#except it's signed so only kind of anonymous

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Shadows Beneath the Light [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x Sorcerer!reader

wc: 5k

Summary: Valentina contacts you to conduct a complete team assessment regarding the mystical arts. But when Bob's turn comes, it turns out he needs more of your help.

masterlist part 2

warnings: mentions of mental illness, Val is a bitch, mentions of suicide, complicated childhoods, canon-typical violence, and The Void

After the final battle against Thanos three years ago, you had returned to anonymity. Like many other magic users, your participation was decisive but silent, deploying containment seals, opening portals, and shielding minds during the catastrophe. You were there when Strange momentarily fell. You were the one who stabilized the field during the most critical seconds. But no one outside the inner circle remembered your name.

Or so you thought, because two months ago, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine had knocked on your door bringing something that, more than a request, was a date with a time limit.

Some of the most powerful assets on the new team she was leading—you'd heard about them on the news, a ragtag group of broken soldiers and conflicted metahumans the government didn't know where to put—had begun to show signs of magical dissonance. Fragments of darkness that shouldn't exist, symbols they didn't remember writing, dreams that weren't theirs.

One person in particular worried everyone: Bob Reynolds.

You knew him only by name. Sentry. As powerful as the sun, immense strength, mental stability… debatable. An entity of light with a counterpart of absolute darkness: The Void. You knew just enough to accept the assignment with reservations.

Your job was to assess it and determine if there was any active magical intrusion in it or if the presence of The Void was stronger than they admitted. And if so... intervene.

So there you were now. Temporarily housed in the underground facility the team had been moved to, with a list of subjects to review, and restricted—but sufficient—access to do your job. You'd already examined Walker, Yelena, and Ghost. They had some residual blockages, but nothing that couldn't be resolved. You were surprised that, given the kind of life they led, they weren't worse off.

But when you finally got access to Bob, the protocol changed.

The room he was in was protected with physical shielding and containment charms you had designed yourself, just in case. You watched him for a moment through the one-way mirror, and he seemed simply human: sitting, hunched over, his face in his hands. Nothing about him screamed “cosmic entity.” Nothing, except what couldn’t be seen.

You noticed the air trembling around him, not from heat, but from energetic density. The aura surrounding the man wasn't magical, but it permeated you as if it were. His vibe was definitely heavier than that of his previous colleagues, and you understood why the CIA director was so keen for you to do something about it.

You didn't blame her, to be honest, because the world no longer relied on a group of scientists who could handle these kinds of situations, so magic seemed like a more sensible alternative right now. Fighting fire with fire... or something like that.

As you entered the room, the metal door slammed shut behind you. Bob raised his head, his blue eyes fixed on you with a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. He looked... tired. Not physically, but emotionally drained, as if he hadn't slept properly in years. Even so, he straightened politely with a neutral expression, like someone accustomed to being watched without fully understanding why.

“Are you the one who’s going to… evaluate me?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

“I am,” you replied in the same tone, telling him your name next.

There was a table between the two of you, which made the place look like some kind of laboratory or a prelude to prison. He kept staring at you, somewhat confused.

“Are you a doctor?”

“It’s a different kind of evaluation,” you exclaimed, without offering any further explanation for the moment. He didn’t need to know everything. Not yet. “Just sit still, okay?”

He nodded obediently, and then you slipped your hand inside your cloak, pulling out a locket that you began to turn between your fingers. The movement activated a faint projection, almost invisible to the mundane eye: a network of golden lines unfolded around it, scanning its auric field. Your thumb brushed over a small sigil in the center of the locket, and a slight hum resonated as it detected dissonances.

You walked around him in silence. With each step, you traced runes with your fingertips, which flickered in the air before dissolving. It wasn't invasive magic, it was an ethereal diagnosis. But when you finally closed the circle behind his back, you felt it. A crack.

It wasn't an artifact, nor a curse. It was something ancient, something breathing within the folds of the soul of the man in front of you. As if something were stirring just beneath his skin, waiting to be acknowledged.

“You’re going to feel some pressure,” you warned gently, placing your fingers on his temples. He didn’t protest.

The technique was simple: channeled meditation through physical contact, an anchoring method the monks at Kamar-Taj used to detect hidden currents in the mind. But you weren't prepared for what you saw.

In a second, his consciousness opened like an abyss. You were standing in the middle of a devastated field, the sky crimson, the clouds shredded by black tongues that snaked out like rotten roots. And at the center of it all, a figure of smoke and shadow... looking back at you.

«Who are you?»

The voice was thick, raspy, and came from all sides. It was terrifying.

«What are you?»

«The Void,» he murmured simply.

«Are you a guest in this body? Do you serve some dark master or sorcerer?»

«Don't be stupid. I'm that thing everyone has inside... that thing they can't escape.»

An invisible weight pressed against your chest: it was hostile, painful. And suddenly the air froze. Not literally, but it felt like the world had stopped moving. A low, persistent buzzing settled in your ear. And then, everything was gone.

Now you were home. In the old apartment with walls cracked by moisture, where the floral wallpaper hung half-open and the light filtered in, as if the sun no longer wanted to shine.

“Mom?” you called. But it wasn’t your voice speaking, but someone younger, beside you.

The hallway smelled of stale lavender and burnt electricity. You remembered it. Every inch. Every crack in the floor. The way the air tasted was like something that didn't belong in the world.

“Mom, are you there?” you asked again. Your younger self sounded scared.

The sound of running water came from the kitchen. Your feet moved on their own. You knew what you were going to see, but you couldn't stop it. Void wouldn't let you. There she was.

She sat on the floor, eyes wide open, speaking to the griffin as if it were an ancient god. Her hands were covered in ink, or blood, or both. On the wall, clumsily scrawled, the same symbol over and over: an eye with a thousand eyelashes, weeping fire.

“I told you you weren’t real,” he whispered, not looking at you. “No one who loves me is born real.”

You froze. Your little self took a step back.

But the woman continued speaking, more quietly, like a twisted prayer:

“I dreamed of you before you existed. You were just a mistake I couldn’t erase.”

“Mommy…”

“If I close my eyes, you disappear. Do you want to see it?”

You wanted to run, stop her, hug her. But it all happened again.

The balcony door opened, with the exact creak of its rusty hinges. Then came the crushing silence. And then, the fall; the thud you never heard, but could still feel in your chest.

The Void appeared. Not in physical form. Not as a monster. Just a voice. A whisper like a blade:

«You remember everything, right? Every detail before your mommy left forever... »

You screamed. Not from pain, but from fury. From fear. From rage because he had no right to show it to you. Because you didn't know if he'd stolen it from you... or if it had always been there, waiting.

When the spell—the illusion, the psychic assault, whatever it was—ended, you returned to the living room, panting, your hands still on Bob's face. He was frowning, as if he'd felt the pull too, though he didn't fully understand it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his guilt aching in your heart. He didn’t seem to be afraid for himself. He was afraid for you.

You took a step back, trying to regulate your breathing as you processed the shock of the sight. You looked up at the mirror, which reflected your image, wondering if anyone was on the other side watching the scene.

You were pale, as if you were about to throw up, and the man looked no better than you.

“You have something… very wrong inside you.”

Your whisper made him look down, embarrassed. He thought you were there to draw blood, perform some tests, or assess his physical condition. He didn't expect you to intrude on his mind like that.

“You can… Can you control it?”

“Sometimes. But there are other times when it controls me. And then I don't remember anything, and it's so… it's all so confusing.”

Several seconds passed in silence, the buzzing of the locket still vibrating on your wrist as if it were a residue of what you'd seen. When you left the room, still shaking, you said nothing; you didn't have to. The report was complete, you'd seen enough.

Later, in one of the complex's makeshift offices, you met with Valentina. You spoke in great detail about each team member's situation, going on at length when it was Bob's turn. Of course, you omitted details related to your vision. She listened more attentively than you would have expected. When you finished, she remained silent for a few seconds, as if digesting more than just information.

“Yeah, I understand all of this and I appreciate the work you did, but I need to ask you something.”

“Yes, what's wrong?”

“In this boy's case… Robert. What you're talking about inside him, that emptiness, that jumble of trauma and darkness… can it be fixed?”

You frowned, confused.

"What do you mean?"

“That's what unbalances him. That's what makes him dangerous. Can't it be extracted, sealed, purified…? With magic, spells, or whatever you use.”

You highly doubted she understood how the mystic arts worked, but you let it go. Instead, you tried to focus on how you could explain it to her.

“The emptiness inside Bob… isn't a curse that can be broken, or a creature that can be exorcised. It's not an external demon that can be sealed away with an incantation and that's it. It's part of him. As is his strength and his light. The problem is that his darkness isn't integrated; it's fragmented. Repressed. And when something that powerful is denied or hidden for so long, it finds its own way out.”

You paused to see if she was still with you. Valentina didn't say anything, but nodded expectantly.

“The mystical arts don't work like surgery. We don't extract. We accompany. We guide. We teach how to see what others prefer to ignore. There's a principle we learn from day one at Kamar-Taj: 'What you deny, subdues you. What you accept, transforms you.' Bob needs to learn to look at his shadow without being destroyed. To live with it without being consumed by it. It's slow, arduous, and not always linear work. There will be setbacks. But it's possible.”

Valentina crossed her arms, thoughtful.

"And can you do that with him? Help him through that process?"

You leaned forward, making sure your tone was firm.

“I can teach him techniques of emotional containment, breathing, mantras, symbolic anchoring. I can guide him through deep meditations that allow him to visualize and reconfigure your relationship with The Void. But I can't do it for him; it's a process he has to start on his own.”

“Okay, then start that training or whatever, as soon as possible.”

You blinked, puzzled.

“I don’t understand. You hired me to do a team assessment. To identify potential risks.”

“And you found one,” she replied bluntly, leaning in as if about to reveal an intimate confession. “Listen, this group is an experiment. A rehearsal. And if something goes wrong, it could cost me more than I’m already risking. So yes, I hired you to do an assessment, but also because I need solutions. Not just to identify problems, but to fix them. And Bob… well, he’s got tremendous potential. But he’s also very insane, do you follow me?”

You didn't say anything, you just watched her.

“What I want is simple: for you to help me rebuild him. To mold him so he can use his power without breaking. For it to learn self-regulation. For Sentry to appear when we need him, not when he collapses. I don’t want to throw away the entire project just because he has… this small flaw in his internal programming. Do you see what I mean?”

The coldness with which she spoke made your skin crawl. You'd met many dangerous people in your life, but few with that mix of pragmatism and disdain for humanity. Valentina wasn't interested in helping Bob. She didn't want to cure him, or understand him. She just wanted to harness his power. Use him… until he was of no use.

You cleared your throat before answering:

“I could do it, yes. But I don't know how long it will take.”

“You’re the only viable option I have right now, so I’m in no position to demand miracles, honey. Just results. I want you installed at The Watchtower so you can start working with Robert.”

You narrowed your eyes, gauging his tone.

“Is this an offer or an order?”

“I’m hiring you,” she murmured, almost condescendingly. “I don’t suppose you want to go back to that horrible apartment in the Bronx, do you? Why not put your talents to work on something that will really make a difference?”

You stayed silent for a second longer than necessary. Because you knew exactly what she meant by making a difference. And it wasn't saving Bob. It was using him. Taming him. Making him obey.

And if you didn't intervene... she'd probably succeed.

You pressed your lips together for a moment. Not out of fear. Not out of submission. But because something inside you—something older than your training, deeper than your vows at Kamar -Taj—stirred at the thought of leaving Bob alone with that darkness.

“Fine,” you said at last, in a low but firm voice.

Valentina smiled, satisfied, as if she had won a chess game that only she was playing.

“I knew you’d see the value in this,” she muttered, giving you an unnecessary pat on the arm before turning to leave.

You didn't say anything else. You watched her walk away, elegant and dangerous like an expensive poison. Then you lowered your gaze and let out the breath you'd been holding throughout the exchange.

She was wrong; you hadn't agreed for any trivial reason like the one she was suggesting. You did it because there was something in Bob you recognized.

That silent struggle, that shadow that threatened to swallow him up from within, was not foreign to you. And you thought that if someone had ever stopped to teach you how to look at your darkness without fear... perhaps you, too, would have taken less time to learn to live with it.

So, months passed. And it wasn't easy.

There were good days, when Bob could concentrate for more than an hour at a time, when his thoughts didn't fragment, when you could see him laugh—a little forced at first, more natural with time.

And there were bad days. Days when he woke up drenched in sweat, apologizing for things he couldn't remember doing. Days when The Void whispered in your dreams, looking for cracks to enter.

But despite everything, you began to find a rhythm.

At first, he didn't talk much. His words were few, but his ability to absorb knowledge was astonishingly quick. You, for your part, didn't dwell on long explanations or useless words either; you knew exactly what kind of discipline he needed to channel the chaotic energy that consumed him from within. You were neither his therapist nor his jailer, but rather that steady, silent buoy he could cling to when the internal waters threatened to drown him.

As the months passed, the closeness became inevitable. It wasn't a surprise that, amidst rigor and patience, a genuine friendship developed. You lived apart from most of the tower's tenants, and your interactions with them were sporadic and superficial. You spent most of your time studying, learning more, and finding new ways to help him find a balance that seemed elusive. Bob had become your most cherished project, that silent goal that kept you up until the wee hours, hoping he would achieve such a firm grasp that he would one day be worthy of occupying one of the sanctuaries.

That morning, the training room was empty except for the two of you. It was a routine you had established with discipline: getting up early, before dawn, to meditate and prepare your mind before leading him through his training.

“Being at peace with yourself is the key to learning,” you had once told him, with the gentleness of someone offering vital advice.

At the time, he'd found it absurd. Now, it was an essential part of his daily life.

You had carefully prepared the space: the floor covered with thin, noise-dampening mats, the walls reinforced with invisible layers of arcane protection that you had delicately and precisely inscribed yourself. In one corner, a small burner let the lingering scent of incense flow, a symbolic gesture that helped Bob achieve that meditative state, even though he swore he only liked the smell.

Bob sat in the center of the room, legs crossed, torso erect, palms open, exposed like tiny antennas capturing energy. He breathed slowly, following the rhythm you set with the soft jingle of an antique locket around your neck.

“Inhale… hold… exhale”

You sat across from him, replicating the same position. You watched him silently, noticing how that roaring mass of energy that once seemed to devour him was now contained just below the surface. Vibrant, yes. Threatening, perhaps. But controlled, enough for him to manipulate it and, above all, not let himself be consumed by it.

“Do you feel the flow?” you asked.

Bob nodded slowly with his eyes closed.

“Yes. I always… feel like he’s watching me. But now he’s not screaming anymore.”

You smiled slightly, with that mixture of relief and pride you felt when seeing his progress.

“That means he’s listening. You’re in control.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a mixture of doubt and hope.

“Do you think I could ever live without it? Without him.”

The question was profound, and you were slow to answer because the truth was complex. However, you chose honesty.

“I don’t think so. But you can live with it. Without fearing it, without letting it speak for you. Just like now.”

Bob looked down thoughtfully.

“It's different here than anywhere else. Here I'm calm, at peace… with you. If something bad happens, you guide me. But I don't know if I'll be able to stay that way in a critical situation or the face of a real threat.”

“That’s something you learn over time,” you assured him. “Look at yourself when we started and look at yourself now. Are you still where you are?”

He firmly denied it.

“You’ll get it. I promise.”

“How long have you been training to have the mastery you have now?”

Bob had begun digging into your private life a few weeks ago. It wasn't that you minded, but it was unexpected to have to talk about yourself with him. You were supposed to maintain the composure of a mentor, helping him reach his potential without getting emotional.

“Nine years”

His face lit up with amazement.

“It’s a long time.”

"Yes, but I'm dedicated to the mystical arts. With you, we're just seeking balance."

That seemed to comfort him a little. You could tell from the small smile he gave you.

“And you face demons and things like that? Monsters?”

“Sometimes,” you laughed, “Other times they are aliens, beings from other universes, dark wizards… it depends on the teacher who needs my help.”

“That’s so cool, ” he confessed with admiration.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, as his interest seemed almost endearing. You, too, had felt that fascination at first, but over time, you'd grown accustomed to it and were no longer surprised by it.

“Yours isn't bad either. Sentry, the being with the strength of a thousand burning suns...”

“Oh, but it’s no use if I don’t know how to control it,” he replied “It’s wasted power.”

“Where there is light, by law there must be darkness, Bob. We can't live any other way. The universe is meant to contain this duality in every particle that makes it up. You just have to know when to turn to one or the other.”

He nodded, processing your words seriously.

"How do you become so wise? Like you."

“I’m not wise, at least not in the way you think,” you said with a faint smile. “In fact, I’m extremely stupid. But that’s why I’m here. The key is to make mistakes and learn from them, to grow every day.”

“I hope my mistakes don’t cost anyone their life,” he murmured sincerely.

A heavy silence settled between you. Your mistakes had cost lives. They almost cost you yours.

“I hope so too. Otherwise, it would reflect poorly on me as a mentor.”

He didn't take it the wrong way, but instead used it as an opportunity to ease the tension with a little joke. You got up to get a Chinese teapot while he sighed, anticipating what was coming.

“Are we going to work with tea?” he asked timidly.

You nodded with a smile.

“How did you feel last time?”

“Scared and tired. My head hurt.”

“More or less than before?”

“Less. It was a little less.”

“You'll get used to it, it'll get lighter and lighter. Drink.”

The blend was a little lighter, with a deep, earthy aroma, hints of sage and star anise. Bob took the small cup you offered him and drank it in one gulp, despite the temperature.

The silence that followed was different: more attentive, denser. You had begun working with sacred infusions you learned at Kamar-Taj, prepared with ingredients that encouraged introspection. They were called "soft doors" because they didn't force violent visions or provoke chaotic hallucinations, but rather opened memories in layers, as if one were gently sliding into them.

You sat down in front of him and closed your eyes, feeling the energy of the place synchronize with his breathing.

“Don’t hold on if it gets dark,” you whispered. “Just watch. I’m here with you.”

He nodded, calmer, and closed his eyes.

The infusion began to take effect with the slowness of a tide rising without warning. Bob's shoulders relaxed, but his face became tense, as if something was tugging at him from within. His lips parted slightly.

“I’m… there again. In the white room.”

Keeping your eyes closed, palms open on your thighs, you focused on his words.

"Is it the same one as before? The one with the door without a handle?"

“Yes. But it’s ajar now… I don’t know if I want to look.”

“You don’t have to cross it. Just approach it.”

Bob nodded slightly, his breathing becoming uneven, but he didn't back down.

“There’s a shadow… its back is turned. It’s waiting for me.”

“It’s not real,” you whispered. “It’s a reflection of something that was. It can’t touch you here.”

“But it’s me.”

You had learned that most of his visions related to himself, his greatest regrets manifested in spectral form. His hands clenched on his knees, and sweat began to dampen his forehead. You didn't move, you remained stationary.

“What are you doing?”

“It's just there. But I feel like if it turns around… if I look at him… it'll all come back.”

The pressure in the air grew palpable, as if the shadow were taking control of the place. You took a deep breath and spoke to him in a low, firm voice:

“Then don’t look at him. Look around. What’s in that room besides him?”

It took Bob a few seconds to respond.

“Broken glass. It floats, as if something had exploded. But there’s no sound.”

“Can you touch them?”

He reached out a trembling hand, as if he really saw them.

“Yes. One stuck to my skin.”

“What does it show you?”

Bob shuddered, a low moan escaping his throat.

“My mother is crying in a chair. I'm hiding. She calls me… but I don't go.”

“It’s just a memory,” you said softly. “You can’t change it, but you can be present now. You’re not that child anymore.”

Bob swallowed.

“I don’t want her to cry for me again.”

“What comes next?”

The room began to oscillate as if it were liquid. Bob blinked several times, his breathing quickened, but he didn't come out of the trance.

“Can you leave the room?”

“There’s another door at the back. It’s bright, it has no shadow.”

“Do you want to go there?”

Silence. He hesitated.

“I don’t want to. Not yet.”

"Alright."

You let him breathe deeply for a while, until his chest calmed. You closed the energy circle with a subtle gesture, and his pupils stopped trembling.

“I’m back,” he said hoarsely and opened his eyes.

His fingers were damp with sweat, but he wasn't hugging his body like before. He didn't seem to be running away from himself.

"How do you feel?"

"Confused"

You watched him calmly.

“You did well, Bob. Very well.”

The silence returned, thick and heavy, perhaps reflecting on what he'd seen. Your sessions always left him mentally exhausted, but after a few hours of rest, the benefit outweighed the sacrifice.

Suddenly, he lay back on the linoleum, stretching his limbs and letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing.

“Come, lie down next to me.”

You hesitated for a moment, but finally settled down next to him.

“I've always liked lying on the floor since I was a kid. I did it when I needed to calm down.”

His voice was a whisper, barely a murmur.

“It’s hard growing up in a home that never feels like one, isn’t it?”

Bob nodded silently and then turned slightly to look at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You hummed an affirmative response.

“It’s about the vision you had the first time we met, remember? Is it real?”

“Do you want to know if it happened?”

He nodded.

“Yes, it happened.”

You didn't want to elaborate, and he didn't press the issue. You suddenly felt exposed. Witnessing your mother's suicide wasn't a story you were keen to tell. But with Bob, the line between teacher and student blurred more than either of you wanted to admit.

You stared at the ceiling, wishing the silence would envelop them calmly.

Thus, in that cold room, where magic and pain converged, a bond began to form that would be much stronger than any shadow.

A few minutes passed without either of them saying a word, just the subtle sound of the wind blowing through the cracks in the window. The morning light filtered through in faint beams, creating irregular patches on the floor where they both lay.

“Sometimes,” you began quietly, as if sharing a secret, “I think our wounds are the source of our strength. Not because we desire them, but because they force us to find ourselves.”

Bob turned his head to look at you, and although his eyes still reflected the internal battle he was waging, there was a new spark in them: a flame that withstood the storm.

“It’s not always easy to see the light during chaos,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “But with you… I feel like I can try.”

You felt touched by his confession, by the vulnerability he displayed without fear.

Silence fell again, but this time it was a silence filled with meaning, as if it were the invisible bridge connecting you. You stood up slowly, helping him do the same. The years of training and suffering Bob had endured hadn't broken him; on the contrary, they seemed to mold him into something greater.

“Let’s get ready for today’s session,” you said, letting the warmth fall into your voice.

You began to prepare the place, calmly, being observed by him at all times.

“Do you think I can ever not be afraid?”

“Fear never goes away. You'll learn to live with it, to recognize it, and not let it paralyze you. And then you'll find your balance.”

“And when I can find that balance, if I ever do…” he began, his voice low, “Will I never see you again?”

You stopped to observe him.

“That's up to you. Spiritually, you won't need me. If it's about hanging out with a friend, then I'm always available.”

The word friend felt sweet on your lips. Bob was more pleased than he would have liked to hear your response.

“I like the sound of that.”

A faint glimmer of confidence lit his face. That moment felt like a small victory in the long battle you had both shared.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still: the air, time, the invisible wounds that marked you. In that shared silence, you knew that, no matter what the future held, you had something unbreakable—a deep connection, a refuge amidst the chaos.

As you sat up, a slight change in the air caught your attention. A barely perceptible murmur, like a distant sigh or the rustle of a page turning, filled the room. It was a faint, almost imperceptible signal that made your senses tense slightly.

It wasn't time yet, but you knew it would soon arrive: a call you couldn't ignore, a shadow on the horizon... a door you'd soon have to open.

For now, the present was sufficient. Bob was here, with you, and that was enough.

tag list (thanks, pretty!): @littlemsbumblebee

[ozzgin]

Yandere School Q&A

I've gotten some related asks and thought I'd put them in a cleaner format, so I don't spawn another round of screenshots from my inbox.

Ohhh how would yan school react if y/n got hurt somehow?? Also quick question is her parents also platonic yans for them? Thanks!! - Anonymous

It only makes sense that the staff of the school is yandere material, too. The students may rush to help and insist they've got it under control, but the school nurse will be quick to act. It's the chance of a lifetime, having you to himself, and for longer than the usual standard checkup. The curtains are pulled, and the "do not disturb" sign is flipped. Your injuries are not to be taken lightly. You'll need to spend all day under his supervision.

The parents and all relatives are indeed platonic yanderes! I thought it'd be a nice touch since I've never approached the trope before.

YAYAYAYYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAA MORE YANDERE SCHOOLLLLLL You’re amazing!!!!! (I had to ask to make sure I used the right your/you’re) also is the darling yandere gonna keep sabotaging y/n? - @femboybasil

The tying up incident was actually an exception to what I originally planned, haha. For most of the competitions, darling yandere will guide (Y/N) and aid them for a flawless win. That's the comedy of it: he's indirectly doing the yandere part while trying to be discreet enough as to not alert the other yanderes. Additionally, (Y/N) helps him with the darling tasks. Though that part is very much expected by everyone from school. The Daring Academy teachers are probably observing the activities, baffled. "Who the hell is that student? What skill...what obliviousness. They should've applied to us."

If you’re comfortable with this concept, (since it’s a school-based series I don’t know if the reader and yanderes are minors are not, if they are then you don’t have to write this.) but obviously the students of the Yandere Academy are going to need to learn how to tie up their darlings once they’ve been captured. Would you mind writing a little blurb about it since Reader is the unofficially assigned darling stand-in for their classes? - Anonymous

This is the ask I used for the tying up idea in Part 3! To answer your worries, all of my stories involve 18+ characters! Just wanted to clear it up for anyone in doubt. The school/academy setup is more of a college/university kind of institution. I do love a good high school setup, but not for self insert romance.

I’d imagine that there’s a drama class at the yandere school to help the students learn how to act and seem innocent. What if they put on a musical or something like Phantom of the Opera (because of course it would be that) and reader got the role of Christine or the equivalent. Imagine all the yanderes fighting for the role of their love interests to get the excuse to kiss them, and other yanderes trying to sabotage them as tactfully as possible to keep the show going, but replace the leads to be alongside reader. Think that may be something cool to add/write about? No pressure of course! - Anonymous

You know the whole thing is going to turn into a ninja survival shitshow. They had hoped to never cast (Y/N) in any role, for everyone's safety. And for the most part, (Y/N) thankfully never showed any interest in the drama club.

The supervising teacher held (Y/N)'s application form with trembling hands. It seems their little club had finally run out of luck.

Worst part: the school can't even rely on the teachers. They're just as desperate to see their cute little (Y/N) perform on stage. "Maybe this job is too overwhelming for one person, sensei..." they'll smugly tell the original supervisor. "We could divide some tasks. Someone else could train (Y/N), for example..."

ok here me out, what if there is like a field trip or sports festival kind of thing where the Yandere and Darling academy meet up. Basically where a Yandere and a darling are made to pair up to go through the numerous activities (maybe ones that test their yandere/darling skills) so reader decides to pair up with clumsy Yandere ( who is in Darling academy) much to the displeasure of Yandere classmate. Maybe like a battle of the the Yanderes? - Anonymous

This was a little trippy to read, because it came right after part 3, haha. Which I feel is basically the same plot. Though it would be interesting to see how it'd play out if the stranger was Reader's best friend instead.

Reader excitedly approaches Clumsy!Yandere and asks him to work together, to the dismay of all other students. They're enraged. You can see it plainly: their hands tremble, their jaws are clenched, their eyes have a psychotic glint. Poor Clumsy!Yandere is in constant shivers, unaware of the death stares. You're cheerfully guiding him around, his hand in yours, happy to see your friend again.

[gurugirl]

Can We Start Over? | Ch. 2 The Job Offer

Series Summary: From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? rich!harry x plus size!reader | enemies to lovers

A/N: This is a 5 part series commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you hon!).

Chapter 2. Summary: You can't stop thinking about what happened the night you met Harry and how much you hate him. But then you get some really good news about a new job. Except there's a catch.

Word Count: 9k

Warning: 18+ only, angst, alcohol consumption

Can We Start Over? masterlist

“Oh my god, Y/n. What a fucking dick. But your response was gold! I wish you’d stayed to see what happened. Holy shit!” Brandy laughed as she clinked her glass with yours, “That was some gangster shit right there!”

You both laughed at your recount of what had happened with Harry. You met your best friend Brandy for Sunday brunch at your usual spot. You had called her on Saturday after your exit paperwork was taken care of with Mr. Spector and said you had some very interesting news to tell her but that you wanted to share it in person. This wasn’t over-the-phone kind of gossip. It was a with-a-martini-in-hand face-to-face kind of gossip.

“And besides… the most important thing is at least you got off. Typical fuck-boy, good in bed but an absolute slut.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And it doesn’t bother me too much, really. Not now. Plus Mr. Spector gave me a really nice parting bonus. And I’m sure I’ll be matched with someone soon for another gig but even if it takes a few months, I won’t have to dig into savings thanks to him.”

And it was true. Mr. Spector presented you with the check and a hug and well wishes and you were nearly in tears by the time you left his estate. The movers were there the whole time, taking furniture out of his lovely home. A home you’d gotten to become very familiar with over the years. You held events and small parties there, you helped him redecorate the master suite and all the bathrooms (well you organized it all and helped the decorators and builders with the design and material selection). You even had your own room there. Not that you often needed to stay but that was part of your job description as a personal assistant. Sometimes you needed to stay. But usually, you’d go home at night.

The service that you worked for assured you there were a few clients in need of a personal assistant and if it was a good match, they’d refer you. That was important. To have the right match. You were lucky you were single and without kids. That meant you were more flexible. But that didn’t guarantee a good match.

You were sure you’d be enjoying a couple of weeks off work off to do nothing. It sounded fantastic.

.           .           .

You hadn’t expected to get an offer so soon. When Monica emailed you on Monday afternoon with the file and details of your new assignment (if you accepted) you perused the document with your mouth agape. You’d been matched with someone with what was known as stealth wealth (most were), who traveled frequently. You’d need to keep a bedroom in their home (not out of the norm) and travel with them from country to country. You would negotiate holidays and time off once meeting in person but the salary offered was the first thing you saw when you looked at the contract. There was no pressure to sign but how could you say no to an offer that would erase your college debt and allow you to buy a home in a year? You couldn’t let this one slip away. 

You emailed Monica back right away that you’d accept it and like to move forward. The next step would be to meet in person. Then, you’d find out more about who you’d be working for. The service was very discreet. The client was always given absolute anonymity until it was time for the first meeting.

You stared at your computer screen as if to will Monica to respond faster. Sipping your coffee you tapped your foot against the floor in anticipation. You kind of would have enjoyed some time off. A week or two of downtime. Sleeping in. Catching up on all the movies and shows you hadn’t had time to watch on Netflix. Order in pizza and Chinese, and day drink in your pajamas. But this opportunity wouldn’t be on the table for much longer. Another person would snatch this up in a heartbeat. That dollar sign alone would see to it.

When Monica finally responded you placed your mug of coffee down, held your breath, and clicked the email.

You’ll be meeting with the client tomorrow at 8:00 am at an address that will be sent to you via our private messaging app at 5:00 am. He requests you bring a physical copy of your resume and if you both agree to terms tomorrow he’ll bump up your salary 10% automatically. Confirm this is okay and I’ll set up the rest. Monica

You squealed as you quickly typed back a resounding Yes! Book it! Thank you!

You stood up and paced. Okay. So you learned the client was a he. Well, you’d blow him away. You’d make him want to hire you on the spot with that lovely little 10% bump.

You already knew the outfit. Thanks to working for Mr. Spector, you’d been allotted a stipend for very nice, and well-tailored outfits for when you needed to look chic and professional. Great for a first meeting, your double-breasted jacquard wool coat in neutral colors with a pop of blue, and your blue silk button-up tucked into your jacquard wool skirt, matching the coat. Stylish, flattering, and appropriate for meetings with a wealthy man who would undoubtedly be dressed very nicely as well.

It was perfect. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d gotten. A new assignment so quickly and one that paid so well? It felt like fate.

.           .           .          

Harry had his house manager, Lucio, contact a highly recommended service to find a personal assistant for himself. He hated to find someone new because that was just one more person who knew his business. And he preferred having very few people in his circle. But Thasi was dumb. He couldn’t bear to have her working for him another minute. She had trouble with very basic tasks, like adding events to his calendar. She’d even missed two flights that he had booked for her and the last flight she missed he only realized it when she came into his study with a folder asking him about an account he needed to close out.

He stood from his desk and looked at the girl in astonishment, “Thasi. Why are you not 30,000 feet in the air right now? Why are you here standing in my house asking me this question? You are meant to be headed to New York City.” His voice was firm. Irritated.

The girl dropped her mouth open and blinked her eyes until it had finally dawned on her that she had forgotten to make her flight to meet with an art dealer on Harry’s behalf.

“I take it by the look on your face that you now realize your irreversible blunder. You’re fired. I’ll have your things sent back to your home by tomorrow afternoon.”

The poor girl couldn’t even argue with him. She knew she’d blown it. That was her second missed flight, of equal importance. And Harry felt he’d been quite generous and patient with her by giving her another chance. But he shouldn’t have.

So when he learned about Personal Premier Services from a few of his colleagues he decided to look for a PA that way rather than on his own like he had with Thasi. Harry’d had good luck finding staff for everything he needed for the last five years without help. The personal assistant was something rather new to him as he usually did most of his own errands by himself or had Lucio do them. But things were changing in his business and he needed an assistant quite desperately.

Harry woke before the sun rose and took his morning jog. He loved getting his day started earlier than most people. It meant he had time to do things like, exercise, catch up on world news, meditate, shower, and eat breakfast all before most other people would even be out of their beds. He also wished he could just stay awake forever. Wished he didn’t need sleep. There were so many things he could accomplish during the hours he wasted sleeping. But, being that he was only a mere human, his body required sleep.

“Sir? Y/n Y/l/n has just arrived. I have her waiting in the sitting room. Would you like me to bring her up?”

Harry cocked his head and looked to Lucio as he sat his pen down, “What did you say her name was again?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

Why did that name somehow feel so familiar?

“No. That’s okay, Lucio.” He stood from his chair, “I’ll go and greet her myself. Thank you.”

Harry’s immediate instincts told him that name was familiar. But why? And oddly, he first let his mind wander to it being you. But it couldn’t be. You were at the ball and he was certain you were wealthy just like him based on your outfit and your demeanor. He’d only gotten your first name that night, not your last name. And while Y/n was your name, the person looking for a job waiting for him downstairs certainly wouldn’t be the same woman who had put a used condom on his hotel door’s handle only to have his now ex-friend-whatever-she-was find it.

Yes. The ex-friend. Aster. He knew he should have stopped their little arrangement before she got too attached. It was never meant to be anything serious. From the start, he told her he was seeing other people but she never wanted to hear about anyone else he might have been sleeping with. And when he realized she started getting attached he should have recognized it was time to end it. But he didn’t.

Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed.

The knocking on his door had come a lot faster than he’d hoped. Aster wasn’t even supposed to be there. Her flight had been canceled so she wasn’t going to make it to New York City. He told her he’d see her the following day when he flew back. But of course, she rebooked a later flight without him knowing. As a surprise. And the call from Aster telling him she was on her way had shocked him and really put a damper on the night he thought he’d be enjoying with you. He just hoped she hadn’t passed you on her way to the door.

As soon as he opened it up, Aster slapped him across the face and held up a napkin with a blush-colored lip stain on it and a scribbled note. But what really had his attention was a droopy condom on his doorknob. Fresh with his come.

“What the fuck, Harry? What the fuck?!”

“Aster, I don’t… what is this?” He knew goddamn well what it was. It was you. “I think someone is just playing a joke on me. This isn’t mine…”

“The note, Harry? Whoever it is knows your fucking name.” Aster pushed passed him to make her way into the room.

Harry looked down the hallway and then cringed as he pulled the condom from the knob with the discarded tissue he picked up off the floor.

“Babe, this was just a cruel joke from someone–“

“Don’t you dare call me babe! And I don’t believe you. Who is going to play this kind of joke on you and then write your name on a napkin from the event you were just at?” She tossed him the napkin, “Hmm? I bet I know who. Someone you just fucked and kicked out because you didn’t think I’d come.”

Harry looked down at the napkin. Sure enough, it said A Secret Garden in the City with Alfred Spector’s company logo printed on it, as well as the note you’d written – Thank you, Harry xx. Bitch. He dropped the napkin onto the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t know what to say. And it wasn’t like he’d been all that serious about Aster to begin with. She was gorgeous and they’d known one another for a while but that was where his attraction ended. In all honesty, he didn’t like her that much. Perhaps this was for the better, as much of an asshole as that made him seem.

“Aster, look…” he sighed and sat down at the edge of the messy bed, “You and I weren’t exactly serious. It’s always just been casual. You know that,” he looked at her with her hands on her hips, red in the face, tears just breaking her lash line. “I’m sorry. You and I were never headed for marriage. It was just some fun for a bit.”

“Some fun? I flew out here to see you on a whim. Not because I thought you were just a bit of fun but because I actually did like you. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t think I could have ever pictured myself marrying someone like you. Selfish, pathetic, overly regimented. You’re doomed to die alone, Harry.”

She pressed her lips together and waited for a response but when it didn’t come she stomped toward the door, slamming it behind her on her way out.

Harry smoothed his expensive blazer out and brushed off the feeling he was getting as he walked through the hallway to the foyer and then peeked into the sitting area where his interviewee would be sitting and waiting for him.

He nearly jumped back when his eyes met yours. Both of your faces held the same expression. Complete shock lined with minor disgust.

“This must be a joke,” you stood up from the plush silk-lined chair you’d been sitting in and looked around the room as if someone were going to pop out and tell you that you were on that show, Candid Camera, and it was all for a good laugh.

But the only person in your sight was the man you had a one-night stand with. The cocky asshole who’d treated you like garbage and then kicked you out of his room when he got a call from someone.

“I think there must be a mistake… You’re… are you a personal assistant? I’m confused.” Harry mimicked your body language, pivoting himself to look around to see if he could find someone and demand answers.

“Yes. That’s what I do for a living. But clearly, I have no intention of working for anyone like you, so if you don’t mind…” you picked up your briefcase and began to walk toward Harry to move past him and see yourself out.

But just as you walked through the threshold of the sitting room to the foyer Harry spoke, “Y/n.”

You stopped and turned to look at him in question.

“Come. Let’s have a chat,” he turned and began walking toward the grand stairwell that led upstairs, turning back to make sure you were following.

You blinked your eyes and scoffed as you looked down at your red-painted nails. Should you follow him? What would be the point? Just to hear him insult you and turn you away at the end anyway?

“You are looking for a job, are you not?” Harry spoke from the bottom of the stairwell, his hand on the lacquered wooden banister.

“I am. But… I don’t think this would work out.” You gestured at him.

“You and I are professionals and you come highly regarded. I’m in great need of an assistant. At the very least we can have a discussion and see where it takes us. I don’t like my time wasted and I’m sure you don’t either. You came all the way here. Let’s at least talk.”

Harry thought you looked cute and he could see the gears turning in your head. He could deal with the one night he’d had with you and the very improper thing you’d done which outed him to Aster if you were good at what you did.

“Yeah, but we…” you chose your words carefully, “Friday night? I honestly don’t think–“

“I can look past that if you can. This is strictly professional. I’ve no interest in anything more.”

What were you to do? He hadn’t just been a one-night stand. He was an asshole. Could he really pretend that none of that had happened? Could you?

But. There was the matter of the salary he was offering. An enticing and frankly irresistible number that could have you swallowing your pride.

“Fine. But I can assure you I will not tolerate being treated like…” you paused to carefully choose your words again. You were certain his house had staff listening in.

Before you could find the word you were seeking, Harry spoke, “Like an assistant who is paid to do her job flawlessly?” He began to take the steps upward and you followed.

You frowned at his description. As if you wouldn’t do your job flawlessly. You weren’t sure what he was implying but you had a bad feeling about this.

When you followed him into a large study with dark woods and big windows with heavy drapes, a huge walnut desk with an expensive chair and bookshelves lining one of the walls he closed, and locked, you noted, the door behind himself, “Sit.”

You looked at the plushy green velvet chairs with tufted cushions and ornate carvings in the arms and legs and placed your bag down on the chair next to the one you sat in. He sat in his own chair at his desk and looked at you, a harsh expression on his face. He was far more intimidating in this setting.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he spoke clearly as he kept his eyes pinned to yours, “What you did when you left that night is unforgivable in a personal setting. And because of that, you and I will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work well together as boss and employee. I expect complete discretion and a professional attitude from anyone that works for me. Is that a problem for you?”

You felt your ears growing hot as your anger slowly rose, “I am the most professional and discreet personal assistant you’ll ever find. Anyone else will disappoint you and I would also expect that any employer would treat me professionally and fairly. What you did to me that night was insulting and something I will never forget nor forgive. So don’t worry, I’d never want to be a friend to anyone like you.” 

Harry clenched his jaw at your response and nodded, “Fair enough. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk job details and salary.” Harry looked down at his folder and opened it up.

“Salary? That part was already determined. Plus 10% on top if we come to an agreement on terms of employment today.” You reminded him.

Harry laughed and looked up at you with his head tilted to the side as if he were curious about you, “That was before I knew who I was offering such a generous salary to.” He looked down at the paper in front of him, marking something out and scribbling over it. He held the sheet of paper out to you.

You squinted at him and leaned forward to take the paper and your eyes widened at the new number he’d written in on the contract. You laughed and crumpled the paper as you stood from your chair, dropping it onto the floor and lifting your bag, “Goodbye, Mr. Styles.”

Turning and walking over the grand Persian rug that took up most of the floor you reached for the handle and when you pulled realized the door was locked. You placed your fingers over the keyhole and turned back to the smug fucker. He sat comfortably in his chair with his brows raised at you, unimpressed.

“Unlock the fucking door. This conversation is over.” You were fuming.

“And why’s that? I feel like that’s just a starting place. A negotiation if you will. Tell me why you deserve more and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“This isn’t a game. You had a perfectly fine offer that I was willing to negotiate off of but now you’re just insulting me, once again might add. I’d never work for anyone for that wage. Much less a self-absorbed man who treats women like rubbish.”

Harry folded his lips into his mouth as he tampered his grin. His cocky attitude was infuriating, “Oh please. Save the dramatics. Sit.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “No. You’re an overly egotistical moron with nothing to back it up. I will not stand for being insulted this way.”

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and began to walk toward you, “Nothing to back it up? Wrong,” he grinned as he looked around his extravagantly decorated room and back toward you, “This home is a great example of what I’ve got to show for my accomplishments. My bank accounts as well,” he slowly walked to your side and put his hand onto the heavy oak door you were standing in front of as he licked his lips and looked down at your outfit before looking directly into your eyes, “And I’m pretty sure I had you crying my name over and over again when I made you come. I’d say that’s a great reason for my inflated ego. You certainly thought I was great when I had my dick inside of you.”

You swallowed and then scowled at his nerve to bring up such a thing, “Well, like you said, I’m a bit dramatic. I was overplaying it that night because I didn’t want you to feel bad. Now open the fucking door.”

Harry’s smirk didn’t fall as he leaned in closer, “Liar. You loved it,” then he backed away, giving you enough space to breathe, “Not that you’ll ever have a chance to experience it again.”

“Like I’d want that little thing anywhere near me. Now, are you gonna open the door or do I need to call 911 for attempted kidnapping?” You dug into your bag and pulled your cell phone out.

Harry laughed and you watched in dismay as his dimples appeared. He looked too handsome to be such an asshole. He put his hands up in surrender, “Okay. Fine. We’ll go back to negotiating off the original salary plus 10%. Okay?”

You sighed. You hated that you were even considering it. The salary he was offering was too good, though. You could handle him if he kept personal matters out of your working relationship. The worst-case scenario would be that you quit and told the service about him and how he treated you (of course you’d gather evidence so no one else had to put up with his shit) and then find another job working for someone else.

You rolled your eyes and moved past him to go back to your seat.

Harry rounded the desk and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk once again, just like he’d done when you both first sat down to negotiate terms, “There we go. Money talks doesn’t it?”

Unfortunately, he was right. Money does talk.

You rolled your eyes again and looked at the back corner of his office to relieve yourself from his intense gaze.

“Less attitude, Y/n. Let’s begin, shall we?”

You suffered through an hour of going back and forth on expectations with Harry but at the end realized it wasn’t that bad. Once you both got out your frustrations at the beginning it seemed to flow smoothly after.

You even talked him into paying you 15% more, rather than just the 10%. Which you felt was a big win. Harry didn’t seem that phased by it.

He led you to what would be your room, which had your jaw dropping to the floor. It was… gorgeous. Like the rest of the house, it was grand and old but well-kept. The wide plank dark floors were covered with a light cream wool rug with small yellow, green, and blue flowers woven into the fabric. Long soft, lacy drapes hung from the ceiling and brushed against the floor over the tall windows that overlooked the massive back garden full of trees and flowers and fountains. The king-sized four-poster bed had a pale yellow, silk canopy with tiny blue birds sewn into the material. The bedspread was white silk with the same yellow and blue birds sewn in. Ornate, heavy wooden side tables, a dresser with a big vanity and silk-covered cushion sat across from the bed. An antique chandelier hung in the center of the room, high above the bed. Flowers and potted plants with green leaves rounded out the space. There were two closed doors. One led to a small closet (not a surprise it was so small for the period of the house), and the other to a fully updated, spa bathroom which… you really had to pause for a bit as you took it all in.

Harry handed you keys to the house and a fob key that would allow you in the gates that surrounded the home and told you to arrange to have your things moved in by the following day (on his tab) and that you would start work at 8am sharp.

You called Brandy the moment you drove out of the gates to tell her what had just happened.

“It’s him. It’s the asshole one-night stand. I just accepted the offer to be his assistant.”

“I’m coming over with a bottle of wine. I need details in person.”

“Brandy, I’ve got to make arrangements and get everything ready, I don’t know…” you hemmed as you drove down the road with your heart beating fast in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d just accepted to work with Harry Styles.

“Don’t make stupid excuses with me. You can do all that with a glass of wine in your hand.”

.           .           .

“I see why you took the job. Damn. I’m jealous,” Brandy spoke as she stood in your bedroom doorway while you packed up things you’d need right away. Harry explained that you’d be staying at his house more often during the week than your own apartment. He ran a tight schedule and driving an hour to his house every morning didn’t sound appealing and he didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Yeah. I was going to say no. I really was but… how can I turn down that offer? I’ve never made so much in my life and honestly? Probably never will again. I figure it’ll be like a trial run. We’ll see if he can be professional.”

You called around and found movers and arranged for them to have everything delivered to Harry’s address the following afternoon. It was still early in the day so you scheduled to have a set of your spare keys delivered by a courier by 5 pm so they could have access to your apartment the following day as you’d be gone.

You were busy the whole time Brandy was there but you were glad she was with you. You marked items you needed to have delivered and printed out a sheet of paper for a checklist for the movers.

But by the time your keys were picked up by the courier and you were halfway through the bottle of wine, you’d finally had time to sit and relax.

“You two are totally gonna fuck again,” Brandy grinned as she looked at the TV.

You scoffed and smacked her arm, “We are not. I’d never go near him again. Not after that night. I actually, fully despise him.”

“Yeah… sure. I mean… I know he was an asshole but also the way you spoke about how good he was in bed? How do you turn that down? You two are gonna practically be living together and traveling together. I don’t know… I looked him up. He’s hot, Y/n. An asshole but… we all have needs.”

Shaking your head you sipped your wine and ignored her. The thought had very very briefly crossed your mind but it was quickly pushed away because the reminder of how he treated you Friday night couldn’t be ignored. You’d never ever forget the way he made you feel so little and so disgusting.

“He literally cheated on someone while he was with me. He had a girlfriend. He fucked me as she was on her way over. Like…” you flailed your arms dramatically, “how could I possibly sleep with someone that is a cheater? I mean willingly? Now that I know?” You shook your head.

Still, Brandy didn’t seem deterred in her assumption, “Yeah… but we don’t really actually know who called him. And if it was someone he was seeing? I mean… come on. It’s not as if they were married. We can gather that much. Yeah, he’s shit for what he did but like… I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s not like he cheated on his wife or something.”

Brandy had always looked at things through rose-tinted glasses which was annoying. Where you were more practical and stubborn. There was no way you’d end up in his bed ever again. You didn’t know the excuse for why he kicked you out after he spoke on the phone and called someone babe. But that was beside the point. The more important factor was the way he treated you and that was simply unforgivable.

.           .           .

You were running late. You couldn’t believe it. Your alarm had gone off on time. You showered, ran through your quick morning routine, double-checked that all your things would be delivered to the correct address, and then you were on the road by 6:45 am. You allotted an extra 15 minutes in case of extra bad traffic.

But traffic is unpredictable.

“Hello?” Harry spoke into the receiver. You had your phone on speaker.

“Harry? Mr. Styles!” You corrected yourself, “Um… I’m stuck on the highway and it’s a bit backed up. I’m just giving you a heads up that I’ll be like…” You sighed and looked at the clock trying to make some kind of conservative estimate, “twenty minutes late?”

You heard him grunt in response and then sigh, “Fine. Please come up to my office the minute you walk in.” And then he hung up. That was it.

And of course, you half expected such a response. He gave you little indication of his opinion on you being late. You just hoped he didn’t hold it against you on your first day. It had genuinely been out of your hands. But then again, you being at the house with him on subsequent mornings would mean that being late in this way wouldn’t happen ever again.

When you parked at the front of the house you finagled your suitcase out of the backseat and lugged it up the front steps just as the door opened, “Good morning, Miss. Can I bring this to your room for you?” An older man stood with a smile as he scooped your suitcase away from you.

“Oh. Uh… Okay. Are you sure?” You followed him inside.

“Absolutely. Mr. Styles is expecting you right away.”

You swallowed and watched the man walk away as you took a breath. Your first day working for Harry Styles. Possibly also your last, depending on how everything went.

You climbed the stairs toward his study and knocked twice before pushing the door open gently.

“Come and sit.” He spoke right away. He didn’t even glance your way as he continued typing at his computer when he spoke.

You sat in the same chair you had the day previous and waited for him to finish whatever he was doing.

He cleared his throat and squinted at his computer screen, “I’m an art dealer as I mentioned yesterday. But… it’s more complicated than that sometimes. I deal in art and cultural artifacts that can sometimes be a bit…” he looked at you, “morally grey in the way they are handled. It’s rare but I do occasionally have opportunities and come across certain pieces when a collector is willing to pay an exorbitant finder’s fee for the item.”

“Morally grey. Which means illegal.” You corrected, keeping your eyes on him.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing I do is illegal. Some take issue with some of the items I procure and where they come from, but ultimately, everything I do is technically legal.”

You nodded. You didn’t know what he meant exactly. But you assumed you’d be finding out soon enough.

After Harry explained in detail your schedule from day to day, he had Lucio give you a quick tour of the parts of the house you didn’t see the day before. He even had a binder with your tentative weekly schedule, important numbers to have on hand, addresses, passcodes, a new laptop, and passwords to his login details for various online accounts. He also handed you a credit card, “You’ll make all your own arrangements as well as mine. The limit on this card will cover the cost of flights and accommodations. You and I will be traveling frequently, as I mentioned yesterday.”

Your morning was filled with short bursts of Harry giving you information and what to expect, but half of that consisted of you waiting while he spoke on the phone and typed out emails. You couldn’t imagine why an art dealer would be as busy as seemed to be. Clearly, he was making lots of money so there was no doubt that he was busy with clients. But why?

You researched the ins and outs of being an art dealer the evening before, once Brandy’s Uber arrived to take her home. The typical art dealer did not make the kind of money you knew Harry had. Most also typically worked through auctions, galleries, and museums. Harry seemed to be his own entity doing deals as an individual.  So you knew he wasn’t typical in his field.

At lunchtime you were hungry. You’d eaten something small before dashing to your car that morning but that had long been digested.

“Mr. Styles?” You looked at him from your spot in your chair as you closed your new laptop.

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s lunchtime for me. I was hoping I could get something to eat if that’s okay? You should probably also eat. I can bring you something if you take your lunch up here.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less if he ate, but you were so used to making sure Alfred ate that asking Harry was automatic.

Harry’s brows scrunched together and he looked at his computer screen, “Hadn’t realized the time. Sure. Feel free to make something for yourself or you can ask Carl to. I’d like a vegan cassoulet.”

You stood and looked at him in confusion, “A vegan… what?”

“A vegan cassoulet,” He pronounced the word obnoxiously, “Carl will know what I want. Just tell him.”

You repeated the word to yourself. Cas ooo lay – cas ooo lay… You thought it sounded like one of those French dishes you’d never ventured to try.

In the kitchen, you found Carl right away and told him what Harry wanted.

“And what for you?” He began to pull out pans and got to work right away.

“I can manage. I think just a sandwich. Is everything here in the fridge?” You opened up the door and immediately were overwhelmed by the amount of groceries and items packaged inside. The fridge itself was state-of-the-art. Everything in the kitchen was.

Carl laughed and stepped up behind you, “You can find everything you might need in this kitchen yes. But perhaps we’ll leave the cooking to me today, just until you get used to where everything is. What kind of sandwich would you like?”

“Oh. Maybe that’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Shaking his head, Carl reached passed you to pull out some vegetables, “Not at all. This is what I do. How about a French bread panini? I can slice up some turkey and Swiss, load it with vegetables? Or maybe you’d prefer grilled chicken and pesto? Egg salad? Or are you vegetarian?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I’m definitely not vegetarian. And the first one sounds fine. Turkey and Swiss panini. Any veggies you put on it will be good. I just don’t like mayo.”

It was wild to be having lunch made for yourself by a professional private chef. And Harry’s cassoulet looked divine but after googling it you learned it’s usually made with various kinds of meat and that the duck confit is what makes the dish. But since his version was supposedly vegan, you couldn’t imagine it tasting anything like it was probably supposed to.

You also learned that Carl wasn’t just a personal chef. He also did all the grocery shopping.

After lunch, your belongings arrived. The movers placed everything in your new bedroom and handed you the key to your apartment before they left.

“This is it?” Harry asked standing in the doorway as he looked around at the boxes and bags you’d had delivered.

“Yeah. I don’t have much I need to keep here. You’ve got the room fully furnished. Just my clothes and essentials.” You shrugged as you opened up the box near the bed.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you as you dug into the box and pulled out your potted Pothos plant. “What?” You looked at him as you placed the plant on the floor.

“Nothing. Um,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I think it’s a good stopping point today. We’ve got you set up on everything so you can unpack and relax. Normally our days will be longer but since it’s your first…” he put both arms down by his side and stopped fidgeting, “It’s good for today. And like I said earlier, you are free to watch TV in the main room downstairs or get anything from the kitchen you need at all. You don’t need to just stay in your room all night unless you choose to.”

You squinted at him, wondering if there was some kind of catch. He was rather pleasant, you had to admit. After you both got everything out of the way the day before things had been fine. Normal even. But you still had to keep your guard up around him. And all it took to remember who you were dealing with was what he’d done that night.

You decided against going downstairs to watch TV. Maybe you’d feel comfortable enough to do that later on but that night, it felt nice to take a long bath and listen to music and then curl up on your soft, silky bed with your laptop and Netflix.

Though you did get thirsty. And a bit hungry around 8. So you ventured down and hoped to not run into anyone.

Except of course, you ran into someone. When you entered the kitchen you saw Harry standing in front of the refrigerator looking in. Apparently, he had the same idea as you.

You cleared your throat and Harry turned to see you there, “Oh, hey.” He closed the fridge and faced you, “Need something?”

You nodded and stepped toward the pantry, “A little hungry and thirsty. Is it okay?”

“Of course it is. Help yourself to whatever. I was just about to make some pasta. Something simple. Would you like some?”

“Yeah. I can help you make it. What do we need?” You neared the fridge and opened it up, pulling out a glass pitcher of water.

Harry ran down the list of ingredients, which weren’t many, and you helped him slice garlic while he boiled the pasta and poured a can of San Marzano tomatoes into a small pot.

Everything came together quickly and you both sat at the island to eat the late-night meal together.

“Tomorrow we’ll book a trip to Vancouver. Someone has a few pieces I’d love to see in person.” Harry explained what to expect on the trip as you listened.

Then you got to talking about your parents and then college. Harry shared a little about himself but it wasn’t much. You didn’t expect that he would, but he did tell you about his mom and sister. You could tell how important they were to him just by the way he spoke. It made you feel warm toward him in a way knowing that he cared about people other than himself. Something you hadn’t been sure about as he seemed so cold.

When you were both done you tried to help him clean up, “You don’t have to do this, Y/n. I’ve got a housekeeper who will be here in the morning. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Are you sure? Are you headed to bed?” You asked as you placed the forks into the sink.

He nodded, “Yeah. Time to call it a night.”

“Do you always go to bed this early,” you grinned as you refilled your water to bring it with you to your room.

He raised his brows, “Yeah. I get up at 4:30 in the morning to start my day so 9:30 or 10 is about when I go to bed.”

You cringed to yourself. 4:30 in the morning? That sounded like hell.

You both went your separate ways as you bid Harry good night.

.           .           .

You had a busy morning. You booked a trip for the following week to Vancouver for yourself and Harry. Two nights at The Four Seasons (2 separate rooms, connected), first-class airline tickets, a reservation for the 2nd evening at a nice restaurant for four people, an on-call driver for the whole visit, and set-up details with someone’s assistant named Lana for the meeting.

Harry wanted everything to be perfect so you had to work at extracting as much information from Lana as possible. At first, Lana sent you an itinerary that was rather simple and would have most people feeling good about the meeting. But Harry took one look at it and knew he needed more information. So you spent the majority of your morning speaking with the young woman and filling in details that appeared to be missing.

“This is excellent, Y/n,” Harry looked up at you as he stood from his desk. The itinerary and all the bookings were taken care of. “I’m leaving to take care of something personal. You can have the rest of the day off. Thank you.”

You felt pleased. So far, working for Harry hadn’t been all that bad. He was picky and hard to please but you could handle him. You just hoped that the momentum you two had would continue into the weeks ahead.

.           .           .

You met Brandy out at your favorite club. You wore a cute black dress and black booties and your black leather jacket.

“Oh damn, girl! You look good!” Brandy called to you when she spotted you through the crowd.

“I can’t stay all night! I have to work in the morning, so I stop at 2 drinks!” You spoke loudly so Brandy could hear.

Brandy’s side eye told you that your friend would be trying to get you to enjoy yourself for longer. But you couldn’t. The last thing you wanted to do was to be on Harry’s bad side and be hungover the next morning.

But, Brandy was convincing. Too convincing at times.

Four martinis in and you were painfully aware that you wouldn’t be driving back. You’d need an Uber and that kind of sucked because Harry would know when your car wasn’t there. But… since you’d already need to Uber and you were already out, you had a fifth martini and danced with Brandy and forgot all about your promise to yourself.

The night grew blurry and you couldn’t stop talking about your boss.

“He’s so put together too,” you slurred as you and Brandy leaned into one another, too drunk to dance or drink anymore.

“I know. You keep saying that. And how big his cock was,” Brandy laughed and you pushed her, causing her to stumble back dramatically so you reached out to steady her but wound up falling with her to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, you’d gotten sloppy drunk.

“I need to go,” you pushed yourself up to stand as you reached for your cell phone. You could hardly see straight, and pulling up the Uber app was simply not going to work. Instead, you called the second to last person you’d texted, Harry. You really hadn’t put much thought into it.

He answered the line and you pushed your way toward the front of the club to go outside, dragging Brandy with you, “Harry!” You howled loudly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Club Yega. Can you pretty please come pick me up? I’m so drunk.” Your voice was scratchy and your words were watery.

Once you got outside you repeated your question, unable to hear what Harry had responded to you.

“Okay. Just wait for me outside. Is there anyone with you?” He sounded concerned.

“Brandy is here and the security guy standing by the door,” you said matter-of-factly before hiccupping.

Harry told you he’d be there soon and Brandy wobbled into your side as she used one eyeball to call an Uber for herself.

You were unable to recall how long it took for Harry to arrive, or when Brandy had gotten into her Uber and left but when you saw him, he was standing over you with his hand out, “Up you get,” he grasped your hand and helped you stand up. You’d been sitting on the sidewalk.

“Should be more responsible,” Harry chided you as he helped you to his running car, “No one’s watching over you. Where’s this friend you had with you?”

“She was here I promise but her Uber came to get her,” you stumbled into his car and plopped down into the seat with an umph!

Harry looked back at the front door security person and nodded to him as he rounded the car and got inside.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I was going to only have 2 drinks. Swear.”

“It happens. But you should have called me sooner. Don’t like that you were sitting out there alone like that. It’s late. And we have an early day tomorrow.”

You turned to look at him as he pulled into the street and reached a hand up to the curl that covered the top of his ear, “You’re so pretty. Which is weird because you’re such a fucking dick.”

Harry shook his head and laughed to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m serious. You’re too pretty for it to be real. Your voice even.” You croaked.

Harry glanced at you quickly, “Oh yeah?” His grin widened. He knew the alcohol was talking but he certainly didn’t mind hearing your thoughts about him while you were inebriated.

“Yeah,” you lowered your finger to his shoulder and then poked at his bicep before dropping your hand back into your lap, “Nice everything. Except you’re not actually nice are you?” You let out a garbled laugh and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Hey… Come on. You’re drunk. Just close your eyes and we’ll be home soon.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, “Bossy too. But it sucks because it was so good that night. God I still think about it… and then I remember how you kicked me out like I was filthy. That was mean. Hurt my feelings.”

Harry sighed and stayed quiet. He was not going to engage in this kind of conversation with you while you were drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember any of it anyway.

But you didn’t stop there, “I wish I could stop thinking about it, though. S’not fair.”

Harry kept his eyes on the road and listened.

“The way you sounded when you were coming. I keep hearing it,” you squeezed your thighs together and looked out the window with a soft sigh. “Never had it like that before. But fuck you.”

Harry swallowed and blinked his eyes. He was a little surprised by your drunk confession. He liked that you thought fondly of some aspects of that night. Clearly you had enjoyed the sex. But to hear you saying how your feelings were hurt and that you were still angry about it all?

He looked over at you and down to your thigh where your dress had ridden up quickly before looking back at the road. He still refused to engage in this. You were drunk. Very much so.

“And your hands, Harry…” you reached over to brush your fingers over the back of his hand that was gripped on the steering wheel, “Oh god…” you breathed your words, “Your fingers. How good you are with them,” you bit your lip and leaned your head back into the leather seat and closed your eyes. “But still fuck you.”

When you were silent for a few minutes Harry looked over at you and noticed you were asleep.

He was glad you’d stopped staying the things you were. Your words had him confused. You were going from hot to cold fast. But he knew you wouldn’t ever reveal such things to him if you hadn’t been so far gone.

Waking you up gently, he put his arms under yours to help you out of his car, “We’re home, Y/n. Let’s get you up to bed.”

You were able to use your legs, but things were spinning. You clung tightly to Harry as he slowly brought you upstairs to your room.

When your bottom hit your mattress you laid back and sighed, “I might throw up,” you said.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head as he helped you out of your shoes. He knelt down and unzipped the leather to pull each one off. He didn’t intend to let his eyes wander over your legs and your thighs, but your dress had gotten bunched up so he could practically see your panties. And then they were fully on view when you scooted yourself into your bed further.

Harry leaned over you and pulled your blankets up over your body, “I’ll be right back with water.”

He couldn’t believe how adorable he thought you were. Even though you were still angry at him over what he’d done he liked the sass a little. He was definitely attracted to you. There was no doubt in his mind about that. He tried not thinking about that night with you but after you’d brought it up he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in thoughts of the way you felt and how wet you got for him. Your body, your voice… You were good with your hands too, he smiled remembering your comment about how you liked his hands. But of course, the smile fell from his face when he remembered how the night ended. How shitty he’d been. But now things were too complicated and he wasn’t sure that any kind of apology would ever be enough.

When he got back to your room you were asleep. Out cold. He placed the water on your nightstand and brushed his fingers along your forehead. You were cute.

He plugged in your cell phone and smiled at your sleeping face.

“Good night, pretty girl,” he whispered as he turned off the lamp next to you before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself.

Part 3

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[therealcocoshady]

I also had an idea kind of similar to the arranged marriage plot maybe someone sets them up on a blind date… he keeps saying no but the person playing Cupid is very persistent and he ends up feeling obligated to go (idk, just a thought)

Oh, I actually had an thought about something similar to this, a while ago - please don’t mind me, I literally wrote this thing in less than 30 minutes and didn’t proofread. I just wrote it so that you’d get the idea.

After years of frustration with women and trust issues, Marshall has made peace with the fact that he’s going to end up alone. Even his friends have stopped trying to set him up on dates. Sure, they’d like to see him thrive in a relationship, and they can see how lonely he is, sometimes, but they also know he’s complicated. So they leave him alone on the topic. So he dedicates to his work and his role as a father.

And ironically enough, his girls are the only people that could get him to go out of his comfort zone. One of them is still in college, studying psychology. She has to do an assignment for one of her classes and she is searching for volunteers for an experiment on dating and relationships. The design is pretty simple : people sign up, fill some forms and answer questions. Then, an algorithm pairs them up for maximum compatibility and they have to go on a date, during which they will have to answer the famous 36 questions designed to make them fall in love. His daughter is a bit behind on work and she has to find one more volunteer. She doesn’t even believe in this whole thing, she just wants to pass the class. So she begs Marshall, who refuses at first. Because A) he doesn’t date and B) even if he did, he wouldn’t take part in an experiment, much less one involving his daughter in his romantic life. But she’s really desperate and she assures him that the whole thing is anonymous and clinical. « Please, Dad, it’ll take twenty minutes of your time. And who knows if they’ll even pair you with anyone for the date. I just need to pass the class and graduate. You’re the one who always insisted on me getting higher education ! ». Of course, he caves in. Because he did sacrifice a lot for his babies to go to college, and he’ll be damned if his daughter fails the class because of him. Plus, the people in charge of the experiment will probably see his answers and figure he’s a lost cause. Even science wouldn’t find a good match for him, right ?

Except that it does. Weeks later, he receives an email, informing him that he’s been selected for the second step of the experiment and that they’ve found him a match with 95% compatibility. At first, he figures he won’t go. With his luck, they paired him with another fifty-something man who’s just as lonely. No way this could be a woman. Not with the stoic and sarcastic answers he typed in the form. The email doesn’t even specify who they paired him with. They just ask if he’d be available for a date in two weeks time. Basically, it’s having coffee with the other person, answering the 36 questions unrecorded and then filling another form to describe the experience and say if yes or no they feel attracted to the other person and would consider actually dating them. He figures that, even though it’s anonymous, his daughter’s team wouldn’t have the data if he bails and he’ll be damned if his precious daughter doesn’t get her degree because of him. Of course he’ll bite the bullet and go on that stupid coffee date. Even if he’s paired with a 53 year-old name George.

But as it turns out, his date is not 53 year-old George. It’s you. You and your charming smile. You who agreed to take part in the whole thing because your little sister, his daughter’s teammate, begged you at the last minute. God, these college students need to learn how to do things in time and not to involve their family in their cringy psych classes experiment. You don’t even want to do this whole thing but when a charming man shows up, you can’t help but smile and introduce yourself, extending a polite handshake to greet him. He doesn’t seem too at ease in that little café, which you find odd because it’s actually quite lovely. Also, you swear you’ve seen him somewhere, but it’s Detroit and he’s a brown-haired, bearded, middle-aged man in jeans and a hoodie. Pretty generic. You’re not exactly surprised to have been paired up with someone older than you. You’ve always been told you’re an old soul, so of course « science » (or whatever software they used to compile data) would figure out that your perfect match is almost twenty years older. Anyway, you’re not really here for a date. You’re here for your sister to finally graduate. And you’re not one to refuse free Chai latte.

So the two of you exchange a few pleasantries, introduce yourselves and get to these 36 questions. You tell each other who you could have dinner with if you could choose anyone in the world, whether or not you have a secret hunch about how you will die… as it turns out, the thing is cleverly designed. The questions are increasingly personal and both of you end up sharing personal details, things you most definitely wouldn’t think of sharing with a stranger you were more or less randomly paired up with. By the time you reach the last question, you are looking into each other’s eyes, giving your undivided attention, leaning in. When you arrived, you were strangers but by the end of the date, you feel like you really know each other. More than some people you’ve known your whole life. And by the time it ends, you’ve had the time to notice how charming the wrinkles around eyes are, and you don’t find it too unsettling that he blinks a bit faster than most people you know. As for him, he hasn’t failed to notice that little birthmark near your eye, and the way your mouth twitches when you’re trying to think of the adequate word to answer one of the questions. You don’t know each other’s favorite color or the name of your first pet, but both know when the other last cried in front of someone else and by themselves and why. 36 questions and a cup of coffee later, and you’re not really strangers. You actually had a pleasant time. Too bad you reached the end of the questionnaire and it’s time to go. Too bad he doesn’t offer to take your number and call you. Too bad you’re too demure to ask for his. You wouldn’t have minded actually going out with him. Maybe even discuss that movie he mentioned in passing and thinks you’d like.

The two of you share a hug goodbye and agree that it was fun. You wish him well for his daughter’s wedding he told you he’s busy planning and he wishes you luck for that job interview you said you were nervous about. When you go home and it’s time to answer that final set of questions, saying how you feel about the experiment, you actually give the whole thing a solid 8/10. And when you’re asked if you’d actually date the person you met for coffee, you tick « yes » faster than you’ve ticked any box. You do the same when it asks you if you’d consent to the other person being given your contact info.

Weeks later, Marshall is ecstatic when his daughter tells him she got a good grade for that psych class and that she’ll be graduating with honors. He’s proud as can be. She thanks him profusely for helping her. « I know it’s a stupid thing. But hey, there are a few people who reported they had a good time. Who knows ? Maybe I helped someone find love. ». She has absolutely no idea that he is one of the people who asked for the other person’s contact info as soon as they were given the possibility. She doesn’t know he’s been on four more dates with you. People have been so used to him being single that it didn’t even cross his daughter’s mind. Not even when he mentioned he missed the last Lions’ game, which never happens. But she definitely gets a hunch when he attends her graduation ceremony and sees him smile to that beautiful lady who’s attending her graduation ceremony and came to greet him. « Oh, that’s my sister speaking with your dad ! », her friend says. « I convinced her to do the experiment and she told me she met someone charming. Can you believe it ?! ».

[letthemkook]

Glass Garden K.SJ

Pairing: Yandere Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Psychological Thriller

Warnings: Possessiveness, emotional manipulation, captivity themes, obsession, unhealthy relationships, Smut***

Intro: Everyone says Kim Seokjin is perfect. Perfect smile. Perfect manners. Perfect lies. But perfection is just another kind of prison—one with roses at the gate and your name etched on the key.

⸻

You met Kim Seokjin on the worst day of your life.

Your bike was stolen. You were drenched in rain. And your umbrella broke in half like it was laughing at you.

He was standing under the glow of a café sign, dressed too perfectly for someone alone. Warm drink in hand, scarf wrapped like he stepped out of a drama. And when he looked at you, you didn’t think handsome—you thought dangerous.

He invited you inside. Just for a moment. Just to dry off.

He knew your name.

You never told him.

⸻

Weeks later, strange things started happening.

Your shift schedule was rearranged without notice—but always conveniently giving you the same lunch break as a man in a gray coat. Jin. He said it was fate. You said it was creepy.

Your landlord told you someone anonymously paid your rent three months in advance. The envelope was sealed with pink wax.

Your best friend started avoiding you. Ghosting your calls. “I’m fine,” she texted. But you noticed her Instagram was wiped clean. Then her number stopped working entirely.

Jin said people come and go. “But I’ll always stay.”

⸻

You tried to leave the city once. Bought a train ticket to Busan. Never made it to the station.

A black car pulled up outside your apartment. A man in a suit handed you a phone. Jin’s voice was on the other end.

“Come home,” he said gently. “I get anxious when I don’t know where you are.”

You looked out the window. The rain had started again. And someone had left your favorite flowers on the doorstep.

⸻

His mansion is called the Glass Garden.

Every room has no locks. Except the front gate. That’s bolted shut.

Every meal is served with your favorite dishes. Except your phone is gone.

Every night, he lays beside you without touching. Except when he thinks you’re asleep, and he whispers things like, “You’re mine now. You’ll love me eventually.”

You used to scream.

Now you wait.

You wait for the day he slips up.

But you also wait for him to come back when he’s gone too long.

Because somewhere between fear and longing, something is breaking inside you.

And Jin knows it.

He watches you through the mirrored glass and smiles.

“You see?” he whispers, kissing the top of your head. “Even flowers learn to grow in cages.”

⸻

The glass garden has no clocks.

You don’t know how long it’s been—days, weeks, maybe months. The seasons change only in the artificial scent diffused through the air. Today it smells like spring. Jasmine and rain.

There are cameras in the corners, disguised as flowers. You pretended not to notice at first. You’d smile while dressing, cry in the shower, fold your clothes neatly like a good girl. You wanted him to think you were adjusting.

You wanted him to relax.

But Jin doesn’t relax.

He watches.

“Why don’t you hate me more?” he asked once, brushing your hair back as you laid in his lap. “You should scream more. Cry more. Beg.”

You stayed quiet. That seemed to upset him more.

“I want your real self,” he said that night, hovering above you, eyes wide and starved. “I don’t want your fear. I want your honesty. Love me or break me. Just don’t lie.”

You spat in his face.

He kissed you anyway.

⸻

He gives you gifts now. A music box. A dress. A journal with half the pages already written—entries in your handwriting that you never remember writing. They say things like:

“Jin held me so gently today. I felt safe.”

“Maybe this is what love looks like.”

“I don’t miss anyone anymore.”

You asked him if he forged them.

He only smiled.

“Darling,” he murmured, “if you think I’d fake your feelings for me… then maybe you don’t understand how deep they already go.”

⸻

One night, he lets you into the east wing.

It’s darker there. No flowers. Only framed pictures of you.

Some are real—candid shots from your old apartment, grocery store, café. Others… you don’t remember being taken. In some, you’re smiling. Naked. Bent over his desk. Crying. Laughing.

“I never touched you before you came here,” he says calmly, standing behind you. “Even when I could have. Even when I wanted to. I waited.”

You swallow.

“But now I don’t have to wait anymore, do I?”

You turn.

His pupils are blown wide. His hands shake as they reach for you.

Not to hurt.

To worship.

He drops to his knees.

“Please,” he whispers, breath hitching like a prayer. “Please let me love you properly.”

⸻

You should scream.

But instead… you nod.

Just once.

The last part of yourself—what little remained—wilts in his hands like something already dying.

And he kisses it.

He kisses you.

“You’re mine now,” he says, pressing his lips to your wrist. “Say it back.”

You hesitate.

Then whisper, “I’m yours.”

He exhales like you’ve absolved him.

The lights dim.

The music box plays.

And somewhere outside the glass walls, the world forgets you ever existed.

⸻

You wake up wrapped in silk.

The bed is made of velvet and fog. His arm is around your waist, loose but firm—like even in sleep, his body remembers what belongs to him.

The cameras are off today.

You know because the little light in the corner doesn’t blink. And Jin hasn’t left your side. Not since last night.

Not since you told him you were his.

⸻

You thought submitting would give you time.

Make him drop his guard.

Let you breathe without being watched.

But it’s only gotten worse.

He doesn’t leave you alone anymore.

He bathes you. Brushes your teeth. Picks your clothes. Holds your hand during every meal and kisses your cheek after every swallow like praise.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” he whispers.

You ask to go outside.

He laughs softly. “Love, you are outside. This garden was made for you. Do you know how long it took me to build it?”

He touches the glass. The birds are fake. The breeze is fake. The flowers? Real. Grown in soil made of crushed bones and promises.

You ask, “What if I still want to leave?”

He smiles. “Then I’ll just have to build you a bigger cage.”

⸻

You try to run anyway.

You wait until he’s asleep. Count your steps like prayers. Steal the garden shears hidden behind the orchids. Creep to the gate with bare feet and a shaking hand.

The lock clicks.

You taste real air for the first time in months.

But before you can take your second breath, he’s there.

Not running. Just walking. Calm. Like he knew this would happen.

You turn.

“Go ahead,” he says, spreading his arms. “Try.”

Your fingers tremble around the shears.

He doesn’t flinch.

You swing.

You miss.

He catches your wrist mid-air.

“Shhh,” he soothes, dragging you back, slowly, like a lullaby. “That’s not how flowers behave, darling. You don’t bloom by cutting your roots.”

⸻

That night, he ties your wrists in silk.

Not tight. Not painful. Just… present.

A reminder.

“I still love you,” he says, watching you from the edge of the bed. “Even if you tried to kill me. Even if you wanted to run. I still want to take care of you.”

You glare. “Why?”

He leans in, brushing your lips with his. “Because even when you hate me, I see it. That part of you that’s afraid to leave. That tiny part that already loves me back.”

⸻

You cry when he kisses you again.

But you don’t pull away.

And in the glass garden, that’s as good as a vow.

——-

The silk around your wrists has turned into something else.

Not a restraint.

Not even a punishment.

A ritual.

Each night, he ties you with care—thumb brushing the inside of your palm like he’s memorizing you anew. He whispers sweet things into your hair. Tells you how beautiful you look when you stop fighting him.

“You don’t even know how soft your eyes get when you give in,” he says one night, cupping your face as he leans in. “Like petals soaking in rain.”

You don’t answer.

Because some part of you wants to believe him.

⸻

That night, you sit on his lap.

He doesn’t make you. He doesn’t even ask.

You just crawl into his space and lower yourself onto him like it’s gravity’s fault. Like it’s inevitable.

He stares up at you with something so raw, so reverent, it makes you feel like the villain.

“Look at you,” he whispers. “You don’t even flinch anymore.”

You ride him slowly, mechanically—your hands still tied, your wrists resting on his chest like a promise you never meant to keep.

He doesn’t thrust. Doesn’t move. Just takes it, breath hitching, gaze glued to where you meet him.

“You’re so good to me,” he chokes out, voice breaking with a laugh. “My perfect girl. My obedient little bloom.”

Your lips part, but you don’t speak.

Because if you open your mouth, you might scream.

Or worse—

You might beg for more.

⸻

Later, he unties your wrists and kisses the red marks like a priest blessing something holy.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” he murmurs. “The part of you that wants to stay.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong.

But your body’s still trembling from the high he gave you. Your thighs ache from how tightly you held onto him.

And he knows.

He knows.

So he just smiles and tucks you under the blanket, stroking your hair as you cry silently against his chest.

⸻

“You’ll love me eventually,” he says. “But I’m in no rush.”

He kisses your temple.

“I’ve already made forever.”

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fluffbruary FIC] You'll Know You're Defenseless

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 1067 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2025, Turbo Lover AU, Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, floriography, pining, willful failure to communicate

Notes: Another fluff entry for Turbo Lover, though it's a little bittersweet. Title of course from the Judas Priest song that I named the series after.

Fluffbruary 2025 prompts: Day 13: jealous | rose | narrow Day 16: aquamarine | impress | interlude Day 17 : yearn | salty | reality

Summary: Mechanic Hob might. Possibly. Be pining. Just a little bit.

On AO3

There's a florist he passes on his way home from the garage.

Hob slows his stride as he draws even, today.

He is no stranger to looking over the window displays as he walks by, seeing what's new, snapping pics to look up later and cross-reference to flower language websites. Floriography is fascinating, okay, and also. He is not immune to daydreaming about crafting a custom bouquet to give Dream. Calla lilies for his beauty. Ranunculus; 'I'm dazzled by your charms'. Pink carnations; 'I'll never forget you'. Red camellias to say 'You're a flame in my heart'. Some fern fronds for sincerity and fascination. Blue orchids for enchantment, or maybe lavender roses—those would probably coordinate with the reds of the bouquet better. Maybe, if he's really daring, some sunny yellow jonquils for the old-fashioned sentiment 'I desire a return of affections'.

Because yeah. He really does, god help him.

Not that he can just say so.

He could send a bouquet anonymously, of course, from a secret admirer. But maybe that wouldn't mean anything to Dream, who has plenty of money and probably dozens of prospects for romance. Some anonymous bouquet would not impress him, would probably just wind up on a shelf somewhere, unremarked until it wilts, thrown out without another thought—meaningless to Dream.

Even as he thinks it, though, Hob is remembering the way Dream warms toward the smallest signs of affection, the way he blooms when Hob lavishes him with endearments, and he knows it's more likely Dream would obsess over such a bouquet. He would study it, disbelieving of its sincerity, researching the blooms to look for hidden meaning, finding only the message that Hob had meant to send and fixating on the idea that a stranger might feel such things about him but lack the courage to approach him directly.

So, Hob could maybe send a small bouquet. If he saved up a few pounds.

But he doesn't want to send anything anonymously, is the problem. One, there's also the slim chance it might actually set off alarm bells, make Dream worry about stalkers and strangers watching him. Hob doesn't want to accidentally trigger that kind of anxiety. But two, what he really wants…well. He wants to lavish gifts on Dream the way he thinks Dream deserves, wants to send him the biggest bouquet of compliments and swooning sentiment and declarations of intent; he wants to send roses, dozens upon dozens of ruby-red blooms proclaiming his love so loudly that Dream cannot help but see it, know it, feel it.

He definitely doesn't have that kind of money though. He's priced the sort of arrangements he dreams about and they're significantly beyond his modest budget.

And for all that he can see Dream craves affection, he's still…

See.

Dream is so, so very far out of his league. Romantically speaking. Dream's never said or done anything that indicates Hob could be anything more than this casual hookup and hangout arrangement that they've got going on. He gives Hob a taste of finer things and Hob gives him the best sex he could ever want, and they're both happy. It's perfect. It's amicable. It's tidy and delicious and uncomplicated except that Hob and his stupid helpless heart have always got to go falling farther than they ever should, getting attached and invested and—

Fucking—

Love. He's in love with Dream, he can admit it to himself. And it doesn't matter that it'll never be the storybook romance he'd like it to be. It truly doesn't. He can be happy with what he's got, happy being Dream's boy-toy, his favorite bit of rough, his arm- and eye-candy. That's their reality. He can be happy meeting whatever needs Dream will let him; it's better than not having Dream in his life at all. He can yearn all he likes but he can't expect someone as…as everything as Dream would ever truly consider a long-term life with Hob as his partner.

But oh, the florist's shop is calling him today. And maybe…maybe, if he's careful, he can give Dream a tiny, fleeting gift without giving himself away.

~

Hob is waiting at the curb when Dream pulls up outside his flat a couple hours later, the Porsche jerking to a stop in a way that makes Hob wince. He hides his grimace in a welcoming smile; Dream tries his best to follow Hob's advice about operating the manual transmission but ultimately he'd rather just let Hob drive when they're together.

Dream climbs gracefully out of the idling car and Hob stops him as he crosses in front of it, holding up the single red rose he'd picked out at the florist's with its little plastic tube of water and nutrients snug on the cut end.

"For you," he says, lightly, casually, presenting it with a showman's flourish.

"For me?" Dream sounds delighted, takes it delicately, but there is a little crease in his forehead that Hob can't quite interpret.

"Customer Appreciation Day at the shop," he says quickly, easily. "Handed 'em out to everyone who came in. But this little guy was left all alone when we closed up so I thought to myself, y'know, I'll just. Take it for Dream." He grins, his most charming, rakish grin. "So yes, for you. A small token of affection from your favorite bit of rough." He winks.

A little white lie and a little red rose. He's fucked if Dream ever comes to the shop and talks to Matthew and mentions this customer appreciation day Hob's just made up.

Odds are extremely low that would ever happen. But still.

Dream smiles, his mouth tilting up and his eyelashes sweeping down in that way that makes Hob's stomach swoop. "I thank you for thinking of me, Hob Gadling. It is indeed lovely." He touches Hob's arm briefly and continues on to the passenger side of the Porsche.

Hob follows suit, rounding the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel and adjusting the seat, flicking on the signal to pull back out into traffic. There's excitement fizzing in his blood at the message he's just sent, satisfaction at successfully flying it under Dream's radar.

He glances over at Dream as he drives, sees the soft smile on his lips as he buries his nose in the velvety red petals, and Hob's heart thumps happily in his chest.

= Started: 2/15/25 Drafted: 2/16/25 Posted: 2/17/25

Previously in the series, in case AO3 is down: Customer Service With Every Nerve Alive Loyalty Rewards Program Shift to Overdrive Love Machines in Harmony Without Warning Something's Dawning (Listen)

[muddyorbsblr]

the warmest bed i've ever known

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: dating era; a few days after 'when the feeling sinks in'

Summary: Tom has convinced you to go back to London with him for a few weeks, and a photo of you two out and about together has opinions firing left and right.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings (spoilers ahead): language; big hater behavior towards Reader; attempted breakup; angst; brief mentions of past bullying [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Tomathy fully in his comforting precious bf era

Numb.

That was the only word that came to mind right now to describe what you felt, staring at your screen with all the hateful vile words that people who didn't even know you were flinging your way. And all because of the man you were dating. And how much you looked like a downgrade compared to his ex.

Then again it really shouldn't have surprised you, considering the turn your life had taken in the last few months. Hell, the last few days. There was really no other way for these nameless faceless spineless people to react when the man you'd started dating was none other than Tom Hiddleston.

And the figuratively ridiculously large shoes you had to fill considering the rising power of said ex…was Taylor Swift's.

You shouldn't have gone online. Checked Twitter. Checked anything, really. They rarely if ever had anything good to say, it was a special kind of stupid and naive for you to think that someway somehow you and your relationship were going to be the exception to the vitriolic rule.

Now here you were, screechy voices filling your mind, spitting out the words that your eyes scanned when you opened the cesspool of a sight.

Nothing special

Unremarkable

Fucking stab my eyes out with a rusty fork ugly

To be completely fair, you'd seen worse when you were still in school, every day inundated with the mocking words that sociopaths with hormones on overdrive wielded recklessly like a goddamn balisong without care that the person on the receiving end was actually a person. And if that was the shitshow you experienced from people brave enough to sign those sentiments with their name and say it to your face with chests fully puffed out, then the bravery of these people when they were all snuggled up under the protective cover of anonymity really shouldn't have shocked you.

Finding out who they were behind the screen and dealing out retribution on your own terms would have been a simple enough task. After all, you'd done it before, and even with the current advancements in technology and the tighter security protocols centered around protecting user data, you still managed to keep a few tricks in your bag that you could whip out if the need ever arose.

There was just one thing that stopped you from doing just that. A part of you agreed with the vicious comments. It was easy enough to ignore when people in school were just making hateful pages about how you sucked and how no one would ever genuinely like you. Or when they made pages pretending to be you so that they could dole out their paltry attempts at trying to ruin what little reputation you had at the time.

When you dealt with them on that comparatively smaller scale, it became easy to numb yourself to their words, drown them out until they were just white noise in the background, keeping you focused on the path you laid out for yourself rather than distracting you. It gave you a drive to work harder and better so that you could get as far away from them as possible.

On this scale, the background noise was so strong, so loud and overwhelming that every step you took to fight it seemed to take every ounce of your strength. It felt like there was no way out. You couldn't just hunker down and work hard so that you could get away from it all this time. And you couldn't exactly ignore them, either.

How could you? When they were voicing with pinpoint accuracy every insecurity that plagued you ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend a few days ago. Ever since your first night with him months ago.

So is this some sort of Make-A-Wish thing? That's it, right? She's on her last few months and she wanted to live them in delusion?

Fifty bucks says Tom's active on Raya right now. Quick someone send me an invite link I wanna shoot my shot. Tommy don't worry baby I'll save you from whatever the fuck mistake you got yourself into.

How the fuck do you go from Taylor Swift to that?

The most prevalent remarks in the last few hours had to do with a sighting of you sitting on a park bench, working on creating a wardrobe piece for an upcoming show that, if all went well, would start filming in a few years. The book author and the prospective showrunner got in contact with you after a glowing recommendation from Taika, and they talked about struggling to find the perfect scarf that would serve as one of the series' focal points.

After a few discussions and so many skeins of yarn that there was now an oversized tote bag in your hotel room overflowing with various shades of dark teal and peacock blue, you started crocheting a sample size of the pattern to show the author later on in the afternoon before you went to meet Tom for dinner. And that was how you were spotted this morning, sitting quietly on the bench, eyes on your project while your boyfriend was taking Bobby for a walk.

And for some reason the internet was up in arms over that,

Are you really fucking telling me this boring ass bitch that's giving old lady crocheting a goddamn scarf is fucking riding the God of Mischief every day? Nuh uh nope I don't believe that. Our Tommy deserves someone fun, and actually fucking pays attention to him and not a ball of yarn. Our baby deserves so much better than this.

You stared at the desk in front of you, your sample scarf to the left, and your laptop at the center, the screen now black from inactivity. You couldn't bother to move to check the time; your reminder would ring when your call would start. All you could bring yourself to do was remain exactly as you were, knees drawn to your chest with your arms around your legs, shaking and doing your damnedest not to break out into sobs over the knowledge of what you were about to do as soon as the door opened.

It was a good run, you told yourself. More than I deserved.

The sound of the front door opening jolted you back to reality, the voices finally dying down somewhat. Unfortunately, hearing Tom's voice started the voices right back up again.

"Y/N, darling, have you finished with your call? I was hoping we could go out tonight for dinner and--" His words stopped abruptly once he got to his study, seeing you in the position you'd been in for the last few hours, and immediately rushed to your side, crouching in front of you and taking your hands in his. "What's wrong, goddess?"

"I uhh…I have to go back to Los Angeles. I'm gonna see if I can make the next flight back." You didn't dare meet his eyes, still trying to hold back any tears.

He let out a breath, sounding almost relieved before he pressed a kiss to your hands. "That shouldn't be much of a problem, I can pack a bag and we can be on the next flight out--"

"No," you cut him off, wincing at your tone. "I'm going alone. There's no need for you to go with me, I'm sure you have some other things to do here. Better things."

There was a slight tremor in his hand as he cupped your face, gently turning your head to look at him. He took a shuddering breath seeing the tears swimming in your eyes. "What's happening right now, sweetheart? Please. I don't understand what could have brought this on, we had a lovely morning--"

"I thought I could do this," you choked out, finding it difficult to form coherent words without starting to blubber. "I thought I could drown the voices out, not let them get to me but…they're too loud. They're ruthless and vile and they have megaphones and they're right." You shook your head to turn away from him, burying your face between your knees, the all too familiar feeling of shame flooding your system, shrouding over you like an overly weighted blanket. "I'm not strong enough to do this with you. And you deserve someone better than me."

You took your laptop off of Standby, your screen illuminating and showing him the harsh words that had been haunting you since you stupidly decided to check the internet just minutes after he left the house. He began to visibly tense as his eyes scanned the pages seeing all the hateful things literal strangers had to say about your relationship.

"Look we gave it a shot," you tried to tell him, making a motion to get out of the chair which made him put his hands on the armrests, effectively keeping you in place. "But I think it's time to call it. I'm not good for you, and you deserve someone--"

"No." His tone was low and resolute, hands staying firmly on the chair, refusing to let you go anywhere. From a certain perspective, it was a smart enough move, considering that if he let you go right now, you'd probably sprint out the door in the name of doing what you thought would be best for him. Even if it meant ripping your own heart out in the process. "This can't be over already, we've only just begun. The time I've had with you has been extraordinary and I know that if we keep going, it'll get even better. You've made me so happy and--"

"You'll find someone that makes you happier," you dumbly shot back, the sentiment hitting you so hard that the tears finally began to fall. Even the thought of him potentially moving on so quickly after this already had you ready to sob. "Someone stronger. Someone that can handle all of this or hell someone they'll actually like--"

"Those people don't care for my happiness," he said in a rush, tears filling his eyes as well. "No matter what I do, there's always going to be someone hateful that has something to say, and they'll always think they're right. It's so clear that they don't give a damn about what actually makes me happy because if they did, they wouldn't be saying these disgusting lies about you, trying to get into your head."

There was a desperation in his tone that tore at your heart; no part of you wanted to do this. But seeing every single insecurity that you'd had ever since you said yes to being his girlfriend, yes to going to London with him for a few weeks, and generally just yes to spending the next few however months of your life with him, all laid out in print echoed by so many others? You knew he deserved better than this, better than someone that would ultimately have to be hidden away so that these people would stop coming for his throat for his 'poor choices'.

And when you knew that what would be best for the man you ached to give your heart to was to actually tuck your heart away and run, how selfish would it be for you to do the opposite?

The feel of his hands framing your face brought you back to your thoughts, the frantic pleading look on his face robbing you of your breath. "Do you want to leave, Y/N?" You wanted to scream No of course I don't, I want to stay with you. But you found yourself unable to form words. All you could do was shake your head as more tears fell from your eyes.

He pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his arms the second you crossed your hands behind his neck and lifting you out of your seat. He didn't break the kiss until he'd carried you to his bedroom, setting you down on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before sinking to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his.

"Then don't leave. Stay with me. We'll stay in and stay away from prying eyes so nobody gets to say anything about you, we'll--"

"You shouldn't have to make adjustments in your life for the sake of making me comfortable," you argued. "You should be with someone that can face all of this, not cower in a corner licking her wounds needing to be protected if she so much as gets seen stepping out of your house like some tiny helpless baby animal. You deserve to be with someone you can share everything with, without the worry of people shooting you down just because I'm not pretty enough or tall enough for them. You can have anything and everything you want with a snap of your fingers, I'm sure it won't be that hard to find someone that--"

Tom stopped you from letting out another word, holding you by the back of your  head and pulling you to him for a desperate kiss. "I don't want anyone else, I want you. I don't give a fuck what anyone else wants to think about how I choose to spend my life and who I choose to share it with, because I know better. You're enough, you're more than enough. And if a few precautions and adjustments have to be made to make sure they can't get to you, then I'm more than happy to do all that and more.

"Our first night together I told you I just want you. As you are. That I want to make you happy." He rose from his knees, pressing a kiss to your cheek and working his way to your ear. "That I want to satisfy you. Do you remember?" You could only nod, trying and failing not to melt against him as he kissed below your ear. "I'm going to add that list of wants now. I want to make sure you feel safe, with every means I have at my disposal."

He guided you down until your back was flat on the mattress, kissing down your neck as he did so, his lips trailing a path down to just over your heart. You found it near impossible to breathe, finding yourself overwhelmed with how gentle and tender he was handling you.

"I want to love you," he said, meeting your eyes with a look that you could only describe as surrender. "I know you're not ready to hear it yet, but this can't wait anymore. You need to hear it. You need to know that the only way for me to actually have everything that I want is if I get to share everything I have with you. I need you to know that your leaving would rip my heart out." He made his way back up, stopping when your faces were mere inches apart. "I need you to know who you'd be leaving." He brushed his lips across yours in a featherlight kiss. "You would be leaving a man so completely, so desperately in love with you."

You tried to speak, but all you could manage was inaudibly mouthing his name, the sentiment you tried to stomp down just a little over a week ago fighting its way back up to the surface. Practically shouting from the back of your throat.

"I love you," he breathed out. "Please, sweetheart. Don't do this. Don't leave. Whatever you want, whatever you need so that we can make this work, we'll find our way through this together just please…I'm begging you don't tell me that what you want is to rid yourself of me--"

"That's the last thing I want," you managed to choke out, your eyes stinging with even more tears. You swallowed the lump in your throat, mustering every ounce of strength you had left to finally say the sentiment you prematurely blurted out when he first popped up at your house. "I love you, too."

You woke up the next morning the same way you'd been ever since you and Tom first got together, his arm wrapped around you, the butterflies fluttering violently in your stomach from how he held your body against his without a stitch of clothing between you two, along with the tender kisses he peppered along your shoulder. It was a routine you'd not only found yourself getting comfortable with, but you were looking forward to it whenever you felt yourself rousing from sleep.

And that part scared the living daylights out of you.

Relationships? Routines? Your mind wandering to that place that you said you never dared think about in the context of being in any kind of relationship again, because the last time you did, the rug got pulled out from under you and threw your life and the future you envisioned into a blender?

You swore to yourself that day all those years ago that you were never going to let yourself get this comfortable. That you would always have your safety measures in place so that you never had to worry about having to scramble your way back up to your feet without any sense of direction.

And you did. You had your measures. You had your walls up. You put your heart under lock and key and said you'd never give it to someone again. Yet here you were, basically opening the chest and telling Tom that it was right there for the taking.

A chest you couldn't close again even if you tried. Even if you wanted to.

The feel of his lips pressing a kiss between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a tiny whimper, making him smile and hum against your skin. "Good morning, goddess."

You were growing concerningly comfortable with that, too.

He moved you until you were lying with your back flat on the mattress, brushing his nose across yours as he gave you a contented smile. "I love you."

You couldn't help the smile that stretched across your own face hearing the words. "Hmm…careful, you keep talking like that I might get used to it."

He laid his lips on yours, giving you a tender kiss as he gently ran his hand down the side of your body before stopping at your hip, his thumb stroking your skin. "I want you to get used to it, because I'll be saying it a lot from now on." His lips traced a line down to the base of your throat. "I love you," he murmured against your skin repeatedly as he kissed along your collarbone.

"I love you, too," you whimpered as he kissed his way down to your stomach, his shaky exhale warming your skin even more. You placed your hand on his shoulder, leading him to refocus his attention to kissing his way up your arm. "I really stepped on the ledge yesterday…" you trailed off, struggling to take a deep breath as you tried to find the words, ultimately settling on the simplest ones. You weren't likely to find better words anyways. "Thank you for talking me off of it."

He took his time kissing his way back up to your lips, never breaking eye contact. "Always, my love." The new endearment, paired with the way he tenderly kissed your lips, had your head spinning. "I'm going out to get us some breakfast. I'll be back in an hour. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Those words had you stirring, making a motion to sit up on the bed. "What? No, you don't need to do that, you'll get papped. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed, I'll do it."

"If you go out, they'll photograph you, too," he argued. "Pictures of us are still fresh on their minds, which means these vultures are still very much on the lookout for you out and about, waiting to take pictures in hopes of selling them to the sleaziest gossip sites. Give it a week, maybe two, and they'll refocus their attention on someone else. Them and the internet."

You slumped back into the bed with a soft thud, surrendering to the fact that unfortunately, the logic made sense. You needed a good few days to let your face and those photos fade into relative irrelevancy. "You probably need your team to spin some story on why we were seen together, too," you sighed, the discomfort of having to let the wheels turn in your head before you've even had a bite of food or a sip of coffee starting to make you skittish. "I mean, the saying goes that we can't put the genie back in the bottle, but what if it isn't fully out yet? We still have a chance to…I don't know, mitigate the situation?"

Tom rested his forehead against yours, letting out a deep sigh as he laid back down on the bed as well, pulling you into his arms so that your head rested on his chest. "One day it won't be this toxic."

His words had you giggling, looking up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. "It's adorable that you think that, but no. But one day maybe the voices of those who would genuinely just be happy for you would be louder than these snakes in the pit with their megaphones. And maybe one day I'll be strong enough to not give a fuck about any of it."

He tightened his hold on you, arms snaking around your body in an embrace that had you falling even more into that dangerous place of way too damn comfortable. "Until then I'm going to do what I can to keep you safe. It'll only be a few weeks at most. Maybe less if we're lucky and someone causes a scandal." He pressed numerous soft kisses to the tip of your nose, breaking out into a smile when his attentions caused you to let out a soft giggle. "For now, I get to keep you in the house. All to myself." His smile turned into a mischievous grin as he rolled you on to your back, rasping the next words, "Like my own beautiful brilliant little captive."

"A very willing captive," you shot back, once again going breathless when he started kissing you all over your neck and chest. "Be careful out there? Don't let them get a reaction out of you, no matter what they ask. Or what they say about me."

"I will," he mumbled, humming against your skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses along the side of your body, nipping at your waist before pulling away. He made his way to his closet, shooting a playful knowing glance at you when he saw how you propped yourself up on your elbows to enjoy the view. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he chuckled, throwing on his usual running gear of a black t-shirt with the Legendary logo and black shorts that were definitely a size too small with how the garment hugged and accentuated his hips and upper thighs. Not to mention how those shorts made it all too obvious that your boyfriend happily and proudly chooses neither when it came to the age-old debate of boxers or briefs.

He walked back toward the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning over you to capture your lips in a heated kiss, as if it had been weeks since he'd done it last rather than mere minutes. His hand freely roamed your side, lightly grasping at your hips while he slowly laid you back down flat on the bed. Once he had, he broke the kiss to press his lips to the tip of your nose, then to your forehead.

"I'll wake you when I'm back home. Promise me you won't check on those pages again. None of them deserve our time, or our emotions. I love you, goddess."

"I promise. I love you, too."

A/N: Welcome to the second part of the 'said it first' arc! This would probably be the angstiest moment in their entire relationship and precious bf meow meow really answered her "I'm leaving" with "No ur not I love u 🥺" and we love him for it your honor

Three more parts to this arc and hopefully I can pull myself out of playing my lil games long enough to actually get to writing any of the pieces in my rotation 😅🫡

Here's a gif for everyone who reads 'til the end of the post…this be what the blorbos were like in that last scene:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Reunion

Pairings: Daryl Dixon & teen!reader, Tyreese Williams & teen!reader, Carol Peletier & teen!reader, Judith Grimes & teen!reader (all platonic obviously)

Requested by Anonymous: when the prison fell you and Daryl got separated, this is how you meet up, based on this request

Warnings: mention of blood, fighting, mention killing walkers/zombies, killing people, Daryl hug (yes that’s a warning), knives, guns, mention of killing kids, Terminus, hopefully if you read this you’ve seen the episode and knows what it includes, but ya know typical twd stuff.

A/N did I accidentally write this way longer than I intended yes, yes, I did, now don’t get me wrong the moment where Tyreese defends Judith is iconic but for the sake of this fic I changed it up, kinda wanna make another part

For you who wants to know the episode is season 5 episode 1

Anyway I hope you enjoy this <3

Judith giggled happily in your arms as you walked on the edge of the railway. You could’ve once imagined all kinds of trains going up and down the tracks as they blew past the trees, but now you couldn’t actually remember much about trains, you had the idea of them but not much details (and if a train were to come right now that would’ve been a miracle).

Tyreese walked a few steps behind you, with Carol in the front, as she led your group of four forward. She came to a stop when a sign that states “TERMINUS” showed up once more. It was your headed path, the sanctuary called Terminus. You personally didn’t trust it, not after the Governor, but you had to find Daryl and the rest of the group. You knew that if any of them were still alive they would’ve gone to Terminus after finding the railway. Which all of them had probably done. Along with finding Daryl you also had to get Tyreese and Judith to safety. Tyreese wasn’t fit to live on the road at the moment, he refused to kill anything that came your way leaving you and Carol to kill stray walkers, or animals for food. Judith, well, she was a baby and sometimes could be screaming all day, she was mostly quiet but the times she did cry was the times walkers got attracted. A baby was no way near fit to be on the road but here you were all of you somehow still alive (except for Lizzie and Mika Samuels, but there was no loss for you over Lizzie that’s for sure).

“We’re close” Carol stated as she saw the sign. “I’m gonna get you all there, make sure you’re safe, but I’m not gonna stay” She saw your face morph into disappointment as you nodded your head, a sad smile on your face. You’d missed her while she was gone and now she would be leaving again, and you didn’t like it, not one bit and you knew Daryl would be sad over it too which didn’t help the matter.

As you heard the rustle of leaves behind you in the forest, you all turned around to see two walkers stalk forward in your direction. Tyreese motioned with his hands to take Judith from you. Judith was carefully switched over to Tyreese and both you and Carol went forward to the walkers. Both of you killed them quickly only to notice the herd that was about to come out of the forest. Carol whispered to Tyreese that more were coming, and so all of you went into the opposite side of the railway. You hid in the forest until the walkers got distracted by shots firing not too far away from all of you.

Tyreese looked worriedly at you as he started to talk. “That gunfire it could’ve been from Terminus”

“Someone was attacking them, or they were attacking someone” Carol responded

“Do we want to find out?”

This time you involved yourself in the conversation, as you believed that you did indeed need to find out. “Yeah, we need to find out, If the others are there they might need help”

With that, and Carol's instruction of walking another track that would get you there as well you all started to walk once more, this time in need to find out the truth.

Your next stop had been outside a small worn out cabin, but it wasn’t the cabin that got your attention. What got your solely attention as you hid in the forest with your companions was the man that talked in a walkie-talkie. He was putting up a bunch of fireworks, no doubt to lead the herd of walkers away from Terminus. You could faintly hear him mention a woman with a sword, and you stopped Carol from going forward. As you continued to listen you heard him mention a kid with a hat and that was all you needed to go on. You didn’t think there were that many women with a sword and kid with a hat together nearby at the same time, so it didn’t take much to know that they were talking about Michonne and Carl. Nor did it take long to realize they had done something to your group, thereby also Daryl. Especially when he mentioned bleeding the kid out.

Carol slowly started to creep up behind the man and you followed not far behind. Tyreese more hesitant but still following. She put her gun toward his head, the young man froze and put his hands up still holding the two way radio. “Keep your finger off the button and drop it”

“Listen, ya’ll don’t have to do this. Whatever you want, we got a place where everyone’s welcome”

“Shut up man” it was what all three of you were thinking but Tyreese was the one to say it.

“Okay”

“We’re friends of the chick with the sword and the kid in the hat” Carol pressed the gun against his head forward, making the man lean forward as the gun touched his head.

It didn’t take long for you and Carol to tie him up and drag him (not so carefully) into the cabin leaning him against one of the walls. Throughout the whole ordeal the man continued to tell the three of you that you didn’t have to do this, that you could all come up with a deal, but he had no luck there.

As Carol made herself ready to scout Terminus out to see what was happening Tyreese continued to hold Judith in a protective embrace. You however had been asking the man questions, finding out that ever since the first questions he had been lying. He told you he only had Carl and Michonne, that they had both attacked them out of nowhere, that they were just protecting themselves. But none of you believed him. Not with the things you heard him talk about before you confronted him.

You would of followed Carol to Terminus had it not been for your will to protect Judith and Tyreese. As much as you loved Tyreese he wasn’t in his right mind. So you stayed to help if anything bad were to happen, to walkers coming your way or your prisoner getting free somehow, it didn’t matter you were there to protect your family. You only hoped Carol wouldn’t need any help.

Talking about your prisoner he was even more shatty when Carol left. Apparently a teenager, a baby and a man who he could clearly see wasn’t going to kill him was no threat to him. It was his undoing in the end. He underestimated you both and it showed in the way he talked to you and Tyreese as you sat by Judith, who’d you made a makeshift bed to.

“She got a name?… Hey, she got a name?”

“No” you answered at the same time Tyreese answered “Judith” you glared at Tyreese as he told the stranger her name, you didn’t want to give him any information, you never knew if it would backfire.

“She your daughter or something?”

“She’s a friend”

“Huh, I don’t have any friends… I mean I know people. They’re just assholes I stay alive with. The other one your friend, the woman” the younger man nodded towards the door that was now closed. Tyreese slowly looked away at the comment being conflicted about his answer. So instead you answered.

“Yes”

The man nodded and his voice that had now started to annoy you filled the room once more. “I used to have them… used to watch football on Sundays. Went to church” he let out a small laugh as if the thought of it was unbelievable. “I know, I did, but I can’t picture it anymore… it’s funny how you don’t even notice the time go by, horrible shit just stacks up day after day, you get used to it”

Tyreese turned his attention towards the man and spoke with distaste laced in his voice. “I haven’t gotten used to it”

"Of course you haven’t, you’re the kind of guy who saves babies, it’s kinda like saving an anchor, when you’re stuck on a boat-“ you had by know decided to drown out his voice as he tried to make justiciable to let him go.

Your thoughts got filled with Daryl like they had for the most time since the prison fell. You missed him. He always looked out for you. Ever since you met you were drawn to each other. Daryl used to pretend he hated you, especially when Merle was around he couldn’t have his brother think he was soft. However everyone knew he had always secretly looked out for you ever since he met you he’d felt the need to protect you. It came to the point that whenever you wanted to go on a run to get new supplies or do anything really you’d always ask Daryl. You had never spoken about it to each other but there was a silent agreement between everyone even you and Daryl that you were his kid and he your father. It might not be by blood but it was how it had come to be. Everytime something happened to you if you got hurt or if you were sad they’d always notify Daryl, but most of the time he already knew and would be with you to try and cheer you up in his own moody way. When you’d been out on the road before you found the prison you’d always sleep next to each other making sure the other one was safe. Even in the prison your cells were next to each other. He always looked out for you. He taught you how to hunt, he taught you how to use his crossbow, and to fight people to be able to protect yourself. Like Judith was “little asskicker”, you were the “big asskicker”. You couldn’t help but to miss him and the thought of him being hurt from the people in Terminus made your stomach hurt. You didn’t really want to voice your thoughts but you needed the reassurance and Tyreese was the only one who knew who Daryl was and could give reassurance. So against the warnings your mind gave you, you voiced your concerns.

“Do you think Daryl’s okay?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected as your mind filled with more scenarios in which Daryl had gotten hurt in.

Tyreese turned from Judith to look at you. He tried to give a reassuring look on his face as he answered. “I’m sure he’s fine Y/N”

”So Daryl’s your dad, maybe boyfriend” he continued to gues what Daryl was as you made no indication of actually giving anything away to him. After a while he stopped, he wouldn’t get anywhere with you, but he was still confident that if he talked enough to Tyreese, he would let him go.

“See, you’re a good guy, saving babies and teenagers.

“You have no idea about the things I’ve done”

“You’re a good guy, that’s why you gonna die today, it’s why the baby is going to die, why Y/N is going to die” both you and Tyreese stood up taking an intimidating step towards the man, your knife pointed at him. “Or… you can get in that car, get out of here, keep on being lucky.”

“You think you’re gonna kill me?”

The man turned his sole attention to Tyreese as he answered him. “Why haven’t you killed me? How does having me alive help you? Why the hell are you even talking to me? Take the kids, take the car and go, I don’t want to do this today”

“For your information we could always use you to get more information or we could kill you now, like you said we have-“ you got cut off by an explosion going off. Tyreese rushed to the window to see what was happening and saw the smoke over the forest.

“Is that Terminus?” The man moved forward as if trying to see out through the window but he had no luck in that department as he slouched back towards the wall.

“Yeah, probably”

“Maybe you’re gonna win this, maybe your friend, I mean maybe that woman just got capped, maybe I’m gonna be the one who gets capped when she comes back”

“Nobody’s got to die today”

“Man if you believe that… then it’s definitely gonna be you and the kids, even if the place is burning to the ground”

“Man maybe you can shut up and stop talking before I kill you myself” the man took his eyes of Tyreese to look at you as you had your knife pointed at him an annoyed look on your face. He didn’t believe for a moment that a teenager would be able to kill him, nor win in a fight against him. He had a way to high ego to think that you would be able to do any harm to him, he underestimated both you and Tyreese and when he heard as well as saw Tyreese look out at the walkers coming toward the cabin he moved quickly and soon enough his hands went to hold Judith in a hold that would be easy to break her neck.

He told you both to drop your weapons and you both did so not wanting him to hurt Judith. As he saw the walkers claw at the windows he looked towards Tyreese telling him to go outside. As Tyreese went outside he went over to you and bound your hands together with some spare rope just like you had done to him earlier. He made sure the knot would hold before he went over towards the walkie-talkie and tried to connect to the woman (apparently named Cynthia) on the other side.

While he did all that you tried to desperately tie up the knot that held the rope around your wrist together. Right as you were able to get rid of the rope around your wrist (thankful Daryl taught you how to do it) the noise from outside stopped. It became deathly quiet and the man looked towards were the last pounding against the walls had been. He took out his knife and was about to kill Judith when you quietly and quickly grabbed the knife that was laying right were you left it beside you on the floor and you ran over to the man. You saw red as you knocked him over, he had threatened to kill Judith and Tyreese. Threatened your sister and one of your closest friends. You knocked him towards the floor and your hand went into the air as you threw it down onto him repeatedly stabbing the knife in your hand into him. even after he was clearly dead.

Tyreese had to carefully walk over to you as he took the knife away from you. He told you that the man couldn’t hurt them anymore nor the walkers, everything would be okay. You appreciated his comfort as you hyperventilated for a few minutes over the fact that you’d just killed a human. You’d killed walkers before but never a human being. In your mind it was justified as he was about to kill all of you anyway, but you still felt like you’d lost something inside of you.

It was a while later when you glanced out of the window and saw Carol as she walked towards the cabin, Rick not that far behind. You broke out in a relieve laugh as a smile spread briefly over you lips, this made Tyreese glance out towards where you were looking. You booth scurried to get everything as you both wanted to leave the cabin not being comfortable to stay inside any longer than you needed to.

As both you and Tyreese stepped out of the barn you glanced at the people led by Carol. Your eyes scanned the crowd looking for one person in particular.

Daryl stared at you in disbelief he couldn’t believe you were actually alive, he’d seen you get shot, and without medical attention he guessed you’d died. He hadn’t wanted to keep hoping in case he would someday find your corpse rotting away (either as a walker or actually dead).

Daryl took in your bloodied state, you’d no doubt had to fight. Dirt and blood covered most of your clothes, and your face had a few cuts covered in dried blood. Your once white shirt was miss colored and your jeans had been ripped in some places, your jacket had blood stains all over it. Daryl could only guess what you’d gone through to end up looking like that (he didn’t even look that bad). He didn’t like all the blood covering you, he didn’t like not knowing what had happened, he didn’t like being away from you, he needed to protect you, he’d lost Beth to a couple of strangers, he wouldn’t lose you too.

When your eyes finally found Daryl, you had a soft smile on your face as you saw him visibly relax at your eye contact. While Rick and Carl ran towards Judith in Tyreese’s arms, Daryl stumbled forward towards you, dropping his crossbow to the ground. You met him halfway and he engelfulled you in a tight hug. You’d never know nor would anyone else but Daryl let a few tears fall in relief as he hugged you tightly knowing you were still alive, actually alive. As he felt you wrap your arms around him he felt you hug him just as tight, the comforting sensation you both brought each other was all you needed to ground each other and know that either of you were dreaming, this was real and both of you were okay.

As Daryl heard you sniffle he realized you were crying and he hugged you even tighter, taking one hand to your head and petting it softly — not knowing fully how to comfort someone, even now, having comforted you all those times before he still was unsure if he did it right. However he did know that you were crying from relief, because he did the same thing. You had your father back and he had his kid back and knowing that, you both knew that everything would be okay in the end. You were yet to be bested by someone when together, even when apart you always won, always found your way to back to each other. You would beat this world together and that was all that you needed to know, and the fact that neither of you were planning on leaving soon.

[ghosty-dsmp]

Btw might edit this intro a lot, so check it out for some changemnents incase

Btw lately I've been posting a lot of vent and shitposting and idc ehat you belive in or what pro or anti something that you are, i really don't care, as long as your happy, be yourself, i also block freely , also, Most of the time i put a tw in the vents but sometime i forget

Hi!! Welcome to my intro!! Im a proshipper and whateverother terms for that are, im also pro paraphilia and maybe am one but anti contact ofc! I mostly do dsmp and dandy's world, but only the characters (c!), i do this for fun, my name is ghosty, im trans (ftm) and im aroace, i am a kemonomimi, a racoon pretty sure or some kind insect, not fully sure (i am not a furry or a therian but i respect them), i am also a sadist which i hid this for year but i just said it out loud and also a masochist, and think of very fucked up disgusting things to do to people which i really don'twant to condon irl, i have dyslexia and autism, schizophrenia, i am hypersexual, depression, ocd, hpd, and other stuff, most of those are diagnosed (except hpd but i did lots and lots and lots of research on it for almost 2 years), i am a chronic ill person with heart disease that i will not name, lots of chances that i have pots, i will post random shit or reblogs or answer anonymous message or vent about my life, oh and im also 15 so please be 13+ if you interact!! Oh, im also canadian, so i might use terms that americans people won't understand, english is not my first language, Oh and im a selfshipper (c!tommy my beloved)

Yay little edit!! I might flirt ir tease you but don't take it romantically cause it will only be plantonic, don't think that everything i say is romantically like one of my mutuals did, people thinking that when i tease or flirt with as romantically way is weird, i am going to say this again, i am aroace and do not feel any attraction to anyone and anything, when do flirt or tease you i mean it in a plantonic way/a joke.

ignore if i say something that isn't about dsmp, i use my tumblr like a journal since i can't afford it irl and can't find one, so yea and btw this is my sign off -> 💿👽

My fav creators on here -> @/sweetashe @/pro-at-licking-cheese @/frozenjuiceboxx @/justpoppystuff @/huh-collective please go follow them, they are awesome

@/laromi-immoral (mood board made by them)

[cloverchameleon]

It Has to be Perfect! Sonic Big Bang 2025!

This year I participated in a Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang event via @sthbigbang as a fic writer. This will be my first time posting a fic to tumblr, so that'll be interesting. As part of this event, I collaborated with a few artists who've drawn some amazing pieces for this story!

@thekeerok [art link]

@chiaraeliz [art link]

@pyriteparasite [art link]

Beta read by @harthic

It Has to be Perfect! Pairing: Tangle/Whisper (IDW comics) Length: 7,141 words, oneshot Rating: G Summary: Tangle is a lemur on a mission. A mission to create one grand, absolutely perfect, peak romance date for her girlfriend, Whisper. But with so many wacky characters around, something is bound to go a little sideways - okay, maybe a lot of somethings. But she can salvage this! ...right?

[SPOILER WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE IDW SONIC COMICS UP TO ISSUE #75, INCLUDING THE TANGLE & WHISPER MINISERIES]

Jewel the Beetle flits comfortably through the familiar streets of Spiral Hill Village on a beautiful, quiet day. Every day in Spiral Hill tends to be very quiet – with a few very notable and extreme exceptions. It’s part of what she always liked about it, having as nervous of a temperament as she does; the slow, monotonous day to day of such a place, even from more of a leadership position, was always a cozy, manageable level of stress. And when anxiety makes a few misappropriated agates feel like the world crashing down, this place really did feel like the most she would ever be able to handle. It’s a little strange to be back here now, after everything she’d gotten wrapped up in and the genuine world-crashing stakes she’s had to lead people through. But just as much as this place has a comforting pillow-fort security to it to her, she knows one girl who finds that kind of peace and quiet stifling to the point of madness. In fact, that’s why she’s on a mission here now. It’s because she knows that Tangle the Lemur was coming home for a little while between adventures – and that if she hasn’t heard back from her, whining about being bored or cooking up some new thing to chase down, she may well have gotten caught up in another incident in this town’s sudden increase in incidents per year.

Jewel flies up to the door of Tangle’s home and gives it a nervous little knock.

“…maybe she’s not h-“

The door slams open. “HELLO?”

Tangle is wide-eyed, restless, disheveled. That sort of post all-nighter so-tired-it-looped-back-around-to-hyper jittery. “Oh, hey Jewel! I’m kinda busy – is everything okay?”

Jewel is taken aback – and not just the distance she had to get aback to dodge the door.

“I’m… fine. Are you?”

“I’m great – I’m so good! Oh! You like planning stuff! Come here, you’ll love this!”

“AAH!”

Tangle pulls Jewel along like a startled balloon into the house, excitedly rambling “I’ve been working on this for ages, but I’ve finally got every detail ironed out – it’s a foolproof plan, Jewel! Every possibility accounted for!”

“You… planned something?”

“Yeah!”

“In detail?”

“All the detail!! That’s why I wanna show you, you’re the most enthusiastic planner I know, I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of… this?”

Tangle trails off looking back at Jewel. Jewel in the meantime has snagged an umbrella and tearfully holds it overhead, ready to bash.

“Alright, shapeshifter – where’s the real Tangle?”

Tangle looks unimpressed. She plucks the umbrella away with her tail.

“I’m not a shapeshifter, I’m planning a date for Whisper. Do you want to see my cool plans or not?”

Jewel looks skeptical.

Tangle sighs. “When we were 9 you submitted an anonymous tip to the town newspaper to complain about the font choice for the new street signs and got embarrassed because everyone knew it was you.”

“It wasn’t a good font… Okay, fine, I believe you’re you. But can you blame me? I’ve never known you to plan anything in high detail. Do you usually do this for dates?”

“Only when it really matters.” Tangle flings the umbrella to go crash into some other part of the room that can be a later problem. She opens a door and triumphantly bounces in. “Check it, Jewel!”

Jewel’s eyes widen taking in the scene.

“Oh… oh my.”

“BAM!” Tangle throws her arms open wide, slapping the wall where she’s set out a conspiracy board of sorts – pictures, notes, printed reviews and menus, a big world map festooned with little doodles and pins – even bits of red string that don’t seem to be actually connecting ideas to each other. Simply there because boards have red string.

“I’ve been working on it all week! Ha-HAH! It’s gonna be GREAT!!” She grins and bounces in place. “I’ve been reading a ton of articles about all the most romantic places and things in the world – I’ve become a whole romance-ologist!”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Jewel’s quiet objection is completely bowled over by Tangle cartwheeling to the far end of the chart and carrying on. “But I hear ya, Jewel – ‘Tangle, these are all over the place! There’s no way you can do them all in one date!’ WRONG! Cause Tails gave me this!”

She whips out a small, yellow-orange remote control, with a zig-zaggy antenna with a ball on the end, a little keyboard and screen, and a tiny little fox nose and whiskers decal on it.

“This bad boy’ll let me put in the coordinates of anywhere on the planet and zip-zap-zop, there we are!! He said – he said, uh – that’s it! He said:

‘That multi-portal Eggman and I built with Starline’s weird tech got me thinking. We have friends all over the world – Sonic’s fast, but even he gets tired running back and forth across the whole ocean when someone needs him – and that doesn’t help the rest of us get there to help too! I can only make the Tornado so fast before it’s too dangerous for passengers. So I’ve been reverse engineering the blah blah blah tech talk, satellites or something, I dunno – to make the MOVE System! All my tests have been going great, it’s safe to use, it just needs a stress test to see how much use it can take! And I can’t think of anyone better to stress it out than you.’

“So he gave me the remote, showed me how to use it, and bada-bing bada-boom, IDEA!” she slaps the chart again, “OPERATION KISS THE GIRL!”

Jewel reels – as she often does when trying to keep up with Tangle – and looks at all the pinned stops. “Put in… coordinates? Tangle, doesn’t that mean you need to know the exact latitude and longitude of every place on this list? There’s no way you can memorize all-“

“I WAS UP ALL NIGHT MEMORIZING ALL OF THEM!” she pumps her arms triumphantly. She turns and starts pointing at places, listing off coordinate codes at top Tangle speed until Jewel puts a hand over her mouth.

“Sweetie, don’t you think this is all a bit… much? This is far too much pressure to put on yourself for one date.”

“No it’s not.”

Jewel jumps at her sudden serious tone.

“Whisper trusts me. I know you don’t know her like I do, but that’s a big deal. She deserves better – she deserves everything.” Tangle wrings the hem of her shirt. “She deserves this much effort and so much more, and I’m gonna give it all to her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t regret it.”

“Regret it? Tangle…”

Jewel is cut off this time by a loud beeping. Tangle shoves back the edge of her glove to reveal a little watch and turns off its alarm.

“THAT’S TIME!! I gotta go pick up my girlfriend! Bye Jewel, see ya later, stay safe, byeeeee!!!”

She speeds off, sending papers flying off her chart in the slipstream. Jewel reaches for her helplessly. Worried.

Whisper the Wolf meanders peacefully through Spiral Hill Village. It’s a much more pleasant place to visit when you’re not in a high stakes game of cat and mouse with a murderous traitor or… something. Yeah, much nicer without something like that hanging over one’s head. It’s hard to imagine someone like Tangle coming from such a calm place. Or maybe it makes sense that an adventurous spirit would get that hyper with so few adventures in arm or tail’s reach. At the very least, it makes sense that such a sleepy town tasked with raising a Tangle would be as ready to brace and dodge that swinging, flipping, bouncing ball of energy as the way Whisper watches them respond to her running up the street toward her.

“HIIII WHISPER!” Tangle calls, waving enthusiastically. She dives at Whisper, who just as readily braces herself to let Tangle swing her momentum out – revolving around her before wrapping back into a hug.

“You seem extra excited… something to do with that surprise you promised me?” Whisper’s soft, quiet voice teases.

Tangle grabs onto Whisper’s shoulders to lean back and squeal. “Yes yes yes it is! Cause I have this!” She whips out the little remote.

Whisper shifts her mask to eye it curiously. “…what is it?”

“This, my fair lady, is the very first remote for the – the, uh – the-“ she squints at the label maker sticker on the back, “Mobility Over Variable Energies… system.”

They both stare at the cartoony device.

“You know, I think he comes up with a good acronym first and then picks whatever words he can make fit it.” Tangle says.

“It also has two-way radio, so maybe watch what buttons you’re pressing before you start making comments.” The device crackles back.

Tangle grimaces. “Sorry, Tails – thank you, Tails.” She releases the microphone button. “A-anyway. As I was saying – I have big plans for us today, Whisper! First stop, Apotos!!”

Whisper tilts her head. “Apotos? If this is going to be a whole trip, I could use a little more time to prepare…”

“Why Whisper, my dear, who needs to take a whole long, expensive trip like that when we can have a one-day Apotos vacation at the push of a button?”

Tangle types. And types. “…at the push of several buttons HEY there we GO!”

She points the remote at an empty space nearby and confirms her coordinates in the system. Almost instantly, space wibbles and warps, ripples spreading out like a pebble dropped in a pond. A whirling, light orange portal sits in front of them. Tangle gives a little bow and holds her arm out to Whisper with a wink.

“Shall we depart, miss?”

Whisper breathes out a tiny laugh and takes her arm. Together, they step through the whirling light. Back at Spiral Hill, the portal closes quickly behind them.

The two of them are hit with a sensation not unlike missing a step on a staircase. A disoriented lurch and the sensation of falling toward very close ground. They support each other as they catch their footing on the other side of a rippling orange circle that’s waved to life just above pale cobblestone paths.

The duo step, blinking against the brighter light, out into a breezy Apotos morning. The sunlight bounces off the white buildings, making them look almost luminous. Seabirds drift lazily on the ocean breeze coming off the perfectly blue water rolling invitingly a little ways off. Whisper approaches the wall of the raised walkway they’re on and leans on it to look out over the water.

“It’s beautiful…”

“Yeah…” Tangle smiles toward her. “Y-yeah! Top ten vacation spot!”

Whisper looks at her curiously.

“S-so I hear – always wanted to visit, so hey, why not, y’know? But uh, yeah, I figure we could…” she does a little circling motion with her finger, “…walk around a bit? Take in the sights, maybe, uh – hey!”

Tangle hops around her, guiding her gaze over toward an ice cream stand opening up for the day.

“Maybe some ice cream for the walk? I’m pretty sure it’s like 8am here, but hey, it was afternoon back home, and clearly no one ever told this guy ice cream isn’t a breakfast food – so that works out for us!”

Whisper snickers. “Sure, ice cream sounds nice.”

And so they stroll together down the alabaster streets of the island, hand-in-hand. It’s certainly a far cry from Spiral Hill – but even the beaches back home have a very different atmosphere to them. There’s simply something in the way the breeze rolls off the ocean here that feels warm and serene compared to their coast’s playfulness. Tangle steals a look over at Whisper. She looks happy. Curious and relaxed, taking in the sights in a way that doesn’t feel tactical this time. Tangle can’t help but smile. She’s doing it! She’s going to get a good grade in girlfriending! A very normal thing to think!! 

Just as they get close enough to the ice cream booth to read the menu, they see the truly decadent cone the vendor is assembling in a little stand and wonder at the balancing act of it all – chocolate and vanilla scoops dotted with chunks of chocolate, multiple fruits both chocolate-dipped and plain around the edge, pocky and an extra wedge of waffle cone in it for good measure – confidently slid across to the edge of the counter at its completion. A work of art to be sure. Although there’s no sign of any customer waiting to eat it before it melts. Before an eager-looking Tangle can volunteer on their behalf, they both jump – battle-ready, alert – at the blur that shoots by and sets the stand spinning in a clattering circle. Robbed of its pride and joy.

Sonic leans against the corner of the booth and looks over the frosty treat. He gives an appreciative whistle. 

“This might be your best one yet! Take a look at that!” he shares a friendly, familiar smile with the shopkeeper before plucking a chocolate-dipped strawberry off to pop into his mouth.

“Only the best for my best customer! And how about you ladies? You look like you could use a scoop or two. What can I get you?”

Sonic follows his eyes to them and waves.

“Well, hey there! Fancy seeing you two here!”

“HI SONIC!” Tangle waves back.

“Hello!” Whisper puts her hand up.

“Friends of yours, I take it?” the vendor asks him.

“Oh yeah, you know me. Mr. Popular over here. I’m guessing they’re here to try the best ice cream in the world – is that right, girls?”

Tangle’s eyes sparkle. “The best in the world? Really?”

“Oh yeah! If you’re looking for recommendations, you’ve got to try the Sundae Supreme,” he waggles the impressive cone, “they come with a hefty seal of approval.”

“A favorite of yours? It doesn’t seem like your usual fare.” Whisper teases.

“Hah, not quite. But a close friend loved them. I come by to get them – for him, you know? And they’re great every time!”

Whisper nods solemnly.

Tangle gulps. The atmosphere is taking a turn for the sad – gotta get this train back on the track!

“SO! If they’re that good, we’ll take two!” She calls, a bit too loudly, to the vendor.

He matches her energy with an equally loud and enthusiastic “Two Sundae Supremes for the lovely ladies, coming right up!”

Tangle taps her foot anxiously, watching Whisper and Sonic continue to chat. They lean on the wall lining the walkway and look out over the water, talking about the scenery here. What if they talk more about this whole memorial ceremony he’s doing – it’s not that she doesn’t care about his loss, that sucks, she’d love to talk about it another time for sure! But what if they start talking about it, and Whisper starts thinking too much about her old friends, and everything she’s done for their memories, and then she gets sad, and she doesn’t want to keep doing this date! And then when she thinks about dates with Tangle she thinks about being miserable in such a pretty place and she doesn’t want to go on any more dates at all, and then she doesn’t want to be her girlfriend at all, and breakups are so awkward, so she stops wanting to see her anywhere, and she leaves, and it’s all her fault, and-

Tangle’s anxious, tapping, spiraling mess of thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash that shakes the walkway. She runs up to the wall and looks down with the others. A submarine of some sort has emerged from the water and started spitting out badniks that are already beginning to attack the outskirts of town.

“Tch, can’t even take one morning off, huh? Alright.” Sonic scarfs down the ice cream cone. “If that’s how Eggman wants to – ahhh ah-ah-ah, brain freeze!”

Whisper points the ice cream vendor toward the buildings. “Go. Get somewhere safe.”

“Good call, Whisper. Ah, geeze, gotta stop eating cold stuff that fast! Alright!” He steps up onto the wall and does a couple stretches in place, “Change of plans! Let’s scramble some eggs, and then ice cream’s on me!”

Whisper nods and draws her wispon.

“WAAAAIIIIT!”

They both stop. They turn, utterly confused, to Tangle.

“Hi, yeah, sorry – actually, Sonic, do you mind if we… maybe dip? We’re uh – we’re sort of on a date? Right now?”

Sonic blinks. “Oh.” He looks between them. “Oh – OH! Yeah, of course! Go, go, have fun! There’s barely any bots here, I can handle this solo no problem – you two go get your romance on! Sorry, Tangle!”

“No problem! We’re just gonna – yeah! We’re just gonna head out!”

She hooks Whisper’s arm and types a new code onto the remote, quickly popping up a new portal.

“Ooh, fresh Tails tech?”

“Yeah!”

“Nice. Alright, you kids have fun now. I’ll catch ya later!” Sonic gives them a little salute and hops off the wall.

“Come on, he’s got this. And we’ve got plans!” Tangle encourages Whisper. She sighs and begrudgingly puts her wispon away.

“Okay… where did you have in mind?”

They step through to a bustling city center, alive with chatter and cars – a sharp contrast to the slow, relaxed Apatos coast.

“Tah-dah!” Tangle trumpets at a crosswalk. “Oh. Wait-“ she takes Whisper’s shoulders and rotates both of them. “-tah-dah!”

They stand in front of a neon wonder – a world of flashing lights and dinging, singing machinery known as Secret Zone Games.

“Come on! I bet I can win more tickets than you!” Tangle teases.

Whisper snickers and nods. “You’re on.”

They pick through the digital playground, caught up in mostly friendly competition. Rolling skee-balls, mashing buttons, trying to pick the next nearest game they each think they’ll have the advantage in when they start slipping behind.

“I don’t remember Super Monkey Ball being that hard!” Tangle groans.

Whisper shrugs. “Never played it before.”

“What!? But you totally kicked my tail!!”

“Hm. Skill issue.”

“Ah! AH! Skill issue?? Oh, those are fighting words – that’s it. No more missus nice lemur – let’s cut the kiddie stuff and go where the real warriors test their skills, then we’ll see who has a skill issue!”

“And where would that be?”

“The rhythm games. Sure, you’ve revolutioned, but can you dance, dance?”

“I don’t think revolutioned is a word.”

“She’s dodging the question!” Tangle declares to an imaginary jury, “Sounds like someone’s scared to get shown up!”

Whisper grins. “You’re on.”

“Then let’s go, let’s settle this – all or nothin!”

Racing to the next section of games, they round the corner to an unexpected sight.

“Shadow?” Tangle asks.

Sure enough, the ultimate lifeform stands with his arms crossed next to a large claw machine full of adorable, multi-colored plush chao. And standing at the controls is a little cream-colored rabbit girl with her tongue out in intense concentration. She carefully lines up the claw and pushes the button to lower it into a plushy pile. As the claw makes contact with a doll, she starts aggressively mashing the button – but the doll slips right out of the claw’s loose grip and back into the pile.

“Dang it!” she huffs.

“Why are you hitting the button like that?” Shadow asks her incredulously.

“The internet says it helps.”

Shadow sneers. “Don’t just believe everything you read on the internet, Cream. It’s full of fools and liars.”

“And recipes.”

“Fine, fools, liars, and sometimes recipes.”

Tangle lands on top of the claw machine without warning.

“Hi Shadow! Hi Cream! I didn’t expect to see the two of you here – together, no less! How’d that happen?”

“Hi, Miss Tangle!” Cream waves.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Vanilla called in a favor. And lucky for her, I had nothing better to do today with Rouge taking Omega for maintenance.”

“Mister Shadow babysits me when Mom and Gemerl are busy!”

Tangle grins down at the kid. “Awww, isn’t that sweet! I knew you were a big ol softie, ya ol’ sharp, dark, and broody.”

Shadow snarls up at her. “Aren’t you busy right now?” he demands, gesturing back at Whisper. Her and Cream wave at each other.

“Ah!! You’re right, you’re right – sorry, Whisper! Have fun, Cream! See you around, Shadow!” She flips off of the claw machine.

“Not if I can help it.” Shadow grumbles at her back as she links arms with Whisper and they run off together. And so he turns his attention back to his charge – who is currently counting out her game tokens to see how many more chances she gets to win that chao doll.

“Don’t you want to try a different game?” he asks her, “It may be time to give up on this one.”

“Sonic says you can accomplish anything as long as you don’t give up. So I’m not gonna give up on this toy! I’m gonna win!”

“Tch, what does that guy know? The only thing he can actually outrun is his own sense of reason.”

“So… it doesn’t matter if I try my hardest, I still can’t win?”

“Someti-“ Shadow catches himself. And he catches those big, sad eyes – looking up to him, begging him to tell her the world can be fair. He can’t take it.

“…give it one more try, and then I see something I want to play.”

“Wow, really? Okay! One more try!”

Shadow leans against the machine with a huff while the little girl hypes herself up and inserts her tokens. He checks the coast is clear. And seeing no one looking their way, he presses a hand to the side of the machine. Just a bit more power to the claw. Make sure it holds onto the doll, make sure it carries it by whatever part of the damn thing it touches clear to the chute and into her eager little arms. He whispers to himself, buried under the hyperactive calls of a hundred games that couldn’t take her attention from her dreams.

“Chaos… control.”

Tangle and Whisper watch the commotion from the established perimeter. Whisper watches the action curiously. Tangle gapes in disbelief.

“What… do you mean… it caught fire!? Where?? How!?”

Whisper shrugs. “A lot of machines. Maybe the wiring couldn’t handle it.”

“It’s an arcade!!”

“Was an arcade.”

“It’s still an arcade, it’s just a slightly more on fire arcade!” Tangle looks around at the utter chaos. “Oh – HEY! CREAM, SHADOW – THAT WAS CRAZY, RIGHT??”

Shadow is carrying Cream on his back, and she looks absolutely shocked.

“It was the claw machine,” she tells them quietly, “I almost got my doll and the whole thing sparked green and started melting. How did that happen – did I do that?”

Shadow clears his throat uncomfortably. “It chose death rather than allow you victory over it. A coward’s way out.”

“Coward.” Cream parrots. Whisper nods.

“Yeesh, well that sucks.” Tangle rubs her neck with a grimace. “Guess that’s a sour note on both our days out, huh?”

Cream perks up. “Shadow says we’re gonna go to the toy store and I can pick out any doll I want!”

“She earned her victory square, I’ll not let her go home empty-handed.” He looks at Tangle smirking at him. “…stop that.”

“And in exchange, I don’t tell Momma we burned an arcade down!”

“IT’S NOT BURNED DOWN, IT’S JUST A LITTLE MORE ON FIRE.” Shadow and Tangle both exclaim.

Tangle puts her hands up before Shadow can glare at her any harder. “Okay, okay – well you two have fun with that! Whisper and I also have a backup plan~!”

“We do?”

“Yes indeed we do – I think we need more fun and games a lot closer to a source of water, don’t you?” She punches some numbers into her remote. “All aboard the romance train! Next stop, Emerald Coast! WHOO-WHOO!”

Tangle dances through the portal backwards, keeping an eye on Whisper, who gives her a little smile and a little, reserved arm waggling in return on their way through.

The air immediately smells and feels a world apart from the city. Now it’s heavy with the smells of fried foods and sweet treats galore, carried on a fresh saltwater breeze, and music and chatter carry across it more freely in the more open space.

“Tah-dah! There’s a carnival in town today! Come on, let’s play a couple more games and get that arcade energy out of us!”

“And then we can get some of those delicious-smelling snacks, right?”

“Well, if you insist.”

Whisper gives a little giggle, taking Tangle’s arm again. It’s perfect, she’ll win ring toss, or that milk bottle game, or both! And then she can give Whisper the prize from those and impress her! And if Whisper wants, she’d be a shoe-in for those shooting games these things always have, being a sniper and all, so she can also have a chance to show off and be so cool and pretty and – and then! She knows exactly what time they need to get on that big, beautiful ferris wheel in a few hours so they’ll be up at the top when the sun’s setting into the water, and it’ll be gorgeous and romantic and maybe they’ll even kiss and-

“Actually,” Whisper leans through Tangle’s thought bubble, “I’m kind of hungry. How about we get some food now and eat it by the beach? We can play afterwards.”

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah!!” Tangle pivots away from the game alley. “Yeah, let’s eat first! The beach looks great right now too, that’s a great idea!”

So they instead follow the siren call of unholy amounts of breaded and fried food. Soon they’re making their way down the pier, balancing their greasy treasures. In one hand Whisper holds the stick of a silly sort of corndog with a second, mini corndog jabbed on under it to make a little exclamation point  - in the other, a tray of fresh, hot onion rings. Tangle pants, trying to not burn her mouth on the ring sacrificed to make room for little paper cups of ketchup and mustard, her own hands occupied with a truly staggering concoction that might have once been considered tater tots, but has since been drowned beyond recognition in shredded meat, hot peppers, and Gaia knows what else hiding under all that cheese sauce – and an enormous lemonade. With two straws, naturally. The couple finds a nice spot along the edge of the walkway and sit down, dangling their legs out over the idyllic blue water. They watch the birds sweep easy arches toward the sea and back up into the sky while they eat.

It's a comfortable sort of quiet. Peaceful. The kind of moment neither of them had known in a long time, if ever, before they found each other. Whisper’s not very talkative anyway, but since losing the original Diamond Cutters, she’s grown used to long stretches of quiet. But that’s a hollow kind of quiet. The kind that feels heavy from what is supposed to be filling it but can’t anymore. Hours, days, weeks left alone with just her thoughts and replays of better times to keep her company. It grew comfortable in the same way being cold for too long makes you start to feel warm. And then there was Tangle. A loud, relentlessly chatty, energetic summer’s day. Thawing out hurt. But now that she’s been warm again, a cool breeze – a moment of close quiet like this – feels good.

Heaven help Tangle if she’s ever been able to let a room stay quiet for more than a minute in her life. Spiral Hill is great, she loves her home, but it’s always been so boriiiiiiing! Just sitting there like a blank canvas begging for a splash of paint to liven it up! For years Tangle’s been the only one holding a paintbrush, bouncing off every wall, filling the sleepy quiet with any adventure she could scrape together from misplaced tools and lone stray badniks. And then she met the Sonic – and because of him, she met Whisper! And sure she was quiet too, but she had all these adventures, and cool battle skills, and a mysterious past! And a painful past. And a good reason to want to stay small and quiet. And Tangle felt so, so guilty for… for a lot of things she messed up with her. And now she kind of got it. How sometimes, it’s just nice to enjoy a moment of quiet for a bit and know it doesn’t need to be filled with noise right now. Because that moment of peace and quiet made a pretty wolf trying to find the mustard stuck on her fur look that unguarded.

But a quiet moment is just that: a moment. Tangle has too much planned to spend the rest of the day sitting on some wood staring at the water – totally just at the water, that’s all she was staring at! She pops back up to her feet.

“Alright! That was delicious, buuuut! I believe we have a date with some games, don’t we?”

“Do we? That’s odd…” Whisper tilts her head.

Tangle’s tail droops. “Do… do we not?”

“It’s just,” Whisper smiles, “I could have sworn my date was with you.”

Tangle snorts. “Okay, very funny.” She reaches down to help Whisper up and bundles their collective lunch trash into a proper container. “Come on, come on, come on! Those booths are callin’ our names, I can hear them from here!”

They hold hands and stroll their way back down the pier. Tangle gestures with her tail to make up for the occupied hand.

“Sooo, how are you at hoops? These things always have a basketball thing, yeah?”

“Why Tangle, are you questioning my aim?” Whisper teases.

“No, I’m questioning your throwing arm.” Tangle teases right back.

“Those sound like fighting words.”

“Well maybe they are! So come on, let’s… rumble?”

They pause, looking around for a source for the rumbling affecting the pier, making the wooden structure shake like an earthquake.

“Move, move, move!!” someone yells.

“WHAT!?” Tangle screeches, seeing the source.

Amy Rose, hammer out, runs full tilt down the walkway while frantically shouting for everyone on it ahead of her to run back to safety. And behind her an absolutely gargantuan orca!? An orca bigger than Tangle even thought they got is crashing through the pier CHASING HER DOWN.

“Tangle! Come on!” Whisper tugs the stunned lemur’s hand, running them both toward safety. She shakes off the shock and also focuses on running. Before long she’s pulling ahead of Whisper and dragging her along at her speed. All the while behind them, Amy swings and smashes at chunks of wooden planks, intercepting them in mid-air from hitting the fleeing carnival-goers.

Once they reach the end of the pier, Tangle and Whisper turn back, with tail and wispon protecting the gathered people from debris so Amy can focus on spinning, winding up, charging up a decisive slam of her hammer into the orca, finally redirecting it away from all the people. They all wait, watching for a surprise second phase… but it seems the danger’s passed for now. Amy twirls on her heel and bounces the hammer up on her shoulder.

“Hey, girls!” she waves.

Whisper slowly lowers her wispon and awkwardly waves back. Tangle’s tail, arms, ears – everything that can droop droops, staring at the floating pile of debris that was, until very recently, the Emerald Coast boardwalk.

“Wha… that… why…” she stammers.

“Oh, that whole thing?” Amy gestures too casually at the wreckage. “Eh, it happens sometimes.”

“WHALES HAPPEN SOMETIMES!?”

“Well, actually orcas are more closely related to dolphins?” Amy taps the hammer handle thoughtfully.

“Oh sweet Gaia.”

“Is that why you were in the area?” Whisper tilts her head.

“What? Oh, no, no – I mean, it’s lucky I was! Or maybe fate? I actually had a little fortune telling booth set up over there, I was giving tarot readings.” Amy pulls a deck of unevenly stacked cards out of her pocket. “But then, you know… orca happened.”

A breeze off the water sends a particularly loose card flying out of the set and away before Amy can drop her hammer and grab it – so it’s Whisper snatching it out of the air. And holding it back out to her. She sighs in relief, more fazed by almost losing a card than being chased by a dock-destroying murder dolphin.

“Oh my goodness, thank you! They’re not really together properly, it’s so hard to gather cards in a hurry! Oh – but as they say! If a card jumps out, it’s trying to tell you something! So let’s see what card jumped at you… Ooh, The Lovers, I adore that one!” Amy looks up from the card at them. She looks like she’s about to say more, but she holds that thought. She looks between Whisper, and just behind her where Tangle is pulling on her own ears in stress.

Amy claps her hands over her mouth with a gasp. “Were you two on a date??”

“Yes, we were just about to play some games. But it, uhm…” Whisper leans to look past Amy at the destruction and the amount of the boardwalk now out of reach. “…I assume the carnival is closing early.”

“But that doesn’t mean the romance train is derailed!” Tangle bursts in, already punching new coordinates – maybe harder than is very nice to the buttons – onto the remote. “We’ve got more stops to go! CHOO CHOO! ROMANCE!” She insists, punching the activation button and opening a new portal.

“Oh! Neat, is that Tails’ newest…” Amy tries.

“DEPARTING NOW! ALL ABOARD!” Tangle calls, sliding Whisper through and following close behind. To the next stop. The next perfect date spot, the next backup of a backup of a backup plan!

Backups of backups of backups become backup-backup-backup-backups, become back-back-back-back-backups, become –

Becomes a beautiful day at the Sunset City Central Park, until Rouge and Omega come crashing through, shrubbery catching on fire from Omega’s thrusters, bag leaking jewelry with guards hot on their tail.

Becomes a cute little café and bakery in Seaside City with delicious sweets, coffee, and tea galore – until Vector crashes through the awning onto their table, Espio and Charmy close behind on some investigation or other – becomes Silver and Blaze rushing up to them, saying something about a timeline-altering event about to happen that-

“NO!!”

Tangle grabs the remote once again, by now starting to feel very warm, and smacks in some more numbers, slams the activation button again, drags Whisper through another portal to another spot where another plan can go all

Wrong. She put in the coordinates wrong. They’re on land at least, barely, popping out on a cliffside overlooking the water once again. Problem is, she has no idea where this is, she doesn’t even know which ocean she’s looking at right now. She chokes down an aggravated screech into more of an angry beep and starts trying to punch in on the remote. But the casing feels so hot, the numbers are flickering on and off the screen as she tries to type them. Finally with an anticlimactic pop, the little fox-faced remote fizzles out.

Tangle stares at it. She tries to push the buttons. It does nothing. She tries to turn it off and back on again. It does nothing. It does nothing, it does nothing, it does nothing, it

Her hands shake. Her grip threatens to crack the plastic casing – as if she could make it any less functional. Her vision gets blurry. She can’t think of anything else to do, so she spikes the remote to the ground and collapses. She curls tight in on herself, wrapping her tail around her like a cocoon.

Stupid – how could she be so stupid! All this work to try and impress Whisper, to try and do something right for her, just this one time to think ahead – to look before she leaps so she doesn’t make a mess of things – and where did it get her? Where did it get both of them!? Stranded Gaia-knows-where. And it’s all her fault. It keeps being all her own fault.

“Tangle?”

She can’t summon up an answer. Apologizing again feels so hollow. She doesn’t have an excuse for this.

Whisper, softly as her name implies, steps closer. She looks over the tight coil of fur, staggered by the intensity of it all. Her hand stutters in the air between them, wanting to reach for Tangle but… not sure if she should. Not sure how to handle this at all. She knows Tangle wears her heart on her sleeve and feels everything so fully – it’s one of the things she loves most about her. But she’s seen her unbridled joy, her righteous fury, her seemingly boundless excitement over everything. She’s even, on rare occasion, seen her slammed-brake brand of hesitation, of doubt.

She’s never known her to break like this.

So she does what Tangle would. She pushes forward, running her hand softly, hopefully comfortingly, across the tail enveloping her.

“Tangle, what’s wrong?” she tries, a little louder.

“…I broke it…” Tangle sniffles.

“No,” Whisper gently corrects, settling to the ground next to her, shoulder to tail. “I don’t mean what happened to the remote. I mean… I didn’t know how to say it earlier. You’ve been on edge all day.”

She nestles in closer and rests her cheek against Tangle’s tail.

“You’ve been so jumpy. You’re running away from fighting alongside our friends. Even if they don’t need us for these little things, that’s not like you. Even now – we both know you hate small spaces like that, you can’t feel better wrapping yourself up like this. Tangle, did something happen?”

She slides her fingers between the coils as if she could pry them open and free Tangle from her self-imposed cage. She presses her forehead into the fur.

“You’re always there for me when there’s too much for me to handle on my own. From the moment we met, you’ve never let me face a battle alone. Please. Whatever happened, whatever hurt you – we’ll face it together.”

Tangle’s tail loosens. The loops gradually slipping, melting off of her into a limp, pathetic nest. She looks to Whisper with big, teary eyes and a hiccuped sob. She tips over, dropping her head into Whisper’s waiting shoulder to be hugged.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles wetly, “I messed it all up, I’m sorry.”

Whisper shushes her and rubs the back of her head. “It was an accident. Everyone said that remote was new, right? How would you know that would-“

“No, no, no! I mean – yeah, I broke the remote too – but it’s not just the remote, it’s the whole rotten thing!” Tangle sits back. “I picked all those stupid places, and every single one of them went wrong! I just wanted to give you one perfect day – no fights, no stakes – just one day where you could relax and have fun and not have to worry about anything! You deserve so much more than that, but I messed it up again!”

“What?” Whisper reaches for Tangle’s cheek. “Again?”

“Yeah, again! After everything you went through before, you still trusted me – and what did I do with that? I got got by the zombots and made you go through all that again!”

“You didn’t mean to – you didn’t even know back then.”

“And then when you were dealing with Mimic I let him trick me – twice! In one day! And when he came back again I didn’t have your back, I let him pull one over on me again instead of listening to you! I took the Diamond Cutter name without asking you first – I keep pushing you and messing things up for you, and not thinking and getting you hurt, and you deserve better than any of it – you deserve better than you’ve gotten – you deserve better than me!”

“Tangle!”

Whisper cups Tangle’s face, wet with tears, and makes her look at her. She thumbs across her cheeks to wipe some of it away.

“Tangle, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t blame you for half of that stuff, and the things I was mad at you for, I already forgave you. And I’ve been having a lot of fun today. I’ve just been worried about you. I’ve been worried about you being so stressed because I love you. And I want you to be okay too.” She presses their foreheads together. “We’ve both made our mistakes. And I think we’re going to make more. But I trust you. Whether I wanted to or not, I trust you. So I trust that whatever else happens, we’ll get through it together. That’s all I could want from you.”

Tangle sniffles. She wraps her hand around Whisper’s on her cheek and closes her eyes, leaning into the embrace.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect…” Whisper breathes, “…it just needs to be us.”

Her hands fall off Tangle’s face as the lemur lurches forward and pulls her into a tight embrace. Tangle’s tail wraps behind her to catch them from completely falling into the grass, giving them a soft place to sit and melt into each other’s grip. Even once they relax back into a less overwhelmed cuddle, it serves as a nice cushion for them to look out over the water and finally take in the view they stumbled into. Wherever they are, it’s evening here, as the sun is setting in just the right way to paint the clouds vibrant oranges and pinks and the sea the kind of almost purple-ish color they talk about in old poetry.

With a crackle and a pop, Tails' voice calls out to them. "Tangle? Whisper? Are you guys still together?"

Tangle grabs the remote the voice is coming from. "Of course we're still together!" she cries back at it, gripping it tightly in both hands, "It didn't go that badly!!"

"Oh good!" Tails gives a staticy, compressed sigh of relief. "When I got a critical error message from the MOVE System, I was worried. But it put you both in the same place, that's good!"

"Oh! Yeah!" Tangle sweats. "Yep, physical proximity! We're sure in the same location in space, yep, no worries!"

Whisper snickers behind her mask.

"Okay, great! I'm going to triangulate the distress signal from your remote off the other Tails-tech around - I'll come get you in the Tornado as soon as I can!"

Tangle and Whisper look at each other for a moment. Whisper gives her a soft, encouraging smile. Tangle grins back and lifts the remote.

“Take your time, Tails.”

Tangle settles back, pulling her tail a little closer around the two of them.

“We’ll be alright.”

[calliecwrites]

Shifter HRT, part 8 – Return to Hyper City (11 Months)

I’m on the way back to Hyper City. It’s the middle of winter, there’s a bitter wind, and it’s almost dark even though it’s still only afternoon. The bus is empty. Hardly anyone’s heading out this way on a day like this. When I get off at the tiny village, all the shops are already shut. But I’m not here for the village – I’m once again following the ritual that takes me to another world.

Tonight I’m heading to the Hyper Light Festival, the winter festival at the crossroads of reality. This time I’m ready. I am enough, and this time I’m not running away.

Look closely, and it’s clear I’m not human anymore. More of my body has changed, and I’ve been practising. My bones and organs are still the same, so the forms I can take now are mostly ‘human plus’ – little tweaks and additions to the basic human shape. I’m learning, step by tiny step. I’m wearing a few subtle signs of my inhumanity – my ears are a bit longer and pointier, my tongue is slightly forked, and I’ve got a greenish tinge to most of my skin, except for a few parts that still haven’t changed. It’s quite the contrast with my red hair. This is the first colour change I’ve managed to do. Do shifters have a default colour when fluid? I’ve never gotten a clear answer. But if mine was going to be green, I’d be totally fine with that.

Why not bigger changes, when I’ve been playing with arms and legs and all kinds of things? Partly because I still can’t hold the big things for long. Small changes I can hold now with only a little bit of effort. And, uh, partly because my tops don’t have enough sleeves. Who’d have guessed that human clothes aren’t designed for that? But this time I’m wearing my T-shirt with ‘be goo, do crimes’ on it, and damn anyone who makes a fuss. I’ve been running on adrenaline since I stepped out of the house looking not entirely human – but it’s so quiet, there’s been no one here to notice.

When I arrive in Hyper City, I stop by the registration office to get my shapeshifter license. I’m still slightly annoyed that I have to do this at all – do they think I’m going to try taking over the city as soon as I can imitate someone important? – but I can’t put it off any longer. I’m now officially a ‘provisional physiological polymorph’, and I’ve got a card to prove it – meaning someone who will, eventually, be able to take on any form as part of how my body works, without using magic. Blob of goo that can turn into anything, basically. They do some kind of scan to identify which world I’m from, and note that down too. And now I’m accepting that there really is magic here – seeing it listed on an official form in a dusty government office is what finally convinces me. It’s not just super-advanced tech, like I’d assumed.

Then I head for the central plaza. I can hear music in the distance, and hints of tantalising smells drift on the wind. By the time I get close, the streets are packed. And the plaza itself is full of… everything.

Hyper City doesn’t just connect to our world, but to many worlds, and all their winter festivals come together here. Yes, the multiverse is real. People changing species isn’t the only mind-boggling thing in this city.

There are stalls selling crafts, people dancing, performing, wearing costumes and masks, music, enchanters, impossible sculptures held together by magic – and more. Unfamiliar and enticing smells waft from stalls selling food from across the worlds. I hear voices in a hundred languages. There are people telling stories, playing games, eating and drinking, all packed in side by side. I spot a giant Christmas tree with glowing globes clustered round it, and it’s only one tiny part of everything.

It’s so much. Almost too much. My mind is drinking in the details. But I’m starting to relax. Enjoying the spectacle. Anonymity in the crowd.

The buildings around the plaza are brightly lit. Globes of light drift overhead, and now and again there are people in the air, too. If I had any doubt there’s actual magic here, it’s gone. I briefly wonder if you can acquire magic if you come from a world without any – something to check up on later. In places, people are gathered around bonfires, or at shrines to more gods than I’ve ever heard of. At street level it’s dim, on purpose I think, and many people carry candles. As they move it’s like a slow river of lights winding between the stalls. Light is a common theme here, and warmth, and protection – light against the darkest time of the year.

Snowflakes flutter on the wind. The parts of me that are still human are cold, but the parts that have changed are comfortable even in this.

And in the crowd, here and there, I spot therians and otherkin at all stages of transition – people who started off with a human body, but were never really human on the inside – people like me. The ones early on are a patchwork of human parts and changed parts, just like I am. We’re still a minority even here, but for once, I don’t feel out of place. It lights me up inside like my first time at Pride. I can’t stop grinning. I mean, technically I could, because I’m a shifter and could rearrange my face enough for that, even at this stage… but you know what I mean. I don’t want to.

Someone catches my eye, over where the crowd is a bit thinner. It’s their colour I notice first – a gloopy orange, almost like syrup. Then I notice their arms are entirely made of goo, translucent and with no bones inside, and so is their hair. They must be a slime! I’ve been reading a few slimes’ transition journals online, and we have a lot in common – we’re on different routes to a similar place. I don’t know if our species are actually related, or if it’s convergent evolution, but either way – someone else who’s a gelatinous blob that can shape themselves however they like? Sounds like someone who gets it!

Before I even think about it, I’m slowly making my way closer through the crowd. And now I’m nervous as hell – going up to some random person in the real world, just because they’re kinda like me? But that was the whole reason for coming here. That’s what I was hoping might happen. The festival was just an excuse, really.

As I get closer, I see that the rest of their head is still opaque and human, aside from the orange tint to their skin. But their fingers are tipped with claws, their bare feet are bird-like with talons, and they have a little blob of goo like a rabbit’s tail on their back. Their clothes look very waterproof, even though it isn’t raining – and oh, that must be to stop their slime soaking into things. I haven’t had that problem yet, but can totally believe it’ll be a thing later.

And then I’m there, grinning nervously – and, yes, with excitement too. I form another arm – a bit awkwardly because of the too-small sleeves – and wave with all three.

“Hi?” I say. “I saw that you’re a slime and uh…”

“Oh, uh, hi!” they reply, waving back. “Uh, yeah, I am a slime… and so are you by the looks of things!” they add with a growing smile.

“Close,” I say, “I’m a shifter! But I’m gooey too.” I turn my third hand fluid for a moment.

They raise an eyebrow. “Oh neat – wait? Like a shapeshifter?”

“Yeah! Actually I guess there must be lots of kinds of shapeshifters here, with the whole multiverse thing. We just call ourselves ‘shifters’ for short. Or, well, sometimes the People of Change if we’re being poetic – ‘fluid as the ocean, wild as the wind’, that kind of thing…” My voice cracks slightly on that phrase, that’s been with me my whole life, focus of so much longing. Then I laugh gently, as I poke my human parts: “Which I’m not, yet, as you can see.”

“Oohh! I do like the ‘fluid as the ocean’ bit, kinda hits very close.” They raise their arm, rippling it like a wave.

I don’t immediately respond, only to realise I’m staring at their arm. I pull my gaze away. “Sorry,” I say, laughing awkwardly, “I think my mind is trying to figure out how to copy your colour, but I don’t know how to do orange yet. I only just figured out green.” I let the green fade away in places, my skin changing back to its original colour, before bringing the green back. “It’s a nice colour.”

The slime looks a little flustered. “Don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before, that they wanna try my colour, or that I have a nice colour, not really sure how to respond to that, but thank you – can say I’m quite a fan, so would definitely recommend it when you can though.” They pause a second before continuing. “But, and, uh, sorry if this is kinda rude, but uh, you still kinda look part human, I was told you had to become something else before you could do shapeshifter stuff?”

“I just got straight on shifter HRT,” I say, shrugging, “there was no mention of anything else. But I’m not going to one of the doctors here – are you at Erian’s clinic?”

They frown a little. “Nah, I didn’t like all the gatekeepery stuff he was doing, so I found another provider who relied on informed consent – they said I had to pick another species first to act as a base for the additional shapeshifter meds. Kinda feeling a little cheated now, even if I’ve been enjoying becoming a slime.”

“But you’re at a proper doctor, right?” I say. “Not just… some person who figured out how to make this stuff? In hindsight, I probably should’ve done that – mine is very hands-off, and the whole thing is super experimental – kinda realising that now seeing other people’s stories online. But they’re a shifter too, they’re the only one who does this specific thing, and I was desperate, y’know?”

They nod. “Yeah, proper doctor ’nd all, but I totally get the desperation, fuck, if I’d known I could get straight on shapeshifter stuff I quite possibly woulda gone for that.” They pause for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Although, if it’s shady like ya say, I’m not sure how willing I’d be to trust it, at least the people I’m going through seem safe and all, even if they are kinda delaying/shortchanging me a bit.” Another pause, before, “You sure it’s safe ’nd all? I mean, it seems to be working for you, but,” they shrug, “there’s enough shit we have to deal with without our meds biting us in the ass too.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “that’s it, it is working, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. But my provider’s really secretive – doesn’t want anyone else figuring out the formula. And I’ve hardly had any support, only vaguely know what to expect at each stage, pretty sure they’re using a false name… Actually that does sound pretty bad when I say it. But it’s working, right? And,” gesturing around us, “I didn’t believe this place existed.”

“Does seem very shady, definitely,” they say. “I’ve been having checkups every six months, actually due my third soon. I’d be careful, as I said, don’t want this to bite ya in the ass. That being said, definitely seems like it’s working.” They gesture at my third arm. “Can’t wait to be able to do more altering of my shape, but I need more human parts to get converted.” They point at their chest. “Still got ribs and stuff under my clothes, which sucks, but given how much my stomach melting hurt, I’m worried about how my spine going’s gonna feel, so for once, slowly is actually preferable.”

I wince a bit. “Ooh, that sounds painful. But, yeah, same here,” I say, remembering how overwhelmed by phantom body parts I was last time I was in the city. “Human’s still my default, and I can’t hold big changes for long yet.” I let my third arm dissolve back into my body – it’s starting to get uncomfortable already. “I’m Callie, by the way. She/her.”

“Oh, right, introductions.” They chuckle awkwardly. “I’m Sandy, she/they, nice ta meet ya Callie.” She extends a claw. “I don’t know how much overlap it’ll have, but you’re also kinda gooey, so maybe it’ll help, but I’ve found if you practice taking and holding forms, eventually it becomes like muscle memory, even if I’m running out of muscles, but you can eventually just kinda take and hold stuff easily.” They gesture to their talons and claws. “Been working on these for a bit now, and now they’re second nature.” They quickly shift between a claw and a human hand, her slime suddenly becoming more fluid, before effortlessly switching back.

I’m envious, I can’t deny it – but it’s not the hopeless envy I would have felt before. Now it’s more like anticipation, knowing that soon I’ll be able to do that too.

“Small changes are getting to be easy like that,” I say. “But,” and I hold up my own hand, “it’s still all bones in here.” And then, with a grin, “Can’t wait to try wings though.” I look up at the orbs floating overhead. “I really want to fly – been dreaming about that for years.”

“Gods yes, I can’t wait to have wings.” She follows my gaze up. “Being able to fly up there would be wonderful…” She trails off wistfully. “Just the freedom to soar up in the air, seems just perfect.”

I try to form wings – not for the first time – but I just don’t have enough goo yet, and of course my clothes are in the way. “I’d have to cut holes in this first though,” I say, tapping my T-shirt.

Sandy smiles. “Yeah, I’ve started cutting tail holes in my clothes, now I can actually have one, even if it is only a small one, not looking forward to all the measuring it’ll take for wings. Although I am vaguely aware there are some shops in the city that are actually trying to cater to those of us with… less human physiology. Haven’t had a chance to check them out yet, but might be something to look into.”

“Oh, I will. Actually, that reminds me! Look at this.” I take out my shapeshifter license and show them. “Can you believe we have to have a license?!” And then I add, “But it’s kinda nice seeing it on something official.” I’m feeling a lot better about it than when I filled in the forms – seeing it actually written down, what I am, is making me smile.

Their eyes widen. “Oh? What’s that?” She leans in to get a better look. “‘Provisional Shapeshifter License’? Huh, didn’t know that was a thing. But wait, yeah, why do you need a license, isn’t it just something you do?”

“They think we’re dangerous or something.” I shrug. “I guess we could be if we wanted to. But that’s not going to happen with me, I don’t want power or… any of that. This is just for me.”

Sandy nods. “Yeah, exactly, I don’t want shapeshifting – when I get there – for power, I just want to, well, be whatever, and ultimately me. People get so up in arms about it for no reason.”

“Familiar feeling,” I say. I’m thinking, of course, about being trans back home. “But we’ve got all the others like us, and that’s… something. People who get it.”

“Mmm.” They nod. “It’s nice to have others like us, this whole conversation’s been wonderful, well except for learning that I might’ve been shafted by my supplier. But yeah, it’s been nice meeting other people going through all this stuff and making friends through it all, and it’s been especially nice to meet another shapeshifter… even if I’m not quite there yet, but like, you get it, is the point.”

We talk a while longer, sharing old dreams of shapeshifting, wandering through the plaza and pointing out things we’ve never seen before. Then, at last, it’s time for me to go, if I want to catch the bus home. We agree to keep in touch, and we hug – and I do my best to form two extra arms for that, though it’s still almost the limit of what I can do. We wave goodbye, and I head home smiling. New city, new world, new friend.

First | Previous | Next

This chapter is a collaboration with @sandyca5tle – whose Slime HRT was one of the stories that inspired me to start writing this in the first place – and takes place between the 14 month and 18 month chapters of Slime HRT. Go read it, it’s goo-d! Also featuring the Hyper Light Festival created by @nuggetofthesea.

And here’s how the provisional shapeshifter license looks, using the template from Slime HRT 25 months. The fields are explained fully over there, but briefly, the letters on the bottom row show what you can do now, with the letters in brackets showing what you’ll be able to do at the end of transition.

And now that we’re approaching the one-year mark, more changes are on the way – coming soon, in Part 9: Hunger!

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added):

@ask-de-writer @avery-victoria-winterlight @botgirl-lilith @dierotenixe @leahnardo-da-veggie

@lunadook @mint-and-authoress @noizepushr @reliableslimegal @sandyca5tle

@saros-system @scrubbinn @the-gender-fae @theriomythic-lesbian @void-botanist

@wuwojiti @zzzestyy

[kasagia]

Can you give us a little sneak peak for the next part

My twodear anonymous and @hanadays1234, thank you so much! 😊🖤🩵

Yes, I can. And since I wrote all my exams, I only focus on writing. 🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵🖤🩵

Nope 🤭🙈 🩵🖤🖤🩵

24.05 Friday or 27.05 Monday. (I have nothing written except what I will give you right now)

Also, who binge watched Bridgerton season 3 and now get inspiration for the new series (for Feyd, I showed you once) instead on focus on the Right Hand? 🤡🙈

Anyway... sneak peak:

Feyd rarely felt pain he didn't like. The years spent on Giedi Prime—or rather, years of enduring his uncle's methods of making him a true Harkonnen, his worthy successor—made Feyd love pain. He found pleasure in it—something he had to learn if he wanted to survive.

But it didn't bring him any satisfaction or pleasure when you pierced his chest with one of his swords. He feels pure pain. Anger, betrayal, and hurt.

He hates the way he falls limply to his knees in front of you. He hates that he still looks at you like you're a saint. He hates that he hopes you'll at least look him in the eyes, as if that would bring him some kind of salvation. He hates how lost he feels now and how he's slowly losing awareness of his surroundings. He hates that even though you stabbed him, all he can do is stare at you, clinging to the sight of you more than to his life.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N."

He feels you unhook your poisoned dagger from his arm. Feyd thinks you're doing it to finish him off. Poetically kill him with the weapon he gave you. He closes his eyes and waits for the final stab or throat slit. But nothing like that happens. He doesn't have the strength to turn around and see exactly what you're doing, but your words alone are enough for him to imagine the scene that is happening behind him.

"I may not be a Harkonnen, but I've picked up a few of their habits. If you want an agreement between us, show me your hand." After your words, he can hear a hiss from Atreides when you plunge the dagger into your joined hands, piercing them both through.

Feyd would have laughed mockingly if he hadn't spent all his energy on breathing slowly. He remembered explaining to you how contracts, such as arranged marriages, were sealed on Giedi Prime. The Harkonnens shook hands and pierced them with swords, thus signing a blood pact. This also applied to marriages and other such things. Blood bound them stronger than any words or signatures on paper. He cursed himself for the fact that, seeing your scared face at his words, he withdrew from this idea and decided to make a verbal agreement between you. He should be the one to bind you with his blood, not Atreides.

The steel in his body rubs against his lower ribs, but it does not damage any major organs. He tries to keep the sword in the exact same position you stuck it in, but he feels like he's going to faint from all the pain, the blood, and the fear for you that he feels now.

You made him so weak that even after you stabbed him, all he could think about was your safety and your well-being. Every shaky breath he took, every slow beat of his heart as he fought to stay conscious—it was all for you.

He just hoped like hell that you weren't lying a few moments ago, that this would all turn out to be just one of your games, and that you would soon end Atreides' life. But it's not like that.

"Let this blood be a symbol of our union." Your sweet, dangerous whisper reaches Feyd's ears.

He's raging with powerlessness and anger. That Atreides dog didn't deserve to mix his blood with yours. Only Feyd should be able to do this. Only his black blood should merge with your crimson, staining your joined hands as you swore allegiance to each other. His heart hurts more than the wound you gave him as he imagine how you and this desert rat are now echanging each other's blood.

If he hadn't been placed in such a vulnerable state by you, he would have ripped Atreides' heart out with his bare hands for daring to mix his blood with yours. A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of Atreides connecting with you in yet another way. A way Feyd was robbed too many times.

He tries to get up, but he doesn't have enough strength. All he can do is place his hands on the floor, trying to take the weight off his torso. The blade scratching his flesh bothers him much less than the fact that Atreides has the nerve to touch you or that you're blatantly ignoring him while playing whatever game you're playing right now.

"Leave him to me. I want… to repay him for all these years of fulfilling his wishes."

(...)

[soaps-mohawk]

Okay so in case you were wondering why I turned anon off, and won't be turning it on probably for a while, I'm here to deliver receipts.

This is a long post so I'm putting it under a cut

There's been a few cases over the last week or so of people purposefully using other anon's emojis to send asks (not all of these were questionable or malicious. If you accidentally used one already claimed, this post is NOT about you.)

It was brought to my attention by a few anons that asks were sent that were not them. A lot of these asks weren't malicious or harassing which makes it hard to tell. As is the nature of anonymous asks, I cannot tell who sends them without some kind of sign-off or emoji, hence the use of emojis. While I believe not all of these were on purpose (see above), some of them absolutely were.

This started before the debacle about a week or so ago with ♾️ anon (which it has been confirmed that the person who asked to use that emoji was not behind the anonymous asks using that emoji) harassing me about not answering their ask. I took a screenshot of said ask, and this was what they were harassing me about

When I had anon on, I'd get a lot of asks. Sometimes as many as 20 or 30 a day. I am one person running this blog, and it takes me a while to get through asks sometimes. Most people who have ever sent asks to popular blogs (which still pains me to call this one popular) knows it can take sometimes days to get an answer because we get a lot of asks constantly.

Honestly, I wasn't going to answer this one anyway because...it's odd. Especially the timing because this was sent after chapter 29 was posted, right before chapter 30, in which neither chapter had smut in it. I know some people really love angst though so I didn't want to yuck anyone's yum, it was just very odd.

So, as I do, I start with the bottom of the inbox where the oldest asks are and I work my way up to the most recent (there are exceptions in the case of asks related to a post I just made, or asks that are easy to answer with just a few words or a gif versus a long thought out answer).

Anyway about a day after that ask was sent, I got others from that anon asking if I got their ask.

Then I made a post mid-breakdown about life sucking and the horrible position I was in (See here)

They then sent in THIS ask and got publicly shamed as they should.

A day or so goes by and I start to get a flood of asks in my inbox. Some are normal-ish, kind of odd but I'm used to kind of odd questions.

Then I start to get these

Obviously those aren't those anons. Figured that out pretty fast after a few hours of them sitting in my inbox.

Soon after I get this ask as I was getting ready for a job interview and went off because I was already stressed as fuck about the interview.

And then of course after I posted that I get this in response which I took a screenshot of and answered before blocking that anon.

And as I kind of had an inkling about, those asks above as well as several other strange ones in my inbox disappeared after blocking that anon. So it had been one perpetrator behind those at least (which was not the person who claimed that emoji that was a big misunderstanding on my part and that has since been solved and resolved.)

BUT that is not the end of this story.

As the weekend happens and the chapter is posted, I continue to get asks sent in by anons with emojis and continue to get messages from either anons saying they are that emoji anon and they didn't send that in, or those anons privately messaging me and saying they didn't send those in.

So we were having several cases of emoji stealing.

I also continue to get questionable, downright harassing asks, including these two.

That last one is what broke the camel's back and what made me turn anon off. I don't know if I'm the only one getting anons like this or if this is some new fart anon trend or what, but...look. I'm all for getting horny in my inbox. But things like this?? These kinds of things border on sexual harassment and honestly, they made me feel gross. I literally felt gross after reading those.

I don't mind being told a change of panties was necessary after smut chapters but after an angst chapter?? The timing of it was what made me suspicious. If they had sent that about three chapters ago I might not have looked twice at it.

You wanna tell me you had to pull out the willy stick for a chapter, cool. Just don't tell me what hole it was in and how long. I don't need to know that much detail. You wanna send that about fictional characters?? That's what we're here for. But I don't need to know that about YOU. I have boundaries and I'm going to add this to my rules list.

These asks definitely felt like someone very immature (and likely underage) sent them which makes me feel more disgusted about it.

I blocked that anon and the ones above. I just got pushed over the edge by people not being respectful and KNOWINGLY using others emojis making me not able to trust that an anon is who they claimed to be. Between that and the harassing asks above (which were just a select few) I decided to turn anon off indefinitely. Sorry to all my anons who aren't comfortable coming off anon but I just can't do it anymore. If you previously were an anon and are comfortable sending asks, you can still use your emoji. I don't mind that at all.

So yeah, that's the long story of why I turned anon off, and the receipts of the disgusting harassing asks I was getting. Hopefully having anon off indefinitely will make those sickos grow bored of waiting and force them to reevaluate their lives or mature enough to realize they were being stupid (cautiously hopeful but probably not.) If the internet has taught us anything, it's that trolls are gonna troll into adulthood and they will never reach the point of maturity to realize they're just being stupid. That's why they live in their parents' basement alone with no friends.

[silverfox579]

Repeated time loop/'stuck in a game' fic

This is what happens when you get obsessed with shipping literally every single character but can't bring yourself to abandon an overarching plot

Thinking of seven gamers who play Twisted Wonderland one day wake up as side characters in the game. As in, the faceless/nameless 'Student A' and 'Student B' that we see in TWST. Except the Twisted Wonderland that they've been playing and the TWST game that we know are different. And the world they end up is different from either of those two --> as in, there are Phantoms roaming campus for some reason, and they will chase and kill you, horror movie style.

The Mob Gang all have different personalities, but they share a serious obsession with Twisted Wonderland and whatever dorm they stan the most. They trauma bond and become a ride and die party that always has each other's backs.

But I like to think it's a little funny because like, plot aside, they all have massive crushes/obsessions with their respective dorms, right?But their reasons and ways of showing that affection are all super different.

Like, Diasomnia Mob? She's sweet and shy and will be doing SO MUCH KNITTING for the Diasomnia boys, but they're always anonymous gifts and, like--she'll make a Malleus plushie with all his friends and a felt invitation to the tea party set she makes. But if Lilia were to strike up a casual conversation, vice dormhead checking in on first-year style, she would flat out faint. Her type of crush is the kind that if the object of her affections even talks to her, it's instantly red skin, sweaty hands, body shaking, unable to speak or think coherently, and it's so fucking obvious. A kind of endearing first love...except these are Fae so first = only.

Octavinelle Mob, on the other hand? Most reluctant Octavinelle stan on earth. He will call Azul a scheming bitch to his face and then turn around and buy all Octavinelle-related merch even if he has to mortgage his house to do it. He doesn't want to ever talk to the Octavinelle boys, ever, because he gets all the physical signs of attraction/crushing like the Diasomnia Mob but mentally he would rather die than admit it. Because, like, frankly, these guys are assholes. And he knows it. But he also...can't...stop himself. It's a truly...unfortunate state of events.

Pomefiore Mob is a dungeon-diving sociopath who masquerades as a bookworm when in reality he's got twenty piercings and hunts Phantoms for sport. I sketched out this entire plot because I just wanted to write one scene where the Pomefiore Mob Student (who's laid low this whole time under a bookworm persona) is dragging a Phantom's corpse around the grounds and accidental gets caught by Rook, panics, and UM's away his memories, but Rook is such a freak he immediately notices something's wrong with himself and begins stalker-ing. When Vil realizes there's been this no-name drop-dead gorgeous student in his dorm that's literally been acting a persona this entire time right under his nose? Epel might think it's the best thing since Harveston apples, but Vil is fucking pissed. I imagine it's the satisfaction of finally pinning down the uncontrollable beast known as Pomefiore Mob that sparks their attraction.

Heartslabyul Mob is a rough-spoken protector type who hates violent people but is drawn to the redemption arcs playing out in Deuce and Riddle. He isn't afraid to call people out on their bullshit, but underscoring all of that is someone who will help. I always felt like what the Heartslabyul boys need is a knight---not to save them, but to fight for them. (Slight spoiler, but he himself has emancipated himself before and that is part of what draws him to them: knowing the pain of messy family situations and building something for yourself from the ground up so you can have the haven that your family never gave you.) Man is honestly pretty fearless, which I think is a necessary feature to be able to handle the upper year boys, who struggle with different forms of...if not fear, then social perception/constraints. All the side-stepping the Heartslabyul boys do when their issues are even slightly mentioned in conversation? Heartslabyul Mob is not having it. You can't bullshit him. He cares, and he's willing to sacrifice his relationship with you if it means you'll be for real. The kind of friend we all desperately need, but may not always want/appreciate at the time.

Savanaclaw Mob is a plant nerd who starts out jealous and resentful of Leona who's loved and wanted by the people around him. He's usually really calm and soft-spoken, but his anger runs in the form of a low simmer, until the OB confrontation, where he blows up. When things calm down, post-OB Savanaclaw Mob will have to examine why he actually resents Leona, which is mainly trust issues...(honestly, the way Leona toyed with Ruggie's faith still haunts me every now and then). The dorm's blind faith put too much pressure on Leona (more pariah than person) but Savanaclaw Mob made it clear how much he dislikes Leona yet he still defends him so that's how you know it's the real deal. Isn't really the badmouthing type, but will unflinchingly discuss Leona's faults -> but if Leona gets his act together, he would be his staunchest supporter, he's honestly kind of prime minister coded. Kind of like an anguished/conflicted admirer who resents the fact that Leona's stubbornly struggling alone when there's still so much he can do. He's so obsessed with the title of king that he can't even see that he's already a king in everything but name...

Scarabia Mob who's so chill every bit of chaos slides off her back like water. Drops hints that make Jamil spiral thinking someone's actually caught on, and then makes him even more conflicted by snagging Kamil by the collar every now and then like a tiger herding cubs. Thinking in my head of like: Jamil screaming at her in his OB form; she's just an outsider; why is she even doing this; and then she just smiles and says because you're my favorite. (This is the dude that is always doing small things for you that you think might have a crush on you but is then revealed to have been in love with you for the past fifteen years after you met once in middle school.)

And of course my favorite Ignihyde Mob who I've named Nekomimi-senpai because she's literally a catgirl. Every goddamn anime stereotype of a sleepy cat girl with no boundaries and no shame. Will take random naps in Idia's room, steal his clothes, and then fuck off to go fight Phantoms in the night without indication that anything happened in the morning. I wanted a character who can step into that zone of closeness first because it'll bring out Idia's real face, which has been deeply shaped by the trauma of losing Ortho. I feel like he's the kind of guy who, if you carve out a space in his life, he will do anything to make sure that space does not become (another) hole. He would have monitors. Tracking chips. Security camera footage from campus tracking Ignihyde Mob's movements. But he would also adamantly not confront her about it. Just do a bunch of stuff in the background. (If she's his stray cat, then he's the owner whose job is not to ask the cat what it's been doing outside all day, but just welcome it home without question). They'll have the closest outward relationship first, but obviously, it's a ship that's doomed to sink unless it gets some maintenance...but that prob won't happen til post-OP :D

Tl;dr, what to do when you and the six other top leaderboard players of a niche RPG one day wake up as side characters in your favorite in-game dorms, except the protagonist is missing, your oshis are literally right in front of you, and there are weird-ass monsters everywhere?

(idk i just wanted analog horror, yandere romance, dorm obsession, and hinky dinky protagonist plot stuff all in one fic)

Anyway, is this...interesting to people? Like, idk whether people vibe with my brainrot. I'm still gonna write it either way, but I just wanna test waters here...I've been obsessing over it for weeks now so I really just want some feedback T-T

[redfacedpalindrome]

This season, everytime I am disappointed at ferrari's performance, i think back to the one statement Charles made during testing or sometime during that, about how it would be a shame if they don't get one of the titles from WDC or WCC. Idk if he was optimistic about the car, or just said it out of determination.

It's only been 3 races, and the season is long, lots of things can change, but we are close to neither now despite the hardwork Charles puts in and it hurts. (He did his best and only got P4 in Japan).

hi! sorry it took me so long to get to this ask, i'm absolutely bowled over cos i'm about to graduate and i have work coming out of my ears!!

i think we all kind of shared charles's sentiment. we came so close to a constructor's championship last season, we could practically taste it - and now, we were going into another season of the same regulations with the greatest driver of all time on our team.

i will say - i think he made his statement a little out of determination. i think a lot of the signs from charles that we were interpreting were based on car performance may have been because he came off the tail end of one of if not the most successful season he's had in formula one where he won both his home races.

like i was saying, i think we just have to let go of the pre-season. the hype, the crazy high expectations, they're not limited to this year's pre-season (i think the tifosi are just naturally like this) but their narrative certainly didn't help.

i was listening to a podcast yesterday while i was washing dishes (the bane of my life really) where they were discussing that fred vasseur essentially earned extra credit last season for how high ferrari finished. this (2025) is only his third year as team principal, his first with a team that is more fred than mattia. and then (here's where i'm gonna be hellishly wrong and anyone feel free to correct me), they talked about how it took Jean Todt 5 years with the team to really put it in fighting shape and win a title. if ferrari had won the constructor's last season it would have been actually fucking incredible - but it would have honestly lacked completeness.

i know this sucks, and often i am charles first and ferrari second, but for one second bear with me as i go ferrari first – fred is building a new team. he's figuring it out. he doesn't have a lot more of a buffer to fuck around and find out, but as of right now we're still solidly in that buffer. And we should be thrilled that we're in the Fred development zone. hear me out – all fred aims for is equanimity and consistency, the two things that ferrari always lacks and the two things that keep the team from greatness as of right now.

And i genuinely believe that when the right season comes around, charles will be ready, waiting, and just as good as necessary to clinch a title. I do believe that, but it's the thing I can't guarantee. and that hurts.

TL;DR – the real villain in this narrative is honestly ferrari PR cos they made us a little more than delusional. i think shifting the frame of reference for results in the short term just preserves our sanity when remembering that ferrari is now a Project by Fred™ and it's only been in the works for about one year in earnest. and it was a good fucking year for us. I see so much fred hate from the anonymous masses on the internet but anyone who means anything in and around the grid rates him as a team principal. just pls sack and replace our strategy team fred i'm begging and then based on suzuka the whole grid should mass fire its race engineers (except the loml laura mueller).

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Jeff Davis just ruined everything! Everything! Do you know if there's any fix-it fics yet!

AND

Anonymous asked:

Love your page! Can you recommend fix-it fics for the movie?

AND

angelofthetrenchcoats asked:

hii

do you know if there are any tw movie sterek fix it fics yet?

thanks❤️😂

“Take me back.” by Theo4thestars

(1/? I 979 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles finds out Derek is dead. He’s hurt. He finds out Allison is alive. He’s never been more happy. He’s conflicted so he goes home.

we're all burning. by unholyturtle

(2/2 I 2,400 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles came home and Derek did not die.

Broken Things (It's Complicated) by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

(1/1 I 3,880 I General I Sterek)

It's been fifteen years, and Derek still has feelings about that Jeep.

Crawling back to you by ads1008

(1/1 I 10,901 I General i Sterek)

Stiles gets a call from Eli that Derek has died. He runs home in time to be at the funeral where Eli barrels into him crying shaking like he is five years old again after a nightmare. Stiles holds him tight looking up at the pack he walked away from years ago. The ones that hurt him and his family too many times to count. His eyes landed on Scott, who looked sad and sorry. Stiles didn’t care for his pity. Rage boiled in him at just seeing his ex-best friend. The man that almost ruined everything for them 15 years ago but it looks like he already did. Stiles pulled Eli away, handing him off to his dad. Stiles walked over landing a hard punch to Scott’s temple.

“What did you do?” Stiles shouted.

Stiles knew he had to bring back the love of his life and the father of his son, with the help of Lydia and the rest of the gang. Stiles must fight one last demon of his own to bring Derek back. By doing so, secrets of the past fifteen years will be told. His young son, Eli, will know more about himself and his parents than either Stiles or Derek was ready to share.

We'll Take On The World by lookingforatardis

(1/1 I 26,000 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek grew quiet, eyes searching Stiles’ face. “It’s called True Mates.” “Do you think we…” he started, but cut himself off. He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer. “Maybe,” Derek nodded anyway, eyes cast down. Their hands were intertwined on the bed where they sat, and Stiles traced Derek’s knuckles with his fingers. “How would we know?” Derek sighed and leaned over to rest his head against Stiles’ shoulder. “There’s always a sign."

No More Martyr Bullsh*&t by Arieanna

(12/12 I 35,230 I Mature I Sterek)

Thank god someone had the brains to call him. Now he was running through the preserve to that stupid stump, hoping that he gets there before it's too late and he loses his reason for living.

"X" marks the spot by mmspring

(3/3 I 39,796 I General I Sterek)

"Please, bring my nephew back" Stiles stays silent for a second, before clearing his throat and speaking again. "Do you remember that time when you asked if someone in this town could stay dead?" he asks, and waits for the other man to confirm that he, indeed, remembers. "Well, let's hope the answer is still no".

Or

Stiles has to save the day once again, but he doesn't want the recognition for it.

Nothing Ever Stays Dead by Violet_Michelle

(22/22 I 79,189 I Mature I Sterek)

Following Derek’s death, Eli took the Jeep and went to find the only person he thought could get his dad back.

Yoda Said It Best by OKDeanna, thePurebloodPrat

(21/21 I 99,128 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale knows he as a problem. Contrary to what some might believe, he isn’t stupid. He knows the Jeep has meaning to him, real meaning. The kind of meaning that he doesn’t want to think about, let alone stop and have to analyze. Except… his son keeps pushing him about it, prodding at him, and then before Derek knows it, Stiles is back in Beacon Hills, driving the one thing in the world Derek wishes he never had to set eyes on again. If Derek isn’t careful, he could open himself up to a fall, and that would affect more than just his son but also his own traitorous heart. Because with Stiles back, Derek finally has hope again, and its making him want the things he knows better than to ever crave: a home, a future, a life—love.

One-Sentence Premise: To find the happiness they both crave, a lonely stressed-out single dad and a disillusioned FBI agent must confront their shared past and accept the feelings that have always existed between them.