#didn’t realise people STILL filtered it

[earthtooz]

in which: alhaitham resorts to lying on top of you in order to get you speaking to him again.

quick alhaitham thought i needed to get off my mind, making out at the end lol, potentially ooc

there were a lot of things you didn’t expect when entering a relationship with alhaitham. you didn't expect him to have kaveh as a roommate, you didn’t expect him to overthrow the government, and you didn’t expect him to resort to pettiness in order to end the silent treatment you were giving him.

it’s suffocating beneath him, squished into his soft mattress with his body weight, muscles wrapped around you like a python whilst one arm is extended outwards, balancing a book. you wonder if he’s actually reading it, but you can tell he’s enjoying himself regardless, evident through the way he often turns his head to place a kiss on your exposed collarbone, burying his face into your warmth from here to there. 

for the umpteenth time, you grunt, losing your mind just a little. his body warmth was getting too much, and you’ve been lying here for who knows how long, just staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

you want to protest, berate him for flattening you before shoving him off, but that would mean surrendering, and this time, you want alhaitham to be the one to give up first. 

as if hearing your thoughts, your grey-haired lover then glances up at you, sleepy gaze filtered through messy strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. you almost cave at the domesticity of it all, only just stopping yourself from brushing his bangs away. 

“still upset?” he murmurs, putting his book face-down to wrap his arms tighter around your torso. “fine. have it your way, i’m going to nap.”

“no-” he perks up at the sound of your voice, raising an eyebrow as a mask of smugness gleams over his face. you shut your mouth immediately, cursing at yourself to slip up so easily, but you really needed to stretch out your legs and the other discomforts of lying like an unmoving plank beneath alhaitham. 

“what was that?” challenges your boyfriend. you don’t answer him, merely staring him down as he sits back, grabbing your wrists. “oh come on, i know you want to say something, out with it.” 

shaking your head, he scoffs at your stubbornness as if his isn’t just as frustrating, and gently caresses your hand. his touch is tantalising, urging you to give in, and paired with that lidded look of his, it’s practically impossible not to.

not many people get to see alhaitham like this, you realise. most know him as an indifferent, closed off, and unapproachable scribe, turned grand sage, turned scribe, yet you get the honour of seeing him as this. “talk to me already,” he demands gently, not letting his grip waver even as you keep trying to pull your hands away, only slipping away so far before he’s holding you again.

there aren’t many battles you can win against him, you know that, and one of them was a battle of strength. as he holds your wrists tight to your sides, his face so close to yours, you feel his earlier playfulness melting into something sincere. 

“are you still mad?” asks alhaitham, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as a pout appears along his lips. the response you give him is a petulant turn of your head. he sighs through his nose. “i’m sorry, okay? i was out of line, i should have listened to you, alright?”

his tone is uncharacteristically kind and warm, warm enough for you to give in to his pleas.

“you mean it?” you tease, grinning widely at him. in the blink of an eye, the tension from alhaitham’s shoulder seeps away like sand, and he sighs with relief before agreeing, a solid ‘yes’ slipping through his mouth. “then i accept your apology.”

“you minx, enjoying the sight of me like this, aren't you-” he murmurs, and you swallow his brewing snide remarks with a kiss, closing the gap by firmly pressing your lips against his. alhaitham is not surprised by your sudden affection. rather, he welcomes it, melts into you wholly as a hand holds the back of your neck to keep you against him. you're warm and precious and everything he could ever desire, so he can't help but let his hands wander, searching for more.

as your mouths slot together, there’s a delicate exchange of apologies that words cannot express; ironic, since alhaitham knows of several ways to apologise in a multitude of languages. nevertheless, he thinks that this is the best method.

with the way you move in sync with him, he can tell that this is your favourite too. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 6

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He turns to the person the trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none

part 5

AN: Before we start I do want to say that I’m sorry for how this story has turned out, I’m lowkey hating it but i will come back with a better story soon. If anyone has any longer stories they would like to see, then please leave it in my submissions box, in my comments and/or feel free to message me privately. I also apologies about the wait for this. Sorry guys and thank you.

--

Lando had woken first, the light of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains. He stretched over you, smiling to see you still asleep against him.

He kissed your head before sneaking out of bed, this was the first morning in a while that Lando woke up feeling refreshed and confident for the race, he was also early, early enough to make you breakfast.

He reached for the t-shirt that lay on the floor beside him before trotting his way to the kitchen. He began by making you both coffee before moving onto toast.

"Good morning" you said with a smiles, your voice still rough from just waking up "Well hello there princess, what woke you up?" he asks holding your hand that wrapped around his waist from behind

"The beautiful smell of coffee, and the cold bed. You're up early is everything okay?" you question, resting your head on his back "I'm feeling so good, about today, I got the best sleep last night, we've got so much time before we need to leave too" he smiles buttering your toast and sticking it in your mouth

You smile, taking it out your mouth “I’m glad” you say chewing covering a hand over your mouth “Are Max and Pietra awake?”

“I don’t think so” he smiles leaning down to kiss you

Neither you or Lando had mentioned all the kisses throughout the weekend, the ones in public and in private, but you were both enjoying whatever was going on.

“So today, I was thinking of wearing my new white summer dress, what do you think?” you tell him, sitting on the chair next to him “The one that you ordered last week?”

“Yeah”

“That’s nice, I like that” he nods pulling your legs up on top of his

--

Lando had decided to match your all white outfit today, he held your hand tightly entering the paddock, pulling you closer to him as people rushed by.

You could sense the rise of Lando's nerves, in attempt you comfort him you put your free hand on his bicep

"How are you feeling today Mr Pole Sitter?" Ted Kravitz asks walking up to you both with the camera crew in front of you "Feeling good, hopefully can perform well enough to get the win, got a lot of support here so it would be good to put a smile on peoples faces”

“And you’ve also got that support of your lovely best friend too” he nods and you and you smile at him “Yeah I love having my girlfriend at races with me, she’s my biggest supporter so”

“Oh i’m sorry i didn’t realise that you were finally in a relationship” he apologises “congratulations to you both”

You both thank him before heading into the McLaren garage, stopping to say hello to everyone

"I'm glad to see you here, I've missed you the full weekend" Will smiles opening his arms "Glad to see you too" you hug him "Stealing my girlfriend now are we?" Lando jokes wrapping an arm around your waist

"Wouldn't dream of breaking you two up, feeling good about today?" he asks Lando "Good aren't you" you answer before Lando says something negative "Yep all good" he rolls his eyes "Hey! I'm going to the bathroom, make sure I've not got moody Lando" you kiss him before leaving him with Will

"You're kissing now" Will smirks "I mean, yeah" Lando shrugs "There's no cameras about" the engineer pushes "We've actually had a few kisses back home" Lando says hiding a smile

"Well it's been a long time coming, just make sure your heads in the game today. I'm happy for you though" he pats Lando's shoulder "Trust me, that girl is the reason I'm feeling even the littlest bit confident today"

"Really?" Will asks turning to face him "Well yeah, she's the only one that really understands me. I just love her so much" he blushes

"So you're in love with her"

"What? No I'm not?" Lando scoffs "The way you talk about her is the way I first talked about my wife, now we have a child together. You need to realise how you feel about her without people telling you"

"And if I admitted I was in love with her?"

"Then you should tell her, the way she looks at you is the way Hayley looked at me. Get yourself ready mate"

Lando sighed, looking at Will one last time before heading to his drivers room where you were sat "Hi pretty boy, I've left your shirt out, your hats there too" you point to his chair

"Thank you, are you going to chill in here until the race?" he asks taking his shirt off "Yeah, I'm going to wait on Max and Pietra. I'll be watching"

"Good, I'll see you later. Let me know if you're going anywhere" he says leaning down "I will" you lean up to kiss him "Bye" he shouts leaving the room

-

As it got closer to lights out Lando walked around the garage talking to everyone he needed to, he sat with Will for a while before he needed to get into the car.

As he approached you, you knew what was coming. The dreaded moment you had before every single race.

“Be safe, I love you” you tell him, wrapping your arm around his waist “I promise I will. I love you too” he says holding out his pinky finger. You link yours with his and both of you kiss your hands.

He hugs you tightly, kissing your head before moving down to your lips.

“Come home”

“I always do” he winks before getting in the car

It never got any easier, it hadn’t since he first started in 2019. Watching him leave the garage not knowing what where he was going to finish after the race and your worst fear it he didn’t finish at all.

Max stood beside you, putting on a headset, in a selfish way you were glad he wasn’t racing anymore, it means you didn’t have to worry about two people, but you knew Max wished he continued, he could have made it to Formula 1.

“He’ll win” Max wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly “I know” you smile

“I just wish he knew that” he nods to Lando’s car on the screen “He’ll see what we see one day”

The race was tense, within the first lap six cars had locked up and people were losing positions. The upside to it was Lando keeping his place and Oscar moving up to P2, getting out of the mess without harm.

You could feel your heart beating against your chest, fighting to leave your body as the last lap of the race came closer.

Two laps to go.

He was seconds ahead of the cars behind him.

One lap to go.

The crew ran across to the pit wall, as Lando approached the final corner, as he crossed the line you could hear him screaming down the head set.

Your eyes filled up with tears, you turned to Max as he engulfed you in a hug jumping up and down.

As he came down the pit lane, you threw your head set off, pushing through the crowd of papaya to the front where Zak was.

He stood on the top of the car, throwing his hands in the air while everyone around you cheered. He took his helmet off running and jumping into the crowd of McLaren and eventually he was pulled to the other side of the barrier

“Where is she?” you saw Lando looking around, when he spotted you, he lifted you up hugging you tightly “I’m so proud of you Lando, you don’t know it”

“You’re the best, I love you, I love you so much”

“It was you that did it baby, get on the podium and get drenched in champagne”

He leans down kissing you before jumping over the barrier again. You let the nickname slip, you didn’t mean to say it but the way it made you feel was so good, it felt as if it was normal.

The media covered up how Lando felt about it, the way he was yapping in his interviews when the only thing he could think about was you and the nickname. “Baby” he wishes he could get used to that.

part 7

TAGS

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[kingkatsuki]

Everyone leaving a business course in Japan knows that Dynamight PR is THE job to get. Everyone strives and works for it without really knowing what they’re getting into. They just know it’s the highest paying job you can get and you’ll either never need to go job hunting again, or you’ll have an amazing job on your CV. That is until they work there and realise that Dynamight is a dog that cannot be contained by his PR team and the reason you get hired on the spot if you go looking for other jobs is ‘well if you can work for Dynamight, you can work for anyone’

I could write about this trope for hours I’m so obsessed with it— he’d make your job so insufferable whilst simultaneously being the best part of it😫

On paper, a job at Dynamight’s agency is the dream for anyone in business— never mind a student fresh out of school with no experience. Strict NDA’s meant there was little information about what a job working for Dynamight’s PR team was really like, but the fact that his current manager was signed off sick for stress should’ve been an indication of what the job would be like for you.

You didn’t meet Dynamight during your interview, even though it was held at his agency. A fact you found a little peculiar, thinking a Hero climbing the rankings would be invested in who he’d have as his PR assistant— especially as it could help further his career, but it didn’t surprise you. Dynamight was one of the most in-demand heroes, with the media, fans and public desperate for his attention. Of course he wouldn’t have the time to interview everyone that applied for the job.

But you didn’t even meet Dynamight when you got the job. The three weeks since had been surprisingly calm, surprisingly easy. You’d spend your days filtering through emails, most of them from fans who’d beg for a chance of meeting the Pro, or autographs or merch. Not unlike a lot of the emails from the media, trying to arrange interviews or publicity stunts while trying to offer their fees.

The only complaint you’d received was from a young photographer that hadn’t known any better when he shoved his camera directly under Bakugou’s nose during a rescue mission, the hulking Pro carrying an injured civilian over one of his broad shoulders as he grabbed the camera with his palm. The heat of his quirk no match for the intricate technology as it melted beneath his touch, effectively destroying the memory card as he let it drop to the ground. The only evidence a blurry, charred JPEG of Bakugou’s angry face as he reached out for the device. The complaint quickly settled with a new photography set as compensation, as well as a well scripted apology from the Pro. An apology, which you soon realised, was carefully scripted by yourself and signed by the Pro-Hero himself.

“What do you want?” You hadn’t expected these to be the first words your new boss would say to you, and yet here you were.

“Oh, I’m your new PR assistant,” You understood now why people felt intimidated in his presence. Crimson eyes shot you a glare from across the room before he quickly went back to the laptop on his desk, even though thick-rimmed glasses he still felt as intimidating as ever. Even if he did look much cuter like this— “I just need you to sign this apology to the photographer from last week—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ signing that shit,” He scoffed, “Tell that prick he’s lucky it wasn’t his head.”

Now you understood why there were always vacancies available for this job.

You were certain Dynamight wasn’t trying to make your job difficult on purpose, he always seemed to answer your calls when he was inside his office— even if it was usually with an abrupt “what?”. And he even agreed to tone down his aggressive views online, “Fine, sweetheart. I’ll cut the fuckin’ politics. But you know those fuckers need tellin’ how dumb they are”. The peace could only ever be short lived, because no matter how hard you tried, things just seemed to get worse.

If the hero commission weren’t a bunch of pussies Deku wouldn’t be number one for another year in a row.

“Oh my god,” Your eyes squinted as you read the tweet at six in the morning, before you’d even had a chance to wake up and get ready for the day.

The likes and retweets continued to grow as you began to get messages from your team at the agency, and the media as you contemplated just never coming back.

Usually someone in the IT department would lock his account just in time, or intercept the tweets but it wasn’t always quick enough. You really were in the trenches as you decided to take matters into your own hands. Scrolling to your contacts as you called your boss immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and calm the migraine you knew was coming on.

“You’re callin’ a bit late for a bootycall, sweetheart—” He grunted, his breathing laboured on the other side of the phone so you assumed he was at the gym. Or so you hoped, not wanting to imagine him on top of another woman whilst talking to you, “Don’t you start work in an hour?”

“Cut the crap, Bakugou,” You snapped, irritated by the offensive tweet mere hours after he’d promised to tone it down, “You said no more ridiculous tweets.”

“You said no more ridiculous tweets,” He mimicked your tone, “I’m just posting pure fuckin’ facts and you know it. If the commission weren’t so far up Deku’s ass I’d be number one by now.”

“No,” You growled, “If you weren’t such an insufferable asshole all the fucking time and actually tried to show up to some of the events that were organised for you, you might actually have a chance of changing public perception of you. Nevermind the simple fact that Deku had better numbers than you this month. Deku’s number one because he deserves to be, but you deserve it too. So maybe if you fixed up we could get you there, but instead you choose to be a jerk.”

You couldn’t believe the words had left your mouth. Every single ounce of annoyance and irritation you’d felt working under Dynamight for the past month had spewed out in under thirty seconds. The emotions you’d kept bottled up every time you received a new complaint or read a new interview or post from Bakugou, now released from your system.

And even though you were certain that you’d lost your job now, at least you could say that you’d given your notice in style.

“Well shit,” You heard the running stop on the other side of the phone as you assumed he paused his treadmill, panting into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You sighed, “Maybe it’s better if you get someone else for the job—”

“I like it when you’re pissed, sweetheart.” He cut you off completely, catching you off guard, “I’ll see you in an hour. You can tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

[inuyashaluver]

Queen! Ur writing is always so perfect 💋 would u consider writing something for Mearps?

tiktok exposure - mary earps

mary earps x reader

description: in which your secret girlfriend exposes your relationship on her tiktok

warnings: reader gets slapped with a tortilla - funniest warning i’ve ever written in my life, little swearing, unhinged but so am i

a/n: omg, lovely, you’re so sweet! thank you for the kindness and the request, hope you enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, mary were in a relatively ‘secret’ relationship. your friends, family and teammates all knew about it, the only people really left in the dark was the media.

there wasn’t any specific reason for it, you and mary just thought it would be better this way in the beginning stages of your relationship. but the thing is, you’ve been dating for over 5 years and people still think that you and mary are just affectionate best friends. slowly but surely, you both didn’t want to hide it any longer.

—

you met mary in the england youth teams. originally, she didn’t like you at first. you were a forward and she was a keeper, and even though you were on the same team, her body would burn in anger when the ball you sent to the back of the net would graze her fingertips everytime.

you were always labelled a sweetheart, one of the nicest girls on the team by a long shot and no one could deny it, not even mary.

she always claimed she didn’t like you but as the time progressed, she began to admire you. mistaking her ‘dislike’ for intrigue.

to ‘settle your differences’, you and mary were forced to room together at every camp, meaning the two of you would talk and goof off together. it was clear to your teammates that you both liked each other, so with a gentle push, mary made the first move and asked you out. and ever since then, you’d been inseparable.

—

you and mary ended up playing together at all the same clubs, labelling the two of you as the unstoppable best friends, something that the two of you would laugh about.

—

it was the women’s world cup, you and mary getting called up for the senior team at the same time in your shared flat. it was nerve wracking, yet exciting, as everyone had good feelings about the tournament.

during this time, your girlfriend had grown quite a love for frequently posting on tiktok, making random videos with your teammates everyday. occasionally she would vlog and get you to say “hi” the comments always saying how cute your friendship was.

“hello, everyone! millie and mary here,” mary holds the phone while she sits on the plane next to millie, you’re sitting behind her. “we’re gonna play around with this guess the country filter while everyone is sleeping” mary says in a lame attempt of a whisper while her and millie cackle.

millie glances around the plane until her eyes fall on your sleeping figure. “literally everyone is sleeping right now, look at your girl over here” millie gestures to you and mary’s face lights up, she lifts up her phone to show you sleeping next to maya, both of you bundled up in hoodies. though what mary didn’t realise, was that you were wearing her hoodie.

“sleepy girls” mary coos before laughing and propping the phone up so they could continue the video.

“what’s that?” millie asks

“jaw, teeth? mail teeth?” mary says in full confusion

you woke up to the loud laughs of mary and millie with a groan, you peer over the front of your seat to see the two of them goofing off on mary’s phone. you’re visible in the camera, your tired eyes evident on your face.

you slap them both on the back of the head and they both let out a gasp in surprise, snapping their heads to see a very grumpy you staring down at them.

“too loud” you grit out and mary smiles up at you affectionately, moving her hand to pinch your cheek gently. “sorry, love” she laughs, millie blows you a kiss in apology and you couldn’t help but smile. before you sit down, you wave at the camera, “it’s india” you say simply before sitting back down, hearing the excited yells of astonishment at your correct answer.

the video blows up, specifically the comments saying how funny you all were. there were some comments saying how you were wearing mary’s clothes and some saying the way mary looked at you was anything but friendly but fans were quickly shutting them down.

everyone truly believed the two of you were best friends but the video began to decay those opinions. the speculations were growing and you and mary honestly found it quite funny.

—

you and mary room together, forcing you to film as many videos as she could with you. her tiktok page filling up completely with random videos during the day or challenges she would do with different teammates.

the social media admin was also having a field day with all the content being released from mary, they’d also been releasing their own. one that sparked a lot of interest in particular, was one of you and mary arriving to a game.

she’d gotten off the bus first and waved to the camera, grabbing your hand and helping you walk down the stairs. when you reach the ground, you look up at her and smile affectionately before she bends down slightly, showing you her back.

you instantly take the invitation and she piggybacks you while you wave to the camera.

“i only arrive in style” you joke at the camera, throwing it a wink as you rest your cheek against mary’s. “what about me?” mary mocks, you just smile and nuzzle into her.

in the distance, ella is speaking to alessia, “i wish my partner was here so i didn’t have to walk” she jokes, it’s barely audible but fans picked it up right away. at this point, you and mary didn’t really care, you were just being you and having fun and that’s all that mattered for the both of you.

—

though, a video that fully confirmed your relationship was made by mary. she’d begged you to join her on a challenge and claimed it would be extremely funny.

“baby, please, it’ll be so good!” she pleads, hugging you from behind while you brush your teeth. “can’t you ask me later?” you muffle out, mouth full of toothpaste and she laughs affectionately. kissing your cheek repeatedly as she squeezed your waist gently. she stares at you in the mirror and you give in easily, “fine” you groan, finishing up brushing your teeth as she squeals excitedly.

you had training today, both of you agreed to film the video at the training facility as it involved water.

she’d clearly already organised this, when she walked you in the room, the entire team was there and had brought all the materials.

you laugh in disbelief as your water bottle and tortillas are thrusted in your hands. “what are we doing again?” you smile at mary while she gives the phone to another tiktok expert, esme to film. “so we fill our mouths with water and then do scissors, paper, rock and then whoever wins slaps the other person with the tortilla” mary explains, all the girls are in fits of giggles excited to see the video happen right in front of them.

you shake your head amusingly but agree, laughing when mary gives you your tortilla. she does a quick intro with her arm slung around your shoulder. “hello everyone, me and this hottie over here have a great video for you today, enjoy!” she says cheekily, you roll your eyes at the pet name and ignore the teasing coming from behind the phone.

you fill your mouth up with water and try not to laugh at mary’s appearance, she was clearly trying to make you laugh and it took everything in you to hold it in. you send her a warning glare before holding your hands up for scissors, paper, rock.

you win the first one and gently slap mary’s cheek with the tortilla, clearly missing the challenge. people awe at you from behind the camera and you look at them confused, mary swallows her water and laughs. “you’re so cute, (y/n/n)!” millie yells and you try not to laugh at her.

“you need to slap hard!” mary exclaims, your eyes widen but you nod, gesturing for her to continue. you win again and look at mary trying not to laugh. you slap a little harder but still quite gentle and mary smiles at you, swallowing her water and pulling you into a little hug.

“i’ve picked the wrong person to do this with” she coos, you swallow your water and laugh when she cradles your head to her chest. “you’ve gotta slap me really hard with it, love, don’t hold back!” mary smiles at you before separating again.

you get back into position and do scissors, paper, rock again, this time mary wins and you look at her nervously. she smirks and lines the tortilla up next to your face. you let out a little squeal in fear as she pretends to slap you but doesn’t. the team laughs brightly at the interaction, some of them a little scared for your cheek.

mary finally slaps you with the tortilla and your eyes widen in shock and you spit out a little water in the process. the slap was hard, so hard that she broke the tortilla in the process. people let out shocked gasps and laughs as they watch you recover. you were trying not to spit out your water from laughter but failing completely, you keep laughing with little spits of water coming out of your mouth while you hold your cheek.

mary looks at you in shock, swallowing the water and cradling your face between her hands. “baby! oh my god, i’m so sorry” she looks into your eyes and smiles when she sees you laughing.

“shit, mearps, the gym is working out for you” you joke, she kisses your slapped cheek repeatedly as an apology and you can feel yourself growing warm. “i’m so sorry, my love” mary says earnestly, you kiss her cheek back and tell her not to worry about it.

you walk up to the camera with a big grin, showing them your cheek with a laugh. “confirmed, mary earps is a tortilla abuser, slapped her own girlfriend” you joke, mary laughs brightly from behind you, “oi!” she hoists you over her shoulder and you let out a gleeful laugh, she playfully slaps your behind and runs off. esme stops the camera and the girls watch it back together, pissing themselves laughing at it.

mary takes you to a hidden corner of the room and pulls you into a loving kiss, it lasts for a couple seconds before she pulls back and inspects your cheek. “i’m so sorry, baby, i overestimated the strength of the tortilla” she laughs, “it’s okay, babe, now i can say mary earps slapped me with a tortilla, big achievement” you shrug, she smirks and closes the gap, kissing you again quickly before walking towards the girls again.

—

the video blows up, becoming one of the most popular world cup videos as well as the confirmation of your relationship. everyone claims “they knew it” on the video and sending the two of you support. now that everyone knows, mary will make couple tiktoks with you and feeds everyone in the woso community their favourite couple content.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill!!! - just pretend it’s you xx ily chlo

liked by mayaletissier and 44,232 others

1maryearps: when she confirms the relationship 🫦

view all comments

yourname: mary earps slapped her own girlfriend with a tortilla

↳ 1maryearps: i said i was sorry!

↳ yourname: YOU. SLAPPED. YOUR. GIRLFRIEND. WITH. A. TORTILLA

↳ 1maryearps: I’M. SORRY.

↳ yourname: you’re lucky you’re cute

↳ mbrighty04: you’re the cutest (y/n/n)!

↳ yourname: no you mills!!

↳ 1maryearps: i’m sorry, am i missing something here?

↳ mbrighty04: mind your business

[drjholtzmann]

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

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

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough. 

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.” 

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look. 

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. 

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end. 

“So… it is related?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette. 

“Show me?” 

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned. 

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?” 

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know. 

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.” 

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly. 

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.” 

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.” 

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.” 

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.” 

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile. 

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

[alienguts]

To a Man's Heart (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce keeps forgetting to eat.

Warnings: None unless food counts

Request?: No

A/N: It turns out that I don't like to describe people eating.

Y/N and Bruce had been together for so long that they knew each other inside and out. Every little habit and quirk was accounted for and as soon as something was off, they knew something was wrong.

But there was one thing that Y/N just could not fully understand: how it was possible for Bruce, one of the most ripped and athletic men she’d ever met, to go without food for so long. She’d known guys who played sports in high school who never stopped eating, but there were times when she’d seen Bruce eat three bites of a sandwich in an entire day before heading out on patrol.

It was roughly 8pm when Y/N descended the steps into the Cave, her slippered feet softly clanking against the steel. Bruce had told her earlier that day that he wasn’t planning to go out on patrol and had sent the boys instead, but she still didn’t expect to find him at the computer in deep concentration. She almost hoped that he wouldn’t notice her almost creeping up behind him, but of course nothing got past Bruce, even without all of his detective equipment.

“What’re you doing down here?” he asked as he turned around in his chair to see her.

“Just checking up on you,” she said as she made her way across to him. “I know you’re usually quiet but I never heard from you all night.”

He smiled warmly and held his arms out to her so she could climb into his lap. “Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in this case I forgot to go back upstairs.”

Y/N let herself be pulled into his warm chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder, not realising how much she’d missed his touch after not seeing him all day. He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her arms and shoulders. She felt like she was just about to drift off to sleep when a low growling sound snapped her out of her daze.

Not again.

“Bruce, when was the last time you ate something?” she asked as she pulled herself up to look at him.

“What?” Bruce asked, as if it was a ridiculous thing for her to ask him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” she asked again, slower.

He was quiet for a second, the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to remember. “Maybe around noon? I’ve spent more time working than thinking about food, Y/N.”

Y/N let go of him and stood up before grabbing his hands and tugging on them. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you something to eat,” she said. She could feel him trying to resist, but he knew better than to try to stop her from getting him to take care of him.

Bruce let her pull him to his feet, his joints stretching out from sitting down for so long, and followed her back up the stairs to the Manor. The warmth of the study hit both as soon as the hidden door slid open and light from the sun filtered into the doorway. Even though it was only 8 ‘o clock, it was still light out and birds were singing outside. 

After spending all day underground in the Cave, Bruce welcomed the quiet of the Manor and could feel himself relaxing with each step they both took through the study. The hum of electronics slowly faded out of earshot as they made their way out of the study and towards the kitchen, their footsteps echoing around them.

Once they’d reached the kitchen, Y/N guided Bruce to sit at the table before going to the fridge and opening it.

“What’re you in the mood for?” she asked as she studied the fridge’s contents.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” he said and got up to stand behind her. “You know I’m not picky.”

“Bruce, I already had dinner.”

The fridge was relatively bare, considering that it was the day before she and Alfred did the grocery shopping and they had a full house of vigilantes to feed. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on an almost empty pack of bacon, along with some leftover lettuce and tomatoes.

“I could make you a BLT,” she offered, looking over her shoulder at Bruce.

He leaned down to softly kiss the top of her head. “BLT sounds wonderful,” he said.

Even though she usually insisted that Bruce not help her in the kitchen, Y/N let him slice the tomatoes and lettuce for her while she cooked the bacon. She knew Alfred wouldn’t be happy if there was a small kitchen fire and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. Thankfully, he’d managed to do it without cutting himself or making too much of a mess.

Clearly some of his swordsmanship translates to the kitchen, Y/N thought as she assembled the sandwich and plated up. They sat side-by-side at the table, and as soon as Y/N gave Bruce his plate, he took one half of the sandwich and handed the other half to her.

“No, Bruce, it’s yours,” she said as she tried to push his hand away.

“You should eat something too,” he said before taking a bite of his half.

“I already ate, you have it.”

He shrugged and continued to eat, almost wolfing the sandwich down. Obviously he was hungrier than he’d thought before.

“Is it okay?” Y/N asked. “I know I’m not as good a cook as Alfred is.”

“It’s delicious,” Bruce said, giving her a warm smile. “You are a good cook, miles better than I could ever be.”

“It’s just a sandwich Bruce,” she said bashfully, “how hard can it be to get right?”

“Trust me, I would know,” he said through his last bite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s kind of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a great job,” Bruce said as he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “What would I do without you?”

“Same as you did before, leave whatever Alfred makes you go cold.”

Bruce laughed and came back to the table to gather Y/N in his arms.

“See, this is why I married you,” he said as he gently pulled her to stand. “You make me food, and you make me laugh.”

Y/N returned his hug and buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent and letting him take over her senses.

“You’ve been sitting at that computer all day,” she said when she lifted her head up. “You needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement. “I think I’m gonna call it a day,” he said. “This case isn’t that urgent and the boys are dealing with patrol.”

“Does that mean you’ll come watch a movie with me?” Y/N asked, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

Bruce smiled and leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. “Yes it does,” he said. “Just don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on you.”

Y/N let go of him and took his hand again to lead him to the living room. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep, at least I get to spend some time with you.”

[enzenwriting]

7 days-without a week pt3 (2.3k words!)

Jake sim x reader. #childhood friends #angst #fluff

If someone said the days came easy to you, they’d be wrong. so wrong.

your days started with Jake and ended with Jake, so when your mind and heart finally decided to let go, filtering Jake out was almost impossible.

you almost walked to Jake’s car, you almost yelled for him across the street, you almost messaged him, and you almost always wanted to stray towards him.

Ah. How embarrassing. Maybe you were clinging to him too much for a best friend only.

the argument and his words still felt very raw as if it’s the only memory you have with Jake.

“I was really being too much for a best friend huh. Now I see it and I don’t blame him for making me realise”

“Don’t be stupid y/n. Anyone would kill for a best friend like you. He’d wish he would’ve realise it sooner” euijoo

but you wish that soon never arrives. You’d rather be caught drinkjng expired milk than to be how embarassing you used to be.

“Well, there’s no point on that now. It’s time to focus my energy somewhere else. I’d get rid of this feelings for him so I can be good best friend again someday”

euijoo hated how hard you were to yourself 😔

you were initially hurt because of the rejection and then embarrassment settled.

Each emotions was a rollercoaster everyday :(((

the second week was going a lot easier, you’re attending the art club for help to busy yourself from Jake.

YOU THOUGHTTT

only to find him walking inside the classroom too????????

Jake’s eyes found and focused on yours ONLY, and suddenly he’s sitting next to you. He doesn’t even hear his friends call him

because jake was going to finally fix things with u

after he’s done shaking internally

Jake sees you concentrates back on painting. He realises it had been a while since he’s watched you in serenity.

Ah Adorable.

But he’s got to do something than stare like a creep

“uhm... so are we supposed to just colour this anyway we like?” Jake felt SICK and nervous speaking to you

and you’re no better. first his voice surprised you, then nervous settled because he was speaking to you as if nothing had or is happening between you two

You only hum and nodded, returning back to your work

awkward 🐦‍⬛

He felt awkward. He longs to talk to you and spend more time with you without having this awkward tension. Jake just wants to talk to you about anything and hear you rant about absolutely anything and everything.

So he tries again

“can… can we share paint? They didn’t give me any”

“Sure... Or you can have mine. I can ask euijoo to share with me instead” he missed your voice but the ugly mention of the male’s name struck a bullet.

just when you’re about to stand, he holds your wrist, stopping you from moving.

Ah… he should’ve done this when you first walked away he thinks.

He should’ve followed those kdrama moment

“No, we can share instead right?” his hold on your wrist loosen but his eyes on yours are still strong

“and you know I don’t like sharing what’s mine with other people” he mumbles, maybe without a thought to his words.

Uh? Did he mean you? The audacity

“This isn’t about the paint anymore… right?”

“Y/n, I’m really sorry about that day.”

“I was… I was really annoyed that day. I know it’s not an excuse, and I should’ve spoken to you about it maturely but I- um... AHHH”

Jake sim is frustrated at himself

“Look, what I’m trying to say is. I’m so sorry for all the shitty things I’ve said and done. I just- I miss you. I honestly really miss you and I just want my best friend back. Can we start over?”

What? To start over? “What does that even mean?”

“I think I- no, I like you too y/n.” He bites his lips “and I really miss you-“

Ahh. So that’s what it was about.

“You don’t like me Jake. You’re only saying that because I’m no longer around you. You’re only feeling guilty and you’re mistaking it for something else”

“Y/n no-“

“I don’t want to start over.” To start the embarrassment all over again? no. you don’t want that

“You’re mean y/n. You don’t get to decide whether I like you or not”

“I’m mean? If I’m mean, then what were you that day? Just give up on this Jake”

“Look, I’m already apologising for that. I’m sorry again but I won’t give up. I can’t give up” he knows it sounds desperate and embarrassing but he can’t give up

“ I’m saying it nicely Jake. I don’t want to start again”

“That’s unfair. You didn’t give up for years, aren’t you being a hypocrite?” oh that shouldn’t have slipped out

“I’ve given up now. You should too-“

“Nope! I’m not giving up y/n. I’ll show you it’s real, be prepared for it!” and he’s off, leaving a half painted bear.

Sim Jake stuck to his word.

“The turn have now tabled” Riki laugh, watching Jake run towards your direction with a hot chocolate in hand early in the morning.

“He really isn’t giving up huh” Sunghoon laughs but is impressed at how much effort their friend is giving

Jake had been going strong in his pursuit for 4 days. Greeting you every morning, asking if you want a ride, messaging you, trying to talking to you, and is always gravitating towards you.

You’re afraid to say Jake had also been acting beyond the boundaries of friendship.

One day, you’re wearing a short sleeve when a cool breeze took over the afternoon. Heeseung saw you shiver and offered his blazer. Jake stood up, threw the clothing on the floor and zipped his hoodie on you instead.

rip Heeseung’s blazer💔

Another one was when he joined yours and euijoo’s walk to the shop just outside of the campus. He noticed you’re walking towards the road, so he jogs next to you, shielding you from an incoming slow vehicle.

The one which stuck out to everyone was that time after one late lecture. Jake who happened to be waiting for you outside of your class, instantly saw it wasn’t your day when you walked out.

His heart broke for you :( (his bby is stressed) so without a word, he walked up and engulfed you in a hug amidst the crowd. His hands covered your ears preventing you from hearing the whispers until everyone dispersed

that day , you followed as he took you to his car and sat you on the back seat. He wrapped you with his spare blanket (he’s always had for you) and played your playlist to calm you down. He never left your side until you were calm enough to go home (driving you home too ofc)

“I can’t believe not only you rejected him, but also not giving in when he makes moves on you. I’m kinda impressed but also confuse” euijoo comments.

“He’s returning your feelings and showing he’s determined, but you still haven’t changed your mind?”

“What if it’s only temporary joojoo? Jake can be easily influenced sometimes and I’m scared this is one of those times”

“Well, i think this influence might a good thing this time and if it’s coming from the right people like Jay, heeseung and the rest? I don’t think it’s anything to be scared of. You trust them too right?”

You do. but you’re still scared

even if your heart does little flips each time he’s around you

“day 5 of Sim Jaeyun being a total simp!” Riki laughed.

“My guy is going strong but y/n isn’t changing her mind still” Heeseung joined “rightfully so”

“Stop, I can’t think of anymore ways to tell her I actually do like her, and I feel like each day I lose her” Jake slumps on his friend’s bed

“Is she going to the match this Sunday? You can totally ask Press Yang to come up with a plan. He’d be totally down for it. That guy loves drama”

Oh! That’s it.

“Hey, I have to go. Just thought of something” Jake is already rushing out of the door; the the way all his friends wave him off except Jay, busying himself on his phone.

On the 6th day, you find Sim Jaeyun outside of the library after your study session.

He waits for the crowd to disappear before he speaks.

“can i- can i try one last time?” you’re confused

“One last time y/n. I’m showing you I’m serious about you and us this time. And if- if you still want me to give up after, I’ll respect that”

“what do you mean”

“We have a match tomorrow in the school court and I’d like it if you came.”

“Oh! But it’s totally up to you, but it would be cool if you came… um because it felts empty not seeing you there- I mean. Oh my god, this isn’t part of what I practised”

There’s your awkward first year highschool Sim Jaeyun

“Here too. It’s not much and there’s a note inside for you too. Don’t read it now before I leave so” you take the folded fabric and watch as Jake makes a run for it

The boy literally pulled lighting fucking mcqueen🏃🏻‍♂️

His antics makes you chuckle. Brings you back to first yesr uni

you reach for the note inside and pocket it before unfolding the piece of cloth.

It’s his jersey with his name and your favourite number

You don’t remember Jake having this number on the back of his uniform. It had always been his lucky no.5

You reach for his note and read it.

“Hey yn, I know this isn’t much but, as you can see, I changed my jersey to your lucky number. It might seem cheesy but, I realise I’ve always been lucky with and by your existence around me. You’re my lucky charm. I was a little stupid to realise that a bit too late. I’m sorry. Initially, I felt embarrassed planning on this, but then I felt happy and excited to do this for you. I understand why you like to gift me things now :)”

Jake sim is a silly silly boy

“I don’t know if you can tell yet but I actually really like you. And I really want this to work for us if you’re willing to trust me again. I would try my best not to fuck it up.

I know this probably isn’t going to make up for all the damage I’ve done but this is my best for now. If you decide not to come, I totally understand and I’ll stick to my words. I miss you. I miss my best friend and Layla’s adopted mom. I’m sorry that it took this much for me to realise how important you are”

Silly boy. Your heart hadn’t really changed huh

Jake Sim feels sick once again. He’s in the court with his new number on the back. The game starts is a couple of minute…

BUT HE CANT FIND YOU.

He knows it was up to you at the end of the day but it doesn’t stop his heart break when the whistle blows and the game starts without his lucky charm.

Jake is now alone by his locker. He refused celebration invites by his team member after a huge win.

He didn’t feel like he won at all because he lost you.

He understands now. He understands how you felt at that moment when he said those words 2 weeks ago. He knows how it felt to be abandoned by your own best friend. The pinky promise you both made not to leave each other at the age 10 doesn’t matter.

All because he broke it first

Jake felt the tears come down and he can’t blame anyone but himself. He’ll have to live with it.

Jake Sim is ready to face his new reality. He walks out of the court towards his car-

to find you leaning on it.

shivering in the evening breeze with his jersey on your body

Is he dreaming? Is he hallucinating again? But you weren’t in the court?

“Oh! Congrats Mr. MVP! You played well there. was it the lucky charm on your back?” you grinned “had to sit somewhere else today. You’re too popular”

Jake feels his knee wobble, and wobble they did until he’s kneeling with a tear rolling down again.

Oh so that’s why you weren’t in your seat

You were there. You’re in front of him now.

His breath is shaky but a release of relief comes out.

You jog towards him, sitting down to his level, wiping his tears. “Why are you crying? You literally won”

“You?”

You nod

Jake Sim really won. In a quick swift, he lifts you in a tight hug, spinning on the spot.

“I promise I won’t hurt you again. I promise I’ll be your best friend. I promise I’ll be your soulmate. I promise I won’t make you leave like that again”

“You’re my best friend. I won’t let you”

“And as your boyfriend I promise I’ll keep my promises”

“And as your girlfriend. I keep reminding you”

7 days a week, what did they mean to each other.

ׄ 　۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ ׄ

an: that’s allllll for me! I hope you also found the Easter egg in there🤭

lots of love🥰

7 days masterlist / main masterlist

[worseforwords]

The Beginning

(Alessia Russo x Reader)

Chapter II of Marshmallow

The anticipation hung in the air as you opened the door, revealing Alessia to your parents. Greetings were exchanged, and your mom, with a sly grin, asked, “Hi sweetheart, is this her?” You sent her a nervous smile. “Yes, this is my girlfriend, Alessia,” you said, trying your best to sound natural. “Yes, we know who she is, darling. She’s quite the star, you know?” Your dad joked, as if you weren’t also a professional athlete. Chuckles filled your hallway as you invited your parents into your living room.

After the initial polite and just a little awkward introductions, you all settled down at the dinner table. Wine was poured, dinner was served, and the atmosphere was pleasant. Everyone made small talk; your dad made some jokes, and the initial awkwardness melted away easily.

However, you knew your mom well enough to know that as wine continued to flow, it wouldn’t be long before she lost some of her filters. “So, girls,” she began, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin, “I don’t recall you two ever being very close. Y/N certainly never spoke about you much. So, tell me. How did this happen?” She waved her index finger between the two of you to explain what she meant by ‘this’.

You shot your mom a glare, a wordless plea to dial it down, rolling your eyes when she didn’t respond and instead looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. “Fell for my football skills, obviously,” you grinned slyly while internally panicking. Under the table, away from your parents’ gaze, Alessia quickly squeezed your hand, silently signalling that she had this covered, which had you looking at her expectantly.

“Actually, it wasn’t football-related at all,” she started. “You know, on the pitch, Y/N is a force to be reckoned with—focused, passionate, a bit... intimidating, honestly. I always assumed she’d be the same off the pitch.”

She paused, letting curiosity build. “At an away match early in the season, Kyra lost her mother’s necklace. Kyra’s from Australia and had only just moved here to join the team. She was probably hiding how daunting it was to move to the other side of the world at her age.”

In that moment, your eyes met, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as you realised what story she was about to tell. A subtle smile from her as you wondered if and how she knew about what you did.

“So everyone, all in good spirits of course, teased her about her clumsiness. We were all having a laugh when Y/N left the room quite suddenly, without many people noticing.” Alessia, with a fond smile, continued the story. “When warm-up time came, both Y/N and Kyra were still missing. That’s when I offered to go find them. I discovered them in the dressing room, and there was Y/N, holding Kyra’s necklace in her hand.”

The realisation hit you that she was indeed talking about what you thought she was. You didn’t know she had noticed, and you felt your cheeks flush at the unexpected revelation. Alessia’s tone softened, “Y/N was helping Kyra dry her tears, cracking jokes to cheer her up. It was a side of Y/N that I hadn’t seen on the pitch, a softer, caring side.”

Everyone at the table stayed silent, waiting for Alessia to continue telling her story as she took a quick sip of her wine. “Later, I found out from a staff member that Y/N had insisted on going back to the bus. She didn’t want to leave until she found Kyra’s necklace, tucked in between two chairs.”

As Alessia spoke, her words painting a picture of a side of you that even you hadn’t fully acknowledged, your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and something else. You hadn’t expected her to notice the small act of kindness, let alone share it with your parents. But, as her words lingered, a warmth spread through you. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

You stared at your plate, trying to hide your now likely glowing cheeks, poking at your food and thinking back to that moment as Alessia continued, her gaze warm as she sent your parents a quick smile, “After that, I started noticing more of these acts of kindness from Y/N, not just for Kyra but for everyone, and never taking any credit for it. It’s those moments that made me fall for her.”

That last sentence had you accidentally drop your fork onto your plate with a loud clang, grabbing your parents’ attention as you looked at Alessia, studying her face as it was now her turn to avoid any eye contact by focusing all her attention on gathering some spaghetti on her fork. You were pretty sure your mom was saying something like “aww” in the background, although that seemed like noise to you as you were sure you saw Alessia’s cheeks flush as well now. She looked flustered, clearly taken aback by her own words, yet somehow all you could think about in that moment was how beautiful that made her look.

The room fell into a brief silence after Alessia’s heartfelt recount of that day. Your heart, which had been racing a moment ago, now thudded softly. Alessia’s gaze now held yours, and suddenly you felt something beyond the charade you were playing. As she looked away again, you found yourself wanting to say something. Yet, words eluded you, and all you managed was a grateful smile.

You pinched yourself under the table, trying to rid your mind of the spiral it was heading towards. It only semi-worked, and any distraction was useless as long as the person causing your inner turmoil was sitting next to you, drowning you in her perfume. You didn’t really think about your actions when you suddenly got up from your place at the table. When you felt everyone’s eyes on you, you quickly stacked some plates, starting to clear the table.

Before you could grab Alessia’s, however, you felt her hand on yours, stopping you in your tracks. “Let me take care of that. Everyone got room for dessert?” Your parents both smiled and nodded as you started to panic again. “Oh, I didn’t g—” you started, but Alessia quickly stopped you again by softly putting her hand on your shoulder and sitting you back down. “Don’t worry, I got this. Just wait here.”

“Did you really do that?” Your mom’s voice drew your attention back to the table. “Yeah,” you said, thankful for the moment of peace as you took a sip of water in an attempt to cool down a bit. “That’s really sweet, honey. I guess we raised you right.”

The three of you chatted away for a few minutes until Alessia returned carrying four plates with some delicious-looking tiramisu. “If you guys are anything like this one over here,” she gestured towards you, “I think you might like what I’ve made.”

Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the surprise dessert as Alessia, upon your mom’s curiosity, spoke about her Italian roots. Your dad remarked that it was the best dessert he had ever had, to which your mom insisted Alessia sent her the recipe as she’d never seen your dad this quiet.

When everyone had finished the delicious tiramisu, your dad mentioned something about a basketball game. Alessia, a bit of a basketball enthusiast herself, asked him which team he supported, and before you knew it, they were caught up in a conversation you and your mom could not contribute to in the slightest. After a while, you decided to just turn on the game for them to watch whilst you and your mom took care of the dishes.

“She’s a catch,” your mom immediately said when you two were alone in the kitchen. “She’s really lovely.” “Yeah, she really is,” you said, and you realised you didn’t have to lie about that. “The way she looks at you, and how she talks about you is really special, Y/N. You should hold on to that,” she added. “I know mum, thanks,” you said, your head starting to spin again wondering what she meant by ‘the way she looks at you’.

When you went back into the living room to collect the last items from the table, you saw Alessia and your dad both shouting angrily at the TV. You chuckled quietly as you picked up an empty wine bottle and some napkins. A warm feeling crept into your stomach as if you had just taken a sip of strong liquor, and you wondered if it had anything to do with you seeing Alessia getting along so well with your dad.

By the time you and your mom had finished cleaning up and going through all the recent family gossip, the game was over, and everyone decided it was time to go bed. Your parents stayed in the guest room, and you and Alessia took off to yours to wait until the coast was clear, and she could sneak off to Lotte’s.

“I think that went pretty well,” Alessia started as she sat down on the edge of your bed. “I hope they liked me.” “Oh, they loved you,” you said. “You were perfect. Thank you for doing this, Alessia.” You sent her a quick but kind smile. “Alessia,” she mumbled. 

“What was that?” You asked. “Oh, nothing. It’s just I’ve noticed you keep calling me Alessia. It’s not very girlfriend-y, is it? Maybe you should call me something cuter,” she said, a teasing grin on her face. 

“Oh, should I now? Like what?” You said, matching her teasing tone, not giving her enough time to answer as you plopped down next to her. “Hmmm shall I call you… buttercup? Sweetie pie?”

“Noooo, none of those please!” She giggled. “Honey? Pumpkin?” You continued. “Y/N! You know what I mean!” She laughingly exclaimed as she grabbed a pillow to smash you with. “Muffin? Marshmallow!” 

You and your snake reflexes caught both her wrists before the pillow could reach your face. “Why are they all food related?” She grunted, trying to escape your grasp. 

“Oh, you want serious ones? Fine. Have it your way, babe,” you grinned smugly. Alessia clearly saw her chance as she stopped trying to rid herself of your grip and instead suddenly lifted herself off the bed, using gravity to push you and the pillow down beneath her.

You knew you had lost the battle when you felt the pillow connect with your face and then your body, Alessia keeping you trapped between the bed and the pillow. “Hey! Is that still not good enough?” You asked, a chuckle escaping your mouth. She pressed down a little harder, grinning at your useless squirming. “Cutie! Sweetheart? Baby girl?” You tried. 

“That’s more like it.” She loosened her grip slightly. “Sunshine,” you added as you used the momentum you gained to push yourself back off the bed. “Beautiful,” you said, a bit more quietly as you suddenly found yourself sitting face to face with Alessia again. 

There was a bit of an awkward silence after that one, your eyes meeting and then both looking away and quickly getting off the bed. “Yeah, that’ll do. Or you know, you can start by calling me Less or Lessi instead of Alessia.”

“Fine, I’ll consider it. I think the coast should be clear by now, by the way,” you said, opening the door and peaking around the corner, nodding at Alessia after. “Good night, Y/N,” she whispered. “Good night, marshmallow,” you whispered in return, to which she sent you a quick glare before quietly sprinting off to Lotte’s room.

What followed after was a restless night. A combination of all the events of the night and the alcohol still in your system left your mind a spinning mess. You eventually tired yourself out and fell asleep, but not before you noticed light starting to seep through your curtains.

When you woke up the next morning you felt exhausted and confused. At first, you thought last night might’ve just been a dream, but then you noticed one of your pillows was still on the floor, and you knew it had been real. You stumbled downstairs to be met with Alessia cooking breakfast in your kitchen. You wondered how she became such a good actress because the sight felt oddly familiar to you, like she did this for you every morning.

“Morning marshmallow,” you said, voice still raspy as you startled her out of her focused state. “Morning Y/N, how did you sleep?” She smiled, and you wondered why she didn’t fight the new nickname. “Hey, how come you get to call me Y/N?” You asked, crossing your arms. 

“So you didn’t sleep well, huh?” She looked up from the counter to meet your eyes, tone almost accusatory but her look rather soft. You had become quite good at changing the subject when you didn’t want to talk about something, yet somehow she had already figured you out. You tried to busy yourself with making coffee, but you soon felt a hand on yours, stopping you in your tracks. 

“How about you go take a shower? I’ve got this covered,” she said, hand not leaving yours before you set the pot back down. You wondered when her little touches had started to set your skin on fire yet make you shiver at the same time. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

After your shower, you made sure all doors were closed before you had your morning chat with yourself in the mirror. After all, Alessia apparently knew about your weird habit, and you could not afford having her listening in on this one. Today you were in for a stern talking to from yourself. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” You asked yourself, sending a harsh glare to your own reflection. 

“You can’t do this to yourself, and furthermore, you can’t do this to her. She is doing something really nice for you, and you can’t turn something you both agreed on was just pretend into something more. It’s not fair to her. You know she has a boyfriend. Frankly, Y/N Y/L/N, you’re being extremely inappropriate and it has to end now. Today, you behave yourself.”

As you walked back down the stairs, the smell of scrambled eggs and fresh coffee caught up with you, and you found your parents and Alessia sitting at the table with the delicious food in front of them. “Yesterday’s tiramisu and now this? She’s a keeper Y/N!”

The rest of the day went by swiftly as you gave your parents a tour of your neighbourhood and then some other parts of London, with a newfound determination to keep your walls up. ‘Friendly, but not too friendly’, is what you kept telling yourself as you interacted with Alessia throughout the day.

When she put her hand on the small of your back as you stood in line at a coffee shop, you thought about the moment before a corner kick in a football match, where your opponent would usually do the same thing. When you were sat shoulder to shoulder on a bench at the park, in your mind she was a tree you were leaning against. When that tree started to talk, you were inside a fairytale. One about friendship, and certainly without a princess. Whatever you had to tell yourself to make the bad thoughts disappear.

The four of you walked by the Thames, you showed your parents some of your favourite sights, and you walked around Covent Garden before settling down for a delicious lunch at your favourite café. After that you took them to the Museum of Natural History where you spent the majority of the afternoon. Everything went surprisingly well and your change of mindset seemed to work. When the sun started to set the four of you settled at one of your favourite restaurants around the city centre.

“Thank you for having us here, girls. I know you both live busy lives, so it’s really nice of you to spend all this time with us,” your mom said as you all waited for your dinner to arrive. “Of course!” Alessia answered with a genuine smile. “It’s been lovely meeting you, finally.” She quickly winked at you. “And you!” Your dad replied as your mom nodded along, both of them smiling broadly. 

“So, Alessia,” your mom started after a brief moment of silence. “I’m sure Y/N has mentioned this before, but Charlotte, her sister, is getting married next month.” You felt your temperature start to rise as she continued. “Now I know you’re a very busy person, so it’s totally fine if you can’t come on such short notice, but she did plan it after you two have a Friday match so Y/N could be there the rest of the weekend.”

You and Alessia shared a few glances in which you desperately tried to communicate she didn’t have to come. “So, Alessia, how would you like a little trip to Paris? All expenses paid off course.” Your mom and dad both looked at her expectantly, but before she could even open your mouth you interjected. 

“Invites went out months ago and we shouldn’t bother Charlotte by adding a plus one so last minute, don’t you think?” You asked, hoping this would solve the situation. 

“A plus one?” Your mom asked. “Don’t be ridiculous Y/N, she’s family now. Besides, I already asked your sister about it and she said she’d love it if Alessia would be there.”

You thanked your lucky stars as you noticed a waiter approach your table with several delicious looking dishes, interrupting the excruciating conversation before your mom could ask anymore questions. The food served as a perfect distraction as you all munched away and hums of enjoyment filled the air. 

You managed to keep up chit-chat about anything an everything but your sisters wedding until all four of you had finished your dinner and took the last sips of your wine. When your mom went to the toilet and your dad went to the counter to settle the bill, you finally had a moment alone with Alessia. 

“Less,” you started. “I’m so sorry about that. I promise you really don’t have to come to Paris. I will make up an excuse for you, don’t worry about it,” you blurted out. 

“Actually,” she started. “I thought it might be fun. Besides, what girlfriend would skip their partner’s sister’s wedding?” You took a moment to examine her expression to ensure she was being serious. “Really?” You asked. 

“Yeah, if you’d like that of course,” she stated, though it sounded more like a question. “Yeah, no, of course, let’s do it.” You smiled at her and she did the same as a brief but comfortable silence fell over both of you. 

“Hey, you finally called me Less!” She teasingly interrupted the moment. “Better get used to it, marshmallow.” You teased back, right before your parents returned and you both got up to leave the restaurant and head back home.

The next morning the four of you had one last breakfast together before your parents left. “So, girls. I don’t mean to rush you and there’s no pressure, but I did promise Charlotte I’d let her know as soon as possible if Alessia would join us in Paris.” Your mom spoke. You and Alessia shared a quick glance as if to check if you both still agreed on what you decided yesterday. “I would love to be there.” Alessia smiled at your mom. “Great, I’ll let her know!”

Once everyone had finished their breakfast you hugged your parents goodbye, Alessia doing the same, and they left. “Less,” you started as she smiled at you finally getting used to not using her full name. “I don’t know how to thank you for doing all this. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you admitted. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I had a great time.” She smiled sincerely. “Do you think it went well?” She asked and you glared at her in disbelieve. 

“Are you kidding me? You’re pretty much the ideal daughter in law. Polite, kind, funny, charming, beauti-” you stopped abruptly as you realised what you were about to blurt out. “-fully talented. You know, at football,” you tried to save yourself as you quickly busied yourself with gathering dishes.

“I best get going,” Alessia said as you looked up at her and noticed her cheeks having a light pink shade. “Yeah, of course.” You put down the plates and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you again, Less, so much.” The hug wasn’t as short as anticipated as you both held on just a bit longer than you would usually.

You belly flopped your tired body on the couch as soon as Alessia had closed the door behind herself. The weekend had gone infinitely better than expected. Your parents fell for your deceit and they loved your pretend girlfriend. You, however, almost seemed to fall for your own deception as well. Was it really just acting? Or did the line between pretence and reality blur somewhere? Surely it couldn’t. This was just your mind being inappropriate again.

Either way, just when you thought you had managed to get through the weekend, it turned out the adventure was not nearly over yet. There was much more to come. The city of love awaited you and your pretend girlfriend. You and your wonderful, sweet, beautiful pretend girlfriend that wasn’t actually yours.

-> Chapter III

[americanwh0rerstory]

i NEED a stoner peter fic.

Stoner!peter x f!reader

SUMMARY: peter and y/n get high together

CONTENT WARNING: weed, suggestive language

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT BELOW. CONSUME AT OWN FAULT

A/N: new banner style perchance? testing some stuff out to see what looks good. expect a lot of different styles, enjoy the fic

“just stay still i’m almost done” he says calmly. he was using you as a rolling table, having you lay down on the bed whilst he used your stomach in order to roll. tobacco, roaches, rizla, and a baggie of pre-ground weed was scattered over your stomach.

he perfectly rolled the little card of filter into the perfect size to fit into the joint, adding just enough tobacco and meticulously sprinkling weed on top of that. in all your years of knowing peter, you’d never seen him so careful with anything.

“y’know i shoulda rolled on your tits, woulda given me an excuse to cop a feel” he joked, knowing you wouldn’t complain about the joke.

and you didn’t. you lay still whilst he rolled, letting the ‘master’ roll for you. obviously it was a self proclaimed title he gave to himself, but you weren’t complaining. you were getting free weed, what was there to complain about?

he looked over at you through his lashes whilst he licked the edge of the rolling paper, taking care to roll it as tight and as straight as possible.

“you got a lighter? mines dead” he says as he packs the joint together, tapping the end of it against your lower abdomen. he glanced over at you whilst you lay back on the bed, being the perfect table

“yeah here” you respond, passing him a white lighter with a ribbon bow hot glued onto it. as well as the ribbon it also had a small ring of gems along the line where the metal met the casing. it was your only lighter that worked but unlike with other people, you knew peter wouldn’t judge your lighter. just by looking at his face you could tell that he liked it, the small shine from the gems caught his eye

“thanks. nice lighter, you make it yourself?” he questioned, his brown eyes glancing up at you whilst he held the joint in his mouth which caused his speech to be slightly muffled. after taking a deep drag he passed the joint to you

“thanks” you murmured before taking a drag for yourself, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it through your nose.

the room soon filled up with smoke, hotboxing you both as well whilst you smoked which only seemed to increase the relaxation that was coming over you. you got clingy when high, so without even realising you ended up cuddling into peter

“you’re cute when you’re high” he taunts playfully, wrapping an arm around your shoulder before taking the final drag to kill the joint. the two of you just stayed cuddling for a moment whilst some cheesy movie played in the background, you didn’t know and didn’t care what it was. all that mattered was that you had peter

[icallhimjoey]

Lost & Found

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader    

Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.    

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!    

Author’s note: i know i already said we were going at a slower pace, but, i really meant it - ive got too much other things going and i apologise! part four might take EVEN LONGER ive got a busy month coming up, so we'll see how it goes! thanks for being patient with me <333

Wordcount: 4.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Your breath hitched as your fingers twitched with need of a self-destruct button when you saw him.

Swimming shorts, black. The ones you’d had in your hands two days before. Linen shirt, short sleeves, beige – unbuttoned. It was one of the things you’d tried on. Your friend had said it looked like a pyjama top on you. You were glad to learn it did not look like a pyjama top on him.

Sunglasses. Black, dark, and designer if you were to go by the large metallic logos on the sides.

Hair sort of all over the place, like he hadn’t touched it after rolling out of bed this morning. Book in hand, paperback, folded corners and broken spine. 

If you were honest, it was kind of a vibe. Until you panned down, and...

Loafers.

You hoped that the glare of the sun didn’t turn your sunglasses transparent enough for Joe to notice you weren’t looking at your phone screen when you saw him step out and enter the pool area.

He walked past a couple of sun loungers that had towels on but seemed otherwise fairly abandoned. The pool was empty, the water too cold to casually dip into, so the towels probably belonged to people who dumped them there before breakfast, just to ensure they’d have a space of their own in the sun later.

Well, it was later now, and had there been no empty sun loungers free of towels, you’d have tossed a random one to claim as your own. Like the one right next to you. Just a big white towel from the hotel on an empty sun lounger that seemingly belonged to no one.

You saw Joe get closer and closer until you realised that he seemed to be coming right over to you.

Maybe he’d seen you and was now just there to come and tell you that he needed his jacket back. The one he gave you last night. The one you were meant to return to room 907. The one you still had up in room 1103.

Listen, it had gotten late. And you’d gotten too tipsy.

You also weren’t sure if you’d remembered 907 correctly, and, what if he was asleep already, you know? You decided after having your 6th drink poured into a plastic cup that you’d bring Joe his jacket tomorrow.

Maybe just after breakfast.

But then, you’d slept right through breakfast, hadn’t you?

You’d woken up two hours after falling asleep, and hadn’t been able to slide back into slumber until after you’d watched the sunrise from your balcony through blinking bleary eyes.

You’d only gotten a very quick gulp of water into your system after brushing your teeth, and now here you were, by the pool, living your best holiday-instagram-filtered-story life.

When Joe walked into earshot, you were ready to launch an excuse at him for not having returned his jacket yet. 

But then he bent and sat down on the sun lounger next to you and you realized; that was his towel. One he'd probably laid down just before breakfast to ensure himself a lounger for when he'd want to enjoy some time by the pool side later.

Later was now, apparently.

Joe sat and took off his loafers as he looked over at the pool where the sun made the surface glitter, and then you saw him turn his head to look at you, giving you a polite smile.

“I was going to bring it over last night,” you blurted out as you sat up a little, “I promise, room 907, I didn’t forget. It was just, it got a bit late, and I didn’t want to maybe wake you– I’ll give it back today,” God, the nervosity practically dripped from the words you squeaked out. 

Joe just smiled, which only made it worse.

“I... I’ll go get it right now, sorry,” you swung your legs to the side but stopped when you heard Joe laugh. 

“That’s okay, no worries,” he quickly said, stopping your feet from finding your flip flops.

“I wasn’t going to keep it,” you reassured.

“I didn’t think you were.”

Okay, good.

“None of my other things have gone missing, so you’re fine,” Joe scrunched his nose and made a face before he got comfy with his book in his lap.

You thought back to that first night with his suitcase. He was sort of right. You could’ve easily kept something - probably would have if you’d listened to your friend who kept telling you, “That looks great on you, fucking keep it,” over and over.

“About that...” you heard yourself say it before you could stop yourself.

“Can I, just, do you want my unsolicited opinion on something?”

Joe found the page in his book he’d left off on and used fingers to bend the spine a bit further. He didn’t really reply, which you took as an invitation to just drop what had been on your mind without holding back.

“Just, I don’t understand, you seem–” you thought your choice of words over just for a second. “You sort of seem like you know what you’re doing. Man on a business trip, expensive clothing, all tailored I’m guessing, and then there’s– I’m sorry, but why would you use two-in-one shampoo?” 

Joe blinked at you a second.

“And not only use it, but bring it?!” 

It took Joe a second to figure out how to react to your animated question. You seemed genuinely grossed out and properly confused. 

Man on a business trip.

That tickled him.

“You um... you went through my toiletries?” Joe asked, eyes back in his book, hoping that maybe the question would get you to blush again like you’d blushed when you’d met at the airport the day before. 

“I went through everything, and you fucking know it,” you couldn’t help but laugh yourself now. “Please tell me that bottle has been in your that bag since the nineties and you don’t actually use it still,” 

Joe snorted, head bobbing a little. 

“I mean,” he started, “It’s how long I’ve had the bag, so that’s not as implausible as you’d think,” 

“Yea, it looks it, Joe” you jabbed, grinning, and that’s when Joe realised. 

The fucking toiletries bag.

The one he’d had since he was eight.

The one his mother had written his name on with black sharpie so he wouldn’t lose it. 

JOE

He could picture it clear as day.

You knew his name because you’d read it on his toiletries bag.

You didn’t know who he was. 

His mother’s handwriting had revealed his name to you, and you didn’t fully understand the wistful little smile that overtook his face for a moment as he frowned at his book a little.

This new knowledge shifted something for him. He could dissect the relief of it all later, if he wanted to. Now, it just made him want to entertain this interaction further.

So he did.

Asked you if he was correct at having missed you at breakfast. Told you he wasn't actually on a business trip, but just there for a short break from the hustle and bustle of the city, of work.

You told him you were there for the same reason, and you swapped similar stories of busy jobs and hectic schedules, of tensed shoulders and worried supervisors who pressured you into trips to the sun, and now, here you were. By the poolside of a nice hotel where they served nice drinks and, would you like a drink? What did you have last night?

“Stop, if anyone needs to get anyone a drink here, it’s me. As a thank you for the jacket and not having me, you know, arrested.”

You got up, were about to wave your card in Joe’s face but found yourself plonking back down onto the lounger.

Weird.

You didn’t feel dizzy at all, but somehow your balance felt off. You went to test it by giving your head a little shake, and then suddenly, the world moved sideways. Gravity pulled at you from the side, making you lean there a little, and then, a lot.

There was lounger where you landed, shoulder first, but there wasn’t enough lounger. After bouncing once, you felt yourself slide.

It somehow felt fine, didn’t make you panic at all, your brain already making sense of it but in all the wrong ways. You didn’t feel so heavy, head all light, and so the thud to the floor wasn’t so bad. It was almost like you floated down there, but then, with your cheek pressed against the warm concrete, everything unexpectedly moved upwards with a rough jerk. Smacked you right in the face and the rest of your body sort of slumped down, hurting your cheekbone and what you thought was your brow bone as your full weight seemed shoved into them.

It hurt.

Not in the same way the cold water of the pool hurt the bones of your feet when you'd sat on the edge of it earlier – this felt worse. Cutting.

Your face was pushed into the ground by your own weight until out of the blue, the concrete moved away from you, and you floated back up. Back the right side up.

There were hands and they pulled, and it hurt your arm, your elbow, your shoulder.

“Did you faint? What the– did you faint? No, you– hang on,”

Hands clambered at you until you were back on soft familiar surface, but everything felt a little sticky. And somehow you were fucking freezing.

“Joe?”

You felt your vocal cords say it, you knew you just said something, but you didn’t hear them. Was your voice not working? Or was it your hearing that had gone?

“You fainted,”

“It’s fine, I don’t– what’s happening, what is…”

“Fucking hell, lay down a second. Legs up too, just, I want you flat– be flat,”

You didn’t move quick enough for Joe’s liking, which Joe realized, of course you fucking didn’t. You just smashed yourself face first into the concrete and your eyebrow was bleeding now. In an attempt to gracefully get your legs up onto the lounger too, Joe nearly flung you off of the whole thing on the other side. Managed to grab you by the side just before you swung too far.

“Hands, hands,” Joe just grabbed them. “Give me your hands.” He was already holding them. “Here, hold the sides for me. I need to move you into the shade.”

And then the whole world moved. A tree came into view as the lounger you were on got dragged across grass. It disoriented you into a dizzy spin that made you forget which way was up for a second, even though you were staring right at up.

In no time, two guys who wore polo shirts with hotel-logo-nametags hovered over you and a lady from three sun loungers over stepped in to tell them to get a first aid kit. Something to clean that gash with. To make the bleeding stop.  

Joe stepped back and let her mother you for a second, told one of the guys who worked at the hotel that you’d gotten up from the sun lounger and then just… fell.  

The lady asked if you’d eaten, and you tried to convince her you were fine and that all of the fuss was a bit much, but then you had to confess that you hadn’t actually eaten and you’d also not slept very well the night before, and the night before that, and, you actually hadn't slept normal in ages, and your shoulders hurt, lower back too, and you’d drank a lot the night before, and, Jesus Christ, you were so fucking cold.  

“Someone get her something to drink, she needs sugar,” 

“And a sandwich maybe? Something to eat?” Joe added, making the other man scurry off.  

There was a moment where the lady and Joe looked at each other and then both looked back at you and you felt so stupidly embarrassed.

“Can I– I want to go back to my room,”  

So you could fester in your own embarrassment by yourself in peace and quiet. Without people staring down at you, and no doubt from all around the pool too with all the commotion that was made.  

“They’re getting you a drink and some food, and you need your eyebrow looked at,” the lady smiled politely at you, using a finger to wipe some of your hair away from getting stuck in the blood there. 

You moved a hand up to touch it, to feel how bad it was, but saw Joe reach an arm out that he quickly snapped away when you halted. You moved it to your mouth instead, to bite at the thumb nail to stop your teeth from chattering.  

You were outside and people were barely wearing any clothes and seemed fine – why were you still freezing?  

“Are you cold?” the woman asked, already looking around for a towel to drape over you. 

“I’m fine,” you lied, and heard Joe huff a laugh. Obviously, you weren’t.  

“Here,” he said, and you saw how he handed over the white hotel towel from his sun lounger. It got carefully placed over your shoulders, and it helped a little, but you just wanted to go upstairs and crawl back into bed. Get under the warm covers and sleep this off.  

The first aid kit arrived, and this random hotel guest in a bathing suit took it from the guy who’d brought it over. She took over completely, cleaned your face with disinfectant and asked for Joe to help her cut a piece of tape to bandage it up. You saw his fingers fumble, shaking a little bit, like he seemed nervous.  

A plated club sandwich and a can of coke arrived. After plenty of “How are you feeling?” and you repeating that you were fine over and over and over in between sips and bites, you were finally asked which room you were staying in, and if you were there with someone.  

You hesitated to answer, afraid that if you said you were alone, they wouldn’t just let you go back to your room. They should, of course they should just let you do whatever, but there were three strangers doting over you all worriedly, and then also a fourth one who, even though you'd gone through everything he brought on this trip, was still technically a stranger too.  

“It’s okay,” Joe then said. “I’ll take her up to her room.”  

And before you could complain about it, he’d slung his towel around his neck, had taken the glass and the plate, then bent sideways and stuck an elbow out for you to loop an arm through.  

It was a little weird to walk into the hotel with Joe. To get into the lifts with Joe. To step into your room with Joe. 

It was a little weirder to say you were going to shower and that you were fine, thank you.  

It was a little weirder when Joe didn’t just accept that and looked at you with worried eyes before he asked if you could shower with the door open, and if he could sit just outside in case the hot water did silly things to your blood pressure. What if you dropped in the shower and no one would be there to stop you from drowning?  

“Drown? It’s a shower.” 

“Place could flood.” Joe shrugged. 

It was weird when you looked at each other a second and you realised he wasn’t going to leave. Wasn’t going to let you shower with the door shut and locked, and so, fine. 

Joe awkwardly stood in the middle of your hotel room, plate and drink still in hand, when you moved the desk chair closer to the bathroom door.  

“I’m sorry, I just, that lady from downstairs will murder me if I don’t make sure you’re okay,”  

You laughed at his excuse and gestured for him to put all he was holding down on the desk.  

“I’ll be quick.” You said, finding a change of clothes to take into the bathroom with you. 

“Please, take your time. Don’t rush.”  

You didn’t rush, but were quick anyway. You now had a man waiting for you to finish a shower and you knew you’d gone through all of his things, but leaving him alone in your hotel room surrounded by all of your things felt invasive.  

The warm water was nice and managed to relax your shoulders a little.  

Not a lot.  

But, you know, all little bits helped. 

“I’m okay,” you called when you shut off the water, hoping maybe Joe would reply, ok great, and maybe leave. He didn’t. Just said, “Good.” and then stayed put.  

When you emerged with wet hair, in soft shorts and a white tank top, Joe smiled at you. His eyes immediately went to the wet bandage that covered your eyebrow still, the tape strong enough to have kept it in place. Good. That was good.

His smile quickly disappeared however, when he saw you rub a hand at your neck, your face displaying a painful grimace. 

“Your jacket,” you pointed and Joe looked. Saw his jacket. Had seen it already. 

He didn’t move to grab it, instead turning back to you. His eyes flicked between your face that displayed painful discomfort and the hand that was squeezing at the flesh of your shoulder now. 

“All right, I’ll leave you alone in a second, but before you tell me you’re fine again, can I… can I just…” Joe held both his hands up. You just looked at them and didn’t move. Joe, in turn, placed both hands on top of your shoulders and frowned at what he felt.  

“Jesus, all right,” Joe turned, looked around the room, eyes darting and brain going at top speeds to put a plan together.   

“Do you mind if I…?”  

Perhaps Joe could start actually finishing his sentences, you thought, although you thought you knew what he meant and shrugged both your shoulders up to your ears.  

“No,” Joe’s eyes grew wide before he tutted at you. “Don’t, that doesn’t help. Come, sit,” 

Joe sat down on the edge of the bed before you did.  

“Face that way,” Joe pointed towards the windows, away from him. You followed instructions without question and felt how he collected your hair into one hand before carefully placing it over a shoulder so it’d be out of the way. 

“You know this isn’t what this is meant to feel like, right?” You could hear the humour carried in his voice. Of course you knew that. You knew you also weren’t meant to bite at your nails until your fingers bled. Weren’t meant to wake up sweating and panting because you’d hallucinated being trapped in a small dark place again.  

You felt the mattress level out behind you as Joe got up and stepped forward. He bent to the side a little, getting his shoulder in front of your face. 

“Here,” he touched himself where he’d touched you just before. “Feel this bit, how you can easily squeeze the soft tissue here?”  

You reached up, hesitated for a moment, but then touched Joe over his linen shirt that had a few buttons done up now, and squeezed where he told you to squeeze. Like it was normal.  

That was… that was all muscle.  

Not as thick and hard as whatever was happening to your shoulders, but these were Joe’s warm muscles you were pressing your fingers into. 

“Now feel yours,” Joe moved back, touched his fingers to where he wanted you to feel, and made you squeeze yourself in the same spot and, yea, okay, that was a big difference.  

“I am also here to relax, but clearly one of us needs it more than the other,” Joe huffed a laugh through his nostrils as he sat down on the bed again behind you and he got back to what he was doing before. 

“I've not gotten a good night's sleep in months,” you revealed as Joe dug thumbs into where it hurt.

Hurt good. 

Hurt so good. 

“You should book a massage,” Joe spoke softly, but kept massaging your shoulders, the bottom of your neck.  

“Hmmh,” you replied, afraid that if you’d say anything else, he’d stop what he was doing.  

Joe kneaded and pushed and squeezed and touched for a while, and you noticed you were starting to have to work really hard at not flopping over. At sitting up right and keeping your eyes open. You repressed yawns and tried to remember to breath properly, but you’d just had a nice shower and you’d barely gotten any sleep before and now you were on your bed in a comfortable outfit and Joe was massaging you with his big hands and maybe you could rest your eyes, for just a second, you know? 

“Here, lay down,” Joe suddenly whispered and without acknowledging how weird it was that Joe just sat outside your bathroom whilst you showered and was now massaging you to sleep in your hotel room, you just laid down. Instantly got comfortable on your stomach leaving enough space for Joe to sit on the side, one knee folded onto the bed and the other dangling down the side still.  

“There’s a– do you feel this?” Joe pushed knuckles exactly where you wanted them. “Huge knot.” 

“Feels nice,” you whispered, breathy and exhausted. 

“I can loosen it up a bit more, but this– you really should get a professional massage,”  

Joe kept working strong fingers and even stronger knuckles into the same spots until you couldn’t even feel it anymore. Just felt numb. Or maybe you were just falling asleep and not stopping yourself from slipping under.  

Joe’s hands never ventured much lower – maybe just a little, but nothing inappropriate. You were only strangers after all. He thought that you knew who he was but then you didn’t and now the playing field was level and, sure, you knew more about him because you’d gone through his whole suitcase, but he was in your hotel room now and you were falling asleep under his touch.

Fell asleep under his touch. 

You woke up in an empty hotel room hours later, covered by the folded-over other half of the duvet you were lying on top of.  

You felt… well rested. Only a little disoriented. A little thirsty. Nothing crazy. 

The last thing you remembered feeling was Joe’s fingers trailing from your shoulders down your arms and back up again and you felt a little sad that he wasn’t there anymore.   

It was still light out, but the sun was setting and it felt like the whole day had passed you by today. You stretched, body feeling looser. Better. Joe was right though, you needed to book a massage. Maybe two. Or three.  

When you looked over and saw Joe’s jacket still there, slung over the back of the chair that was now back in its spot behind the desk, you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped you. He could’ve taken that – should have taken that, and yet… 

Yea, the day had been weird.

Had been weird from the start.

The weird night's sleep, Joe's toiletries bag, the wound above your eye, the empty coke can on the desk, the massage that had put you to sleep for several uninterrupted hours, and, Joe's jacket.

Weird.

And then room service was weird.

And watching the sunset from your balcony was weird.

Then trying to get back into bed for actual nighttime sleep was weird.

All of it, just... weird.

Room 907.

You'd said you would return the jacket today.

And then he'd been in your room and he'd stayed with you until you'd fallen asleep and then he hadn't taken it.

Joe's jacket was still in your hotel room.

Weird.

You tried ignoring it. Tried to watch TV. Scrolled on your phone. Thought of taking a long bath, maybe.

But that stupid jacket. It kept calling your attention from across the room.

Even after turning off all the lights and tossing and turning for about an hour, you could still feel it there. Taunting. Whispering dares.

Bring me to his hotel room.

Take me there.

Come on.

And...

Fuck.

All right.

You sat up in bed, flicked on a light and squinted both eyes at the sudden brightness.

There it was, still in the same spot. Joe's jacket.

“Fine. You win.” you told no one and slung your legs out of bed, grumbling with annoyance as you took the jacket from the chair and found your hotel room key on the side.

Room 907.

The hotel was quiet as you took the lift down two floors and found Joe's room quick enough.

You stalled a second, unsure if you should knock, but then thought, fuck it. You were there now, jacket in hand, and you'd said you'd bring it back today. You knocked softly, then waited and listened. Nothing. Just to be safe, you knocked again, and then heard the soft click of a light switch. You ignored how that made your heart thunder in your throat.

It didn't take long for the door to open. When you saw Joe's tired face, you immediately knew you'd made a mistake.

You should've waited 'til the next morning. This wasn't a cool move.

“Your jacket,” you felt so dumb. Looked so dumb.

But then you caught sight of the smallest of smiles as Joe took it from you, holding the door wide open as he did.

A beat of silence followed where you hoped Joe'd say thanks, so you could tell him thank you for letting you borrow it in return.

The thanks never came.

Instead Joe stepped aside, door still wide open, and gave a tiny backwards nod that welcomed you inside, followed by a quiet whisper.

“Come on.”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — pretty + bkg.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, reader knows how to draw, just general admiration of bakugou bc i love him, calling bkg pretty, implied friends to lovers,

“you’re so pretty.”

bakugou looks up from his wilfully and organised assignment papers, having easily swept through each short answer essay question— highlighting the important parts so he knows how to grasp the big marks.

“the fuck are you on about?” he grumbles, putting down his work to get a better look at your face.

you’ve long since abandoned the task at hand, having taken to doodling in the back of your hefty project book with a pencil that’s about the size of your thumb. “well,” you hum, tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. “i mean,” you hold the pencil up to katsuki’s face to align it— watching as the sun filters down on his golden lashes, as it illuminates the faint freckles he has in the shade of honey across his skin. the led of your pencil scratches across the page satisfyingly enough to make you not miss your sketch book and then you speak again. “you’re just really pretty, katsuki.”

he is, and you mean it.

a blonde eyebrow raises and bakugou scoffs, “now you’re just talking bullshit,” shifting his attention back to the work before him. “get back to work, you have deadlines at the end of the month—“

a heat washes through your body in slow waves, as if you’re a child who’s been told that they’re wrong. you’re not, you’ve never been more right. katsuki is beautiful but in ways that you can never say. you can’t seem to ever string together the correct the words to describe just how beautiful he is— not just physically either. katsuki has a heart of gold, he’s loyal to the death for the people he cares about, he’ll always go above and beyond for them.

“i don’t know how to explain it!” you huff abruptly, still carving out a work of art into your project book— still connecting the freckled dots on his face like constellations in the night sky. “you’re stunning katsuki, a person like you. perfectly imperfect, you should be a statistical anomaly,” heads positioned at other desks in the library whip around to hush your outburst and even the blonde before you makes embarrassed attempts to keep you quiet. “you’re kind, you’re pretty, i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

“what? you got some sorta evidence of my beauty that i don’t know about?”

bakugou’s face crumples, wrinkling at his nose and lips downturned into a frown— and still he looks better than ever painting completed in the history of art. you sketch his expression down. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, sure, but it frustrates you to know that katsuki doesn’t think the same as you— doesn’t see himself as the centre of the universe and the panicle of all things to be loved because though flawed, he’s a wonderful human being. he’s bewildered by your passion to prove him wrong, but says nothing, going back to his work.

the both of you fall into a silence, accompanied by the sounds of katsuki’s highlighter being dragged across the page and your own pencil on lined paper— the lead smudged on your finger tips as you blend it out on the page.

if he didn’t believe your words, he’d have to believe your art— for he is a work of art himself.

“here,” you whisper, tearing out the page with a small doodle of the handsome blonde, care and attention put into every line— highlighting what you see, the truth about katsuki bakugou. “your evidence.”

for a second, bakugou blanks. he may not see the way you do, but he can tell from your simple and heartfelt drawing that you think the world of katsuki bakugou. that he’s important to you, means something to you. you’re gathering your things when he comes to this realisation— drawing clutched in one hand, the other darting out to grab your wrist.

your eyes meet, vermillion red eyes swirling with appreciation and gratitude— the emotions dancing between the dark brown flecks that line his eyes. “f’the record,” bakugou mumbles, thumbing the edge of the page where you’ve drawn him in his most natural and relaxed form. “i think you’re pretty too. in all the ways…just dunno how to explain it.”

when you laugh brightly, bakugou knows there’s no need for him to explain further— a warmth blossoming in his chest, knowing that he’s appreciated by the one person that matters most to him.

you.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Sweet Dreams

Secret Garden

Yandere Neo Anderson x Reader

Warning: Stalking, questioning of sanity and reality, slightly dubious consent, somnophilia, theories and philosophies, existential crisis and a lot more.

Word Count: 9k+

The GIF is NOT mine. Credit goes to the rightful owner.

Unedited

Was she dreaming again? (Y/N) was unsure. Maybe she was. There was no other explanation for what she felt and saw. it was a man, partially hidden in shadows, standing tall, dressed in all black, at the corner of her room.

He was still, hands behind his back. (Y/N) never saw much of him though. If she did, she would not remember it. But she saw him wearing black sunglasses. It was the middle of the night…It was dark, so dark but he appeared darker, like a void sucking everything in. A void calling for her.

But (Y/N) could not move, she could only see. She saw him as he stepped closer, and closer, and her eyes closed again before she could see his face. But she could feel him, looming over her. And his chilling touch. His hand palm on her cheek was not cold as such. But there was something otherworldly about the sensation.

Wake up.

Soon

You will wake up

She gasped as her eyes flew open. Blinking groggily, (Y/N) watched the morning light filtering into her room through the blinds. She let out a breath, touching her bedding to ground herself. 

It was a dream…

Yes, a very realistic dream. 

Her eyes fell into the corner of the room, where stood the mysterious man in her dream. It was, indeed, the darkest corner at night. But with the natural light seeping into her bedroom, she felt safer. 

Not that she felt exactly unsafe in her dream. Just…strange. 

(Y/N) realised that she had been fisting her bedsheets and loosened her grip. Getting off, she made her bed and went on to freshen up. It was a dreaded Monday after all.

—----

“Did you hear about Brad?” (Y/N)’s colleague’s tone suggested yet another juicy piece of gossip, but that barely interested her. 

In fact, nothing truly interested (Y/N). For as long as she could remember, she never felt like she belonged. Not in the office, at home, or with friend circles, or family. She always felt like a misfit. Not in a glaringly obvious way, but it was a subtle yet constant reminder somewhere in her mind that she did not ‘belong’. But (Y/N) had grown up to hide it well. She could mix up with people and laugh—genuine laughter at times. But there was no…deep connection, home, in a way.

Yes, home.

(Y/N) never felt at home.

It was not the kind of feeling that would push one into soul-searching. No, it was…it was like she could never tell if she was dreaming, or was awake.

“Hi, are you even listening?”

“Huh? I–right sorry. I missed coffee this morning.”

“Let’s get some now, I can tell you all about it on the way.”

“About what?”

“Brad.” she leaned closer, looking around “I’ve heard some special agents came to pick him up. 

“Pick him up?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, following her colleague towards the.

“Yeah, for interrogation. He was into weird stuff. Sending crazy voice recordings to his family and friends.”

“As in?” (Y/N)’s curiosity sparked at that. 

Her colleague shrugged “He was into meditation and stuff. Was speaking of things like reality, stimulation, dreams…I don’t know. Not sure. All I know is that he was picked up from his house two days ago and he hasn’t returned.”

“Oh.” that was all (Y/N) could muster up. 

Those mysterious ‘agents’ were special forces, keeping the nation safe but she never felt right about them. The whole system as such—nobody knew their identity, they answered to no one and there was nothing concrete about their department. It was like some ultra-confidential, higher office or something.

Brad was, as far as (Y/N) knew, a normal man, kind. He thought deeper, he perceived differently. The kind to spend more time in the woods, fishing, or camping than on movies, partying, or games. It simply didn’t fit.

Because (Y/N) never felt off about him. Her feeling like that mattered because (Y/N) could sense things. Things that were not visible to the plain eyes. If she felt off about something or someone, it would be proven right. No matter how many hours, days, months or even years later, the uneasiness or eerie sense would prove to be a warning.

Like she had always felt uneasy near her previous neighbours. They were the friendly, bright couple everybody loved and knew. But (Y/N) never went beyond polite greetings and smiles. Small talks, sure, when she had to. But nothing beyond it.

Something just didn’t sit right in her stomach. No, she felt it with all of her body.

And she was proven right, two years later. But she was right after all. The police stormed into their apartment. Nobody knew what was happening, but the forensic team was called in too. The news headlines and stories had all the answers. 

The police found human remains in their house. At least five different samples. But they somehow survived the meticulous cleanings and scrubbings. No human could ever be an open book—there would always be a hidden passage, a hidden chapter somewhere, a part so deftly concealed in plain sight, that it simply did not exist for the onlookers until it was extracted out.

The human mind indeed was a dark, dark place. So complex, so wonderfully efficient and creative but so fragile. Filled to the brim with contradictions.

—---

She knew she was dreaming this time. At least it felt so. How could the long, endless corridor not be a dream? A larger metal door awaited at the end. While all other doors she passed by were coated with a distinctive shade of green—deep, matt but somehow striking. The metal door should have been her destination. Such dreams were not new to her. 

But this dream simply felt different.

Because her steps ceased midway before she turned to the door on her right. It was identical to all other doors she had passed by without much thought. But this door felt like an invitation. It should have been the metal door at the end but it seemed almost foreboding. Turning her attention back to the green door, she twisted the knob. (Y/N) held her breath when she found that it was unlocked.

The man standing behind it looked somewhat familiar. He was a towering figure dressed in all black. With his hair brushed back and black goggles concealing his eyes he seemed—wait! It was the man she saw in her room—dreamt of it, hopefully.

The man frowned at her.

“You are not supposed to be here.” His voice was quiet but held a pleasant depth.

“Wh–what?” (Y/N) blinked. She never had such a dream. “What is this place?”

Before he could answer, the metal door dinged.

“They are here.” his voice held an urgency to it and the air shifted immediately. Now, she felt off. Something was very wrong.

“Who?”

The man did not answer, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside the room, as soon as the door shut, she was plunged into pitch-black darkness.

(Y/N)’s eyes shot-opened. She could feel her heart thundering against her ribs and the way her thin t-shirt clung to her back. It was not supposed to be so hot. It wasn’t hot, but she was drenched in perspiration. 

It was just a nightmare. 

“Calm down, calm down, just…calm down.” (Y/N) repeated to herself.

It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. 

It would have been easier to believe that, had it not been for the tingling sensation on her wrist. 

—--------

(Y/N) was dreaming again of that man.

But he was closer this time. Looming over her bed like an omen. And she could only watch as he stood there. The darkness in the room concealed his face but she knew that he was looking down at her. Peering at her through those dark shades over his eyes. And then, she felt his palm on her cheek. Only this time her eyes were wide open. And his touch felt real, but still otherworldly, like she had touched something charged with energy. It did not hurt her, but it was jarring in a way that felt like she was waking up from a long sleep.

The dark liquid swirled as she mixed sugar into her coffee. It felt like forever since she had had proper sleep since she started having those strange dreams. How could one stranger plague her dreams like that? 

How could she function without proper sleep? Without answers?

Turning her gaze back to the computer, she sighed and resumed her work. Bills needed to be paid anyway—it didn’t matter how many hours of sleep she had.

—----

She was with that man again. But this time, she saw him. All of him, except his eyes. Was she lucid dreaming? Was it even real? And if she were indeed a lucid dreamer then why couldn't she control her dreams? 

What was this man doing in her bedroom? 

She could feel and only watch as his thumb swiped over her lips. It was soft, and smooth but left an electrifying sensation behind. And she thought that was it. She was going to wake up after this and it would be morning—

His movements were smooth when he leaned in. She registered the sensation of his lips first. Before she felt it…Nothing like she had felt before. She felt awake and alive and thousands of tiny electric sparks travelled from her lips to her toes. It was a foreign sensation, but she did not hate it. Instead (Y/N) closed her eyes and surrendered to it.

It was just a dream, after all.

He wasn’t real he wasn’t real

He—

(Y/N) woke up, gasping. There was a lingering sensation on her lips but it was all a dream, right? The morning sun was filtering in and…and there was no one in her room. There was no one in her fucking room. But it felt so real.

And it sparked a longing in her heart.

She was yearning for a man who wasn’t even real?

How pathetically lonely was she?

—-----

(Y/N) kept her eyes on the window glass this time. She knew it was all a dream. But there was a nagging feeling in her mind that simply won’t stop. It had to be a dream, there was no other way. No way that it was real. She had not spoken to anybody about it, afraid that one day those ‘agents’ would come, knocking at her doors. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking. It was like a splinter in her mind, she couldn’t stop wondering if she was living in a dream itself. Nothing felt—

(Y/N) stilled. 

There was a shadow, at the corner of her room. The darkest corner. It wasn’t exactly decipherable but it wasn’t as empty as before, share realised it, peering through the glass. And even through the uneven reflection, she could tell that the shadow moved, it was a man—his silhouette. But by now she knew who it was.

It was the same man she dreamed of.

Or was she even dreaming all the time? 

Had some crazy man been visiting her at night?

And was she crazy enough not to feel the fear? At least not before but now, she felt it with every ounce of her being. The hair at the back of her neck rose, her skin prickled but she remained frozen. Only breathing, trying—really trying to keep her breathing in control. 

He would know.

She knew he would know. Somehow she did.

He was looming over her bed again. In silence, he stood there like a creature of the dark, just observing waiting.

And then with a deliberate slowness, he leaned in. His motion seemed inhumanely slow. Was he…Was he a demon or something?

Did she have her personal sleep paralysis demon?

(Y/N) forced down the whimper that had made its way to her throat. 

Keep quiet, fucking keep quiet!

She shut her eyes close.

That was—

“I know you are awake.”

His voice reverberated in her mind. It was like his essence that travelled through her system. It was low, deep and calm. The kind that had discipline and understanding to it. She couldn’t put a point on it but it was oddly reassuring. The kind of control and confidence that was extraordinary, something that came with a different practice, something that made one stand out.

Her heart thumped against her chest, and somehow (Y/N) just knew that he knew how her heart raced. And the fact knowledge made her cheeks warm, it made her body warm. His breath fell on her cheek before she felt his lips. Soft and warm. His kisses trailed further, making her shiver, until he bit her ear and she gasped.

(Y/N) gasped, waking up to her lit-up room again. 

Was she…Was she dreaming again? But she distinctly remembered that she stayed up last night. She touched her cheek and ear. It was like she could still feel him there—his breath, his lips, his voice!

“Am I losing it already?”

She whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. Had this constant sense of alienation, this loneliness, the longing to be understood gotten to her?

She thought she had accepted the fact that she would never truly belong. Anywhere. With anyone. She was a lost cause. A hopeless case. Her life never felt hers as such. There was no true passion, no hobbies, nothing she felt truly connected to. Nothing she felt was truly hers. Only her intuition. 

But that would not be valid in this world. ‘Intuition’ was a myth—scoffed at, discarded. 

And this every intuition was telling her that everything she felt, saw and heard was real. But a larger part of her mind refused to agree. Logically, it seemed impossible.

Maybe she should book an appointment with a therapist.

But for now, she needed to get going. She couldn’t afford to be late for work again.

Gathering the last bits of her courage and some logic, she managed to book an appointment before she went to work. Perhaps the lack of sleep and company, a true connection was catching up to her finally. Perhaps a few sessions would help her.

—---

When (Y/N) trudged back to her apartment, wanting nothing more than to fall on her bed and sleep. But as soon as she stepped inside her apartment, she sobered up. The hair on the back of her neck prickled in warning, and the goosebump washed over her whole body.

“What the hell?” the whispered words were a part of her reflex. 

The air in her apartment felt still…charged.

Of all her ‘abnormal’ experiences, this was perhaps the most unnerving. (Y/N) felt like she walked right into a room of conflict. Like someone was seething. 

Gathering her courage, she checked each room and corner. Nothing.

Her apartment seemed untouched and pristine.

But the feeling lingered. Like some residual energy.

She knew this made no sense but it felt like something or someone was there in her room. So powerful that the is in her room was charged with the energy.

“Oh, I am truly going mad now.” (Y/N) whispered to herself, baffled by her own conclusions. 

Her intuition had never been stronger but this was making her doubt her sanity. She sat down, her palm supporting her head. Was she truly losing it? 

She was perfectly fine as long as she remembered but ever since those ‘dreams’...

Did something similar happen to Brad as well?

She reached her computer. What time was her appointment again? She was supposed to receive an email of confirmation and a call. But, now she realised, there had been no call from the centre throughout the day.

“What the—” (Y/N) could only stare at the email from the centre. It was sent around an hour ago. A confirmation of her cancelling the appointment.

How was it possible? She had made the appointment the same morning and—and…

(Y/N) searches through her computer frantically, trying to remember if she had sent any email by mistake. There was an email sent. From her computer but it was sent during the hours she was in the office.

Her mind went back to the strange, prickling sensation she experienced the moment she stepped back into her apartment. So someone had been at her place. 

But nothing was missing. 

Only this addition. This email was sent from her computer in her absence. She stared at the telephone across the room. Perhaps, she should be calling the cops? What was stopping her? Nothing.

But she hesitated.

Something in her did not want to—

No. Fucki it!

(Y/N) marched towards the telephone and dialled the number. But she was introduced with nothing but static. There was no ringing, on the other hand, only the constant static. She pressed the button to disconnect the line, but the beep never came. Instead, the static remained.

“What the—”

She stopped the moment she heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone breathing from the other end, even through the static.

“Don’t.”

The sound that escaped her lips was a mixture of a panicked gasp and a terrified whimper. Slamming down the phone, you scrambled back. The apartment was still and silent, but her heart was thundering, screaming in fear.

It–It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

She was awake, how could he hear the same haunting voice from the other line of the phone? But it sounded hard, like a warning this time.

(Y/N) stood there, watching the phone, anticipating it to ring. She had seen enough horror movies to know that the phone rang if it was a sleep demon that was haunting her. It had to be, she had no other explanation for this. This, or she was indeed going mad.

Had the crippling loneliness, the yearning to belong caught up with her? Was it stress?

Or.

Or maybe…

Maybe someone was playing some dirty tricks on her.

Yes, it had to be so. 

Without a second thought, she rushed for her mobile phone. Flipping it open, (Y/N) dialled the police. 

The never-ending beep made her flinch. She did not wait long this time. She did not want to find out what would happen. She simply hung up. Exhausted, frightened and almost in tears, (Y/N) dragged herself to the couch and fell on it. Her fingers gripped her hair and ran through the surface of the couch—anything to ground her to reality. It all felt like an unending dream, a long, vivid dream. 

But how could it be? 

She was awake. She was in the real world. In the physical world and yet she had to keep reminding herself that because some dumbass was playing a sick prank on her. Added to this were her dreams that blurred the lines between wet dreams and nightmares.

Somehow, (Y/N) fell into a restless slumber on the couch. Her dreams were bizarre this time. Green walls, wavy? Moving walls? And—and guns? He was there, shooting. In a black leather coat, blazing guns, making his way through a corridor.

Why did it feel like she had been here? Right here?

What was she?

"It’s a programme."

“You choose to stay away, we hand to replace you somehow, otherwise, he would never make a choice.”

It was a different voice. But somehow she felt like she knew this voice. Something in her was desperate to grasp what he said. She—-she felt like she knew what he meant she simply had to…

What was she doing?

Who was he?

“We cannot do with simply a part of you, you must step in. This is the Seventh. It’s happening again. He is growing desperate, he will turn rogue.”

“Who is he?”

No answer.

“Who are you?” 

“Wha–what is happening?”

“What—”

(Y/N) caught herself speaking in her sleep. Waking up mid-sentence. 

“What the hell is fucking—” 

She gulped in a desperate attempt to soothe her aching throat. She parched again. Looking around, (Y/N) noticed that all the lights in the room were switched off. The space would have been pitch dark if not for street lights—

Wait.

The street lights were golden.

Where was the green hue coming from?

She looked around frantically until her eyes landed on her computer screen. Wasn’t it switched off? She never realised it but she was inching closer, and closer to the device, that showed what seemed like gibberish in neon green, moving downwards vertically.  Blinking her eyes, and on closer inspection, she realised what they were.

“Codes?”

(Y/N) whispered out before the screen abruptly went black, startling her. And then, the typing began. This time, in simple language. (Y/N) pressed on the keyboard, trying to make it stop, to escape the screen, but there was nothing.

I have been searching for you (Y/N)...Through every universe, every cycle. Every lifetime.

“What the hell…”

With shaking fingers, she tried to do away with the screen, but it just won’t go. Nothing sense.

I know you feel it. You feel like you never belonged…

Okay, that was it. With quivering breath and shaking fingers, she unplugged her computer. Relief, at last, came, with a blank, dark screen without any sign of greens or neons, or anything that was driving her mad.

Breathing a sigh, (Y/N) sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall as if she had fought a battle. And perhaps she had indeed. She did not dream of that man this time. But if this was what would replace those ‘dreams’, she would gladly go back to them.

—-----

 This time, she was planning to visit the clinic herself. Maybe she would have the energy and time to do so on the weekend. But she needed to see a therapist. (Y/N) had begun to believe that she was truly going mad.

It was Friday already, one more night, that was it.

That sleep demon did not appear last night, and she dared to hope that he might leave her alone for another night as well. Maybe she finally stopped having such weird dreams. The bed felt softer, or perhaps it was the fatigue that was pulling her into a deep slumber. (Y/N) could barely care, her eyes closed and she embraced the bliss of sleep.

She was in amongst lavender fields. The ground was green, but as far as her eyes could see, she, it was stretches of purples and some occasional patches of green. The sky was golden with a parting kiss with the sun. It had been a while since she had dreamt something like this— peaceful, the place she wanted to be, a place she could lay down and forget the rest. An upward slope in the field ended with a single tree on the top. This place felt familiar. It felt like home. She wished to make her way to that tree on the top. But it was like she was waiting…But for whom?

Instead, (Y/N) lay on the ground, surrounded by the blooms and the gentle breeze teasing her skin. It was all peaceful for a while until she felt the dip on the grass beside her, and then, the warmth over her torso. It was all dark with her eyes closed, but when they opened...

(Y/N) gasped. That was all she could manage with his thumb pressing over her lips. It was him. It was him, and she was no longer in some idyllic lavender field she was trapped in her room, on her bed, unable to move, or even speak with him hovering over her like a true sleep paralysis demon.

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real it’s not real, it’s not real

It’snotrealit’snotrealit’snotreal

Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as she felt her heart threatening to break free of her ribcage. Perhaps that was how she would die. 

He was the same man, he could see him clearly now. With his eyes still veiled under those dark goggles. 

Fuck.

Sleep demons weren’t supposed to be this attractive. She blinked, feeling the warmth of her tears as they escaped the corner of her eyes.

The fear was visceral, if she were able to move, she knew that she could at least attempt to hurt him, just to get away. With him inches away from her, she felt trapped. Like, the world around did not matter, would not matter. He had this…aura around him. Magnificent but chilling.

“Why would you do that? Why would you deny this, me?”

He spoke, but she felt it in every part of her brain. As if they were connected, somehow. (Y/N) was terrified, sure, but she was confused as well. His touch felt like sunlight after storm, his voice was a haunting melody to her senses. It was a frightening combination but it was real, more real than anything she had felt all her life. 

And then, he removed those dark shades, revealing his eyes. Dark, deep eyes that had a sense of recognition and melancholy. And something else…it felt almost old—ancient almost. A yearning she never wanted to dig deep into, the kind of confidence that came with knowledge and power.

Perhaps she was hypnotised, maybe transfixed. Or probably, she had gone truly mad. Why else would she flutter her eyes close in anticipation? Her lips almost prickled, waiting to feel the softness once more. A potent drug that could make anyone an addict. It was beyond reason, beyond fear. The fear remained, but this was not new either. It simply reared its head up.

“You feel it too, don’t you? You have felt it all your life.”

She felt his breath, she could almost feel his lips move. He was so close, and yet just out of her grasp. Like the feeling. The answers she had searched for all her life. 

What was she searching for?

The answers felt just out of her grasp and—

She tasted heaven again. The warmth, the moisture, the feeling that made her toes curl. If it was a dream, it felt more real than the reality itself and if he was real, then perhaps she had never known anything more real before. 

Had she been so isolated, so alone that one dreamy kiss awoke something in her that she did not even know existed? It was arousal, yes, but there was something more to it. It was like she could feel her blood rushing a bit faster, her heart beating just right.

Like she was awake.

"Don't do this, they will come after you if you go."

And she was awake again. His words reverberated in her mind, though she did not even remember him talking. Heck, she remembered nothing beyond that maddening kiss. 

How did he know...Wait, wasn't he a dream?

A peaceful dawn of the weekend.

But her heart was sinking. It was like she had tasted a divine nectar and it was snatched from her after just a touch of the tongue. It made her yearn more. The realisation of how miserable she felt because all her life, she wanted to be understood, to belong, even to the point of desperation. She wanted to be part of the very crowd she unconsciously looked down upon. They appeared so…puppet-like. They had had no proper thought, nothing out of a box, a system. They were almost unreal to her. She pitied them initially. But eventually, she came to envy them. They did not feel that something was wrong, they were happy, they were living, and she was the one observing, turning more disillusioned with each passing day. Questioning. Trying to find a purpose. 

She had all the reasons to go and see a therapist. She did not. Somehow, she could not bring herself to do that. His eerie, unexplained warning rang in her mind.

Instead, she lay on the bed for a while, for a long while, thinking. By the time she was fresh out of the bath, watering her plants, it was afternoon. Her stomach had ceased to grumble, and it was no good news, not with the slight chest pain that came with bad eating habits. Begrudgingly, (Y/N) boiled some eggs and cut some fruits. The leftover spongecake would complete her brunch.

The weekends were a mindless loop, like the weekdays. But (Y/N) felt trapped inside her apartment. A safe trap at that.

She was messed up, wasn’t she?

Feeling trapped and oddly safe at the same time in her own home?

Maybe a walk outside would do her some good.

It was not a pleasant day by any means. Cold, cloudy, gusty wind slapping on the face, ruining people’s hair. Yes, her favourite kind of weather. All she needed was—oh, there it was! A flash of thunder in the sky followed by rumbling. (Y/N) leaned against the bench, casually observing as life went by.

She had seen people marvel at nature, at architecture. She loved this weather, she really did, but she never could truly ‘marvel’. She was sick of this feeling, something in her inherently felt wrong, misplaced. She could never marvel at things, get all those morality and principles fed into her system. They never felt to be…genuine. She felt like the odd one out, no one would understand her. They could not even empathise with her, although all her life, she could feel the aura around people, their energies, their perception, their reasonings, she understood them, to some extent. But what she failed at, was to make sense of the world she was in. And it left her desperate, gasping, tormented.

But the moment she felt his lips on hers, she felt alive. The emotions, the reactions in her felt so real, so intense, it was like something shifted in her. She felt thrilled, truly thrilled by something. Because it felt so real, it felt exactly what she had been searching for all her life, through meaningless relationships, friendships, and interactions.

Nothing felt this deep, this real.

She could not go to a therapist. She was afraid that if she went, she would lose those…dreams and would never see him again. He scared her, true, but she craved him beyond explanation. Like, it was always meant to be. She was meant to crave him. 

It was already pouring when she was walking back to her apartment. (Y/N) rushed through the streets, bumping and brushing against umbrellas and people. 

The moment she stepped inside her apartment, she was ready to carefully keep her shoes away so that they would not dirty the carpeted floo—

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. How could this be?

There were no muddy footprints. Heck, there was not a single trace of wetness on her clothes, or mud, or anything that would indicate that she rushed through a bustling street while it was pouring. Peering out, it still was raining cats and dogs.

“What’s going on here?”

She checked her arms and back, anywhere she was expected to find dampness. She did not even have an umbrella. How could this be? She felt the rain on her clothes and skin, she felt the chills that came with it. But looking at herself now, it felt like a figment of imagination.

(Y/N)’s eyes kept wandering back to the windows. It was raining when she fell asleep.

And it was raining when she opened her eyes. The heavy downpour was now reduced to pitter-patter. But that was just the background noise. Her focus shifted to the familiar figure looming over her. This time, she could move, she realised it the moment his lips descended on hers and her fingers went instinctively for his hair. 

He mumbled something like ‘I missed you’ but she could not heed that. Not when his lips devoured hers. 

“You aren’t even real.” (Y/N) whispered it out. An attempt to keep herself grounded in reality. 

His eyes had a strange gleam to them. Something akin to a menacing amusement. It reminded her of her fear. But well he was tenfold more attractive with that smirk and there went down her self-preservation. She was doomed to die alone, perhaps in the hands of this sleep demon.

“Oh, honey…I am more real than anything you have felt all your life.”

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke, words seeping into her brain, and she knew they were to stay with her for the rest of her life.

Yes, you do feel too real though…

She wished she could delve into it more, but how could she, when his hands were all over her? They cupped her breasts just right, with no trace of uncertainty— unlike the touches she had felt before with her previous lovers. As if just doing things for the sake of it. No, with him, she felt seen and appreciated. Like he was invested, like he was experiencing her, not just looking. She felt the tenderness with which his lips traced her skin, as he had craved her, yearned for her as she had yearned for this…something so real, it tasted nothing like all the realities she had ever known.

His lips measured her through her skin till her breasts, stopping for her buds. And she felt like they should have been on wet grass, underneath jasmine blooms on a full moon night, be the inspiration for the poets who could make the ink and paper make love. He paid attention to each of her buds, until they were erect with need, like the wetness between her thighs, it was almost uncomfortable, added to his warmth. 

His fingers never felt intrusive, instead, they were like the guests her walls had been waiting for all day. They slid in through a smooth motion, and her walls clamped around his digits as they rubbed through her essence and her fluttering walls, delving deeper, bending just at the right angle and meeting her eyes the moment they pressed against the sweet spot that made electricity run through her veins. 

If this was a dream, then perhaps it was the universe’s twisted way to compensate her. For (Y/N) never felt so loved, never felt such intense attention, like he was studying her to be a devotee, not a puppeteer. But wasn’t he one already? Moving her as he wished, parting her legs, digging his fingers deeper—knuckles buried into her whispering wetness until she sprung into a violent bloom, shuddering, moaning into his mouth, then his thumb as it entered her mouth and sat on her tongue. 

His parting kiss was sweeter than the dreams of lavender fields. Her eyes were already closing when she felt him untangling himself from her arms. The separation scratched her painfully, but the pull of slumber was so deep, the dreams were so sweet…

The digital columns on her computer screen stared at her. The dreams were turning vivid. Every night, she would feel him, touch him. Experience a strange burn that felt like a cremation of her soul. It was ironic, how the filthy acts felt like purification. If the dreams were her prison, she would be a willing prisoner. He was her night jasmine. Haunting her all day but letting her experience him only under the veil of the night. The darkness was their shroud of secrecy and he was the fire that consumed her. Burned her desires, put her heart and body on fire and consumed parts of her soul.

“What are you doing?”

(Y/N) flinched at the familiar cold voice. Of course, her boss had to come at the time she was zoned out.

“Uh, completing the table?”

“Yeah, I can see that. Technology hasn’t reached the level of completing by itself, so you must work on it. Like a regular employee, you know. Or do you think you are entitled to free money?”

This asshole…

“No, Mr Rick, I am not. I will take care of it.”

The man squared his shoulders, lips curling into a snarl.

“I need it done by today itself.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but one tilt of his head made it clear that it was either this or her job. Well, rent was expensive in the city.

“I will complete it, Sir.”

His lips turned up into a cold smile “Thank you miss (L/N)”

And with him, went away her night’s sleep. She won’t be going home at all, it seemed. But there was still some hope if she started now. With a sigh and popping some gum into her mouth, she straightened up in her chair and cracked her neck. 

Back to work.

By lunchtime, she could see light at the end of the tunnel. But she needed her dose of caffeine and some food in her stomach too. It was a pleasant break away from the headache-inducing work. She hated the monotonous computer screen, something in her felt repulsed by it. But it paid for her expenses so…

At least her colleague’s rambling was far not as bad. Not that (Y/N) ever was truly invested in small talk. The question she had almost never concerned the weather, was…’Why’. Why were they doing what they were doing? Why were things like this, or that? Was the true purpose of existence only to work, and go home? Be born, study, work, reproduce, work, die and then? Repeat? It felt like a factory, a prison to her. Sure, there were things to marvel at and entertain but that was it. They were small dopamine dosages. 

But recently, other than the toe-curling hot sleep paralysis demon haunting her, something else had been on her mind. One of her colleagues basically vanished. He was arrested and then? Nobody seemed to even care. Nobody spoke of him after that day.

“Do you have any news of Brad?”

Her colleague frowned at that.

“Brad?”

“Yes, like, our colleague, Brad.” (Y/N)  stated the obvious.

“Who's Brad?”

—---

Was she seriously losing it?

Was she past a sitting with a psychologist?

Was her place in some institution?

At this point, all the cubicles seemed identical.

Focus. Focus on the numbers.

She remembered Brad’s cubicle number. There had been no new employee who had joined in the department recently so that cubicle should be empty. Thoughts raced in her mind as (Y/N) rushed towards Brad’s cubicle. Reaching his cubicle, she walked into it, expecting it to be empty but, there was already another man sitting there. He had Brad’s hair and his eyes but…he wasn’t Brad. No, not at all.

“Oh, hi, (Y/N), how may I help you?”

“Uh, where’s—”

Wait, how did he know her name?

“How do you know my name?”

The man chuckled incredulously “What do you mean, we’ve been working in the same department for months.”

“Wh–What?”

She took a step back when he rose from his seat “Are you alright? You seem pale.”

“Wh–where’s Brad?”

The man had no trace of recognition “Who Brad? (Y/N) you are sweating…”

She gulped and shook her head. She felt nauseous. “No, I’m good…Need some sleep I guess.”

“You do not look well, why don’t you take the day off?”

She shook her head, managing a shaky smile “I’m good, thanks.”

She rushed back to her cubicle, avoiding the curious glances of her co-workers.

—---

The empty rows of dark cubicles along with the dull lighting above had an eerie effect on the visual of the workspace. The otherwise silent space echoed with the subtle sound of (Y/N) typing away on her computer. It was already one in the morning, and her home was a thirty-minute drive away. Oh, and the best part was, she wasn’t even close to being done yet. 

At this point, she was losing focus on the task. Whatever had happened in the office had left her shocked. 

Was she losing it?

How come no one remembered Brad? What was wrong with people? She even checked the entry data, there was no trace of Brad. Not anywhere. Like he never existed.

There was either something very, very wrong with her…

Or there was something very, very wrong with the world.

Rubbing her palm over her face, (Y/N) leaned away from the computer. The sickly white body, the keyboard, and the stagnant screen made her uneasy. Standing up, (Y/N) stretched her limbs a bit. She needed to wash her face, or she would drop dead.

It was wonderful how a few splashes of cool water could make someone feel so much better, or refreshed. (Y/N) felt much lighter. Though she was still disturbed regarding whatever was going on with the case of Brad and—

“Shit!”

She rushed to her screen, which was blank, other than one green dot blinking. She was stupid enough to not have even saved hours worth of work and they were probably gone!

“Fuck, go back!” No matter how hard she pressed the ‘ESC’ button, the screen remained black with one glowing green dot blinking. She felt mocked by it. 

Long day?

The green dot typed out. Her mind instantly took her back to the nightmarish evening a few days ago.

“No, no, no…” she pressed to switch the device off. But nothing happened.

Stop trying to switch it off. Listen to me. Do not mention Brad. They will know.

“What the hell is happening?” her voice cracked at this point. 

The events until now made no sense, she could not grasp but it felt almost like a computer glitch. A glitch in reality. Taking several steps back, she rushed to collect her things. 

Fuck it!

She was out of this place.

—---

(Y/N) had already prepared another resume. She was getting fired, there was no way that her boss would believe her, or give her another chance. She had spent the remaining hours drafting a new resume for herself. 

“(Y/N), Mr Rick wants the report submitted to his table.” One of her colleagues informed her as soon as she entered the office. 

Of course…

Nodding at her, (Y/N) made her way into her cubicle. Looking at the computer, everything that had happened a few hours before seemed like a dream. The device was switched off, even if she distinctly remembered fleeing from her office without switching the computer off. After starring contest with the device for what felt like hours, she gathered her courage and switched it on. She was being fired anyway, so who cared? The creepy computer would be left behind. Like this shitty place.

Perhaps a less stressful job would be better for her. Maybe a barista? A receptionist? No, they won’t pay her—

It felt like the screen was staring back at her. The columns that should have been empty due to what had happened last night…were filled?

(Y/N) checked it, several times, again, and again. No mistakes. The table was completed without any correction required. At least there was nothing her eyes could catch.

“(Y/N), I think I asked the files to be submitted!”

She jumped at the voice, Mr Rick stood at the entrance of her cubicle. At her stunned silence, he rolled his eyes and moved towards the computer, pushing her away. It was his turn to be stunned.

“It’s...completed.” 

“Yes, it is” (Y/N) added, still in disbelief.

—----

It was raining again. As the droplets descended in a rush, mingling into the flowing water, (Y/N) sat by her window, eyes on the glass despite the obscured view, only flashes of blue, green and red remained visible with the street and traffic beneath. It was late, but she refused to fall asleep. Instead, lighting up a cigarette, she leaned against the cushioned surface of her couch. As the cigarette stick hung from her mouth, she let her mind wander off, counting all the bizarre events that had followed her in the last few weeks.

At first, she thought that it all started ever since her…dreams but, then, she realised that she had been having those dreams for months.

It may not be her sleep paralysis demon. Unless…

(Y/N) sat up, realising that it all began after she started to… acknowledge him, interact with this…thing, this man, whatever or whoever he was. He was a dream, of course, he was, but he felt so real, and the recent events turned it more difficult for her to decipher what was real, and what wasn’t. She glanced at her computer. (Y/N) had not plugged that device in since that evening. The television wasn’t working, the weather was turning worse and sleep had turned into an experiment for her. 

She sat by the window, exhaling the fumes, inhaling and exhaling. Thinking, watching…Thinking…

Turned out, she did fall asleep. But there was no trace of the man this time. She woke up, drooling, with the sun rays falling over her eyes, disrupting the blissful slumber she was granted after a trying week. The cigarette was only half-finished, but extinguished and kept safely on the ashtray. She did not even remember doing that. But then again, she did not remember falling asleep either. 

—-----

The day at work had been particularly draining. Though on the streets, passing through the crowds, or even silent alleys, she thought she saw him—the man who haunted her dreams and her mind like some life-altering enigma. But every time she would turn around, he would be gone, as if he were nothing but a wisp of her imagination. 

One night without a sight or touch of his and this is what she was reduced to? Her mind bringing him up in random public places? Just out of reach, out of sight, driving her mad.

Oh, wasn’t she already mad, though? 

(Y/N) scoffed at herself. Her pathetic self, unable to build any real relationship, unable to accept what was being given to her, searching for something event she did not know or could name. Just searching, like a lunatic. Waiting, for what? For whom?

She was tormented and she did not even know the source, the cause, the end of the road. Heck, she did not even know the road.

All that was left was to accept what she saw. All that was left, after a long, tiring day of meaningless toil was to fall on the comfort of her bed, be thankful that she at least had that.

.

He returned this time. When she wasn't expecting him to. She wanted to laugh at herself. Like a silly schoolgirl, her heart leapt at the sight of the familiar dark coat. She felt underdressed in front of him. Laying there, in nothing but her bedclothes. But something told her that he appreciated this.

“Did you miss me?”

All thoughts evaporated, there was no doubt left when his touch felt so warm, so real, his hand sprawled over her thighs, the comforter long tossed away while he spread apart her legs, A delicious smirk curled his lips at the absence of any undergarment. An answer to his question. She could not wait. She missed him. She missed him like water and air. Cupping his cheeks, (Y/N), pulled him into a kiss—desperate to feel his lips, desperate for the same awakening feeling his touch ignited. 

And he followed gladly, pulling her closer, hand slithering on the back of her neck as he pulled her into a sitting position flushed against him. And she wish they were closer. Skin to skin, soul to soul. Melting into one another. 

But it did feel like milk and honey when his lips descended to her neck, her heaving chest, over her stomach until they reached her womanhood. He was a man starving—why else would he put her legs over his shoulder? Even through the layers of clothing, she could feel the strength they carried while his lips explored her dewy folds. He made her cry out and twist, tug at his hair and see the dancing stars right in front of her eyes. And yet she wanted more. Needed more.

When he faced her again, lips glistening, smelling like her desire, she knew she was an addict, even though it was his eyes that gleamed with a promise to wreck her the sweetest way possible. 

“Open your mouth”

His voice was a siren’s call and she was a willing sailor. Dreamy eyes looked up to him as if she were the poet, and he, the moon. Perhaps he was the moon. The way he glowed, draping himself in a black attire. For him, she could be a poet. For him, she could be a sailor, it meant seeing him one more time.

She opened her mouth, a twinge of uncertainty, though, still rang somewhere in her brain. He recognised it, she could see his eyes soften.

“What are you?” 

She was breathless when his fingers danced along her opening once more like the tides soaring up—-high, higher and higher until they crashed—tremors shook her form, as she realised what it was to be loved the right way between the sheets. 

“I am what you have been searching for.” 

He replied moments before dipping to fuse his lips with hers once more—a perfect fit where she could taste his tongue and her essence. She found a home in his arms, the heat in his eyes had kept her warm through the cold reality.

“But aren’t even real.” Her tears came in silence while her body still savoured the pleasure.

“Oh, honey…only if you try to know…”

—----

His words echoed every now and then in her mind, all through the day while she waited for the night. He would not visit her dreams every night though, and it made her crave him more. Even if she saw the devotion in his eyes, she felt like he was the deity, and she was the devotee…offering herself to him every night. 

He was the night jasmine, blooming at the darkest hours of the night, and just dawn would kiss the sky, he would be gone, the blooms falling on the soil, spreading essence until the soil smelled like the flowers. He haunted her similarly—- she could feel the ghost of his touches when he was gone, the finger in her mouth, against her fluttering walls, the warm and folds—it was like his essence was fused with hers, like he left something of him behind every time. 

She had other dreams too—snippets, images, someone speaking, not him, someone else. Saying things that went over her head.

‘Integral Anomaly’ 

Something that came up often, but she had no idea what or who it was. A deviation in the system? But that would be something to do with computers. The dreams never made sense. 

But (Y/N) relied on her experience, and if experience had taught her anything, it was that her dreams had seldom been ‘meaningless’. What they meant, she had no idea. But they had to mean something. Even the attractive sleep demon. Well…she did not like to ponder much on his existence.

In his dark eyes, she could drown. Give up this life and live in his realm. It was a fleeting thought that would be followed by dreamy sighs, but (Y/N) knew, that ultimately, he was just a dream. A dream that felt disturbingly more real than anything ‘real’ she had ever known. But that was it. He ‘felt’ real, but there was no way that he was, real (Right?).

“What do I call you?”

 She asked one night, feeling particularly vulnerable at the realisation that he had never taken off a single layer of his clothing, while he had her sprawled for him, all bare, twisting and arching as he played her like his favourite instrument, creating a symphony, eliciting the most sinful of sounds and words. 

She panted with his fingers buried deep inside her, thumb pressing on her engorged clit just the right way, her dress bunched up, showing parts of her breasts. He did not answer her immediately, instead, fit her lips with his and pressed his fingers harder on that sweet spot that made her mewl out for him.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she had a feeling that this was no dream, that he was real. Somehow, anyhow, but he was. But if she were to believe and acknowledge that, nothing else made sense. It threatened her sanity.

“Neo.”

He finally replied, after tipping her through the edge, letting the pleasure crash on her like hungry waves while his thumb slipped into her mouth again. Somehow, this act made the whole experience more intense.

Her dazed, blinking eyes must have given away her confused state of mind, he smiled at that, kissing her forehead with the tenderness she had never known before him.

“That’s my name– Neo.”

Neo…

The name struck with her. Haunted her like his voice and touches. Every morning, she would wake up and look in the mirror, hoping to find a trace of him, any evidence that could tell her that he was real. That could break her out of the hypnotic effect he had on her. 

He was magnetic, addictive and she knew her ultimate demise. The very staircase that was spiralling down to an abyss of madness and she was descending it, doing nothing to stop herself.

How long had it been since she first acknowledged him?

(Y/N) could not remember that. 

A month, a week?

Weeks? Months?

How could she care about any of it with his face buried between her thighs? Tongue and lips fueling a fire that was consuming her in its slow, agonising flame. She wanted more, she wanted to scream out to him to undress and let her see him as he saw her—- all bare, vulnerable and exposed.

But how could she demand from a dream itself? A lucid dream, a piece of her imagination giving her what she had craved all her life. Her eyes fluttered closed when she came crashing through the flames, it licked her like it wanted her in ashes. And perhaps she would be turned into ashes under him. Nothing to complain though.

She felt his thumb over her lips again, a silent gesture, and like every time, she parted her lips— eyes closed, so trusting, a dream was a dream, and she could be and do anything in a dream world.

He wasn’t even—

It was a different feeling this time. Something cold and tiny that stuck to her tongue moments before his thumb pressed it further down.

(Y/N)’s heart dropped to her stomach with a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes in a snap, finding those dark eyes on hers already. The fear she had almost forgotten rushed back in her system with vengeance, she wanted to spit out whatever he had given her, it felt something like a pill. But she had gulped it down already, he made her gulp it down.

“It’s time to wake up (Y/N)...”

Spoke his honeyed voice.

And suddenly, it was freezing cold---everything convulsed in and around.

****

Phew! Completed this finally, the idea had been with me for a while and thanks to my mutuals for helping me with it. It's still unedited, please excuse the errors.

[silaswritesthings]

“All those stories about ghosts are really true…”

Summary: You were a wanderer at heart and the confines of your future marriage collided with the adventurous life you wished to lead. But all hope was not lost, you realised, when you met the wandering ghost of Kadaehara Kazuha on one fateful night.

Starring: Kaedahara Kazuha

Genre: Romance

Warnings: none

Author’s note: I was supposed to post this ages ago but I got stuck on trying to make it better (I failed), so- I decided to just post it as it is. I wrote it for one of my best friends' birthday (She loves Kazuha) so I hope she enjoys it and I hope you enjoy it too!! This is part of the Valentines special (yes, i really was supposed to share this a long time ago). Comments, reblogs and new followers are always welcome <3

Word count: 1.5K words

Closing your book, you stood up to draw the curtains and paused to gaze at the few stars that scattered themselves across the darkening sky. The life of a Princess was unremarkable, all you did were the things expected of you.

What was expected of you? To be beautiful, popular and married.

You sighed at the stars but they didn’t grant you any wishes, all they did was twinkle back. They have always filled you with a sense of wonder, and you did wonder about a lot of things; however, wondering did nothing to quench your curiosity of the world.

The man chosen to be your betrothed was… well, at least he was wealthy. It’s a half hearted compliment, in all honesty. You did want love, but not the love of someone who could only love you with money, objects and castles. You wanted someone who had the soul of a wanderer, a soul that would match with yours perfectly. Oh, you’d dream about this person so often that your heart broke when your parents announced that they had chosen someone who was not quite what you dreamed of.

Watching the castle attendants return to their quarters from the window, you decided it was time to sleep. You turned to your bedroom, soft candlelight brightened the four corners of your room and your bed was bathed in moonlight from the window. However, what really caught your attention was the small bundle of lilies tied together by a red ribbon on your bed. They looked freshly picked, their petals moist and twinkling like stars underneath the moonlight.

The next morning, you had asked one of your attendants if your betrothed had left any flowers for you but they only looked at you in surprise.

“My Lord has yet to return from the trip he left for a few days ago.”

“Oh.”

Upon further inquiry concerning the inspiration behind your questions, you simply laughed them off and changed the subject to the beautiful flower garden that you often gazed at from your window. The flower garden where there was not a single lily in sight.

——

You stared at the gardens being tended to, various people scurrying around and others watering or planting something. In your hands was a bottle of perfume you had received as a gift from your ‘lover’ but the gift felt less authentic compared to the lilies you had received a week earlier. You sprayed the perfume in the air, it was said to smell like spring and you wanted to test that.

“Ah, it does smell like spring.” You said thoughtfully, the scent slowly spreading around you.

Another voice chimed in, “What an odd thing it is to capture an entire season within a bottle of perfume.”

You jumped in surprise before turning to search your room, looking for the source of the voice. There was nobody there- did one of your attendants enter your room without you hearing it? Then where did they go? In the bathroom? With that thought, you walked with caution toward the door that led to your bathroom and opened it. The room was empty.

You turned to the windowsill, the sun peeked at you from the horizon as orange light filtered into your room. You could still hear the sound of people tending to the garden, and when your heart settled you realised you no longer had the bottle of perfume on your person.

You walked to the window to check if you had dropped it outside by accident, but there was no bottle in sight. You decided to check your room; but that thought was discarded by the gentle tug on your garments from behind you.

Heart racing, you turned slowly to the sight of your perfume bottle placed on the windowsill. Either someone (or something) placed it there or you’ve begun to lose your mind, because you were completely sure that it wasn’t there before.

Before you could fully wrap your mind around the situation, a knock sounded at your door causing your heart to skip. Heading toward the open window, planning to close it for the sun had already settled underneath the horizon, you gave the person on the other side of your door permission to enter.

It was an attendant with news of your fiance returning the following day, and how there would be a special dinner where you would dine with him. You acknowledged the news with an absent mind, your attention had been diverted to your mysterious occurrence and after a few days of no odd occurrences you had begun to forget what had happened.

This did not last very long.

It was a moonless night and you lay wide awake in your bed, staring at your ceiling that was lit by the reading light by your bedside.

The longer you spent in this castle, the more homesick you felt. Closing your eyes, you began to think of endless fields that surrounded your home. As nobles, your parents had owned various properties and land, to them it was a showcase of their extravagant financial background but for you? Those various places you would visit with them gave you leeway to explore your curiosities. Back with your parents, you did not spend more than a fortnight within the same four walls and there was always something new to explore.

At your fiance’s castle, everything had been dimmed down to a dull responsibility. Could you say you loved him? No, even the small spark of interest you had felt before coming here had all but been snuffed out along with the wonder that came from this castle when it was new to you. Now, you knew every room and every corner inside the castle, every single flower and every single weed outside of it. But, just outside the premises was a forest that you would have liked to explore if it wasn’t expected of you to remain as you are. You were basically a prisoner!! And now your nights grew longer and longer as sleep escaped you because of your homesickness and need for adventure.

You sighed and closed your eyes, once again forcing sleep upon yourself but your eyes snapped open at the sound of melodic, soft humming coming from the window that faced the garden.

You sat up slowly, eyes focused on the faint sliver-like glowing by the window which was different from the orange of your candle-light and that glowing light hummed into the dark of the night. The longer you listened, the more the humming sounded like distinguishable words.

“Sun and moon rejoice,” the light by the window begun to take the form of a person, he had pale blonde hair that shone like moonlight, “birds of dawn sing songs anew,” His eyes were a bold crimson and shimmered like stars, “far from home, with you.”

The humming came to a close and the ‘light’ at your window now looked like a person who seemed almost transparent. It was as if a gentle wind could blow him away into a million shiny particles.

“Did you enjoy the haiku?” He spoke, still facing the gardens from your window.

Gathering some courage, you answered, “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Your answer seemed to please him for he turned to you with a gentle smile. “My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, and I am glad to officially introduce myself to you.”

His manners and polite nature had drowned a majority of your inhibitions, so you introduced yourself to him

and spent the rest of the night reciting poetry and exchanging stories about yourselves till the sun rose again.

You spent every night for the next few weeks in the presence of the ghost in your room until a particular night when you mentioned your desire to see what was beyond the gates of the castle you resided in.

“I have left many times and I can assure you, words cannot describe the wonders of it.” Kazuha said. You were both seated by the COUCHES in your room.  “Would you like to see it for yourself?”

Your heart fluttered at the possibility, “How?”

And that is how you found yourself standing hand in hand with Kazuha in front of a lake in the forest. The surface of the water rippled around where lillies drifted slowly across it. The moon’s reflection danced over the lake, and a think layer of fog lingered around the water.

“You were right,” you began quietly, “words cannot describe this.” You wiggled your bare toes over the soft damp grass on the ground, you held your shoes in the hand that wasn’t locked with Kazuha’s.

The man in question spoke with a smile, “If I had known you would share my sentiments so much, I would’ve brought you here earlier.” You hummed in agreement, knowing a lifetime long of a wait was worth a few seconds of living this moment and every other moment you would spend with Kazuha from then on.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’ve been spending the past like hour looking at your page I love it sm! I have some questions :3 1. Does Rosie have a design in your au yet? I’d love to see her being actually super scary- 2. Do velvette and vox know how Val treats angel? 3. Where is angel’s brother. Just what is he doing in hell.

Just for you anon I have drawn Rosie incredibly quickly and she kind of looks like garbage but ive never drawn her before im so sorry

For any issues in this (a few I can already spot) I will be fixing when I work on her full body design 🙏 I like her original smile and hollow eyes but honestly sunken in eyes that are barely visible are a lot scarier to be so she gets that. Ive also considered making her blind but we’ll see if I go through with that (I would love to design her a really fancy white cane though… something with that umbrella it does things to me..)

As for Vox and Velvette, I don’t think Velvette is anywhere near as aware as Vox is. The majority of her knowledge is some horrible things have probably happened but she’s never seen it or explicitly gotten any confirmation her suspicions are true so she refrains from prying into it because it’s “not her problem” and finding out would make things more complicated for her image and work, though she absolutely does hat Valentino and is 100% okay with killing him and has discussed kicking him out with Vox multiple times, however they have yet to settle on this.

Vox is definitely aware of what Valentino does but doesn’t actively engage himself in it aside from very sparse talks with Angel on set that usually involves Angel becoming irritable or jittery in Vox’s presence. Vox does detest Valentino’s behaviour and treatment of Angel and will frequently roll his eyes at the mention of Angel since in his mind “its always something with him” and by now any complaints Valentino has about Angel get filtered out after so many years of hearing the most mundane things Valentino is upset about. (ie. Angel moving even though he didn’t live with Valentino to begin with) Even though he heavily disapproves of what Valentino does he still turns a blind eye to it and leaves Angel with little to no help, only ever giving him a few words of advice or a brief warning if Valentino is in a bad mood that day.

Velvette is also unaware of Vox and Valentino’s actual situation as well as basically everyone else. On the surface they come off as “friends with benefits” however Vox is in a (very loosely) similar situation to Angel. Valentino will make similar threats and statements to Vox as he does Angel and currently, Vox doesn’t realise that Valentino is exploiting him. As of now, he hasn’t processed “I don’t actually want to be doing this” or “I am uncomfortable in this situation”. He is still suffering the effects of an abusive work relationship since Valentino does still hit and yell at him, he just hasn’t processed the sexual aspect of what they do was pushed onto him unnaturally rather than him consenting to it openly. Hopefully this makes sense? If it doesn’t feel free to DM me about it or send in another ask and I can clarify more

Angel’s brother currently is still in the mafia and is mingling with crime as usual, however a decent few years ago he ended up gambling away +65% of the families earnings at Husk’s casino back when he was an overlord and ended getting himself stripped of all respect and ranking and is currently attempting to repay his family and work his way back up while trying not to get killed. He is also vaguely homophobic still but has become more tolerant of it after being around and meeting more people. He definitely doesn’t think its “natural” but he knows when to keep his mouth shut and will probably understand more about it someday. Not anytime soon though. He also hasn’t seen Angel for around 8-10 years now and by seen I really just mean yelled at him from across the street and then got a brick thrown at him probably

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Dystopian AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 21, word count 979

CW- Death by gunshot

The Earth was dead. Nothing grew apart from genetically modified mushrooms. The planet’s water was so toxic it had to be run through filters repeatedly to make it even halfway drinkable. The once beautiful green country Sirius lived in was now brown.

The HOB owned everything. They owned the food, water, phones, housing, and vehicles. Whatever you could buy. Somehow, it all led back to The HOB. 

Sirius lived in an old block of flats that had been converted to house hundreds of occupants. His room was a small pod. It was barely tall enough for him to sit up in. He did, however, have a shelf, which most people would kill for. It’s the little things in life. 

Most of the Earth's inhabitants, at least those with money, had bought passage on the gigantic space cruisers. They were cities in the skies, set to blast off into outer space to protect the elite from the Earth’s final days. 

Sirius had helped to build these beasts, but apparently, he wasn’t good enough to be part of the crew. So he spent most of his time in a local garage helping to fix the vehicles of the same posh prats that would be leaving.

One such vehicle had an issue that took him the entire day to sort out. He pulled out a stack of paper real-life paper from the air filter box. The customer brushed him off when he came for the vehicle, and Sirius was left with the papers. 

That night, he pored through the papers. He didn’t understand half of it, but he understood enough to know this was important. Sirius decided he needed to show a friend of his what he’d found.

“It’s, it’s, it’s amazing. Sirius, The HOB, has been hiding this from everyone. It’s not too late to save the Earth!” Marlene exclaimed as she typed some complicated equations into her computer. 

The door burst open, and armed guards flooded into the small space. They raised their guns and shot Marlene before she could even open her mouth. Sirius ran. 

He didn’t know how he got out of that room, but if he had to guess, they probably hadn’t expected him to move. 

Sirius had always been fast, and he used the adrenaline coursing through his veins to run as fast as he could. The men were right behind him, though. He dashed around a corner and found himself on the airfield with the space cruisers. 

He raced towards the nearest one and, with the knowledge only someone who’d helped build one, opened a secret hatch in its belly and wiggled into the cramped space. 

He gulped in air as he tried to catch his breath. The hull was so dense. He had no idea if the men were still there. He’d have to leave it for a few hours at least before he tried to escape. 

With the adrenaline wearing off and nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, he let the misery of Marlene’s death wash over him and focused on how it was his fault she was gone. The tears that fell from his eyes were thick and hot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. 

Suddenly, a horrendous booming rumble blasted his eardrums. It took him precious moments to realise the ship was about to launch. He tried in vain to open the hatch, but once the engines were engaged, all external doorways were locked down. 

The noise got louder, and he screamed as his eardrums tried hopelessly to block out the noise. He crushed his fists to them and felt the ship begin to rise. 

The booming got worse, and he was crushed into the floor as the behemoth gained speed. He felt his bones rattling and shaking as the ship fought against the Earth’s gravitational pull. 

After what felt like an eternity, everything stopped. He knew there would be the gentle thrum of the engines if his ears could actually pick up sounds anymore and that the ship wouldn’t feel like it was moving at all if his body wasn’t still trembling. 

He reached his hand above him and unlocked the internal hatch above him. He dragged himself up into the corridor. It was made for crew and never meant to be seen by the paying passengers. He wandered along it, having no idea what he was going to do. He didn’t have permission to be here, and he didn’t put it past some of the employees on here not to just expel him into the void. 

His ears popped as he walked down another corridor, and he regained some of his hearing just in time to catch the sound of boots walking towards the next bend ahead of him. He flew through the door beside him and waited for the footsteps to disappear. 

Sirius glanced around the room he was in. It appeared to be sleeping quarters, and compared to his tiny pod, it was huge. Two full-sized beds, built into the wall in bunks, a door that probably led to a washroom and two sets of drawers. 

Before he could plan his next move, the washroom door opened, and a tall shirtless man wrapped only in a towel, with beads of water running down his chest, walked out into the room. 

“Oh, hello. I didn’t think I had a bunkmate.” He reached out a hand. “I’m Remus.” Sirius tentatively took it and shook it. 

“Sirius,” He introduced himself. 

“Well, hello, Sirius. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Sirius forgot all about the previous hours of his life. He’d have to find a way back to Earth and figure out a way to get the information out that would save it so that Marlene’s death wouldn’t be meaningless. But right now, all he cared about was the man with the honey eyes beaming at him.     

[thetriumphantpanda]

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter 2)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, soft!Joel (He needs his own warning I swear), slow burn but nothing else

Authors Note / I AM SO OVERWHELMED FOR THE LOVE FOR CHAPTER ONE. I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed it so far. This fic is incredibly personal to me. I've not lost a husband or a boyfriend (apart from a typical breakup) but over the recent years I've lost several family members so grief is close to me. I hope you enjoy chapter two - if you like it then comments, reblogs and asks are always helpful - thanks as always for your support of my writing.

Main Masterlist / Series Masterlist

The sun is only starting to colour the sky when you wake that morning. It’s already warm in your bedroom, sheets pushed to one side and that’s when you realise why you’ve woken. Leg draped over the mound of sheets, hand resting on the empty side of the bed, head rested on the pillow that isn’t yours. Because it feels like him. You roll over onto your back and drape your arm over your eyes, letting the pressure bring you back to the real world. 

Once you were sure your breathing was somewhere close to normal, you push yourself off the bed and pad down the hallway to the bathroom. You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before you step under the spray. There’s something about this routine that helps ground you too. Counting the steps in your mind, ticking them off the to-do list. Shampoo hair. Done. Condition ends. Done. Scrub skin. Done. Brush teeth. Done.

By the time you’re setting the coffee to filter, you’ve already made it to sunrise, and you haven’t cried. It’s not healthy, and you know it, but this little competition with yourself helps, seeing how far you can make it through the day without thoughts so deep you have to pack yourself back to bed to try again tomorrow. 

Sitting on the bench on the front porch, it’s still quiet. The only people milling about the street were the people heading out on patrol, swapping with those who were coming back. No-one paid you much mind, sitting by yourself, mug cradled in your hands, which was the way you preferred it. You sat there, watching the sky changing colour as the sun rose in earnest, until you could see Maria in the distance, walking towards you. You gave her a small wave, taking your mug inside before grabbing what you needed. Ration cards. Yes. Keys. Yes. Shopping bag. Yes. 

“Good morning, honey.” She greets, kiss pressed to your cheek and arms pulling you into a hug. 

You wish her a good morning whilst you wrap your arms around her. She’d been your strength this past year. Never pushing you more than she thought you could take, always there when you needed her shoulder to cry on. She’d fed you for the first few months when you couldn’t bear to cook yourself. She truly was the best friend you’d ever had. 

You fell into a comfortable silence as you made your way to the market hall. At one point, you wouldn’t have let go of Maria’s arm, but now, you were happy to walk alongside her, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans. They were small steps, but steps in the right direction none-the-less. 

Halfway to the market hall, you could see Joel walking towards you from the other direction. Gun slung over his shoulder, he looks as though he’s just coming back from patrol. 

“Good mornin’, ladies,” He greets, “Going anywhere nice?” 

“Just to the market,” Maria replies, “Good patrol?” 

“Uneventful, so I guess you could say so,” He turns to you now, “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come by and sort that table out for you, I’m off tomorrow, how about I swing by then?” 

You smile and nod, “Of course, whenever is good for you.” 

He bids you both goodbye, he’d been up all night patrolling the walls and was ready to collapse, and when you began walking again, you could feel Maria’s eyes on you and the slight smirk on her mouth. It wasn’t until you were picking up a bowl of tomatoes that she decided to press the subject. 

“Joel making himself at home then?” 

“He just fixed one of my steps is all,” You replied, refusing to meet her eyes, “And then I asked him to build the table and chairs I wanted, and he agreed.” 

She pursed her lips and nodded, but the smirk was still across her lips, “I know what you’re thinking!” You exclaim, moving to walk down the aisle from her, she jogs to catch up, “It’s nothing Maria, and it’s shameful of you to suggest otherwise, it’s barely been a year.” 

“I’m sorry,” She speaks softly, taking hold of your arm, “That was wrong of me, what I really meant was that it’s nice that you’re getting back out there, making friends, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.” 

“No, I’m sorry for snapping,” You sigh, raking a hand through your hair. 

Maria presses a hand to your shoulder in comfort, “Let’s finish up here and get you home.” 

You nod and spend the rest of your time in the market in silence. You pick up more fresh strawberries, along with the rest of your essentials. Maria helps you drop everything in your kitchen when you return and gives you another strong hug, “I’m sorry honey, about earlier, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was assuming anything.” 

“It’s honestly fine Maria,” You reassured, putting the flour and honey you’d bought in one of your cupboards, “I’m trying,” You sighed, “Just trying to get back to living, and he was nice to me, I’m not interested in anything else but it sure would be nice to have another friend.” 

She nods in understanding, “You know, for the longest time I hated him,” She speaks quietly, “When I met Tommy, the stories he told me, the things they’d both done to get to where they were, I thought he was a terrible person, but the more time I’ve spent with him, I know deep down he has a good heart, I think he might be good for you,” She says, “As a friend, of course.” She adds finally. 

She leaves you then and suddenly it feels empty in your home. It always does. There is no sound of warm laughter, no sound of another pair of boots on the wooden floor. It’s the quiet that really tightens your chest these days. You look to the stairs; it would be so easy to climb them and collapse into bed right now. Ignore your feelings for a while. Maybe fall into a dreamless sleep and just try again tomorrow. Your feet are almost carrying you before you stop yourself. Not today, you think. It’s not going to get the better of you today. Your eyes fall to the fresh box of strawberries on your counter and you’re moving before you realise what you’re doing. 

An hour later, there’s a fresh strawberry pie cooling on the side. It was a frivolous use of your flour and butter ration, but the smell of the pastry reminds you of your mother. She always had some kind of fresh pie cooling on the side when you came home from school. Always served it with ice cream after dinner. Mark was always pragmatic with rations; he would have never let you use your feeble allowance on such a thing. You’d always used the flour for bread, butter was saved for making sandwiches, or spreading on the last slices on the weekend when you toasted it as a treat. 

Looking at the pie, you know you should feel silly, but you don’t. You feel proud of yourself. You can almost hear Mark’s voice in your head, he’d call you a silly girl, but he wouldn’t mean it. He’d chastise you for wasting your resources, but with a smile on his face. And then he would gladly take the slice you offered him. He’d kiss you with sugary lips and wipe the flour from your cheeks. Doing something he wouldn’t approve of was good, surely? Moving on, in a tiny step, to making your own life. 

There’s a feeling of guilt beneath you though, looking at the pie. You can’t bring yourself to cut a slice. Can’t bring yourself to feel the joy of the fruit in your mouth. How silly to think that one simple thing could fix you. You shake your head and leave it cooling on the side, curling into the couch, reading the same page of the same book you’ve had on the coffee table for months. 

*

Joel knocks on your door at 11am the next morning. He’s alone again, toolbox in hand, letting you know that he’s given Ellie to Maria and Tommy for the day, something about teaching her to ride horses. You lead him through the house and out back, leaving him to set himself up for the day. 

You make two cups of coffee, remembering he likes his black. You add a splash of milk to yours. The milk is so fresh from the cows on the farm that you must scoop a layer of cream off the top. You would normally scoop it off and eat it straight from the spoon, but there’s too much today, so you scoop it into a small glass, taking the mugs to the back porch where Joel is measuring up the wood. You set his mug down on the porch railing, taking your own in your hands as you sit down on the floor, back against the wall just to the left of the back door. 

The sun is shining again, warming your arms. You lean your head back and close your eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths. 

“You’re not gonna fall asleep on me, are you?” 

You open your eyes and look at him without moving your head, “Depends how exciting your conversation is going to be today.” You tease. 

He smiles and turns his attention back to sawing a piece of wood to size, “What did you do before all this?” 

You scoff a little, “I was about to start my second year at college, seems like a huge waste of fucking time now, the inheritance money wasted on half a degree.” 

“Well, that money would still be pretty useless now anyway,” He shrugs, “What did you study?” 

You have to hand it to him, he’s not wrong, “Drama,” You laugh, “Thought I was going to be a big star, already had that Oscars acceptance speech written up here.” You tap one of your temples. 

“Who were you going to thank?” 

“My parents mainly, although they were already both gone by the time I’d started studying, all the usuals, my agent, the academy, everyone who ever told me I couldn’t do it.” 

He chuckles, “You definitely had it all figured out.” 

A comfortable silence falls between you as you finish up your coffee. The wood of the decking is hard on your back and you shift uncomfortably, moaning a little in pain when you sit further to one side than the other, your lower back aching slightly, “You know you don’t have to sit out here with me if it’s uncomfortable right?” 

“I know,” You respond simply, “It’s just nice to have company.” 

“You don’t have other friends here?” He asks, hammering some nails into a piece of wood. 

You shake your head, “I guess I did when we first came here, but Mark was always the more likeable of us, people gravitated towards him and I guess when you spend a year wallowing in your own self-pity, people get pretty tired of telling you the same things over and over again in the hopes you’ll snap out of it.” 

He nods, “When I lost Sarah, I remember the overwhelming feeling of pointlessness,” He’s not looking at you as he’s speaking, focusing his attention on what you think is becoming a chair, “She’d been my whole life for so long that I just didn’t know what the point was without here, especially in this new world,” You hum in agreement, “And the fact that the healing is never linear, you know?” You hum again, “It’s been twenty years and I still have days where it’s overwhelming, but they become few and far between – I’ll never forget her, but remembering her gets easier, and I bet it will for you as well.” 

You lean your head back against the siding of your house, “You sound just like my therapist,” You point out, “She keeps telling me that I need to find something new to keep living for, but how do I do that was he was the only family I ever really had?” 

Joel stops for a moment, picking up his mug of coffee to drain it, “Family is a strange old thing,” He finally speaks, “Sure, Tommy is my brother, but Maria? Ellie? I found them; you’ve just got to find your new family.” 

“You’re a very wise man, Joel Miller.” 

“I think I’ve just lived a longer life, sweet pea.” 

The rest of the day continues in much the same way. Snippets of conversation, moments of silence, at one point you get up to water the plants as the midday sun makes way for the dip in temperature for the early afternoon. Joel is a fast but competent worker and as the sun is beginning to set, you have four new chairs dotted around the decking. 

“You wanna test them out?” He asked, dropping the last of his tools into the box. 

You nod, walking the one that’s closest to you, before gingerly setting yourself down on it as if it might collapse under you, “Come on, I’m a professional, have some faith in me.” Joel murmurs as he watches you slowly lower yourself onto it. 

He’s right, it doesn’t collapse. The way he’s built them mean there’s a slight slant to the backrest, meaning you can lean your head back and fully relax when you sit. You can’t deny that he’s done a fantastic job. 

“These are great Joel, thank you,” You say, standing back up, “Sit down, I’ve got something to say thank you.” 

You disappear into the kitchen as Joel lowers himself onto one of the chairs. He can’t deny he’s done a good job either, maybe he’ll have to make something similar for him and Ellie. He’s already trying to figure out where he might find the wood for his own project when you’re back on the decking with two plates in your hand. 

“Is that pie?” He asks as you hand him a plate. 

“It is indeed,” You confirm, sitting in the chair next to him with your own plate, “I made it yesterday in an attempt to avoid going to bed at 12pm, you’re lucky that there was cream on the milk too.” You smile, pointing a finger to the sliver of cream you’d divided onto each slice. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had anything like this,” He muses, sliding his fork through the end of his slice before eating it, “Jesus Christ, that’s good.” 

You chuckle, doing the same to your slice. You had to admit it was pretty good for a rudimentary baking job, the fruit was sweet and you’d managed to make the pastry pretty well too, “I actually can’t remember the last time I had anything like this either,” You take another bite, “I was thinking yesterday as I was making it that Mark would have been cross that I’d used our butter and flour ration to make pastry.” 

“I bet once he tried it though he would have forgiven you,” Joel replies, “No-one can be mad for long when it tastes this good.” 

You smile to yourself and spend the rest of the time it takes to eat in silence. You sit for a while before Joel’s hand comes into view, he gently takes the plate from your hand and stands, “I better go and get Ellie, she’s probably driving Tommy and Maria up the wall with questions,” He chuckles, “Let me wash these first though.” 

You follow him through to the kitchen and cut another slice of pie whilst he rinses the dishes, “Take this for Ellie,” You implore as he’s stood in your kitchen with his toolbox about to leave, “I bet she’s never had something like this.” 

He takes the plate gratefully in his other hand, “Listen, I don’t want to step over a line, but I was wonderin’ if you maybe wanted to join me for a drink sometime?”

Almost immediately there’s a sense of panic rising in your throat as you imagine what he’s asking for in your mind. If he’s asking you to The Tipsy Bison, you can already feel the eyes boring into you and the whispers from everyone else. If he’s asking you to go to his place for a drink does that mean he’s asking you on a date? You wring your hands together in front of you and you can tell he can sense your internal battle. 

“Just as a friend,” He reassures, “I hope you don’t mind but Tommy told me you don’t really like goin’ anywhere anymore, and well, I just don’t think it’s right, for you to feel like you have to stay here all the time, I promise I won’t let anythin’ bad happen to you, sweet pea.” 

You think back to the conversation with your therapist from last week. She’d ask you what you’d done to challenge yourself recently and you had nothing to offer her. She’s suggested that you really did need to try to start ‘reintegrating’ yourself back into the community, or there would come a time where you simply couldn’t. She’d challenged you to try going to the market on your own one day without Maria, or to go for a walk through the town on your own, just one thing before you met her next that would push you out of your comfort zone and make you realise that you could do it. 

“Okay,” You agree, “But if something bad does happen, you’re taking the blame, alright?” 

“If I had a free hand, I would cross my heart,” He smiles, “How about tomorrow night?” 

Tomorrow night. Not quite enough time to convince yourself it was a bad idea and hide yourself away. The sooner you went, the sooner it would be over, so you nod in agreement. Joel arranges to drop by at six and pick you up and then he was gone, and your house yet again felt as empty as always. It was getting dark outside, an acceptable time to call it a night and crawl into bed.  

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