 

Just from what Gojo can see in his periphery, Suguru seems to look around for a moment before he steps towards the front door and leaves the cafe, seemingly taking his food back to the office. Satoru breathes again as he realizes that he was holding his breath waiting to see what would happen. He wasn’t even sure what it was that he wanted to happen. If he would have noticed me, he would have said something, right? He thought to himself, sure that Suguru didn’t spot him over in the corner. 

Satoru realizes that his hands are sweaty and wipes them on his pants, hurriedly. It’s fine He thinks again. He tries to finish his sandwich, but ends up getting sick of it after a few bites and wraps it up to take back to the office along with his cupcakes for him and Shoko. He gives Yuji a wave as he steps out onto the street to start his walk back to the office, an upbeat song once again playing in his ears. 

He walks through the large front doors and heads towards the elevator, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his jacket pocket. He steps into the elevator and immediately notices Shoko this time and calls out her name. 

“Oh, so you noticed me this time huh?” She teases as the doors close and they are the only two inside. He wants to ask her about Suguru, but he decides that it’s better that he doesn't - at least for now. 

“How was your meeting?” He responds, choosing to ignore her statement. He takes her deep sigh as her answer. “That bad, huh?” He asks, the elevator starting to quickly climb.

“It was just a bunch of old creepy men and I just kept getting talked over the whole time.” She says, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, obviously annoyed. Satoru shakes his head, knowing that she’s not exaggerating. He’s been in those meetings and they just don’t care to hear what she has to say. It’s extremely frustrating and he tries his best to help when he’s there. 

“Well… It’s not that much, but I got you a little treat.” He says, handing the cupcake box to her as the elevator reaches the 36th floor and comes to a stop. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in a smile as she reaches out and grabs the small box.

The elevator doors open and they step out, walking down the hallway together. Satoru uses his key card and opens the door once again, following Shoko inside. Satoru heads straight back to his cubicle to see if Suguru is at his desk. To his disappointment, he isn’t. Satoru sits down at his desk and unlocks his computer to get working on his presentation for later in the month. He checks his email and sees that thankfully, the marketing department sent him all of their reports that he needed for his presentation. He hears Shoko sit back down into her chair as he’s working diligently. 

“Where’s your trainee?” He hears Shoko say over the sound of the music in his ear. He takes out his headphone and turns his head.

“He’s with Yu for the rest of the day. Guess they want him to learn different positions.” He says, and it comes out more disappointed sounding than he meant it to. “I’m just happy they’re giving me time to focus on my own work. I’m more behind now, but I think I can catch up by the end of the day if I just focus.” He says, turning his head back to the monitor in front of him. 

He doesn’t see Shoko raise her eyebrows at his change in attitude all of a sudden. She grabs a pen and a sticky note and writes “Do Not Disturb! Satoru Gojo hard at work! >:(” and rolls across the aisle, sticking it to the outside of his cubicle with a smile on her face that goes completely unnoticed by Satoru. 

The final hours of the day slip by faster than Satoru would have liked, but he feels good with where he’s left off on his work. He leans back in his chair and stretches his arms out before glancing over at Suguru’s cubicle once more, only to see it still empty. Hmph. He lets out quietly, hoping that he would be able to say goodbye at least before heading home for the day. He looks over to see Shoko is long gone, her computer already off and monitor black. He smiles to himself as he stands up, grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair and throwing it on before grabbing his bag from underneath his desk and slinging it over his shoulder. He grabs his empty coffee cup from the morning and finally tosses it into the garbage on his way out the door. 

Satoru takes one last look around to see if he notices Suguru anywhere, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He’s probably gone home idiot. He thinks to himself, looking down at his watch. The day was technically over 15 minutes ago. He walks out the front door, saying goodbye to lingering coworkers on his way out. He makes sure to grab his sandwich from the fridge and shoves it into his bag, making sure to grab his cupcake as well.

For the last time of the day, he steps into the elevator, alone this time, and pops his headphones in, ready for the commute home. The elevator makes a couple stops to pick up people from other floors also on their way down, but the ride isn’t too long to the lobby. Satoru steps out of the elevator and makes his way towards the front doors. He begins his short walk back to the train station, once again walking to the beat of the music playing in his ears.  

He sees the train is already at the station as he’s walking up, and he begins to take a bit longer strides as he tries not to miss the train, but eventually, just misses it.

“Shit.” He hisses as he looks around for an open bench to wait on. A woman and her son sit on the bench directly behind him, so he finds an empty one slightly further down the station and sits down. He decides to text Utahime, who is probably still at the office.

‘Hiii Utahime, Just wondering if I was going to be training him again tomorrow morning :)’

He clicks send and almost immediately the three bubbles pop up to indicate that she’s typing. 

‘Yeah, he said that he liked training with you, which surprised me. Now leave me alone and go home.’

Satoru feels his face get red. He what? He thinks, a smile creeping onto his face. Don’t be crazy. With a stupidly excited grin, he rubs along his jaw, bringing his bottom lip in between hit teeth to try to bite back his smile. He can’t help but read the text over and over again to make sure that he understood correctly, and no matter how many times he reads it, it’s always the same message. He liked training with me? A voice comes over the speaker announcing that the train will soon be arriving in the station. Satoru stands up, straightening out his jacket while trying to suppress the goofy smile on his face. 

He steps onto the train and picks a seat close to the door. His short train ride was of course filled with people watching and imagining what their days are like. Finally, his stop arrives and he steps back out into the cool air and begins his walk back to his apartment. He can’t stop smiling to himself on the way home, just excited to go back and see him the next day. 

I have to invite him to lunch. He thinks to himself. They went to the same cafe, it was only polite to, right? Satoru opens the front door of his building and heads towards the elevator. He clicks the up arrow and waits for the ding and the doors slowly open. He steps inside the empty elevator and clicks the button for the 36th floor - same as the office, funnily enough. It makes it really easy to remember where you live and work when it’s the same number. He enjoyed being up so high, able to see all the beautiful lights of the city of Tokyo from his home. 

Satoru grabs his keys out of his pocket as he approaches his door, and easily unlocks the door without any trouble. He steps inside and calls out. “Shiro, I’m home!” He hears a small meow followed by a thud and the patter of paws padding out to greet him. “There’s my girl! Are you hungry?” She responds with a meow as Satoru sets his bag down and kicks off his shoes before stepping towards the kitchen and pulling out a can of wet food for the cat. A constant stream of meows fill the room until Satoru finally sets down the food for her. “Yeah yeah! I’m getting there!” He calls out to her as she yowls up at him from his feet. He sets down the bowl in its normal spot and Shiro digs in. “You act like you’ve never eaten before.” He says as he picks up his bag and shoes and heads into his bedroom. He sets his shoes back in their spot and hangs his bag on the hook on the back of his door. 

Satoru starts by taking off his jacket and hanging it up, followed by shedding the rest of his suit and clothing down to nothing but his underwear. He walks out of the closet, taking a quick look in the mirror with a smile on his way by to the bathroom. He turns on the shower and stands there while it heats up, thinking about his day, about how good this shower was going to feel, about Suguru. He takes a deep breath before shedding his final layer and stepping into the steamy shower. He lets the hot water run down over his hair and face before he rubs his face with his hands, still smiling over the day.

“You need to chill out.” He says out loud to himself in the shower. He runs his fingers through his hair and goes through the normal order of things in his after-work shower. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax his muscles as the hot water runs over his shoulders and down his back. The pressure of the water feeling good on his back, which is sore from sitting in his chair hunched over all day. He closes his eyes and lets the water run over his tired muscles for a minute before finally turning around and turning the water off. He shakes his hands through his hair, trying to get as much water out as possible. 

Satoru grabs his towel from the hook on the wall and uses it to dry off before wrapping it low around his waist. He opens the bathroom door and makes his way over to his dresser to pull out some sweat pants and a black tshirt. 

After putting on his moisturizer and getting redressed after his shower, Satoru makes his way back out into the kitchen. “What should I have for dinner, Shi?” He asks the fluffy cat, but mostly to himself as he opens the fridge to check what he has. After checking the pantry, he decides that he has the correct ingredients to make some lemon pepper salmon with rice, so he starts pulling out ingredients and in less than an hour later, he’s plating up and setting it on his dining room table. He takes a quick picture, satisfied with his work before he sits down and starts eating. 

“This is delicious!” He says into the empty apartment to himself. He smiles to himself as he finishes up his dinner and decides to wind down by watching something in the living room. He turns the tv on and picks up his phone before queuing anything up and sees a text from Shoko.

‘You didn’t tell me that you were training Geto!!!’ 

He reads the text and his heart rate immediately picks up again. Is he talking about me to Shoko? Races through his mind and he begins typing a response. 

‘You never asked ¯\_(ツ)_/¯’ He clicks send and immediately sees Shoko typing. He didn’t think to mention that he had in fact mentioned that he knew her. Not only that, but that she got him the job, similarly to how she had also gotten him the job. 

‘Dude!!!’

Satoru is confused as to what she’s getting at.

‘???’ He sends back.

‘Why didn’t you tell me??’

‘Idk, didn’t really realize that I needed to.’

‘Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow!’ She finishes with. 

“Weirdo.” Satoru says out loud to himself before setting his phone to the side and picking a random movie from his collection and pressing play, just to have something playing. He props his feet up on the coffee table and interlocks his fingers behind his head as he sits back, thinking about Suguru once again. He stares up at the ceiling, remembering how nice he smelled, how nice he looked. He feels a soft movement from the other side of the couch as Shiro makes her way over to plop herself down right on Satoru’s lap. 

“What the hell am I gonna do, Shi?” He asks, still looking up at the ceiling before bringing down one of his hands to pet the cat, who was happily leaning into the pets that she was getting. He smiles down at the fluffy white cat in his lap and paints his attention back up to the tv where his movie continued to play. Satoru spends his Monday evening watching movies and eating the cupcake from his favorite cafe, all while being unable to stop thinking about Suguru Geto.

About three movies and enough sugar to send a child into a sugar rush, Satoru looks at this phone once again. Empty of notifications and the time reads 10:31. “Guess I should get ready for bed, huh baby?” He says as the cat follows him into his bedroom. He flicks off the lamps as he walks by, leaving his living room lit up by nothing but the moon and the lights of downtown Tokyo down below. He turns on the lamp on his nightstand before stepping into the bathroom for one last time to brush his teeth. 

He walks out of the bathroom over to his windows. He sits down for a moment in the arm chair in the corner of his room and looks out the window. He enjoyed doing this before bed, just to relax a little bit. He liked to think about all the lives of everyone he could see from his window. Every person he can see has their own life that he will never know about. Satoru takes one last look at the busy street below and stands up and walks slowly over to his bed, yawning as he does so.

Pulling back the comforter, he climbs into his bed. Shiro jumps onto the bed and lays down close to his feet. Satoru throws the comforter over himself and grabs his phone from the nightstand, turning off the lamp as well. He opens up his text message with Utahime one more time just to smile and read that Suguru enjoyed being with him today. He thinks once more about how he also had mentioned him to Shoko. Satoru makes sure his alarms are set for the morning before turning on some brown noise to help him sleep. 

Last, Satoru sets his phone on the night stand and can’t help but smile excitedly into his pillow. He was excited for the day ahead of him for tomorrow. Finally, something to look forward to outside of the monotony of a typically boring office job. 

chapter 2

[thewhumpcaretaker]

✦˚｡⋆ Rescuing a Stranger: Panic Attack on a Plane

⋆｡°✩ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Hurt/comfort. Gender Neutral Reader, taking care of a lonely man who has a phobia of flying. This is just a one-shot reader insert, but if it does well, I might turn "Rescuing a Stranger" into a series. They will be fluffy and semi-romantic <3

Divider Source

You're settling in for an overnight flight. It won't be pleasant, but you got the window seat at least. And then you see who's sitting next to you.

At first, you think he'll be insufferably stuck-up. He bumps into someone without apologizing as he rushes to get to his seat in a single-minded hurry. He looks glitzy and put together. A luxury watch, an expensive briefcase, polished Oxfords. He's dressed for a business trip, and didn't even have the sense to wear comfortable travel clothes. "Probably not used to flying," you think, "Or at least flying economy." Although the alternative is just that he can't stand to be seen in anything less than formalwear.

Worst of all, he's chatty. He asks where you're headed, talks about the weather, the news - anything. But at least you find a lot of common ground, and he isn't as aloof as you expected. And then there's his tone of voice… He's talking too much and too fast, especially once the engines kick on. It doesn't take you long to realize he has a fear of flying.

You ask about it as delicately as you can. He chokes on a laugh and admits that yes, it's a pretty bad phobia. He doesn't normally fly, but his job insisted on flying him out to a conference. "I'll be fine," he says, looking paler by the moment. You offer to shut the window and he's very grateful, but his knuckles are still bulging thanks to an overly tight grip on the armrest between you. You spot a certain bagginess under his eyes - he probably didn't sleep last night, given his worries over this trip. Your heart squeezes at the strange intimacy of what you're seeing.

He's much more endearing like this than he was when you first saw him. You feel suddenly self-conscious, as if you're enjoying the sympathy a little too much without him knowing it. What if he has a partner? What would they think of some stranger keeping him company on a plane? You ask if he has someone he can text for support once the in-flight Wi-Fi gets going. …A girlfriend? No, he says, he's single.

And he admits that he's been lonely lately. No one has been close to him in a long while, honestly. "It's hard to connect with people, you know? Age of isolation and all that. Especially over something like this. No one wants to hear about it I'm sure. Too…vulnerable." Something inside you throbs.

He starts to apologize for saying too much but you reassure him. You say a little too much too, about wanting to be there for people. He gets enough color back in his cheeks for both of you to blush.

But it's short lived. The plane hits a bump and a little gasp snags his breathing. You can see the muscles in his neck tighten. He can't look at you. "It's alright." Before you can think, you lay your hand on top of his. "Is…is this okay with you?"

He doesn't answer, just turns his hand over to clasp yours in a death grip. You squeeze back, very aware that your heart is soaring thousands of feet above the ocean like an exuberant bird. And very aware that his pulse is flying. You can feel it where your wrists are pressed together. He manages to exhale.

The calm is short lived. The seatbelt light comes on as the pilot crackles out an announcement: "Folks, we're expecting some minor turbulence. Please stay in your seats and we'll be through it shortly." This entirely fails to reassure him. He's switching rapidly between hyperventilating and not breathing at all. You start talking to him quietly. "Hey, look at me. It will be over soon. Can you try to match my breathing?"

He gives a weak, jerky nod and his wide eyes meet yours. You're not sure which is shaking more violently: the plane, or the stranger. But after a little while, he manages to fall into rhythm with you, and only then do you realize how cold and clammy his hand has become in yours. He notices too, pulls away, and rubs at his arms. "Sorry. I just, uh…should've worn something thicker than a dress shirt." He's still shivering. You glance down at the amenities provided for sleep: pillows, but no blankets. You brought one for yourself though, and offer it to him.

He nods and you arrange it over his chest before withdrawing these pesky hands that just keep wanting to hold onto him and fuss over him. But he doesn't seem to mind. "Thank you. That was…really really sweet."

You end talking again, this time on a deeper level. You find out why he's so alone, and he finds out why you care. You both talk about wanting more out of life. He marvels at how safe you make him feel, and you're pretty sure your heart is now somewhere in the stratosphere.

The panic seems to have taken the energy out of him, and after dinner, he admits what you suspected: anxiety kept him awake all last night. Now he's exhausted. With the cabin lights dimmed, he leans back and drifts off. But the pillows leave something to be desired, and soon enough, he's sliding sideways against your shoulder. You let your head rest against his, elated. At every jolt of turbulence, he whimpers in his sleep, or worse, goes tense and alert until you can calm him down again with an arm around his back and a hand in his. You don't think you'll be getting any sleep, but you don't mind in the slightest.

[unaskedformagnustheories]

Recap Notes: MAGP 12 "Getting Off"

Spoiler Warning: this is a purely selfish exercise in remembering what the hell happened last season (from someone caught up thru MAGP32, 3/6/2025 & all of The Magnus Archives). No promises I'll keep up with it.

Summary: Bonzo! Bonzo! Bonzo! Oh, and Sam is done with Magnus stuff, apparently. Pfft.

Casement: CAT1RB4728-09032024-13032024

Alice being the MOST ok with Sam & Celia is oof. As for Celia, It's a stretch, because we know she's busy with the whole sleepwalking to Oxford thing going on, but just pointing out that she pivots pretty quickly from hesitancy to agreeing to meet Sam under the clock at Leicester Square for their first date. A 10 minute from Soho Jack's (where Bonzo goes for a bro buffet). Most likely London is London and things are bound to be close every now and again, but if Celia wanted to do a little freelance investigation, I'm just saying it'd be a convenient trip to hop over and check it out. That's all.

Otherwise, great showing from Bonzo. His chant "he wants to play, he wants to stay" does make me wonder if his whole monching deal is what keeps him able to manifest / stay in this world to do it. A trade, like the one Celia's gearing up to make. And still no closer to defining CAT1 but at least worth mentioning most of our classic monsters do seem to filter into there. Mowbray, Bonzo, Ink5oul, Needles, Rupert the demon child, etc. Don't think it's as easy as "inhuman", but something to watch.

“I dream about it most nights. In the dream it digs through all those men to get to me, grabbing fistfuls of them and throwing them to smash against the wall. The strobe fires as its hands plunge into the pile of us and each flash shows a little less flesh between me and it, between me and all those teeth… Finally everyone else is gone. I raise my arm to protect myself and it gently but inexorably lifts it into its mouth, smiles and bites.”

Haven't been paying too much attention to dreams in TMP, but I might retroactively look to see if there's anything there. Doubt it'd be the same mechanism as Jon's dream hopping after he feeds from TMA, but suppose I shouldn't throw the baby out with the bathwater just yet. In general, I hope the more this mystery unfolds the more it's it own thing. I like the homages, and of course adore the source material, but I think it's a much more compelling game to take what we think we know and twist. Part of the reason I never tried too hard to fit any of the early casements into Smirke's 14. We don't know the rules here. That's the joy of playing. I will also be keeping a lazy eye out for mention of a Barry, Basil or Sebastian. With Gwen's upper class contacts, and the way she keeps her cards close to her chest, I wouldn't put it past her having known Baz before he was on the menu. Feels like a real Lena move to test Gwen's mettle by having her be responsible for the death of someone she rubbed elbows with.

GWEN You never wonder what the point is? Who benefits from all this awfulness?

ALICE I don’t wonder. I know.

GWEN What? (sitting up) Really?

ALICE Oh yeah. (portentous) I’ve known for a while, what we’re doing here. It’s all part of a grand plan to satisfy one of the most unspeakable evils known to mankind…

[Gwen’s on the edge of her seat.]

ALICE (almost a whisper) …the UK government.

[GWEN sighs, sitting back]

GWEN Thanks, Alice. Utterly useless as always.

Hilarious, but Alice's probably not wrong. Again.

[foggieststars]

wait can i ask what your undergrad and masters were (sweats in about to move back to the uk to do a masters program) and what made them difficult

rambling about uni under the cut!!

i did history undergrad and comparative social policy for my masters! the thing that made my undergrad difficult is just that i went to cambridge for it and the workload is extremely demanding for undergraduates, much moreso than for masters students (i did my masters at oxford and i know for a fact i was doing much less work than undergrads were!!)

so for undergrad what made it difficult: we had a 2000-2500 word essay due every week which professors expected you to read a minimum of 10-15 sources (chapters in books/essays) for, depending on the professor! (this is in addition to hundreds of pages of assigned reading for different classes) and then once you submitted your essay you'd have to go and have a one-to-one hour long discussion with the professor about your essay and defend your argument to someone who was very often a leading expert in their field, and watch and listen and nod as they shredded your argument to pieces... every week... for three years.

side anecdote: once i spent an entire essay absolutely BLASTING this one author for his take on a certain subject. i think i literally called him a misogynist in my essay. and when i sat down to discuss it with my professor she looked me dead in the eyes and said 'so i see you didn't enjoy my husband's book?' i am dying just thinking about it

so yeah undergrad was very tough and it's designed to be that way - oxbridge has an extremely 'sink or swim' attitude to education when it comes to their undergrads and they're very much of the opinion that if you can't cope with the workload, oxbridge isn't for you and you should leave and go somewhere else. i know several people who did! like they literally tell you that they make the kitchens cramped and uncomfortable to use in order to force students to buy dinner from their colleges and have more time for studying. lol

as for my masters, i found it MUCH easier to balance work and life! i didn't find the subject matter that much more challenging than my undergrad and in general i found that there was a much less demanding workload. probably because the course is only a year and is basically oriented around you writing your thesis! so i only had 2 essays to submit the whole year, and then weekly reading for seminars and lectures.

but i also found that i had to do less weekly reading than i was doing in my undergrad, because they expect you to be doing more in your free time to focus on your thesis and the classes are more of a framework for that. this is also HIGHLY dependent on where you go for your masters - oxford is still a pretty heavy workload for a uk masters. lots of my friends who did masters degrees elsewhere had a comparatively very chill time and a lesser courseload than i did, and i didn't even feel overworked! it always felt very manageable and a lot more adult

sorry i rambled a LOT but either way. i think you'll have an amazing time during your masters and please feel free to ask me any questions about masters in the uk etc, i'll try my best to answer them if i can!! <33

[lululawrence]

hi, can i ask for pages 36 and 9 for the sunshine project? I've been looking at my fic rec lists but I can't find the will to open any :(

oh babes, absolutely. i'll go ahead and give two from each, and hopefully you'll have the energy and desire to open one that feels right.

page 36 of my ao3 bookmarks includes...

The Prince and The YouTuber by haztobegood / @haztobegood

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

i hope that you won't slip away in the night by vintagehistories / @adoredontour

He turns back to Maybe Jessica. “Who’s going to be here?”

“Harry Styles,” she says. “The one-”

“I know who he is,” Louis snaps. “Who invited him?”

“Uh, you did, sir.”

Louis didn’t think that was serious. When he had responded to Harry’s cheeky tweet about the gala with his own cheeky ‘You should come - I’ll put you on the guest list’ he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Least of all for Harry to show up.

or the one where louis is a prince and harry is a popstar

and page 9 of my ao3 bookmarks includes...

Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne. Payne is both the bane of his existence and, uh... dangerous. Very dangerous. His eyes, that is. His lips. The way he stands.

A story of rain and cobblestones, cigarettes, and repression. And the sunshine after the storm.

another friday night by wabadabadaba

Louis Tomlinson thought signing to BMG would mean he would be free to make his own choices.

He should have known better.

Tasked with getting a public girlfriend, Louis decides to try his hand at finding the right woman himself. From the moment he met Lennon Adair he felt a connection with her but he had no idea how deep that connection would go.

Choose one of my 103 pages of bookmarks in AO3 and I'll give you a random selection of fics from that page!

[th3-new-rom4ntics]

⊱✿⊰ answering this exercise by @zaddizu for my better cr! here's the link to add yourself to this dr!

𑁍ࠬܓ what is your name?

my full cr name, except my mother's name is a part of my surname! its something ive always wanted since my family has patrilineal surnames where the father's name becomes the child's surname, but i'm a mummy's girl deep down n 100% want her name as a part of mine.

𑁍ࠬܓ favourite food?

my mother's shrimp biryani <3

𑁍ࠬܓ you can only choose one movie to watch for the rest of your life, what would you choose?

the princess bride always and forever.

𑁍ࠬܓ what is your birthday? 19/10!

𑁍ࠬܓwhat is a song you will always have a place for in your heart? layla by eric clapton!

𑁍ࠬܓfavourite colour, go!! purple!

𑁍ࠬܓname the most important thing to you. a bracelet my grandma gave me. it reminds me of her even when i'm far from home in switzerland.

𑁍ࠬܓfavourite memory?

my first international trip (other than india n layovers)! it was to taipei with my family. we had such a fun time + it was a great way to practice my chinese skills.

𑁍ࠬܓleast favourite memory?

seeing the F4 for the first time. i literally died inside i think. grown ass people simping over 4 trust fund babies.

𑁍ࠬܓsomeone you dislike?

uhhh other than the F4, this one lunch lady that always gives me the side-eye when she serves me, like she can smell the poor off me :(

𑁍ࠬܓin a crowded room, who would you look for first?

at school? my bsf. back home? my sister.

𑁍ࠬܓbest music genre?

rock! there's so much within the genre of rock itself that there is always a song for every mood. whether its dad rock or prog rock, i'll have so much variety that i wouldn't need to listen to anything else.

𑁍ࠬܓa topic you defend with your life?

EATING LESS MEAT SHOULD BE NORMALISED!!!! its not just about animals bro i don't give a shit about cows but its about the PLANET. it should be normal to not eat as much beef especially because of the Co2 emissions.

𑁍ࠬܓa character you relate to?

daria morgendorffer. with my whole soul.

𑁍ࠬܓpicture your room, is it organised or messy?

soo messy. the common spaces i have with my roomie are clean but my bedroom and bathroom are messy asf bc your girl cannot be bothered cleaning when it comes to me myself.

𑁍ࠬܓgun to your head... are you funny?

i am. too much. can never take anything seriously.

𑁍ࠬܓfruit platter or candy platter?

fruit!! i'm not much of a candy person.

𑁍ࠬܓsugar, sour or spice?

gun to my head...spice.

𑁍ࠬܓwhats your aesthetic?

kat stratford, daria morgendorffer, dorothy parker. mixing acerbic wit with doc martens and my favourite green rain jacket. 𑁍ࠬܓwho in your dr would you not be surprised if they came out as a shifter?

cosette. tf u mean ur a model, nepo baby, singer, trust fund baby, business woman and oxford university student?? at the ripe age of 19?

𑁍ࠬܓwhats your hogwarts house?

ravenclaw!!

𑁍ࠬܓambivert, introvert or extrovert?

ambivert. it all swings like a pendulum depending on my mood.

𑁍ࠬܓbest school subject?

hmm..literature analysis or social and cultural anthropology.

𑁍ࠬܓwhere can someone find you when you're sad?

the library or my bedroom!

𑁍ࠬܓwho are you?

myself. i refused to be put into a box or labelled.

𑁍ࠬܓsomeone's music you don't enjoy?

i got to be so fr..taylor swift. she never hits for me. and trust me, i've tried so hard. i'm just not a swiftie.

𑁍ࠬܓhave you had a near death experience?

lowk dastardly but i almost tripped on the stairs after someone poured water on them :((

𑁍ࠬܓwho was your first love? do you regret it?

i've never loved before. unfortunately, i know damn well who my first love is going to be and i'm scared for myself HAHA.

[leiflitter]

The Quotable Catton

Putting some of this one under a cut for NSFW reasons. Felix is a yappy fucker in more ways than one.

“Clean bill of health. Apparently I am a little deficient in vitamin D, but I'm sure you can help with that.” [...] “Also had a delivery notification, so how about I be a gent and carry those bags for you? And you can make a big fuss of me when we get back to the car for being awfully brave. I didn't even complain when they took my blood- well, complain much… Then, when we get home, I can stab you a bit.”

Chapter 53

“That's a risk I'm willing to take. I've got very good lawyers, Ollie.” [...] “They'd get me off, but I'd far rather you did, you little tease.” 

Chapter 53

“Eenie meenie miney mo, catch a tiger by it's toe, if he squeals let him go…” [...] “Cock out, boyscout.” 

Chapter 54

“Oh, come off it, Oliver. You think you're subtle? I see you looking, you know.” [...] “I know you're bent, mate. I must say it'd be nice to get a blowie from someone who actually likes cock.”

Chapter 54

“Don't play coy, Ollie, it's a cock. We both have ‘em, and we both know you're about ten seconds away from begging for me to stick it in one of your holes. What was I saying…? Oh, right. So. If Lu comes home and I'm balls-deep in your arse on the bloody dining room table, then what chance do either of us have of getting away with it? But… Well, that's what you want, isn't it? Fucking hell, are you always this much of a shameless slut, or is it especially for me?”

Chapter 55

“Ollie, you're too bloody sexy and it makes it very, very hard for me to be a twat to you.” 

Chapter 55

“Right. Where were we? I promise I'll be so impolite, Ollie… Alright. You're a shameless slut. Right.” [...] “That's… Oh, shit. Line, Olls?”

Chapter 55

“You can leave, you know. I'm just going to follow you. Easy peasy… and I think I said that you can leave if you get sick of us, so unless you're sick of me…”

Chapter 56

“Me and Ollie are up to his parents’ for New Years, so you can all have a ghost party if you'd like. No snogging any long-dead Cattons, Venetia, I don't care if you're dead, it's still incest. I, um. I miss you all.” [...] “I wish you could, you know, give me a call or pop back for a visit in the summer? If you can, then… Let me know, but not in a spooky way. I love you.”

Chapter 56

“Look, Olls, I know I'm not divorced yet, and it's been… a month since Oxford, and not even two weeks of you being here, but I want to. I'm sorry I don't have a ring and I'm not on one knee, and it's not romantic but I really, really mean it. How about it?”

Chapter 56