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starredblood · 4 months ago

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CHIHIRO

PART ONE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: as of recently, you can’t help but to feel useless—but you’re determined to change that.

wc. 4k

warnings: bullying towards reader

(chihiro masterlist)

(spring, 2021)

“Azalea, fox glove, oleander, wisteria, lily of the valley, belladonna, hemlock…Azalea, fox glove, oleander, lily of the valley…hemlock.”

It’s easy to overlook small everyday things like calling on the phone or walking to the corner store. The only time people do think long and hard about it is when they lose them. Now, they’re stuck in a limbo of wishing to go back to a time when they were able to do the small things and also hoping that one day in the future they’ll be able to do it again. Past and future—rarely does anyone think about the present. Not in this society. However, you are an exception to that rule because you are a librarian after all. And you know that in a library time is always stuck once you enter inside.

With the school kids still in the learning facilities and the adults still in their nine to five’s, you had a relaxing noon to sit in your desk and jot now notes. Two pages worth of notes. But writing with your non-dominant is still a struggle. Every now and then, you had to scratch your hand by sticking the pen inside of your cast.

Your mind was starting to get all fuzzy again from staring at the words in front of you, so you quickly shut your book before you feel another excruciating headache come back.

Shutting your eyes, you start murmuring the words to yourself instead, “…Azalea, fox glove, oleander, lily of the valley—“

A gasp escapes your mouth and you open your eyes back up, staring wide eyed at the stack of books suddenly piled up in front of you. Unknowingly, a small scowl forms on your lips. You can already feel her dark and intense nature without having to look up.

“Are you returning these?” you ask the girl, no enthusiasm in your tone.

The girl—tall, slender, small soft face yet eyes sharp like a fierce fox, unwavering plump lips, and short unruly dark hair. The epitome of mystic and obscure. You didn’t like it one thing.

She doesn’t move a single facial muscle as her eyes shoot daggers straight through your soul. Last month when she first came by, her murky gaze sent shivers down your spine—now it vexes you.

Of course, you were taught to be gracious and considerate for strangers, who’s lives you have no idea of. But she could at least say hello and thank you like everyone else.

You clear your throat, take her library card and the books, scanning each of them for return.

“All right, you’re all done—“ a smaller fleeting gasp escapes you once more when she drops three books she wants to borrow. Still not uttering a word. You try masking the dirty look you want to give her by gnashing your teeth instead. “Okay. Now you are all set.” you say flatly and slide the books across the table.

She doesn’t thank nor acknowledge you as she picks up the books and presses them to her chest. Like clockwork, she goes to her usual dark corner of the library (still at eyes view from where you’re currently sitting, unfortunately) and starts reading one of them. You flare your nostrils in annoyance before going back to focusing on your last dutiful tasks of your shift—organize the library materials.

You take the cart that’s full of returned books and start making your way to the different sections of the library.

What you like about libraries is that they stay the same no matter what. But a lot has changed these past few months and you still don’t feel ready to face the change—you had adulthood to thank for that. It took you much longer to find the proper section for the books as of recently. You often mistake going up the stairs of this dark academia building to put a book away when the book was meant to be put downstairs the whole time.

“History section is on the opposite side.”

You freeze up. That was a voice you never heard before, completely throwing you off. You wonder if you heard right. When you turn around, you see her—although her eyes were heavily trained on a book, you know her words were directed towards you. You start blushing red. If she noticed you were struggling to do such a simple task, did everyone else as well? It’s sad…A librarian who can’t organize things properly that’s unheard for but that’s your reality. You feel so useless at this moment.

“I don’t need your pity.” you whisper at her and tightly clutch onto the book you’re currently finding its place for. Thinking she didn’t hear you, you shamefully whisk toward the direction she told you.

“What did you say?” you hear her low tone voice say to your back.

You pause again and look at her from the corner of your eyes. “I’m not repeating myself. Just mind your own.”

By the time you finish putting everything back, you’re disoriented from all the twists and turns you had to take and you stayed an extra thirty minutes longer than scheduled. And your boss just recently gave you a lecture about staying longer than you’re allowed to, so in a panic you rush to put the empty cart in the back office and clock out for the day.

In the break room, you hear three sets of giggles from your coworkers all gathered around the table for their lunches. You head to your locker to gather your belongings. And when you toss your purse over your shoulder you send Dasom, the new hire who was your temporary replacement while you were away, a quiet skeptical glance that she reciprocates back. You don’t like her either—her round eyes lush of innocence when you know she’s the one talking bad about your character. She doesn’t say anything, but you see her lips curl upwards into a nasty smirk. You huff before exiting the break room and out the library.

“She’s so fucking incompetent.” Dasom says to her other coworker Haeun, grabbing the books you incorrectly put away and place them in the actual correct spot. Now that you’re long gone, it’s free rein for her to speak her mind. “I don’t know why she got her position back…Now that she’s back this place has been flipped upside down. I hope the boss notices soon so I can get my position back. Then everything will go back to normal again.”

“Well, let’s make sure she does.” Haeun smirks and takes the books Dasom was ready to rearrange and place them back the way you put them—incorrectly.

“Good thinking!”

While the two girls were plotting against you, someone across the other side of the tall bookshelves overhead their entire conversation. And little do the girls know, this person is not happy about what they heard.

“You’re thirty minutes late.”

You let out a groan when your hear your mom’s voice the second you step inside your family home. Slipping off your shoes, you head straight over to your childhood bedroom which is only a temporary stay until further notice. However, you miss living in your apartment—alone. Alone from your mom.

“I had to stay longer.” you mumble when you hear your mom’s footsteps trail behind you.

“You walked home, didn’t you?” you mom says, and although you aren’t certain you just know she has her arms crossed.

So, what if you did get a little bit lost on the way here? It’s better than taking a cab or any vehicle for that matter.

“So, what’s the problem? I like walking now.” you state plainly and open the door to your bedroom.

You toss your bag on the pink beanbag chair you bought in your middle school years before flipping face first on your twin size mattress. For a couple of seconds, you breathe in the sweet relish of relaxation before bracing yourself to hear the earful your mom is about to give you.

“You shouldn’t stress your body—not when you’re getting your cast taken off soon. Thank god.” she says, leaning on the doorframe.

“I know, I know.”

She sighs watching the messy state of your room. All the band posters from nearly a decade ago, the dusty figurines scattered around your old study desk. You feel her weight lower the mattress and her hand run through your hair. Closing your eyes, you try lulling yourself to the touch.

“How was work?” she asks.

“The same as always.” you mumble, almost inaudible. But she’s your mother, she can understand any gibberish you throw at her. “Except some girl—“

“What girl?” she interrupts, suddenly sounding defensive. You open your eyes this time, eyeing her from the comfort of your head resting on your flat pillow.

“I don’t know, mom. She’s been coming in everyday lately being all rude and stuff. Today she almost hit my injured arm with her mountain of books.”

“Tall, short black hair, angry face?”

This time you raise your head up.

It was bizarre how quickly and accurately she got the girl right. “Y—Yeah…?” you stammer in shock.

“Stay away from her.” she states, demandingly. “She’s a defector—nothing good comes out from them.”

You were about to question her, but like some sort of defense mechanism, she stands up from your bed and starts walking away like she knew you were going to ask something.

If she really was a defector—that explains her level of guardedness. In all honesty, you sympathize defectors more than criminalize them like anyone should. Of course, there’s always the bad apples but it’s not their fault the system set them up to fail. Especially defectors as young as the girl who goes to your library. Your mom is being way too harsh. But you know someone as hard headed as her can’t be swayed to change her mind.

“They’re just people.” you say before she exits your room.

“People who are criminals.” she says, her voice darkening. You internally roll your eyes. “Don’t go to sleep yet. I’ll run you a bath.”

“You don’t have to be so high maintenance with me mom. It’s only my arm.” you say matter-of-factly and stare pitifully at your bandaged arm.

“Don’t disregard your body like that.” your mom retorts, her frown growing deeper and your unfazed expression remaining. “Be grateful it was only your arm.”

“…And my head.” you whisper when she finally leaves.

A week later you had to deal with an immense throbbing headache as soon as you entered the library. It was fortunate that your mom slipped your medications into your bag when you didn’t notice. Although the medications were working, the symptoms of fatigue were starting to enter your body.

What’s worse is that today you had to close the library. And of course the world would align you to close with none other than, Dasom. She seemed just as thrilled as you were when she found out, scowling to herself and pressing her lips into a thin line whenever you passed by her. Ever since you met her all you do is try ignoring her—it was the only way. After all, her parents are large contributors to this library’s donations.

Luckily, it’s finals week so the library was swamped with students all day—which means you didn’t have to see Dasom as much tonight. By the time you finish researching and ordering more books for the library, the number of people started do dwindle out.

When you step outside the employee office room, you notice a small kid sitting by himself yet surrounded by older teens and young adults engrossed in their own work. His hands were pressed on the sides of his temples as he tried reading off of his textbook. By the furrowing of his eyebrows, you could tell he was struggling. You’ve been a librarian long enough to see the signs of a child struggling with reading. So, you head over to the boy—forcing your tired body to work with you just a little bit longer.

“Hi, there.” you gently greet him and pull up a chair to sit beside him. His eyes widen in fear for some odd reason when he looks up at you. However, you think it might be nerves getting to him. “Doing homework?”

“Uh…” he trails off and starts glancing around the library as if he was looking for signs of trouble. When he doesn’t see any, he gulps and timidly stares down at his textbook. “Yes.”

“School gets harder every year, doesn’t it?” you say to him with a gentle smile.

He curtly nods and sends you a fleeting glance. “Yes. I—I’m still not good at…”

“At what?”

“School.” he says even quieter. You barely heard him.

”That’s nothing to be ashamed about. School was hard for me too.”

“Can you help me?” he asks hesitantly. Your smile curls more upward when he finally glances up at you, doe-eyed.

“Of course.” you nod. “What’s your name by the way?”

“It’s, Cheol.”

“Okay, Cheol, tell me what you need help with.”

For an hour straight you’re sitting beside Cheol, helping him enunciate difficult words and decipher long sentences in his textbook until a tall lanky figure comes up from behind and pulls Cheol’s seat back.

“There you are.” It’s the girl. Your eyebrows knit together and you look at them back and forth. Were they related? Your heart sinks at the possibility that Cheol is also a defector. Now, you really want to help him more than ever.

The boy winces. “Sorry, noona I just—“

“What did I tell you?” she hisses, grabbing his textbook and stuffing it in his bag in a hurry. You observe all this—Cheol’s scarlet face and her avoiding your presence the whole time. She slings his school bag over her shoulders and points with her head to the entry door. “Come on, we have to go.”

You take one good look at Cheol and know that this isn’t right—he needs this help. So, you rise from your seat which definitely caught her attention. She starts eyeing you up and down, eyes obscure as ever. “I was in the middle of helping him with his homework.” you state with a tone of courage.

She stares into your eyes a second longer than you were comfortable with. Her dark expression faltered into something that you couldn’t decipher before hardening again. She scoffs, “He can finish it later.”

“No, he can’t actually. He’s struggling with reading I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, we don’t need it.” she retorts, her jaw clenching. Cheol is looking back and forth, clearly in distress.

Not wishing to cause a further scene you take a deep breath in and nod. “Fine if not from me then...at least be attentive of him.”

And with that, she didn’t say anything—didn’t react at all and brushes past you. Cheol looks back at you while they are walking out the door and bashfully waves to you. You wave back but found it was a task trying to hide the frown on your lips, which he clearly noticed.

“So rude.” you mutter underneath your breath, a jab at Cheol’s sister.

While you and Dasom start cleaning up, the place was just filled with intense silence. But you were too distracted by Cheol’s sister lingering in your head. You wonder if she’ll actually do as you requested and find a way to help him academically.

“Did you tell her to intimidate me last week?”

You blink back to reality and look at Dasom with a deadpan expression. Her nasty look was already making your stomach churn.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, breathily.

She rolls her eyes, stops sweeping, and starts making her way over to you. Your breath hitches when she’s only centimeters close. That’s when she jabs her finger at your forehead with a great force, making you stumble back.

“Quit with this innocent bimbo act you’re trying to make work and maybe I’ll tolerate you a little more. Got it?” she sneers through her teeth. “And don’t go telling your little friend who’s always around about this. She can’t do anything if you suddenly get—fired.”

Your jaw clenches and you refuse to look away from her eyes when she starts back up. From the way she’s smirking malevolently at you—she thinks she has scared you but quite the opposite. Your blood is boiling with silent rage.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

Gut feelings tend to not lie, at least not to you. Because you woke up this lazy Sunday morning with a feeling that your world is going to shift again—and you hate it.

Instead of staying home on your days off like you usually do, you woke up with your back sore from this stiff old mattress. The first thing you hear is your mom turning on the vacuum cleaner and you huff in annoyance. You love her, you truly do but her clinginess is what’ll ultimately be your last straw.

For the past couple of months, you’ve been cooped up in your old childhood bedroom and you’re tired of it. You want to go back to your apartment but your mom is so adamant about you staying here until you’ve fully recovered. But the doctors finally taken off your cast, making you somewhat more ready to tackle on the world by yourself. Your mom won’t be happy to be by herself again but you might just lose it if you stay any longer.

You get ready in a rush before she realizes that you have to be awake by now. You make it to the entrance door without having your mom spot you and put on your comfiest sneakers then quietly exit the house.

The only thing you have in mind for a day like today, where the sky is all blue, is to head to your favorite cafe. You challenge yourself to walk to your destination without the need to pull up the map on your phone.

You have a good feeling about today. So far, you aren’t getting lost.

With a little more pep on your step, you enter inside the cafe that resembles a quaint cottage and greet the worker standing by the register. Before you even open up your mouth to speak, the worker said your order for you—causing you to blush in embarrassment. You are officially promoted as their new regular. After you pay, you wait off to the side for your caffeinated iced drink.

When you take a glance around the bustling cafe, you didn’t expect to see what you just saw. You blink a couple of times to make sure it was Cheol’s sister actually sitting by the window, staring right at you. Her hands were folded with her drink already halfway finished, her posture square and stiff. Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance away the second you made eye contact with her. Your stomach feels funny—you aren’t sure if drinking coffee will be good for you now.

Her gaze must be incandescent because even when you aren’t looking, you can still feel her eyes on you.

You have the urge to confront of about what Dasom told you the other night. Because who else other than her spends time in the library everyday. It had to be her.

When your coffee order is ready you take it and suck a deep breath in. You straighten yourself up when you walk over to her—scorning at the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off you.

“Did you…intimidate my co-worker Dasom the other day?” you say, standing across the other end of the small round table.

She finally blinks, in a very jaded fashion you might add. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she says flatly.

“She said it was you.” you point out, frowning.

Cheol’s sister finally takes her eyes off you and takes a long slow sip of her coffee. She doesn’t make any means to speak further on this. You give up, it’s not worth fussing over. Now that she totally kills your mood, you don’t want to stay in the cafe with her presence lurking. But you don’t know where to go from here—maybe it’s best if you do go home instead.

When you peer out the shop window, the anxiousness you feel starts making your heart beat race. You don’t know how to get back home. So, you look anxiously out the window and start pulling out your phone to check the map application.

“Do you need help getting home?”

Your body tenses, slowly moving your head to face the girl who’s still causally laying back on her chair with her drink in hand. “What?” you hiss, narrowing your eyes at her.

For once, she appears hesitant. “…I heard them say that you—“

“Yeah, you heard something and now you’re going to mind your own business, right?”

“Right…”

You two stare at each other and you can’t look away at the flicker of offense in her eyes when you snapped at her. The guilt you felt, however, was no match for the utter embarrassment of this situation. Twice, that’s how many times she caught you blundering. She probably thinks you’re useless like Dasom and everyone who dares to put up with you.

When you put on the directions to your house you don’t dare to look back at her.

By the time you make it home, the tears that were streaking across your face were starting to dry up. Even if they didn’t, your mom wouldn’t have noticed because she’s sound asleep in the living room couch.

You had enough. You’re tired of being perceived as this useless, dumb person—you weren’t always like this. And you have to prove that again.

When you march to your room, you take one good look at everything you’re taking back at your apartment. It’s time to go back to your place—you’re still paying rent there anyway. Why waste another month not living there?

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

(summer, 2020)

Sae-byeok was getting real festered now.

Cheol’s newfound spot as of recently has become the public library. Although she thinks this is great for him, it was particularly annoying because that means Sae-byeok has to walk to the orphanage to find out he’s not there and walk all the way to the library to fetch him then walk him back to the orphanage. This new routine is killing her after being on her feet all day snatching valuables from people’s pockets.

When the opens the doors to the library, the cool ventilation circulating the vicinity cools her sweaty face. She looks around for a moment and when she finds a small boy curled up on a beanbag chair in the kids section, she knows she’s found him.

It makes her heart full knowing Cheol’s favorite pastime is now reading. Once a timid and reluctant boy, he is now more talkative because he loves to ramble about the new books he’s reading—although he still struggles sometimes his determination will get him far.

Sae-byeok has never been interested in reading, not like him. She found reading boring and she doesn’t have the patience to sit down and imagine the words she’s reading in her head. Besides, she’s too busy nowadays.

“Cheol, we have to go.” she says.

Cheol lowers the book plastered on his face, revealing a pout. “But—“

“No. No buts we have to go back.” she says sternly.

“I hate the orphanage. I like it here better.” he grumbles and shuts his book.

Sae-byeok sighs. Everyday that she isn’t in guardianship of Cheol is another failed day. But she’s getting there…slowly but surely.

“You can come back tomorrow, it’s already getting late.”

Before Cheol can even react, someone starts walking over to them and whoever this person is makes the boy’s face light up. Sae-byeok’s lips start twitching and has to fight the urge not to grimace at you.

You’re the new librarian and like any new person, you’re full of optimism and naivety in regards to your environment. Because of you, Cheol prefers staying cooped up here rather than tag along with his sister. She doesn’t know how you did it—get a shy boy like Cheol to break free from his shell, but you did it. She will never admit it, but some part of her might be jealous. Jealous at how naturally charming and inviting you are.

“Did you like the new book, Cheol?” you ask him, grinning back.

“Yeah!” he beams and leaps up from the chair. “Unfortunate, I have to go now.”

Sae-byeok furrows her eyebrows. Also thanks to you, now the boy is speaking better Korean than her.

“Unfortunately. Don’t forget the ‘ly’, okay?” you advise him.

“Unfortunate…ly.”

When you smile, it’s not an animated smile adults give children to make them feel better. It’s a smile full of youth and enthusiasm. When Sae-byeok first met you, helping Cheol with his homework, she thought you were artificial with your behavior. But the past few weeks, she’s quietly noticed you’re always been your most authentic self. Not many have the capability to be themselves all the time.

“Let’s go.” Sae-byeok mutters and takes Cheol’s things to carry.

Cheol waves you goodbye and when Sae-byeok is about to turn around she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. Jaw clenched, she spins around slowly and looks at you, not even hiding her irritated face anymore.

“What?” she sighs at you.

You swiftly pass her a book called Heaven by Mieko Kawakami and Sae-byeok just stares at it, not trying to take it. “I think you’ll find this short read entertaining. It’s a little sad but I think that it will fit with your…fervent personality.”

“What are you trying to say?” she scoffs.

“Just take it and try to read it.” you say exasperatingly, pressing the book to her chest so she has no choice but to curl her fingers around it and clutch it. Sae-byeok’s mouth slackens, she didn’t expect you to be so straightforward. “If you can’t find yourself enjoying it then just give it back and I won’t bother you with this again. But if you do like it then I suggest getting a library card with us.” you flash her a small smile and wish Cheol a goodnight before walking away.

You left Sae-byeok standing here dumbfounded. Cheol concerningly glances up at his sister’s strange behavior.

She peers down at the book and scowls. Sae-byeok reading? That’s like finding a fish on land.

🏷️: @lyzem @monkey4lifer @tlouloser @bitchybananaflower @yenyu1s @marfe816 @gummyoonji @peelover25 @saebyeokbliss @knfthxv @we1rdth0ughts @monroesturnns @wiltingconquest @noaanotfound

#kang sae byeok #kang sae byeok x reader #squid game #squid game fanfic #fanfic #kang sae byeok squid game #kang sae byeok x fem!reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #kang saebyeok #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok #saebyeok #squid game x reader

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eriace · 1 month ago

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the art of improvisation ; aquamarine hoshino

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which, aquamarine hoshino and l/n y/n, an actress known for improvising, are told to write their own scene— but the lines they create feel a little too real. ↷ aqumarine hoshino ; oshi no ko

THE FIRST TIME Hoshino Aqua met the actress known as the queen of ad-libs, L/n Y/n— she was late.

Not dramatically late nor the kind that screams diva…just five minutes past call time, slipping in with a half-apology and a drink in hand.

Anyway, he didn’t like her.

“You’re late,” Aqua said, flat, detached, already flipping through the script.

She only blinked at him, unhurried, and tilted her head with that same small, infuriating smile. “You’re pretty uptight for someone playing a guy in love.”

He didn’t reply. Just watched as she took her place across the table, crossing one leg over the other as the first script reading began.

Their chemistry on screen was undeniable. On paper, they were magnetic. The director said it was rare—how easily they bounced lines off each other, how the air grew thick every time they stood in the same frame. But off-screen?

It was friction. Fire against ice.

And maybe that was what acting really was— turning tension into desire and pretending the sparks didn’t burn.

Y/n laughed too easily. She cracked jokes when the director was dead serious. She never, ever said her lines the same way twice.

After one rehearsal where she ad-libbed her entire emotional confession scene, Aqua approached her, tone low and clipped.

“Stick to the script.”

Y/n tilted her head at him, curious rather than defensive.

“Why?” she asked. “It was better, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t respond. But she saw the way his eyes lingered on her during the next take. Just a second too long.

A WEEK LATER, the director had had enough.

“You two are impossible,” he groaned, massaging his temple. “I’ve never seen a pair argue so much and still look like they’re in love on camera. Fine. If you can’t agree on how to play the final act, then write the damn scene yourselves.”

This made aqua blink while y/n grinned like a child on the idea.

“One page,” the director said, wagging a finger. “One night. Surprise me.”

They met after hours in the rehearsal room, lights dimmed low, the echo of distant conversations fading behind thick walls. A notebook lay between them. Aqua sat with his back straight, pen in hand. Y/n sat cross-legged, elbow on her knee, watching him like she was watching a puzzle solve itself.

The first lines came easy.

A setting. A room with soft lighting. Two lovers standing inches apart after years of distance. Tension like static in the air, finally breaking.

Aqua’s pen moved quickly, his focus razor-sharp. She watched his brows furrow, his fingers tighten around the pen as he jotted down the dialogue like he was exorcising something he couldn’t say out loud.

“Why do you act like this doesn’t affect you?” she asked quietly, voice just above a whisper.

He didn’t look up. “Because it’s not real.”

“Does it ever feel real?”

The pen stopped.

“Sometimes,” Aqua said, almost inaudible. “With you, sometimes it does.”

Her chest tightened. Something in the air shifted. She picked up the pen and wrote the next line without hesitation.

“I don’t know when I started loving you. I just know I never stopped.”

Aqua stared at it for a long moment. Then he wrote underneath it:

“And I don’t know how to stop pretending I don’t.”

Their hands brushed as they passed the notebook back and forth, fingertips grazing, tension building not just in the pages but between them.

The writing slowed. Not out of confusion, but caution. Every word carried weight now. Every sentence started to feel more like confession than fiction.

“If we do this, we can’t go back.”

“I never wanted to go back.”

Y/n exhaled, shaky. Her voice was softer now, like she was afraid of breaking something.

“You okay?” Aqua asked, finally looking up, eyes were unreadable.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Just... wondering if we’re writing a scene or confessing something.”

“Maybe both.”

THEY PERFORMED IT the next day. Y/n stepped forward under the lights, the notebook’s final scene burned into memory. Her eyes shimmered—not with fake tears, but something far more dangerous.

“I don’t know when I started loving you,” she said, her voice trembling just enough. “I just know I never stopped.”

Aqua’s fists were clenched at his sides. His jaw locked, eyes flickering with something unspoken, “And I don’t know how to stop pretending I don’t.”

Their eyes locked.

“If we do this,” he breathed, “we can’t go back.”

She moved closer. Slow, deliberate. Their foreheads nearly touched.

“I never wanted to go back.”

The silence stretched. Then, without warning— he kissed her.

It wasn’t staged. It wasn’t choreographed. It just happened—quiet, sudden, real.

The director yelled “Cut!” The crew broke into stunned applause.

Aqua pulled away like he’d snapped awake. His eyes were wide. Shocked. Maybe even afraid. Y/n stared at him, lips parted, still tasting him.

“That… wasn’t in the script,” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t. But don’t you love ad-libs?”

Y/n’s face turned red as she watched his back walking away from the scene, “Idiot.”

#oshi no ko #oshi no ko x y/n #oshi no ko x reader #aquamarine hoshino #aqua x reader #aquamarine hoshino x reader #aqua hoshino #aqua hoshino x reader #hoshino aquamarine

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elliesngirl · 7 months ago

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Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: reader crying (emotional drunk), fluff

Part 3: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist!

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Every night seemed to stretch into eternity for Ellie as she counted down the days to Saturday. The anticipation gnawed at her nerves, making even the simplest tasks feel insurmountable. Thursday Night was no different. She walked through the door, dropped her bag onto the floor of her small, organized room, and tried to dive into her usual routine to keep her mind occupied.

Ellie opened her desk drawer, pulling out her stack of neatly organized notebooks. She started with her math homework, scribbling equations and solving problems with a level of precision that Joel would’ve praised if he’d been home. But even with her focus honed on numbers, her mind wandered back to the thought of you—your laugh, your confident smile, and the way your skirt swayed when you walked away from her at your locker.

Shaking her head, Ellie forced herself to move on to her history assignment. The project you two were supposed to work on together loomed in her mind. Should she prepare some of it ahead of time? Would you even care if she did? The thought made her stomach twist, and before she knew it, she was flipping through pages of her textbook, jotting down notes for the upcoming project.

By 6:30 p.m., Ellie had completed her assignments for the week. But she wasn’t done. She pulled out another notebook, this one for biology, and began revising chapters they wouldn’t even cover until the next semester. Her handwriting remained flawless, her notes color-coded as always, but the words on the page blurred together. She groaned, leaning back in her chair. The clock on her desk read 7:00 p.m.

With a sigh, Ellie pushed away from her desk and headed downstairs. The house felt empty without Joel. He was working the night shift again, and the stillness made her feel uneasy. She wandered into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, hoping for a quick snack or something she could throw together for dinner. But the shelves were nearly bare, save for a can of soup and a box of stale crackers.

Frustrated, Ellie checked the fridge, but it wasn’t much better. She closed it with a huff and trudged back upstairs to grab her phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she found Joel’s name and pressed the call button.

It rang three times before his familiar voice answered, warm and reassuring. “Hey, Ellie! What’s up, kiddo?”

“Hey, Joel,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Umm, there’s nothing I can cook for dinner...”

“Oh, right!” Joel said, his tone brightening with realization. “I forgot to tell you, I left some money on the counter. Order yourself something nice, okay?”

Ellie’s heart sank. She hated the idea of interacting with strangers, even if it was just a delivery driver. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

After hanging up, Ellie reluctantly opened the UberEats app. She scrolled through the options, finally settling on a burger and fries from a local diner. At least this way, she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. She could just grab the bag and retreat to her room.

When the food arrived, Ellie stood by the door for a full minute before mustering the courage to open it. She grabbed the bag from the delivery driver with a quiet “thanks” and quickly closed the door. Back upstairs, she set the food on her desk and turned on her laptop, deciding to distract herself with a YouTube video while she ate.

But even as she watched clips of a random gaming stream, her mind drifted back to Saturday. What would you wear? What would you talk about? Would you even like her?

Ellie pushed the thoughts aside and finished her dinner in silence. She cleaned up and spent the rest of the evening scrolling through her phone, occasionally opening your chat and rereading your short messages. By 10 p.m., she was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The house felt too quiet without Joel’s familiar hum downstairs. Ellie wrapped herself in her blanket, trying to push away the ache of loneliness. She wanted to text you, but she didn’t want to seem desperate. Instead, she let herself imagine what Saturday might be like, her nerves and excitement battling each other until sleep finally claimed.

Friday night was a welcome change for Ellie. The days leading up to Saturday had felt agonizingly slow, but now, with only one more sleep separating her from seeing you, her excitement was at an all-time high. The thought of finally being around you again filled her with a nervous energy that bubbled over into her every action.

Joel was home tonight, which only added to the excitement. With him around, the house felt warmer and more alive, and she was glad for the distraction from her nerves. She decided to give herself a break from her relentless studying and headed downstairs, following the sound of Joel humming a tune as he cooked dinner in the kitchen.

“Hey, Joelllllll,” Ellie drawled, her voice tinged with playful charm.

Joel paused, his spatula hovering over the sizzling pan, and turned to her with a knowing smile. “Yeah, kiddo? What do you want?”

Ellie grinned, rocking on her heels. “Can we have a movie night tonight?” she asked, her voice full of hope and excitement.

Joel chuckled, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Of course we can! I assume you wanna watch the Jurassic Park movies again?”

Ellie’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yes!” she cheered, clapping her hands together before dashing into the living room to get everything set up. She fluffed the couch cushions, grabbed a cozy blanket, and sorted through the movie collection until she found the first Jurassic Park.

Meanwhile, Joel plated the dinner—spaghetti and meatballs, a favorite for both of them—and brought it into the living room. “Ready?” he asked, balancing the plates and drinks as Ellie snuggled into the couch with the remote in hand.

“Ready!” she replied enthusiastically, pressing play as Joel set the food down on the coffee table and took his spot beside her.

The familiar sounds of roaring dinosaurs and adventurous theme music filled the room, and for a while, Ellie’s excitement about Saturday took a backseat to the thrill of the movies. They laughed together at the cheesy lines, shouted warnings at the characters who were inevitably about to get eaten, and debated which dinosaur was the coolest (Ellie was firmly Team Velociraptor, while Joel argued for the T-Rex).

As they moved on to the second and then the third movie, the hours ticked by unnoticed. By the time the credits rolled on the final film, the clock on the wall read 2 a.m.

Joel yawned and stretched, his arms extending above his head as he sat back on the couch. “Whew, that’s enough dinosaurs for one night,” he said with a tired chuckle. He glanced over at Ellie, expecting her to do the same, but she didn’t move.

“Ellie?” he called softly, leaning closer.

She didn’t respond. Her head had lolled to the side, her cheek resting against the back of the couch, and her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep.

Joel smiled fondly, shaking his head. “Out like a light,” he murmured. He stood and carefully gathered the empty plates and glasses, setting them in the sink before returning to the living room.

He crouched beside the couch, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Ellie’s face. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, but she didn’t stir.

Not wanting to wake her, Joel carefully scooped her up in his arms. She murmured something incoherent, her head resting against his chest as he carried her upstairs. Her room was just as tidy as always, the bed neatly made and her desk covered in perfectly organized stacks of notebooks and textbooks.

Joel pulled back the blankets and laid her down gently, tucking her in with care. He stepped back for a moment, watching her sleep peacefully. She looked so small and unguarded in that moment, a stark contrast to the driven, determined girl she was during the day.

“Big day tomorrow, huh?” Joel whispered with a smile. He reached down, brushing a hand over her hair before switching off the lamp on her nightstand.

As he closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Ellie had grown into someone special, even if she didn’t always see it. He knew tomorrow meant a lot to her, and he silently hoped it would go as perfectly as she dreamed.

Back in her room, Ellie shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips even in sleep. Saturday was just a few hours away, and even in her dreams, the thought of seeing you made her heart race.

Friday night for you was business as usual—the kind of night that perfectly matched your status as the popular girl. It wasn’t uncommon for weekends to blur into a whirl of parties, late-night adventures, and the kind of social life most people could only dream of. This time, it was at your best friend Olivia’s house. Her parents were conveniently away for the weekend, which meant only one thing: the unofficial party of the year.

The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the house was packed with what felt like the entire senior year. People danced in the living room, spilled onto the patio, and crowded the kitchen. Olivia was in her element, commanding the room like the queen she was, while you stayed nearby, laughing and making rounds to talk to everyone who came up to you. You wore a sleek, black mini-dress paired with heels that clicked confidently against the hardwood floor, effortlessly drawing attention wherever you went.

As the hours passed, the crowd began to thin. One by one, people filtered out, leaving just you, Olivia, Nat, Sara, and Alex sprawled across the living room couches in various states of exhaustion and tipsiness. It was well past midnight, but none of you were ready to call it a night just yet.

"Should we go get ice cream?" Olivia suggested, her voice still buzzing with energy despite the hour.

"At, like, 2 a.m.?" Alex asked, half-laughing.

"Why not?" you chimed in, already grabbing your bag. The suggestion seemed to electrify the group. Within minutes, you were all piled into Olivia's car, driving to the 24-hour ice cream shop on the other side of town.

By the time you arrived, the initial excitement had been replaced with ravenous hunger. The alcohol buzz was wearing off, and you all devoured your ice cream as if it were a five-star meal. You sat at the table, laughing about the night’s chaos, trading stories, and planning the rest of the weekend.

Eventually, you excused yourself to the bathroom, leaving the table and your half-eaten ice cream behind. But when you returned, the booth was empty. At first, you assumed they were messing with you—Olivia especially loved pulling pranks—but when you stepped outside and didn’t see the car anywhere, the truth hit you like a truck.

They had left you.

You stood in the parking lot, blinking in disbelief, your breath hitching as you tried to process what had just happened. Panic and embarrassment clawed at your chest, and the alcohol in your system didn’t help. Before you knew it, hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You tried calling Olivia, then Nat, then Sara, but no one answered. Each voicemail made your stomach sink further, the feeling of being stranded alone in the middle of the night overwhelming you.

In your haze, it didn’t even occur to you to call an Uber or a taxi. Instead, you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram, scrolling mindlessly until one profile caught your eye: Ellie’s.

She wasn’t your first thought. You barely knew her beyond the project you were working on together. But something about her—maybe the way she’d seemed so eager to help earlier that week—made you pause. You didn’t even think twice before sending a flurry of frantic messages.

notyourfriend Hi Please wake up Ellie, I need help Ellie

Ellie groggily woke to the rapid vibration of her phone. She fumbled for it on her bedside table, squinting at the screen. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw your name, and for a moment, she wondered if it was a dream.

Ellie_TheDino What’s up? Is everything okay? notyourfriend Finally Ellie_TheDino y/n, are you okay? notyourfriend Can you call?

Ellie didn’t hesitate, her thumb hovering over the green button before pressing it. The phone barely rang once before you answered, and the sound of your shaky sobs immediately put her on edge.

“Hey! What’s going on? Are you okay?” Ellie’s voice cracked slightly, her usual awkwardness amplified by her nerves.

“I-I was at an ice cream s-shop with my friends, and I went to the b-bathroom, and now they’re g-gone,” you stammered, barely able to get the words out through your crying.

“Okay, okay, just breathe,” Ellie said, trying to steady her own voice as much as yours. “I’ll come get you, alright? Just—just tell me where you are.”

You sniffled, giving her the name of the ice cream shop. Ellie repeated it back to make sure she got it right, already scrambling out of bed. She grabbed Joel’s truck keys from the kitchen counter, scribbled a quick note explaining her absence, and bolted out the door.

It should have been a 10-minute drive, but Ellie’s nerves turned it into five. As she pulled into the parking lot, her eyes immediately landed on you, huddled near the bench outside, arms wrapped around yourself to ward off the cold. She stepped out of the truck, awkwardly adjusting her oversized Spider-Man T-shirt and mismatched sweatpants.

“Y/n?” she called, hesitantly approaching you.

You looked up, your tear-streaked face softening slightly at the sight of her. Without a word, she handed you a gray hoodie she’d grabbed from the backseat. You threw it on without hesitation and pulled her into a hug, clinging to her as if she were your lifeline.

“Thank you so much, AEllie,” you whispered, your voice muffled against her neck.

Ellie’s cheeks turned scarlet, her hands hovering awkwardly before she tentatively wrapped them around you. “Uh, yeah, no problem. Are you—are you okay? Like, besides, uh, this?” she stammered, her words coming out in a rush.

You nodded, pulling back slightly. “Can you just take me home? I can’t go back to them.”

Ellie helped you into the truck, carefully typing your address into Google Maps. As the voice-guided directions filled the silence, she glanced over and saw you had already fallen asleep, your head resting against the window.

As Ellie pulled up to your address, the calm voice of her GPS announced, “You have arrived at your destination.” Her eyes widened as she came face-to-face with an imposing gate, complete with intricate designs and a keypad entry system. The size and elegance of it left her feeling slightly out of her depth.

She sat there for a moment, staring at the gate before glancing over at you. You were slumped against the window, eyes half-closed but still awake. Ellie sighed and gently nudged your shoulder.

“Hey, uh, we’re here… but there’s a gate. What should I do?” Ellie’s voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.

You stirred, groaning softly as you straightened up. “It’s fine. I can walk from here,” you mumbled, already reaching for the door handle.

Ellie’s hand shot out instinctively, her voice coming out louder than she intended. “No!”

You froze, startled, and turned to look at her. “Sorry! I just—um—look, I can’t just leave you here. What if you pass out or something? It’s… uh, it’s not safe,” Ellie stammered, her cheeks turning pink.

You sighed, the exhaustion evident in your voice. “Okay, okay. The gate code is 8018.”

Ellie nodded quickly, hopping out of the truck and making her way to the keypad. Her hands fumbled a bit as she punched in the numbers, the gate groaning to life as it slid open. She scurried back to the driver’s seat, muttering, “Fancy gate, geez…” under her breath, and drove up the long driveway.

Her jaw dropped as your house came into view. It wasn’t just big—it was a mansion, complete with towering columns, immaculate landscaping, and enough windows to light up a small town.

“Holy moly…” Ellie muttered, her nerdy tendencies slipping through. “This is, uh, really nice. Like, billionaire-nice.”

She parked the truck near the front entrance and hurried to your side, opening the door for you. You stepped out unsteadily, leaning against her for support. Ellie awkwardly wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you up the steps to the grand double doors.

Once inside, the sheer size of the entryway left her gawking. “Okay, wow. This place is like—uh—something out of Architectural Digest. Where’s your room?”

You gestured vaguely toward the stairs. “Upstairs… third floor…”

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “Third floor? Are you serious?” She eyed the grand staircase nervously, already dreading the climb.

You shook your head. “Take the lift,” you said, pointing to an elevator tucked discreetly into the wall.

“Oh. Right. Of course, there’s an elevator,” Ellie mumbled to herself, guiding you toward it.

Once inside, Ellie’s eyes darted over the panel. “This thing has more buttons than Joel’s old TV remote…” she muttered, pressing the number three.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a sprawling hallway. You led her down the corridor to your room, which was so large it could have easily been a small apartment. Ellie’s mouth fell open as she took in the plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a bed that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

You collapsed onto the bed without a second thought. Ellie hesitated, then began searching through your drawers until she found a pair of pink tracksuit pants and an oversized white shirt. She handed them to you, her gaze averted.

“Uh, here. You can, uh, change into these,” she said, shuffling awkwardly toward the door. “I’ll just, um, wait out here. Take your time!”

Ellie paced nervously in the hallway, glancing at her phone every so often. She had no idea how long it would take you to change, but she didn’t want to rush you. After about 30 minutes, she heard your voice call out, “Done!”

When she re-entered the room, you were lying in bed, your makeup still smudged from the night. Ellie hesitated, then walked over to your vanity and grabbed a pack of makeup wipes.

“Uh, I think we should, like, take this off. Your makeup, I mean. It’s not good to sleep in it, right?” she said, her voice uncertain.

You gave a small nod, too tired to argue. Ellie gently wiped your face, her touch careful and deliberate. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how stunning you looked without the makeup—your natural beauty left her momentarily speechless.

Her phone buzzing in her pocket snapped her out of her thoughts. She pulled it out, sighing when she saw Joel’s name on the screen.

“Ellie! Are you okay?” Joel’s voice was filled with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Ellie said quickly, glancing at you to make sure you were still resting comfortably. “I, uh, just had to help someone get home. I’m heading back now.”

Joel let out a relieved sigh. “You’re a good kid, you know that? Just don’t stay out too late.”

“Got it. Be home soon,” Ellie replied, hanging up.

She turned back to you, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders before quietly slipping out of the room. As she made her way back to the truck, she couldn’t help but smile, feeling oddly proud of herself for the night’s events.

Taglist: Hopefully I got everyone! @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo @lamorenita @kissedberries

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bring-forth-his-sac · 6 months ago

Text

The Christmas Party - Chapter 6

summary: The Christmas Party is nearly here and while setting up decorations, Negan has other plans...

tags: Modern AU, Teacher AU, Gossip, Swearing, Pet Names, Slow Burn, Alcohol Consumption, Flirting

word count: 5.9k

check out the previous part here!

It’s strange how much can change in just a week. Seven days ago, the mere sight of Negan was enough to make your stomach turn. Everything about him annoyed you. From his smirk to his little quips, to how his eyes would follow you. Everything!

And from the way he had abandoned you at that Target parking lot, it was clear he felt the same. But here you are now, a week later, and things are just… different.

Wednesday morning goes by in a flash. When you aren’t trying to get your students to focus, you’re jotting down decoration ideas for the sports hall or texting Negan to arrange times to meet.

Only on professional business, per usual.

Although you have so much sorted for the party, everything still feels like a frantic blur. Other teachers talk to you about last minute presents they can’t track down. Meanwhile, the kids are practically counting down the minutes, each one trying to power through the day just to get a little closer to the holiday break.

No one wants to be here and yet you’re all stuck in school for a few more days; one last push before freedom.

A rhythmic knock echoes at the classroom door, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Without waiting for a response, Carol pokes her head in, a bright smile on her face. Some kids meet her look with big grins of their own, completely buying into her happy-go-lucky persona.

You give her a smile too but you know when she’s putting up a front.

You have most of your students writing stories, giving them a page quota and letting their imaginations run wild. None of them are doing it though, too busy chatting with friends, sneakily going on their phones and asking you to play Christmas music.

“Hi!” Carol greets you, throwing a quick glance behind her to make sure the students are too busy chatting to pay attention.

Clearing her throat, she hovers by the edge of your desk and whispers “I see you didn’t take my advice”.

Your eyebrows knit together and you pull your chair closer to her. “What? What advice?” You question, tone full of curiosity.

“When I told you to keep your head down and just plan the party, I didn’t mean put your head down on Negan’s thing!”.

You almost blurt out a string of “What’s,” “No’s,” and “As if’s,” but you catch yourself just in time, not wanting to draw the attention of your students. Instead your mouth just opens, a strangled sound of what could be a scoff coming out.

“I haven’t been anywhere near his thing!” You quietly protest “Negan and I are just working on the party, nothing more, nothing less!”.

The look on her face says she doesn’t believe you. “So you just like sending each other pictures? Nothing physical?” Carol asks pointedly, making you feel like a student getting reprimanded.

As subtly as you can, you throw your hands up “Ok, so this is all coming from Sherry and the dick pic rumor?”.

Jingle Bell Rock starts playing down the other side of the class and you have to quickly remind Enid not to play it too loud before turning back to Carol.

She looks at you with her arms crossed “Yes, Sherry mentioned pictures but also, it’s a little obvious with how Negan’s acting”.

You raise your eyebrows at that, waiting for her to continue.

“Do you know what I walked into today when I went into the teacher's lounge?” she asks, her voice taking on a dramatic tone “Negan, laughing with Eugene”.

She lets the words hang in the air, revealing it like the twist in a horror story, expecting you to react the way she clearly wants.

“I don’t think I follow…” you admit truthfully.

Carol sighs, looking like she’s about to pick up a book and try to knock some sense into you. “Negan was laughing with Eugene,” she repeats “not laughing at Eugene, like he normally does”.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smirk that’s desperate to break free. “Maybe he’s finally found the meaning of Christmas?” you suggest, offering up an explanation.

Carol doesn’t appreciate the joke.

“He’s different, I’ll give you that,” she says, her gaze locking with yours. It’s not a glare, but an intense stare that makes you feel like she’s trying to drill her words into you, as if she needs you to understand now more than ever.

“But he’s still Negan. And Negan will do what he always does, chase skirts and try to get laid” she continues.

You purse your lips, torn. You don’t want to defend Negan, especially when Carol is technically right. But you also know there’s more to him than what she sees. You opt to stay quiet.

“If you show him interest then he’ll sniff around you for a while but he’ll get bored or realise you’re not interested in doing things at his pace, and that’s when he’ll vanish,” Carol gives you the harsh truth “He’s not going to chase after you when you rebuff him or eventually give into him. Either way, you’re not winning”.

It almost makes your mood falter, the harsh reality check of who Negan is. But then you remind this is just her perspective, shaped by the rumors she’s heard and the small glimpses she’s caught.

Carol hasn’t seen him getting dodgeballs hurled at him or witnessed Negan falling on his ass while ice skating. There’s a different side to him that you’re more privy to.

And so you shrug nonchalantly “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind”.

“Keep it in mind?” Carol repeats, her voice laced with a thin edge of disbelief. She has a talent for making every answer you give sound like the wrong one.

With a sigh, she adds “Oh, he has you wrapped around his finger and you don’t even know it”.

Sticking to your story, you calmly reply “Negan’s just a friend, that’s it. I get that he has this… charisma but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in him”.

Carol keeps her face neutral, her eyes studying you like she can detect if you’re lying. “Sure, if you say so,” she cautiously concedes “but that’s not the impression everyone else is getting”.

You let out a long groan, putting your head in your hands.

“But I’ll drop it,” she quickly says as you groan “…but if something happens, I called it first”.

“Carol!” You exclaim before looking around at the busy students “Um, I mean, Ms Peletier!”.

She chuckles at your quick correction. With a final glance, she heads toward the door. “I’m just looking out for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you” her words hang in the air and before you can respond, she disappears out the door.

As your classes go on, Carol’s words echo in your head. No matter how much you try to push it away or deem it ridiculous, it lingers.

You know Negan. You’ve been on his good side and his bad side and yet, you’re still here. You’ve got it all under control.

There’s no crush, no hidden feelings lurking in the corners of your mind and most definitely no secret hook ups or nudes being sent.

By the time you get to visit Negan, your lingering thoughts are replaced by nervous fretting about the party.

You already gave him the heads up that you wanted him up a ladder and putting up the tinsel and lights you had bought. But in true Negan fashion, by the time you get to visit the sports hall, he isn’t the one up a ladder.

“Carl, I know you’re just fucking with me now,” he has his hands on his hips, not even holding the ladder “just tape the lights up there! It doesn’t have to look all fancy!”.

“I know,” the tense voice of his student retorts.

“You know? Then why the fuck are you doing a ‘will they, won’t they’ routine with lights and tinsel?” Negan barks out before remembering how an essential part of hand-eye coordination just so happens to be eyesight.

“Y’know what, just come down and I’ll get my own ass up there” he sighs, practically slapping his hand off his forehead.

“Looks like I came just in time,” you speak up, alerting Negan to your presence. He looks back with a smile, sizing you up and down.

Gesturing to the ladder, he asks “Why, you gonna volunteer?”.

“Nope but I’ll hold the ladder for you,” you offer. Walking over, you wait until Carl’s feet touch the ground before giving him a grateful smile for trying.

Negan steps up next, turning back to his class and ordering them to start moving some tables in here and to pretty them up with tinsel.

“Hope ya don’t mind I got started without ya,” Negan grunts as he begins his ascent up, lights wrapped around one arm and tape in the other.

You hold the ladder steady, purposefully not looking up.

“It’s fine,” you reply “but won’t the decorations get in the way of your classes tomorrow?”.

Glancing around, you see Negan’s class fully focused on the mission at hand; some are following his orders and lifting in tables, two are racing up and down as they sweep the floors, others make paper chains and snowflakes with what they can find, hanging them up on the walls.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Negan steadies himself at the top of the ladder “if the weather’s fine tomorrow, I’ll have them run laps outside”.

Through a series of huffs and grunts, you can only assume Negan is getting the lights and tinsel to stay. You hear strips of tape being tore off, the rustling of the tinsel and then… whistling?

You look up. How could you not look up when he’s deciding now is a great time to whistle?

But it’s a trap.

Grinning down at you, Negan lets out a dark chuckle. “Look at you appreciating the view” he teases. Instantly averting your eyes, you make an act of putting your hand up to shield him from your view.

“Asshole” you mumble just loud enough for only him to hear. You get a chuckle in response before Negan goes back to work.

“So if the hall’s going to be done by the end of the day, what’re we supposed to do tomorrow?” You ask.

“We got a special job tomorrow,” Negan says vaguely “we’re getting domestic”.

He purposely makes you wait until he’s done taping up the lights and tinsel before revealing more “Dear ol’Jesus— the school counselor, not the other one, has made a donation to our cause”.

“Is that so?” You allow yourself to look up at him once he starts his descent down, meeting him with a skeptical look when he’s off the ladder.

“Yup,” he smirks, tongue peeking out of his mouth as he revels in your reaction “we got a Christmas tree to put up!”.

“What?!” Is the only thing you can manage to say, your brain struggling to catch up with the absurdity of the situation.

Negan nods “He gave us a tree, balls to hang off it, a fuckin’ star for the top”.

You blink at him in disbelief. “First off, they’re called baubles, not balls,” you correct him, but even as you say it, you’re still trying to process the entire scenario “And second… just— what?”.

Negan tilts his head, his smirk never fading “I know but balls are better, and I raise your what to a what the fuck”.

“Well, why don’t we put it up now? Or after school if you’re free” you suggest, trying to keep the momentum going.

Negan sighs, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry, doll. I got plans… and so do you.”

You furrow your brow. “I do?” you ask.

“Yeah, duh,” he says, his tone impossibly casual, as if the answer should be obvious “it’s my turn to take you on a date”.

You laugh, shaking your head despite appreciating the gesture “Negan, no, you don’t have to do that”.

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Oh, c’mon. You took me out, and you didn’t even expect me to put out,” he winks mischievously “it’s my turn to wine and dine you”.

You hesitate, clearly torn. You want to accept and Negan’s offer is tempting in ways you’re not willing to admit, but you’re not about to let yourself get swept up in whatever this is.

Carol’s words from early ring out in your head.

“Well…” you start, fidgeting with your fingers as if the words are stuck in your throat “I don’t think another round of ice skating would be a good idea”.

Negan raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face “Who mentioned that? No, no, no, I’m going all out this time”.

You try to keep your voice even, but there’s a part of you that’s already imagining whatever plan he has. You swallow the feeling down, just barely.

“So… what did you have in mind?”

He leans back, eyes gleaming as he watches you “You said you haven’t been to the Kingdom yet, right?”.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The second you walk through the heavy wooden doors of the Kingdom, you're met with the rich scent of roasted meats and herbs.

The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the room, with flickering candlelight atop sturdy wooden tables, each surrounded by plush velvet chairs.

The walls, lined with dark oak panels, are adorned with tapestries depicting medieval scenes; knights on horseback, feasts in great halls, ancient forests.

As the server leads you through the restaurant, he brings you and Negan to a table near the back. Close by, a stone fireplace crackles softly, the flames dancing in the hearth.

“Negan, how did you even get a booking here so close to Christmas?” you ask once you’re both alone and left with the menus.

He lets out a stiff laugh “Between you and me, the place had plumbing issues a few years back and I don’t think its reputation ever recovered”.

Your face says it all but Negan quickly reassures you “It’s all sorted now so don’t worry if you need to use the shitter”.

With a playful scoff, you pick up your menu “You can’t say ladies room? Or bathroom?”.

“Oh, well I would be nice and polite if this was a date,” he says it so brazenly with that perfect white smile of his “so, doll, is this a date?”.

You open your mouth to answer when the server comes back over “My dude and dudette! Have we decided on food? Or some drinks to start you off?”.

Giving Negan a quick, playful glare, you turn to the menu and decide on which drinks to have.

The candlelight flickers gently on the table as you order drinks. Since Negan has insisted on driving tonight, you’ve decided to treat yourself to a cocktail, the house special to be exact. Shiva a lá Tigress.

The buzz of quiet conversations act as background noise, merely there to set the mood.

Negan’s shoulders relax as he leans back in his chair, the deep lines of his face softened by the warm glow of the table. He’s wearing a smile tonight but you don’t doubt that it could become a mischievous smirk within seconds.

You can’t help but notice the leather jacket that clings to his broad shoulders, the worn material perfectly shaped to his frame. As much as you’re reluctant to admit it, the jacket makes Negan look effortlessly handsome, a perfect combination of rugged and rebellious.

The conversation flows non-stop, especially since you have your cocktail in front of you. He talks with that charmingly cocky confidence that used to irk you endless but since then, you’ve grown accustomed to it.

For dinner, you keep your order simple, while Negan goes all out with steak and roasted vegetables. He’s always been partial to something he can sink his teeth into and tonight's no different.

“So, you heading back home for the holidays?” Negan asks before clarifying “I mean, family home”.

You go to shrug but stop yourself, the question throwing you off guard to the point that you can’t pretend to be nonchalant. “Actually, I was going to stay here for Christmas” you take a sip of your cocktail to distract yourself.

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. His smirk softens into something more thoughtful, though it’s hard to tell if he's surprised or just curious.

"Staying here for Christmas, huh?" he repeats, his tone warm but carrying that edge of skepticism only he can manage "No family to visit? No friends back home?".

You can feel his gaze lingering on you, a mix of curiosity and maybe just a hint of concern—though it could just be him enjoying the chance to poke at something unexpected. He swirls his glass of Coke before taking a sip as you debate what to say.

For once, the man is patient.

You can feel the weight of the question. It's not one you expected and that's only one of the reasons it makes you uneasy. Shrugging, you steal a small roast potato off of his plate.

“I just want some space, I guess,” you bite into the potato before you continue “I want a nice, relaxed Christmas and this is the first time I have an actual excuse not to go back home for Christmas”.

Negan watches you swipe the potato, his lips twitching into an amused grin, but he doesn’t say anything right away.

Instead, he thinks it over, eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. When you finish speaking, he lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"First time with an excuse, huh?" he murmurs, the tone half-wistful, half-knowing.

"Well, sometimes the holidays aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, you know? Family’s great and all, but... sometimes you just need a break from all the noise” Negan taps the side of his glass thoughtfully "I get that. Hell, I’ve skipped a few of those big family gatherings myself".

He shrugs, his eyes flickering to the plate but you can see he’s not really focused on the food anymore “So, you’re not used to relaxed Christmas’?”.

You glance up from his plate, finding the question oddly direct but it’s clear he’s genuinely curious now. You take another bite of the potato, chewing slowly before setting it down.

“I don’t think anyone in my family knows how to have a ‘relaxed’ Christmas,” you say with a dry laugh, shrugging “It’s always... loud, busy, everyone trying to outdo each other. Or if it’s not that, it’s just a whole lot of awkward silences and forced smiles”.

You take another bite, letting the quiet settle in for a moment. “I don’t even know if I’d know what to do with myself if I had one of those perfect, calm Christmases you see in movies. Maybe that's why it feels like the right time to just... take a break. For once” you try to explain.

Negan gives a low, thoughtful hum “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it's easier to just step back, take a breath. No noise, no expectations”.

He leans back in his chair, a little more relaxed now "Maybe that's what Christmas is supposed to be, huh? Just... doing what feels right".

There’s something in his voice—maybe the quiet understanding—that feels like he's speaking from experience, not just making small talk.

“So, what’s Ms. Goody Two-Shoes’s idea of a perfect Christmas?” Negan asks, his grin widening as he throws the playful jab your way.

You giggle at the nickname, shaking your head a little. You pause for a moment, thinking about it. What would a perfect Christmas look like for you? You’re not sure, but one thing’s for sure—it wouldn’t be like the ones from your past.

“Hmm,” you murmur, tilting your head as you contemplate the question. “Lazing around all day, eating whatever I feel like, and watching Christmas movies on repeat. Sounds like heaven to me”.

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “The Hallmark ones?” he teases, smirking at the thought of you glued to the TV watching all the over the top, feel good holiday rom-coms.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “No, no. Whatever ones I come across. Doesn’t matter if they’re cheesy or weird or action packed. I’m not picky”.

You take a moment to think about it, the image of you sprawled out in front of a TV playing reruns of Christmas movies filling your mind. “Honestly, I think I just want something... low-key. No pressure to impress anyone, no forced cheer. Just me, snacks and maybe an ugly Christmas sweater”.

Negan’s smile softens, studying you for a second "Yeah, I can see that. No expectations, no drama. Just... doing whatever feels right in the moment. Not a bad way to spend the holidays".

You can feel the weight of his words and for a second, it almost feels like you’ve stumbled into a little unspoken understanding between you two. But then you remember that this is just two friends having dinner.

There’s nothing more to it. You’re not about to get tangled up in whatever attraction this is. It’s not like Negan is the type of person who does relationships or anything more than a hookup.

As Carol’s warning from early ring in your head again, you take another sip of cocktail.

You try to rid your mind of his laugh— genuine and deep, or the glint in his eyes whenever your gaze meet. No, that warmth that makes you want to melt isn’t important. That’s just how everyone feels when they look at their friends!

…right?

Both your phones go off at the same time, a sharp ping cutting through your drifting thoughts. For a split second, neither of you react, the phones interrupting the nice moment.

Before you can pull your phone out, Negan already has his on the table. The screen glows bright and he glances down, fingers tapping quickly to unlock it.

You’re unsure whether you should look or not but without saying a word, Negan tilts the phone so you can see the group chat from his phone.

Gregory: staff party friday can only go on until 11! Everyone needs to leave the premises by then

You can't help but groan. "Ugh... We don’t have to stay the whole time, right? Like, we’re not obligated or anything?"

Negan chuckles, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "As far as I’m concerned, the second that party kicks off, it’s no longer our problem".

You’re about to take another drink when Negan leaves the group chat messages and goes back on to his list of messages with his various contacts.

You were at the top of the list due to Negan and you messaging during school about your dinner dat– … dinner meeting, but Gregory’s message into the group chat has knocked you into second place.

You catch a glimpse of your name sitting by the top and a confused look shadows your face. Yes, it technically is your name but the brackets after it is what throws you off guard.

You lean in, squinting to get a better look, and read aloud “Good ass, great throw?”.

The words hang in the air, your voice wavering slightly as you glance up at Negan. His expression shifts instantly, that sly grin fading into something closer to a deer in the headlights moment.

Without missing a beat, he swipes his phone off and locks it, a little too quickly.

"Uh..." he starts, but his usual confidence is nowhere to be found now. He shifts, looking anywhere but at you "You... didn’t just see that".

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. "Good ass, great throw, huh?" you repeat, drawing the words out “that’s all you have to say about me?”.

Negan clears his throat, looking a little flustered for once. "Yeah, well, uh, I mean it is the truth, doll”.

“Uh huh,” you respond, waiting a few beats before playfully slapping his arm “you’re weird”.

He laughs at your brief assessment, relaxing now that you’re not storming out. “Well, it used to say good ass, weird at flirting”.

You blink in mock outrage “I am not weird at flirting!”

Negan gives you a slow, calculating look, his grin widening like he’s about to watch some sort of show “Alright, then. Prove it to me”.

You raise an eyebrow, instantly skeptical “Prove what, exactly?”.

“Flirt with me! Show me you actually got some game,” he laughs at your innocent question.

You take a slow breath, a bit taken aback but determined to play along.

You lean forward slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful smirk. "You want me to flirt with you?" you say, your voice laced with a quiet challenge "I mean, I’m not sure you’re worth the effort but I guess I can make an exception".

Negan raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. His smirk widens “Oh, so we're starting with the sass, huh? I like it”.

You giggle, running a finger along the rim of your drink, eyes never leaving his. "I’m not being sassy, just honest," you continue, gesturing to the leather jacket "Like I can be honest and tell you that I’m liking the whole ‘Rebel Without a Cause’ thing you got going on”.

His eyes glint with amusement and he shifts slightly, clearly enjoying the game. “Well, well, look at you, getting all bold. You think you can handle a guy like me?”.

You laugh softly, your tone low and teasing “I don’t know, it would be a tight fit”. To make sure he gets what you’re saying, you give him a slow once-over, letting your eyes roam down his chest… then down his torso… to where the table blocks your view.

Negan’s smirk falters as he lets out a low groan, his expression shifting. “You want to get out of here?” His voice is gruff and there’s something in it that makes you think he’s serious.

“I think we’ll have to,” you agree before you break your act and nod towards the approaching waiter “here comes the bill”.

Reluctantly, Negan pulls his gaze away from you, his eyes flicking toward the waiter. He lets out a heavy sigh, then shoots you a playful glare, clearly not thrilled about the interruption.

Before he can say anything else, the waiter arrives at the table, ready to settle the score.

Negan pays the bill without even asking if you’d like to split it, putting a couple of bills down on the table and nodding to the waiter.

You both stand and he gestures for you to head out first, the tension between you still palpable despite the evening winding down.

As you both step out of the restaurant, the sharp winter air hits you immediately, biting through your clothes. You’re just about to pull your coat tighter when you feel the warmth of Negan’s leather jacket settle over your shoulders, his actions wordless.

The smooth, worn leather feels surprisingly comforting against the chill, and for a moment it’s as if the cold doesn’t exist. You glance up at him, but he’s already heading towards his truck.

You follow, trying to will yourself not to smell his scent from the jacket.

The drive back is quiet at first, the only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional flick of a turn signal. The soft glow of streetlights flickers through the windows, casting shadows that seem to accentuate the unspoken energy between you.

Every now and then, you’ll give him a direction back to yours. Considering you’ve had your cocktail, all you can do is accept the ride home from your friend. You can feel his eyes on you, how he always turns to look your way whenever he doesn’t need to be paying attention to the road.

“And Negan will do what he always does, chase skirts and try to get laid”.

The car moves smoothly through the night but the air feels charged, thick with the remnants of your banter from dinner.

It’s calm, almost intimate, but you can’t ignore the underlying tension— like the quiet before a storm, neither of you know how it’ll break but it will, eventually.

When he pulls up outside your home, you take a deep breath and say what you’ve been debating the whole ride home.

“I’m not inviting you in,” you make clear, despite the hesitancy in your eyes “we know where that would lead…”.

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he turns to you, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” he replies, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“If you show him interest then he’ll sniff around you for a while but he’ll get bored or realise you’re not interested in doing things at his pace, and that’s when he’ll vanish”.

“I’ve had a really good night, though,” you add quickly, wanting him to know you’re not brushing off the evening entirely. You unbuckle your seatbelt slowly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before you slip his leather jacket off your shoulders.

You hand it back to him but Negan doesn’t take it. Instead, his hand moves in a fluid motion, past the jacket and gently cupping your wrist before you can pull away.

The quiet hum of the engine fills the space between you, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the contours of your hand. The air in the car feels thicker now, charged with something deeper, something neither of you can put into words.

His eyes stay on you as if nothing could pull his gaze away from you now. Negan shifts slightly, his posture more serious.

“I gotta ask,” he starts, his voice low but steady, “are you gonna keep on pretending these aren’t dates?”.

It’s tempting to play it off, to keep it light and avoid the question altogether but the truth is, you know it too. There’s more to this— more to the connection between you than just a night out or playful teasing while planning the party.

Yeah,” you admit, your voice soft “I guess these are dates.”

The truth feels strange coming out, but the moment you say it, you feel something inside you shift. It’s like a door has opened and suddenly, everything is laid bare between you.

You lean in just a little, your breath mingling with his, and for a heartbeat, you almost forget to breathe. His lips are so close and the moment feels so right, you can’t resist anymore.

“He’s not going to chase after you when you rebuff him or eventually give into him”.

Negan’s grin widens but it’s softer now, like he’s relieved. He leans in closer, the air between you crackling with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, his lips brushing just a hair’s breadth from yours.

And then, the tension breaks.

Without another word, Negan leans in and the space between you closes in an instant. His lips meet yours with a quiet, urgent tenderness, as if all the teasing, all the moments leading up to this, have been building to this one perfect kiss.

Time slows as you kiss him back, the world outside reduced to nothing more than the heat of his lips and the fluttering of your heart.

It’s slow at first as if you’re both savoring the simple act, but soon it deepens— more pressing, more urgent, as if neither of you wants to let the moment slip away.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull back just enough to catch your breath, foreheads touching and a quiet laugh is shared between you. The air is still thick with desire, but now there’s a warmth, a certainty, that wasn’t there before.

“Either way, you’re not winning”.

“You’re still not coming inside” you murmur, grinning up at him before you rethink what you’ve just said. “My apartment!” you clarify “You’re not coming inside my apartment!”.

“Fair but don’t think this’ll be the last time I’m taking you out” his words carry a promise but there’s something deeper in his tone, a kind of vulnerability you didn’t expect from the infamous womanizer.

“Goodnight, Negan,” You give him one last lingering glance then slowly slide the truck door open.

He watches you for a beat longer, a half-smile still playing on his lips. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he responds, his voice carrying something more than the usual casual goodbye.

As you make your way up the path to your door, you can’t help but feel a sense of giddiness, like you’re walking on air.

It’s baffling to think Carol was so wrong about him but you can only assume that’s the result of so many people brushing Negan off as an asshole.

You don’t know what the future holds, but tonight, something changed, and you can’t wait to see where it goes.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Thursday. Just today, classes tomorrow and then it’s on. Party time.

You rush around the school, genuinely panicked that it’s already midday and you still haven’t located Sherry.

You need to know the details; what food specifically will she be making for the party? Will she only prepare it and you have to cook it before or will it be ready to go? How much food is she making? Does she seriously believe Negan’s dick pic story?

To make matters worse, you haven’t seen Negan all morning too, setting back your plans to decorate the Christmas tree.

Like a beggar, you stay in the stoop of your classroom, unable to leave your students unattended but yearning to track down the cafeteria worker. Whenever a colleague passes by your classroom, you barrage them with questions, hoping someone else might know what you so evidently don’t.

“Have you seen Sherry today?” is the question you start with.

Morgan, or, Mr Jones to the kids, keeps walking as he replies “I’ve been clearing the corridors all morning and I haven’t seen her once”.

Next, you ask Eugene, who gives you the most unhelpfully detailed answer. “Well, uh, truth be told, I don’t exactly have that particular piece of information in my possession,” he starts “if I did, I would certainly share it. But as of now, I am, regrettably, not privy to her current whereabouts”.

Carol thankfully didn’t stop either when you asked her, knowing she’d be able to read your face and know that something happened between you and Negan.

“Maybe she just isn’t in yet?” she suggests before going off to her own class.

Rosita, on the other hand, simply says “No”.

It’s only during the short break between classes are you able to quickly do a lap of the school, peering into the cafeteria and staff room as you go. But once again, no luck.

Walking back to your next class, who are no doubt going crazy now that they’re teacher is late, you catch a glimpse of a certain brunette out the window.

In the teacher’s parking lot, Sherry huffs as she gets out of her car. You see her mouth move, as if she’s talking before shutting the car door. Not seeing anyone else around, you assume she’s on the phone and decide to wait until later to bombard her with questions.

But then the passenger’s door of her car opens. You recognise the tall frame, the slicked back hair and the greying stubble.

Negan. Arriving to work with Sherry. In her car. Together.

Your throat tightens and you’re not sure if you want to cry or punch something. Turning on your heels your feet go into autopilot as they bring you back to your classroom.

“Either way, you’re not winning”.

#negan fanfiction #negan smith fanfiction #negan x reader #negan x you #twd negan #negan #negan smith #negan twd #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdm x reader #negan the walking dead #the walking dead negan #negan smith x female reader #negan smith x you #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #twd fanfiction

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anemhoez · 2 years ago

Text

Fun Guy…

Tighnari/AFAB Reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, breeding kink

A/N: this idea came to me while i was playing as tighnari 💀 hope you like it!

words: 2k

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“Nariiii,” your voice beckoned him like a sweet song, “come to bed.” You currently lay on said “bed”, a straw mat you managed to put together during your impromptu research trip through the dense forest. The rain started to fall and once you and Tighnari finished dispensing of a withering, you made camp quickly in the spot that had cleared up beautifully.“In a minute darling,” his voice full of curiosity at the current specimen he observed in his hand. The rain had stopped and the night air was crisp, the smell of damp greenery permeated the tent as you tried to get comfortable without his warmth.

Tighnari jotted down notes to describe the look of the fungus in his hand, his slender fingers squeezing it softly. “Fascinating!” he said and just wrote down even more words. You sighed and stared up at the low ceiling of the tent, “When did you even pick that thing?” your eyebrow raising at him. He turned to you, his hazel eyes meeting yours, “I grabbed it before we set up the tent, you might have been distracted with hammering the stakes.” He used his pencil to measure the height of the fungus, “Its pretty much bite-sized.” Your mind trailed off thinking about how those stakes weren’t the only things that needed to be hammered. Tighnaris voice was but a whisper suddenly, “Well, it tastes just fine.” You turned immediately and noticed the fungus that was just in his hand was gone, “Nari?!” your voice was loud and he snapped his head towards you, “Did you just eat it?!”

He swallowed audibly, “No?” You shook your head, your hands coming to cross over your chest, “For a forest ranger, that’s pretty irresponsible of you,” what if you fall ill?!” He realized the error of his ways as he felt the fungus slowly travel down his gullet, “Sorry, I don’t have any of my lab equipment and, this is the only way I can test its properties.” He reached out and took your hand in his, “It wont happen again, I promise.” His fluffy ears perked up and you couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. “Why do you even need to examine it so thoroughly right now anyway?” you questioned the ranger, “you couldn’t wait until we got back to the village?”

Tighnari turned away from you, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks, “Well, about that,” he said and toyed with his earring, a gesture he always did when he was nervous, “that fungus, I actually know more about it then I let on.” He stood up, his tail swishing from side to side, “I ate it, knowing what it will do to me.” His eyes were avoiding yours and you took him by the chin gently, “Oh? Whats it supposed to do to you? Have you been feeling unwell?” He shook his head and took you by the waist, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace, “Not at all,” he moved in closer and gave you a kiss, his tongue parting your lips. You kissed him back, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. that familiar feeing of excitement in the pit of your stomach catalyzing. He pulled away and met your eyes once more, “I read about it a few weeks ago, and was curious, so while we were out here I took the opportunity to search for it” he explained with enthusiasm, his ears moving in tandem with his words, “It’s a natural performance enhancer.” You couldn’t help but smirk devilishly,

“Are you serious?,” your hands came to cover your month, “Tighnari, you degenerate!” you joked and he pulled you back to him, holding you close. “What do you say Y/n? Would you be interested in being my research assistant?” To say you were surprised was an understatement, you’d never expect this from him in a million years. A part of you was excited, but another part felt guilty, as if it was your fault he needed to “enhance” himself in some way.

“I’m at your disposal Nari but, why do you feel like you need to take something like this?” you asked, your hands coming to tug on his ears playfully. “Not only out of curiosity but, you have no idea how badly I want to,” he stopped and his tail began to wag faster, “fuck you for hours upon hours.” His words stirred something within you, its not like he didn’t have the stamina naturally, you thanked his genetics for that. “Okay, I just don’t want you feeling inadequate in any way,” you said as you trailed your hands down his body. “Not at all I just want to,” he stopped when you palmed his bulge through his loose shorts, “make you feel even better than usual, Y/n.” You rubbed against him, “Hmm I see,” your hand reached inside the hem of his shorts, “Im so lucky to have a guy like you Nari, always so considerate.” He huffed as you continued your ministrations, your soft hands stroking him to erection, “Anything for you- ah!”

Tighnari yelled and you quickly removed your hand from his pants, “Archons! Did I hurt you?” He shook his head to reassure you, “I think the fungus is taking effect,” he looked down and pulled the hem of his pants to peer inside, “it kind of stings? But in a good way?” You peered into his open hem, “I don’t think it should hurt though,” your voice laced with worry, “Now Im worried.” He pulled out his dick and held it. He stroked it lazily, “Theres no need to worry,” his cock looking heavy in his hands, “ It feels incredible.” His voice was low as he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back a moan.

The sight in front of you made your core tremble. Tighnari was moaning louder than before, his thick cock beginning to drip with pre-cum. You instinctively got on you knees, “Nari,” you cooed and he looked down at you, “what happened to me being your assistant?” He smiled and took the back of your head gently, “That’s right,” he guided his cock to your lips and you graciously took him into your mouth. It felt almost foreign in your mouth, what with how thick the fungus had made him. You pulled away, his cock bobbing and dripping with saliva. “I think you’re thicker than usual, I can barely take the whole thing.”

You took his dick in your hand and stroked it hard, moving to suck at his now thickened sack. He moaned loudly at the sensation, “Is that so?” He suddenly pulled away from you, “One second, let me grab my notes.” His cock bobbed as he reached for his notepad, “Takes effect after a few minuets, almost as if it bypasses the digestive system, may increase in girth.” His tone was serious as he scribbled. You could feel your wetness start to soak your underwear, your boyfriends dick almost taunting you as it stood at full mast. “Ahem,” you cleared your throat and he came back to reality. A smile spread across his face, “My apologies, its all just so, fascinating!” his voice brimming with excitement

He pulled you up and onto your feet, “Shall we try another variable?” his hand came up to your mouth and wiped away some of the mess. You realized what he meant and crawled over to the mat, “And that variable would be?” you teased, your hand trailing down your body to between your legs. Tighnari could hear just how wet you were, “My cock inside of you, of course.” He positioned himself in front of you, his cock in hand, harder than ever. He watched as you opened your legs wide, completely exposing yourself to him. You slid your fingers inside of you, the squelching sounds cause Tighnari to emit a growl from deep within his throat. “You’re already so wet for me,” his voice was soft as he moved to slot between your plush thighs. “like a good assistant should be.”

He pushed the head of his throbbing cock into you, “Ah, fuck Y/n,” he grunted and buried himself to the hilt, “have you always been this tight?” He pulled out and the drag of his cock almost took your breath away, “Nari!” His hand pushed your thighs down further onto the mattress, “Tell me, how it feels” his voice was needy, his teeth coming to bite his bottom lip as he pulled out and thrusted back in. You arched your back, the sensation whenever he hit your cervix causing you to wince a little, “S-so, big, it feels, ah, bigger than usual?” you questioned how that was possible but stopped when he slammed back into you, “Fuck Nari!” Your eyes darted to where he disappeared inside of you, “How do you feel?” He chuckled at your question, “Incredible Y/n, simply incredible!” he exclaimed with a moan as you clenched down on him harder. “I cant wait to fuck you like this for the rest of the night.”

There was barely any space between you and Tighnari with how close he was holding you, making sure his cock was nestled deep inside of you. He picked up his pace and with every hard piston like thrust , his cock brushed against your sweet spot. Tighnaris ears drooped low, and you reached up to scratch behind them, knowing just how needy and whiney it made him. He took your hands from his ears and pinned them above your head, “I’m trying to last longer here,” his tail puffed up, “you know that drives me wild.” You smiled and locked half lidded blown out eyes with him, “Maybe I want you to get wild Nari,” you rolled your hips to meet his in a fervor, “fuck me like an animal and fill me up with your cum.” His eyes went wide, his hips meeting yours harder with a smack, “Oh? Is that part of the experiment?” he joked and smiled down at you. He leaned down and kissed you, his teeth taking your bottom lip and biting down. He brought a hand to your neck, “Want me to fill you up, huh? To breed you, darling?” his tone was intense, with his favorite thing to do to you now on the table, he pulled out of you. “Turn around”

You obeyed, almost immediately and didn’t care how desperate it might have made you look. You got on your elbows and knees, your ass perked up perfectly in the air. “Breed me, please Nari.” He slapped your ass hard and you yelped a desperate cry. Tighnari moved and easily slid into you from behind, “Just how I like it,” his nimble hands coming to squeeze your ass. This new position allowed him to fuck you harder, to hold onto your wrists and use them to pull you onto him. His piston like pumps sending you into a fit of whines and curses. Tighnari grunted and growled behind you, “You always take me so well,” he pushed your arms against you back, crossing them over one another, “so tight, so fucking wet.” The only things holding you up were your knees, your face buried into the pillow, muffling your pitiful screams. He grunted and huffed, “I can feel you about to cum, fuck!” he said and grabbed a fistful of your hair. This was it, that action alone caused your cunt to flutter and clench down on him hard. A guttural scream came from your throat, “Nari!” was all you said through your euphoric climax.

But your fox hybrid boyfriend continued to thrust, still seeking his own release. “You’ll have to explain that orgasm to me in great detail.” His voice was hoarse, his thrusts still merciless. You lay on your cheek, your pussy still throbbing, drool and tears dirtying the pillow. You moaned with every thrust he gave you, like a babbling fool hungry for more. He let go of your wrists, letting you readjust and get comfortable. His thrusts slowed down, “Look at you, this is exactly what i wanted to do to you,” his voice was softer now, “have you so fucked out and drunk on my cock.” You turned to lay on your side, his dick never exiting you. “Fuck that fungus, in the name of the archons,” you huffed and moved to lay back down on your back, “fuck that fungus.”

He was now leaning over you, his thrusts as vicious as ever, your tongues meeting in a sloppy kiss. Your fingers were intertwined, his weight of his body holding you down. “Nari, ah!” you said through the kiss. He rolled his hips into you, not just fucking you now but making love to you. “I know darling, me too.” You continued the kiss and with a few more thrusts from Tighnari, you came on him again, your body writhed in pleasure. His thrusts became erratic as he felt your walls flutter against him, this time bringing him to his own peak. Tighnari howled, his seed spurting deep inside of you. His load was larger than usual, “Fuck, I’m still cumming!” he exclaimed as his body convulsed. You watched his ears droop as he huffed and shook through his orgasm. “Tighnari, I feel so full,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. He opened his eyes after he finished and pulled out of you. Thick white seed almost gushed out of you, he observed closely as you reached down and used your fingers to push his cum back into you. “Theres so much,” you said and looked at him, “are you trying to become a father?.” The fox hybrid smiled and moved to your side, “Not just yet,” You kissed and cuddled for a few minutes before you felt Tighnaris cock getting hard again. “Already?!” you looked down and there it was, his pretty dick getting hard for you all over again. He held a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh, “Archons, Ill have pages of notes to write later.”

A/N: hehe this unlocked a kink!! 😀🥴 no, im not okay!

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin smut #genshin tighnari

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winters8child · 9 months ago

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It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 97

“So, have you gone to the memorial?” she asked, her notepad on her leg as she twirled a pen absentmindedly. I was fixated on the framed picture of an elephant behind her, a constant reminder of the phrase "the elephant in the room." And the elephant in my room was that I still hadn’t gone to the memorial for those who had turned to dust.

“Not yet,” I replied with a small shake of my head. “It wouldn’t change anything if I did,” I added, shrugging as if it didn’t matter.

“Being able to say goodbye might,” she suggested gently, her pen scribbling across the notepad again.

I scoffed, the sound escaping before I could stop it. Saying goodbye? All I’d done was say goodbye to Bucky, over and over again—this time, forever. And none of it had ever dulled the ache. Steve had gone, of course. He’d asked me to join him more times than I could count, but every time I’d said no. She probably thought Steve was making more "progress." Maybe she was right. Maybe he had found some peace. But I was still here, stuck, unable to see how a memorial could ever change the hurt.

“Have you gone on a date with Steve? Spent time together as a couple?” she asked, her tone almost too knowing as if she’d already predicted my response.

I shook my head and sighed, “I mean, we watched a movie yesterday... but I fell asleep halfway through.”

She nodded, jotting something down on her notepad again. “I meant something where you get out of the apartment,” she clarified, looking up at me, her eyes expectant.

I started fidgeting, tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. My gaze drifted back to the picture of the elephant, trying to focus on anything but the pressure building inside me. The ticking of the clock behind me felt louder like it was counting every second I’d been sitting there, squirming in discomfort. I had no answer. The idea of leaving the house for a "date" seemed trivial, impossible even. Like trying to pretend everything was normal when nothing ever would be again.

“Mrs. Barnes…” she said softly, and I looked up at her again. That name—it was bittersweet. I loved hearing it, but at the same time, it felt like a cruel reminder of what I’d lost.

“I just see no point…” I shrugged, my voice barely above a whisper as my eyes filled with tears. “I know life goes on, but for me, it doesn’t… not without my baby...not without Bucky.”

My hands trembled as I grabbed a tissue from the small table between us, wiping away the tears that came faster than I could stop them. There was an emptiness inside me that no amount of time, therapy, or forced outings could fill. It was as if I was stuck in the past, in that moment, and everyone else was moving forward while I remained in limbo.

"I know you feel stuck," she said, her voice soft and filled with understanding. "You've been through so much pain, but the fact that you're here tells me that deep down, you want to move on."

I shook my head slightly, my eyes fixed on the tissue in my hand. "Not for my sake… but for Steve," I admitted, my voice breaking just a little. "He keeps talking about buying a house, starting fresh, a new beginning..." I blew my nose, trying to steady myself. "But I don’t know if I can… I don’t know if I can give him that."

I wanted to, but the weight of everything—the loss, the grief, the memories—made it hard to imagine a future, even with Steve.

"I understand that big changes like that might seem daunting," she said, her pen moving quickly across the notepad. "You don't have to rush into anything. Start small. What about something simpler—a date, just to reconnect, to feel the spark again?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words. A spark? The idea of a date felt so distant from where we were now, like a piece of another life. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “It’s hard to even think about things like that... after everything.”

She nodded, giving me space to process. "It doesn’t have to be anything grand. Something low-pressure, a way to spend time together outside of the grief for a moment. You might find that the small steps help you both heal."

I glanced at the picture of the elephant again. Maybe she was right, but part of me was terrified of moving forward, of living without constantly mourning.

I didn’t even know who I was without the pain. It had seeped into every part of me, shaping the person I’d become. It wasn’t just something I felt—it was something I lived with, something that defined me now.

"Think about it, and we can talk more next Friday," she said with a gentle smile, glancing at the clock behind me. "That’s all for today. And remember, if you need anything in the meantime, you can always call."

She stood up, signaling the end of the session, and ushered me toward the door. I gave a small nod, my thoughts swirling, unsure if I would ever know how to move past this.

Steve was already waiting outside, arms crossed over his chest, his expression softening the moment he saw me. "Ready to go?" he asked, reaching for my hand. I nodded, grateful for the simple comfort his presence brought.

We headed down to the garage, the silence between us familiar and unpressing. The sound of the car doors shutting echoed in the quiet space, filling the gap where words might have been. Steve never pried after my appointments, and I never offered much. There wasn’t anything new to say—no breakthroughs, no progress. Just more of the same.

He slipped the keys into the ignition, but before he could start the car, I broke the silence. "Steve?" I asked my voice tight with nerves.

He paused, turning to look at me, his eyes soft but curious. We rarely spoke on the drive home; I was usually too busy wrestling with my own frustration, hating myself for being stuck—unable to move forward, unable to heal.

I frowned, feeling the sudden slickness of sweat on my palms. It felt ridiculous like I was asking out my high school crush. Clearing my throat, I forced a small smile. "Do you want to go on a date?" I asked softly.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then a wide, genuine smile spread across his face. "Yes," he said with a warmth that filled the car. "I would like that."

The look in his eyes shifted as if he had just witnessed a miracle. His expression was tender, almost in disbelief, as though he had seen a bedridden man take his first steps.

I sighed in relief, even though I knew I had no reason to be nervous. I couldn’t imagine Steve saying no, but the tension still lingered in me until he answered.

"On one condition though," he said, his voice turning serious, though the smirk on his face betrayed him.

"Uh, okay?" I raised an eyebrow, unsure where this was going.

"I get to choose where, and it’s a surprise." He was grinning now, clearly pleased with himself, and I could tell by his expression that he’d put thought into this—probably for a while. That realization made me nervous again. I thought we would start small, but this seemed like something bigger.

Steve must have noticed my hesitation because he quickly raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "I mean, we can do something else too... I just had this idea, but if it’s too much, we don’t have to..." he stammered, his words rushing out, clearly afraid I would change my mind.

It made me feel awful. He had spent the past year tiptoeing around me, living around me instead of with me, constantly afraid of breaking me even more. He must think I’m so fragile.

"No, we’re doing what you had planned," I said, trying to inject some sarcasm into my voice. "But this better be good!"

His smile returned, lighting up his face, and he nodded eagerly. "Okay."

With that, we drove off, and for the first time in a long while, the air between us felt lighter.

The date was set for Saturday night, and Steve assured me it would be nothing fancy—just something casual. That eased my nerves a bit. I pulled on a simple sweater and jeans, slipping into my sneakers.

Standing before the mirror, I took in my reflection. I had neglected myself for so long, and it showed. My skin was pale, with dark circles under my eyes, and my hair had lost its usual shine. I barely recognized the person staring back at me.

My eyes drifted to the vanity, where my makeup had been collecting dust for months. I hesitated for a moment, then sat down in front of it, determined to make an effort this time. I didn’t know where Steve was taking me, but I wanted to feel like myself again—or at least try. Besides, Steve always drew attention wherever we went, and for once, I wanted to look like I belonged beside him.

I started small, brushing on some foundation, a bit of blush to add life to my pale cheeks, and some mascara to open up my tired eyes. By the time I was finished, I almost felt like a different person—like a version of me that hadn’t been so broken.

When I stood up, I ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing it down as best as I could. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an effort, and for tonight, that would have to be enough.

I walked out of the bedroom, and the way Steve’s smile lit up when he saw me made my heart flutter for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Is this outfit okay? I can change..." I asked nervously, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater.

He looked me up and down, his gaze soft and appreciative. "You are perfect," he said simply, his voice full of warmth. He reached for my hand, his touch steady and reassuring. "Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes full of a gentle excitement.

I nodded, squeezing his hand in return.

We drove for about an hour, and no matter how many times I asked, Steve wouldn't give me a hint about where we were going. Eventually, he parked in what looked like an unfamiliar neighborhood. There were no restaurants, no shops—just rows of suburban homes.

Steve got out of the car and opened my door, offering his hand to help me out. I stepped onto the pavement, glancing around in confusion. "What is this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He just smiled, his fingers intertwining with mine as he led me away from the houses, toward an open field further back, far from the nearest home. As we walked, I spotted it—a picnic blanket laid out on the grass, surrounded by lanterns glowing softly in the evening light. A basket sat beside it, filled with what I could only assume was dinner.

"Courtesy of Natasha," Steve said with a grin as he sat me down on the blanket.

I looked around, my heart warming at the thoughtfulness of it all. It wasn't some extravagant gesture, but something much more intimate and meaningful. "This is perfect," I whispered, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and hope.

"I'm glad you like it," Steve replied, handing me a glass of red wine with a smile.

"Thank you," I said, taking a sip as he began to serve food onto our plates. There were mini sandwiches, a Caprese salad, and mini quiches, and I even spotted a cheesecake nestled in the basket.

I looked around, still curious. "It's really cute and all, Steve, but why here?" I asked. "We could’ve done this in Prospect Park."

Leaning on his elbow, he took a bite of his sandwich, grinning as if he was hiding something. "Do you like the area?" he asked, avoiding my question.

I glanced around again, taking in the open field, the quiet, and the homes in the distance. "I mean, it's peaceful. There’s no one around, but... I don’t even know this neighborhood," I replied, confused but intrigued by his sudden shift in conversation.

He smiled wider, clearly enjoying the suspense, and I began to wonder what he was up to.

He straightened up, his face suddenly serious. "I bought this piece of land. It’s ours," he said, watching me closely for my reaction.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You did what?"

It wasn’t entirely shocking—he had talked about getting a house someday—but I hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

"I want to build a house here," he continued, a bit nervous. "It’s a great neighborhood, and the offer was too good to pass up. But if you really hate it, I can sell it... I just didn’t want to buy something already built. I wanted it to be perfect for us. I even talked to an architect. He’s ready to take all your ideas and make them happen and—" He was rambling, his excitement lighting up his face, even in the dim glow of the lanterns.

I could see how much this meant to him, how much hope he had pinned on this dream of ours.

Seeing him like this, so full of hope and determination for our future, sparked something inside me—something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, I could heal too. With him by my side, it felt possible.

Without thinking, I leaned forward, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him mid-sentence. His eyes widened in surprise for a brief second before he melted into the kiss, his arms wrapping around me. We held each other close, kissing under the moonlight, in the place that would one day be our home.

Next Chapter

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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celestiaras · 2 years ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ his sick darling]❜

ft. hex haywire x gn! reader — xsoleil, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ after losing some parts of your memory for unknown reasons, you seek treatment but your therapist knows a lot more than he lets on┊1.1k words

contains: yandere, malpractice/abuse of power, toxic relationships, manipulation, mentions of reader having family problems & mental illness, talks of violence & murder

➤ author's note: there was a time when my girlfriend and i had the same therapist

therapist! hex haywire whom you click with immediately like a best friend. you were nervous about going to therapy for the first time ever, but his office was so cozy with a comforting ambiance— soothing music playing in the background to drown out any possibly distracting outside noises, a cup of warm sweetened hibiscus tea (which happened to be your favorite brand and flavor), and a fluffy knitted blanket just in case you got cold since he didn’t have control over the building’s air conditioning. his calming deep voice and friendly smile made you feel welcome, calming any anxious feelings you had beforehand within mere minutes of meeting him. there wasn’t any way to explain it, but you felt like you could trust him with your life.

therapist! hex haywire who has so much in common with you! he didn’t want to jump into the serious things in the first session so he asked about your interests to ease any tensions, and surprisingly, he was knowledgeable about everything you brought up. he knew the characters of your favorite series, the theories about your favorite movies, the hidden symbolism of your favorite books, and even the details of media that you weren’t a fan of as if you shared the same recommendations on your streaming services and the same paperback novels on your bookshelves. it was the first time that you could remember where you freely spoke about the things you liked without the worry of being annoying or boring because he genuinely seemed invested in the conversation with you and even seemed disappointed when the timer went off, promising to continue next time.

therapist! hex haywire who feels oddly familiar to you. you can’t quite place your finger on it, you feel like you’ve met him before— maybe in high school or at a party since it would be difficult to forget a face like his, but when you brought it up, he insisted that you could find someone who looks like him at any college campus or library if you paid attention. him knowing so much about your interests was just a coincidence— you know how algorithms work these days with feeding content that fits your tastes perfectly, it isn’t too far-fetched for it to match up! besides, aren’t you happy to have a therapist whom you could bond with so quickly without needing to hop around to find the perfect one?

therapist! hex haywire who always knows exactly what to say when you are feeling down, jotting down notes on his clipboard while comforting you with that silver tongue of his. you’re so frustrated since it feels like it’s been forever since you started, but no noticeable progress has been made. you still have no idea why your memory is so patchy, desperate to know about your past so that you can soothe your curiosity and move on with your life no matter how scary or disturbing it may have been. he’ll reach out to hold your hand under his large one, rubbing circles into the skin and reminding you that everyone heals in different ways and different paces but he promises that he’ll be there with you every step.

therapist! hex haywire who makes your heart flutter even though it’s incredibly improper for a patient to think this way towards a caretaker. he’s handsome, around your age, extremely kind, and knows you better than you know yourself so isn’t it natural as humans to feel attraction in such a situation? it would have been a smart choice to just look for someone else since it’s a clear violation of unspoken rules, but you were already crushing hard and you also didn’t want to restart all of the progress you already made with him over the past few months. surely, it’s just a little puppy crush that will die down on its own, right?

yandere therapist! hex haywire who knows you better than anyone else, even better than your own family whom you ran away from before seeking solace in your relationship with him. you don’t remember, but he certainly does— spending every waking moment thinking about you, every second spent with you, and every word that leaves your lips from the present to the first moment he laid eyes on you.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who’s surprised that you don’t remember him at all after the incident, but is more than pleased to start his new story in your book while leaving the previous pages to remain lost due to your memory loss. although he doesn’t want them to be just lost, he wants them scorched and far past restoration— gone is the psycho ex-boyfriend with flags redder than the blood he spilled for you, and now is the kind therapist who will accompany you in your time of need before eventually blurring the lines of professionalism.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who already knows about your growing attraction to him from your body language: how you’re subconsciously drawn to him, how you mirror his body language, how you inch closer to him when seated— it makes him smile to himself knowing that his charms are working on you just as well as it did when you first got together back then.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who takes advantage of how gullible you are to alienate yourself from the disgusting vermin that you naively call friends so that you’ll depend on him even more, preying on your insecurities and habits of overthinking to make you doubt the ones around you. it’s surprising how much a passing comment from a weekly session could negatively impact your viewpoint about your friends, but it’s only to be expected with someone who has been studying human psychology as extensively as he has.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who faked being shocked when you entered his office one day after fighting with your best friend, all teary-eyed and sniffing while hiding your face from him out of embarrassment. of course, he knew that this would happen, already having a box of tissues out and already predicting how the conversation would go. it took nothing to get you to dance into the palm of his hand, but it was one of the infinite reasons why he loved you so much.

yandere therapist! hex haywire who thinks that maybe getting caught by you while sticking a kitchen knife through the heart of your (then) current lover was perhaps a blessing in disguise. there will never be any words in any language to describe the panic he went through when you fainted and hit your head, but everything worked out perfectly fine. patience is a virtue and he would wait thousands of years if that was what it took to hold you in his arms again, but luckily for him, it was much closer than he thought.

#📜. her works #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #xsoleil #xsoleil x reader #hex haywire #hex haywire x reader #tw: yandere #tw: blood & violence

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eddysocs · 6 months ago

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Mistletoe Mischief — Ted Lasso x OC

Summary: When Ted starts playing around with mistletoe, Matilda goes out of her way to make it difficult for him to kiss her.

Word Count: 972

Warnings: Pure fluff

The AFC Richmond offices were buzzing with festive energy. Twinkling fairy lights adorned every surface, and the christmas tree in the corner glowed with warm white lights, decorated with baubles and tinsel, as christmas music played in the background, hardly heard over the din of the team and its staff.

Ted Lasso stood in the center of it all, wearing a red sweater with “Believe in Santa” stitched across the chest in bold white lettering, a Santa hat cocked at an angle, and a sprig of mistletoe dangling from his fingers.

Matilda Northbrook leaned against the far wall, more keen on observing the festivities than fully participating. She had her notebook out, ready to jot down any amusing anecdotes that may transpire as the night wore on. But right now she was focused on watching Ted parade around the room with his mistletoe like a kid with a new toy. She liked Ted, of course, more than liked him at this point, but he was also relentless when it came to spreading Christmas cheer.

“Careful, Mattie,” came Keeley’s voice as she sidled up next to her. “He’s already claimed three victims, and I don’t think he’s slowing down.”

She’d already seen the evidence. She watched as he managed to sneak up on three Richmond players so far, giving each a quick peck on the cheek before dashing off. “I’ll take my chances,” Matilda replied, though her pulse quickened when Ted turned toward them, his eyes zeroing in.

“Matilda!” Ted’s voice carried easily over the chatter, and the crowd parted just enough for her to see him striding over, mistletoe raised like a trophy. Keeley quickly made her exit. “I don’t believe I’ve caught you under this yet.”

Her heart skipped, but she squared her shoulders, setting her notebook on the table and crossing her arms. “And you’re not going to, Lasso.”

Ted grinned, undeterred. “Come on, where’s your christmas spirit?” Ted took another step forward, the twinkle in his eye unmistakable. “Not even one little peck on the cheek? It’s Christmas, Tildy. You gotta let the season work its magic.”

“Nope.”

“C’mon.”

“No,” she reiterated, but her tone remained light. She was just being stubborn and they both knew it.

Aiming for the element of surprise, Ted lunged, holding the mistletoe high above his head. Matilda squeaked and darted around the table, earning a burst of laughter from the team as they watched the beginnings of this merry mistletoe showdown.

“She’s fast,” Jamie remarked, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

“Faster than Ted at least,” Roy grunted, though the corners of his mouth twitched, getting a kick out of watching the two of them.

“I’m just here to spread some holiday joy, Miss Northbrook,” Ted tried to reason.

“Well, Mister Lasso, spread it somewhere else," she told him, but the smile that was lighting up her face told him that their game was still very much on.

Ted’s grin grew wider, and before Matilda could dart away again, he blocked her and held the mistletoe just out of her reach, waving it tauntingly.

Now, more members of the team had stalled their conversations to watch, but neither Matilda nor Ted realized the audience they were gaining.

Matilda narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a determined line. “Give me that.” If she could secure the stupid little plant, this would all be over.

“Come and get it,” Ted challenged.

Without thinking, Matilda lunged for the mistletoe. Ted anticipated her move, raising it higher, and her sudden momentum sent her colliding into him.

“Oof!” Ted stumbled back, catching her by the waist to steady them both.

“Not fair!” Matilda protested, trying to wrestle the mistletoe from his hand. “Give it to me!”

“You gotta work for it!”

Matilda growled in exasperation, but laughter quickly bubbled up to replace it as an idea dawned on her. She grabbed at Ted’s sides and began tickling him mercilessly.

Ted yelped, twisting and squirming. “Oh no—now that’s playing dirty, Northbrook!”

“Give me the mistletoe, Lasso!”

“No way!” He gasped, laughing so hard he nearly dropped it.

She took advantage of his momentary distraction and lunged again, knocking him off balance until they both tumbled onto the couch. Ted’s hat fell off, and Matilda finally managed to snatch the mistletoe out of his hand.

“Victory,” she crowed, holding it up like a prize.

Ted laid sprawled beneath her, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. “You cheated.”

“All’s fair in love and mistletoe,” she joked.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice softer now.

Matilda’s breath hitched as the weight of the moment settled in. She was still half on top of him, the mistletoe dangling between them. Ted’s hands rested lightly on her waist, and his eyes were warm, bright, and unflinchingly sincere as they met hers.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her smile faltering.

Ted’s hand moved to brush a strand of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. “Guess that means it’s my turn to win.”

Before she could argue, he leaned in, and Matilda met him halfway, letting herself melt into the kiss. It was soft at first, almost hesitant, but then Ted pulled her closer, and her fingers grabbed at his sweater as the room around them seemed to disappear.

A loud wolf whistle from Isaac shattered the moment, and they broke apart, both flushed, but laughing breathlessly.

“Finally,” Keeley shouted.

“About time,” added Jamie.

Matilda groaned, burying her face in Ted’s shoulder while he gave an exaggerated wave to their cheering audience.

“Well,” Ted said, still grinning as he turned back to her. “I think we just gave Richmond a new holiday tradition.”

Matilda rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Merry Christmas, Ted.”

“Merry Christmas, Tildy.”

And with that, he stole one more kiss. This time, with no mistletoe required.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @immyowndefender

#oc: matilda northbrook #fc: mandy moore #fd: ted lasso #matilda x ted #ted lasso #ted lasso x oc

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strxwberrybtch · 1 year ago

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A Hellish Love Story // Pt. 1

Pairing(s): Vox x F!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol and Drugs

A/N: Hello my lovies! This is my first fic here on tumblr- it's a little short butttt I'm hoping to make this a multi-part series. This will definitely be a NSFW series with eventual smut ;) I would love to hear your input on this first part! Without further ado, enjoy :)

---

In life, the art of literature enthralled you. It captivated you in more ways than one. The way that words could transport you to another place completely fascinated you. At first, you treated it as a hobby or one could argue a distraction. One to drown out the harsh words that your parents constantly threw back and forth at each other.

It was no surprise that you found yourself constantly with a pen and paper in hand, jotting down your never ending ideas. You started taking it more seriously once you started high school. Normal english classes didn't excite you as much as the creative writing course did. Once you were done with school, you began to devote your young adulthood to writing. You quickly found a sufficient job and instantly got to work. All you wanted was to do was share your creative visions with the world. You wanted people to feel the passion and emotion that you felt while writing it.

It was a somewhat peaceful day at the shitty office you worked at. You had pulled an all nighter the night before working on a screenplay. Not just any screenplay though. This had to of been your best work yet. It was your ticket out of the slums and to the big leagues. This was your chance.

You sat in your tiny cubicle typing your heart away. Solely relying on caffeine and adderall- which you may or may not have abused from time to time. But this was your livelihood, your purpose in life if you will. The sun had slowly began to set at the office. Many of your fellow peers were chit-chatting about their plans for the weekend. You easily tuned them out as you focused on the writing in front of you. Feeling a wave of tiredness, you popped another pill into your mouth- washing it down with your coffee. The adrenaline and thought of being so close to being finished had you eager and motivated. You almost didn’t acknowledge the loud screech of the building’s fire alarm.

Apparently a fire had broken out and quickly began to ensue absolute chaos within the building. Of course with the building being in a not so fortunate area- the sprinklers had stopped working years ago. While your coworkers scrambled to escape the ever growing deadly smoke and flames, you stayed behind at your desk. You anxiously gnawed at your nails, waiting for your files to download onto a usb drive. You cursed at yourself for getting carried away with writing and not saving throughout the day as you usually did. Your career's future was on that computer. You’d rather die than lose it all.

Unfortunately that’s where your human life had come to a fiery end, engulfed in the flames along with your life’s work. So you assume that’s why you ended up with fiery, crimson eyes and the ability to manipulate fire. Ironic.. in a shitty sorta way. Scratch that… a very shitty way.

After seeing ‘Writers Wanted’ at the end of a VoxTek commercial, your heart fluttered at the thought of pursuing your passion in the afterlife. Hell, you did die for it so you might as well give your death meaning. You quickly memorized the address and beelined it to the VVV tower.

Given your obvious passion for the job, you were immediately hired by a higher up employee, of course with the quick text of approval from Vox. After getting a brief job description, you were over the moon excited. Writing scripts for TV, like are you kidding?? You had spent your entire mortal life trying to get to that point in your career. Who woulda thought all it took was well… your life.

You didn’t have think twice before signing over your soul to the demon overlord. Why would you? Selling your soul in exchange for your dream job was an easy decision. Especially since it came with great pay and an apartment to live in.

As for Vox though, you really never saw him too much. When you did he always gave a charming smile your way which you kindly reciprocated. He was undeniably attractive, even with a TV for a head.

Whilst working at the V tower you were able to meet the one and only adult star, Angel Dust. He quickly introduced you to Cherri Bomb, and boom (no pun intended) your trio of friendship was born.

It’s been a few years since then and that’s how you ended up here, sitting at your desk aimlessly typing away listening to a very whiny spider demon.

“Come onnnn Y/N!! We haven’t gone out in forever and we both have the night off for once” Angel exasperated, throwing his arms up into the air, desperately trying to convince you to go out with himself and Cherri.

You sighed quietly to yourself knowing this wasn’t going to end soon. He had been going on and on about how you work too much and haven’t been able to have fun for the past 20 minutes now. You rubbed your temples and took off your blue light glasses. Quickly closing your laptop and spinning around in your chair, you were met with Angel laying upside down on your bed, with his head hanging off the side.

“Okay! Fine! You win! And you shouldn’t lay like that,” You laughed while leaning down to lightly flick his forehead.

Angel swatted your hand away and sat up. Though you could tell he did it too fast after he placed a hand to his head, feeling dizzy from all the blood rushing back to the rest of his body. All you could do was shake your head and smile at the goof.

“HAHA YES!! I’ll text Cherri and let her know. Now get your ass up outta that chair and get ready! Show them what all of hell’s been missin lately,” He winked and quickly picked up his phone to message the missing piece to our trio.

You rolled your eyes briefly and went into your bathroom to make yourself look presentable.

“Can you find me something to wear pretty pleaseee!” You shouted from the bathroom.

“Oh you know I gotcha toots,” By hearing the muffled tone of his voice you could just tell he was smirking. You had a feeling you’d regret asking for his help but quickly shook the thought away. Angel was right. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you went out with your two troublemaker friends. It had to of been at least a few months. You needed this.

You deserved this.

With one last glance at your bare, tired face you got to work. Seeing as it had been forever, you decided to go all out. It took only about an hour or so for you to be satisfied with your hair and makeup. Once finished you came out of your bathroom to see Angel was no longer on your bed. However replacing him was the outfit he had picked out for you.

A simple black crop top, the shortest denim skirt you owned, a silver chain belt that connected with hearts, and to top it all off a pair of black chunky heeled boots. He knew you all too well.

After putting on the outfit you stared at yourself in the mirror. You almost didn’t recognize the reflection in front of you. It reminded you of when you were in high school. Sure you were addicted to writing but your living friends were a little bit of a bad influence, much like the ones you have now. They had convinced you to get a fake id so that you could go clubbing with them. And to be honest, you were glad they did. Who would’ve wanted to miss out on a early 2000’s club scene? You had a lot of fun during that time. Yet, that’s the very place you discovered the drug that got you through pretty much the rest of your living life.

A smile began to spread across your face as you checked yourself out. The outfit accentuated every part of your body perfectly. Out of all the time you’ve spent in hell, this was undoubtedly the best you had ever looked. With one last once over in the mirror, you turned off your bedroom lights and went to find Angel.

It didn’t take long to find him sprawled out on your couch with his phone in hand. A VoxTech sitcom played quietly on your tv in the background.

“You ready to go?” He asked without looking up once he heard you enter the living room.

“What do you think?” You questioned him with a coy smile.

He quickly glanced up at you and dropped his phone onto his lap. In an instant he was standing in front of you.

“Holy shit toots! I knew you were good looking but this makes me question my own sexuality,” He said in a teasingly, seductive voice as he twirled you around.

“Shut up loser,” You laughed, shoving his shoulder.

��I’m just speaking the truth! But come on Cherri is already there,”

You turned off everything and locked your apartment. You held onto the door knob for a moment before taking a deep breath and letting go to trail after Angel.

---

It wasn’t long before you and Angel arrived at Club 666, one of the Pride Ring’s most popular clubs owned by your boss’s situationship, Valentino. You never really came across the moth man while you were at work, only hearing stories from Angel Dust. Some of the stories were good but the majority… not so much. It's pretty safe to say, you don't want to cross him while he's in one of his moods.

After climbing out of the cab, your hands found the hem of your skirt almost instantly. You hastily pulled down the short material that had ridden up your thighs on the way there, almost flashing the black lace panties you decided to wear. Once situated outside of the club, hand in hand, you and Angel made your way into the booming club. After fighting your way through the seemingly never ending crowd, you spot Cherri at the bar downing a shot with a group of random sinners, not very surprising.

She perks up at the sight of you and Angel, waving her hand in the air with a toothy grin.

“There you fuckers are! I thought you up and ditched me for a second there,” She said quickly pulling Angel into a tight hug. Once she got to you she paused for a moment with both her hands on your shoulders.

“Holy shit Y/N, you look hot!!” She exclaimed examining every part of you.

“Awe thanks Cherri,” You smiled and brought her into a warm hug.

“Hey! How come when I complimented you earlier I got shoved?!” Angel asked with his arms crossed.

“Because I’m used to your flirty compliments,” You laughed as his pouty expression slowly turned into a sly smile.

He brushed his hair back and huffed out, “Point taken. Alright enough bullshit. Let’s get this party started bitches!”.

---

You had lost track of how many shots you and your friends had taken. You knew it had to of been a lot though with how much the club was spinning. It wasn’t spinning in a bad way though. Sure you’d feel like shit in the morning but at this point you didn’t care. The lights of the dance floor strobed bright green as it flashed through the fog. You felt euphoric and giddy as you danced alongside Cherri.

Angel had ditched you both pretty early on once he noticed Val. He took place under one of Valentino’s lengthy arms. Even in your drunken state, you glanced over a few times to make sure he was okay. And from what you observed he was laughing with a fellow star, taking in the moth’s red smoke. Cherri broke you out of your worry as she tapped on your shoulder.

“I’m gonna go grab another round yeah? Want one?” She slurred with a lazy smile, shouting over the intense music.

You thought for a brief moment before slightly slurring back, "Sure why not!"

You watched as her form slowly disappeared through the sea of dancing, sweaty bodies. Feeling the music, you felt yourself truly let loose. This was the most fun you had in a very long time. A dazed smile found its way across your lips as you swayed your body to the beat of the music. You danced without a care in the world. As if nobody was watching.

However, someone was watching.

From a secluded area of the club, a certain TV demon sat with a drink in one of his clawed hands...

Watching your every move.

///

AHHHH I really hope you guys enjoyed this first part. I wrote it in one sitting... oops XD. Let me know what you think!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x fem reader #vox x y/n #vox the tv demon #vox #f!reader #x reader #fem reader #angel dust #cherri bomb #imagine #fanfic

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pulledpurplecurtains · 8 months ago

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Your tags to the writing down tip made me curious about your writing process. How do you get ideas, and if so, what do you do with them?? (Immediately write, let it simmer, find more vibes etc) 🤔

boy oh boy okay

so i get ideas from anything and anywhere really - but that’s not specific enough nor is it exactly accurate. i don’t get ideas from music, or visual arts, but from written words and texts, whether shorter or longer and of whichever nature (tumblr posts, discord convos, literature, theoretical books etc) and also from real life situations or desires aka day dreams. that’s how the organic process goes, and another part of it is me just literally sitting and minding my own business while an idea just pops up into my head out of the literal ether of the universe or something, in which cases i also have the strongest desire out of all the above cases to actually put words on paper and make something out of my thoughts

that’s how a poem came to be last year, while i was just sitting on my couch drinking my morning coffee it just poured out of me so quickly and so suddenly i just had to use my phone’s notes (which i never do, i use hand written notes for my writing) and i quickly had a first draft of an entire poem - and i’m still baffled by the ferocity of that process

anyway, another way that works well is free writing and connotational exercises. i don’t use that method often just bc i’m not a professional writer so i don’t need to fulfil a quota of daily writing or idea generation in a set amount of time, however i did practise it last year for college and it was highly effective. so in case the terms are unfamiliar, free writing is you setting a set amount of time and literally just putting pen to paper and unleashing your genuine stream of consciousness without thinking of what you’re thinking at all. a slight variation is first selecting a theme and then recording your stream of thought regarding that. connotational writing starts with a word or idea, in brief wording, in a circle in the middle of your paper. you then follow your thought process in recording connected ideas (connotations) in adjacent circles that move outwards. once you seem to have exhausted the one particular path of connotations you return to your original thought and start another path of connected ideas, and so on.

what i usually do is much simpler: i don’t do anything 😂 i’m so bad with following through and actually writing stuff when i don’t have to or don’t have the luxury of time to. however when i do write, i usually will have jotted down my thoughts up to a point of the outline if the thoughts have come organically to me as above, and those thoughts will generate other thoughts and other thoughts, as i’m making the outline. and then eventually i’ll write it in a comprehensive continuous text i suppose lmao or i’ll start editing the poem draft that came out of that process (i only do drafts for poems, for prose i write completed texts that will only need minor edits because it’s impossible for my brain to have such an expansive “incomplete” work). fic writing has always been very different for me because i’d get a general idea and the desire to write and then extremely consciously i’d create a first draft inside my head/basic outline on paper. but then, with fic, the inspiration would come while writing and many times scenes have just completely taken a life of their own and turned out completely differently than i’d planned - or scenes have happened that i never planned at all. so fic writing is more organized and more chaotic at the same time but in different ways than original writing and poetry

i do also however have still fragments of ideas jotted down on papers on my desk that haven’t evolved into outlines of anything. and i think it’s important to consciously keep yourself in the mindset of thinking and recording your thoughts, because when i was in it i was more aware of recordable thoughts to jot down

#does this even answe the questions i’m not sure sfghjdgg #thank you for this ask!! i’m late for work but it so nice to think and talk abt LMAO #ask #mcrololo

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crowttore · 5 months ago

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Studying with Anaxa always has a way of settling you both into a quiet atmosphere of pages turning and the occasional scrawl of a pen whenever something piques your interest. The words would be quickly cast in shadow as the candles start to flicker with a passing breeze, but that hardly stops you from writing out the rest of what you were trying to jot down before it escapes you.

Your fingers tighten around your pen, trying to keep a solid grasp on it when you write out the word 'deliberately' over a dark sheet only for Anaxa to reach over and move the candlestick so it was between you. All without a word.

You couldn't help the way your eyes flicked over at him, a gentle smile already on your lips as you prepare to thank him, only to stop short when you notice him picking off the bit of wax that had dripped onto his gloves...and the flush that was coating his cheeks as he tried to ignore just how good that slight sting felt before the wax had once again cooled down.

So anyway, my idea here is wax play. Enjoy.

#RISSE THIS IS UNFAIR #brand new kink awakening smh #sobs sniffles expect to hear from me today <33 #cw wax play #screaming at the murder #part of the murder risse

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clumsiestgiantess · 2 years ago

Text

The seventh chapter of the Other-world Universe; Alexis tries her best to make amends.

all chapters linked here

[Progress is progress, I guess]

You don’t know how hard I tried to stay away, but the small world in the basement was just too fascinating to leave for long. It was like fate, or maybe just my brother wanting to play, was drawing me back. Despite this, I never set foot near anywhere I thought Erica might be. I wanted to stay true to my word, after all.

Every once and a while, when I was bored, I would go off and explore, though. Constantly, I would wander through the mountains where I found the climber, wondering if he’d left or if I just kept missing him. While walking through the area where I’d first arrived, I came across a beautiful lake, cut off from the rest of the world by the jagged mountains surrounding it. Another time, after hiking for three days, I finally found a beach. It wasn’t an ocean beach, like I wanted, but rather a large lake; from my tall height, I could faintly see the other side. Still, it was a beach, and I didn’t want to hike further than that anyways. To get all the way out there I’d packed a bag full of food, water, and a sleeping bag, invisibly camping anywhere that was large enough for me. Thankfully I only needed to walk the way there. To get back, all I had to do was return to my world, think about the open field, and I'd be there.

During those three days, as I carefully trekked through forests and fields away from civilization, I was blinded by a flash of light from above. After shielding my eyes from the initial glare, I fought to look up. I only managed to catch the tail end of the strange phenomenon. What looked like a bolt of empty black lightning split the air, but instead of fading away like normal lightning, it hovered in the sky for a long moment. Then, the jagged streak vanished as quickly as it came. I had no idea what the strange lightning-esque flash had been, but I didn’t give it too much thought. It could’ve been any number of things. The dark zigzag could’ve been a blank spot in my vision after the strange bright light. For all I know, the other-world might actually have a weird type of black lightning. I ignored it and carried on.

I had a lot more free time to spend in the other-world now that I wasn’t looking after Erica 24-7, so I used the extra hours not only for adventuring, but to map out the city and everything around it. Eventually, I hoped to have a map of all the buildings that shared a twin in my world, as well as how far the limits of the playtable actually reached.

See, the buildings on the table in my world weren’t a perfect match to the ones there; the other-world had almost twice as many thanks to all the residential areas that were basically nonexistent in my own world. All the twin buildings I'd come across so far were always somewhat important places, and I'd slowly been jotting all of them down. My brother and I hadn't aimed to make a perfect little city, after all. It made sense that a few of the lesser important details were omitted from our building project.

At first, Liam had wanted to make the playtable a complete mishmash of dinosaurs and cool superhero fortresses, but thankfully I'd managed to talk him out of it. I wonder how differently my first day would've gone if I'd let Liam stick with his original plan. How much of the other-world inhabitants' lives would we have altered without even knowing it? What if we took everything off the table and started over right now with a completely new theme, like an alien planet or a giant amusement park? Would everyone here just vanish like the city had never existed, or would they be forced to live completely new lives in whatever we'd created? If they did, would they even remember their old ones?

That train of thought was getting a little too existential for my liking. I shook myself off, forcing my brain to backtrack to what I was doing prior to the rabbit hole I'd briefly fallen down. I scanned the paper in my hands for a moment. Right, I was looking for twin buildings in the city. My need for a list of similar buildings first came with the slightly obvious realization that the three-pronged skyline in the other-world — which I assumed was the same as the four-pronged one in my world from a weird angle — actually only had three prongs. I’d walked around the other-world long enough to see the city from numerous angles, and all of them had three tall needles that stuck out from the tops of skyscrapers, not four. Immediately, I needed a new reason to believe the cities were the same. They have to be the same. Why else would I be here?

The twin buildings became my new proof. Though the cities didn’t look exactly alike, they each had the same grid layout, and facilities like a town hall, an aquarium, a museum, banks and gas stations, those sorts of things. It was a lot easier said than done, getting to everything. I couldn’t even get close to the more populated areas unless I was attached to someone.

Ever since the fight with Erica, I'd sworn off controlling people. However, I did still use them for intangibility; I just didn’t force them to do anything while I was latched on. It felt like I was making excuses to continue messing with them, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I could either continue using the other-world people for intangibility, or go back to accidentally crushing almost everything in my path. Obviously, I chose the former.

I'd already gotten a decent number of buildings jotted down with the help of a few oblivious puppets, when I felt something tugging at me. I don't know how else to explain it. I imagine the feeling's similar to the force between two magnets passing by, skating just close enough to feel the pull of the other half without actually touching it. Stopping in the middle of writing down another contender for my list, I followed the absurd feeling toward a congested street corner. I stood there for almost ten minutes looking for the source of my odd state.

Finally, I caught sight of someone below me looking confusedly around in the exact way I did. I really should've expected my 'other half' to be Erica. I’d felt this feeling a few times before while searching for her. It seemed to be a side effect of her being under my control for far too long. For a brief moment, I reached out to latch onto her before recoiling away as she spun around with a furious glare that made me think twice. Oh, she can sense I'm here too.

I could tell Erica readily wanted to berate me by the infuriated way she was glaring at the empty alleyway I stood in. However, she would look like she'd lost her mind if she started cursing out an empty side street, so she kept quiet. Erica stood in thought for a moment before inconspicuously gesturing to the park down the street on the opposite side of the road. I understood; she was still intent on talking to me, just in a more out-of-the-way place. Begrudgingly, I stepped over to the park in three long strides and waited patiently for Erica to walk the two blocks over there.

When she finally arrived, Erica sat on a bench to the side of an empty field and caught her breath. I chuckled despite every ounce of common sense I had. She jogged over here for six minutes just to catch up with the three steps I'd taken. "Is something funny to you?" Erica asked annoyedly. "Sorry," I whispered. I needed to keep my voice as quiet as possible so no one else would hear me and wonder why they were hearing voices in the air. "It's nothing. How have you been?" I tried to change the subject, but Erica saw right through me. Literally. "Oh, I'm doing much better now that I'm not a puppet anymore," she quipped sarcastically, "I sure hope you weren't about to do something incredibly stupid to change that." I sighed, "I wouldn't've actually made you do anything. I meant it as.. a tap on the shoulder. To say hi." Erica huffed out a half-laugh that somehow radiated the opposite of laughter.

"You told me you were leaving," she said pointedly, "Why bother lying to me? Can't you just make me forget about you?" "I didn't lie! I said I'd leave you alone from now on. I never said I'd leave your world.” "So running into me was a coincidence, was it?" "Yes." "Liar." "No, I swear it is! I've never even seen you in this part of the city. Why would I come here to control you if I know where you live?" Do I even know where she lives? I thought to myself. Last I saw of her she was packing up her things to leave.

Erica sat silently for a moment, "Then, why are you over here?" "I could ask you the same thing." "You first." It was fascinating, really. For someone so small, Erica had somehow managed to back me into a corner. I wasn't lying to her, I honestly hadn't intended to find Erica there, but at the same time I couldn't tell her the truth about what I was doing, either. If I did, I'd have to reveal the unnerving truth about her world being fake. That moment in the middle of the city probably wasn't the best time to explain everything. I could see it in her; the way she hid her fear behind a mask of anger and sarcasm. Erica knew all too well that I could puppeteer her again right then and there if I wanted, and she couldn't do anything to stop me. I could only imagine what might happen if I told her the whole truth of everything I could mess with. Not just her.

So, instead of tearing down her view of the entire world, I lied in the truest way possible. "I'm here because I was mapping out the city. With all my new free time, I've been wandering around searching for neat places and marking them down." Erica stared into the open space where I sat, still unconvinced. "Prove it." I hesitated for a second, then slid the unfinished map out my pocket and unfolded it on the ground.

Once I was sure no one was nearby, I let the paper go and it slowly faded into view. I could hear the breath hitch in Erica's throat as a map the size of her old apartment appeared from thin air. She stepped off the bench and onto the grass to examine my evidence. "What do these X's mean?" she asked, pointing to a few buildings that had been sketched with two slashes over them. "Those are the places I want to revisit once I finish the map." Obviously I wasn't going to tell her they were really marking the twin buildings. I quickly folded the piece of paper back up, causing it to vanish again. I didn't want her looking it over for too long, just in case I'd jotted something down that had to do with her world.

Finally convinced I wasn't out there just to stalk her, Erica gave me a satisfied nod and returned to the park bench to collect her things. "Hold on," I whispered before she could leave, "It's your turn to tell me what you're doing over here." "I.." Erica hesitated, slowly turning back to me. She suddenly looked a lot more tired than she had a minute ago; her angry facade had dropped. "I'm lost. I went to a new hairstylist that opened in this side of the city, and now I have no clue where I parked the car. I know it was across the street from the aquarium, but I've only been there, like, once besides today." The aquarium was definitely on my map. In fact, it was one of the buildings that had a twin. "I know where it is," I ventured, "I could take you there if you like."

"You want to help me?" Erica asked coldly, "Gee, that sounds like a great idea. I'll just blindly accept your help like I did last time. Who knows, if I'm lucky I might end up as your little puppet by the end of the day." She hadn't even said all that much, but her words still stung regardless. I backed away guiltily and shifted onto my knees, ready to leave. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, "Shouldn't have asked." Erica sighed and I froze, partially standing. She looked up at me from beneath the leafy green trees that shaded the park. Though she couldn’t see me, she could still tell fairly well where I was. Slowly, I knelt back down as her expression clouded with confliction. Erica’s mouth opened and closed silently for a few minutes. I expected her to give me some speech about how it was wrong to do what I'd done to her, which I completely understood, but she surprised me. "Can I see that map one more time, please?"

If she had asked me to bring her the moon or the stars instead, I would've gladly done it. Anything to stop the gut wrenching guilt that whispered you're a monster over and over in my head. I'd been avoiding Erica for this reason as well. Whenever I saw her, or even thought about her, I felt the need to compensate for everything I'd done. Apparently, she felt as if I were trying to deceive her again, but that was far from the truth. I only wanted to prove that I could be better; for Erica, obviously, but for myself too. The image of her hanging terrified between my fingers over the cliffside refused to leave my head. Then there was that time I’d caught her in bed, crying.. presumably because of what I’d done to her.

I gladly spread the map out on the grass for Erica to examine. She mutely traced the path between the park we stood in and the aquarium without a single glance at me.

After an excruciatingly dead silence, she spoke. "Thank you, for helping me. I.. I think you're just trying to gain my trust, but- I'll trust you in my own time, you know?" I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. "Alright." Another heavy silence. "Can I take the map now?" Erica nodded and I stashed it away. "If it's alright with you," she interjected before I could leave, "You can get places a lot faster than I can. Would you mind waiting by my car until I get there? Just so I don't get lost again? We have this weird connection of some sort; I was thinking of using it like a compass." I was so shocked by her offer I forgot to reply. "It's fine if you don't want to. I mean, I did just rudely deny your help a moment ago." "No, I.. I'll meet you there."

Erica was right; it took me very little time to find the aquarium. I sat beside it, intangibly peering in at the sea lion show that was taking place when I'd arrived. Eventually, I could feel the magnet-esque tug that told me Erica was nearby. She glanced across the busy street at the space she assumed I was sitting in and mouthed thank you before driving off. I tried to shake away the gloomy guilt and instead thought through the positives. Miraculously, Erica was making an effort to be nice to me, despite my mistakes. Honestly, her talking to me at all was an improvement, so long as she wasn't hurting me with bitter words.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I bumped into Erica several times — all purely unintentionally. We both had things to do in similar places. Erica had errands to run and her job, and I wanted to map out the city where all those things were located. We never said much to each other. In fact, we couldn’t have a conversation of any kind without drawing attention to ourselves. However, Erica no longer suspected anything horrible of me. She’d nod knowingly in my direction, and we’d both continue on with our lives.

We’d only come close to talking once — when I happened to walk by as Erica was getting a parking ticket. The moment she sensed my presence, she began gesturing for me to deal with the officer every time their back was turned. I hesitated, wondering if it was a test to see if I would control them. Honestly, I think that was what she wanted, but I decided to deal with things differently. Returning to my world for a split second, I grabbed a single plastic bill and willed it to become 100 dollars as I stepped back through.

Thankfully, there was an empty lot on the other side of the road where I could appear without destroying anything. Erica looked beyond relieved when she sensed me re-appear. Cautiously, I reached out over her car and waited until the officer turned to their vehicle for something. The moment they did, I nudged her arm very lightly with one finger, opening my hand to reveal the fresh bill.

Just as I’d suspected, Erica seemed confused by my offer. She had wanted me to control them — likely to avoid being given a ticket at all. A moment later, she nodded at me, realizing that I was only trying to avoid what had made her so angry with me in the first place. I latched on to intangibility and stepped away, figuring that giving her the money she needed was enough interaction with her for the day. It was how I’d ended up in that situation in the first place, after all. I certainly didn’t want to repeat any of my mistakes.

Three weeks after the incident with the map, I officially heard from Erica again. By that time, I'd completely mapped out the city and had moved on to measuring how far the table in my world extended in this one. The scale was more than a little bit off, which both confused and frustrated me. I was passing by Erica's house, trying to determine how far the mountains were from the city with a distance tracker, when I noticed an arrow made from fallen branches in her yard. The arrow pointed to a large flat rectangle lying on the lawn. I slowed to examine it. Erica's car wasn't in the driveway, so I couldn't ask what the thing was, but it had 'to the giant' scrawled on it so I assumed it was for me. I picked up the rectangle of what seemed to be poster board and turned it over curiously.

It was a note, written out in large letters so I could read them without straining my eyes.

I don't know if you're ever coming back here, but if you find this I want you to know that-

The rest of the letter was written in slightly different penmanship, as though she'd stopped writing for a while before continuing with the rest.

I'm ready for us to meet up again. Just to be clear, this is NOT me forgiving you. I want to move on from what happened, and I hope you do too. After all, you were only trying to help me, albeit in a very backwards way. If you can find sometime for us to talk, I’m willing to.

It looked like Erica had tried to fit more onto the poster board, but ran out of room writing in a font big enough for me to read. My heart leapt faster in my chest as I re-read what she'd written. It had been a while since we'd talked, and even then, we'd never actually had a normal conversation. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as I thought! Remember, I thought to myself, trying to calm down, she hasn't forgiven you, so take it easy. One step at a time. You're overwhelming enough as it is. However small a step the note may be, progress is progress, and I was grateful for it.

#what was that weird lightning tho?#other-world universe #g/t #giant tiny

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