#IS THIS WHY PEOPLE GO INSANE OVER SIGNED BOOKS?????????

[yesokayiknow]

cannot believe that in 2007 the eighth doctor adventures writers just decided to put toxic yuri in their show. they did that for me

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVIII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 14,305 chapter warnings: alcohol consumption

Your month drags on. Despite the heightened activity around the farm, nothing much changes in your day-to-day schedule. You wake up at the same time, listen to Hongjoong ramble for the same amount of time, eat the same meals with the same people, and eventually sleep at the same time. Even book club is monotonous, barely even happening— but that might have more to do with the fact that Seonghwa (who conducts most of your lessons) seems even less enthused about having to spend an hour talking to you than you are. 

Which is strange— ish. Not that you expected much different from him, but you had thought that… or, well, at least, you weren’t feeling such a burning hatred for him anymore, so, maybe… 

But that’s silly. Of course Seonghwa still doesn’t give a rat's ass about you, why would he? All you’ve ever done is be a pain in his side. Even when he’s… comforted you in the past… its been to relieve his own discomfort or guilty conscious, not to actually help you. Probably.

You truly have no idea. Seonghwa is an enigma. 

In a way, though, you’re glad that he’s at least mostly off your case. Maybe due to your slight mental breakdown after seeing the… thing… Seonghwa seems to be less eager to poke fun at you. Not nice by any standards, but he’s certainly less devious around you. 

Which also means that he hasn’t been prying into your personal life. Thankfully. With the secret of your escape looming over your every thought, it would be just like you to accidentally slip-up in front of Seonghwa and blow the whole thing. 

Instead, he keeps things very formal. He doesn’t put his hands on you, he doesn’t stare at your face with that scrunched-up look, he doesn’t ask questions about you or your day or San or anything else. He talks to you about The Answer and lets you leave after. 

Though the arrangement is a bit startling at first, you get used to it quickly. Hongjoong appears less and less at these meetings, not even making an appearance in the last two weeks of the month. You have no idea what he could possibly be so busy doing, but you’re not complaining. 

Over the course of the month, there were several more rituals, similar to the tune of the one that you had participated in. Luckily, you were not called to participate in any of them, and no more— and your hesitant to even give whatever happened a name, but— Guardians appear to confuse and scare the everliving fuck out of you. 

More and more, you find yourself absentmindedly reaching to touch the pins on the collar of your shirt, fiddling with them whenever your hands are free. You want to think that it has nothing to do with Hongjoong’s bullshit about the Sign protecting you… and it doesn’t! Not at all! That would be crazy! It’s just a habit. Like spinning a ring or twisting a necklace. 

… You’ll go with that, anyways. 

Occasionally, you still have nightmares about your encounter. What a horrible night that all was. Obviously, there still is nothing in you that can believe that Guardians are real. That would be silly. And insane. But it’s only natural that you’re still upset about the whole situation. Whatever had happened, it had scared the shit out of you. It affected you— it makes sense that your subconscious would be fixated on such a traumatic memory. 

Right…? Or maybe you’re still actively thinking about that night and what the fuck had happened. Could it have been what Hongjoong said? Could he be right? Or were you blitzed out on some mysterious drug and everyone else was just lying about what they saw? Could Hongjoong manage that?

He probably could. It couldn’t be that hard for him to convince the entire cult into gaslighting you into believing that they had all seen the thing, too. But San… He wouldn’t lie to you about it, right? You find that very hard to believe. 

Thinking on it, San had, of course, never outright said that he had seen the same thing as you— you had never spoken in detail with him about it… But he was disturbed enough to set your escape into motion, which must count for something. Maybe he had seen a Guardian and was terrified enough to run. 

These sorts of thoughts dominate your month. 

You had volunteered to help out with the harvest, almost pleading with San for something to do. You were sure that Wooyoung would take your help back in the kitchens, but Hongjoong denied you any opportunity that seemed to come your way. He wanted you with San, where he could see you. 

Which is stupid, in your opinion. Hongjoong has the Followers, all of whom are incredibly devoted to him; any of them would give you up in a heartbeat if they saw you trying anything that you shouldn’t. He could assign literally anyone to watch you while you did a task, and it would achieve the same thing as having San at your side. But no. You were forced to rot in your apartment, glancing over San’s shoulder to his laptop on occasion, hoping to see something that could brighten your mood (or give you more information). 

Most of the time, you watch out your window, hoping to snag another glance at Mingi. There are a few times when you can see him in the field, but the Followers make quick work of the harvest nearest the compound, and move farther and farther away as the month rolls onward. Sometimes, you swear you can see his hair in the distance, reflecting the sun so brightly. It gets harder and harder to remember why you fought. Why you were holding a grudge. Could you really blame him for having your best interests at heart?

Sure, he had been a little possessive and freaky, but, like, he was kind of telling the truth. And he was just trying to make sure that San wasn’t hurting you.

You’re probably just making excuses for him, now, as you miss his company. Here you were, a cult member, locked away in an apartment, all for him— and you don’t even have him. You can’t even speak with him freely. The irony isn’t lost on you. 

Anyways, it doesn’t come as much of a shock when Hongjoong announces that the harvest is complete. Though the month might have been one of the longest of your life, watching the field workers get farther and farther away everyday at least gave you a sense of time passing. When even their tractors were tiny specks that you could hardly see without squinting, it was clear that the work was almost finished. 

The announcement is met with much fanfare, though you’re not sure why. From what you make of it, Halloween is always the date on which the harvest celebration occurs. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that the harvest is over, especially with the date looming so soon, but the Followers all seem overjoyed. Maybe they’re all just ready to relax after a long, toiling month. 

That said, the day itself comes much faster than you anticipated. Hongjoong made the announcement of the end of the Harvest on the 25th of the month, leaving six days between the sermon for celebration and the actual ceremony itself. 

Which left you with six days to finish your mental preparations for your escape. 

San had refined your plan over the month, including making a timeline of the night and the places you should find yourself. He took over the entire plan, which you really couldn’t be more thankful for. His knowledge of the farm and the workings of the cult provided a level of security that you would have never been able to achieve on your own. 

In essence, the plan remained the same. When the ceremonial party began at 6pm, you would have nothing to worry about… besides socializing for the next nine hours. Just follow the vibes, and you would be okay. San was sure that you would have free reign during the party, that you’d be allowed to be away from a higher-ups side once the alcohol was flowing. At three, you would meet with San near the front doors, trying to not be seen, and make your way into the woods beyond the compound, where San will have stashed your car in the days leading up to the ceremony (it was as he was telling you this that he admitted to having the keys to your car in his office this entire time). 

Despite the simplicity of the plan, you figured that it would probably work. As long as you didn’t raise any suspicions in the coming days, and as long as everything went smoothly on Halloween, there was no reason to dwell on the possibility of it failing. 

Another failed escape attempt was unlikely to be something that you would survive, you knew this. Even with Hongjoong’s delusional belief that you are someone important to him and his religion, you weren’t sure he could tolerate this level of disobedience— at the very least, it would be disastrous if you failed. At worst, you would be leading San and yourself to early graves. 

Maybe Hongjoong’s twisted dependence on you would mean that he couldn’t kill you… But you weren’t going to count on it. He had threatened your life in the past, and you were quite certain that he meant it. He would be able to reason out a way that killing you made sense, if you pissed him off enough.

So. You simply had to make sure that you did not fail. Because you didn’t want to find out what Hongjoong would do with you if you did. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

Much like the rest of the month, the few days leading up to Halloween also fly by before you can appreciate the gravity of your situation. 

Your stomach churns all morning. You chalk it up to nerves, the most obvious explanation for an upset stomach, but part of you wonders if there wasn’t something wrong with your dinner last night. 

Hongjoong announces the party to be held that evening during the morning service, like San had said that he would. You wring your hands together at San’s side, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. There’s a small part of you that is so sure that he would be able to figure you out entirely if he got a glimpse into your eyes. You just try to focus on the activity at hand, listening to Hongjoong with an impassive look on your face. 

You must do an alright job, as Hongjoong allows you to leave the chapel with San at the conclusion of the service. You’re even able to eat breakfast in peace, which actually does surprise you. Though Hongjoong had been exceedingly busy over the month, he still typically made time to freak you out most days. 

But San and you are able to sneak away after breakfast, back to your apartment, without a word from anyone. 

As soon as San shuts and locks the door behind him, he asks, “Are you still feeling alright? Up to this?” 

You blink across the room at him, hardly needing a moment to assure him that you very much still are ready to make your escape. You ask if he’s feeling the same way, to which he agrees. 

“Just a little nervous, I guess,” he explains, shrugging. “That’s normal, right?” 

“Of course it is.” You’re sure that San is no stranger to Hongjoong’s wrath; you don’t need to wonder why he’s nervous. Once again, you’re struck by emotion as you realize what San is doing for you, what he’s risking and what he’s giving up. 

He smiles. “What should we do, after we’re out of here?” 

You sit down on the couch, thinking through your answer, “I think we should just show up on one of my friend’s doorsteps and freak the shit out of them.” 

San laughs, rolling his eyes. “I meant more long-term, but we can do that, too.” 

Oh… Long-term. You still hadn’t broached the subject about… well, blowing the whistle on this place again, ever since San flipped out when you suggested it. You certainly still planned on doing exactly that, and you really don’t think that you need San’s approval to do so, either. Like, if you escape and just let this be, aren’t you basically an accomplice to all of the crime? 

The last thing you plan to do with your life is go to prison for Hongjoong, so you’re very much resolved in what you have to do… whether San agrees with you or not. 

“Well,” you start, “when’s the last time you saw your parents? Where did you live before you came here?” 

San sighs dramatically, making his way to sit next to you. “Sheesh, don’t remind me. They’re gonna kill me.” 

“They’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.” You think of your own parents, who will probably also be a little upset… but hopefully mostly pleased that you’re still alive. 

San agrees with you easily enough about his parents, before adding, “Is this a bad time to mention that the Followers have been paying your rent since you went missing?” He asks, “So everything should still be there.” 

You gape at him. “Are you serious? How?” 

You know for a fact that your rent could only be paid through a pain in the ass portal with a very specific and strange ID and password. 

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “You had the info saved in your phone… so…” 

Puzzled. You are puzzled. Why would they go to such lengths to just keep your shit in your apartment? You had long since assumed that your landlord had probably broken down the door and left your stuff on the curb. 

Well, you remind yourself, it actually hasn’t been that long. Though it feels like you’ve been on this farm for the better part of your life, it has really only been… what, two and a half months? Maybe your landlord would give you some leeway, but… no need to worry about it, you guess. 

But why would they even do that? It’s not like your rent was cheap. What would they gain from keeping your apartment intact? The illusion of life? 

That’s probably it, you realize. Just a front to make it look like you, in fact, weren’t a missing person. Part of you wants to freak out at San, realizing that he must be the person that orchestrated all of this, but you’re too far past that. If you start being mad at him for doing his job, you’re going to have to be mad about a lot of things. Things that you can look past for the fact of what he’s helping you do tonight. 

“Speaking of my phone, can I get that back?” 

San, relieved that you don’t seem mad, smiles. “I’ll grab it tonight.” 

“Can’t I have it now?” 

He hesitates at that, inclining his head in question, “any particular reason?” 

You shouldn’t need to give him a reason, so you shake your head. 

“It’s probably best to keep it where it is, in case someone goes looking for it.” 

… Ominous. Who would be looking for your phone? 

But he’s probably right. And it’s not like there would be much to do on it, anyways. You’re not going to call the cops now, not when your escape is looming closer and closer with each minute that passes. You can’t jeopardize it now. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

You’re a little surprised that dinner carries on as normal, without any extra fanfare. Though no one had mentioned one, you had kind of expected there to be another ceremony of sorts. But, no, dinner is normal. You sit with San and Wooyoung, the rest of the table almost awkwardly empty as the three of you eat in relative silence.

How is Wooyoung going to react when he wakes up tomorrow and you’re both gone? He’s going to be pissed. But, maybe, he’ll realize that you wouldn’t leave him here. Surely, after what he told you, he knows that you wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t have it in your heart to let him rot here, knowing what Hongjoong did to bend him to his will… or, at least, having an inkling of an idea. 

Before you know it, Hongjoong is standing at the head of the room, commanding the attention of the cafeteria. The room falls into a hush, no one speaks as Hongjoong starts his speech. 

“Everyone,” he addresses the room, “Loyal Followers of the Answer, it is with great joy that I officially conclude our harvest season.”

The room bursts into a polite applause, smiles shared around the tables as the Followers celebrate their leader’s message. 

“Despite a rocky start, we were very fortunate to remain safe for the duration of the month.” Hongjoong, for the first time that day, finds your eyes. “I put my thanks in the faith of our Followers, those who kept our protections strong all month long. Though it may seem that there was no danger at all, this is only thanks to their courage.” 

San reaches across the table to squeeze your hand, giving you a small smile. 

“As always, we will celebrate our safety and our bountiful harvest— which Jongho assures me will last us through the winter and beyond— tonight. Everyone of age shall participate; I do not expect anyone to hold back on anyone’s account, especially not my own. This success is as much yours as it is mine.

“Please, imbibe freely, socialize freely, celebrate your victory over evil. We start now, and we will not stop until dawn.” Hongjoong grabs his glass from the table behind him, saluting the room with it before downing the amber liquid. 

Again, the room applauds, though more raucously. Wooyoung excuses himself from your table, headed back to the kitchens. Soon after, Followers emerge with trays and trays of various specialty glassware, each filled with their respective (you assume) alcohols. Not long after, Wooyoung exits the kitchen with a rolling cart filled with, perhaps, more bottles of alcohol than you have ever seen in one place at one time (which was saying a lot, considering the bars you had frequented with Mingi in college). 

Without anyone’s encouragement, Followers begin congregating at the front of the room, helping themselves to the multitude of drinks available. You’re even surprised to see that someone brought out a case of Coke, presumably for mixing. When was the last time you saw coke? They must’ve made a run into town recently, you realize, though it couldn’t have had the same importance as when San went. 

You shrug it off. Not like it matters much, anyhow. San stands, offering his hand to you. You take it, graciously, prepared to get this night started. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

There is an attempt to pace yourself, considering that you’re going to need to be at least a little coherent later tonight, but… well… it’s been a long time. And you are well aware of the fact that you have, like, basically 10 hours. That’s enough time to get drunk and then sober, if you play your cards right. 

So play them, you do. San sticks to your side like glue for the first couple hours, watching you carefully as you put away more than your fair share of drinks. He drinks, as well, but nowhere near at the speed or quantity you do. You’re vaguely aware that you probably should slow down, but why would you, when you’re surrounded by… like, tons of dudes that would protect you, and you include Hongjoong in that count. 

By nine, you are positively drunk, blissfully unaware of the worries from the morning. What is there to worry about? You’re having the time of your life, do you even want to leave? Why would you leave? The thought makes you laugh, not surprisingly. 

You flit around the cafeteria, having lost San a while ago. Or maybe it was only a few minutes ago… It doesn’t matter. You talk to a lot of people, introducing yourself and smiling when they tell you they know who you are. It almost makes you feel a little guilty, but it mostly makes you happy. So many lovely people know your name and your face and they know that Hongjoong thinks you're so important. How amazing! Tomorrow, you probably wouldn’t be able to repeat a single one of their names, but that doesn’t matter. 

The time flies as you keep talking to new people, your mind completely distracted from the plans you have for later. You do slow down your drinking, eventually, though that’s more so due to the fact that you’re too far away from the bar table to bother going back to it than anything else. 

More than a few times, you find yourself staring at Mingi, and, more often than not, he’s staring at you, as well. Maybe he’s worried about you…? The thought makes you blush. Mingi… Oh, Mingi. He looks so handsome tonight, too. His hair is still red, still bright, and his outfit is beautifully fitted to his bulky body. Phew. You almost need to fan yourself. 

Eventually, sometime, you’re not sure what time, you end up talking with Yunho. He is clearly not even a little bit drunk, you might even say he was stone-cold sober if not for the glass in his hands. Though you thought that he hated your guts, he still seemed a little amused by your presence, a small smile on his face as he has to catch your forearm a couple times. The drunk part of you wonders if you could get away with feeling his biceps, he’s just so tall and so handsome, but even you know it would probably be wrong to feel him up. 

You couldn’t repeat a word of your conversation to anyone, not even seconds after it happened; not that you think it particularly matters. After Yunho, you find Wooyoung and Yeosang, and you can distinctly remember thanking Wooyoung for the incredible selection, but… yeah, that’s about it. 

While you’re about to go talk to Jongho, who looks like he could use some company, a hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you backwards. Not one to argue, you spin around, ready to follow whoever it is. Seonghwa stares down at you, an incredulous expression on his face. 

“Hi, Hwa,” you smile up at him, grabbing his free hand with yours. 

His expression morphs from confusion to disgust. “Do not call me that. How much have you had to drink?” 

You shrug, swinging your conjoined hands back and forth. “Enough to have a good time. What about you?” 

“Certainly less than that,” he tugs you back toward the cafeteria tables that had, apparently, been mostly moved out of the way at one point. “Trust me, you don’t want to bother Jongho tonight.” 

You hadn’t planned on bothering him, just keeping him company, but you figured that Seonghwa wouldn’t see it the same way. 

“What time is it?” You ask him, only remembering that you’re wearing a watch after the words leave your mouth. 

“10:44. Got somewhere to be?” 

“Nope,” you pop the p sound, following his lead as he ushers for you to sit down at the table. 

Time continues to fly by, though Seonghwa isn’t as good of a conversation partner as the other people you’ve been spending your time with. He also doesn’t let you drink anymore, instead insisting that you drink water, refilling your glass every time you empty it. Lame. 

As the minutes pass, though, you can feel yourself coming back to reality. You definitely aren’t sober, very far from sober, but the lights stop being bright and you stop being amused by everything that Seonghwa says and does pretty quickly. You also excuse yourself to the restroom more than a few times, though you dutifully return to the same table each time. 

The night progresses, and you find yourself making eye contact with Mingi more and more. Like, seriously, basically everytime that you happen to look at him, he’s already looking at you. Besides the one time you look over and see him engaged in conversation with Hongjoong, you appear to have his rapt attention. 

You try to look around the room for San, but there are so many Followers and it’s kind of dark and you’re still not in your right mind, so you give up pretty quickly. You have no idea what it is that he could be doing, besides preparing for your escape, so you just let it be. Better to not ask after him and then have the others asking the same questions. 

Though he had stopped you from drinking, Seonghwa had not stopped himself. He paces himself much better than you had, but he keeps drinking as the night wears on, eventually starting to open up a bit more with you. He also lets you get another drink, which you happily allow yourself, as you start to feel much too aware of your situation once more. 

“You know,” Seonghwa mutters, leaning closer to you, “this is, essentially, Hongjoong’s birthday party.”

You pull away from him, confusion evident on your face. “It’s his birthday?” 

“In a week.” He sips his drink, grimacing at the taste. “But he doesn’t make a big deal of it on the actual day, so here we are.” 

You’re actually rather surprised to hear this, and from Seonghwa no less. It’s strange that Hongjoong doesn’t want his birthday to be a huge thing considering his, you know, enormous ego and narcissism issue. Maybe he doesn’t like everyone knowing how old he is. Kind of takes away the appeal, knowing that he’s… how old is he? He can’t be much older than you, just given what you know about him and Seonghwa (who you know to be the same age). You’d ask Seonghwa, but it kind of seems like he wants you to ask, so you’re not going to. 

Instead, you sip your own drink, trying to look like you’re thoughtfully processing and tucking this information away for later. Why would you ever need to remember Hongjoong’s birthday, especially after tonight? Your stomach rolls over as you have this thought, the reminder of your plan being truly nauseating. 

“When's your birthday?” You ask instead, propping your elbow onto the table. 

Seonghwa looks momentarily taken aback, but responds easily enough, “April third.” 

“Far away, then,” you frown. Another realization hits you. “You’re older than Hongjoong.” 

He shrugs, “Believe it or not.” 

For whatever reason, this is, in fact, slightly disconcerting. 

But you ignore that feeling, opting to look around the crowded room. Hongjoong himself is mingling with Yeosang and Wooyoung, both of whom look incredibly pleased to have their leader's attention. Wooyoung is not shy with his hands, clutching the Hongjoong’s arm close to his chest as they speak. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s feeling okay. You’re still not sure how he can be so loyal to someone that apparently had him… what? Tortured? Who even knows. Stockholm syndrome is a real thing, you guess. For once, Hongjoong doesn't sense your gaze, staying completely unaware until your eyes shift away. 

Immediately, perhaps unsurprisingly, at this point, you make eye contact with Mingi. You hold it this time, tilting your head in question as if asking him if he needs something. He’s certainly acting like it, with all this staring, but he looks away from you, resuming his conversation with a Follower you haven't met before. Like everyone else, he still sports a drink in his hand, dutifully sipping it every lull. 

“Princess, can I ask you a question?” Seonghwa speaks across from you, calling your attention back to him. You incline your head in the affirmative, and he asks, “Why did it take you so long to come after him?” 

The question takes you off guard, probably for the fact that you wonder it yourself. You take another drink, looking down at the wood grain on the table. 

“Too personal? I figured.” Seonghwa takes your silence as an unwillingness to respond.

“No,” you're quick to deny him, “it's not that. I just don't know the answer.” 

As horrible as it sounds, the real answer to the question is simply… you were busy. Life happened. You didn’t have any reason to suspect that he disappeared due to malicious circumstances. Finishing university was your top priority— plenty of your friendships fell to the wayside as you wrapped up your degree. And, by the time you graduated, it didn’t seem pertinent. You always figured that, if you reached out, he would answer. Hell, his mom told you where he was, if she knew about this place, at least to some extent, you couldn’t blame yourself for not knowing what it would end up being. 

If you had known the truth, you think, you would’ve come sooner. Of course you would have. There is no universe where you let Mingi go through this terror alone… though that’s essentially what’s happened since your argument and the rift in your relationship. 

Whatever the case, it seems silly to worry about now. You're here. There were a few months where Mingi was here alone, and the idea of those few months horrifies you. Knowing that Mingi went through a Choosing ceremony without any kind of internal support system makes you feel sick… but, you have to admit, he did pretty alright. Sure, he's traumatized and changed and brainwashed, but at least he has friends and a purpose and, well, he seems happy… ish. There's nothing you could've done if you had been here earlier, so it's no use dreading on it. You still would've been kept apart, and there still would've been the same circumstances. 

You take a look at your watch, sighing as it informs you that the time is 11:52 p.m., not nearly as late as you were hoping that it would be. 

Seonghwa huffs at your non-answer, tucking his hair away from his face to stare at you harder. “Sometimes I feel like I can hear your thoughts just from watching your expression change. Mingi wasn’t better off before you got here, if that is what you were thinking.” 

It wasn’t, but, like, that’s kind of close. 

You shake your head, sliding your drink across the table between your hands. “It’s not that I think he was better off… Just that he did alright for himself in the meantime.” 

His face twists, though you’re not sure what emotion he’s trying to convey. “Do you even remember what happened when you tried to leave?” 

Your eyes meet his. 

“He had you back for, what, two days, and then completely broke down.” Seonghwa glances back over at Mingi. “I don’t think he’s been the same since you did that.” 

“You can’t guilt trip me into forgetting my need for self-preservation,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray any sense of, well, guilt. 

He rolls his eyes, looking back at you. “In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, you are very much still alive.” He mutters something else under his breath as he picks up his drink, taking quite a few consecutive swallows. 

You mirror his actions. Hopefully, you can keep it that way.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。. 

In a stroke of luck, Seonghwa let you keep drinking until you found yourself teetering between tipsy and drunk, again. He kept drinking, but he didn’t really keep entertaining you, instead wandering off to do his own socializing. You do try to keep yourself under control, though considering that it’s almost time. 

You take a look at your watch, surprised to see that it’s already 2:15. Blinking through the haze of your tipsiness, it sure seems like 2:15 is an okay time to get a move on, right? Like, surely no one will notice if you slip out now instead of in, like, twenty minutes or whenever you and San had agreed he would grab you. 

Plus, if anyone did notice, you could just say that you needed some air. It wouldn’t be hard to believe, looking at the state of you. You would quite enjoy a nice breath of fresh air. You could always come back inside if it felt like it was too early, or if you got a bad feeling. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sneak off for just a moment. 

In a brief look around the room, you don’t find anyone paying any particular attention to yourself. In fact, you can see Hongjoong and Seonghwa engrossed in conversation, about as far away as could be. Seonghwa’s hand rests on Hongjoong’s shoulder, a demure smile on his face as he listens to Hongjoong speak. Most of the other Followers in the room all seem significantly more drunk than yourself, with hardly a person meeting your eyes for any longer than a second. 

No one will notice, you’re positive. 

As you begin your attempt to shuffle your way through the crowd toward the hall, a hand grasps your elbow, stopping you in place, for the second time that night. 

Despite the looks that he had been giving you all night, you’re still a bit surprised to see Mingi looking down at you when you spin around to see who the hand belongs to. Your plans to go get a breath of fresh air fall out the window at the sight of him. Why would you need fresh air when Mingi is standing in front of you? He has just about the same effect on you. 

At first, he doesn’t seem to have anything to say, but, if you know anything about Mingi, it’s that he yaps when he’s drunk. And he clearly is, judging from the rosy tinge of his face and the awkward smile he wears as he looks at you, a smile that sends you straight back to college. It’s as if he’s completely forgotten everything that’s happened in the past couple months, forgotten the arguments and the anger and the time that has passed. 

“Hey,” he greets you, having to raise his voice over the din of the party. 

“Hey,” you greet him in turn, politely waiting for him to continue. 

“Can I—” he stops, opting to lean his head closer to yours so that he can talk into your ear. His hand stays on your elbow, locking you in place (not that you would’ve moved away from him, anyways, being tipsy and all). “Can we talk in private?” He asks, his voice deep in a way that you had almost forgotten. 

Nodding, you allow him to retract himself and lead you away, toward the hall that you had originally been aiming for. When the door shuts behind the two of you, the party sounds fade; the two of you isolated from the rest of the world. 

Well, the two of you and a few other Followers that linger in the hall, but close enough. Mingi doesn’t seem bothered by their presence, and you really aren’t either. You’re sure that you haven’t had a truly private conversation with Mingi since before he went missing, given that he apparently seeks Hongjoong’s advice for everything. Anyways, the presence of a few stragglers doesn’t worry you. 

Mingi drops your arm, awkwardly smoothing his dress shirt. “You look nice. Pretty.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, leaning your back against the wall— partly in an effort to keep your balance.  “What did you wanna talk about?” 

He shrugs, observing the hallway like he had never seen it before. “Just wanted to talk. We haven’t talked in a looooooonnngggggggggg time.” 

Part of you wants to ask him who’s fault that is, but that would be cruel, so you don’t. “It has been a while now.” You agree instead, glancing at your watch. 2:22… which is basically 2:25, which is basically 2:30… already. Nerves wash over you again as you clench your hands in front of you. 

“If I’m being honest— and I always want to be honest with you, you know— Hongjoong said that I should talk to you because he thought it would be good for you to hear my thoughts about the situation and also because he said that he thought that you seemed bummed out that we haven’t been talking and that made me sad so I’m taking his advice and talking to you.” Mingi says after taking one deep breath, not stopping for a moment. “Also Yunho said that you still seemed kind of mad and I can’t take the thought of you being mad at me anymore so basically what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry.” 

Blinking, a pout forms on your face at his explanation. He had been worrying about you and your relationship. You could’ve reached out to him at any point in the last month, but hadn’t out of fear that he was still upset with you. And here he was, apologizing. 

“Mingi,” you wring your hands harder together, “it really isn’t important anymore. I stopped being angry a long time ago.” 

He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “It is important, (Y/n), I don’t want this to go unsaid. I’m sorry for confronting you and acting like a douchebag, I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for questioning you about San, which was absolutely none of my business, I’m sorry for yelling and fighting him and ignoring you for weeks and sending San dirty looks whenever I saw him.” He pauses. “You probably didn’t know about that last one, but, still, I’m sorry.” 

Your frown only grows deeper with each apology, your eyes starting to sting. You don’t want to cry, not when you’re sure that this night will steal plenty of tears already, but Mingi is making it hard. If you had known that he was beating himself up equally as hard as you had been, you would’ve apologized a long, long time ago. If you had known… isn’t that just the statement of your life? 

“When you were attacked at the start of the month, I was terrified.” He swallows. “I wanted to be at your side, but Hongjoong wouldn’t allow it, and I was sure that you would be pissed if you woke up and I was there, so I left. But that solitude left me a lot of time to think, to think about who you are and what you mean to me.

“You might not think of me as your best friend anymore, but I value our friendship more than anything else in my life, (Y/n). More than Hongjoong, more than The Answer, more than all of this; you are what I thank God for everyday. If something happened to you, I don’t think I would survive it.” Mingi swallows again, harder, tearing up himself. “I’m so glad that you’re here. I know you still are on the fence about Hongjoong, but I need you to trust me when I say that he loves us and he lives to make us better people.” 

Finally, you allow a few stray tears to spill onto your cheeks. Mingi’s confession is touching, truly, making your stomach do all sorts of gymnastics, but Hongjoong. How does he weasel his way into absolutely everything? Again, you’re struck by the thought that Mingi will be plagued by Hongjoong for the rest of his life. This… grip he has on Mingi won’t disappear overnight. 

Thankful for the wall behind you, considering your dizziness, you lift a hand to wipe at your cheeks before responding. “Mingi, no matter what happens or how much we fight or if I’m here or not, you’ll always be my best friend.” You smile weakly, hoping that he doesn’t read too deeply into your words. “Nothing can come between us for long.” 

Mingi wipes at his own tears, sniffling. “Can I hug you?” 

Before you can fully nod your head yes, Mingi is pulling you away from the wall and into his arms, crushing you to his chest. You’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, savoring the feeling. You hadn’t been able to hug him in ages, but his arms feel just like you remember them— if not a little bit more muscled. Inhaling deeply, you rub your face against his shirt, probably ruining the crisp-ness that he had been trying to preserve. His tears wet your scalp, but you don’t mind as you only squeeze him tighter. 

The moment could not be more perfect; reconciling with Mingi fills your heart with such a certainty that you’re doing the right thing. Knowing that he isn’t upset with you, isn’t harboring any ill-will any longer reassures you that it will all be okay. He knows that you wouldn’t just leave him behind— he’ll know that you’re coming back for him (if he ever even finds out that you’ve left). 

That is, of course, ignoring the bit of his speech where he encouraged you to stay and adapt to Hongjoong, but, like, whatever. It’ll be irrelevant in a few hours, now. He’ll be thankful, eventually. 

But no moment can be perfect and last forever. 

A throat clearing from behind Mingi calls your attention back to the world. The two of you separate, though Mingi puts a hand on your cheek as you pull away, wiping away your tears with a tight smile. 

San looks behind Mingi’s shoulder, his face hard as he watches the two of you. You could almost chuckle at his jealousy, but the seriousness of the situation suddenly rises into your awareness once again. 

“I'm sorry, Mingi, you'll have to excuse us,” San says, despite the fact that Mingi hasn't acknowledged his presence. 

Mingi leans close to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he says, quietly enough so that you're the only one who hears. 

Nodding, you untangle yourself from his arms, taking a few steps towards San before offering your hand to him. 

He takes it, offering no final remarks to Mingi as he pulls you further away from the cafeteria. Further away from Hongjoong and Seonghwa and Mingi and the rest of them. Closer to the forest and your car and freedom. 

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest again. Had you lost track of time talking with Mingi? Were you running behind? Why does it seem like San is in such a rush to get you away? It’s almost hard to keep up with his stride, your boots feeling heavier with each step that you take. 

Vaguely, you find yourself worrying over if Mingi will get in trouble for being the last one to speak to you. Surely not… How would he know what you were planning? There wouldn’t be a way for him to… unless they suspected that you had confided your plans to him. 

Which you hadn’t done, but if they were desperate enough to need a scapegoat… No. Hongjoong wouldn’t go that far. He may never even find out that you had the conversation in the first place. Mingi might mention it, but he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to in the chaos that is sure to ensue when your absence was realized. 

They were bound to figure out what had happened easily enough; they wouldn’t have to interrogate your friends to come to the most obvious conclusion: that you and San had run away in the night, without outside help. 

Before you know it, San is opening the front door, ushering you into the night. 

As you had suspected, the cool air does feel amazing on your skin. Lacking a coat, you know that you’ll grow colder the longer that you’re outside. It’s almost November, now, the air is almost strikingly cold after the stuffiness of the cafeteria. Even the hallway had hardly felt relieving compared to this. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you allow San to continue wordlessly leading you forward. If you weren’t still rather tipsy, maybe you would question his silence. But it doesn’t bother you very much, if you’re being honest. He probably just doesn’t want to risk drawing any unnecessary attention…

He had assured you that there would be absolutely no one outside of the compound at this point in the night, though… 

But, still, he has his reasons, you’re sure. Instead of continuing to walk in front of the building, he veers dramatically to the right, walking the distance until you both turn the corner to round to the side and eventually the back.

Though you had never seen the woods at the back of the compound directly, you had known it was there. The ancient, old-growth trees loomed from behind the building, their leaves able to be seen from a far distance, even from the road. To actually be in front of them was a new sensation, a new emotion. The sight of their trunks startled you into realization.

This is real. You’re doing this. You’re running. You’re getting out of here. 

San stops at the edge of the trees, finally turning to address you in a low voice, “You still want to do this?” 

Nodding, you squeeze his hand in yours, bringing your free hand to grip your joined hands as well. 

He looks at the dirt, kicking a loose pebble at his feet. “Don’t look too hard at anything you might see in these trees, (Y/n).” 

However foreboding that is, you agree with his request, “I won’t take my eyes off of you.” 

San allows himself a small smile, squeezing your hands back. 

Whatever it is that San doesn’t want you seeing, you don’t think you ever had any hope of being able to see in the trees, anyways. It’s pitch black outside, the moon doing little to help you as you walk deeper and deeper. 

You’re almost kind of amazed that he’s able to lead you so confidently. He must not have consumed anywhere near the same quantity of alcohol as everyone else. Which actually makes quite a bit of sense, considering you hadn’t seen him very much at all following dinner. What had he been up to? Was Hongjoong not suspicious of his absence? He must’ve made something up… explained it away… 

More than a few times, you stumble over a tree root or loose brush, twigs snapping underfoot with each step that you take. San holds you steady, slowing his pace when you need it. 

After what feels like forever, but is probably more like a couple minutes, you reach a clearing. At first, you think that you spot your car right away… but then you realize that you can’t be sure. In the clearing, there’s no fewer than twenty vehicles, of all makes and models and sizes. Some look like they haven’t run in years, a thick, dusty coat over their windshields that you can even see in the dark. 

San doesn’t pause to let you take in the clearing for very long, however. He quickly pulls you along with him, between a row of cars, before you’re able to find your own. It looks just as you remember it, albeit a bit dirty. Your heart leaps as you realize what this means.

You’re at your car. Your car. It’s right here, right in front of you. You’re going to fucking get out of here. Holy shit. 

San lets go of your hand, fishing into his pocket before pulling out the keys and handing them to you. “We don’t lock the cars, but…” 

Clutching the keys in your hands, you can’t help but smile. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

He awkwardly mirrors your smile, glancing behind you before pointing it out. You turn to look, not all that surprised to see that the clearing opens to a dirt road, leading back off into the trees. “We’ll go that way. It meets up with the main road after a couple miles.” 

Nodding, you turn back to your car, almost giddy as you approach the passenger’s side door. Gently, you pull on the handle, hoping the door doesn’t creak too loud as you do so. Thankfully, it’s no louder than normal, and you eagerly sit yourself down in the seat. San stands in the door, his hands resting on either side of the opening. “Ready, then?” He chuckles as you settle yourself into the seat, adjusting the recline to lay back. 

“Let’s go.” 

He gives you a thumbs up, pushing himself off of the car before patting at his pockets. 

His smile falls, his face paling. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, “What is it?” You ask, sitting back up. “Is something wrong?” 

San blinks, twisting to look back the way that you came. “I have to go back.” 

“What?” You almost shout, “Are you crazy? You can’t go back!” 

He shakes his head, leaning down toward you. He grips both of your shoulders tight in his hands, looking in your eyes, “It’ll be fine. I will be right back, I promise.” 

“San, no,” you gape at him, “what could possibly be so important?” 

San closes his eyes, shaking his head at your question. “It’s hard to explain, I— Just, I,” his eyes open as he squeezes you one last time before dropping your shoulders. “I’ll be back, I swear.” 

“Let me come with you,” you plead, attempting to grab one of his hands as he pulls away. “Don’t leave me here, alone, please, San.” 

Shushing you, he shakes his head again. “You’ll slow me down. I swear, (Y/n), it will be fine. I’ll see you in a minute.” 

He takes a step back, shutting the door before you can come up with a response. You’re too dumbfounded to even attempt to open the door again, too confused to try and follow. What could possibly be so important to him? What if someone finds you here? How are you going to explain that, huh? 

But the possibility of that is so remote. No one knows that you’re out here, how could they? Even if someone notices your absence at the party, they’ll just assume that you’ve retired to your room, right? And even if they feel inclined to check, that’ll take a few minutes, in which time San should return to you and get a move on. 

Still, you find it very hard to swallow your panic. 

What if this is it? What if you die because San had to go back for something that he wouldn’t even tell you about? Your breathing grows shallow with each new terrible thought that invades your mind. You can see it now, Hongjoong walking into the clearing, rage in his eyes, knife in his hands. Making you grovel and beg and plead with him only to end it right then and there, anyways. San would come back and find your still-warm body, soon to join you in death. 

You try to blink away the images that flit across your mind, realizing that your eyes burn as if you’d been crying. Your hand flies to your cheek, unsurprised to find it wet. Taking a deep breath, you do anything you can think of to distract yourself. 

The air in your car is so stale, your months old air-freshener doing little to help the dry, bitter smell. You fumble with the glove box, pulling it open while praying that there is anything in it that can distract you from the horror of the moment. 

Papers spill out as you indiscriminately pull everything out, ushering it onto your lap. You throw aside the car manuals and your outdated insurance, searching for just one thing, anything that could remind you of what you were enduring these terrors for. 

A brochure for The Bean slides out, your own face smiling from behind the coffee bar. Adam can be seen in the background. It almost makes you sick, that horrible reminder of the life that you had been forced to give up. You keep sliding the papers around, cutting your finger in your desperation. 

Sucking your paper cut into your mouth, you realize that you're not going to find anything in the glove box. You make a half hearted attempt to shove everything back inside before deciding that it's not worth it. 

Tears still pouring down your face, you reach for the driver's side sun visor, flicking it down to reveal the photos you kept in the sunglass clip. 

On top is a picture of Jungeun and yourself, embracing with your faces pressed together. You quickly slide it back, knowing for certain that you have a picture of Mingi in the stack. 

Seeing the picture will wake you up, you're certain. It will give you the courage to keep going. 

Finally, a polaroid emerges. It's the first picture you had clipped to the visor, a testament to how much time had passed before you started looking for Mingi. How had you waited so long? You pry the polaroid free, it having stuck to the metal after so long. 

Though your hands shake, you don't really need to see the photo in detail to appreciate it. Mingi stands in the center, a peace sign next to his eyes. He's not smiling, rather giving you a sour look. He wasn't pleased to be the first test subject of his gift to you. The second photo was of yourself, taken by him, you remember. The third was a selfie of the both of you. 

You don't have either of the other photos, but you have this one. Something compels you to protect the picture, to keep it on you, so you slide it into your waistline and pray that your pants don't distort it too much. 

A knock on the window almost kills you on the spot, with the way your heart leaps into your throat.

The shock of who you see through the window makes you gag. 

No sooner after seeing his face does he open the door, falling onto his knees next to the car to be eye level with you. 

Seonghwa is drunk, much more drunk than he had been when you were with him earlier, you realize this very quickly with the way his voice wavers as he asks, “What are you doing?”

You have no response. You open and close your mouth a few times, but only choked sounds of fear come out. 

He grabs your hands, holding them in your lap. “Why are you crying? Are you leaving?” 

He sounds so sad that your heart nearly shatters. Your heart should shatter, now, knowing that escape is impossible. But you can only focus on Seonghwa, on his knees, in front of you. 

His bangs brush his eyelids. “You're leaving?” He asks again, “without me?” 

Seonghwa hiccups, frowning. The question is so absurd you can't pay any mind to it. Why would you bring Seonghwa with you? His forehead comes to rest on your thigh. 

“Seonghwa, go back to the party,” you manage to get out, clearing your throat after. 

“I can't,” he pouts, “Hongjoong is mad at me. I can't tell why.” 

You think Hongjoong always seems a little mad at Seonghwa, but you're not going to say that to him now.

“Please, Seonghwa, go.” 

He shifts his face and blinks up at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight so prettily it almost hurts. “Come with me, then.” 

Seonghwa gets to his feet, but he doesn't release your hands. They dangle between the two of you, the height different causing yours to float up. “We can fix this. Just come with me,” he says. 

You're shaking your head before you realize it. “I can't go back. I can't do this anymore.” 

Seonghwa bites his lip, looking around. “This isn't going to end well; please,” he looks back at you, “just come back with me. I won't say anything, Hongjoong will never know, we'll both be fine. We'll be fine. Nothing has to change.” 

“I can't go back.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you can feel its thrum. When San returns, what will he do about Seonghwa? How will he possibly get past him? Seonghwa won't let you leave, but you have to. To what length would San go to get you free? 

You don't want Seonghwa hurt. You realize now, staring up at him, that you care about him. More than you would've ever thought you would. Who is Seonghwa if not the ultimate victim? Is he not just a reflection of yourself?

“Get in the car, Seonghwa.”

He frowns again, pouting his lower lip. “I can't leave Hongjoong.” 

“Yes, you can. Get in the car.”

You don't give a second thought to your proposition, nodding your head toward the back seat.

“I won't leave Hongjoong.” Seonghwa clarifies, dropping your hands. They smack down onto your thighs, stinging. 

You'd question him, start yelling at him if you could. But you can hardly form a coherent thought and every word feels like risking the contents of your stomach coming up. Instead, you frown, looking down at your lap rather than at his confused face. 

“You can't leave Hongjoong, either,” he says. “Even if you run, he'll find you, always. You'd come back on your own, you won't know how to live without him anymore.” He tells you this eerily flat. “Just come back with me, he doesn't have to know about this.” 

Seonghwa is speaking nonsense. Even your flurried mind understands this.

“Please.” He begs. “(Y/n), please.” 

You shake your head. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as singular tears run down his cheeks. “I'm sorry. I tried to help you, I did.” 

Seonghwa turns away from the car as the sinking feeling in your stomach solidifies into a rock of dread. 

Of course, you knew what it meant to see Seonghwa out here. There was never any chance, not after he had found you. If he knew where you were, Hongjoong did, too. Surely, he wouldn’t risk you getting away. He would drag the moment on, though. Making Seonghwa come here, making him plead with you, what sort of torture was that? What was the point? Isn’t he just going to kill you, now? 

Why is it that, when Hongjoong enters the clearing, you aren’t scared? You hardly feel anything. You knew this was coming. You knew that this would happen, didn’t you? There wasn’t any other possible ending to this night. You wanted to believe that it was possible, that you could escape, but it was futile. It was never a possibility. Even with San’s help. You knew it, deep down. 

Like Seongwha said, there is no getting away from Hongjoong. You were foolish to think that you could, and you know it, now. 

Instead of watching Hongjoong approach, you watch Seonghwa slink away. He doesn’t go far, stopping to rest his head against the roof of a car a few down from your own. You can imagine how good the cool metal must feel. 

You snivel, wiping at your eyes as Hongjoong stops in front of you, standing where San had stood, where Seonghwa kneeled. He’s silent. You don’t look up at him, instead focusing on his hands as they hang at his sides. They’re empty, though clenched into tight fists. 

“You have ignored every. Single. Opportunity. I have given you.” He emphasizes each word. “Chances I gave you to make the right decision.” 

It’s not even worth your energy to respond, is it? Obviously, you should’ve known that the various conversations you had over the night were warnings. How else would everyone manage to bring up something that would make you want to stay? And Seonghwa… 

How humiliating. 

“I’m disappointed in you.” Hongjoong says, and it’s so much worse than if he had been screaming and violent. “I thought you were starting to fit in.” 

You glance at Seonghwa, who still has his back turned to you. He seems to be shaking, but you find it hard to believe that, even in this scenario, he would cry for you. This has to be part of it, right? Part of making you feel guilty? 

Looking at him is a mistake, though. Hongjoong harshly grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look at me when I'm speaking to you.”

You still have no idea what to say to him. It all seems so stupid, in retrospect. 

It's only as you look up at Hongjoong that you start to wonder where San is. If you asked, you'd surely get your ass handed to you. But the terrible feeling in your stomach only gets worse. What if he comes back to this scene? How will he react? Poor San, he was so desperate for you. How will he feel, with the plan destroyed? Does Hongjoong know the depth of his involvement? 

So, you break your silence. It couldn’t get much worse, could it? “Where is San?” You ask. 

Hongjoong lets go of your face, but only to bury a hand in your hair, yanking you into standing. Instinctively you bring your hands to his, crying out in pain. He only smirks, releasing his grasp on you. 

You collapse onto your knees, catching yourself with your hands at his feet. Your nice pants, they're dirty, now, you catch yourself thinking. Like that's the biggest issue right now. 

“Where is San?” He repeats your question, spitting the words out like they leave a vile taste in his mouth. 

Reduced to a heap at his feet, you can't bring yourself to look up at him. This night has turned up just as your last failure had. You're not all that surprised when Hongjoong's boot comes down on your hand, though not hard enough to hurt. “Look at me.” 

You do. From even further beneath him, he looks more Biblical than ever. 

“Who do you think told me where you were?” 

Ah. 

Of course. 

That makes sense. 

Your face contorts, though with what emotion, you’re not sure. 

You want to think that there might be an explanation, one that doesn’t involve San betraying you to a homicidal maniac, but you know that there isn’t. Instantly, you know. 

He never meant to help you. He never cared about you. He had laid a pretty trap for you, at Hongjoong’s request, and had sprung it just as planned.

And he couldn’t even be here to see the fruits of his labor. Pathetic. Your mind swims with everything you had told him, everything you confessed to him, the times you had been warned about him. You fought with Mingi over him, you defended him to Mingi. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong smiles down at you. “All of this has been planned since the day I made you live with him.” 

You nod up at him, realizing that he must want something else from you. 

“You must understand, (Y/n), that I control everything. You can’t trust in anything besides this fact.” Hongjoong kneels to meet your eye line, inadvertently crushing your hand under his foot as his weight shifts. 

Gritting your teeth, you suck in any sound of pain that threatens to escape. The last thing you plan on doing tonight is letting Hongjoong realize the depths of your pain. 

He tilts his head in question. “Do you have anything you want to say to me?” 

Even in your haze of emotions, you can hardly resist spitting a few choice curses at him. “Fuck you.” 

He grimaces, though he’s clearly not actually affected. “Not what I was thinking, Princess, but I’ll give you a pass.”

His hands are suddenly gripping into your shirt at the shoulders, yanking you onto your feet. He hardly allows you to catch yourself before he begins dragging you across the clearing, away from your car, into the trees, away from your last shred of dignity. 

There isn’t a single thing on your mind as he pulls you through the trees and eventually back around to the front of the compound. He’s groveling under his breath, probably cursing you out in any and every way that he knows how. And you deserve it. You deserve every stumble of your feet, every tear burning your cheeks, every horrible thing that Hongjoong can fling at you. 

You failed. Not only yourself, but everyone stuck here in this cult. You’ve utterly failed. No one is going to be rescued, no one is going to be saved. You cling onto Hongjoong’s blazer as he guides you to the barns, having no idea what could be waiting for you there.

Maybe this is it, huh? Maybe he has finally realized that you’re more trouble than you’re worth. For a second there, it had looked like he was going to keep you alive, but maybe not. That was probably just wishful thinking. He’s probably delivering you to Jongho, too disgusted to even deal with you himself. 

Hongjoong releases you to throw open the barn doors. You have to catch yourself on the siding to remain standing, but Hongjoong quickly returns his grip on you, hauling you further inside the barn. 

It’s the animal barn. He walks you into the center aisle, dropping you unceremoniously. You fall into a heap at his feet. Again.

You can hardly hear Hongjoong over the general animal sounds, but especially over the oinking of the pigs. “I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, glaring down at you. “When I come back, you’re going to still be in this building.”

Sniffling, you nod in agreement. 

He scoffs. “You’re lucky, (Y/n), very lucky. If you had made it even an inch down that road, what do you think would’ve happened to you? To Mingi? Haseul?”

There isn’t anything for you to say. The pigs fill the silence. 

“Selfish. Utterly, disgustingly, selfish.” Hongjoong spits. “Stay here— before you try and lure anyone else to their certain deaths.” 

With that, he turns on his heel and exits the barn, shutting the door behind him. The overhead lights remained on, but you barely even found yourself capable of caring. The dark wouldn’t make any difference. You failed.

And Hongjoong was right. You are selfish. Even though you knew the truth about San’s intentions now, you hadn’t known before. You had thought he was risking his life to help you, and you had been fine with it. What was wrong with you? Why is this just occurring to you now? Had you really been so desperate as to involve another person? What’s the matter with you? Have you no shame? No consideration? Were you such a narcissist that you would put your freedom above someone’s life?

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you wipe your cheeks with your hands. The sensation is calming, allowing you to take a few deep breaths as you collect your bearings. As hard as it is, you should try to keep your head on straight… there’s still no telling how the night will end, and something tells you that it’s far from over. 

One thing you know for certain, though, is that you cannot do this again. You can’t. No matter what. Something else will have to give. There is no more escape. There is no more saving yourself. How the fuck could you, after this? 

Standing, you brush your hands off on your pants. Hongjoong hadn’t said anything about not moving from the spot. Might as well look at the animals. Animals can be calming, right? Therapeutic? Maybe?

Wishful thinking. 

Your tears keep flowing, but you find your breathing to be coming back to your control. You stumble with your first step, but quickly regain your balance, tottering over to the nearest animal pen— which happens to be the pigs.

This is where you had confronted Jongho about Haneul. How long ago was that, now? That horrible confrontation lingers as you grip the metal fencing keeping the pigs in place. The bar is cooling, demanding your attention. You realize now that the air itself, though warmed by the animals' presence, is getting rather chilly, as well. 

Tugging your sleeves lower over your hands, you peer down at the animals. Some of them are sleeping, but most of them aren’t. Each sow is separated from the next, in neat, orderly rows. Last time you had seen them, there weren’t individual pens. Jongho had been feeding them in one huge, disorderly mess. It had been rather disgusting. 

You had also fought with Mingi, that day. About so many things that just seem stupid, now. What was there to even be mad about? Mingi is just Mingi. You can’t fault him for being a victim.

And the fact that he was just looking out for you, and, in fact, turned out to be absolutely correct. 

As you turn to walk to a different pen, the feeling of the polaroid at your waist recaptures your attention. Stopping in place, you fish it out of your waistline, cupping it in your hands. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be damaged. You stare down at it once more. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since you had put it in your pants, and, yet, here you are. Completely changed. 

Mingi’s face frowns up at you, but your eyes catch on something outside of the photo. Your own expression melts into a frown as you lower your hands, shoving the picture back into your pants. 

Wiping your tears again, you kneel down to the ground next to the pen. 

What had caught your attention was a scrap of white, so starkly bright against the packed dirt floor of the barn. 

You reach out to grab it, suddenly overcome with an even worse feeling of dread. Your scalp goes cold, a shiver spreading across your body as you touch the… fabric. 

Fabric. 

Blinking your tears away as fast as you can manage, you pull, feeling your stomach drop as the piece grows into a cuff. Buttons and all. A white cuff. 

There’s nothing that you can do to stop yourself from thinking the thoughts that come— attacking you at nearly instantaneous moments. 

It’s Haseul’s. This is from Haseul’s shirt. What did Hongjoong say would happen? About the pigs? The pigs? Haseul? This is Haseul’s shirt? It can’t be. She’s in her room. She’s been in her room this whole time. This could belong to anyone. This could’ve been cut off of anyone’s shirt. It doesn’t have to be hers. It could be anyone’s. Why would it be hers? It isn’t possible. San said she was fine. He failed, but she was fine. Hongjoong said she was fine. Mingi said— what did he say? Did he say something? Anything? It doesn’t matter. San said—

“You shouldn’t be in here,” a familiar voice calls from behind you. 

You fall onto your butt, forgoing your pants. They were ruined, anyway. Clutching the cuff in your hand, you don’t even reply to Jongho’s warning. Your breathing is out of control, again. Each breath you take is tighter, harder, less satisfying, more panic inducing. The fabric in your hand burns with the tightness of your grip. 

Jongho grabs your shoulder. “Can you even hear me?” 

A fully-fledged sob leaves you as you look up at him. 

His eyebrows furrow in some emotion— probably disgust— as he frowns at you. “Get out of here.”

Shaking your head, you try to say even a single word about Hongjoong telling you to stay here, but you can’t get anything out. If anything, you cry harder, shaking your head back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, shutting your eyes as tightly as you can. 

This cannot be real. This can’t be happening. It can’t be Haseul’s shirt. Even if it is, it doesn’t mean that she’s—

No, you won’t even think it. You just keep shaking your head. It can’t be. It cannot be. 

Jongho’s hand leaves your shoulder.

“This is your punishment, (Y/n).” Hongjoong’s voice booms from behind you. It’s so shocking that you open your eyes, spinning around in the dirt to face him. He’s not alone. Seonghwa and San are with him, both of them looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

Seeing San doesn’t relieve you at all. Seonghwa’s face is puffy, his clothing disheveled and dirty. Neither of them look at you, instead looking at the ground in front of them. Jongho remains at your side, seemingly caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You don’t know what Hongjoong means, though. Or, rather, your mind completely refuses to see what is in front of it until it is irrefutable. There is still hope, now. There is hope. The cuff doesn’t mean anything until Hongjoong says that it does. There is nothing in you that can accept this until… 

“Haseul is dead.” Hongjoong says. “And San killed her.” 

The wind is completely knocked out of your lungs as you fall onto your hands, heaving. 

Though you can’t see San, you can hear him. His protests are immediate, “What? Hongjoong, why would you say that? I didn’t do that. I didn’t even touch her. I swear, (Y/n), why would I lie—”

“Not to mention that he orchestrated your entire escape attempt at my request,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through San’s pleas to be heard. 

The reminder calls you back into your body. Hongjoong had to say it in front of San, you realize, he had to make sure San knew that you knew of his betrayal. You look up at the three men in front of you as you gasp for air. The cuff lays in the dirt before you, momentarily forgotten. 

San is gaping at Hongjoong, his hands outstretched as if he was in the middle of trying to reach for you. “Are you fucking crazy?” San barely squeezes out in his apparent anger. 

“I am, in fact.” Hongjoong replies, though he doesn’t bother to address San. He smiles down at you instead, watching your facial expression change from one of despair to one of hatred. 

Your eye twitches as you stare at San, who starts to plead for you to hear him out once more. 

“I swear, (Y/n), it wasn’t like that! You heard him! He’s crazy! He only has something to gain if you don’t trust me, right? Why would I ever do that? I love you, you kno—” 

San had been crouching down to your level as he made this speech, which was probably a horrible idea. Using your hands as your leverage, you launch yourself at him, toppling him over into the dirt. 

Pinning him to the ground with your weight, you stare down at his (very surprised) face. 

It takes you all of five seconds to realize what you couldn’t in the past month. 

Hongjoong is right. Again. 

Your tears drip down onto his own face. San tries to speak, but evidently can’t think of anything to say to you. 

Hongjoong laughs at your side. 

You pull your hand back, bringing it back down and slapping San as hard as you can muster across his face. The smack rings through the barn, your hand stinging all the way up your forearm. 

San tries to clutch his cheek, but your knees keep his arms at his sides, and he instead looks up at you, stunned. 

“Say something.” You demand, finding your voice. 

He opens and closes his mouth, grasping for anything to say. “He’s lying to you— I swear it, I had nothing to do with Haseul, and I would never set you up, I would never, you can’t trust him, can’t trust anything that he says, (Y/n), really—” 

You hit him again. This time, he exclaims in pain as you feel your hand go numb. Seonghwa flinches in your peripheral vision and Hongjoong laughs once more.

“Fuck you.” You blink, more tears falling. “Fuck you.” You lean back, freeing his arms, which immediately come up to rest on your waist. “Hit me.” 

San’s face contorts, confused, “why would I hit you?” 

Absurdly, you smile. You smile wide. “Hit me. Do it.” You hit him in the chest, though lighter than you had his face. “What? Are you a coward? You can kill my best friend, but you can’t hit me?” Your voice raises, reaching a shrilling quality. “Come on! Hit me! Do anything!” 

San’s hands remain holding your waist, not moving. 

“Hit me so that I don’t fucking kill you! Hit me to show you at least think your miserable life is worth living! Hit me! Hit me! Hit me! Hi—”

“That’s really enough, (Y/n),” Seonghwa’s voice cuts in as he grabs your arm, keeping you from landing another blow to San’s chest. “You’re being childish.” 

You scoff, but it devolves into a laugh. “Childish? I’m being CHILDISH?” You wrench your hand out of Seonghwa’s grip. “Tell me, Seonghwa, please, how is someone supposed to react in this situation? What is the normal reaction? Enlighten me, please!” 

When Seonghwa doesn’t respond, you stand, turning your full attention to him. San’s hands easily slide off of you, though you remain hovering over him. He finally starts cradling his red cheeks. 

Seonghwa looms over you, his back to Hongjoong as he stares over his shoulder at you. You feel guilty for lashing out at Seonghwa, somehow, but it doesn’t stop you from fanning the flames. There’s nothing that could stop you, not in this moment, from bringing anyone else to your level. 

You make eye contact with Hongjoong, who has his arms crossed nonchalantly, an enormous smile on his face. You imagine that this night is just going peachy for him. Just how he wanted it to. Maybe, just maybe, you can ruin his fun. 

At Seonghwa’s expense. You hardly feel bad about it, though, as your eyes snap back to Seonghwa’s. 

“Without turning around, take a guess. Is Hongjoong watching you, his perfect little whore, or me, the spoiled brat who doesn’t behave?” 

Seonghwa sneers, a small laugh escaping him. Of course, he plays right into your hands. He exhales one shaky breath before grabbing your shoulders, using the grip to shove you as hard as he can, sending you falling back to the floor. You practically land on top of San, your legs resting over his waist, but you can only laugh. 

Seonghwa falls onto his knees in front of you, crawling until he can reach your legs. He grabs you by your calves, pulling you off of San until you’re practically underneath himself. You’re sure that he’s planning on strangling you, there’s a sweet little look in his eyes that tells you everything you need to know.

And you’re excited, you want him to kill you, you realize. Your laughing becomes intermixed with your sobbing as Seonghwa puts his weight on your stomach, the fury in his eyes blazing harder with each sound you make. 

Before you can truly get your way, though, San is grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his shirt, using all of his strength to pull him off of you. You hear the fabric rip as Seonghwa sprawls onto his back in front of you, and San takes the same position that Seonghwa had just had on you. 

You can’t find it in yourself to sit up, so you opt to just turn your head until you can see San. Vaguely, you can hear the sound of him hitting Seonghwa as you had just pleaded with him to do to you, and this only makes you cry harder. 

You turn your head in the opposite direction, and you’re greeted with the image of Hongjoong, still sitting contentedly. He glances down at you, but he doesn’t betray anything.

“Can’t you just kill me?” You whisper to him, hoping the others can’t hear it, “won’t you please just kill me?” 

Hongjoong frowns, then, slowly rising to his feet to come to your side. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it. 

You don’t at first, opting to continue looking pathetically up at him. From this angle, with the blurriness of your tears and the extreme perspective, Hongjoong really does look… ethereal. Angelic. Godly. Whatever the word is. You take his hand, allowing him to heave you into a sitting position just in time to see San land the punch that you’re sure breaks Seonghwa’s nose. 

It’s only in this moment that you realize San is screaming at Seonghwa, mostly incomprehensible phrases of anger. Seonghwa is trying to fight back, his hands clenching onto San’s shirt, slapping at his shoulders and face, thrashing underneath him, but San is too pissed to let any of it stop him. 

Hongjoong squats at your side, resting one of his knees on the floor. He doesn’t drop your hand, instead using it to pull you closer to him. He puts his face next to yours, making sure you’re watching the scene unfolding in front of you. 

“Doesn't this make you feel good? Seeing what San would do for you? Even after it’s all over?” He whispers so close that his breath tickles your ear. “It could always be like this. Everyone could love you like this.” 

Love? This is love? Your ploy to upset Hongjoong by including Seonghwa failed. If there isn’t love lost between the two of them, then what on earth about this is love?

Still, your heart skips a beat. 

You had completely forgotten (or, maybe, ignored) Jongho’s presence until Hongjoong turns to give him some sort of look that must tell him to stop whatever is going on. In the next moment, Jongho is resting a hand on San’s shoulder, barely having to pull at him to get him to cease his movements. 

Seonghwa turns his face toward you and Hongjoong, blood pouring from his nose and split lips. 

A sob escapes him, this time, before he turns to face the other direction. 

You really hadn’t meant for Seonghwa to get hurt from this. You just wanted to goad someone into giving you what you wanted, and he was easiest. You avert your eyes from him, wanting to give him the privacy he clearly desires. 

Hongjoong doesn’t care. He drops your hand, standing to go to Seonghwa. 

You look at San and Jongho. San is also sobbing, his knuckles torn to shreds in his lap. 

You don’t feel bad for him. You don’t feel anything for him. You’re sure the upset will come in the next few days. The bomb will drop, the emotions will explode, but now, in this moment, you couldn’t care less if he lived or died. 

Frankly, you couldn’t even care less about your own life. Haseul is dead. She’s dead. And she’s never coming back. You’ll never see her smile again, never text her that you’re bored at work, never hear her complain about her parents arguing again. Her parents. Her own parents. They’ll never see her again, and it’s your fault. Entirely. 

You look back at Seonghwa and Hongjoong just in time to see Seonghwa slap Hongjoong’s hand away from him, groaning as he turns his body to fully face away from his God. 

That can’t be a good sign. 

Hongjoong sighs, crossing his arms over his chest before turning on his heel to come back to you. 

Great. Just what you wanted. 

“Is she really dead?” You can’t help the question, squeezing your eyes shut as they fill with more tears. 

Hongjoong sits beside you, taking both of your hands in his this time. “She is.” 

“For how long?” You don’t open your eyes.

He takes a few seconds to answer, as if contemplating whether you should hear the truth or not. “She died the day she arrived.” 

You’re not sure if this is the best or the worst news that he could’ve given you. You’d believed lies for weeks, but at least she hadn’t been suffering the entire time, like you pictured. 

“Was it really San?” You still had a hard time believing it. Could San kill? Had you really shared a bed with him for over a month, not knowing that he had killed Haseul himself, believing that he hadn’t?

“No,” He admits, letting go of one of your hands, using his newly freed hand to rest on your cheek. You open your eyes, feeling your lips quivering with… every emotion on this goddamn planet. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Whatever. “Jongho killed her, and humanely at that. But San helped with the mess. I didn’t want it to be like this, (Y/n), I warned you.” 

And what could you say. He warned you. Very plainly. And you had disobeyed him. And look at what it cost. 

Hongjoong moves his hand away from your face, using it to wrap around you and pull you back into a hug. 

There's nothing to do anymore. Nothing to say. You cry into his shoulder, finally wrapping your own arms around him in acceptance. 

He rocks you, there, on the ground. “It might be hard to understand now, (Y/n), but everything I do, I do for you.” 

You nod. “Please don't make me see him again.” 

Hongjoong knows who. He strokes your head, smoothing your hair, “Of course, love. Of course.” 

Though you know that this is all because of Hongjoong, you still find his words comforting, his embrace grounding. You squeeze him tighter to you, appreciating the feeling of having at least one person on your side. He’s right, he’s so right, you can’t trust anyone else, not when this is how it turns out. 

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[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❛ 𝓑𝐔𝐌𝐏 𝓘𝐍 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓝𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. ❜

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you live in a world of comic book characters, just pure fiction. however, one night you stumble upon a man dressed in a strange costume who looks exactly like those comic book characters inside your house.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, little angst, goofiness, tension, mild suggestiveness (mdni), swearing, pet names, reader’s universe doesn’t have a spiderman, hispanic/latina!reader

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. randomly thought of this, enjoy! btw this is a repost because i originally posted this at the worst time ever. if you read this before, pretend it’s your first time again lmao.

you heard a light thud.

shutting off the water, you leave the unfinished soap covered dishes in the sink as you step away. drying your hands with a towel before tossing it in the sink as well. anxiety flows through your veins.

what the hell was that?

you live alone, besides your white terrier luna, in this house your parents left behind for you. you rarely invite people over due to work. the only time you do is for holidays, birthdays, or small gatherings with friends. other than that, you’re alone most of the time so hearing noises sorta freak you out.

maybe something dropped like one of your books from the bookshelf in your room. it’s an reoccurring thing. but it sounded so light for a book to drop. what else could possibly fell? was it even an object?

panic settles in your bones. glancing to your left where the living room is, you spot luna peacefully sleeping in her soft, periwinkle dog bed. of course she didn’t hear it, she’s far in doggie dreamland.

very slowly and quietly, you pull a knife out of the drawer and make your way towards the stairs. the noise came from up there. heart pumping out of your chest. blood rushing through your veins. frantic breathing due to the anxiety developing in you.

is it an intruder? a robber?

fuck. this is the last thing you wanted.

you just wanted to wash the dishes in peace before going to bed. why must this happen to you?

very slowly and steadily, you make your make upstairs. gripping onto the knife tightly, palm sweaty. your room is your first destination. as you make it up top, you can hear low grumbles from there.

fuck, there is someone here.

tightening your grip on the knife, you carefully walk towards your room. hiding behind the wall, right beside the doorframe, you turn a little to catch a sneak peek of the intruder. your eyes widen in shock.

a figure clad in a suit of vibrant red and dark blue. the fuck is that? a cosplay or something? you suddenly realize how tall the figure is. way too tall since your white dresser is literally half his size, right below his waistline. this bastard is muscular as fuck. broad back and his suit outlines each back muscle perfectly as if it’s sculpted. his shoulders also broad and thick. insane fucking biceps.

this dude is fucking ripped. he can murder you with his bare hands. probably snap you in half.

there is no way you can take this fucker down.

“este chingaletta…”

oh, he speaks spanish too? pinche cabrón.

the tall figure seems to be fiddling with something on his wrist. perhaps a watch or some sort.

inhaling a deep breath, you gain the courage to confront this intruder motherfucker. whether he’s a giant or not, he needs to get out of your house.

“get the fuck out of my house.”

the man swiftly turns around to see you standing at the door. the knife in your hand pointing at him. you witness the eyes of his odd-looking mask widening.

“hey… i’m not here to hurt you.” his voice is low and a bit musky. he slowly raises his hands in the air, a sign of surrender. “just put the knife down.”

“not a fucking chance.” you snarl with gritted teeth. “get the fuck out of my house or this knife is going straight through your fucking heart.”

a sigh escapes his lips, covered by his mask. “ay mujer… por favor, i’m not gonna hurt you.” his tone a mixture of pleading and frustration.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “hardly believable since you’re in my fucking house.”

he takes one step forward. “please just—“

“don’t!” you yelled.

“i’m not gonna hurt you! i’m not the bad guy here! i just accidentally teleported into your house!” he matches your voice level.

now you’re confused. “teleported? what do you mean teleported?”

another sigh from him, running a run over his masked face. “look, it’s hard to explain but trust me, it wasn’t my intention to barge into your house.”

“barge?!” you say in disbelief. “you’re invading my home! you’re a fucking intruder!”

“i’m not an intruder!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “at least it wasn’t my intention.”

you scoff. “pinches mentiras.” you eye him up and down. “what’s up with costume? this isn’t comic-con.” you gesture at his suit with the knife.

the man stares at you in disbelief but obviously you can’t tell because of his mask. “are you serious? you don’t know who or what i am?”

now the anger is replaced with confusion.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you don’t…” he quickly looks at the watch on his wrist, or what it appears to look like a watch. with a few taps, tiny holographic images pop up from it.

whoa, what the fuck? what kind of watch is that?

“that figures, you don’t have a spiderman in this universe.” he taps away the tiny images from the watch and looks back at you.

your face drops in utter confusion. “spiderman? the marvel character?”

“what? no—“ he sighs frustratingly.

“i’ve seen lots of cosplays but yours is different. cool but different. which spiderman are you supposed to be?” you lower the knife down to your side.

he blinks at you. “that’s not important. and i’m not cosplaying or whatever the hell that is—“

“well, i definitely haven’t seen that version of him. kinda badass, not gonna lie. the costume is cool.”

spiderman groans, on verge of lashing out, rubbing the temples of his forehand with a hand. “for the last time, it’s not a costume.”

you quirk a brow. “right.”

miguel rolls his eyes, growing more frustrated and irritated. “i don’t have time for this.” he grumbles, fiddling with his watch again. “chingado…” the man groans out of frustration. his gizmo isn’t working.

“having issues?” you taunt.

“cállete.” he hissed, still fiddling with his gizmo.

you snort as you walk towards him. “what kind of watch is that?” you tilt your head, staring at it curiously. it’s definitely more advanced.

“not a watch, a gizmo and i made it.”

your eyes perk up. “you made it? ooo lemme see.”

as you go try to touch it, he pulls back. “don’t.”

“oh come on, stop being ridiculous.” you try touching it again but he keeps pulling back.

“don’t touch it.” he scowls.

“sheesh, protective much?”

miguel rolls his eyes and you can definitely tell this time. “don’t you understand the concept of not touching what’s not yours?”

“i’m trying to help you, tonto.”

he scoffs. “you can’t help. you don’t understand how this works, mamona.”

now you roll your eyes this time. “fine, whatever. have fun struggling with your stupid ass watch.” you walk away, leaving the spiderman guy in your room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

not even 10 minutes, the spiderman guy heads downstairs and joins you in the kitchen. you continue washing the dishes you abandoned earlier. as you stack up the last dish, you head footsteps approaching. turning around while drying your hands with a towel, you see him standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“couldn’t get it work, huh?” you taunt, smirking.

“cállete.” he scowls.

luna awakes from her slumber, stretching out in her little bed then hopping out of it before she starts barking at spiderman.

“¡ay!” he exclaims, startled by the barking. “can you tell your dog to stop barking?!”

“nope.” you shrug, making him groan. “she barks at people wearing masks so… if you want her to stop, you know what to do.”

he mutters something before deactivating his mask. it disintegrates, revealing his identity. immediately and like mentioned, luna stops barking.

holy shit. he’s handsome as fuck.

chocolate wavy hair. eyes with hues mahogany. the sharpest cheekbones you’ve ever seen on a person, let alone a man. very, very plump lips.

“oh shit, you’re hot.” you blurt out.

miguel stares at you with wide eyes. hints of reddish pink on his cheeks, feeling warm. heart skipping a beat. “uh… thanks…?” he averts your gaze, trying to conceal his bashful face.

“damn, you’re the most attractive spiderman cosplayer i’ve ever seen.”

a groan escapes his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand. “chingado contigo… i’m not a cosplayer, i’m actually spiderman.”

you snort. “right, right.”

“is the gizmo not enough proof for you?! or the fact my mask disintegrated?!”

you ponder for a moment. sure, the watch is heavily advanced. watching his mask disintegrate is definitely a phenomenon. holy shit - is this guy really spiderman? at least a version of him?

“okay, fair points.” you awkwardly clear your throat. “so… you’re actually spiderman?”

“yes.” he shoots you an unimpressed look, clearly fed up with your oblivious attitude.

“which one?”

“2099.”

you raise a brow. “spiderman 2099? as in the year 2099?” you fold your arms over your chest.

“as unbelievable it sounds, yes.” instinctively, his eyes immediately glance down at your chest for a moment. your cleveage sticks out more with your folded arms. the cups of your nightdress hugs it perfectly. fuck, why did he look? yeah he’s a man but miguel feels like a pervert. he hopes you don’t notice.

you did but you don’t care. you don’t sense creepy vibes from him. just a dude who happens to be spiderman from the future or some shit.

“so you’re from the future?”

“technically yes but from a different universe.” miguel watched your eyes pop out in surprise. he groans internally, knowing this was coming soon.

“a different universe? what the fuck is this ‘rick and morty’ shit?” you huff.

his brows furrowed in confusion. “wha— no, listen. yes, a different universe. there are an infinite amount of universes of spider people called the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse.”

you stare at him completely dumbfounded. “that is literally the most nerdiest shit i’ve ever heard.”

miguel frowns. “well, that’s what it’s called.”

“stupid name.”

his expression falls flat. “your opinion is irrelevant.”

“it’s a fact, stupid long ass name. change it when you get back to wherever the hell you’re from.” you turn away, opening the cabinet to grab something.

“you’re annoying.” he sounds irritated.

“i am but i’m truthful.” you grab a container of conchas you recently bought. you set it on the island then head over to the coffee maker near the fridge. “quieres algo? un concha, café?”

he observes you with a dumbfounded expression. “you’re offering coffee and sweets?”

“well, you’re practically stuck here until who knows how long so…” you pour coffee in your favorite mug. “do you want coffee or not?”

miguel remains silent for a moment. taken aback by your generosity. nobody has ever treated him with such kindness or even ask him what he wants. it’s true, it’s uncertain when he’ll return to his universe. he’ll have to remain here for the time being. for some reason, he doesn’t mind staying here, with you.

“uh… si, pro favor.” he said sheepishly.

you grab another mug and pour coffee inside. once both mugs are filled, you turn around and slide his mug across the island.

“gracias.” miguel grabs the mug and brings it up to his lips. a low hum of approval as he tastes the warm, delicious liquid. normally he prefers black coffee for work but this one is acceptable.

you two talk for a while over coffee and sweets. miguel explaining the multiverse. talking about the spider society and its origins. his universe and life. everything seems so fascinating yet bizarre. apparently spiderman, or a shit ton of versions of the comic book character, actually exist. that’s a total mindfuck. part of you believes this could be a dream, hence why you pinched yourself several throughout the conversation. but, it was real. he was real.

“after all this time, you never told me your name.”

he takes a sip of his coffee then carefully placed on the counter. “miguel o’hara.”

you respond with your name, taking a sip of your coffee and a bite of your pink concha.

as the night progresses, you and miguel talk for hours. learning more about each other. miguel still finds it strange how things change drastically. he accidentally transported to a universe that has no spiderman. accidentally transported into a random woman’s house and being accused as an intruder. now having coffee and sweets with the woman he just met, having a genuine conversation.

part of him is still concern about how or when he’ll return to his universe. if his gizmo will ever be fixed and work properly again. but considering the environment he’s in, warm and cozy, miguel isn’t in a rush. in fact, he enjoys your company. it’s been a while since he actually sat down and had a genuine conversation with someone. back in his universe, he doesn’t have anyone. but in this universe, he does.

and he likes that.

maybe being stuck here won’t be so bad.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[mickyschumacher]

style was so fucking good HOLY SHITTTTT can u please please please do a part 2 xx

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after separating from carlos, you thought you would never ever have to see him again. but fate is demanding and it demands you bumping into him in a club. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), jealousy (bc where would we be without it), reader is younger than carlos but not like insanely, reader has vagina, angst, ferrari SLANDER, charles moves to redbull oop, GOOGLED SPANISH! I'M SORRY 😭, teasing, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies peeps!), oral sex, cumming inside, car sex = dangerous car driving, brief handjob, dry(?) humping, confession time AHHH, incorrect modelling stuff again lol, nicer!carlos ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: complicated ex!carlos sainz x model!fem!reader, bestie!lily he x reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6k+ (whoops)

𝐀/𝐍: a lot of people wanted a part 2 so.... here it is! i hope this is up to your par with what you were thinking about ♡︎ has bit of a build up but the smut is there! decently proof read... i think? my eyes are vv tired from these exams :(

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Three years.

A lot can happen in three years.

For you that meant with some crazy luck becoming the World's top supermodel. Kendall Jenner, Gigi and Bella Hadid, Emily Ratajkowski... whoever the top once was, you had put them all to shame. You were booked and busier than ever. You could've sworn you used to get your beauty sleep but now you were lucky if you could even get an hour let alone eight. The billboards and the magazines loved you and the public, god the public, they cherished you.

Never had the world needed a relatable, kind role model more and there you were. A diamond in the rough, waiting to be seen. You were even on your way of becoming an entrepreneur in sustainable fashion.

Everything was going your way.

It was a surprise for you. After Carlos, you thought you would be moping forever. And you did, at least for a few days. But when your manager and stylist advised you to release your pent up emotions, you thought the best way to do that was fully committing yourself to your work.

No more relationships. No hookups. No races. No Carlos.

And somehow, it worked. You were a single supermodel who won over the public. No races, no Carlos. You were bringing your company money.

But yet, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about Carlos. His smugness, the puppy brown eyes, his touch, the little signs that he cared; the softening of the side of his eyes when he looked at you before they were ridden with lust or his need to have some part of him touching you; his hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, or soft circles rubbed on your inner wrist.

You missed him.

But that was three years ago.

You and Carlos didn't even run in the same circles anymore.

For Carlos, three years meant extending his contract with Ferrari, although God knows why, losing three chances at a championship, fighting with Adami over the radio far more than he liked, and losing Charles to Red Bull. All while feeling very empty. No one really recognised who Carlos was anymore. Not his family, not the drivers, and not the fans. Hell, he himself didn't know who he was.

Whoever Carlos was right now... it was the mere shell of who he used to be.

He was drinking far too much for an F1 driver celebrating other's podiums. And now he got angry. He didn't get angry, he seethed. He let himself feel vexed in order to get motivated. But now he was just angry and torn but not for no reason.

Carlos was an idiot. He had made an irrevocably stupid decision. Separating from you was the worse decision he had ever made. And that said something considering he had extended with the most infuriating F1 team of the past few years.

How could he have even made that decision? Normally, he thought things out. He was an F1 driver, for God's sake. Some sort of thought could be accounted for. But he didn't know what it was... maybe he was too emotional the night he was with you. Whatever it was, he should've thought it out.

God, Carlos should've realised that all he needed to do was put more effort it. You and him... it would've worked. He would've stopped hurting you. He would've been fully committed to you.

But no. He had fuck to it up.

To say Carlos hadn't been stalking your socials everyday was an understatement. Cumming to your name was a pre-race ritual that had now turned into checking what projects you were doing. Not to be dramatic, but to him, it felt like you were just keeping him alive, giving him a reason to live.

Carlos couldn't even muster the courage to call you and ask if you could talk. He didn't deserve that. Like he said, you deserved more. And all these fans and the fame and money... you deserved all of it and more. Staying away from you was the best thing he could do for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos had made a terrible, terrible decision to attend the Miami after race party after saying he wouldn't. In fact, he couldn't. Not when he knew for a fact that you were in a club only down the street.

The temptation to see you was strong.

The club lights flared across the dance floor while the heat and humidity of all these dancing bodies clung to his warm skin. Carlos' hands shook silently at his side while Charles and Lando mixed in conversation. Every fibre of his body was telling his feet to stick to this floor. He couldn't see you. He was only going to ruin your night. He bit down on his lip, feeling a familiar ache in his chest.

But his heart... it was a strong heart. And it was telling him to take that five minute walk.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air," Carlos yelled over the music blaring in his ears. Charles and Lando gave the Spaniard a nod before returning to their conversation.

Carlos tried to make his walk to the club as long as possible, veering off to the side, staring far too long into the windows of other stores. But eventually, he stood in front of the thriving club.

You were celebrating having reached 50 Vogue covers, including the Big Four twice. You told your manager you were fine with having dinner at home but the refusal was immediate and came with the claim of you needing a break. So here you were, dressed in the most sparkly, skimpy, backless deep cleavage silver slip dress, dancing your ass off.

When Carlos entered the club, it was hard to miss you. How could he? You were the centre of attention, dancing around in your little dress that was fighting to cling to your body while everyone cheered you on.

He shouldn't of come. He knew it. Because now, he couldn't leave. No matter how much he knew that to leave was the right decision.

You, on the other hand, didn't notice Carlos so easily. You were having the time of your life, swaying your hips side-to-side as the beat coursed through your veins. Your skin was dotted with sweat while a handsome stranger had come up to you, clearly looking to hook up. And while you weren't looking to screw just anyone, you couldn't shy away from the little bit of grinding your body so desperately craved.

The euphoria wasn't as high as you had once felt but it was enough to keep you on your toes. Heat travelled through your stomach while your eyes closed and your head fell back as another man moved behind you. You were in a haze of pleasure that made your pussy ache.

God, maybe you were too desperate for some pleasure. Because why did it feel like Carlos' cologne had engulfed you? Why did the fire burning within you flare up even further all of a sudden?

Your eyes shot open and a gasp fell from your lips when you felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"Cariño," Carlos breathed out, hooded eyes peering down at you.

Your throat felt constricted. Your eyes watered with anger and shock.

"No," You said, pulling yourself away from him.

"No, no, no," You repeated while Carlos took a step towards you, hand reaching out to stop freaking you out.

"Y/N... I–" Carlos was cut short as you raced towards your table and picked up your purse and jacket, heading towards the exit doors of the club.

You could hear Carlos jog to catch up with you. Sighing, you put on your jacket, striding as far as you could in those stupidly beautiful heels you had worn. But you seemed to forget that he was an athlete at the end of the day.

"Y/N, please. Don't do this," Carlos begged, an inch away from you.

Your lips sunk into your bottom lip, ears attempting to block out the warm voice you had been craving for the past three years. Your heart was racing against your chest while your mind fell into disarray.

"Y/N," Carlos repeated, grabbing your arm gently.

You sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, feeling the hairs of your body stand straight. You turned and looked up at him with with reddened eyes, making him pause for a second.

"Three years, Carlos, three goddamn years... of nothing," You exasperated with the familiar words falling off your tongue all too easily.

"I know. I'm–"

"'... so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses.' Is that what you were going to say, Carlos?" You asked incredulously, arms folded as if they were going to protect you from all this sudden pain.

Carlos winced at your words, staring at you helplessly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I was doing fine... and you... what the hell were you thinking, Carlos?"

A silence settled between the both of you as the cold night air raced to cool down your flushed cheeks. Carlos breathed deeply. "I-I... I missed you, cariño. That's what I was thinking. That what I have been thinking for the past three years. I miss you all the time."

You stared at Carlos silently, chewing down on your lip nervously. This was what you wanted. You had waited all this time to hear those very words fall from his lips. Yet all you could say was: "So? That doesn't change anything." The lie made you crumble on the inside but you continued to speak. "You said it yourself, Carlos, we aren't good for each other. That I... deserve more."

"And you do!" Carlos spluttered, hands flailing about. "You deserve more than a better man, Y/N. You deserve the fucking universe. But I was wrong! I was wrong to say that we aren't good together. We can be good together. I think you complete me and if you let me even have the chance, I would be the luckiest man ever to be with you."

Carlos' hands were now gently holding your face, thumb gently brushing your heated skin. Your heart was now pounding in your eardrums. Your throat was caught. You felt impossibly warm. Your eyes burned, but no tears came out. "I... I gave you so many chances," You whispered.

Carlos' eyes softened at your broken voice as a sorry expression fell over his face. "I know," He sucked in a sharp breath. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself, cariño. But if I have to spend forever trying to make it up to you, I gladly will."

"Carlos," You sighed, closing your eyes. You were annoyed with yourself. Annoyed at the fact you were leaning into his touch and annoyed at the familiar heartache that always let him get away with what he wanted. "I'm terrified. I don't want to hurt again. I don't want to hurt you either."

Carlos felt his heart clench, jaw taut with irritation. Every fibre of him hated that you even had to say that. But you were right. You always were. He whispered softly, letting his forehead meet yours, "You won't. I promise. I promise to be a better man. Just please give me a chance... give us a chance."

You opened your eyes to see those desperate puppy eyes boring into yours. You brought your hand to the one holding on your face, rubbing it gently. You knew your answer the moment he asked. "Okay," You responded with a small smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Initially, it was hard to get as comfortable as you once were with Carlos. You took every step with caution and he could tell by the scrunch of your nose and the chewing of you lip when you pondered for a moment too long. It was eating at him but there was nothing he could do but fufill his promise to you.

Carlos took you out on several dates as opposed to the few he previously taken you on. They weren't grand. No. Instead they were intimate. Dates that showed he was putting effort in. Like the time he decided to have a dinner date at his house where all the food was prepared by him. It was disastrous to say the least but you were also convinced he had gotten his sisters to help him out given that there was burnt food in the trash and it's aroma covered by candles and perfume in the air.

A sunset picnic followed after that. It was one of your favourites. The sun was setting, of course, and the warm breeze brushed past you while you ended up reading one of your favourite childhood books to Carlos. He listened intently as his hands roamed your skin. It wasn't necessarily sensual but it was intimate. Like all he wanted to do was just bathe in your presence. And bathe Carlos did as he began to ask you questions about your childhood and your family.

It bugged him that despite being with you for some time, he knew nothing about you. At least not really. Knowing your body reactions felt superficial in comparison to finding out you had a family pet that you cherished so much, your financial hardships, or that your parents disapproved of your modelling. That really hurt him. You didn't have anyone close to you. And he had just left you.

Carlos mentioned to you how much of a polla he truly was, apologising for all you had gone through. And while you laughed at his comment, you thanked him, hesitantly pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

Carlos gazed at you as his heart throbbed at your action. He stared at you with a twinkle in his eyes. There was something about this moment... he wasn't quite sure whether it was the setting sun that made you glow or that breeze that made your hair gently fly while your perfume consumed him, but it made him nervous and happy.

Carlos smiled at your raised brows. "You're just so beautiful, cariño."

You sucked in a sharp breath. That look in his eyes... it was the same one you gave him when you were just mesmerised by his beauty. And now he looked at you the same way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Three months had passed and you had finally stepped into the paddock after what had felt like forever. Everyone was psyched that you were back here. Fans were screaming your name and the drivers had finally seen the reason behind the sudden change in Carlos.

"So... you and Y/N?" Lando queried carefully, watching you talk to Lily and Alex about all the things the both of you had missed.

Carlos peered over to you, catching your passing eyes. His heart skipped a beat at your little wave and smiling eyes. He grinned at you and waved back.

Lando watched the exchange with curious eyes, pulling a feigned pained expression. "Yeah... you and Y/N."

Carlos rolled his eyes at the man who had become one of his closest friends. "Yes, Lando, we're together. We've... we've been taking it slow. So I don't fuck it up."

Lando smiled at Carlos' words. He slapped his hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "Good," He chirped, before dropping his smile. "You better not. That's basically my best friend right there. You hurt her, you better keep an eye out for Lily and I, and Alex by association."

Carlos chuckled. "Imagine if Fewtrell heard that."

"What Max doesn't know won't hurt him," Lando shrugged.

Carlos smiled in amusement, finding you walking towards him with the previously mentioned couple. "What are you two trying to get my lovely lady to do?" He asked with narrowed eyes when you appeared with a suspiciously wide smile. A beautiful smile, but suspicious nonetheless.

You flushed at his words, taking in a deep breath. "I may have been convinced to do a bit of... ugh, golf."

Golf. Your most dreaded sport. From the moment you knew what it was, you could not think of a more boring sport to save your life. No offence to Lily, but it was an old man's sport. And every F1 driver playing it did not help. But Lily being the amazing girl she was had changed your mind.

Lando cheered and Carlos' eyes widened slightly. "How did you manage to convince her? Even I couldn't get her to join me. Me out of all people."

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. "I think your win from me golfing is a little different from Lily's. Lily wants me to learn."

"Yeah? And what do I want that is so different?" Carlos asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to me.

You stood on your toes a bit, reaching his ear. "Quieres verme con esa diminuta ropa de golf," You whispered in Spanish, pulling away from his ear. "Esa es la diferencia." You want to see me in those teeny little golf clothes. That's the difference.

You felt a familiar tingle creep up your spine as you met Carlos' darkened eyes and tightened grip on your waist. His tongue darted out, swiping his bottom lip while he eyed you carefully. You were a vixen. A final smug smile rested on his face. "You're right, cariño. That's exactly what I want."

Lily looked at you two blankly. "Anyone catch that?" She asked Alex and Lando, who both shook their heads. She sighed, "Leave it to us to not know one of the most popular languages in the world. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. Try keep your hands off each other, there's kids."

Lando gaped at Lily's side glance towards him. "Well I never!"

Carlos grinned at Lando's words, keeping an eye on you. "I'll try."

You drew a sharp breath. What kind of mess had you exactly set up for yourself?

━━━━━━━━━━━

To be honest, Carlos wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting when you had told him that your manager had sorted out a golf outfit since it was not like you were playing an official tournament. But when you arrived to meet Carlos, Lando, Lily, and Alex at the golf course, Carlos let out the most strained sigh he had ever released.

You were a model, sorry, a supermodel, you looked good in everything already. But you dressed up for his favourite pass time was killing him.

You stood in front of him in the sun visor that hid your long hair, wearing the absolute tightest sleeveless polo shirt known to mankind tucked into small little pink skirt that rested at the middle of your thighs.

God, you were leaving very little for Carlos to imagine. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do to you first: 'accidentally' splash that white shirt with water because he just knew by those nipples that you weren't wearing a bra or excuse the both of you to the bathroom where he could bend you over and fuck you senselessly.

Lily let out a low whistle when she saw you. "Y/N, the woman you are..." She clicked her tongue while shaking her head.

You laughed lightly as Alex look at her incredulously. "I'm right here, you know."

"Alex, are you a woman named Y/N?" Lily asked genuinely.

"I– no," Alex stuttered with furrowed brows while Lando grinned.

"That’s what I thought!" Lilly gave a smug smile, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek before linking her arm with yours.

Alex stood with Carlos, blinking blankly at your retreating figures. “I don’t get it,” Alex told the Spaniard.

Lando chuckled while Carlos placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “You don’t need to. It’s Y/N. Now come on. From what I know, you have a lot to learn from Lily.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Carlos was already bracing himself for whatever antics you were going to put up. He was expecting your full on ass up against him, teasing him to the point where he did end up taking you in the bathroom.

But you had decided to go the hard way.

When Carlos was teaching you how to hit the ball and what angle to use the golf club, he severely used the opportunity to put his hands on your hips. He thought you were going to fall back into his chest and press up on him. But instead you decided to listen to his instructions all so intently.

Then he saw it.

Your tongue darting out past those perfect lips of yours, wetting all those crevices with a natural sheen before you sunk your teeth to concentrate on hitting the ball.

And after he had seen it, Carlos couldn’t see anything else normally. Or he would argue that you wouldn’t let him.

No way was the slip of the golf ball accidental. Not when he watched you slowly bend down to get it, revealing your delicious cleavage in the so very unfortunate cut of your polo. Not when he watched your pink skirt cling to your thighs tightly as your lips jutted out to blow away the dirt from the ball.

It was a golf ball, for God’s sake. Of course it was going to have dirt on it.

And as you stood up, you turned so your ass faced him, skirt hugging your ass tight enough so he could see a sliver of your bare pussy.

Carlos could swear that he had never clutched a golf club as hard as he had in his life.

To make matters worse, all you did was strut away with a smirk while you shamelessly checked him out all throughout the games, leaving him with a semi-hard he tried his best to hide behind the thin handle of the club.

You were torturing him without even touching him. And he hated it.

Carlos couldn’t even excuse himself nor you to the bathroom after you purposefully decide to cling to Lily, who was suggesting different methods to play.

The dreadful day had finally come to an end as everyone began to feel the kick of playing golf for so long. You and Carlos bid goodbye to Lily, Alex, and Lando, after your boyfriend definitely did not inform you that you were going back home with him instead of your manager.

After packing your things away in Carlos’ red Ferrari, you happily took a seat in the front, letting out a small yawn as you stretched your arms.

Carlos quietly eyed you as he reversed out of the parking lot. “Tired?” He asked.

You nodded with slightly heavy eyelids. “It takes a lot of energy.”

“I agree,” Carlos nodded. “Teasing takes a lot of energy, hmm?”

Your eyes were fully awake now. You peered at the side of Carlos’ face. His jaw was taut and hands tightly gripped the wheel. You tried to hide your teetering smile but it was difficult. You just loved riling up Carlos. Especially sexually.

“A lot,” You agreed, also nodding before you moved your eyes out your window to prevent you from fully grinning.

Carlos internally sighed. You were a menace.

As he drove to his hotel, an idea popped into Carlos’ head. He knew the way to hotel and golf course like the back of his hand. He also knew that in two left turns, there was the most sketchy but quiet road in town.

Carlos pushed down the indicator, watching the left arrow blink rapidly at him while he turned the wheel. He could see your head turn to him in curiosity.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

Carlos smiled softly, shaking his head as if it was nothing while taking the last left turn.

You raised a brow. You feigned a gasp. “Is this where you kill me? Is this how I die? On some road in Miami?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Yes. How did you know?” He deadpanned.

Carlos parked the car in between some trees, ensuring that all the windows were fairly covered because no matter what, at the end of the day, he cared for both for your images.

Carlos turned to find your eyes already on him, waiting for an explanation. “You know the last time we met in Miami?”

You blinked blankly at him. “How could I forget?” You retorted sarcastically, covering up any last few traces of pain associated with that trip.

Carlos pursed his lips, smiling apologetically. He took your hands into his, rubbing them gently. “Well, when we were in the car, I had this vision—well I always have this vision but it was strong then, anyways—I had this vision of fucking you in this car, on the highway, ass on the wheel, making a mess on me, and making you cum so hard that you cover that Ferrari logo.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes dilated in pleasure. Suddenly you felt tingly all over your body and a strong heat pulsating in between your thighs. You pressed your thighs together at the thought.

“So I thought,” Carlos confused, smirking at your action, “although you’ve been a tease, I would still like to fuck the life out of you, cariño. Isn’t that so nice of me?” He asked as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You wish you had the urge to roll your eyes. You really wish you did. But your breath was caught in your throat and you just felt a dribble of arousal leak past your aching core.

Instead you moved over to Carlos, putting a leg on either side of him and brought your lips to his.

Carlos immediately responded, hands flying towards your hips, gripping on your skin while he intensely kissed you back. He kissed you not just as a starved man, but a parched man. As if your lips were water and all he could do was drink you.

Your stomach churned with a familiar fire of pleasure. Your skin raised with goosebumps as Carlos’ thumbs circled your skin through the fairly thin fabric of your polo. A muffled moan was lodged in your throat the sound of Carlos’ grunts.

Carlos’ hands moved from your hips to the hem of your skirt. His hands dipped under the pink material that had been enticing him all day, feeling the ample flesh of your bare ass. An audible moan came from his throat as you had moved your lips to his neck to stop drinking those beautiful sounds.

“You’re such a tease, you know that? No fucking underwear so I could see those juicy lips of yours? Were you just waiting for me to take you from behind? What if Lando saw? Hmm?” Carlos queried, groping your ass while his fiery puppy browns pierced into your eyes.

You let out a small whine against his heated neck, bucking your hips against his cock.

“You like that, cariño? The idea of getting caught?” Carlos asked even though he clearly knew the answer if he looked down at the dark stain beginning to form on the front of your skirt.

Carlos smiled softly at your impatient eyes, pressed your hips onto his groin. “Grind on me, cariño. Make a mess on me,” He whispered, taking your lips with his once again.

You moaned as you rocked your hips back and forth in his bulge. The wave of arousal you craved slowly creeped up on you. The hard textured material of his shirt felt like a sin against your pussy. Carlos’ hands helping you keep your pace and making sure you felt every part of hard-on set you on fire.

Smoothly, Carlos used one of his hands to sneak up your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers leaving you in a blaze as he grazed your skin. “That’s it, cariño, that’s it,” He murmured against your lips. His fingers confused past the apex of your thigh, nearing your burning core.

Fuck, were you turned on. The heat radiating off your pussy was dangerous. His thumb edged towards your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves ever so slowly.

“Shit,” you swore, arching your back against the steering wheel. Your pussy ground up against his fingers while trying to press further on his cock; entertaining both levels of pleasure.

Carlos felt his cock tighten painfully against his hands when he moved his eyes from you and down to where your pussy met him. God, you had made a mess. His eyes flickered back up, watching you obscenely cover the Prancing Horse. “Merde,” He cussed.

This was how he wanted you. Fuck. Making a claim on everything that belonged to him with your body. Just the way he wanted.

You could feel Carlos dip his head forward, giving a long lick to your right nipple. You were sure your white polo was now see through, letting your pebbled mounds become available for Carlos’ disposal. You moaned, feeling your pussy become sticky with pleasure as Carlos pulled down the cut of your polo, freeing your breasts from those teasing confines, watching them bounce in admiration before he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

You arched your back even further, pushing your breast into his mouth while the other hand resting on your hip moved to fondle your lonely nipple, leaving you to do the rest of the work. "Carlos," You cried out breathlessly, speeding the pace of your hips as a familiar coil began to unwind at the pit of your stomach.

Carlos knew that tone better than he knew his circuits. Unlatching his swollen lips from your nipple, he looked up at you, making you moan even further. It was hard to disagree that Carlos was a good looking man, but right now, you were seeing him like no other: puffy lips, sweat-ridden tousled brown hair, cheeks freckled with pinks and reds, dark lust-hazed eyes... all for you.

"Don't cum just yet, cariño. I need to be inside you," Carlos panted, his tongue swiping his lips drenched.

You shuddered at the action before looking at him in dismay. "Carlos. Papi, no. Por favor." Please.

Just when Carlos thought his cock couldn't harden any further, you had proven the impossible. He held your chin in his hand, forcing you to hold his gaze. "Don't do that, cariño. Don't papi me. I'm already being so nice, hmm? Be a good girl and listen to be, okay baby?"

You sighed in frustration but you hips eased it's speed, succumbing to Carlos without a second thought.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of your head, continuing to rub your clit excruciatingly slow. "That's my girl," He praised, pressing you right against the steering wheel as he lifted his hips up.

Naturally your hands fell to his shorts, eagerly pushing down the pair of clothing as far as you could in this space. Your mouth salivated at the large bulge in his grey boxers. It was like his cock was greeting you; aching to me to you. In awe, you put your hand over his hard cock, softly brushing over the pulsating bulge.

"Fuck," Carlos sighed, eyes closed, feeling like he was on an obscene high already. He felt you gently trace over his thick cock, going even slower when you reached his tip, painstakingly grazing his slit through his boxers. He shot out his hand, holding yours in place.

Carlos swallowed all the saliva that he had gathered after seeing your wide, almost innocent, eyes beaming at him while a sickly sweet smile sprawled across your face. Jesus. How did he ever let you go? Now that he had you, he most certainly couldn't.

You grinned, knowing exactly how to awake the monster within him. You pushed down his boxers, letting him fully settle into the seat of the Ferrari and his cock stand against his toned stomach with a shade that almost made it look like it was angry with you for taking this long.

Gathering all the saliva in your mouth, you let the hot clear fluid slowly fall from your lips and onto his cock. Carlos sighed at the feeling, thumb reaching out to gather the last few drops from your lips before you brought it into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the pad of his thumb, giving him a pre-show before you released him.

Carlos watched as you bent down towards his cock, using your hand to rub your saliva down his throbbing cock. You could feel him pulsing in your hands, dying to be inside you. You lifted yourself back up, signalling Carlos you were ready.

Carlos' hands skated up your skirt, grabbing your bare hips as he guided you over his cock. All this time he had been teasing you as awfully as you had teased him today, so when you felt his cock against your wet folds, you let out a gasp while you hips bucked against involuntarily.

"Jesus fucking Christ," You swore, shuddering at the intoxicating high swarming through your body.

Carlos' cock throbbed against your pussy. He loved your sensitivity, so he pushed himself through your folds again, tip rubbing against your stimulated clit. He grunted against you. He could watch your body defy you over and over again.

But as much as he loved it, Carlos had been waiting to be in you liked a starved man.

Carlos' eyes flittered up to yours while he slowly pushed his cock into you. He memorised you carefully. Every twitch, every quiver. Your parter lips, the frequency of your moan. The contortion of your eyebrows while pleasure laced your eyes. He could remember you like this forever; his beautiful girl.

"Carlos," You panted, "more, please."

"Your wish is my command, princesa," Carlos whispered against your skin, pushing his hips further into you. His hands tightened around your waist, the warm grip of your folds pulling him in like a drug.

You knew it then and you knew it know. Carols had bewitched you. You would never be able to get enough of this feeling. The feeling of his cock jerking into your pussy because he just can't control himself. Nor the feeling of sucking him in like a vice because you want him all to yourself.

Carlos moaned, thrusting his aching cock while he muttered obscenities as if he was under some sort of spell. For what it was worth, he was. Every day, you entranced him. But right now, the sight of you against the Prancing Horse that was waiting to be covered in your cum... your saliva-covered breasts bouncing, your arched back against the wheel... it was driving him crazy. You were driving him crazy.

Your hands travelled to his hair, lips grazing past the bridge of his nose while you groaned. Your fingers wrapped his dishevelled brown waves around them, giving his locks a slight tug that coursed down his body.

Your hips ground against Carlos harshly, attempting to take any extra sliver of euphoria. His cock drove in and out of you at a rate that left no innocence in this car. It was lewd; the slapping of your sticky skin against one another, your breathless pants mingling together, and the fogged windows occurring from your feverish skin. Fuck, the both of you were in overdrive.

You let out a small whimper when you felt your body start to shake. You looked down at Carlos, who was peppering your bare shoulder with long sloppy kisses as he continued to thrust. Your eyes softened and the coil in your stomach began to tighten. "Carlos, I–"

Carlos smiled at the urgency in your voice. He began to pick up his pace, let out a few breathless pants. "Cum for me, mi amor."

You shook your head. "No, fuck, fuck, I–" You closed your eyes at the nearing high but forced them to open again, finding those puppy browns staring you down with confusion and maybe, just maybe, a bit of trauma from the last time. But you just had to say it. "I love you, Carlos. I love you so fucking much, mi amor. And I'll love you forever," You sobbed out.

Carlos gazed at you with wide eyes, his pace faltering slightly. As much as it turned him on, his heart was probably ten times happier. He felt warm; complete. He softened his gaze, bringing one hand to your cheek. His heart swelled at your natural lean in. Brushing his thumb gently, "I love you so much, Y/N. So much. And I'll never forget to remind you until my very last breath. You're my entire universe, querida (darling)."

Your eyes watered with a sickening amount of love as your body was hit with wave after wave. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cursed, clenching your eyes, a few tears slowly falling. Your hips bucked up against him, reaching for the high as Carlos rubbed your clit in fast circles.

"That's it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cover the the entire fucking wheel. Make a mess," Carlos encouraged, pushing you against the wheel, making your body convulse even further at the new texture.

"Fuck!" You swore, pussy throbbing and hips involuntarily jerking, reaching your climax.

Carlos groaned at the tight clench around his cock.

"Cum for me, Carlos. Look at the mess I made. All because of you. All for you," You coaxed, riding your sensitive pussy over him slowly.

His eyes flickered to the black Prancing Horse covered in your arousal; each little crevice of the wheel soaking up your cum. God, the monster you made him... He grunted, speeding up his pace as the coil in his stomach began to unwind quickly.

"Fuck, fuck," Carlos moaned loudly, holding you tightly to him. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," He muttered like a mantra, hips stuttering against you. He twitched inside you, feeling the hot salty strings of his cum spill into you.

"Oh, fuck," He sighed again, head falling on your chest while you moaned at the feeling of his cum inside you, clenching just one more time. His cock throbbed with another small high, pumping the last few ropes of his cum into you.

You let out a slow exhale, lifting Carlos' head by tilting his chin to face you. You rubbed his face gently, leaving a trail of kisses on his face as you both calmed down. You eyed the fogged windows and turned to see the Prancing Horse that had started this whole thing in the first place. You laughed softly.

"Well that was a stylish vision you had there," You remarked with a grin.

Carlos grinned right back at you. "Oh, cariño, we are doing that at least once every week."

"Oh, really?" You teased, putting your hands around his neck. "Well this type of car sex is definitely my style," You agreed after some feigned thinking.

Carlos smiled, tucking your sweaty hair behind your ears. He placed a long kiss on your lips. "It's our style."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[pippin-katz]

The Awardist - Nicholas Galitzine & Taylor Zakhar Perez

I have to write down the best bits and record my thoughts while listening to this because I am completely losing my mind over what is our first real interview with the boys that was recorded in real time.

27:55 - right off the bat we got a great inside joke/reference from the host that had me cackle

28:19 - taylor being happy to see their faces and nicholas immediately shutting him down like "well i'm not happy to see taylor's face"

28:40 - taylor joking about putting a post-in note over nick's face lmfao

29:30 - the way they don't want to talk over each other, it's giving alex's bedroom flashbacks

29:40 - nick being like "oh! oh, it's good!" when dipping into the online response when the movie released lmfao 😆

30:33 - the silence following the social media question where they were apparently nodding followed by taylor saying they were texting each other like "mate" "mate" back and forth

31:20 - THEY TALKED ABOUT THE SIGNING WARS

31:44 - nicholas calling taylor "this little fucker" had me dying cause me and @meraki-yao were literally referring to him as that in our conversation on ig yesterday

32:00 - nicholas genuinely asking taylor "what possessed you to do this?"; it's giving storage closet in the children's hospital vibes when henry's like "why do you dislike me?"

33:04 - "take it nick" immediately upon being asked the dense question regarding fans reacting to their portrayals of henry and alex, and the way that nicholas laughs and stutters makes me think that taylor totally did that on purpose to mess with him lmfao

34:00 - taylor stopping to talk to fans regardless of where he is or where he's going and specfically mentioning how meaningful it was that people have said *TW* they were contemplating suicide when they read the book/watched the movie and that it helped them 🥺

35:40 - the host referred to the film as "a coming out story", which i don't really agree with as a label because the coming out portion is an added piece of their relationship as two public figures, but their love is the actual story

36:40 - nicholas referring to the film as "wholesome and funny" made me smile so much because it truly is wholesome

37:18 - not the host making the "top to bottom" joke 😭

37:58 - nicholas and taylor have talked about their friendship with each other and how they instantly clicked; nick knew within a few minutes of rehearsal that taylor was "his buddy" 🥺

38:41 - catch me squaring up with everyone who has made nicholas self conscious and self deprecating about doing so much intimacy work on the screen that he refers to it as "basically his thing" like that's all he's recognized for; i am so ready to punch some motherfuckers 😡

39:10 - "it's so fun now, seeing my mate at all these awards and stuff"; catch me fucking crying

39:24 - not taylor misremembering the "nicholas or joey" question as "who was the better kisser"; he totally combined the "is nicholas a good kisser" question with the "who has your heart tonight" question

40:05 - taylor talking about matthew's background in theatre and how they got to actually rehearse with each other; i will never stop being insanely grateful that matthew is a theatre guy

40:55 - the way i said "oh my god" out loud because i was so excited by the question

41:14 - improvised the "physicality" of the store room; i.e. they just fell on top of each other and clamored around 😂

41:32 - the way i literally gasped so hard that i started coughing when nicholas called taylor "tay", i am not even fucking joking, that was so fucking cute 😭

43:42 - fucking wheezed upon realizing where the question going

44:02 - the knowing way taylor was like "i will take this one" lmfao

45:10 - not me going so red from second hand embarrassment 🫣

45:44 - taylor bringing the jockstrap that nicholas wears in bottoms, and nicholas immediately adding "i won't even go into mary & george" 😂

47:51 - taylor finishing nicholas' sentence about matthew's direction for the cake scene; sharing a braincell lol

48:36 - taylor's dog passed away the night of the first day of filming like wow, that fucking sucks 🥺😭

49:05 - "everyone's looking at me with these sad eyes" made me so sad but then taylor said "do you want some tea?" in a terrible british accent lmfao

49:50 - nicholas complimenting and boosting taylor's performance while having such a hard time emotionally 🥺

50:49 - taylor bringing up running through the museum; i can hear the smile in his voice while talking about it 😭

51:28 - they filmed the kensington palace fight and the red room the week after nicholas got covid

52:40 - oh my god, the way you can hear nick grinning as he throws taylor under the bus for the sequel question 😂

53:30 - taylor wants a second book to base the sequel off of

54:03 - taylor used they/them pronouns for casey!! see? he knows, it was totally nerves

55:20 - it felt like it was over too soon, i desperately need more of them PLEASE 😭

This is the greatest thing that's happened in like, a month for me lmfao I am literally begging for more people to interview the boys about RWRB, I am so fucking desperate for more content of the two of them together. They are everything to me 🥺

Thanks for reading!! If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

[whenlilyfallsinlove]

jolene part 3

you guys the love for this series (which wasn't even meant to be a series!) is insane!!! tysm to everyone who has read it! tags for people who wanted a part 3: @girllety @simping4-2manyppl @penny-exe @hisparentsgallerryy @superxovas

"it's done. it's over." your voice interrupted remus from his book, after hearing your voice he looked up to see you. you looked.. dishevelled? and quite out of breath. that was probably because you had sprinted to the library as fast as you could, as you knew remus would be there.

ever since the night of the party, you had felt closer to remus. like he understood how you felt, more than james could for sure.

"you what?" remus responded. he was hoping you meant that you and james were done, but he scanned your face, and there were no signs of sadness, so surely you couldn't have meant that?

"me and james?" you said, looking at him like he was an idiot.

"WHAT?!" remus shouted, a bit too loudly, resulting in madame pince sending a dirty look your way. you were.. done? is it bad that his day had suddenly got better?

"yeah." you sigh, and take the seat beside him. you itched your chair close to him, probably so you didn't get kicked out of the library for speaking too loud. the closeness of the two of you, however, made remus' breath hitch.

"merlin.. are you.. are you okay?" he asked you, more quietly.

"i mean.. i suppose. i'm sad because i loved him but i was the one to break up with him.."

"you broke up with him?" remus interrupted, eyes widened.

"why is that such a surprise to you?" you teased.

"it's not it's not, sorry, carry on." he said frantically, a bit flustered.

"i told him.. that it was obvious that his heart wasn't with me.. and i didn't want to be in a relationship with someone like that." you recount.

"what did he say?" remus asked, he knew that he would probably get whatever james' perspective was later that night.

"he denied it, the tosser. we all know it's true. i even told him i wouldn't be mad about it!" you shake your head.

"i would be mad about it." remus said.

"yeah i would've been, but i wasn't going to tell him that." you chuckle.

"fair enough." he smiles at your laughter.

"then i.. i think i did something stupid.. i told him it'd be okay if he liked lily." you mutter.

"y/n, why on earth did you do that?" remus looked at you, exasperated.

"because!" you put your hands up, defensively. "i just.. i don't know, i'd feel better about it if we both moved on."

both moved on. both moved on. both. what did you mean by that? were you ready to move on? no surely, you couldn't be. if james moved on, would you? no no. wait. lily was one of your close friends, by giving james permission to like her, then maybe.. james would let him date you? a million thoughts ran through his head at once.

"well.." remus finally speaks, clearing his throat. "you're too nice for your own good."

for some reason, you felt your cheeks heat up. what was wrong with you? you broke up with your boyfriend a mere fifteen minutes ago, and now you were blushing at his best friend's compliments.

"thanks remus." you smile cheekily at him.

"it's alright, are you staying?" he asks you, almost hopeful.

"sorry remus, i can't, got a detention for "harassing malfoy"." you pull a face.

"i'll see you around though, thanks for always listening." you place a hand on his arm.

"it's uh n-no problem." he smiles, nervously.

"see you later!" remus watches you turn and leave, a small smile on his face.

~

it had been a couple of months since you had broken up with james, and you were at peace with it. although awkward at first, the two of you hesitantly became friends again.

at this moment in time however, your awkward friendship with james was the least of your worries. your favourite author had released a new book, and you were dying to buy it at hogsmeade.

the issue was.. literally no one could go with you.

"sorry y/n, i can't, quidditch training."

"sorry y/n, i'm studying."

"sorry y/n, i promised dorcas i would help her revise for the potions exam!"

the excuses were all too convenient. that left you with only on option left. not that you were complaining though, you had grown quite fond of the increase in time you were spending with remus. so much so, lily had accused you of fancying him again! something you had denied, with flustered cheeks. it did make you think though.

"remus?" you approached him in the common room, he was with sirius. james and peter were in a detention.. or something.

"y/n" he smiled at your presence.

"would you uhh.. want to go to hogsmeade with me?" you asked.

"oooooo" sirius teased, nudging remus.

"no- no not like that, i need to buy a new book.. and i don't want to go alone i just thought-"

"yeah, i'll go." he smiles at you.

"great, meet me here at 1pm tomorrow." you scurry off, feeling your cheeks burning.

oh my godric. you had a sneaky suspicion you were beginning to have a crush on remus.

"ugh lily!!" you faceplanted your bed, your head in your pillow, that night.

"i think you were right."

"of course, what about?" she smiles, teasingly.

"remus." you said, your voice muffled.

"what was that?" she asked.

"don't make me repeat it." you groan.

"no you can say it again!" she smiles.

"remus. i think i like him." you sigh.

"you're acting like that's a bad thing! remus is great." lily sits on your bed, where you were having your crisis.

"it's not.. he's james' best friend!" you groan.

"oh y/n.. that doesn't matter. james won't mind, your friends, aren't you? and you've been nice to him and gave him permission to date me. no idea why because it's never gonna happen! but still, he''ll understand." she reassures you.

"i don't know.." you trail off.

"y/n.. i think it's obvious remus likes you." lily pats your back.

"WHAT?!" your head shoots up.

"it's quite obvious isn't it.. whenever you're around he always has a massive smile on his face." she smiles at you.

you smile at her.

"I swear to godric if you're wrong-"

"I'm not. now tomorrow you need to get ready for your little hogsmeade date and-"

"it's not a date.. and.. how did you know about that??" you look at her, bewildered.

"i know everything." she winks at you, and you have a sneaky suspicion that tomorrow she was definitely not studying like she had said.

"fineeee you're the best though lily" you smile.

"you flatter me" she smiles back at you and you chuckle.

~

you admitted to yourself the next day you were nervous. you didn't even know why.. you were only buying a book. but still you had gone out the way to put extra effort into you hair, something that didn't go unnoticed by your dorm-mates.

"you look nice y/n, dressing to impress?" marlene teases you, as you made your way down to the common room.

"impress? who would i be impressing?" you playfully roll your eyes, and speed off, before anything else about the matter was said, to meet remus. he was sat, reading.

"remus?" you approached him; "you ready to go?"

"yes." he smiles at you, and gets up, following you out the castle.

"would you rather we walk or take the carriage?" he asks.

"walking would be nice." you respond.

he nods and you begin walking to hogsmeade, engaging in conversation.

eventually, you had arrived at hogsmeade. the bookshop was called "tomes and scrolls."

"would you like me to.. uh come in with you?" remus asks, blushing slightly.

"yes, thank you." you feel your face heat up.

he follows you into the shop, watching you pick up the book you so desperately wanted.

"i'll pay for it, if you want." he smiles at you.

"you don't have to." you splutter.

"but i want to y/n." his own confidence caught himself off guard.

"i insist you don't.. but maybe you could buy me a butterbeer instead?" you smile.

"like as in a date?" remus's breath hitched. you probably didn't mean it like that. why did he say that out loud? he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"like a date." you nodded, your cheeks burning.

"that'd be.. that'd be good. not good. brilliant." remus stumbled over his words.

"y/n.. i.. like you. alot." he mutters.

"you do? really?" you look at him.

"of course." he says, avoiding eye contact.

"oh remus, i like you too." you respond, smiling.

remus was caught off guard. he had finally got what he had wanted, after all this time.

you.

and he was happy. very. and so were you, by the looks of your smiling face.

[vivalabunbun]

Overdue Books and Ghost Stories

Summary: If the scholars at the Akademiya are so smart, why can’t they remember a few due dates? 

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags: Alhaithamx GN! Reader, Shy! Reader (you hate eye contact), Librarian! Reader, Fluff, SFW, attempts at humor, pure fluff, written before 3.6 so Alhaitham is still acting grand sage, slowish burn?, Akademiya setting, slight mutual pining, Sumeru boys drive the librarian insane, especially a certain gray-haired bookworm. 

Authors note: I just wanted something light-hearted and fun to write as a reward for getting stuff done. Shy people who force themselves to be responsible and hate eye contact unite! Enjoy!

He’s being followed. 

Alhaitham can feel the fleeting presence lingering just a few seconds behind him.

The warm late afternoon breeze caressing through his grey locks, his cape trailing behind, and belt clattering with each fluid step. Teal-orange eyes faced forward towards the hectic stall-lined streets, but his attention was focused on the ghost that trails him from behind. 

Every merge into the crowded pathways lined with vendors, every sharp turn down hidden allies, every street he circles back on, the traces linger like a dream fleeting from the memories of deep sleep.

He can’t allow a ghost to accompany him home, lest it decides to haunt the house. 

Alhaitham had wasted enough time walking in aimless circles, if he can’t throw off the ghost, he concludes he must exorcise it. 

Long legs pivot into an alley confined by stone walls and empty of shouting merchants and haggling shoppers. One, two, three slow strides towards the pale dead end that faced him. 

“I know you’re there. Might as well stop with the games.” 

Ghosts don’t exist outside tales told to innocent children to keep them tucked tightly under the covers. However, the iniquitous villains that terrorize the plot do, and they’re known as humans. 

Were they going to fight or flee? 

The presence behind Alhaitham finally materialized into something more than a fleeting dream. He glanced over his shoulder, hand ready to summon his sword. Behind him stood an unassuming figure, with no sensible ill intentions, their hands up as a sign of surrender.

Eyes adverted elsewhere like a child caught trying to sneak one more piece of candied Ajilenakh Nut. 

The viridescent robe that enveloped your figure paired with the matching barrette, there’s no mistaking your identity. Another scholar from the Akademiya, great. 

With power comes prestige, two notions Alhaitham couldn’t care less for. He was more than satisfied as a simple Scribe filing away applications in the archives away from searching eyes.

Those days were a luxury stolen from him by the title of “Acting Grand Sage”. 

Now it wasn’t an uncommon sight for some researcher to come floundering through the crowded halls of the institution towards the ashen-haired man. From time to time there would be the bold student, agglutinating to his side with their wasted attempts at a conversation.

With great power comes great inconveniences. 

Inconveniences that unabashedly believed their polite smiles could divert his teal gaze away from the insincerity. That offering a cup of coffee along with a rehearsed elevator pitch could sow the seeds of a superficial bridge.

One where they’d walk across with forms awaiting a signature along dotted lines or a towards a potential high seat at the Akademiya.

Their desire for this absent bridge coerced them to shallow down their pride, spurring this fruitless endeavor despite the Acting Grand Sage’s indifference and unreturned interest in small talk.

First, he was pressured into taking a position he didn’t want, then he became the target of people’s irrelevant aspirations, and most damning of it all even his privacy’s being invaded. To put it frankly, Alhaitham’s tired of it all.

Surely, it couldn’t take this long for the great institution of wisdom to select another leader, when can he finally stop this sham act?

“I’m off the clock, come find me on the next working day.” He’d prefer it if you didn’t. 

The frigidness of his words with their thinly veiled politeness didn’t cause a single muscle of yours to budge. 

“The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has been overdue for 6 weeks now, please return it to the House of Daena immediately.” A hand extended out in front of you, open and expecting. 

No introduction, no chivalrous greeting, no frivolous small talk. Alhaitham certainly wasn’t expecting this from the strange ghost that stalked him. 

Oh, so that’s where your eyes were. Honing in solely on the book currently clutched by his hip. One of the many books he signed out of the House Daena on a whim, simple academic works to stimulate his mind during the respite between busybodies and paperwork.

One he then promptly cast to the side by the beckoning of a journal from the restricted access collection. Only after a pile of files was removed from his desk that his eyes rediscovered the title. 

“I understand, I shall promptly return it by the end of the next work day.” 

“No, a student has requested this title for a week now, after they’re done with it, you may sign it out again.” Voice firm and steady as you gestured for the book to be returned to your hand. 

No. An unfamiliar word spoken in a tone now foreign to the towering man.

His keen eyes observed your homogeneous uniform of standard greens and gold, you must be a regular librarian employed by the Akademiya. The Akademiya currently under his jurisdiction.

How bold of you, or has this job already drained you of all sense of self-preservation? 

Regardless, your statement wasn’t without merit. The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium doesn’t belong to him, and who was he to inconvenience a standard employee this Wednesday afternoon?

It wouldn’t serve him any benefit to be in the ire of a librarian, Alhaitham concludes it would be wise to just surrender the book. So he relinquished it.

From your pocket, your other hand produced a slip of parchment. 

“Here is the late fee, please address the payment to the House of Daena by next Wednesday.” 

Instead of offering the Acting Grand Sage a cup of coffee, you offered him a fine in exchange for confiscating his book.

With a slight bow, the ghost was exorcised, ambling back into the busy streets of Sumeru City until your back disappears from his teal eyes. 

Alhaitham was left with no introduction, no coffee, and no book to spend the evening with. Even still, his mind has found something else to ponder about to pass the time.

Alhaitham slowly rejoins the buzzing city streets, the chattering voices carried by the cool breeze that rustled his cape and made his ash locks brush his cheeks. 

‘How refreshing,’ he thought. 

 When the current Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya was announced most people never heard his name before. Have they ever shared a class together? Were they ever in a group research project together? How could someone so brilliant escape the eyes of eager upstarts?

They could’ve had a prominent headstart in their careers if they’d built those bridges all those years back. 

To be fair, you would’ve fallen into the clueless demographic as well. Were the two of you in the same graduating class? If your job didn’t require you to check the library ledgers every day, his name would’ve eluded you.

Even with a brisk thumbing through of the ledgers, it’s hard to miss the repetition printed on the pages. 

Alhaitham was a regular name to be found in the library ledgers, you’d even argue he’s the biggest patron of the House of Daena. 

However, it wasn’t the only pattern that would jump out to even the blindest man in Teyvat. What would be printed next to each book signed out by Alhaitham? Overdue.

Yes, you would think a man brilliant enough to plan the greatest insurrection in Sumeru’s history could remember a few due dates. But the ledgers refute that impression. 

Before, the Scribe turned Grand Sage would simply return the books 1 or 2 weeks overdue and pay the fee at the same time.

Was it due to the increased responsibilities that now befell him or the increased financial freedom granted by a bigger paycheck that caused this pattern of extended tardiness? 

Regardless, The Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium has returned back to the House of Daena, much to the delight of a hysterical student who pushed off a paper for a bit too long.

That Wednesday afternoon was the first time you spoke to the mysterious man of infamy, in an alleyway tucked away from prying eyes. He gave you the book without much of a fight and accepted the punishment without complaint. 

If only it was always this easy. 

First impression overall? The whispers in the halls were an inaccurate depiction of Alhaitham. To you at least, he was a rather tolerable man with a good sense of regulations, handsome hands too.

Was your first impression bad? Impudent even? Script rushed by the pounding metronome of your heart, skipping over a few key sentences, like an introduction. 

Oh, you also forgot to call him Grand Sage… Surely he won’t hold such a petty grudge over that, he seems sensible.  

You flipped through the library ledgers one last time before your duties ended for the day, stopping on a page as you pursed your lip at the familiar name next to The Critique of Pure Reason boldly stamped overdue. 

If only the Grand Sage would fix this sloppy habit of his. 

Alhaitham is very much aware of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon, the frequency illusion. The tendency to notice something more often after noticing it for the first time. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the exact inception of this phenomenon he was experiencing, a certain meeting in an alleyway. 

–

“General Mahamatra,” A distinct cadence enticed the Ashen-haired man’s focus away from the matra delivering his daily report. 

There’s a hush that befell the halls of the Akademiya today, no reason to speculate, it’d obvious to even the dimmest of fools. Cyno, the General Mahamatra, returned today from the sandy wastelands. 

In fact, Alhaitham had just concluded his brief discussion with the electro wielder a few moments prior. The General left the paperwork delivery to the woefully ignored matra currently in front of the dendro wielder. 

The faint reverberation of the dreaded title paralyzed the few scholars and researchers that dared roam the in presence of the General. Intense scarlet eyes centered on the viridescent clad librarian that called, your eyes seemed occupied with the object encased by tan fingers. 

“Law and Order of the Pursuit of Wisdom is overdue.” A steady cadence incited the General. 

“By how long?” Spoke an authoritarian tone. 

“8 weeks, General.” There wasn’t the slightest pause from you. 

The dense tension within the enclosed space was palpable, many pairs of eyes fixed on the scene happening under these fluorescent lights.

The seconds counting down to the decisive moment, what will become of the incautious librarian after this show-down? 

…

“My apologies, I should’ve returned the book before I embarked, may I pay the fee now?” The treacherous edge was absent from the general’s voice. 

With a swift nod, you turned on your heel, leading the General Mahamatra toward the judgment awaiting him in the House of Daena. A sight so flipped on its head, the witnesses of this event couldn’t seem to decide which direction was up anymore.

–

“Mr. Kaveh.” 

A librarian intercepted a certain famed architect’s search for a certain Grand Sage evading the responsibilities piling up on a polished desk.

A spectacle was certainly about to happen in the House of Daena, Alhaitham gathers from his position just covered by a towering bookshelf. 

“Oh, yes?” The furrow between blond eyebrows dissipates in an instant, his fury distracted for now by the polite use of his name. 

“Were you the one to sign out The Death and Life of Great Design, Mr. Kaveh?” You held out the title in question, holy text for every architecture, your impassive eyes trained on the cover. 

“That’s correct, I’m certain I returned it in time, has anything arisen?” The light of Kshahrewar raised a brow at the sudden inquiry.

“Would you mind explaining this, Mr. Kaveh?” 

The book was pried open, revealing to the world the chaotic collage of jumbled words and sketches haphazardly scribbled among the print with the faintest whiff of wine.

Even from this distance, the bold vandalism was observable to his teal eyes. So was the slackened jaw of the architect with his now saucer-sized eyes. 

The closest equivalent Alhaitham could compare your current expression with was a parent’s gaze toward the discovery of a crayon mural on a wall. Three pairs of eyes observing the blatant defacement of literature. 

“The replacement cost of this book is 141,471 mora, it was an antique print.” Your hands gingerly shut the covers, hiding the book’s shame away. 

 “H-how much??” 

“I’ve written the amount down on this form, please address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of this month, Mr. Kaveh.” From your pocket, you presented the blonde with a fine that exacerbated his dreadful finances. 

With this, your performance concluded, a mannered bow before swiveling back to your post at the library’s front desk. Leaving the famed Kaveh silent and color absent from his face, the slip of parchment pathetically pinched between ailing fingers. 

Stepping back into the shadow of the shelves, Alhaitham reaches a hand up to enable the feature of his earphones that preserves his sanity. He already had a premonition of what was to greet him, might as well enjoy the fleeting moments of silence while it lasted. 

–

The sky over Sumeru was a brilliant blue, tufts of fluffy clouds cushioned the earth from the harshest rays of the sun, but not enough to embargo the comforting warmth. It’d be a shame to throw away such beautiful weather in the confines of an office.

Enough justification for Alhaitham to enjoy a quiet reading session under a hidden pavilion, just to the side of a neglected pathway at the Akademiya. 

Just because a place is neglected, it doesn’t mean it’s completely abandoned. The scurrying of two sets of steps made their presence known along the uneven path. 

“Please return Handbook of Qualitative Research to the House of Daena,” your stony voice perked his ears. 

Those words weren’t directed towards the unseen Acting Grand Sage, no, they were addressed towards the researcher whom you were just a few seconds behind. Impassive gaze concentrated on the overdue book in his arms. 

The exasperated man huffed out a breath, bringing a hand up to rub at his dry eyes drooping under the weight of the discolored skin hanging under them. Alhaitham hypothesizes that this must have gone on for a while. 

“Listen, I know it’s overdue, I promise to return it once this report is finished.” The researcher tries to quicken his strides. 

“No, it’s late 4 weeks now, please hand over the book.” That signature gesture made its appearance, palms open and expecting, your pace never once faltering. 

“Could you please make an exception, just this once?” Tired exasperation morphing into a sharper edge. 

“There are three other patrons queuing for this book, I’ll add you to the list and notify you once the title is available again.” Indifferent eyes never once left the imprisoned book. 

Ah, your words became the straw that broke the Sumpter Beast’s back.

“Three? THREE??! I don’t have the time! If they’re students they can wait, this project has dragged out for months, months! It’s only now drawing to a close, oh for the love of Lesser Lord Kusanali, just let me-”

Fatigue overboiled into raw frustration, the researcher now lively as ever, moved senselessly close to your face. 

One boot-clad step makes its appearance from behind a pillar. It’d be best to de-escalate the situation now before the potential for a physical alteration manifests into reality.

Especially for a librarian that’s too focused on a book to recognize the looming threat. As Acting Grand Sage, maintaining order was the priority.  

Instantaneously, a lone finger shot out towards the azure sky, with it followed the wearied eyes of a man mid-manifesto. The hypnotically soothing hue of the vast space momentarily ceased the researcher’s grievance, reminding him of the bigger picture, of the bigger world. 

Bringing him comfort with the realization that these sleepless nights won’t be permanent, that this too shall pass. 

Was that the goal of your diversion? Probably not. Regardless, the hostage has been rescued into your secure arms, back where the book belonged.

The view of the sky must’ve reminded the researcher’s body of its limit, as his movements faltered back sluggishly. Bloodshot eyes blinking at his now empty hands. 

“Please address the payment to the House of Daena by next week.” A slip of parchment produced from your pocket fills that void for him. 

Without another word, the librarian trekked back up the beaten path, leaving behind two very silent men. With only the researcher’s figure left in sight, Alhaitham’s mind quickly lost interest.

Withdrawing back behind the cover of the marble pillar, he couldn’t help but recount the details. 

‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’. All names coined by the sleep-deprived minds of slouching students and destitute scholars awaiting the saving grace that was their paycheck. 

Perhaps it’s that inorganic cadence of your voice. Or how one of your hands reaches out to demand the return of printed works while the other indited the transgressors with a note worth months of coffee.

Maybe it’s the focus of your catatonic gaze solely upon the books in question, denying wrongdoers a chance of mercy formed by eye contact. 

An itch tickled the back of Alhaitham’s throat, the same sensation that tugged the corner of his lips upwards towards the brilliant sky.

How did such a fascinating individual slip away from under his nose for so long? 

Almost there, just a little longer, the doors to the House of Daena came into view, you’re so close to reprieve. One hand still clutching the freshly recused book against your chest, you pried the door to the staff room open. Empty.

Thank the Archons. 

Ducking into the sanctuary devoid of library patrons and chattering coworkers, sealing the solid wood behind your back, you could finally breathe.

Lungs burning for the taste of oxygen again, the pounding in your chest subsiding with each greedy gulp. Drained figure finding solstice against the sturdy door.

You achieved your goal, so why were you so defeated? 

His eyes got close, dangerously close. In your peripheral, the puffiness of his eye bags were in full detail. Your lids shut firmly as if shutting out the intrusive thoughts that threatened to infiltrate your mind.

It’s fine, everything is fine, your eyes never met. There’s no arrow in the back of your heel, the script has not gone off course. 

What a childish Achilles heel, eye contact, the most basic requirement for a conversation between peers and people. One you can’t fulfill. Even the briefest moment of connection will crumble the mask you dawn, exposing the puny coward to the world.

One look and you’ll be thrown off script, your career’s saving grace. 

Book overdue?: “Please return [Title] and address the late fee payment to the House of Danea by next week.” 

Damages?: “Please compensate the House of Daena for the damages done to [Title] by next month.”

Need a book that isn’t available?: “I’ll add your name to the waitlist for [Title] and inform you when it’s returned.” 

Lines rehearsed time and time again, now ingrained into your tongue, spoken by instinct. It’s not a conversation, it’s merely a stage play, performed by a coward shielded by a crafted blanket of indifference. 

‘The General Librarian’, ‘The Punisher of Fines’, ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’.

Better that they interpret your aversion to eye contact as malice instead of cowardice. After all, the world is not kind, especially not towards the meek. Papers and delegated responsibilities suddenly thrust upon those too shy to voice their dismay. 

What could the meek do? Nothing. So they’ll silently grit their teeth and bare it all as a doormat trampled by those whose voices don’t stumble and shutter. 

A scheme you’ve fell victim to time and time again within the walls of this hallow institute of knowledge. An experience under oath by oneself to never repeat again.

The intermission is over, the performer must return back to their positions. You unlatched the door, stepping back into the fluorescent lights of the House of Daena. 

Alhaitham is aware of the frequency illusion, however, he’d argue that it’s no longer an illusion. The ghost has come back to haunt him. For what reason? Alhaitham’s not sure. Surely his books aren’t that overdue, and if they were then why hasn’t your hand appeared in front of him? 

Instead, you left traces, whispers of your presence in the form of handkerchiefs and pressed flowers on slips of paper.

The evidence found beside the Acting Grande Sage’s lunches and piles of applications, his teal eyes always just catching the briefest viridescent wisp fleeing the scene of the crime. 

The ashen-haired man finds great delight in abstruse books, the rare feeling of reading a line more than once to grasp the concepts formed on the page.

He enjoys the sporadic occurrences that challenge his sharp mind, it’s good to feel fresh thoughts run through. 

Has Alhaitham found an archaic journal tucked away in some dusty corner? Perhaps he found a handwritten copy of a book, one with fewer than ten in existence. Was it a long-forgotten text that challenged contemporary beliefs?

Surely, to baffle the man known as Alhaitham, the scripts must have something reality-shattering. Like something saying that the azure sky, with its moon and sun, were nothing but mere imitations.   

No. It wasn’t any print signed out from the restricted collection in the House of Daena that had Alhaitham’s mind pondering the slightest nuances. It was the librarian, currently penning his name down in the ledgers, that perplexed the towering man. 

Humans are flawed in the sense that they’re uncomfortable with the concept of ‘unconditionality’. Everything has a fair price and equivalent exchange. One back was scratched in return for the same. So, what did you want? 

Were you trying to form a bridge? One crafted from slips of paper and thin decorative fabric? If so, then why has your introduction yet to reach his ears? 

The eyes are the window to the soul. Windows that offer indispensable insight into the other person’s agenda and convictions. For the Acting Grand Sage, it’s easier for him to gain access to the restricted vaults in the House of Daena than the librarian’s eyes. 

Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is a menace? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

Could it be the nagging of Kshahrewar students, whining over the unavailability of their holy text, that made you hypersensitive to the treatment of printed works? 

The students should direct their grievances towards the ‘light’ of their Darshan, the one that defaced their holy text. You’re a librarian, not a magician you can’t make books appear from the abyss. 

It was a coincidence to witness the Grand Sage, Alhaitham, enjoying a shawarma wrap under the shade of a stained-glass pavilion. There’s nothing wrong with a man just having his lunch. However, there was something very wrong with how his other hand held a book.

Paper becomes discolored in the stained area and transparent as molecules of oil fill the spaces between cellulose fibers. Over time, the parchment will become brown and brittle, the ink lifted by the fatty acids. 

But what can you do? Interrupt the Grand Sage’s lunch? Lecture a superior on proper book care procedures? 

You’re not dense. 

Still, you could take some preventative measures. Done in the form of a handkerchief carefully folded just behind his right shoulder. He seemed too engrossed in the text to perceive your proximity to him. It was just for a few seconds anyways. You retreated. 

The next incident happened within the wall of the House of Daena, where food and drinks were strictly forbidden. It was a slow day, with nothing much to do besides returning a few books back to their proper homes along the hundreds of shelves. 

During one of the many trips pushing the cart back and forth along the path, a certain head of ashen hair with teal streaks fell into your peripheral. It must be a slow day for him too. The Grand Sage certainly made himself comfortable, desk piled with stacks of books strewn about. 

The purse on your lips returns as one side of your cheek is sucked in. A few of the books were opened and placed paper-side down on the smooth table. You witnessed him losing interest in his current text, letting it join the spread bodies of its fellow brethren. 

Laying a book face-down breaks the binding and weakens the hinges, where the covers attach to the pages. Some of those titles have existed for more than double your combined ages, think of their poor spines. 

Out of pity for the aged scripts and for your own patience, while passing his table from a pocket you slipped out a clumsily made bookmark.

Fashioned from scrap paper, craft supplies, and one of the many Sumeru Roses that dotted the paths in this nation. A new hobby of yours that’s proven itself useful. 

With your duty fulfilled you returned back among the towering shelves. 

–

The job of a Grand Sage is demanding, much more demand than the job description of a librarian, you understood that. However, surely there are enough hours in the day for him to have lunch and read separately. 

The position of Grand Sage means he often has to determine the best policies and actions. So why can’t he read one book at a time, close it properly, then pick up the next? 

Being the Grand Sage must be time-consuming and hectic, but he could at least send someone to return his books before the due date. 

How many handkerchiefs did you purchase in the last month alone? How many yards of decorative string? Is it possible to make the Sumeru Rose endangered? Would it be appropriate for you to itemize your purchases for reimbursement by the Akademiya? 

For a person that enjoys reading printed works, it seems that he’s only concerned with the contents of the book and not its physical well-being. A menace to literature. 

You were the unlucky sheep tasked with delivering the new budget proposal for the House of Daena. Stepping into the grand office after an unnecessarily long elevator ride, you wondered what violations will greet you this time, or if the elusive man was even here. 

Ambling towards his desk, eyes focused on the budget in front of you, only switching position once the polished wood came into view. 

Ah, he had another book face-down on the desk with one of your bookmarks just off to the side. He almost had it. Glancing up, your world momentarily stilled. 

The Grand Sage was in his office after all. Chest gently rose and fell, face supported by the back of his knuckle, long lashes closed. Thank Archons, he’s asleep. Your heart restarts its tempo. 

Your eyes quickly snapped back to the cover of the book, The Symposium, you recognized that title from this morning’s flip through the ledgers. It’s overdue.

There’s not even a point in sighing, you expected this. Flipping over the philosophical work you gingerly placed the bookmark in properly, then shut the covers closed. 

Curious eyes wandered back to the sleeping figure in the board seat. His ashen hair looked soft as it fell across his face, lips slightly parted as quiet breaths exhaled.

From his lips, your greedy eyes began to trail down his covered arms, all the way down to the bare break that exposed his robust arm-

You stopped yourself, he’s asleep. You must be reading too many books from a certain island nation.

Is it unprofessional to think that the Grand Sage, the figurehead of the Akademiya, is attractive? If you kept these thoughts to yourself then it shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

You left two pieces of parchment on his desk. 

‘I’ll give a one-week extension, please return this title to the House of Daena before then.’

Alhaitham certainly didn’t expect to find this from ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ when waking from a nap, he wondered if it was conquered by the remnants of sleep. 

Or perhaps it was their parting gift, one last lingering trace before the ghost that haunted him for these past few months retreated back into their world. No more handkerchiefs left by his lunches. No more pressed flowers to decorate his desk. His teal eyes were unable to catch a very specific hue of viridescences. 

Did the ghost slip out from under his nose again? 

–

There isn’t much of a reason for Alhaitham to be at the Pardis Dhyai, after all, he’s not a Amurta scholar. Just a chore from this temporary position. His boot-clad steps made their way up the stone path blooming with lush vegetation, the view was almost enough to make up for the troublesome journey.  

Keen eyes honed in on familiar ebony ears from the doorway to the greenhouse. Oh, Tighnari is here? What a rare sight. 

“Please pay the late fee by the end of the week.” A certain cadence seized his attention. 

“Yes, yes, I get it,” Tighnari sighed, moving to place his closed pen where he left off in the book. 

“Chief Forest Ranger, please use this instead.” From your pocket emerged an all too familiar violet. 

“Oh? Did you make this yourself? Mm, a Sumeru Rose, on my way here I noticed that these plants don’t seem as plentiful recently.” The forest ranger observed the bookmark in his gloved hands. 

“I wouldn’t know, sir.” 

Oh, so you gave those bookmarks out to anyone indiscriminately. It made sense, you’re a librarian, employed to help the patrons of the House of Daena with their literary needs.

It didn’t mean much just to hand out a few slips of paper. Something annoying and greener than the foliage scratched at Alhaitham’s neck. 

–

At the Pardis Dhyai, you had a duty to fulfill, as did he. Not an appropriate time to initiate a conversation.

Thus, the ashen-haired man can only mull over the situation in the stillness of his own home. A blond architect sent out to fetch groceries to account for a certain damages fee. 

A lone finger taps rhythmically on solid oak while the opposite hand supports his pondering head. As quickly as you came, you left just as suddenly. As capricious as the wind, slipping through the gaps of his fingers just as easily.

How does one catch a ghost? 

Beryl gaze travels the length of the workspace, over the scattered sheets and abandoned quills, landing upon negligently stacked covers. A scheme conquers itself into existence.

Throughout history, many methods and rituals have been used to summon beings from the great beyond. As a scholar, who was he not to test those hypotheses?

The Norton Anthology of World Literature; Overdue 5 weeks

Academic Charisma and the Origins of the Research; Overdue 5 weeks

Cases on Academic Rights and Justice; Overdue 5 weeks

The Symposium; Overdue 8 weeks

Patron: Alhaitham 

Ah, you can’t let this continue. It’s time for ‘The Ghost of Due Dates Past’ to collect their dues. Even if you wanted to bash your head into the ledgers. 

–

Just beyond the threshold of a pavilion offering shelter from the sun's rays stood a familiar caped frame. Unabashedly reading The Symposium, back resting against the pillar. 

Plugging the title into your script your lungs muster up a deep inhale, it’s time for the coward to dance on stage. 

“Grand Sage.” You stopped a few paces away. 

There was the gentle clatter of his belt and cape, the weight of his gaze now resting upon your shoulders, but your eyes were honed in on the cover in his clutches. You got his title this time. 

Alhaitham feels he should give bygone scholars and minds more merit, a ghost can be summoned, an incentive is needed for the ritual. 

“Please return The Symposium immediately, and address the payment to the House of Daena by the end of the week.” Like rehearsed, your hand reached out, palms awaiting the smooth back of the book. 

His half-gloved hand shut the pages together, rotating the book horizontally, it slowly travels the distance to your hands. Your eyes chaperoned every movement, legs eager to return backstage to the House of Daena. 

Just as the smooth cover brushed against the clammy skin of your palms before your fingers could fully enclose around it, the title suddenly took a detour. With it followed your attentive eyes. 

It’s a childish scheme really, like a schoolyard bully using his vertical advantage to hold the object of desire just out of reach. As the saying goes, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Such elementary actions hold some merit… because they worked. 

Attentive eyes clashed with teal, stunned irises that dilated faster than the thump of your heart. You got to witness the Grand Sage’s features in all their glory for the first time, so his beryl eyes also held some citrine in them. 

Instantly, your neck snapped to the side. But it’s already too late, the coward dropped their mask, shattering at their feet. Revealing to the world the scarlet face of the wimp whose sheet was stripped off their heads, there was never a ghost, only a performer.

You were standing in the shade, yet it felt as if you stumbled into the desert. 

Alhaitham’s indebted to the fact you don’t look people in the eyes, such an event would prove disastrous for this institution of wisdom and rationality. Such a sight should have limited access he deems. 

A sweet breeze blows through the pavilion, cooling his cheeks and yours the same, however, the ears hidden under his earphones still burned. 

Throughout the House of Daena, the soft fluttering of pages turning and quills scribbling down notes could be heard. At the front, a librarian glances at the clock slowly ticking down to the hour of freedom. 

“I would like to return these,” spoke a husky voice. 

Your eyes traveled up from the freshly stacked books up toned forearms, reaching their final destination on a pair of impartial teal irises. 

Opening up the ledger, you swiftly flipped to a familiar name. Scanning the titles you noted each one down. 

The Uses of Literacy; due in 2 weeks

The Great Conversation; due in 2 weeks

Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity; due in 2 weeks

Patron: Alhaitham

“Thank you for returning the books before due, have a great evening.” You bowed a little at the Grand Sage. Gathering up the books into your hand and placing them in the return cart. 

It’s past 5:30 pm, the Acting Grand Sage is now off the clock. Thus, he didn’t let one second go to waste. Long legs taking swift strides out of the grand doors of the Akademiya, skillfully dodging the searching eyes of ambitious scholars.

Ambling down the stone pathways to the bustling city center. 

Entering the favored tavern of any famished local, Alhaitham places his order. Watching the clock as Lambad packed his two to-go bags.

Dropping the mora off on the counter, Alhaitham seized the freshly made dinners into his hands, exiting the tavern. Merging back into the crowded pathways until he reached his front door. Shifting the bags into one hand, he turns the silver key to his abode. 

Placing the takeout bags onto the polished kitchen table, his teal eyes once again wander towards a clock, 6:10 pm. 

He prepares two glasses and a bottle of wine from a secured cabinet. It’s the weekend now, there’s no risk in enjoying a few glasses tonight. Just as the ashen-haired man finished setting the table, the unlocked door lightly creaks ajar. 

Your frame soon comes into view, arms stretched above your head to loosen the tension that comes with a desk job. A breathy yawn followed the release of tight muscles along your back, walking into the kitchen where Alhaitham stood. 

“You’ve worked hard today.”

You hummed in agreement, hand gently rubbing the fatigue from your eyes as the delicious scent of tandoori roast chicken beckoned your nose.

Food and drinks were strictly forbidden in the House of Daena, and you’re quite ravenous. Advancing toward the paper bag located on your side of the table with an eager bounce in your step. 

Only to be blocked by a toned arm. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, my librarian?” Inquired a low voice. 

You glanced up at the hurdle that dare separate you from a delicious meal, lip pursed out just the slightest bit. 

“I returned my books before due, desired behavior requires positive reinforcement.” There’s a glint in his beryl eyes. 

You huffed, you should’ve known he was feeling a bit cheeky today from the moment he stepped foot into the library. Still, he’s right, good behavior deserves a reward. 

Tenderly your hands clasped around his soft cheeks, guiding his face downwards as you straighten your back. His ashen locks tickled you as you awarded the towering man his prizes. 

Your lips gingerly press themselves against his features, the warmth of your burning cheeks felt soothing to him, and you could feel the upward pull of his lips.

Once on the forehead, once under his eye, once on the nose, and… one final time against his soft lips.

Quickly pulling away, the slow blink followed by a slightly quirked eyebrow tells you enough about his thoughts. 

“The last one was a thanks for the food.” You turned your flaming cheeks away, settling down and releasing your meal from the confines of the bag. 

Your lover hums in understanding, a cheeky smirk ever so clear on his usually stoic face. Regardless, he moves to his side of the table and unpacks his dinner, filling two glasses with fragrant wine.

A clink signified the start of your dinner ritual, performed away from prying eyes. 

Somewhere during the comfortably quiet dinner, Alhaitham’s hand by habit inched towards the book placed just off to the side, violet bookmark recording his last endeavor among the text. 

Just as quickly as it started, his hand stopped. Like a stern swat, your eyes pierced into the back of his hand. A silent warning. He withdrew his hand back to his side, deciding to practice proper dining manners, for you of course. 

Satisfied, your attention returns back to the seasoned meat and sauces on your plate, fork and knife quickly getting to work. 

Alhaitham’s perfectly spiced food took a backseat in his mind, eyes more interested in observing the endearing fullness of your cheeks as you chewed.

Inquisitive irises returned his stare, he sees the teal that reflected off. How could the corners of his mouth not lift at the sight in front of him?

Please keep your eyes on him, so that he may continue to watch you for now and for the far future. His librarian. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt8

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

A/N: First I wanted to say thank you to everyone for all the kind messages I've been receiving, I keep rereading them and tearing up. It lets me know that there are genuine people in the world and that I can take a few days or a week to finish a request. Sorry this part took a bit longer due to the short break I took, I'll try my best to get the request I have out in a timely manner!

warnings: cursing

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

A drive to Lily's that normally would've taken 25 minutes depending on traffic only took Lando 10 and I think the way he is flooring it right now has been the fastest he's ever driven in his life. I mean anyone could've easily mistaken him for Max Verstappen in this moment and rightfully so, my bastard of an ex-boyfriend and baby dad is an absolute dick for what he just did.

I get being upset that I'm pregnant and that my boyfriend right now is treating me 10x better than you ever will but actually spoiling the gender for us AND spoiling the fact that I'm carrying twins is on another level of insanity.

When we dropped Yelena off, Lily had told us she wasn't going to be expecting a baby pick up anytime soon. Which by the way, God bless Lily for just being able to drop whatever she had planned for today to be able to watch my kid while Lando and I dealt with baby daddy drama.

The blaring sound of a ringtone is what yanked me from deep in my thoughts. I picked up the phone to look at the caller ID before answering and placing it on speaker "Carlos, now is really not a good time". I said while running a hand over my face to try and ease some tension building up.

"Logan's at my place." Lando's knuckled gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of his name.

"Why is he there and why does he need to have a conversation with you present?" I questioned

"He told me to tell you and Lando to meet him here to talk to you but wants me present and he thinks Lando is going to kill him." Carlos started, doubt coating his voice as he talked.

"I FUCKING AM" Lando screamed as he pressed down on the gas pedal harder.

I’ve seen Lando upset and even angry before but what I was seeing from him right now wasn’t either of those, this was pure hatred. Lando was seeing pure red in his vision as he was driving, almost hit a pedestrian (who shouldn’t have crossed but people don’t pay attention to signs).

Now that Lando knows he has to book it to Carlos’ place instead of Logan’s he makes a sharp turn, which could’ve easily flipped the car if you weren’t as much of a skilled driver as Lando is.

"BABE! I KNOW YOU'RE MAD AND ALL BUT DON'T CRASH THIS CAR AND KILL ALL 4 OF US!" I screamed as I grabbed ahold of the center console

Something about the fear in my voice as I screamed at Lando seemed to get through this barrier of red he had coating him and he seemed to ease up on the steering wheel and drove a bit more safer.

-

Arriving at Carlos house, we were greeted with Carlos standing out front. Lando and I got out of the car and started making our way to the front door of Carlos' luxurious house while Carlos started walking towards us, meeting us halfway.

"Ay, I talk to Logan. He meant no harm pero I think he did. He is in the living room." Carlos said as he patted Lando's tense shoulder before turning his attention to me. "I'm so sorry Logan did what he did. I feel so bad but just know that I'm here for you with whatever you need." Carlos added while he pulled me into a hug.

I've always loved Carlos' hugs because of the level of comfort they always brought was just unmatched. If you're sad, have a Carlos hug, if you're happy, have a Carlos hug, if you don't want a hug, have a Carlos hug. Moral of the story: a Carlos hug can fix everything. Well, almost everything.

"Thank you Carlos, I really needed that hug. I just-" The sound of glass breaking is what caused me to stop mid-sentence and I turned to look over at my boyfriend, only to find him no where in sight.

My heart dropped to my feet when I was met with no sign of my boyfriend and all I could hear from a distance was arguing. Carlos wasted no time in spinning on his heels and running into his house and into the living room where all the arguing was taking place.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IN YOUR MIND, YOU THOUGHT IT WAS OKAY TO SPOIL A FUCKING GENDER REVEAL BY POSTING IT ON INSTAGRAM AND ON TOP OF THAT SPOILING THE FACT THAT WE'RE HAVING FUCKING TWINS!!!" the voice of Lando booming louder as I inched closer to Carlos' living room.

"I DID IT BECAUSE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! YOU TOOK MY BABY, MY LIFE, MY GIRL, YOU TOOK IT ALL! I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR!" Logan shouted in rebuttal, his face contorted in a way I've never seen before and his skin as red as a tomato.

When our eyes locked, I could see Logan's eyes soften but when he opened his mouth to say something, Lando cut him off.

"I DIDN'T 'TAKE' YOUR GIRL, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE IN A HOUSE WHERE SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DOING SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER EVERY MOVE. I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE IN A HAPPY AND HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE LOVED BY A REAL MAN! I SHOWED HER EVERYTHING YOU COULDN'T AND YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOU'RE A COWARD!" that seemed to set Logan off because the second the word "coward" came spilling out of Lando's mouth, Logan lunged towards him in an angry manner.

Before they could make any type of contact, Carlos was in the middle trying to set some type of boundaries between them.

"YOU GUYS ARE NOT FIGHTING IN MY HOUSE! LOGAN, OUT NOW! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!" That seemed to be enough for Logan to walk away but not before stopping in front of me, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath against my skin.

"I hope I never see you again until your fucking funeral, slut." Logan walked away brushing his shoulder past mine as he did.

I knew Logan felt some type of way towards me since I left him while I was pregnant and refused to give in to all his promises of being a better man for me but hearing those words coming out of his mouth hurt. I always hoped we would be able to work it out for the sake of Yelena but after what he said, I don't know if we can, even if I wanted to.

Everything after what Logan said was blur, I don't remember him leaving, I don't remember Lando running after him and Carlos after Lando, but more importantly, I don't remember my legs giving out under my weight and me collapsing to the ground.

All at once everything started to hit me like a semi-truck. The pain in my knees after the fall, the ache in my heart but also the excruciating pain in my abdomen.

"BABE?! BABY ARE YOU OKAY? CARLOS GET THE CAR STARTED! WE HAVE TO TAKE Y/N TO THE HOSPITAL!"

-

The whole car ride to the hospital had to be the worst 15 minutes of my life. Every bump or sudden brake of the car increased the pain in my abdomen by 10. At one point it literally felt like there was an elephant sitting on me, restricting my oxygen intake.

When we finally arrived, Carlos quickly parked in front of the ER doors before rushing inside. Less than 30 seconds after running into the hospital, a group of doctors and nurses came running outside with a gurney.

Seeing them, Lando swung the car door open and quickly got out, allowing them better access to get to me.

Getting transferred from the back seat of the car to the gurney hurt just as suspected but they quickly rushed me in so they could evaluate my symptoms to tell me what's wrong.

No matter how much pain medication they gave me, the pain was still too much to bear.

"Do you want us to give you something to sedate you?" The student doctor said. She sounded genuinely hurt at hearing how much pain I was in.

"YES! PLEASE, I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" I screamed and I watched as she grabbed the vile of liquid.

Just as the student doctor was done giving me the sedative, I heard the doctor come in.

"So, unfortunately I've got some ba-AH NO! WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?"

"I- Uh, Gave her a sedative?"

"YOU'RE NEVER SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WITHOUT CONSULTING ME! THE SEDATIVE IS GOING TO DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD!" that was all I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

-

After I fell unconscious and was of no use, my doctor made his way to the waiting room to have a talk with Lando in order to figure out the steps going forward.

Once Lando locked eyes with the doctor, he shot up from his seat "Doc, how is she??" Lando asked as he searched the doctors face for answers.

"Unfortunately your girlfriend has a rare condition that affects the babies called Monochorionic Twins, which is where the babies share the same placenta and amniotic sac which can cause tangling of umbilical cords, imbalance of nutrients, blood and problems to other vital organs. Your girlfriend also has a history of major bleeding, vomiting and dehydration during pregnancy which also puts her at risk. We have to operate to save them, the babies have a 25% chance of survival and would have to be in the NICU for many months whereas your girlfriend has a 75% of surviving with minimal damage to any part of her reproductive system. " the doctor started, he tried to look and sound as sympathetic as possible.

"What are you saying Doc?" Lando asked, his breath and hands shaky and his knees trembled beneath him.

"You have to choose who we save, your babies or your girlfriend."

-

Again, thank you guys so much for the overwhelming amount of support I've received in the past few days. I appreciate and love each and every single one of you guys and I hope you enjoy this part.

Unfortunately this series is coming to an end soon but I really don't want to say goodbye to it yet.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 1: Rimming

Paring: Kakashi Hatake x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Rimming DUH, anal fingering, teasing, slight begging, little bottom twinky fuck me daddy feminine male reader, no actual sex, enemies to lovers? I think that's it

Word Count: 1,307

Fuck him. Fuck his pretty silver hair that I just want to run my hands through while he eats my ass, his muscular form that must have been crafted by the sage of six paths himself, his beautiful attention catching eye, his mysterious mask, his (what I hope is) insanely large dick. Just fuck the whole thing (I wish).

Of course, the only person you could be thinking of is the one and only Kakashi Hatake, copy ninja of the leaf, and the hottest mother fucker to ever exist. Oh god did you have an obsession with him. Having wet dream after wet dream about him, screaming his name while masturbating, and it doesn't help that you catch him staring at you all the time almost as much as he catches you staring at him.

This whole obsession started a month ago when you saw him reading one of his goddamn sex books in the middle of the street. You walked over to him and asked why he was reading erotica in a VERY public place, and he just looked at you "Because it's hot." he stated matter-of-factly. The nerve of some people, from then on you two would see each other walking around, say hi, go your respective ways. It's been that way ever since; stolen glances and fuck me eyes since.

Until now. You were done with man after man not fulfilling you like you think he may be able to, maybe, it's a complete guess but he just gives off the vibe. Anyway, you saw him reading his demented sex shit again when you decided to make your fantasies a reality once and for all. You walk behind the bench he was sitting on and read the words on the page and HOLY SHIT IT'S GAY RIMMING. You mentally scream into the pillow like a 15-year-old girl who just found out her crush is available, which is kind of like what's going on.

"Uhm, can I help you?" Kakashi questions in his horny inducing voice, with a little annoyance sprinkled in through all the underwear wetting.

"Oh sorry, am I disturbing a public jack off sesh." You coldly state with a smirk on your face, hand doing a little masturbation gesture.

"Do you mind." he says rhetorically, the twinge of annoyance from earlier much more noticeable now.

"If you didn't want someone to talk to you then why are you reading 'that' on a public bench in the middle of the street again?" you sassily question.

"Because I wanted to read outside, privately." He answers, you look at him like he's the dumbest man in the whole world.

"Then why, in the absolute fuck, are you reading in the street you attention whore." you rhetorically ask, the previous sass now developed into genuine frustration as you walk around the bench to be right in front of him.

"That's cute coming from you." he chuckles.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

"Don't act dumb, you have been trying to get into my pants for weeks now." he exclaims, you start to blush, ensuring that what he said is true.

"Don't act so high and mighty with me. I've seen you look at me too bitch." you state. He stands up, his large frame completely dwarfing you, his eyes almost angry. You do a cartoonish and audible gulp, the fear enhancing the horniness.

It's quiet for a while until he leans down,

"And what of it" he whispers in your ear and grabs you ass tightly, not caring if anyone sees. You let out a soft yelp at the sudden sign of attraction. You're completely stunned, not knowing what to do. He realizes this and before you can think any more, he holds you close and grabs your ass tighter and whispers,

"My place." It wasn't even a question or a request, it was a demand. One that even given the choice you wouldn't say no to.

Before you know it you're already on your way to Kakashi's place. He's giving you a piggyback ride to save time, and because he wants that juicy cake as quickly as possible, his mind is going crazy with your legs wrapping around him.

Finally, you make it to his place and immediately you both rush into his room. Right when you both enter you get off his back and onto the bed. Your legs spread as he takes off both your pants and underwear and tosses them both to the side.

"Now, turn around and bend over." already making demands and he hasn't even bought you dinner yet, not that you care because without a single moment of hesitation you are already on your hands and knees.

Without warning he immediately put his long skilled digit into your readily awaiting hole. He moves slowly as he starts to open you up. All the while you let out quiet moans.

"Your little moans are so cute." he said. Suddenly you feel a second finger enter you. He stays at the same excruciatingly slow pace. While he's pumping his fingers, he starts to feel the rest of your ass, rubbing it sensually and squeezing at the sensitive skin.

He puts in the third finger and his speed starts to pick up. Now your moans start to get louder as his three fingers stay at a steady and quick speed. He pumps them in and out over and over with precise repetition.

his fingers start to curl inside you, twisting and turning inside you perfectly. It's at this point that you are officially a moaning mess. The all too familiar feeling churns into your stomach. His fingers start turning and hitting your sweet spot consistently.

Then the feeling of relief washes over you as his fingers twist and hit your spot for the final time. You let out a loud moan and crash into the bed, cumming without even him putting his dick in you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just feeling inside you as he picked you up and brought you to your hands and knees again.

"Not yet sweetheart." he says as he starts to rub and massage your ass cheeks, caressing them to his desire. He gives you a quick and sharp spank, you cry out in pleasure from the surprise as he watches you ass jiggle in awe.

He puts his mask down and licks your ass, putting small and harmless love bites from time to time. Each lick and bite getting closer and closer to your hole. You start begging him to just devour you already. "Please, god I've fantasized about this please." you cry out, wanting, no, craving for his tongue.

"Well since you asked so nicely." he calmly states, though you can tell the excitement in his voice, aware that he wants this too. He licks lines on your cheek until FINALLY taking small licks on your entrance. Your spine chills in anticipation and pleasure and your breathing becomes shaky.

He licks languid circles on your entrance slowly. His hands are still caressing the rest of your ass. Your legs are shaking due to the stimulation and your cock is as hard as can be. He stops his simple licking and finally puts his tongue in your ass.

It starts off slowly but develops quickly into a fast pace, his tongue going in and out of you. You are now officially a moaning mess as his tongue is assaulting your hole. He continues this and then starts to put his fingers back in your hole while his mouth is still doing its job.

The familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build up again as his talented hands and mouth works on your asshole. Your moans crescendo until finally you climax for the second time of the night.

And you're not done yet.

THE END

[mschimdt]

The Stripper

mike schmidt x f!reader

warnings: so much things man, m recieving, breeding kink? dom reader, stripping bro litteraly idk just read at your own risk

2.5k words

---------------------MINORS DNI-------------------

.

mikes been stressed out lately, his job as freddys going awfully, hes been working there for just over a week and the weird shit thats happened to him there is fucking insane

he caught the animatronics moving on the cameras once, blood stains everywhere (which he cleaned up) and then he met vanessa, she told him what type of shit goes down in this placr and now hes terrified, he only goes there to prove to his aunt that he can keep a job

today was jist an ordinary night, mike was doing a night shift as a security guard at freddys, he usually just slept through his shift because who the fuck wants to break into an old abandoned pizzarea?

apparently someone did, a loud smash woke him up, when he looked at the cameras, it was a group of teenagers exploring but one of them got the attention of the animatronics and is now throwing things at it trying to stop it from chasing him, he got cornered in a room, mike watched him get his upper body get bit off on thr cameras "oh shit" he whispered to himself he realized he had to leave, or he was next after those teenagers he checked the cameras once again, to see where the animatronics are not giving a shit about the people that broke in, when he made sure the animatronics were distracted, he made a run for it, towards the exit

thats where he saw vanessa, holding her gun "the fuck happened mike?" she said, aiming her gun at the hallway infront of them "s-some kids broke in- one of thems dead i sae him on the cameras!"

"shit, we need to get out of here" he was looking at her confused on why her eyes widened, he looked behind him, there was an animatronic rushing their way, "HOLY SHIT" he yelled, running for his life throigh the exit door, up the stairs, and into his car where he was struggling to put the keys in

once he managed to get them in, he quickly drove away, once he was far enough he picked up his phone and called vanessa to make sure she was okay

she picked up "hey vanessa u good?"

"yeah im fine, i dont think those kids are tho"

he spoke to her for a bit before ending the call, parking in some random area he didnt recognise , he sat there for a bit, head against the steering wheel as he processed what happens

'if i keep working there thag might happen to me' he thought

he was abut to leave the unknown area before he noticed a sign above him 'strip club huh' he thought to himself, it was still 3 am, after arguing with himself for a while, he convinved himself to go in.

he took out the car keys, leaving his car, as he walked in purple lights blinded his vision, as he adjusted, he realized the security guy at the door was asking for his ID, "may i have your ID sir?"

"yeah- yeah sure" he handed him his ID, the man read it and gave it back to him and noded, as mike walked in. there were men recieving blowjobs and lap dances

he seated himself on a couch facing the stage, where a woman was dancing, as she finished her preformance your name was called, your stage name 'play kitty' he thought to himself, what a weird choice , as you walked on, mike stared at you, not believing his eyes.

you were the most beautiful thing hes ever seen he stared at you dancing on the pole mesmerised by you

you looked at him, all the guys here were the regulars, exept him. you've never seen him here before, he had his arms crossed across his chest while he watched you

you made eye contact with him- quite a few times on accident, he was an attractive looking guy

you finally finishrd your preformance, walking off the stage, where alot of guys followed you begging you to get a room with them, but you replied "i dont do private bookings!" the guys were still pooling around youx a few leaving after they heard what u said, but a few stayed still begging.

mike got bavk to his senses 'why would a woman as beautiful as her want me when she has all these guys anyways' he said to himself, going to walk around the club to look around, he caught you walking somwhere in the corner of his eye, but he iust ignored you, he couldnt stop his breathing speeding up though, your clothes were really revealing. g string, with a string bra

he walked somewhere, and sat down. opening his phone to check with max and to make sure that abby was okay

he felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned his head around, eyes meeting your beautiful ones

"u-uh hi-?" hr said, nervousness in his voice, "can i sit down with you for a bit? never seen you here." you said "yeah- yeah sure"

you sat down next to him "so what brings you here" you said making eye contact with him, or trying to, because his eyes would meet yours for a few seconds then he'd just look away

"i dont really know honestly" his voice deep, sadness showing on it

"rough day?" you asked

"yeah kinda"

"what happened?" you asked "never mind- sorry i shouldnt be asking"

"no no its okay i needed someone to talk to anyways, uh something happened at work- something really shitty, you dont happen to know that one abandoned pizzarea? freddy fazzbears or something"

"no way! you work there? i used to go there as a kid, you said smiling "what happened there?"

"well, the animatronics are haunted or some shit, some kids broke in while i was on my night shift and they all got absolutley obliterated by the animatronics- weird shit"

"i heard they were haunted, never thought it was real, yeah right whats your name?"

"mike" he replied "whats yours?"

"my stage names play kitty- weird i know, my actual names (Y/N)"

you had a little conversation, exchanged numbers, and mike left, he was definetley coming back here

it was 5 am now, mike drove home, as usual, doing his usual things

the day after, he went to work, he couldnt stop thinking about you, thats when you texted him

"hey mike its (y/n)!"

he picked yp his phone and read the message, then he replied

"hey y/n whats up"

"u coming today ;) ?"

"probably, not sure yet gotta finish work first"

"ill take that as a maybe, see you there"

you said, it was 3am again, "fuck this" mike abandoned his shift, locking up the outside of the pizzarea

he drove back to the club, walking in again the man standing at the door let him in, recognising him from yesterday

he walked in, you were on stage, when you saw him walk in, you eyes brightened, a smirk growing across your face

you continued your preformance, having collected a little bit over a thousand dollars from the guys there

you walked off, heading straight to mike, "you came!" you said with a smile

"why wouldnt i come back? couldnt resist a girl as beautiful as you-" he just said that- 'what the fucks wrong with me' he thought to himself "shit sorry"

u smirked "whyre you apologising? ur pretty cute mike" you said, chuckling afterwards

'she just said that? what?' he thought as you both made your way to a table to sit down

"what made you become a stripper- dont answer if you dont want to its fine" mike asked

"nah its alright, i just needed a but of extra money, i live alone and one job wasnt enough, plus i couldnt bare always staying alone at night- now im never alone im just followed around by desperate guys, theyre annoying but theyre the source of my income" you said

"my shifts almost over, if you want you can come to my place and we can continue talking there? id like to get to know you mike"

"yea- yeah sure why not" he said, shocked at your question, youve barely known him for a day and youre already inviting him to come over

you packed your things up, "mike u got a car with you? my friend drove me here today and im pretty sure she left aa bit ago- she told me"

"yeah sure, gimme ur house adress ill drive us there" he said

u got into mikes car, u told him the adress. he drove yoy both there , parking outside your house

you ooened the door, letting him in, as he walkes through the enterance, he noticed the house displayed your personality very well, clean and organised " alright gimme a second lemme set this stuff up in my room, you can come if you want to" mike nodded, following you into your room, he realized you were just a normal girl, trying to get some extra money to keep things running

" so mike, you got any siblings" mike froze for a second, remembering garret "you okay"

"yeah sorry, i have 2, or 1 techinaccly" "oh! im sorry for asking-"

"no its okay, it was a while ago, he was kidnapped infront of me i was 13, he was 8"

"im sorry mike.. what about your other sibling"

"yeah abby, shes 9, im doing the security gig to keep her, i beat up a guy at a mall last year and i lost my job, and i was going to lose guardianshio over her due to my aunt, so i have to work this shitty job now to prove i can keep a job"

you put your hand on mikes thigh, mike took a deep breath, looking down at your hand on his dark blue jeans, "are you okay mike"

"yeah im fine just somethings on my mind" he said, looking down onto his lap, where your hand rested, you pretended to not notice his growing erection, -shit shit shit' mike panicked he tried to cover it eirh his hands butyou grabbed him gently by the chin, turning his face to look at you, "you need some help with that?" you said, a smirk wide across your face "w-what do you mean?" mike tried to act confused, his face turning red "with this?" you placed your hand onto the growing tent in his pants

the moment your hand touched his erection, he threw his head back, letting out a soft moan "looks like you do" you said, climbing onto his lap, he rested his arms on your hips as you grinded your clothes cunt on his clothed erection

he let out soft moans, his head thrown back, his hands squeezing your hips you leaned down to his ear "whats wrong mikey? feels good?" you said, kissing his earlobe, making your way down his neck

you reached a hand under his shirt, exploring his torso, your hand wandering up and down it

"take it off" you said, mike obeyed, pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his bare chest, light abs across his stomache, you continued kissing his neck, reaching his colar bone where you sucked and nipped making him release liw whimpers, creating a hickey, "gosh mike keep making those sounds and i wont spare you" you said, smirking across his chest, taking in his scent

he smelled like cologne, mixed with the smell of sweat

mikes strong arms wrapped aroundd your waist as you make your way down his chest , and stomache, without hesitation, you slipped your shirt off

mikes facial expression changed, he looked at your tits, then he looked away again "you can look mike its okay"

you made your way, kissing down his stomache, once you finally reached his v line you said "lay down mike, let me make you feel good"

he listened, once he layed down, you unbuckled his belt, and pulled off his pants, leaving his boxers on

you started palming his dick through his boxers, you could tell he was trying his best to keep quiet.

"dont hold back your noises baby, i wanna hear you" you said as you slipped your finger under the waist band of his boxers, slowly pulling them down, his cock sprung out free, he was big, so big, 7 inches minimum

you wrapped your hand around the top of his dick, placing your thumb on the tip wiping away the precum, "mmph" you slowly leaned down, parting your lips, wrapping then around his erect cock, you took as much of his dick as you could in your mouth, you could feel your wetness through your panties

you bobbed your head up and down, making mike release the most lewd noises youve heard a man make. and you quite enjoyed it, "o-oh my go- mph-d im close! im close!"

you just kept going at the same speed, bobbing your head up and down, you felt mikes dick twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close

he looked down at you

you let his dick out of your mouth, stroking it with your hands till he came

streaks of white painted your face and his stomache

"holy shit" was all he said, he rested his arms next to him looking down at you

"one more time? in my pussy this time?"

"yes please" as soona s you whard those words, your pants were already off , panties slipping off with them, mike stared at you completely bare "goddamn" he whispered to himself, you positioned yourself above himx slowly lowering yourself onto his dick, his strong arms held you as his length slid down inside of you

you adjusted, and soon enoughc you were bouncing uo and down his dick, the only sound in the rokm was the slapping noisea from both your bodys and the moans you both let out , your hands supporting you on mikes chest

mikes hand reached down to your pussy. fingers making contact with your slick clit, rubbing circles onto it

"shit mike im close-" "me too" he said throwing his head back to let our another moan

you came first, the knot in your stomache coming undone.

mike remembered he wasnt wearing a condom, "im not we-wearing- shit. a condom." he said oanting between each word

"cum inside me" you said, leaning down and kissing his lips, swallowing all his moans and he came close to releasing his load

he moaned into your mouth, before releasing the warm whiye liquid into your used cunt, you bounced up and down his dick for a bit morw helping him ride out his high, before you collapsed onto him.

after a few minutes, you both cooled down, he pulled himself out, watchinf the cum drip from your cum

he looked at you and all he said was "we should do this again sometime"

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

part 2?

[soobszzn]

shut me up!

synopsis: despite his tough and confident rockstar persona, even beomgyu needed reassurance sometimes.

pairing: rockstar!beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff, semi-comfort, established relationship

content/warnings: kissing, (playful) teasing/bantering/yelling, beomgyu says ‘shut up’, beomgyu is in a (rock)band that isn’t txt

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this one’s for u, G🌼

- 

you’d be lying if you said being a rockstar’s girlfriend wasn’t absolutely exhilarating. you’d fall asleep in one city and then wake up in the next. you’d go from private jet, to tour bus, to private jet again. life was insane, but it didn’t matter how crazy and unpredictable life had become, because beomgyu was your constant.

you knew the band’s setlist by heart at this point, but the atmosphere and energy of each night’s crowd was always a new experience. what never changed, though, were the loving gazes you shot your boyfriend as you watched from stage side.

you’d hand him a sweat towel or a bottled water whenever he stepped backstage. with no time to chat, you’d occasionally shoot him a thumbs-up or a “fighting” gesture. in return, beomgyu would alternate between quick pecks and forehead kisses as a sign of thanks.

watching him up on that stage was the best part of each day. when he was performing, he was completely in his element: his expressions were always filled with joy and excitement, and with his electric guitar in hand, he’d move dynamically across the stage without missing a beat. he’d look out into the crowd affectionately, face beaming with gratitude towards the dedicated fans.

he’d never miss a chance to turn to you and shoot a loving glance back. you knew how grateful he was that you could follow him on his first major tour. you were there for the first performance jitters, mid-tour anxieties, and now for the band’s long-awaited performance at lollapalooza.

the band had a couple hours before showtime to film content and do interviews, which left you passing time in their trailer with some staff members. you’d already sped through a book on the plane ride here, opting to mindlessly scroll on your phone as you anticipated your boyfriend’s arrival. eventually, the group returned, giving them time to decompress and prepare for their set. 

you were sprawled on the couch at the end of their trailer. when beomgyu walked in, he motioned for you to lift your legs so he could take a seat. plopping himself beside you and letting your legs fall to his lap, he let out a sigh.

“how’d it all go?” you asked, turning to face him while still laying down.

“i don’t really know why we need to do so many interviews when they just ask the same stuff.” he complained as he fiddled with the hem of your pants. 

“it’s only cause so many people love your music.” you lightly nudged his arm as you sat up. you leaned your arm against the sofa backrest as you rested your head in your hand. this put the two of you face to face, giving you the opportunity to look at him closely.

you loved the way his ashy purple hair fell onto his face. as a matter of fact, you loved every damn part of his face. from the warmth of his eyes to the softness of his lips, you could just never get enough. those blush pink lips of his were so irresistible, you just wanted to lean in and kiss him right then and there.

he looked at you quizzically. “what?”

“you have something on your face.” you lied, reaching to brush nothing off his cheek in embarrassment. he smiled, but it quickly faded. he let out another sigh. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked with a slight pout. 

“it’s my song. i’m scared people aren’t gonna like it.” he confessed, now hunched over with his forearms resting in his lap. you had almost forgotten that the band was planning to premiere a new song tonight. and it wasn’t just any new song, it was a song beomgyu had produced.

“what if nobody reacts? what if they leave during our set? what if they start booing? i’d be a failure of a musician!” he cried, now sitting slumped on the couch. he was bouncing his leg and staring off into space, and you just knew his mind was racing. 

“stop stop stop!” you exclaimed through a laugh. his concerns were understandable, but you had to admit he looked a bit silly whining the way he did.

“why are you laughing?” he asked with a pout this time.

“because you sound a bit silly,” you replied cheekily, in hopes the teasing would cheer him up a bit. 

“i’m being serious.” he said quietly. 

“i know, and i get it. but you’re so good at what you do.” you reassured him.

“but this is lollapalooza. it’s a big deal. it’s a huge deal for us.” he replied in a bothered tone.

you had a feeling beomgyu’s worries were the main contributor to his now souring mood. but a part of you was beginning to get annoyed at the fact that he just wasn’t listening to you.

“you’re being stubborn.” you blurted out, regretting it immediately. 

“i am not! god. maybe i should just take it off the setlist now while i still have a chance.” he replied defensively, quickly standing up from the couch.

“can you stop it!” you cried, also standing up to face him. “you’re being so annoying. you don’t see what i see.” 

he looked at you perplexed.

“i know how much time and effort you put into your music, gyu. but most of all i see how talented you are,” you spoke earnestly, unintentionally starting an impromptu rant at your boyfriend.

“people love your music. why do you think you got invited here?” you continued, noticing his expression soften. “even though you’re the one on stage, i watch the crowd too. they eat it all up, they love you guys!”

“it annoys me because you don’t get it. you don’t get that your music is loved by so many!” you continued on your tirade. beomgyu inched his way closer to you. “you annoy me because you don't see how much you are loved!”

“and not just by me-mmph-” your words were suddenly interrupted by a pair of lips on yours.

cupping your cheeks in his hands, beomgyu guided your face closer to his. he deepened the kiss before pulling away and saying “and that’s all that matters.”

“i’m sorry for being stubborn,” he apologized, looking at you softly. you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. 

“everyone’s going to love your new song. i promise.” you mumbled into his chest after a few seconds of silence. then, you looked up at him.

he whispered “thank you” before kissing your nose. 

- 

an absolute success; that’s what you’d call their performance.

beomgyu was absolutely electric on that enormous stage. and maybe it was the bias in you, but his band had to have been the highlight of the weekend. the energy of the crowd was unmatched, and the familiar melodies of their discography were transformed into amplified versions of themselves. 

the reveal of your boyfriends’ newly produced track was met with an eruption of cheers. you watched fondly as beomgyu gleamed, face softening with both relief and delight. your heart was bursting with happiness, feeling so incredibly proud of him.

the second his band finished their set, you watched beomgyu hug his bandmates as they made their way off stage. they were all smiling so brightly, but your boyfriend’s smile was most infectious. on his way backstage, he thanked the stage crew and staff members as he caught his breath, coming down from his “performance high.”

then, you noticed his eyes start to wander and you had a feeling he was looking for you. you raised yourself up on your tippy toes and waved to get his attention. you met eyes, and the sweaty, out-of-breath boy made his way directly to you with absolute excitement. his ashy purple hair was almost matted to his forehead, skin glistening with perspiration. and you loved it.

immediately taking you into his embrace, he lifted you up and spun you around. you latched onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“i told you they’d love it.” you said cheekily as he set you down.

“can you shut up?” he teased with a smirk before pressing your lips together.

[odxrilove]

☆ SEVENTEEN AS PEOPLE AT SCHOOL

genre: highschool!au/uni!au

warnings: none

a/n: is this my official tumblr comeback ?? 😮

back to masterlist!

☆ SEUNGCHEOL

the leader of the “jocks”. he's the guy you see walking around school with his varsity jacket on– even if it’s in the middle of the summer. he’s the literal definition of the hallway crush, whispers and giggles being a regular thing he hears when he walks through the school hallways, hand swiping through his pretty hair. he often sits on the wooden tables outside instead of the benches whenever he and his friends have their little weekly hangout-meeting. always has a lollipop in his mouth and says it’s for the girls but really, he just likes sweets.

☆ JEONGHAN

the king of debates. if you sign up for debate class, don’t think you’re ever going to win if you’re up against jeonghan. he’s the reason why so many people left debate class mid year but the teacher is so impressed by him that she can’t force herself to kick him out. he’s also widely known for being the mastermind behind his high school’s senior prank. besides his maniac pranks and his broad knowledge of law, he’s actually pretty fun to be around and some girls who have had the pleasure to go on dates with him describe him as an angel– even after getting ghosted.

☆ JOSHUA

the class president. he’s a close friend of jeonghan and thus, winning the class pres’ election was easy peasy. he only presented himself as a joke but started taking it seriously 7 months in when the school planned to cancel the annual pajama day. he acts normal but he’s truly just as insane as his large group of friends. the grumpy math teacher is his next door neighbor and he once gave her leftover cookies and since then, he’s been her favorite student– and the only student she smiles at.

☆ JUN

the cat defender. falls easily asleep in class and is often woken up by his classmates after the bell rang. someone once drew a cat on a wall in the gym hall with a marker a few years back and when jun transferred to the school, his name mysteriously appeared under the cat drawing. in his second year, he got detention for a whole month after bringing a kitten to school and hiding it in his bag every day for two weeks straight– he was only caught because the cat meowed during a test and none of his classmates wanted to fake meow to help the poor guy out.

☆ HOSHI

the school’s dance machine. when the school speakers play music, you’ll always find him bobbing his head to the beat. he gets his notebook confiscated weekly because he prefers to write down possible dance movements and new choreography ideas than math equations and english vocabulary. he has a pretty big following on social media after a video of him freestyling at the school’s talent show blew up. he now uses his popularity to freely make dance covers at school, students avoiding him in the hallways when he’s swinging his legs and arms around.

☆ WONWOO

the school library’s only visitor. ok, maybe that’s a bit exaggerated but he’s definitely the only one going there willingly! the library stinks and there’s no wifi, plus some rumors are going around saying that the room at the back the of the library is the go-to place to fuck, and lastly, the librarian is a bitch– except towards wonwoo, of course. besides him being the librarian’s favorite, he once got asked to prom by a senior when he was a junior and every two months or so, someone brings it up and everyone goes crazy over it again. to be honest, if he wasn't so focused on his video games and books he would see how many people stare at him with heart eyes.

☆ WOOZI

the normal kid. what else can i say, he's just a regular guy. he goes to school wearing his silly baggy outfits and doesn't leave the house without his headphones on. he meets up with his friends and has lunch with them. he isn’t quiet but he isn’t talkative either, only partaking in his friends’ silly little conversations when he deems necessary. he gets normal grades and enjoys his silly music class the most. he’s on the school’s swimming team and won a few silly prizes during competitions. he’s been the subject of affection from a few girls since the start of school and he’s been on a date once. really, he’s just a silly little guy living his silly little life– what’s there to hate?

☆ SEOKMIN

the theatre kid. you either hate him or love him, there’s no in between– fortunately, no one really hates seokmin. he’s a loud student, his laugh often resonating through the entire cafeteria. he’s always been part of the cast for the school musicals, landing the lead role in his first year, something that had never ever happened before. the only kisses he’s had were during rehearsals or actual performances but he knows he has a large group of fans so nobody can really tease him for it. one of the school’s old students still has one-sided beef with him because seokmin ‘stole’ his role.

☆ MINGYU

the popular kid. he’s part of every club on campus, and has a hard time juggling football practice with the weekly sessions of the photography club. in his second year he decided he wanted to be an architect and since then he always complains about the school’s awful floor plan. people in the art club always go to him when they need a model because he has the Looks and actually knows how to pose. he’s actually very fun and the epitome of your rich friendly student who deserves to be crowned prom king. he’s known around school for mowing the lawns of his neighbors for free, shirtless.

☆ MINGHAO

the fashion police. there’s no better way to define minghao, as his judgmental faces have become an obsession for people on campus. he loves clothes and the fact he’s hoarding a drawer in his roommate’s closet further proves it. there's’ not one day that goes by where minghao doesn’t eat with his outfit, nails painted and sunglasses on his head– even in the winter. if you have to dress up for something, going to minghao’s dorm for help is the best solution. he’s rather honest, not hiding his disgust or love for people’s outfits. he was actually voted prom king (mingyu ending second) and was happy the crown fit the aesthetic of his suit. besides being an absolute bitch when it comes to clothing, his soft laugh does ease people’s nerves more often than not.

☆ SEUNGKWAN

the gossiper. or in better words, the head of the journalism club who’s in charge of the weekly school newspaper and news forum on the school’s official website. seungkwan is, with no doubt, respected by all. truthfully, he’s a good student, so teachers often let him write in his journal for new articles during class. there’s one unofficial rule though– you have secrets? do not share them with him. you can, however, ask him about other people’s business, and as long as you give him something in return, he’s glad to talk your ears off. you’re safe if you’re his friend though, because there isn’t someone as loyal as seungkwan walking down the school hallways.

☆ VERNON

the skater enthusiast. he always walks around wearing big weird hoodies, holding onto his skate and if it's one of those days, a beanie and some funky shoes complete the outfit. his skate is like an extension of his hand but does he know how to skate though? absolutely not. his friends now have multiple bandaid and first aid kits in their lockers because vernon never bothers to buy any but spends most of his lunch breaks trying to learn new tricks– and subsequently failing. he’s a sweet kid but a bit of an airhead, often bumping into people and staring at the people talking at him until he realizes the reason he couldn’t hear them was because he still had his headphones on.

☆ DINO

the school’s unofficial cheerleader’s cheerleader. it was truly a tragic day when the cheerleading squad’s manager got fired for fraud– not because of the money (duh) but because of the now lost cheerleaders. dino used to do gymnastics when he was young so in his eyes, he was their last hope. he was a god at planning cheerleading practices and events and in less than a year, the squad managed to win back their spot as number one during the cheerleading season. the school’s reputation was restored and suddenly all the teachers loved him. dying his hair blonde during a celebration party was the last straw for many– his locker would be full of confession letters the weeks following.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @raevyng @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun @viscade @amxlia-stars

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[lovezbrownies]

Mad Science (Yandere!Mad Scientist x GN!Reader.)

Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Julie's love story is beautiful until it isn't. Until she treated you badly until she brainwashed you to forget what happened.

Mad scientist Julie McCanister x GN!Reader.

Warnings: Manipulation, drugging, forced parenthood, Julie's bad with feelings, arguing, entrapment.

Your childhood best friend never was popular. Everyone hated her because she acted ‘strange’ but you knew better. She didn’t act strange to be edgy, she acted that way to shoo away everyone she hated. Which happens to be… everyone! Well, except for you, the person who relentlessly followed her around as a kid just so you could befriend her. And it somehow worked!

Julie McCanister never intended to make friends, hated her siblings for being annoying, and mildly tolerated her parents. Everyone knew she was a gifted genius from birth, she completed all of her milestones very early on and then stuck her nose in books from age 7. Thankfully her dull parents saw the signs and transferred her to a more prestigious school at age 10, where she finally met you. Some aristocrat’s favored child, while you weren't smart enough for her Julie decided to accept you nonetheless.

Over the years you had made sure your friendship stayed strong, even as you became popular you spoke with her more than anyone else, sat with her at lunch, and always defended Julie whenever someone spoke badly of her. Julie doesn’t know why you act the way you do but she can’t say she hates it. It took her a while to finally understand why she feels weird when you do something endearing for her.

When Julie decided to do something about you she was in her early twenties. She kept pulling and pushing you around in her lab, mumbling about hypotheses and telling you to say certain phrases, she had wires connected to your heart and brain as well as her own. While this behavior is new and weird you just put up with it. You want her to be as happy as she could be and if that meant being one of her scientific projects then so be it.

As of that moment you had graduated and looking for a job, while Julie is still in college, pursuing a double major master’s in BioChemistry and Astrophysics. She was the university’s star student, though Julie couldn’t care less for the attention, as long as people take her and her research seriously she couldn’t give a darn about the fame she garnered. Julie has received a lot of gifts from the university, like the massive lab you two are sat in within that day.

Julie told you to sit down on one of the dissection tables and just… continually stare at her. Weird but maybe some research about an individual’s natural reaction to being stared down. After a few seconds, the machine connected to Julie’s heart began beeping rapidly and her face was red. Concerned you were quick to ask.

“Are you okay?”

And then the machine began beeping louder and faster. It was so loud it hurt your ears physically, yelling out in surprise you covered your ears with your hands. You saw Julie hurry over to turn off all the machines, including the one connected to you. She looked to be so deep in thought, walking back in forth and yet again mumbling to herself.

You watched on for a second, not wanting to disturb her but you also wanted to go get food and go back home. You hesitate as you speak, slightly fearful of the consequences of cutting off her train of thought, “Uh… What was all of that about, Julie?” Julie abruptly stopped, head slowly turning your way, as if she finally noticed you were still there with her. She just stared at you, eyes blown wide and her hands holding onto each other behind her back.

Oh this felt horribly awkward, Julie kept staring her eyes shifting from one part of your body to the other, then finally meeting your own eyes. “You. You are an issue, my dear,” Problem? You? What? Head tilted and eyebrows furrowed you insanely confused by everything she’s said and done today. Julie knows you’re confused so she continues, ready to explain her hypothesis to you in its entirety. 

“I theorized that you might be the cause of certain issues I’ve been having since the age of 19. I can see your confusion, please stay with me as I explain this.” Julie then forced you to sit through her scientifically explaining that she’s madly in love with you and that all of these experiments were to test how she reacts to you. It took her 4 hours to finally finish her explanation, why didn’t you cut her off? She wouldn’t allow you, she would shush you then scold you for not paying enough attention, that since you're not paying attention she'll have to explain it all over again.

“So… you like me?” 

“Yes, I am romantically interested in you. Confessions out of the way we are now in a romantic relationship. Congratulations, let's go on a date now.” And she did in fact take you on a very romantic date. May be hard to swallow all of that information, but at least she doesn't break promises right?

And you accepted her confession, you can’t lie to yourself and say that her abrasive personality isn’t attractive, cause it most definitely is. And so is she, short bob-length blond hair that has layers and gives into her mad scientist look, pale skin from the lack of sun, always wore a necklace you gave her in the 10th grade, and a constantly hunched-over back. Julie had bright blue eyes, long lashes and thick eyebrows, big full lips, and a hooked nose to boot. She was the epitome of gorgeous even if she didn’t know it.

It was a wonderful relationship, you two stuck by each other, loved each other unconditionally, and when needed Julie loved to kidnap those who hurt you and use them as horrible illegal experiments. She always came back to you in a better mood, explaining the day’s experiments minus all the torture and illegal activity. You and Julie now both 32, life was good, you both had a house, though not very big as Julia had explained. “Save energy from cleaning and we do not need all that space.” Though you two still aren’t married, Julie saw no need since you and her will love each other no matter if you have a ring on your finger or not. 

You sat alone on the couch, book in hand you tried to stave off the boredom as you waited for your girlfriend to finally come back home. Julie had begged you for ages to just quit your job and wait for her at home, she’ll spoil you, she will give you full access to her bank, anything! As long as you stay home and wait for your scientist to come back! Plus it’s safer for you overall, no more people trying to steal you away when she’s not there.

Finally, finally, the door clicks open, and your girlfriend walks in with a… baby basket? What the fuck, what. You immediately jumped up from the couch, hoping to god she didn’t do what you think she did. “Julie… Honey, what are you holding..?” Julie smiled kindly at you, walking off to the kitchen with you chasing after her, she placed the now clearly baby-filled baby basket on the kitchen counter. Why… Why does it look like a mixture of you and Julie.

Julie leaned against the counter, next to the… the baby. “Do you recall my Asexual Reproduction of Sentient Beings through Magic research? Well it works, I used a combination of your DNA and my DNA to create it. And now we have to study the effects of this here baby for the rest of its- I mean hers, it’s a girl- study the rest of her life and parent her. Concluding my explanation, knowing we now have a child we must marry soon to not cause any complexes as she grows into a smart lady.” 

You stared at her in silence, horrified by the explanation you stood frozen. You couldn’t even comprehend it… One random Tuesday afternoon your girlfriend of 9 years just… suddenly brought a baby back home and expect you to go along with it that easily? Hell no! Was it so hard for her to take your feelings into consideration? What the fuck.

You stutter out a response, “W-What??? Julie, what the hell are you saying? Is this a joke? What? I-I’m so fucking confused, are you being serious?”  You couldn’t understand this at all, why would she do something this illogical when she prides herself in how smart she is?? Julie sighs, for some reason looking disappointed for you questioning her randomly bringing a baby back home for you to care for.

“I don’t understand why you’re so confused. I am being completely serious. You don’t have a job for a reason. To care for our baby.” Julie explained as if it’s the most painfully obvious fact in the world, as if this is a completely normal situation. That throwing a baby in your arms out of nowhere and think you’d just casually accept it with no questions. 

Your mouth hung open in disbelief, eyes wide, “N-No! I-I- What is wrong with you? No way. No fucking way, I am not taking care of a baby I never consented to have! You-You can’t just spring this out on me and expect me to be cheerful! I am not some robot who-who will bend to your every whim!!” You huffed and puffed in anger while Julie looked bored, as if you were just throwing a bratty tantrum and that you’d be over it soon. But no. You were sick of it all, she’s been so strange and off-putting lately and you’re not liking it. Julie’s been so uncaring of your feelings since she started this stupid asexual reproduction project of hers. And you wanted out.

You grabbed your head, stepping backward a few steps. You looked up at her up at her, she’s always been taller than you unfortunately so it was hard to take back charge of the conversation, “You haven’t been acting yourself recently, and I’ve wanted to talk to you about it but honestly it looks like you won’t ever take me seriously. I am your little pet after all. But this… this just opened my eyes and…” You took a deep breath turning around, back now facing Julie.

You let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t think we’re going to work out if you’re going to treat my feelings like this… You- Nevermind. It’s over. We are over. I-I’m sorry I-.” Another sigh left you, tears falling down your cheeks as you began to walk away. “You’re such an idiot dear. But no matter. I’ll fix you up.” You ignored her words, you don’t care if you’re stupid, you don’t care that what she said seemed very threatening, and you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Hm. Had she been too harsh? Was what she said too much? Should she have asked if you wanted a kid first? Well, it isn’t really your choice now is it. Julie needs to complete her research and that must include two loving parents of a child. Nevertheless, Julie wasn’t too worried, as she had baby-proofed the entire house. Including a new home security system, one simple word, and every door and window is bolted shut.

“Mooncalf. Don’t run too far now.” And there went the magic word, Julie can hear your grunts of struggle as you attempt to open the main door, but of course to no avail. Looking back at the somehow still silent baby Julie saw that the baby was dead asleep, smiling softly Julie opened some drawers and grabbed the chloroform she hid from you, and a small towel. Walking over to where you currently are– which is at the house’s front entrance– Julie shoved the chloroform-covered rag to your mouth, the stress from what had happened earlier had weakened you significantly. Something Julie is most definitely grateful for. 

The chloroform won’t last long. Julie has to act quick. First, she must get you to the lab and put you into a medically induced coma, find a nanny to care for the baby while Julie is busy with you, and then use her inventions to the best of her abilities and completely rewire your brain, make you forget the fight, make you want a baby as much as she wanted one, and live a happy, married life with you.

[starstruckmoony]

style.

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x fem!reader

summary - you and sirius start dating after accidentally running into each other at a concert but confirm nothing (till now), just to watch everyone lose their shit online.

trope/tags - band/celeb!au, instagram/social media!au, modern!au, fluff, terrible humour

word count - 1k

warnings - language

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

yourusername added to their story

starmanblack

❤ liked by yourusername, ev.rosier, marymacdonald and 856,327 others

starmanblack shades

26,013 comments

yourusername cigarette*

starmanblack ok duolingo

yourusername smash tbh

starmanblack not you copying my comment

yourusername i don't have the rizz it takes to come up with something original

starmanblack ain't no way you just said that

prongsyboy stop stealing people's glasses 😤

starmanblack never

vance_emm i'm like ragingly gay but you're kinda cute

starmanblack this is why you're my favourite lesbian

mmmckinnon TRAITOR

mmmckinnon it's not too late to delete this

starmanblack get out of my comment section

user828181 address the rumours sirius

user000423 run me over with your car i promise i'll pay for the damages 🙏

user627477 YOU HAVEN'T GIVEN US ANY ANSWERS

user999653 i'm perfect wife material, just saying

user424227 y'all realise that he's less likely to address the rumours if we keep being annoying 💀

user209996 nah fr he's gonna start hating us all

yourusername

❤ liked by starmanblack, prongsyboy, pandorasbox and 899,997 others

yourusername never would have though that my shows in dublin would be the craziest ones out of all but you guys actually delivered and i couldn't be happier! 💕 these past three nights were absolutely insane and i can't wait to be back (and i may or may not have already booked a few venues 😩) PLUS someone got proposed AND I DIDN'T EVEN SEE 😭 so if any of you beautiful people who were there have the video my dms are open for business lmao 🙏💞

tagged ev.rosier

27,664 comments

starmanblack apparently the proposal happened right next to me 💀

yourusername BABE HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE?

starmanblack CAUSE YOU WERE BETTER THAN THE PROPOSAL

starmanblack my guitar ate as always

yourusername she's even signed 😱

starmanblack slay 😝

yourusername GO TO SLEEP OMG

starmanblack say it to my face 😤

xeno_lovegood i had so much fun

yourusername i'm smiling so hard rn

pete__ sirius is a certified simp because how do you miss a proposal that's happening next to you?

mmmckinnon it's because he's both sirius and a simp petey

prongsyboy sirius doing sirius things 🤣

user552520 dunno bout y'all but i got my confirmation tonight

user073789 YOU WERE SO GOOD OH MY GOD

user843632 i'm so lonely the proposal made me cry

user439546 love me some sappy shit fr

user674848 this was un fucking real no joke

user993455 SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE RUMOURS I'M BEGGING

user200017 learn to read between the lines lol

starmanblack added to their story

yourusername

❤ liked by starmanblack, bellatrixieb, cissy_blck and 901,077 others

yourusername date night ⭐

29,208 comments

starmanblack pretty dress

yourusername why thank you

starmanblack my stomach feels funny from all that wine

yourusername my precious toilet 😭

marymacdonald gorgeous!!!

yourusername i was impersonating you

vance_emm AND SHE SAYS SHE HAS NO RIZZ

ev.rosier am i about to get fired?

yourusername of course not, you're my second favourite person

starmanblack i'm first

pandorasbox my friends are all so beautiful 🥺

yourusername us hot people stick together 😌

pandorasbox ONG

user329295 sirius is so lucky

user400128 i've never been more jealous of a man

user006272 IS THIS OUR CONFIRMATION?

user883265 mother is mothering

user306084 THE STAR

user243123 if this is another sike istg

user727211 I THINK IT'S NOT A DRILL ANYMORE

user492932 Y/N WE JUST NEED A SIMPLE YES OR NO DON'T DO THIS TO US

starmanblack

❤ liked by mmmckinnon, ev.rosier, casmeadowes and 916,222 others

starmanblack platonic snog

36,775 comments

yourusername people just don't appreciate friendships nowadays 🙄

starmanblack it's just so so sad 😣

yourusername i have better photos of us 👹

starmanblack strongly disagree

yourusername you don't wanna make this a competition

marymacdonald my mum said friends don't do that

starmanblack mama macdonald may be onto something

r.a.black affection 🤮

starmanblack i thought you unfollowed me?

r.a.black i did but i like lurking around here

starmanblack fan behaviour

rjlupin best friend things

prongsyboy HEY I'M HIS BEST FRIEND

rjlupin you were supposed to play along

user020226 MOTHER OF GOD IS THIS REAL

user366232 HDJQJDJQDJQ MY DELUSIONS WEREN'T DELUSIONS

user500447 you still need therapy

user432777 AIN'T NO WAY

user718710 I DIED DEAD.

user907015 GADHQHDQUDJQXJQDJQ I CAN'T FUCKING CATCH MY BREATH

user138282 are you still alive?

user907015 NO

user882446 this and platonic don't go together sirius 🙄

yourusername

❤ liked by walburgablack, cissy_blck, bellatrixieb and 933,052

yourusername pda is afraid of him

39,457 comments

starmanblack FINE you have better photos

yourusername see? that wasn't so hard to admit!

starmanblack i actually won in life

yourusername damn right you did

starmanblack celeb_gossip losing their minds rn

yourusername the kettle is B R E W I N G 🥵🫖🤩👀😳☕😝😻

bartyyy I KNEW BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE HAHA

yourusername well you're the favourite child...

lily_evans kinda illegal how you're both so hot

casmeadowes i've been saying!!!

cissy_blck REG'S SISTER IN LAW 😭

bellatrixieb he's one lucky man

r.a.black lucky isn't exactly the right word but okay

user737729 OH MY FUCKING SHIT

user632444 MY ACTUAL PARENTS

user536272 NOT ME NOT BEING DELULU

user292920 swifities can't relate

user155161 WALBURGA LIKED THIS HELP ME

user993929 narcissa is so real LMFAOOO

user032386 THAT SHOULD BE ME (idk which person i want to be more)

starmanblack added to their story

yourusername

❤ liked by cissy_blck, luciussy, bartyyy and 942,773 others

yourusername happy birthday to this idiot who i unfortunately love very much 💕

tagged starmanblack

30,033 comments

starmanblack tragic how i love you back

yourusername absolutely

starmanblack rizz god since 12

yourusername are you still 12?

lily_evans got me tearing up over here

yourusername awwww 🥺

rjlupin you should have used that one photo where he was on the potty

starmanblack WHY ARE YOU LETTING THEM KNOW THAT EXISTS?

rjlupin denying it would have worked yk

casmeadowes i woke up to this 💀

starmanblack good

mmmckinnon mondays.

user939355 THE CAT

user019661 i'm making this my profile picture

user763772 tell him i said happy birthday

user195666 imagine having someone say they love you so publicly ha ha ha ha ha

user244488 fuck being single fr

user328911 NO BUT THIS IS KINDA CUTE 😭

yourusername added to their story

[yeoosaangg]

Love Me Like You Do || Kinktober - Day 16

pairing ▸ mark lee × f!reader

now playing ▸ love me like you do - ellie goulding

⤷ ❝i'll let you set the pace 'cause i'm not thinking straight.❞

genre ▸ college au, secret relationship, smut

warnings ▸ anal, praise, marking, fingering, choking, rough sex

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

Mark Lee.

Everyone knows him as the quiet guy who always has his head stuck in a book, which is why not many people approach him.

They believe he's on the shy side, always awkwardly bowing when someone happens to bump into him.

But they're not blind. His glasses and studious tendencies doesn't take away the fact that he's insanely hot. He has plenty of admirers, but none of them matter.

You do.

No one on campus knows that you two are dating.

No one knows the Mark that comes home to you every night, the different person he becomes.

He's outgoing and confident, wears casual clothes, and rides a motorcycle.

He treats you like the most delicate flower in the world. He worships your existence, treating you like a literal goddess.

And in bed?

He's there for your pleasure, not his. He radiates such dominant charisma, but let's you take the reigns if it makes you happy.

He does whatever you ask him to, no questions asked.

And you love him just as much as he loves you.

And right now, he stands in front of you in nothing but a towel that sits just below his waist line. He smirks down at you, knowing the effect he has on you.

You both maintain the intense eye contact, neither of you wanting to back down.

He takes that as a sign to slowly walk over to you. His hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you towards him so he can hover above you.

He leans down to kiss you passionately, knee slotting between your legs just enough to keep you down. He undresses you, discarding his towel along with your clothes.

Mark: I love seeing you under me, baby. It drives me fucking crazy.

His lips brush against your ear, breath tickling you as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

Y/n: Can we try something new?

Mark: Of course we can. What'd you have in mind, love?

Your body melts as he trails kisses down your body until he gets to your sweet spot. Your back arches when he sucks lightly against your most sensitive area.

Y/n: Can we try anal?

Mark licks the hickey and nuzzles his nose against it.

Mark: I'll get you prepped then. Turn around for me, yeah?

He stands up, going to the dresser you specifically bought for your toys and he takes out some lubricant.

You settle down on all fours, ass up so he can easily work you open. He squeezes the cold liquid all over his fingers and your ass, carefully rimming your hole.

You moan once his finger slides in, pumping slowly so you can get used to the foreign feeling. His other hand trails along your body to distract you.

Mark: You're doing great, love.

You bite down on the bed sheet as he adds another finger. He pauses his movements until you give him the go-ahead to move.

The sheet is long forgotten as your moans echo off the walls, his hand making you feel like you're on fire. The new feeling of being stretched in a different way feels like it's your first time.

Y/n: Please. Please give me more.

He kisses your ass cheek, adding a third finger. He watches you fall against the mattress, eyes glazing over in pure bliss.

His knuckles disappear inside your tight hole. He gets an idea and turns his hand so that his pinky gives your cunt its much needed attention.

The knot in your stomach gets tighter until you can't hold it anymore and cum all over the place.

He pumps his cock a few times before lining up against your entrance.

Mark: I'll go slow, baby. Use the safe word if it's too much.

You nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He pushes inside, moaning at the tighter feeling. You have never felt such an intense stretch before, but fuck.

Y/n: So big. Won't fit.

Mark: Don't worry, baby. We'll make it fit, okay?

You purr, arching your back more for your boyfriend's fingers to dig into the dips of your back.

He bottoms out, holding you in place to avoid hurting you. He pushes you further into the mattress, running his hands along your body for comfort.

Y/n: M-Move.

Mark: You sure?

Y/n: Yes. Fuck, p-please move.

He slowly draws his hips back, slamming back into you. You scream, clutching at the sheets with all the force you could muster.

He pounds into your tight ass, one hand cupping around your tit. He pulls at your nipple harshly, loving the sound of your broken moans.

He does not stop until you cum again.

Mark: So good for me, princess.

His thrusts slow down, but only so he can flip you around and fuck you in missionary position. He kisses you deeply as he slams his hips against your ass.

His balls bounce off your skin, adding to his pleasure.

He sits up, using one hand to choke you while the other gets shoved into your aching cunt.

His fingers work their magic, stimulating you a lot more than you had expected this night to go.

Your legs start to shake when another hard orgasm washes over you. Mark pulls his fingers and cock out, only for him to slam his cock into your gummy walls.

Y/n: Oh, fuck!

Mark: Wanna cum in you.

You spread your legs wider, giving him more room to dick you down. He eventually cums deep inside you, breathing heavily from how good he feels.

Mark: God, I love you.

Y/n: I love you, Markie.

═══

a/n: got this idea off the clock app... i need serious help. thanks for reading ‹𝟹

[leezlelatch]

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week. 

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document. 

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them. 

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration. 

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold. 

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little. 

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye. 

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored. 

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated. 

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story. 

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner. 

Fuck it. 

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat. 

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs. 

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns. 

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?” 

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.” 

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.” 

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night. 

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon. 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off. 

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection. 

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation. 

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare. 

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant. 

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure. 

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality. 

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now. 

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.” 

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face. 

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.” 

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom. 

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.” 

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair. 

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one. 

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face. 

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out. 

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.” 

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly. 

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring. 

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then. 

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in. 

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks. 

“Are you preaching?” 

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs. 

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk. 

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.” 

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea. 

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question. 

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?” 

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles. 

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add. 

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin. 

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation. 

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye. 

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful. 

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.” 

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?” 

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly. 

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile. 

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies. 

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.” 

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.” 

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.” 

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?” 

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be. 

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door. 

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true. 

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner. 

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at. 

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.” 

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth. 

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly. 

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?” 

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you. 

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.” 

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table. 

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair. 

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?” 

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?” 

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little. 

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.” 

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?” 

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff. 

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?” 

“Victor,” you answer immediately. 

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.” 

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature. 

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke. 

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?” 

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks. 

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features. 

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes. 

“Do you like me?” He asks softly. 

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra. 

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?” 

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.” 

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?” 

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles. 

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his. 

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go. 

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.” 

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up. 

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry. 

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?” 

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.” 

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?” 

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful. 

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly. 

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.” 

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.” 

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own. 

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush. 

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised. 

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.” 

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest. 

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks. 

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone. 

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.” 

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world. 

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.” 

“I already told you that-” 

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.” 

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze. 

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone. 

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises. 

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily. 

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully. 

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy. 

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter. 

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?” 

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons. 

“No, I don’t think I will.”