#i usually do like a pointe piece and a tap piece every year for the second smaller show my univeristy puts on that's student choreographed

[mashmouths]

Oh sick you dance? What kinda dance do you do? :)

i've trained in ballet for 19ish years, in tap for i think 18ish years, in jazz for probably 16ish years, and i've taken classes in hip hop, raqs sharqi, ballet foklorico and west african dance in the last couple of years!! oh wait also contemporary and modern (but neither of my studios really did lyrical) and also also musical theater both through my studio and through my high school :) sorry for the resume lol

in the show i'm in right now i'm doing like 2 contemporary pieces (one is more soft movement and the other is really gestural and conceptual), a contemporary/foklorico mix (we have the big super full skirts and rebozos and i'm doing some stompy footwork in character shoes at the end!!), a jazzy kind of hip hop funky? piece? (it's to a couple jungle songs, idk if that's helpful to visualize), and a big company finale piece that's also kind of contemporary and hip hoppy :)

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

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[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna be your sin

for @subeddieweek day five with the prompts rimming and possessive steve

rated e | 2,473 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

If being friends with Steve was easy, being loved by him was a piece of cake.

It would probably scare someone else, the way Steve loved. He gave everything, more than what Eddie felt he deserved. It was overwhelming at times, to be the focal point of all of Steve’s affection.

He showed up at Eddie’s house with flowers before their first date. And their second. And for their third, he brought him homemade cookies.

Fucking homemade cookies.

And every single time, he acted like it brightened his day to be able to provide these things to Eddie. Like if he couldn’t bring him flowers or cookies or kiss him or hold him, he’d crumble into a million pieces and cease to exist.

It was easy to love him back, too.

To play with his fingers in the car and lean his head on his shoulder, to get lost in the time they spent together until Wayne was opening the door to the trailer with his knowing smile and wave as Steve just waved back from his spot on the couch holding Eddie’s hand.

They weren’t stupid, though.

Their dates were usually places where two young guys could be caught hanging out without drawing suspicion, even if those two guys happened to be Eddie and Steve. If it wasn’t the diner or the bowling alley, or even the record store Steve had taken him to on their first date, they were in secret hiding spots around Hawkins, spending every moment they could giving in to temptation.

But sometimes they ventured outside their comfort zone.

Steve was Dustin’s chauffeur from Hellfire Club since his mom’s promotion that led her to working much later during the week.

They hadn’t exactly told anyone about what they were to each other, had barely even mentioned they were friends to anyone other than Robin, but Steve was insistent that no one would think anything if he just…hung out during Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t really have the heart to tell him that every single person in the room would be highly suspicious of anyone being allowed to stay and watch as Eddie had always been incredibly protective of their space and never let anyone watch who wasn’t inducted into Hellfire.

Steve sat in the corner of the room, only receiving a few concerned looks from the group at first. Most of the confusion was directed at Eddie.

When they took their usual five minute bathroom break, Gareth pulled him aside and questioned him.

“Dude. The hell.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Harrington? I know he’s Dustin’s second mom or whatever, but is it really necessary for him to be here? Doesn’t he have a job or something?” Gareth glanced over at Steve, who was looking back at both of them with a fire in his eyes.

Eddie ignored the way that look made him feel and crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Gareth.

“Isn’t the point of Hellfire to welcome the lost sheep? No judgment?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And wouldn’t you think it rude to assume Steve doesn’t deserve to have some friends?”

“But he-”

“Everything okay over here?” Steve’s voice was right next to Eddie’s ear, and his hand was on his hip, squeezing.

Eddie’s mouth snapped closed, eyes widening as he watched Gareth’s gaze drop to where Steve was touching him and back up to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, man. Just checking in on our friend, here,” Gareth gave Steve a fake smile before turning and walking away.

Steve’s hand didn’t drop and Eddie was certain that if he didn’t move in the next 10 seconds, they’d have a lot of explaining to do that Steve probably wasn’t ready for.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Gareth? My best friend for three years? He always bothers me, but it’s nothing like that.” Eddie tapped Steve’s hand as a reminder that he should probably move it, but he just tightened his grip. “Um, you okay?”

Steve’s breath was warm against his jaw as he leaned in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “I’m great, sweet boy.”

The reaction was instant. And really fucking inconvenient.

Hearing those words from Steve now, when he still had an hour of a campaign to run, with children making their way back to the table, was enough to make him call it all off.

Fuck Hellfire. He needed Steve to fuck him.

Steve patted his ass twice before walking away, smiling to himself as he went back to his seat to watch Eddie deal with this sudden need to have Steve.

And then he just…carried on. Like it was nothing to have Steve’s hand on him one minute, his voice against his ear, and then go back to being the big, bad DM the next. He was a pretty good actor, but even he had his limits when Steve’s eyes were on him.

Even he could tell he was a little off after the break, and the knowing looks from Gareth and confused looks from the rest of them just emphasized how much he needed to get his shit together. This was his best campaign ever, and he knew he needed to roll into Christmas break with a cliffhanger that made everyone desperate to get back.

Steve watched the clock, then looked at Eddie, watching him fondly, but with a certain hunger in his eyes that was nowhere near appropriate for others to see.

“And as you crawl your way under the fence, mud and sweat coating your skin, you see a faint light coming towards you from a distance. Your entire group freezes and waits to see if you’ve been found. You breathe slowly, just enough to not pass out. The light gets closer.” Eddie stands from his chair, leaning over the table to blow out the candle. “The candle goes out. A voice yells down to you. ‘Come at once or die.’”

Eddie sits back in his chair and folds his hand across his stomach, waiting for the table to catch up that he was done.

“That can’t be it!” Lucas yelled.

“Eddie, you said you weren’t gonna end it on a cliffhanger!” Mike pouted.

“I never said such a thing and if I ever did, you should’ve known I was lying.” Eddie stood again, folding his DM notes up and picking up his personal minifigures to store in his bag. “We’ll pick up the first week back in the new year. Everyone go home and enjoy Christmas because there’s a chance some of you may perish on your journey here.”

Everyone grumbled except for Gareth, who was oddly quiet as they all cleaned up their own character sheets and minifigures. He kept glancing between Steve and Eddie, brows furrowed, like if he concentrated hard enough, something would make more sense to him.

Steve stood as the older kids filed out, driving themselves home or hitching rides with each other. Nancy was already outside waiting for Mike and Lucas, so they rushed out of the room, barely saying goodbye.

Dustin didn’t seem to notice or care that Steve and Eddie were staring at each other, that Eddie’s hands were practically shaking with anticipation for what was coming. Hopefully, he would be.

“Oh, mom told me to tell you that she made extra of that casserole you like so you can bring some back home with you when you drop me off,” he said as he finished packing up his bag.

“Sounds good, dude,” Steve said, not taking his eyes from Eddie.

Eddie could feel his face flushing, wondered how he could get Steve out of there before he did something stupid like kiss him in front of their shared child.

“You guys gonna kill each other or make out?” Dustin asked, not really looking at either of them, standing by the door to leave. “If you’re done, I have a curfew to make whether my mom’s home or not.”

Steve tossed Dustin his keys. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute. And I’ll know if you try to start her. Passenger seat only.”

Dustin knew better than to argue when it came to Steve’s car, so he nodded once and booked it from the room.

The moment they heard the main door to the auditorium slam shut, Steve was on him, pushing him back in his seat and looming over him with a deadly smile.

Eddie’s cock was straining against his jeans, rubbing against the zipper in a way that felt too good for him to be in public, especially when he knew Steve wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Unbutton your pants.”

Steve’s tone was cool, but Eddie knew him well enough to hear how much he was struggling to maintain composure.

What had he done to make Steve want him like this? Now?

“Here?” Eddie asked, looking around the room.

Steve’s hand cupped his jaw and turned it back to face him.

“Here.”

Eddie knew when to be a brat and now was not it.

He unbuttoned his pants with shaking hands, letting his cock feel a single moment of relief before Steve’s grip around it was rough, nearly too hard to feel good.

“Pull them down.”

“Steve-”

“Now. Unless you wanna stop. You know what to say if you do.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to stop. He trusted Steve, he trusted that Steve would never put him in any danger, and if Steve felt safe enough to do this here and now, then Eddie could let him have what he needed.

Eddie tugged his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He ignored the twinge in his back at the uncomfortable angle, focusing on Steve’s eyes on him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watched Eddie fumble.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Eddie turned around, got on his knees.

“Lean forward.”

Eddie leaned forward.

Steve dropped to his knees and gripped Eddie’s hips. His nose brushed against the tail of his spine, breath leaving pinpricks of moisture behind. Or was that sweat? Had it gotten hotter in here?

“What if Dustin comes back in?”

“He won’t. He never has free access to my car.” Steve’s lips brushed against his skin, and Eddie realized just before it happened what Steve’s plan was.

Steve’s tongue trailed down the crack of his ass, hot and wet, spit mixing with the beginnings of sweat from his two hours of excitement. He’d showered that morning, but that morning was a long time ago.

He tried not to tense his body or pull away, but Steve noticed everything.

“Eds, color.” Steve was giving him enough space to think, to concentrate on an answer. They weren’t really playing in that space, but it was an easy way for Eddie to figure out if he actually wanted to keep going regardless of them taking on their roles or him floating into space.

“Um. Yellow,” he admitted quietly. He so rarely said anything besides green, and usually only when he was incredibly overwhelmed, so Steve immediately stood up and walked in front of him.

“What’s got you worried, love?” Steve cupped his face in his hands, making him forget momentarily that his bare ass was out for anyone to walk in and see.

“I’m not really clean? And, um, I don’t really know if I can get off with just that in only a few minutes,” Eddie didn’t break eye contact. He knew Steve liked when he looked at him while he talked through this stuff. It made him proud.

“Oh, sweet boy. I don’t need you to smell like roses to wanna get my mouth all over you,” Steve kissed his forehead. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can continue it later once you’ve showered. Or not at all. But I will say I had no intention of getting you off here.”

“But. You were gonna eat me out?”

“Yeah for a couple minutes. Get you worked up. Remind you that you belong to me, that you’re mine no matter who else gets to share your time.”

Steve was going to torture him, then. Why was that making him sweat more?

“You’re mine, baby. I get to make you feel good because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Green.”

“Relax, sweet boy. I’ve got you.”

Eddie knew he did, so he let his forehead fall, resting against his arms folded over the back of his fake throne. There was something to be said about being worshiped here, something about being on his knees while holding all the power, but he was already too distracted by Steve’s hands pulling his cheeks apart to lick at his entrance to care.

Steve was good with his mouth and it was all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his tongue circling him, pushing past his rim every few swipes and making him rush to stifle a moan.

Just when Eddie started to feel like he needed a hand on him, Steve’s tongue disappeared.

Eddie shivered.

Steve’s hand ran up and down his back, but no other touch came, no words of comfort.

Eddie could hear rolling thunder in the distance and remembered Wayne saying something about getting home before it was supposed to storm tonight.

Might be too late for that now.

He could blame Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away and tugged his pants up for him, nearly knocking him over in his haste to get them in place and buttoned.

“Be good for me, sweet boy. I want you to finish up here and get home before it starts raining. I’ll be there when I drop Dustin off to take care of you,” Steve kissed his temple and started walking away.

“Wait!” Eddie got off the chair and rushed over to Steve, doing his best to ignore the wet, slippery feeling that Steve left behind. “Wayne’s gonna be home by midnight. You won’t be long?”

Steve shook his head, coming back to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Just gotta run in and make sure he heats up his dinner or he’ll forget. I’ll head straight over after that. Promise.”

Eddie nodded and watched as Steve walked out the door.

Thunder rolled again, still far enough away for him to be able to get to his van and get home.

He rushed through shutting off the lights, only leaving the security light on for the janitor when they got there first thing in the morning, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running to his van.

It was dark, but Eddie could still see the heavy clouds rolling in.

He unlocked his van, hopped into the driver’s seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Raindrops fell on the windshield and Eddie felt like crying.

Day six: ao3 | tumblr

[elizais]

hi! can you do a little something like if dazai and reader knew each other in the PM and stay together and go to the agency? not like a fic thing more like a short little thing of all of the ada together! if not don't worry x

of course!! i love requests 🩷🩷

"remember this one?"

osamu dazai x fem!reader established relationship, reader was in PM with dazai, fluff warnings: ??

everyone knew of you and dazai both being from the port mafia, it was rarely brought up anymore. the agency enjoyed having a big group hang out every few weeks at someone's place, nothing over the top but it usually ended up in a couple of arguments over a board game. (monopoly ended up being banned for a year after kunikida and dazai got into a screaming match at yosano's place.)

and tonight, it was yours and osamu's turn to host. at some point during the work day, ranpo suggested unsolved cases online. nothing serious, just thefts. and that was the plan!

everyone was turning up in casual clothes, kunikida being the first to arrive. osamu greeting him at the door of a home he had certainly not expected to belong to dazai. how you two were together was also a mystery to the man. how you could put up with him? nobody knew.

when kunikida was admiring the interior, osamu read his mind and answered his unspoken question with, "when you are an executive in the mafia you get good savings, kunikida-kun!" he smiled.

"where is y/n?" kunikida asked dazai as he was getting kunikida a drink. "she's gone to grab ranpo, and to approve of whatever cases he wanted to solve. to make sure he doesn't get too out of hand for a relaxed evening."

kunikida and dazai simply watched tv as they waited for everyone else, dazai trying to gossip but kunikida shutting him down immediately. you and the others all walked in with a box in hand with the cases. the only person who couldn't make it being fukuzawa as he was meeting with a friend.

"osamu? can you get everyone drinks please?" you asked as he and kunikida walked towards you and your group. "of course, bella!" he smiled before asking everyone what they wanted and grabbing the snacks.

everyone made themselves at home as you and atsushi chose a case, a comfortable silence between the two of you as you flicked through the large thefts that were forgotten about years ago. "how is this one, y/n?" atsushi spoke as he shown you some papers conjoined with a paperclip. the summary being two unknown teens stealing miscellaneous objects from an office. roughly amounting to $2000 in damages.

not looking over it too thoroughly, "looks good!" you spoke as everyone else filtered into the living space.

although ranpo was the one who suggested it, he knew it would be you and him gossiping whilst everyone else racked their brains over why they would have done it. and that was just what had happened!

everyone else was trying to figure out who and why as it just seemed weird to steal stationary and other random items!

you and ranpo were sat on one of the couches talking as everyone else was sat in a circle on the floor in front of you with paperwork being passed around.

"so.. did you hear about-" ranpo begun, trying to gossip about the cafe's workers drama before getting cut off by osamu tapping you on the knee from where he sat on the floor with the others cross legged.

" 'donna! remember this??" he shown you the photo caught on cctv that was incredibly blurry whilst giggling. squinting, you took the piece of paper before letting out an "ohh! yeah, of course i do!" quiet enough so only osamu and ranpo would hear.

the photo showing an approximately 15 year old boy dressed in a suit with bandages over his eye, black dress pants with a white shirt and a black tie. next to him, a young girl close in age who was smiling and wearing a long black coat too big for her and also formally dressed, carrying a bunch of staplers.

ranpo didn't tell the rest of the group and neither did you two, laughing quietly as they got incredibly frustrated with how it seemed that the thieves done it just to confuse people (which is exactly why you both done it).

would you ever tell people that you both done these thefts as teens whenever you were bored? maybe. but tonight while everyone was stumped? not a chance.

a/n! the poll for bf!chuuya has been written but is in my drafts for tomorrow for those who voted for him. i will do more polls in the future but school has started again and homework/sports are heavy rn !!

reblogs are appreciated and covered in glitter

[randogirlo-fando-main]

Steven Hyde x Reader

Y'all I'm already halfway done with the next part so hopefully this is good

Word count:4.2k+ (Aka my longest piece yet)

Warnings, swearing, smoking, making out, slight sexual themes

Point Place, Wisconsin

April 5th, 1977

7:38pm

Location: Eric Forman's Basement

The sounds of Gilligan’s Island fill the basement from the television, smoke in the air as you all sit in the usual circle.

“It runs on water man! I swear you guys just don’t get it.” Hyde huffs, everyone kind of spacing out on their own highs.

“No we get it Hyde, we just also hear it every time we get in this damn circle.” You say, giggling at Donna playing with her hair.

“(Y/n), do you have any candy on you?” Fez clasps his hands together, begging for a yes.

“Of course Fez, someone has to keep you fed.” You throw him a pack of milk duds before throwing a second one to Kelso, already seeing the look in his eyes.

“Man (Y/n), if you weren’t always playing hard to get I’d totally do you.”

“It’s not playing hard to get if I don’t want you dumbass.” You punch his shoulder next to you as he dramatically leans back.

“That hurt!” You smile at him before flicking his nose in response.

“You know, if you’re not careful you’re gonna turn into Red.” Forman looks at you, nodding softly to himself.

“Actually I think your mom is who I want to be when I grow up. Minus the whore daughter and smart mouthed son.” Hyde lifts his arm for a high five to which you give him in pride.

“BURN!” Kelso yells, laughing uncontrollably despite the fact it wasn’t even that good of a burn, just the first time you’ve ever retaliated.

“She’s coming along nicely right? I’m teaching her everything I know.”

When you met the group, you were this quiet 13 year old that had just moved to Point Place from Louisiana. Donna had been the first to approach you, giving you a verbal invitation to join her for lunch. Ever since, you’ve been there for all the shenanigans they’ve done. Usually playing mom for the group to keep them from actually dying. You can safely say you were not there the last time Kelso fell off the water tower otherwise all the pain of a hospital trip and Eric walking in on his parents doing the nasty would’ve not been necessary. The last year, you’ve been tired of being so quiet and reserved around the general public. Hyde offered you an apprenticeship of zen, though you mostly smoke and talk.

“Only took 4 years but here she is, blossoming into a degenerate.” Donna grabs your shoulders like a proud mom, shaking you slightly. Almost instantly the door to the basement swings open, Jackie darting in and standing in front of the TV.

“Donna, (Y/n) are you two ready or not? I’ve been waiting next door listening to Bob sing.” She cringes before walking closer to the couch and pulling you both up by one arm.

“For such a tiny little thing you sure are strong.” You spat, tinge of annoyance in your voice.

“We’re supposed to be having girls night! Facials, manicures, the whole works and instead you’re down here with the boys doing god knows what.” She huffs tapping her foot.

“Relax Jackie, we just needed a circle session to prepare for this.” You say, dramatically gesturing between the girls and you.

“We better go before Jackie drags us out.” Donna gives Eric a kiss goodbye before us three go next door for a night at Donna’s.

There's a moment of silence in the basement, interrupted by Eric clearing his throat.

“Soo, my room has a perfect view of the girls’ sleepover.” Eric points upstairs before all the boys jump up from the couch to head upstairs, hoping to steal a peek at what the girls are doing.

“Donna, remind me to buy your dad pajama pants for Christmas.” You shiver recalling her dad in just a robe and underwear. You all three sit on Donna’s bed as Jackie ruffles through the bag she brought.

“Okay since I know whatever you’re using doesn’t work I brought face masks from home.” Donna pushes Jackie over on the bed as you look through the options. As you all apply the masks in silence, Donna puts music on since she was the first to finish hers.

“So (n/n), any guys? Maybe a secret lover?” Donna shimmies her shoulders in an over-the-top way causing a laugh from you as the blush spreads through your face.

“I mean, I haven’t actually had a crush since we were sophomores. There may be one developing though so we shall see.” You grab one of the stuffed animals Jackie brought, pulling it to your body to hide yourself.

“Well who is this contender? This is history making!” Jackie grabs your shoulders to look up at her.

“I wouldn’t say that-“

“You haven’t had a love life for over two years. I mean there was the one from the house party I brought you to but that was it and it was only one night.” You dig yourself more into the stuffed animal.

“You guys are gonna scream if I say though. Maybe not angry scream but definitely scream.” Their eyes widen as they look between each other and you.

“OH MY GOD IT’S HYDE!” Jackie screams, making you clamp a hand over her mouth.

“Shut the hell up please, we already know the boys are gonna try to sneak in or something like they always do.” You say in a hushed tone, brows furrowed and face bright red.

“Oh my god it is Hyde!” Donna says, grabbing your face with both hands.

“Tell us everything.” You nod as she lets go of you, about to spill all the little moments and stolen glances.

“Dude, what do you think they’re talking about?” Eric says, trying his hardest to hear through the walls.

“I don’t know but- OH JACKIE IS ABOUT TO KISS (Y/N) I REPEAT JACKIE IS ABOU- Oh she was just grabbing her by the shoulders.” Kelso had the binoculars, watching their every move.

“They’re probably talking about boys, or how attracted they are to each other. Look how pink (Y/n) is.” Fez says, eating the popsicle he grabbed from the basement.

“Wait, is- GUYS DONNA IS GONNA KISS (Y/N)!” They all scurry to get closer the window before seeing her pull away.

“Damn why do they keep doing that!?”

“Okay there’s definitely something going on. Jackie isn’t talking at all!”

“Whatever (L/n)'s saying must be really good.” Hyde looks at your side profile, taking in the pink settling through your face and how fast you're talking.

“I'm definitely not his type though, I mean you remember that biker chick. He almost ran away with her!" Donna shakes her head at you.

"Dude you're the only person he doesn't mess with."

"Because I'm the least annoying in the group." Jackie scoffs as you giggle at her.

"Oh please you run around playing mom, that's annoying enough."

"Hey I make it safe fun, you make it no fun. Constant 'don't do that Michael, you're all idiots' it's so annoying. News flash, they're still gonna do it! " She pulls your hair and before you can retaliate, Donna is pushing down to the bed.

"Okay then how about we go see what movies are on?" The redhead exclaims, dragging you both off her bed.

"What's up losers?" You say as you barge into the basement, grocery bags in hand.

"What did you bring?" A smirk comes across your face before putting all but one bag down.

"Just a little something for everyone. First, Fez here's some family size skittles." You present them dramatically before throwing the bag to the boy.

"Okay next we have Frito's, potato chips, Pringles, chocolate for Donna specifically because I love you, some Jackie approved soda since it's never here, and beer!" As everyone grabs at the pile of food, you stand there accomplished. You make your way to sit on the floor before Hyde gets up without a word and sits on the arm of the couch. Your brows furrow at him before he motions for you to sit down in his chair. You reluctantly sit, everyone freezing at the sight.

"Why are you in Hyde's chair?" Fez asks, popping a skittle in his mouth.

"More importantly, why did Hyde give up his chair?" Eric's eyes go wide as a lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Wa-" Before he could even finish a word, Donna is elbowing him in the side to shut him up.

"No way, they're doing it!" Kelso exclaims, pointing back and forth at you both. Hyde punches him in the shoulder, causing a pained 'ow' to come from the boy.

"Oh my god it's a damn chair. Hyde take your chair back." You stand up and move to the floor, arms crossed over your chest. Of course, the guys don't miss the pink flush to your cheeks.

"Nah, I'm good right here." Hyde replies shortly, taking a drink of his beer. As you and Hyde have a staring contest between you and the empty chair, the group is looking at you two like animals in a zoo.

"And here we have the female lioness, asserting her dominance as the male tries to feign attraction." Eric speaks, in a somewhat terrible accent.

"You know what, I'm going to spend time with someone who appreciates my presents and my presence." You smile as you stand up, grabbing the only item left in the grocery bag.

"Oh Mrs. Formannnn~" You yell, running up the stairs. A silence cuts through the basement as everyone stares at Hyde.

"You guys are morons." Hyde sighs, going back to his spot.

"You totally like her!" Jackie yells, a smile on her face.

"Whatever." He leans back, drinking his beer.

"Oh (Y/n) marry me and have my babies!" Fez says as Kelso pretends to kiss someone. Hyde gets up and punches them both in the shoulder before heading to his room. Once Donna hears his bedroom door close, she looks at everyone remaining in frustration.

"If you guys don't stop teasing those two, they will never get together! I mean come on we've seen this coming for a year now." Eric furrows his brows at the girl, confused.

"Wait, you knew they liked each other for a year and didn't tell me?"

"Eric, they've never admitted it. It's just obvious." Fez states, finishing the last of that big bag.

"Actually, we finally got (Y/n) to admit to it kind of. She tried to say it's not a crush yet."

"Well can't we just tell Hyde she likes him so he makes a move?" Kelso scoffs at Eric, making Eric slowly look at the dummy.

"Of course not!"

"That's not a bad idea, but we can't just tell him. After that, we have to figure out a way to get them alone together." Donna adds, trying to figure out how they can execute this plan.

You were currently driving to the Forman's to pick the girls up for a nice dinner which Jackie weirdly offered to pay for. Apparently Donna's parents have been at it again, so she needs an escape. As you park and get out you realize Forman isn't home. You go through the basement door rather loudly.

"Where's my girls?" You call out, waiting for a response. When there was none, you look around confused on their absence. You plop yourself on the couch assuming maybe they're late.

"What are you doing here?" You jump before turning around and seeing the curly headed boy you've grown accustomed to.

"Donna and Jackie were supposed to meet me here to go get dinner but I guess they're late. Or forgot?" You huff, crossing your arms across your chest.

"So that's why you're all dressed up." He decides to turn the tv on before sitting in his chair. You realize a slight shift in his energy as he stares off into the tv, not paying any attention to the show.

"You okay?" He glances over at you before looking back at screen, sighing.

"Yep. Wanna smoke?" You nod and move closer to the arm of the couch. Before long he's back to his usual self, albeit still quiet.

"I can't believe they had me wear a skirt just to not show up for our plans." You huff, leaning on the arm of the couch closer to him.

"Well you look good, we don't see you in skirts a lot." He opens the beer can he got from his hiding spot and took a sip. You feel the heat rise to your face and suddenly you can't stop staring at him.

"Thanks I guess, I usually have to be careful with what I wear around the two pervs. Ever since Kelso got a peek under my homecoming dress freshmen year, I said no short skirts ever again. And thank god Fez doesn't know where I live." He chuckles at that last part giving a nod in agreement.

"I don't think I've been to your place either." He states, looking back at you.

"I mean the only pro is smoking in my room, but that's because it's the attic. You'll have to come over sometime."

"Guess I do." Your eyes drift to his lips and you feel his hand lightly hold your knee.

"I think I want to kiss you." Hyde finally admits, rubbing circles into your knee.

"I think I want you to." He leans in as you close your eyes, feeling him press his lips to yours. You slowly move in sync, trying to lean in closer. His tongue glides against your lips and you part your lips, a sigh escaping you. His hand moves to the side of your neck, tilting your head up as he stands to move next to you on the couch. He pulls away, both of you slightly out of breath.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, you nod in response due to your words failing you. This time you lean in, bringing him into a passionate and deep kiss. He leans you back on the couch as he kisses down your jaw to your neck. A small moan escapes your lips when he lightly bites at the place your shoulder and neck meet, his hand lightly rubbing your exposed waist.

“Steven honey, dinner is ready!” You both quickly pull away from each other, praying she doesn’t come downstairs. Your breathing is jagged as you fix your skirt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hyde speaks up, looking at you with a smirk.

“Y-yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He kisses you one last time, knocking the wind out of you before heading upstairs. As if right on cue, Donna and Jackie come through the basement door.

“Hey, you ready for dinner?” Donna asks, both trying to hide the smiles on their faces.

“Where have you two been!? I’ve been waiting an hour.” They both smile at you, a knowing look on their faces.

“Oh shoot, we must have given you the wrong time! Well doesn’t matter, looks like you had fun.” As Jackie giggles to herself Donna sits next to you, wondering how you’re blushing even more.

“What are you t-talking about? I’ve just been sitting here.”

“Mhm, and what’s that on your neck?” Jackie grills, making your eyes widen. Your focus shifting between the two girls, staring at their smiling faces. A sigh of defeat leaves you.

“Damn I’m not getting out of this huh?” They drag you off the couch, heading out the door to finally get dinner.

The next day as you stood on the driveway of the Forman’s house you grew nervous to enter. Unfortunately your new buddy on your neck was barely budging with makeup, so the boys are going to see it. Deciding you’d rather not run into Kitty or Red, you head towards the basement door. As you enter, you quickly dart to the couch with a wave. You look up and see just Donna and Eric next to you, his eyes wide.

“Hey uh (Y/n), what’s going on?” His eyes dart between your neck and eyes, trying hard not to stare.

“Not much, I slept in thanks to that dinner last night. That food was crazy.” You look at Donna, reminiscing on crème brulée and crab Rangoon.

“N-not much, cool cool. Hey what’s on your neck there?” The smile on his face is slappable as you smile back.

“What’s it look like?” You test him, waiting for him to crack.

“It looks like a hickey, now who would be giving you a hickey?” He taps his finger against his chin before pointing at you.

“Could it be our very own Hyde?” Your eyes widen slightly before you instantly go back to your smile, this time leaning in a little to meet his face in front of Donna.

“Why don’t you ask him?” You push his forehead away from you hard, earning a groan from the skinny boy.

“You guys act like siblings more than Eric and Laurie.” Donna laughs, pulling her boyfriend back down on the couch before he could go ask Hyde. Like clockwork, Hyde comes downstairs, sodas in hand.

“I don’t know why I had to go get these.” He huffs, putting them on the table before realizing you’re here. He sits down on his chair, staring at you before giving a nod. You smile at him, leaning on the arm of the chair.

What you don’t see is Forman’s shit-eating grin because he was definitely right. Before he can say so however, Kelso and Jackie are barging in already arguing. It doesn’t take long for it to stop when Kelso sees you.

“Oh man Hyde that’s gotta burn!” He laughs, Jackie stepping on his foot.

“Kelso, shut up.” Hyde tries to keep his smirk down, but it slips easily.

“Come on just a few days ago you were offering her your chair and now she comes here with a hickey!” You’re bright red at this point, begging anyone with your eyes to get him to shut up.

“Kelso think about that very slowly. The day with the chair, remember anything else that happened? Like maybe yesterday?” Donna speaks like he’s a preschooler, which kind of works. You watch the wheels turn in his head, gears shifting as he looks between everyone before gasping.

“Oh my god, they’re doing it!” Kelso jumps earning a slap on the shoulder from Jackie.

“Kelso, we’re not doing it.” Hyde huffs, annoyed with all his friends.

“…yet.” You mumble, only Donna and Hyde hearing you.

“What so-“

“Kelso shut the hell up and sit down.” He sighs and sits on the arm of the couch closest to the chair Jackie is in.

“Where’s Fezzy boy?” You ask, not feeling the usual feeling of him staring.

“He should be here soon, something about his foster parents trying to get him baptized.” Eric speaks up, clearly amused. You giggle a little at the thought before resting your head in your hand propped on the couch arm.

“You okay?” Donna asks, getting Hyde’s attention. She rubs your shoulder a little for comfort as your head sinks into your hand.

“Just tired, you think Kitty would let me go sleep in Laurie’s room since she’s ‘scouting schools with a girlfriend’ or will Red stop her?” You smile lazily at Donna, earning a laugh from her.

“With that hickey, I think she’d stop you for questioning first.” You sigh and sit up straight, trying to wake up a little.

“Maybe circle time will wake you up.” Eric interjects, shaking a brown baggie.

“Dude, anyone tell you you have bug eyes?” You giggle and poke at Eric’s face.

“And she’s awake!” He grabs your finger and puts it down, chuckling at you.

“You know, I never saw you as a hickey girl (Y/n), thought you must’ve been a prude if you didn’t want me.” Both Hyde and Jackie punch either arm, causing Kelso to jerk back in his chair.

“You started the circle without me!?” Fez sits on the floor in front of you, pouting slightly.

“Sorry man, she was totally about to fall asleep.” Donna says, braiding a small section of your hair. You giggle and pat the boy in front of you’s head.

“(Y/n) come here.” Hyde says in a low tone, everyone else talking amongst themselves. You lean in closer to hear him.

“What’s up?” You try to look at his eyes through the sunglasses with no luck.

“Why don’t you come sit with me? Just so no one’s on the floor you know?” You blush as you look at him.

“A-are you sure?” He nods and you stand, tapping Fez to take your spot. Once he sits on the couch, you sit on the edge of Hyde’s lap. Soon, he’s pulling you into him, keeping an arm around your waist while the other lays on your knee. Your friends all stare but say nothing, not wanting to scare you off like last time. It would be hard though when all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his warm skin on yours and his breath fanning your neck.

“When did this happen?” Fez asks, mostly excited but slightly sad as well.

“Last night.” Hyde responds, causing a blush on your face as you look around the room for reactions.

“We’ll still have our weekly dinners, right (N/n)?” The boy on the couch asks you, making you rub his shoulder and smile.

“You mean us going to the candy store and spending way too much just to eat it all in one night? Yes fez, I’m not abandoning our sugar addiction.” He pumps his fist and is all smiles now.

“I didn’t know you and Fez were close?” Hyde asks you, rubbing your knee.

“Yeah, gotta make sure you boys aren’t tainting him. Specifically Kelso.” He nods and leaves a peck on your cheek.

“Okay I know we planned this but did we think about us having to be around it?” Jackie asks, huffing as kelso laughs.

“Jackie how many times have one of us walked in on you and Michael smacking on the couch?” You say, shuddering slightly at the memory.

“She’s got you there babe.” Kelso smiles at her before she slaps his shoulder.

“What so are you guys official? Or just messing around?” Donna asks, before realizing this conversation is missing something.

“You know what you come with me.” Donna points at you and ushers you both up the stairs.

“Donna why did we need to go upstairs for this?”

“Is that my favorite daughter?" you hear kitty in the other room and your eyes go wide. As you’re lead to the kitchen, kitty looks at you and instantly her smile is wider and she’s clapping and laughing.

“Finally you two happened! I’m assuming the plan worked?” Kitty asks Donna, receiving a nod from the redhead.

“Wait you had Mrs. kitty help you?”

“Just had her call Hyde up so we could be alone with you for the interrogation.” You all three sit at the dining table, kitty putting out cookies that you gladly take.

“So, are you two official?” Kitty asks, pushing the cookies closer to you.

“I mean I guess not? We didn’t talk about it. We were just watching tv while I waited for the girls, and he said he wanted to kiss me.” You take another cookie.

“But he’s practically all over you. At least as much as Hyde can be.” Donna says, looking at Kitty.

“He told her to share his chair so Fez could sit on the couch instead of the floor.” Kitty gasps and claps in excitement again.

“Honey he is smitten, he never cares about the boys’ comfort.” You think about it before the pink comes back to your face again today. If you keep blushing it may end up permanent.

“I mean I know he’s not good at talking about feelings, so I don’t wanna ask. I’d rather just let it happen.” You grab a third cookie before standing up, ready to head back downstairs.

Little did you know, Jackie was leading the interrogation downstairs, knowing the boys would mess it up somehow.

“So Hyde, are you gonna ask her out or what?” She asks, the boys looking between her and Hyde.

“I don’t know man.” He shrugs, causing Jackie to stand up.

“Well you gotta figure it out. If you actually like her you have to ask her. I know Michael and Eric told you how (Y/n) feels and I may not like her but she’s better company than you and I don’t want her all sad when we’re supposed to be talking about me!”

“She doesn’t seem sad to me.” You walk down the stairs, cookie still in hand.

“I’m back!” You move to sit with Hyde again, ignoring the empty spot Donna was in.

“Wait there’s cookies?” Fez and Kelso instantly stand up, dragging Jackie and Eric with them.

“Man they’re annoying.” Hyde sighs, stealing a pinch of cookie.

“Yep, we have pretty annoying friends. And family, apparently Kitty was in on it.” You look at him, leaning his head back over the chair. He looks back up at you and draws circles into your waist.

“Oh well, wanna go to the hub?” The look in his eyes is a tad newer, slight worry and suddenly you realize he’s asking you out.

“Little cliche but I’ll let it slide. Come on.” You stand from his lap and lean down to give him a kiss as you pull him up. The smile on your face says everything as he wraps his arm around you and lead you to the door.

[tsukimefuku]

these silly little memories ❖ nanami kento

summary: you reminisce about the past while chatting with ijichi and yuuji.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, soft/implied nanami x reader, fluff, poking fun at nanami's teenage bangs.

wc: 900

notes, etc: i wrote this to the sound of sunny (yorushika). this is a short little silly story that i had in my mind for a while before finally deciding on writing it, lol.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

You, Ijichi and Yuuji were seated silently on a table. All three were waiting for Nanami to meet up just so everybody could take a single car ride — he and Yuuji were going on a mission together, and you were going home after assisting Shoko on her duties for the day.

You could pay for a cab, but then again, why would you do that if you could slack off some more benefits from Jujutsu High?

"So, Ijichi..." You began, half-minded at this point. It had barely been a week since you arrived at Jujutsu High.

He quickly propped up, ready to answer absolutely any question you could have as a new sorcerer (and somebody else to order him around, it seemed).

Since you were new to Jujutsu High, had not been on a mission with Nanami up until this point, and Gojo was the one to bring you in, Ijichi figured you'd still have questions about the way things worked around there.

"Y-yes?"

"What is Nanami like here?" You questioned, out of the blue.

That caught both him and Yuuji by surprise, as both of them answered with a resounding eh?

You sighed.

"I mean, he was a very stern, serious teenager when I met him years ago. He looks a lot different, but is he?"

"Oh, you knew Nanamin?!" Yuuji asked, eager to pry some insight into his newly found mentor. 

You looked at him and smiled.

"Oh, yeah, I sure did. We met at Odate when he and Gojo saved me."

Ijichi's mind started to flash some things to him until he finally realized.

"Wait. That was you?!"

You blinked, confused.

"What do you mean, 'that was me?'"

"I-I..." Ijichi stuttered. "I was the one helping him in research during that mission."

"Oh... Oh! Ijichi, of course!" You exclaimed, much to his surprise, while you remembered decade-old bits and pieces. "It's good to finally be meeting you in person" you said, tapping his shoulder.

He smiled, slightly embarrassed for not having recognized your name when you introduced yourself a few days ago.

"So you knew him as a teenager too! Is he any different now?" You inquired, staring at Ijichi until he became a little uncomfortable.

"I-I think not. He was always the most responsible and m-mature one of us" Ijichi finally answered, and you smiled, reclining back on your chair. 

"Nanamin is very serious," Yuuji began, "and he usually lectures us when we have a blunder or are in the middle of a mission — or maybe it's just me that he lectures so much."

"No, it's every one..." Ijichi answered, involuntarily sighing.

"Oh, he still does that? The lecturing thing?" You asked. "I mean, maturity minus the bangs, right?" You chirped, chuckling softly. Ijichi covered his mouth, but you could see a faint smile forming.

Yuuji was at a loss.

"Bangs?" The boy asked earnestly.

"Oh, you're gonna love this!" You said, as you fished your wallet out of your pocket. From it, you took an old Polaroid picture that featured you, your best friend, your brother, Nanami and Gojo when they were on their mission in Odate. Then, you proceeded to hand the picture to Yuuji, and his eyes beamed, like he had discovered some very important piece of information instead of complete shenanigans.

"Those bangs were something. Once, when I had to patch his face up, his hair kept falling all over the bruises, it looked like someone had punched a blonde Gerard Way" you let out, scratching your head with a grin. Yuuji let out a laugh, and Ijichi seemed to scoff in an attempt to keep himself from laughing.

You noticed that.

"Oh, come on, Ijichi. You know it was funny and somewhat true. You can totally laugh about it with me, I won't tell if you don't, promise" you said, extending a pinkie finger in his direction.

He looked at your hand uncertain, but began lifting his own pinkie extended towards yours.

"What is the fun? I heard laughter" the already familiar voice resounded from behind the three of you.

Ijichi was paralyzed in stone, and you turned your face grinning mischievously at Nanami. Yuuji quickly tried hiding the picture, fumbling around and letting it fall to the ground.

"Hm?" Nanami got down to pick up the picture, and took a good look at it. "It seems that you have this ancient piece of history still in your possession."

"Of course. How else would I have a picture of 'bangs Nanami?'" You retorted, reaching for the picture while still seated.

He took a step back, pulling it away from you. 

"If I remember correctly, that morning you ate tamagoyaki inside miso soup, with salmon, also inside miso soup, all mashed up, and choked yourself," he said, lifting his gaze towards you, one brow up.

"Eh? T-that... did not h-happen at all!" It did.

"Wait, so you... Put your tamagoyaki inside your miso soup? Why?" Ijichi asked, slightly incredulous.

"And with mashed salmon too?!" Yuuji chimed in, also kind of aghast.

"Oh, shut up, the both of you!"

You crossed your arms over your chest.

"I just don't really care how I eat my food!"

"Clearly" Nanami noted. "She also mixes anything she has available to eat into a desecrated version of the original food. It's unsightly" he complemented, before handing the picture back to you.

You sighed, amusedly defeated, saying, "well, you have changed. Now you poke me back when I poke fun at you."

"I'm unaware of such a thing," Nanami replied, pushing his glasses into position with one hand, using the opportunity to cover up a discreet smile with his hand over his face.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Alfons vs Roger event (Alfons end)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Alfons: Now then-

Roger: Let’s get this over with. Oh right, we gotta be “friendly” today, don’t we? Then let’s be good boys and work together. Here we go.

Kidnapper: Wah!

Roger swiftly gets behind the man and pins his arms behind his back.

No matter how much he struggles, he can’t escape Roger’s strong arms.

Alfons: I’m disgusted by the fact that I have to fight with you…

Alfons bit down on a black leather glove, removed it, and touched his nape with his fingertips. 

Alfons: But more importantly… I hate people who would do things such as throwing a lady’s life away for money.

Alfons then threw a piece of trash nearby out the window.

Alfons: Look, is it alright that your precious money’s flying away?

Kidnapper: Ah, ah…! How dare you throw out my money!

(Huh?)

As the kidnapper said that, he jumped out the second floor window after a piece of trash.

Roger: So that guy saw trash as money in your illusion?

Alfons: Yes. Also, there’s a large garbage disposal site nearby. There’s a big, big pit there, and once you fall in, you will not be able to crawl out.

Roger: Haha, you still got great taste as usual. Well, if you can die surrounded by money, that’s how you’ll wanna go. Kate, sorry for tricking you.

Kate: It’s fine, you guys gave me clear signals and I knew you would come to help.

Roger: I’d like to have watched you struggle for a bit longer, but this guy here.

Alfons: I’ve been under a lot of stress as a result of having to be friendly with Roger for the entire day. I should have punched him 2 or 3 times to relieve it.

I understood what he meant under that shameless lie.

Alfons tried to help me as quickly as possible.

Roger: So, little lady. I think it’s about time we heard how many points we have.

Kate: You’re right. Then I’ll announce the results. For the total number of points— Both Alfons and Roger scored 100 points, so it’s a tie.

Alfons and Roger: …

Roger: Pfft haha. Is it because we did a good job fighting together in the end?

Kate: Yes.

Alfons: An absurdity, but a funny one like Miss Kate.

Roger: Al.

Roger pinched Alfons’ nose.

Alfons furrowed his brows after roughly shaking him off.

Alfons: ……What? You couldn’t possibly be saying “That’s minus one point. I’ve lost.”

Roger: No way. I just got carried away with the fighting… You were originally gonna give Alfons the chocolates, weren’t you, little lady? I’m giving up.

Kate: Roger…

Alfons: That’s something about you that I really don’t like.

Roger: Pfft haha. I don’t hate you. Never have. Well, I’m leaving. Gonna go pester them for the medicine storage in the basement.

Seemed like Roger forgot he was even part of a contest and left.

Alfons: That glasses-wearing egoist. I’d like if he fell down the stairs and hit his head.

Kate: I like this.

Alfons: Huh? What is this? Are you shamelessly exposing your affair? Since when did you start leading men on?

Kate: I’m not. I was talking about your relationship with Roger.

Alfons: What do you mean?

Kate: You’re more childish when you’re with Roger. I think that’s when you’re acting like your true self. That’s why I like your relationship.

Alfons: …

Kate: Ah, but I can’t help but feel a bit jealous when I think about it…

Alfons: Aha! You would like to see my true self? Then here you go.

Kate: Huh? Kyaa…

He pushes me down onto the sofa.

Pinning me down, Alfons’ taps on my lips with a finger.

Alfons: Why not give me your sweetheart chocolates? Is this a part of your teasing?

Kate: Well… I’m sorry, Alfons. I was anxious…

Alfons: Hmm, anxious?

Kate: I had heard rumors about you receiving a lot of chocolate every year. So I thought that you wouldn’t want mine.

Alfons: You’re a dumb one, aren’t you? Of course I’d want it from my “lover”.

Kate: Alfons…

Alfons: The fact that you can’t understand such a simple thing has me sulking. Please make me feel better. Until I’m in a better mood, I won’t be able to do all the naughty things you love.

Kate: I d-don’t want to do that stuff.

(Though there were some interesting moments during the contest)

Besides, I really do want Alfons to enjoy himself.

I don’t care if he ridicules or teases me, I want him to spend each moment with a smile.

Kate: Understood. Then I’ll do all I can to put you back in a good mood.

I sat up on the sofa and took out a piece of chocolate from the bag I kept close.

Alfons: What will you do for me?

Kate: I put all my love into these sweetheart chocolates.

Box of chocolates in hand, I shouted out.

Kate: Alfons, I like you a lot!

Alfons: Hehe, that was unexpected… I want to hear more.

Kate: Alfons, I like you a lot…

Alfons: Good, good. Once more, with spirit.

Kate: Alfons~~! I like you a lot~~!

Alfons: Pfft, ahahaha! You…Hehe, you look like a raving fool.

Kate: Hehe…you’re right. Geez.

Alfons: Okay, I forgive you. I’m in a good mood now so let’s do something naughty. How about we play with the chocolate?

Alfons’ hand went to the back of my head and our lips drew closer.

Kate: We can’t do that here. It’s another lord’s mansion…

Alfons: No one will think of your moans as anything but a lady’s illicit affair.

Kate: It’s still not a good idea…

Alfons: You’re so stingy, Miss Kate. Well, I thought you would say something like that, so I’ve already arranged for a carriage to take us home.

(Huh?)

Alfons: So let me take as much of you and the chocolates in as I can. 

[ttheatre-trashh]

ao3 is down but here’s my last minute @rtcpickyourpoison thing!!!!!

Noel, karaoke night (except I lowkey completely forgot about that) ^_^

Noel sat in a circle with his fellow choir members, plus Tammy and Ezra, as Penny had insisted. Tonight was the bi-weekly choir movie and karaoke night, organized by Ocean, of course.

Today’s first song was bohemian rhapsody, and ocean had taken it upon herself to teach everybody the harmonies.  As she went around the circle dividing the group into smaller sections, Noel noticed Savannah curling up on the couch, prepared to watch the chaos unfold, phone ready to record. 

She shot him a mocking look, because he was seriously about to do this. 

He probably wouldn’t be doing this without the cyclone accident, though. 

Noel had gone through an interesting journey with the choir. In middle school, ocean had insisted that Noel and Constance form a trio with her, and the three would preform show tunes and church songs at school concerts. 

Once they hit freshman year, however, Ocean quickly came to the conclusion that there were no creative extra curriculars, and therefore she took it upon herself to form a proper choir. 

After going around and handing out flyers, she had finally recruited a few upperclassmen. Well, Ocean dragged her cousin Astrid, who dragged her friends with her, because there was no way she was going to do that alone. 

Noel was hesitant to continue with choir, though. He had been hoping to lose his status as ‘token gay boy’ at his new school, praying that even the kids from middle school would have forgotten about him. But his type A friend was going to make this happen, although Noel usually stayed in the back during performances. 

But that didn’t stop the ridicule he faced. His middle school peers remembered Noel much more than he had hoped, and the bullying was worse now that the assholes had connections with older students. 

But Ocean never seemed to notice how bad it would get, always demanding for 110% to be given during every single rehearsal and performance. 

Noel grew to resent the choir over the years. What had once been a fun escape with his two best friends had quickly become Oceans personal project, trying to get bonus points on her resume. 

Giggling in Constance’s living room as the trio harmonized off key became Ocean screeching at ‘her’ choir if someone messed up. 

Noel really considered leaving, but it wasn’t like he had anything else to put on a college resume, or to do with his time. So he stayed, because he really wasn’t up for ocean accusing him of hating his friends and being mad about losing her one and only gay guy, because, as she insisted, ‘You just can’t have a choir without a gay man!!’. 

During the years, Astrid, Hank, Corey, Trishna, and Corey graduated, and Ocean went hunting for new members. She ended up recruiting a girl, Penelope? Peggy? Noel wasn’t too sure, just trying to get through every rehearsal. She had a lovely voice, though, and Noel made a mental note that Monique probably had a similar voice to her. 

Noel had been working on Monique Gibeau for a while. She was everything he wanted to be: wanted, no, needed. Admired. Feared. 

Writing stories about and drawing her had started taking up his free time, and as he stood at the back of the stage during choir performances, Noel often looked around the audience, hoping to find someone with an interesting outfit or piece of jewelry that he could add to his beloved character. 

Another girl joined the choir, too, Savannah. ‘Joined’, yet again, wasn’t the right world though. Ocean had made her join for ‘diversity’, and Savannah was forced to play the tambourine. 

Noel had been friends with Savannah in primary school, although he had known her under a different name. She looked miserable, sitting in her chair and tapping her tambourine half heartedly. 

In their senior year, Misha Bachynskyi was made to join the choir, this time not by Ocean. Something about wine, Noel knew. 

Noel’s bullies had mostly given up, which was quite a relief to Noel. 

Then there was the fall fair. The day had been so regular. 

Except it wasn’t, because they literally died. But then they didn’t. And afterwards, the choir got closer, Ocean coming to her senses, and making an effort. She apologized personally to everyone, and for the first time since middle school, Noel really enjoyed choir. It was fun again. 

He looked forward to rehearsals, and their sleepovers and karaoke nights, because now, that meant time with his friends. His best friends. 

And tonight, Noel didn’t complain as he sang his part of bohemian rhapsody, just taking everything in, despite the silly nature of the activity. 

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 "COVER" section analysis (1)

Analysis and theories on how to interpret the characters' profiles in the Cover section of the game, such as their exhibition year, ages, their medium, afflatus etc. A full dissection of the profiles.

I started seeing a lot of people argue about whether a character's first exhibition date correlates or not to their birth year, if their ages are correct and all the little inconsistencies that make it difficult to understand, so obviously I wanna talk about it lolol

disclaimer that I do not play or follow CN updates, I only play the global version! but I invite everyone with more insight (hehe....insight) to discuss in reblogs, replies or tags! (<- loves discussing viddygames)

I'm ALSO gonna be VERY pedantic and explain some stuff that might seem super obvious or go on really long tangents because this game is relatively new, so I don't wanna assume everyone is on the same page and alienate some ppl from discussing the lore and cool stuff of the game!

First of all, I would like to point out something that most people know by now about the character profiles, just in case someone hasn't seen it yet: the "Cover", "Item" and third unlockable story for every character are all written by Pandora Wilson for the UTTU magazine.

When you go to a character's cover page, there's an extra menu that can be found by tapping on the UTTU logo on the top right corner, as pictured here.

Which leads you to the following page, a Reader's Guide for UTTU's magazine.

The contents of the Reader's Guide are a little scattered and confusing, sometimes their own text format breaks as well, such as points 5, 6 and 8 being in the same paragraph as opposed to a proper numbered list. Or point 11 having a weird line break mid-sentence.

There are three items pictured on the guide, which have letters spelling out different words. The first one spells "ARCANUM", the second one "MAGAZINE" with "SELF-UPDATING" upside down, and the last one spells "ENJOY reading". Not pictured above is the full proper end of the guide:

But overall, this guide is important because it explains the formatting of the profiles and why they're worded a certain way. The implication is that the character profiles are interviews of all arcanists that Pandora Wilson and UTTU encounter, archiving and exhibiting their information like works of art.

There are some people who offered the idea of the profiles being written by Vertin, since the voicelines imply all characters are talking to her - but this cannot be, since the voicelines are just an archive of the lines said during other situations, such as being in the main menu (her suitcase) or battles (guided by her). In this case, it is extradiegetic within the context of the magazine (though the Guide does allude to the magazine being able to emit scents and have moving pictures within).

There is also another theory which replaces Vertin with the Foundation instead, given the events of the main story. For those who don't know, in the main story there is a very heated political debate within the Foundation regarding Vertin and all the arcanists she's gathered, on whether they deserve to be an independent group led by her or go through their usual regulation system. This theory implies that the information given in the profiles are reports made by the Foundation.

But given UTTU's Reader Guide and every 03 Story, we can all safely confirm that they're all written by them and Pandora Wilson. The items' description are also written from Pandora's perspective. This might be a lot just to establish a single thing, but I wanna be thorough!

As for why UTTU magazine specifically chose to portray all arcanists as pieces of art, using words like exhibit and measuring them the same way one would a statue, I don't have a very clear answer!

The game overall has a lot of themes regarding art, like Vertin's tuning abilities "First Melody" and "Grand Orchestra" being so obviously music themed. She's portrayed as a conductor for the arcanists she leads. The art theme also lines up pretty well again with the main story and how Vertin, as a Timekeeper, is meant to record time and events for the Foundation but she also keeps track of the people she meets and their endeavors, not for the Foundation but herself. It makes sense to me that the arcanists she takes in are seen as "artwork" by UTTU, they're stuck in time and represent an era that is no longer possible to reach or that has long passed. It makes sense that they're archived and represented as such to me, at least!

With that, we can finally go into the actual cover page for the characters. I'll be using the characters that I personally own and I'm most familiar with as examples. So everyone say hello to Pavia again.

Right away, we're hit with an unknown term - "mixed".

In the "Atlas" menu, there's three sections - "Story Review" which allows you to see the full story of the game as you unlock it, with some of the trails you can unlock (this is irrelevant to the post, I just wanna say it here in case anyone can help me out - but some of the trails don't seem to be recorded in this menu and there is no way to find them again?), then there's "Role Atlas", which I'll get to in a second, and "Psychube", a collection of all Psychubes.

The Role Atlas is, once again, written by UTTU. You can see their logo in all the magazines and there is the UTTU Bound Volume of all characters in one menu. The text on the covers varies, but I cannot read most of them clearly, the text inside does not change. All five of them in order are:

The Beyond

The Awakened

Arcanists

The Mixed

The Infected

All character's profiles begin by stating which of these categories they fit in. The VAST majority of the characters fall within the "Arcanists" group, so it's very easy to assume that all human characters will fall within this section, while others such as Door or Mr. Apple would fall in categories like "Awakened" by virtue of being objects.

And this is where it gets tricky, because as far as I know, there is no official description for any of these categories nor what they fully entail! But bear with me, there's a thought process somewhere in here.

The "Beyond" seems to be self-explanatory - it encapsulates any living creature that comes from space and isn't native to Earth, such as Voyager and aliEn T.

The "Awakened" seem to be inanimate objects native to Earth that gained consciousness and self-awareness, such as Mr. APPLe, Sputnik and Ms. Radio. But that is immediately put into question when seeing characters like Darley Clatter, Door and TTT being categorized as "Arcanists" instead.

There are only two "Mixed" characters - Pavia and Satsuki. The word alone could easily imply that they're either "half-arcanists", and thus less respected due to their lesser Arcanum abilities, or that their Afflatus is mixed, but Afflatus and the way they're assigned onto characters is still very vague, because they don't seem to align with their actual use of magic.

And then, we have the "Infected". There are no characters labelled as such so far, so there's nothing to speculate here.

With all of this in mind, I would like to point out the wording of the profiles. I will add a few examples here in order of category (Beyond, Awakened, Arcanist, and then Mixed).

Notice how Mr. APPLe, Darley Clatter and Pavia's description are notably different than aliEn T's? Compare "A supernatural work" to "A mixed's work".

I don't own Voyager, but her profile listed in the wikifandom site follows the same pattern as aliEn T. It is very distinct to me that neither aliEn T nor Voyager, the only two characters who come from actual space, aren't described as "A supernatural's work".

The point I'm trying to make here is that the first phrase of the profiles alludes to the character's parents or creator, rather than themselves.

After all, the character is the artwork, it makes sense that they allude to their origins/heritage - in this case, crediting the "artist" that brought them to life. With the examples given, it makes sense to me that the Beyond cannot be anyone's work, by virtue of being aliens. Human concepts such as family and such don't necessarily have to apply to aliens. Their origins can easily be much too complex to understand by our standards.

One might argue that this theory falls apart when examining the Awakened - after all, they're described as "An Awakened's work". But I have to insist that the Awakened are confirmed to be inanimate objects that became sentient on their own, and thus they are given credit for their own "existence" so to speak. I'd like to point out the introductions posted on the official global twitter for these three characters. Mr. APPLe's does not allude to the moment he became sentient, but Ms. Radio's and Sputnik's do.

And speaking of sentience, I chose Darley Clatter as the example for the "Arcanist" category because it perfectly illustrates the point I'm trying to make. Darley Clatter is not a human in any way whatsoever, it's a toy horse. But the difference that sets Darley Clatter apart from the "Awakened" is the fact that he was MADE by an arcanist rather than gaining sentience himself. He exists and is able to move and talk thanks to an arcanist - this is explained in his 01 Story

If you don't feel like reading it, here's a short summary - it tells us about a young girl named Lilian who wants a horse and how her father, who spoils her way too much, approaches an unnamed arcanist to make her dreams come true. The arcanist then gets the ingredients needed and prepares a speech for Lilian's father, insisting that the foal they created will be better than any other real horse. Thus, making Darley Clatter an arcanist's work.

But then it leads me to characters like La Source, Pickles or Door. La Source is easy to explain, as she's a magical creature. Nature itself and some animals aside from critters are presented as inherently magical in some ways, so that could also explain Pickles. I'm pretty sure one of the tips displayed in loading screens says something similar to "sentience has nothing to do with arcanum ability", which supports the previous statement. As for Door? I have no idea!

And there's also the more vague characters, who were implied or hinted to have been humans and are now supernatural entities such as TTT, Rabies, Poltergeist or Click. I'd argue that the supernatural aspect of it lines up with nature as an inherently magical thing, but that could be a reach.

Another point against the theory I offer is the fact that it implies most of the characters come from arcane bloodlines, and arcanists are said to be a minority. But how can they be a minority if everyone and their dog (hehe, Pickles....get it...) comes from arcane bloodlines?

During Constantine and Madame Z's divorce arc the last two chapters, one of the main points of tension within the Foundation is the fact that there are more arcanists than there used to be in the past (hinted to be a result of the "Storm"). And that these arcanists no longer feel comfortable having so many restrictions within society now that they're no longer a minority that's easy to ignore. While this information could work as an argument to support my theory, I think it's easier to remember that all the characters in-game are people that Vertin takes along to brave the storm with her - as seen with Regulus, they're special. The fact that there's so many of them isn't an issue. The ones not relevant to the main story are summoned with the spinning wheel from their respective times, it is not indicative of a high amount of Arcanists overall because they don't share the same space or time.

Characters like Druvis III, Mesmer Jr, Matilda and Sotheby are stated to come from prestigious or important arcanist families, but for other characters its either a subtle implication or their families are not addressed in the slightest.

And this finally brings us to the "Mixed" - where do they fit? Does this term allude to something different, just like the "Beyond"? Are they Mixed because their Afflatus is different? Or because they come from a family that includes both Arcanists and non-magical humans? Or because they're not full Arcanists? For this, we have to examine both Satsuki and Pavia. Both of them share a very particular detail that is important to their respective backstories: neither of them know their parents.

Satsuki is an orphan, which led her to start a life of crime out of necessity. The defining trait of her character is that she's trying to put her past behind her. This excerpt is from her 01 Story.

On this hopeless land, the orphan girl could only make a living by theft, which had earned her the title "Little Thief Using Arcane Skill" from the local government.

As for Pavia, he was sent to live with his aunt after his mother's death. The information on Pavia's parents is mentioned in his 02 Story and one of his voicelines.

His aunt did not like him. The child's face resembled that of her beautiful, sorrowful sister who had abandoned her, gone to the city, then died a few years later.

Mio padre (my father) was missing, Mia madre (my mother) was in the asylum. I can't remember her face, but I vaguely remember the rhyme she sang me... She's in Rome, probably in her middle age. I've never visited her.

On Pavia's specifically, there is a little confusion from my part since his 02 Story says that his mother died a few years after she left for the city, but then Pavia's voiceline implies she's still alive. I go into detail about that in this other post here, so I won't do it again either cause this post is already long as shit.

Either way, the main thing to keep in mind is that neither of these characters knew their parents, which could explain why "Mixed" is a category for Arcanists whose families and bloodlines couldn't be properly traced on account of not knowing them.

But also, "Mixed" encompasses arcanists who aren't purebloods, as implied by this document on Manus Vindictae from chapter 3:

"Holding a grudge against humans and contempt for the mixed, these extreme racists only recognize the bodies ruled by arcanist's blood as 'mankind'."

"In that case, humans, arcanists on the human side, and the mixed who tolerate the pollution of arcanist's blood [...]"

The wording used to described the Mixed speaks for itself. There's a discussion to be had about the parallels between the stigma against Arcanists and real life racism, or rather, how it replaces racism as we know it within the universe of the game. But that's an entire different debate. Overall, it's safe to assume that "Mixed" is a term for those without traceable and/or fully arcane families.

As for the "Infected", I have nothing to say because there's no one in that list! From what I can gather trying to look up information on them, Schenider was put on that list in the CN version for the demo, but was later taken out. I'll leave it at that for this part.

The next part of the profile states when they were exhibited and for how long. The first thing that comes to people's minds is to assume the year/era stated is when the character was born and that the age listed is their current age.

But upon closer inspection, that year of birth theory falls apart rather quickly because of characters like Regulus, who has been "exhibited" in two different centuries. Satsuki as well has two different ages listed. Or the fact that characters who should know their exact birth year instead have an approximation of it, like Matilda. Sonetto, despite being on the same age range as both Vertin and Matilda, is listed to have been exhibited in the 20th century too instead of the 1990's like Matilda's profile. Lilya, who was also in the Foundation at the same time as those three, is said to have been exhibited in the second half of the 20th century. They're within the same period, but imply very different things in the end. It's little details and wordings that simply don't add up.

But the biggest thing that ruins this assumption is the fact that characters born in the 90's simply wouldn't have any time to be the age they're listed as, because time began to go backwards on the year 1999.

This might be something explained in future CN chapters or events, I recall seeing people talking about how there are hints and clues about how time might've advanced up to 2006, that Vertin has been lied to in that regard, that the Foundation knows more than it lets on. And that could definitely affect my current analysis, but again, I'm a global player </3.

So assuming time DID stop in 1999 AND that the years listed are their birth years... Let's talk about Matilda and Pavia, characters stated to have been exhibited in the 1990's. Pavia is stated to have been exhibited for 25 years, while Matilda has been exhibited for 14 years - there are 11 years of difference between them, already impossible for characters who were both born in the 1990's. If Pavia was born in 1990, Matilda would've had to have been born in 2001 for their ages to line up. This isn't even taking into consideration the fact that they would've also have to live BEYOND 1999.

One could argue that they could've continued aging as expected with the reversal of time, but Matilda is the only one who could've done so by virtue of being a student within the Foundation - who are not affected by the "Storm". Pavia wouldn't have been able to, because only those special Arcanists can brave the storm if they're WITHIN Vertin's suitcase. The other option to survive a storm would be to work with the Foundation or Manus Vindictae. I can also safely say that Vertin wouldn't have been able to save Pavia on time, on account of being a child and the fact that Regulus was the first Arcanist she ever saved - something that took place in 1966.

Which begs the question: what does the year a character was first exhibited mean?

I've been told that one of the most popular theories within the CN fandom is that the year dictates the moment the character developed their Arcanum. For a magazine that focuses on Arcanists' and the truth about them, it makes sense to focus on when they first began to develop their unique Arcane skills. It does help with some age inconsistencies, but it leads me to think again about the previous examples.

Pavia first developed his skills as a child - it's the same argument as before. The timeframe is much too narrow for things to line up with his current age. And again, there's characters with more than one exhibition date.

I think it's pretty simple and that we might be reading too much into it: an exhibition is just a public display of art. The exhibition date is just the eras in which the characters were seen. The era they're from.

I don't have Regulus, but I remember her global Cover profile lists two different ages. The wikifandom states this for her profile: "Exhibited in the mid-20th century for 15 years." The era listed, mid-20th century, is equivalent to the period between 1930s and 1960s - this lines up with the main story, as Regulus braves the "Storm" from her era in 1966 (note she was already 15) to 1929.

For characters that aren't relevant to the main story (or that simply aren't affiliated with the Foundation or Manus Vindictae) the era they were exhibited in could apply to the moment they were taken from by Vertin's spinning wheel - the abilities of the item and the way characters are summoned seems to transcend time and space, leaving it all vague, magical and mysterious enough to make it work without too much scrutiny.

Next! The date the characters' were "completed" is simply their birthday. This is easy to check, since we can check all birthdays of the month when looking at the Sign-In menu and tapping on the birthday cake on the top right.

Right now, as of writing this, it's December. Rabies' birthday is on the 14th, which aligns with the information on his Cover profile.

Next, their place of birth and different places of exhibit. Pretty self-explanatory too! This is where they were born and all the relevant places the character might've traveled to throughout their life.

This post got very long, so I'll be talking about the remaining sections in a different one! If you've read this far, thank you! And if you have more insight, thoughts or would like to discuss details I might've missed, overlooked or that you feel are relevant, I'm all ears! I love talking lore and theories with others <3

[acey-wacey]

Affection hc’s for Floyd pleease🤍

I added the Scarabia boys as well. Enjoy!

...

Affection HCs

...

🐚 Floyd Leech 🐚

He's quite violent in his affection.

It obviously isn't meant to be malicious but he isn't used to affection that isn't very aggressive.

He doesn't know how hard humans can be squeezed without suffocating and he thinks it's kinda funny to find out.

You can tap out whenever it starts hurting but you know he means well.

After a while of being together, he gains more understanding of gentle hugs and utilizes this.

He still likes being playfully aggressive, but when you're snuggling, he doesn't want to suffocate you.

On that note, he is a big snuggler.

Doesn't matter what time of the night it is, if he wants snuggles, he will sprint to Ramshackle to kidnap you and bring you back to his room.

He wraps his arms and legs around you like a koala so you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

He's a biter.

A nasty, little biter.

If any of your skin is exposed on any part of your body, he will be on that like a feral chihuahua.

You make the mistake of wearing a crop top for once and he picks you up and takes a nice munch of your belly.

It hurts a bit and he'll always apologize if he draws blood.

How can you say no to his little puppy eyes?

He never intends to hurt you, but he definitely pushes the limits at times.

He ditched work a lot to visit you.

It's got to the point where Azul had to force you to stay in the lounge until Floyd's shift is over so he won't run off.

Of course, if Azul ever tried to trick you into a contract or take advantage of your relationship in any other way, he will be threatened by both Leech twins.

Jade is quite fond of you because he notices how much happier his brother is with you.

Floyd can focus a lot better on whatever he's doing when you're around, mostly because he wants to impress you.

You get great scary dog privilege with both brothers leering over your shoulders at all times.

...

🪙 Kalim Al-Asim 🪙

He's very, very vocal about his affections.

Even before you were dating, he told you how much he liked you every day, be it over text or in person.

He's also a big gift giver.

It gets a little much sometimes but he means we'll.

You have a whole closet dedicated to jewelry and expensive gifts he's given you, though you rarely have occasion to wear any of them.

Your favorite gift that he gave you is a simple pair of ruby earrings that are small enough not to draw attention and match the color of his eyes.

It's the only piece that ever leaves the closet.

He loves to throw parties in your honor often making up small reasons for you to have a feast.

If parties aren't your scene, he won't make you go but he'll save some of the food to bring to you later.

He'e aware that his attention can be overwhelming at times and he will not be offended if you tell him to tone it down.

He just has trouble with the concept of "tone it down".

Eventually, you make a list of rules which limits him to one party and one expensive gift per month.

Aside from gifts, he's very physically affectionate.

He wants to be touching you at all times.

He usually hangs onto your arm when you're walking together and gives you hugs everytime he sees you.

He doesn't usually initiate kisses because he can't read social cues very well so he waits for you to make the first move.

And even then, he likes cheek or nose kisses better.

Grim doesn't mind you being spoiled because it means he gets lots and lots of tuna as well.

Kalim is a little childish but he wants you to know how much he loves you, in his way or yours.

...

🐍 Jamil Viper 🐍

In contrast to Kalim's carefreeness, Jamil is very discerning with his affection.

He prefers to keep to himself anyway so he doesn't show a lot of PDA.

Most of your friends didn't even know the two of you were dating until like 2 years in.

Although he won't admit it, he really does crave your touch.

Not as openly as Kalim, but more subtle ways.

He'll find small ways to touch you without it being explicitly affectionate but you know he just wants to touch you.

Sometimes he puts his hand on the small of your back in crowded hallways.

He can claim it's so you don't get lost but you know the truth.

He also will let you into the kitchen when he's cooking.

You may not see that as such a big thing but the Scarabia dorm members know how special that is since he's yelled at all of them for getting within 10 feet of his workspace.

He even lets you help out sometimes.

Even if you know how to use a knife properly, he'll still hover his hand over yours to help you keep steady.

When you're alone, you have to initiate the affection.

He still feels uncomfortable asking for things because he's scared to be shut down so you have to help him along.

He's not a big snuggler, per se, but he likes holding your hand while you lay next to each other.

It's a small enough gesture to not be overwhelming but something you can still identify as affection.

He shows affection in small ways almost imperceptible to someone who isn't close to him.

It's in the subtle way his lips quirk up when he rolls his eyes at something silly you did or how he leans a bit too close to you when you're showing him something on your phone.

It's the comfortable silence in your room while you stroke his hand with your thumb and the texts he sends you every night asking how your day was.

He doesn't seem to be the most involved but you can see how sweet he is and maybe someday he will be able to share more of himself with you without being afraid of rejection.

[theostrophywife]

Hi! Can I request an Az x reader where its just like a bunch of fluff during Christmas time? Like decorating and baking, etc?

winter solstice.

author's note: to all my azriel girlies out there, i got you. here's a purely fluffy holiday piece for our favorite bat boyfriend.

There was nothing quite as magical as Winter Solstice in Velaris. 

You spent the majority of the year in quiet anticipation, awaiting the crisp winter air, the fresh powdered snow, and most importantly, the annual Winter Solstice fair. The festivity was a week-long celebration held in the city and showcased vendors, artists, and food from the four palaces. Amongst your favorite activities were drinking spiked hot chocolate, building snow castles, and watching the faelight show that you’ve adored since you were a child, but by far the best part of this season was getting to spend it with Azriel. 

Your mate knew how much you loved Winter Solstice and made it a point to accompany you to all your favorite activities even if it involved getting drunk on warm cider and causing a tinsel explosion in your shared flat. Azriel would do anything to put a smile on his mate's face, including cleaning up your mess and tucking you into bed clad in your favorite cozy pajamas. The twin of which you insisted he wear as well.

You considered yourself incredibly lucky to have a mate that put up with your antics. Azriel spoiled you beyond belief and you loved every second of it, but not nearly as much as you loved Azriel himself.

It was only the first day of the festivities and so far you’ve baked, decorated, and drank your fill of spiked hot chocolate. According to the shadowsinger, this was just a glimpse of what he had planned. 

“Can you at least give me a hint?” 

You balanced on your tiptoes, dangling a crystal star in front of your mate’s face as he loops a string of faelights around the pine tree that you picked out together the night before. Azriel shakes his head, chuckling as you pout in return. You’ve been dying to know what this mysterious plan of his was since the minute he’d woken you up this morning, but so far he hasn’t given you any hints besides telling you to dress for the cold. The male was a steel trap of secrecy. Damn him and his spymaster skills. 

Still, you couldn’t even pretend to be mad at Azriel. Not after the amazing morning you’ve had baking holiday cookies and decorating your entire flat with faelights, tinsel, and glitter. The latter of which was currently covering Azriel’s knit sweater. The sight made you grin. You were so used to seeing him in his Illyrian leathers that the cream, cable knit sweater combined with his blue flannel pajamas made him seem like a whole new male. If only the rest of Prythian could see the feared shadowsinger donning fuzzy bunny slippers. You giggled as you flicked the front of his sweater, causing flecks of glitter to rain down onto the carpeted floor. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you declare with a huff. 

The shadowsinger tickled your sides before sweeping you into his arms. He was surprisingly warm and smelled of his usual night chilled mist and cedar with a hint of pine and dark chocolate. You squeal in delight as he peppers you with kisses. 

“I promise that the surprise will be worth the wait, my love.” Azriel declares as he scoops you up into his arms. “Now come on, I believe our tree needs its star.” 

Perched on Azriel’s shoulder, you carefully positioned the crystal star on top of the tree. You tapped it once and the ornament sparkled, casting an iridescent glow upon your entire flat. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

Your mate sets you down and wraps his arms around your waist before spinning you to face him.

“So are you, my love.”

“No peeking.” Azriel warns as he fastens the blindfold behind your head. 

After your busy and festive morning, you and your mate finally made it out of the flat and into the city. Azriel still wouldn’t budge when it came to revealing his plans, hence the blindfold. You braced yourself as he took off in flight, nestling into the warm cocoon of his shadows as Azriel careens through the skies. 

You weren’t airborne for long and landed a few minutes later. Judging by the excited chatter and the faint carols echoing all around, Azriel had taken you somewhere near the four market squares. The crunch of the fresh powdered snow underneath your feet was a pleasant sound and you felt giddy with excitement as the scent of caramel candy apples hit you full force. 

“You can look now.” 

You eagerly tear off the blindfold only to be greeted with the sight of your friends grinning back at you. The Inner Circle gathered upon the banks of the Sidra River, its icy waters frozen solid underneath you. Fresh powdered snow coated the makeshift wooden barriers that encompassed the whole rink, which was decorated with trinkets and ornaments that rivaled the decorations you had at home. All around you, High Fae and faerie alike whizzed past in a blur of joyful cheer and laughter. It was an absolute dream.

"Surprise!"

“Oh. My. Gods.” 

A high pitched squeal escapes your mouth as you encompass your friends into a group hug. 

“I’m guessing this means she likes it?” Cassian asks with an amused tone. 

“Loves it.” Azriel quips with a grin.

A few moments later, you were all laced up into a pair of ice skates and sliding gracefully into the ice rink. Beside you, Azriel struggled with his footing until you grabbed him by the hand and carefully led him further into the mouth of the Sidra. He grinned sheepishly and gods the sight of it felt like an ash arrow piercing through your heart. Your mate was so breathtakingly beautiful it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. 

The both of you took it slow, circling around the frozen river while the rest of your friends followed suit. Everyone seemed to be slowly acclimating to the icy terrain. The ever so graceful High Lord was currently desperately clinging onto Feyre while Mor and Amren stuck to the edges as they pieced together the momentum and velocity they needed without falling on top of one another. Even Cassian was bested by the ice. For all his muscle and strength, the Lord of Bloodshed was no match against the slippery floor. Nesta, on the other hand, was skating circles around everyone. You weren’t the least bit surprised. She was a graceful dancer. It only made sense that it translated to skating as well. 

“I think I finally found the one thing that I’m better at than you, Az.” 

Azriel squeezes your fingers, pulling you close to his side without a hint of shame. His wings playfully brush over your shoulders, providing him more balance. 

“I’ll take any excuse to keep my mate close. Even if I make an absolute fool of myself.” 

You chuckle as you spin in circles around him. “At least you’re doing better than Cas.” 

“Hey! I heard that,” Cassian grumbles. The Illyrian warrior teetered on his skates, barely gaining an inch of movement as his wings wobbled behind him. You couldn't help but laugh. It was akin to watching a newborn learn how to walk.

Just to annoy him even further, you skate over to his side and trace a figure eight underneath you before executing a series of spins that made everyone around you gape in awe.

“Showoff.”

“Perhaps you can try this move next time you and Az decide to have another icy showdown with the Vanserras."

Cassian shoots you a vulgar gesture in response, which only makes you laugh. 

Despite the cold, you thoroughly enjoyed yourself that afternoon. By the time the sunset finally rolled around, Azriel declared that he had one last surprise for you. After a round of warm cider and candy apples, you and the Inner Circle parted ways. The rest of your friends were off to explore the games, sculptures, and shows happening all around the market squares while Azriel flew you to the top of the highest building in the city. 

Fresh powdered snow fell steadily from the sky as you and Azriel perched on the balcony. From this vantage point, you could see the crowd milling about in the streets, their faces bright and happy as they drank, ate, and joined in on the merriment of the holidays. It fills you with warmth to see the citizens of Velaris celebrating after all this city has been through. 

Azriel hugs you from behind, resting his chin on the crook of your shoulder as he points to the horizon. 

“One last surprise.” 

One by one, the buildings flicker with different colored faelights, blanketing the city with the brilliance of the rainbow. Across the starry night, an assortment of jewel toned lights sparkled above the frozen Sidra, spelling a clear message: marry me?

You spun on your heel to find a sprig of mistletoe hanging between you and your mate. A velvet bow was fastened at the end of the branches and in its folds lay an enormous sapphire ring set in a stunning array of diamonds. Azriel carefully untangles the ring and kneels before you. 

Your heart was beating so loudly that the sound was ringing in your ears. 

“All my life, I have searched for a place to belong. In you, I have found a best friend, a lover, but most importantly, a home. You are my haven and you taught me that there is beauty in vulnerability. You have made me into a better male in every way possible and I’ve never felt safer than when you’re by my side. I love you more than the moon and stars. Being your mate is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, but I’d like to also have the privilege of calling you my wife. What do you say, my love?” 

The tears were falling before you even realized that you were crying. Gods, this male. It would’ve been more plausible to number the stars in the sky than to measure the amount of love you had for your mate. 

You look into those sincere hazel eyes, cupping your entire world in your hands as you smile up at your mate.

“You’re the love of my life, Azriel. The shooting star that lights up even the darkest of nights. You showed me how to love and be loved. Sometimes I think you were made just for me. I am yours till the end of my days and even beyond that. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

Without hesitation, Azriel picks you up and presses his lips against yours. You smile into the kiss, tangling your fingers through his dark locks. The bond snaps between you, lighting your very souls as you send the overwhelming surge of love you felt for this male through the connection you shared. 

Azriel was your best friend. Your mate. And now, your soon to be husband. 

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” you say with a grin. 

Azriel kisses the tip of your nose. “I can’t wait to be your husband.” 

“My husband,” you say, testing the word. “Gods, that’s so fucking sexy.” 

Your mate grins mischievously. “Why don’t I fly us back to the flat so I can show you just how sexy your future husband can be?” 

“Your future wife would like that very much, Az.”

[epiclamer]

Ayyooo

I want to request something 💃🏻💃🏻

Can you pretty please write something about a villain who's super depressed and sick and hadn't gotten out of their bed in their shitty apartment for days, and supervillain (for whatever reason) finds them in this state and takes them to their big, luxurious house and taked care of them? Lots of blankets and tea please 👉🏻👈🏻

Thank you in advance!! (If you're willing to do it though, you're completely free to do whatever you want of course)

This sounds fun…

CW: suicide mentions

Evil Nanny

On occasion, Villain let themselves fall, knowing full well that no one would be there to catch them or pick them back up and sew together all of their broken pieces. They knew that every time it would have to be them. Their own hands, their own care, their own treatments, their own love. Yet regardless of the ache it caused in their heart, they let themselves go.

Every time.

Villains excuse was that they were too tired to fight the urge anymore. That after all of the years of keeping themselves afloat, if the waves started up again they wouldn't tread.

A part of them despised this choice--some inner child bullshit they assumed--but they had reached a point where they couldn't be bothered. A point where days blended into months and months blurred passed in a blink of an eye. Where every small effort took the rest of their energy for the day.

However, at this time, on this day, it was different, because finally something happened that wasn't of the criminal's hand.

There was a knock on the door and at first Villain was sure they were hallucinating. The outside world felt so foreign, so illusory, that they couldn't believe it was real, honestly they hadn't even registered it until it sounded out a second time.

Quietly, like a mouse, the villain crossed their living room until their nose was a centimetre from their front door. With barely contained curiosity, Villain opened before a third tap could be made. Standing there, umbrella in one hand and the other shoved into their fancy suit pocket, was the supervillain.

Villains former mentor and active pain in the ass.

Former being the key word in this situation, as they no longer communicated with each other after a certain... disagreement between the pair that hadn't ended on good terms.

Supervillain didn't wait to be invited in. They snapped their umbrella shut and waltzed right past the other, having the decency to wipe their shoes on the mat before they tracked into Villains kitchen. Moving faster than the villain's exhausted brain could follow, they simply closed their eyes and took a deep breath, they could barely stand themselves at the moment, now they had to withstand their previous mentor without killing the both of them.

Just a few minutes.

"Your cupboards are empty." Supervillain turned in the villain's direction, face completely emotionless per usual. "Do you have a pantry?"

Villain could barely stop themselves from hysterically laughing, they were almost tearing up at the comment. "I live in a no bedroom studio apartment above a DollarMart. Do you seriously think I have the luxury of owning a pantry, let alone enough food to get me through a week."

The supervillain huffed, rolling their eyes at their former mentee's insolence. Never--under their command--would they have allowed such rude behaviour, but they let them off the hook just this once. It looked like they could use a break.

"I haven't seen you around lately, when you didn't answer my calls I figured I would drop by to make sure you're not dead."

"You wouldn't let me die if I tried."

"You were never the successful type..."

If there was one thing worse than eternal suffering it would be dealing with the supervillain, or maybe those two things went hand in hand.

The master criminal didn't berate the villain any longer, they looked uptight and unamused all at the same time. Like they couldn't be bothered but walked on their tiptoes. Villain had always hated how unreadable they were when they seemed to be able to tell the villain's deepest secrets with a split-second look.

"Have you been sleeping enough?"

"More than enough." The two voiced in unison, Supervillain's tone was considerably lighter than Villains and when they smiled it was like they were back to being teacher and student; with the supervillain constantly finishing their sentences like they didn't even need to ask the question.

Just a few minutes.

Villain blinked and the other was gone, strutting through the tiny apartment as they collected a few belongings which appeared important to the villain. Pretty much anything that wasn't coated in a layer of dust after not being touched for the last months.

The criminal was just about to object when they were interrupted. "I'm taking you home." Their mouth fell open in shock at the audacity.

"Excuse me?"

Supervillain grinned, "you're excused. Kudos for apologizing first, don't worry I do forgive you."

Villain spluttered in disbelief, their former mentor had barged into their home, insulted their house and mental health struggles before excusing them for an issue they had never started. They couldn't tell if they wanted to sob or laugh more.

"You're kidding."

They smiled apathetically before shoving the few possessions into the villain's arms and turning them towards the door. Supervillain patted their back in a "move ahead" gesture as they flung open the door, a black limo waiting patiently with the engine running.

Clearly, the look on Villains face spoke more words than anything coming out of their mouth in a jumbled mess as it prompted a short chuckle from the supervillain. Their piercing gaze returning to normal when the villain's face dropped in disapproval, anyone on the outside would figure both of them were having a horrible time. But Villain found the situation more so on the side of hilarious rather than angering.

"If you won't take care of yourself, then unfortunately, for the both of us, I will have to do it for you." They shrugged, picking at their cuticles, a nervous habit. "Or at least until your will to live returns."

The villain snorted a laugh, heading towards the awaiting car on wobbly legs. "Good luck. It's probably still somewhere in your torture chambers, or do you continue to call them training cells?"

Supervillain held a gentle kind hand on the villain's elbow to help keep them steady until they were seated comfortably on leather limo seats. Where they were then wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket and their belongings were replaced with a steaming mug of tea.

"I must say, I don't miss your company often, Villain."

"Pff, thanks." They couldn't hold back their grin this time, satisfaction flooding their chest at the thought of the supervillain fuelling a special hatred towards them.

"But," Supervillain added, tapping the tip of their umbrella against the carpeted flooring. "I can never get enough of your insufferable attitude."

Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all, Villain hoped, staring down at the loose leaves in their tea with a smile.

[foibles-fables]

happy aloy day y'all

this might be Thee Most Unpolished piece of writing I've ever shared, and it's got me a little bit nervy, but. I wanted to get something out for Aloy Day. I'm nowhere near satisfied with it, but I also wanna post about Talisah more than ever, so please enjoy this lil scribble?! Happy April 4th babeeeyyy

It’s not until years and years later that Aloy can be shaken from slumber without snarling and thrashing to defend herself. 

But Aloy survives. She fights, she mourns, she grows. Those years do pass—one and then another, step after step, a blur—like a slow walk that breaks gradually, seamlessly, into a run. Wounds heal where you can see them and where you can’t. Scarred, but always reaching for the light, she lets go, and lets herself begin to flourish.

And today (years and years, they echo behind her), she wakes calmly to a weight scrambling onto the bed and a quick jostle of her shoulder.

It’s past the time when she usually rises. Slowly, she coaxes her eyes open, squinting against the bold Meridian sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. As her vision clears, it settles on another pair of eyes, intent and bright, hovering very close. 

It’s the same amber gaze she’s grown used to waking up beside, reprised on a small face that Aloy knows is half her own—even if most couldn’t tell from a single glance.

Talisah, three years old and bursting with every bit of its energetic willfulness, leans in and speaks a little too loudly for the distance.

“It’s morning, momma.”

Aloy blinks hard and reels back from the near-shout with a soft, surprised laugh. Voice scratchy with oversleep, she says, “So it is, girl.” By habit, she lifts her finger to tap her daughter’s nose—Talisah scrunches her freckle-dusted face into a grin. It’s Talanah’s smile, through and through. “How come you’re waking me?”

She says, “For your birthday,” and Aloy feigns cluelessness. 

“Today’s my birthday?”

Talisah nods eagerly, scooting closer on her knees to crowd against Aloy. “Mama said.”

Aloy shifts to sit upright, pretending to ponder that for a moment. “Well. If mama said that, it must be true.” She gives the girl a big shrug. “I guess it’s my birthday.”

Satisfied with the concession and clearly raring to move on, Talisah retrieves a leaf of parchment from behind her and all but shoves it into Aloy’s face. “Here. Look!”

Once Aloy gets it held at a more suitable distance, the childlike and colorful pigment markings on the page take shape. Vivid blue sky, dazzling yellow sun (of course). A herd of four-legged machines grazes in a field full of sunflowers and the purple-petaled stems they keep in vases around their home. Among them stand four smiling human figures: three large, one small. 

And even though Aloy’s fairly sure she’s understood the concept, she asks anyway.

“This is so nice, Lis. Did you make it for me?” Talisah nods again, beaming. A few pieces of hair fall astray from her messy little tie-up. Aloy tucks them behind her ear. “Will you tell me about it?”

“It’s Grazers,” Talisah explains, nestling easily into the crook of Aloy’s elbow. She has grown so much, but she feels so warm and still fits just right. A crucial part of the new whole. “And us, petting them.” Of course. Putting her hands on any machine is her absolute favorite thing to do, in spite of Talanah’s cautious concern. “See momma, there’s Aunt Milu—” (she points at the tallest, broadest figure, scribbled in green) “—mama—” (long hair, tied back, holding a bow) “—you—” (red braids and a spear) “ —and me.” 

Her own smaller shape is standing closest to the Grazers, connected to Aloy’s at the hand.

And for the umpteenth time in three years, Aloy thinks of how unfathomable and effortless it is to love and to be loved this fiercely. Throat full of embers, she presses a kiss into Talisah’s silky black hair.

“I love this, little one,” she murmurs. “Is it alright if I keep it with me? In one of my pouches?”

“Yeah!” Talisah replies, puffed up with pride, snuggling closer into Aloy’s side. “Don’t rip it, please.”

“You have my word,” Aloy swears. Then, a thought strikes her. She contemplates the drawing again, trying to find what's missing. “Hey, hold on. What about Aunt Beta?”

Without missing a beat, Talisah points to another figure Aloy hadn’t noticed before—sitting a few paces away from the group in the shade of a boulder. “Got sunburn.”

Incredible. Aloy snorts out loud, imagining how Beta’s face will look when she sees it later. “That sounds about right.”

Talisah looks up at Aloy through her long lashes, expression as hopeful as any three-year-old’s could be. “Good birthday, momma?”

Truth be told, Aloy has celebrated very few of them. She’s only known when it actually is for less than a third of her life, and let it be known to others for an even smaller share. It’s always come and gone as a quiet turn of the world—she’s surrounded herself with people who understand why she prefers that, without needing to ask.

But with Talisah, that changed. She reflects her own contagious joy outwards, with no reason not to. A traditional Carja birthday celebration is her only context, and all comparisons are still simple. If for her, why not for everyone else?

And it still feels uncomfortable to acknowledge for Aloy her importance and worth for its own sake—to separate herself from the role she was given, and the ghost whose footsteps she followed. But the years have helped, and maybe it’s never supposed to be completely comfortable to untangle yourself from what’s laid out behind you. Maybe the point is to keep walking on through the rawness of it, and to keep trying.

Aloy looks down at the watchful child in her arms and tries. 

(She makes trying easy.)

“The best,” Aloy says, and means it. She lays a gentle palm on Talisah’s clean-scrubbed cheek. “Do you remember what the Nora do on their birthdays?” Talisah shakes her head, and her brow furrows in reflexive concentration, ready and eager to devour every new bit of information she is offered. “They spend the whole day celebrating their mothers. Would you like that? Giving mama and me gifts on your birthday?”

“Yes,” Talisah answers without hesitation. Then, less than a heartbeat later, with quiet uncertainty: “Would I still get mine?”

Aloy chuckles, rolling her eyes. Talisah’s life is full of safety and an abundance of affection, spoken and unspoken alike. Aloy would accept nothing less. “Of course you would, girl.”

For a moment, Talisah looks assured. Then she gives Aloy another thoughtful frown, a curious glint lighting her gaze.

“What about Elisabet, today?” she asks, sparking a connection between what she knows and the small ways she’s heard that story told. Someday Aloy will tell her the rest. “Your momma.”

It’s a marvel how smart she is. How quickly she cuts to the center of questions Aloy avoids asking herself. 

There’s an ache that comes with it, now. A flare of awareness—an old emptiness that no amount of longing ever could have filled. 

But where some parts linger empty, others run overfull. That, Aloy has learned, can be its own kind of wholeness. Words from long ago, in a voice that sounds like her own, resound gently into the present—into this world of Elisabet’s vision and Aloy’s fulfillment, the only world Talisah has ever known. 

(I would have wanted—her, to be…)

“I think Elisabet would want us to celebrate by going to see some Grazers.”

Talisah almost quivers with abrupt excitement, eyes wide and sparkling. Her hand slips into Aloy’s, gentle and warm. “Can we? Please?”

“We’ll ask mama.” Aloy gives her a reassuring squeeze. “Is she making breakfast? I hope so. I’m hungry.”

“Maize cakes. With honey and peaches.”

“Our favorite.” Aloy smiles and kisses Talisah’s head again. Then she sets the parchment aside and wraps her little daughter into a tight hug. “Thank you for my gift, Lis. I’m going to look at it all the time.” 

(It’s the truth. She will, and she’ll remember this morning.)

Talisah hugs her back, clinging to the soft-worn linen of Aloy’s shirt and burying her face against her chest. “Love you momma.”

Aloy’s heart swells—in that moment, like always, it’s enough to overwhelm every empty space she has ever felt or begun to forget.

“Wherever you go,” she whispers, a promise she’s made every day since Talisah came red-faced and screaming into this new and hopeful world, “I will follow.”

They lie cuddled close and quiet and content in the sunlight until Talanah calls them for breakfast.

Years and years ago, everything came open for this—this is the future that was worth fighting for.

[upontherisers]

scrunch from the prompts list pleaaaasseee <3

a/n: thank you for this request, friend!!! there is a soundtrack for this piece if y'all would like to listen along. all or nothing at all by harry james and frank sinatra. [ scrunch ] for a kiss on the nose

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Robert asks later, much later, after dinner and dessert and insisting on seeing her home.

“Tell you what?” she asks from her spot at the sink, scrubbing at their chipped, now empty coffee cups. It’s late, too late for this conversation, but too early for him to be on his way home, just the hour to listen to the new Harry James record and talk like it’s 1941 again and he’s not here to tie up a loose end.

He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to the sink. “About your night classes.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear all that,” she says. “My grandmother likes to brag—”

He raises an unimpressed brow. “Dora.”

It’s not in her to respond. She wants a nice night, a night that’s not about anything, a summer night like all the rest—one that makes no mention of his surprise hello or his looming good-bye, one that doesn’t talk of England, damn England, and certainly not a night that turns toward the firm that’s slowly but surely working her into an early grave and the professors that try to chase her out of their classrooms. Silence is better than that, so she lets the music float from the victrola and the linoleum creak under their feet.

“You should’ve said something.” 

The last saucer finds its place back in the cupboard above the sink and she stands back with a sigh, her arms crossing over her chest, drying towel still in hand. “And bore you to death? Dear Robert, no time to tell you about Minton’s because today we reviewed Nebbia v. New York. How much do you care about state-regulated milk prices?”

Chuckling, he turns his gaze to the floor.

This is the smallest her kitchen has ever felt. The usually sunny light overhead is now a sickly yellow and leaves her stomach in a knot, and the steam from the kettle sits like fog on every surface, even with the window open to let in the night air. It seems awkwardly stout with the oven and cabinets standing about her waist, all the cupboards right at her eyes, and barely enough room to turn around. Like everything she’s seen in the hours since Robert’s return—the streetlights, the bus, the steps up to her door—she wonders if it’s always looked like this, and if it’s her who’s only ever caught it in the wrong light. 

It now seems a mistake to have let him see her home, to have turned and welcomed him in, to have let him get the coffee down for her. She should be alone in silence, unexposed and unmoved, where she was before Jeannette got up from her mother’s dining table to answer the door.

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Enjoying what?

“Law school.”

“Oh.” Dora finds herself staring at her shoes, the same pair she was wearing to work before he left. “Yes,” she says after a moment. “I’m good at it, at least. I had a head start.”

“The firm’ll be lucky to have you.”

“They, uh, they told Mr. Freidin that I won’t be allowed to sit for the bar.”

The smile on his face drops and she wishes he wouldn’t have asked in the first place. There’s a reason she’d lied—no, omitted—her evenings from her correspondence; they’d made a fool out of her and he’s the last person she wants to look a fool in front of.

“They can’t do that.”

“They can and they will. Dean Porter said to try Columbia Law.”

His laugh is bitter now, affronted as he raises a hand to the countertop and taps anxiously. “And what? Make you start over again?”

“Yes.” Now he’s getting it. The cruelty is the point, as Mr. Freidin said.

Quiet follows and she hears the needle catch on the victrola down the hall. The apartment has never echoed like this, never rang so hollow. Summer’s gentle breeze turns to howling upon passing through the windows and the whole place feels like the ship they let the public on at the Navy Yard last year, built for life but uninhabited, waiting, inviting you to stay but only meant for a visit.

Is this all she has to offer? A half-year of letters and updates—the new housing council, the musicians’ strike, the sweetness of the peaches this year, his mother’s new dress—but it’s so dull in the flesh. She doesn’t make up for all the life she’s lived in his stead; she has sore feet and twinge in her wrist from her new typewriter at work, and not enough in the fridge for a proper night of playing hostess. Everything she could spare went to the picket line yesterday and oversleeping this morning meant she neglected to pick up anything for lunch and dinner tomorrow.

She’s so tired these days, down to her bones, but there’s nothing that waits for a woman—strikes, law school, old friends, and all. The sigh slips out of her before she can reel it in and his smile is full of regret.

“I should go.”

Everything gets committed to memory as she walks him to the door, in case it’s all she gets; a ten day furlough in exchange for twenty-five missions is a steal for the Air Force. She’s kept up with the papers, she knows the Bloody 100th’s odds. 

Halfway down the steps, he turns. The moon transforms him into a picture, with that new mustache his mother calls devilish and Jeanette calls unoriginal, and his curls neatly tucked into waves, eyes as blue as his daylight skies. Robert, or Rosie, as they call him now. A man who would see her home after hours on the train and a night placating worried questions about where he’s going and how long he’ll be there.

“Be careful,” she says.

In a blink, he’s back up the steps and standing in front of her. A hand comes to cup the side of her face, tucking a thumb along her jaw, and his eyes search hers for a moment before he smiles softly and leans in to gently press his lips to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” he murmurs, breath warm on her cheek. She can only nod as he backs down the steps, lest the lump in her throat burst, and departs with a wave.

The victrola ticks with static when she returns to her apartment, and as the lock clicks into place, echoing with her loneliness, she starts to cry.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Phone hacking and a dose of uncomfortable reality by u/Economy-Alfalfa-2241

Phone hacking and a dose of uncomfortable reality Many of us know this - don't bother reading if you know 🤗 - but it seems to me Clotface is desperately trying to reframe this whole hacking thing and it's just being repeated. But it was his fault. Why?His actual phone wasn't hacked, just his messages. Were they? Well, we're going back to the days Voicemail - young Redditors, clutch your smartphones in abject horror - was centrally organised with specific mailboxes allocated. Knowledge you could dial into anyone's messages if they hadn't reset the admin password was widespread and from that, you could frequently access the private mailbox of a client if they too hadn't password-protected or chosen a very easy one. Its barely hacking, it's just how the VM systems worked (I worked for one of the first VM companies here a few years before and the number of clients that didn't do this, despite warnings. I even managed to get into the Admin of a major telecoms company completely by accident by dialling through known options too fast. Oops. Sorreeeeed, didn't mean to. Tho I kinda wish I'd done something naughty with it 😈) and it was up to clients to protect themselves. Many....didn't. So how is it his fault? Because what happens is, when a security breach is found as it was by William, first thing you do is find the weak point and plug it. Admin passcodes were always the weak point and going back to original reports this seems to be the case. And at that point, Clotface can't argue he "didn't know" - didn't LISTEN maybe, but at the point it was known there was even a breach, everyone would have been told to change their personal codes. Numbnut wants you to imagine spy operations and shady cabals, but it was simply picking up the phone and dialling. That's IT. Fwiw, the admin password was usually 0000 or similar and there were only a few providers so it would be a piece of cake for reporters to know the basics and the admin codes are as basic as it gets. Chances are, anyone in the news, you'd probably give it a go if you were in that game - they likely had the work experience kid bashing in extremely basic codes every day then passing on any hits. And even the NotW gave up after hearing Captain Cockcreme telling himself jokes he'd then forget so he could re-access and laugh all over again - obviously eight (?) instances of him making farty noises and giggling was more than enough. Face it, Dimbo - you should have changed your password: you didn't. This whole ​PHONES HACKED WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIIIIIE AAAAAAARGHHHH is just such an over-egging of an extremely dull pudding. By an extremely dull pudding.To me, these things - real phone tapping, intruding on personal calls, is serious. Dialling in an easily -guessed code on an insufficiently protected VM to hear messages isn't the same. Not saying its ok, but one of these things is not like the other...I shuts up now. Is it just me, or is this small "eh, everyone does it" vs real intrusion? post link: https://ift.tt/a7ZPn2M author: Economy-Alfalfa-2241 submitted: July 26, 2024 at 03:23PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[hyunnieshannie]

Youtiful Series: CHAN

SAUDADE

🖤: Chan x Reader | Youtiful Series 🖊️: 2,393 🚨: ANGST- SO MUCH ANGST - Fluffy af tho

You love your boyfriend, you really, really do. But sometimes it’s so fucking difficult to take care of him. You’ve been dating Chan for 5 years. Of course things were rocky at some points in your relationship but you both knew and hoped that you were endgame. Since you’ve been with Chan for so long, you’ve been dubbed the ‘Mom’ of the Stray Kids boys and you wore that title like a badge of honor. They listened to you more than Chan anyway. But as the group mom it meant that you were taking care of more people, which meant that your attention was stretched out amongst 8 boys. You didn’t really mind though, you saw the rest of the boys like they were your brothers anyway.

You weren’t really surprised when you’d go days without hearing from your boyfriend. When they had projects coming up, Chan always buried himself in his work - something you got used to very early on in the relationship. He works very hard and you love him for his work ethic although you wished he’d at least send you a text to let you know he was alive. But thankfully, one of the boys usually sent you a picture of their hyung working in the studio or sending you a text saying they were feeding him and taking good care of him. 

It was only after a week that you started to worry about him. He usually never went more than 3 days without responding to your texts. But this time was much different. He’d read your messages and never sent anything back. He’s never done that before. He always texts you right after he reads the message or calls you. He never leaves you on read. You pick up the phone and call him. The phone rings 10 times before he finally picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hi Channie,” you sigh as you smile to yourself, finally happy you were able to speak to him. “I was thinking of coming by to bring you some dinner, is that alright?”

“Ah no, that’s ok. Jisung ordered food for us so it should be here shortly.” Chan said, you could tell that he was distracted by whatever project he was working on.

“Oh, ok. Are you doing ok? It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you..” you trail off, not wanting to accidentally start a fight.

“Oh sorry about that, just been busy. You know how it is.” He says plainly.

“Ok, well I won’t keep you. Have a nice dinner. I love you Channie.” You say with a forced smile on your face.

“Mmm you too baby.” He says before hanging up the phone. You can’t help but feel your heart sink a bit once you drop the phone to your lap. You shake your head and force a smile on your face.

“He’s just busy, that’s all. No need to worry, y/n. Everything’s gonna be fine.” You say to yourself, not sure why you need to convince yourself in the first place.

Another week goes by before you hear from Chan. You keep pushing your anxiety down. You know the boys are busy and you know Chan always puts every piece of himself into his work. But there’s this nagging feeling that’s gnawing at your heart that’s telling you that something’s wrong. You ignore it not wanting to worry the people around you, especially the boys.

“How’s Chan?” You ask Felix as you lay across his lap, playing this silly game he recommended. 

“Channie-hyung? He’s great actually, why do you ask?” Felix says as he taps on the controller staring hard at the television in front of the two of you.

“Just curious is all. He’s been in the studio a lot lately so it’s been hard to get a hold of him.” That statement had Felix pausing the game and looking down at you.

“Y/n, we finished recording everything 2 weeks ago…” Felix says as he watches your facial expression sour.

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“We finished recording 2 weeks ago. Channie-hyung has been leaving the same time we have.” Felix says cautiously. “He left with us today too.”

You abruptly stand up, almost elbowing Felix in the face. “H-hey y/n where are you going?”

“To find my fucking boyfriend.” You seethe as you force your shoes back on and walk out the door slamming it behind you.

It takes you no time at all to reach your boyfriend's dorm, storming through the front lobby and stalking your way to his door. You let yourself in and let the door slam behind you. Changbin peaks around the corner wide eyed.

“Oh Jesus. Hey y/n. You scared the shit outta me. I thought you were a robber or something.” Changbin laughed, his eyes relaxing and a small smile gracing his lips. Only after seeing your expression did his sour as well. “Y/n what's wrong?” He asks as he quickly moves in front of you holding your shoulders gently.

“Where is he.” You demand quietly.

“Who? Where’s who?” Changbin asked, confused.

“My lying boyfriend. Where. Is. He.” You say as the anger begins to boil inside your being. Changbins face falls and he drops his hands from your shoulders.

“He’s in his room.” Changbin says blankly, moving out of your way as you breeze past him to your boyfriend's room.

You try to calm yourself before you confront him but the more you stand there the angrier you got so you quickly flung the door open and stepped inside. Chan was laying on his bed, his phone in his hand and his eyes wide as he took in your form. You didn’t let him get a word in before you started rambling.

“What the fuck is going on Chris? I have to learn from Felix that you guys have been done recording for the past 2 weeks which means you’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?! What the fuck? Telling me you’ve been working late in the studio when in reality you’ve been going home at the same time as the rest of the boys! You’ve been avoiding the shit out of me and I’ve been trying my best to keep things together but I can’t handle this anymore. I’ve been worried sick at home, crying myself to sleep most nights because I don’t know what’s going on with you. With us. Instead of ignoring me and distancing yourself from me just tell me you don’t want to date me anymore.” You’re so frustrated you start spewing everything at him, angry tears falling down your cheeks. You don’t care how loud you’re being either, the rest of the boys can definitely hear every word you’re saying.

“Y/n, baby.” Chan says as he gets up to comfort you.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, Chris.” You say as you push his hands away from you. “You don’t get to do that after ignoring me for weeks. Not answering my calls or my texts. You don’t get to bury this. Explain yourself. Now. Or I’m leaving.” You say as you cross your arms over your chest, locking eyes with him, tears still cascading down your cheeks.

Chan sighs and backs up to his bed and sits at the edge, placing his head in his hands, letting out a long sigh. He’s quiet for a long time and you take that as his answer. You turn to open the door when you hear him mutter something.

“What?” You ask as you turn back to him.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He looks up at you and his face is red, eyes watering and tears spilling down his cheeks. He stutters as he takes a breath in and out. “I’m so, so sorry, y/n.”

You’re not sure what to say. You want to ask what he’s sorry about but you can’t find the words, your breath caught behind the lump in your throat. You stay silent and hope that he explains further.

“I’m sorry, baby, I really am. I never…” a sob wracks its way through him, completely breaking down in front of you. You feel yourself flinch when the instinct to console him rushes through your body, but you remain still. Too scared that he might push you away if you get too close. “I’m.. I ne-… baby, I’m so sorry.” He says through broken breaths.

“Breathe, Chris.” You say as calmly as possible, a little bit of your anger slips through at the end however. He does as you say though and takes in slower breaths.

“I’m sor-“ 

“If you apologize one more time without giving me an explanation I’m leaving.” You say firmly, knowing full well that if you didn’t stop the ‘im sorry’ train, he’d continue down that track for hours.

“I… there were… rumors.” He says as he looks down towards the floor, wringing his hands together. “There were tweets and tiktoks being made about… me… and you… I didn’t know what to do. People saw us out a few months ago and threatened to leak the photos. Our faces weren't visible so the company decided not to respond. But when we didn’t respond, they posted them anyway. There’s been so much speculation and people have been saying such horrible things about what they’d do if I ever had a girlfriend. I was told to not say anything, not to address the rumors, to go on business as usual. But every time I went online that’s all I saw. And I panicked. I didn’t want them to find out about you because I didn’t want them to attack you. I wanted to keep you safe so I distanced myself. I didn’t know what else to do. It was the only way I could think of protecting you.”

You stand there processing his rambling. You’ve been so busy you haven't been online as much as you usually were. Chan keeps muttering ‘I’m sorry’s’ and ‘I didn’t know what to do’. You didn’t know he was having such a hard time and you wish he would’ve just told you instead of keeping it from you.

You slowly approach him and kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away from his face and holding them in your hands. 

“You should’ve told me.” You whisper to him.

“I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you… no I couldn’t.” He says through shaking breaths. You squeeze his hands tighter in yours.

“But you pushed me away instead. Do you know how worried I was for you? I thought that you were pushing me away because you were getting bored of me, or because… you didn’t love me anymore.” You say the last part quietly, too scared to even voice that the thought had crossed your mind. Chan immediately breaks upon hearing it, falling to the floor in front of you and bringing you in for a tight hug.

“Fuck… I’m so sorry. Baby…” He tries as he sobs into your shoulder, tears falling down your own cheeks as you hug him back just as tight. You both hold each other in your arms, letting all the tears out. When you both stop crying and calm your breaths you both pull away but still keep your limbs tangled together.

“Baby… I-I’m so sorry.” Chan begins as he looks at you with such sad eyes. “I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t love you anymore. I didn’t think… I had no idea that pulling away from you would make you think that. I wasn’t thinking.” He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing your hands so tightly. “I love you so much, I- I would do anything for you.”

You smile sadly at him. You place one of your hands on his cheek, cradling his face in your palm. “You would?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then let me in.” You whisper, placing your other hand on his empty cheek. He nuzzles into your palm as you continue. “Don’t push me away. Tell me about all your worries, your struggles, your dreams, your desires. Let me in and I’ll do the same. I love you, Chan, I want to be able to take care of you.”

“B-but, I don’t want you to worry. I want to be strong for the both of us.”

“You don’t need to be strong, baby. I just want you to rely on me more. Please..” 

He looks at you and then down to the ground and back up at you. “Ok, but I want you to rely on me too.” 

You nod at his request and a small smile appears on his lips.

“I’m sorry baby, really, I am.” Chan says as he pulls you closer to him.

“No more apologies.” You whisper as you place a feather light kiss on his lips. You rest your forehead against his. “Can we snuggle? All these tears made me really tired..”

Chan chuckles and pulls you off the ground with him and directs you to lay down, not getting in the bed with you.

“Where are you going?” You ask, a little worried that he’s going to run away again.

“Just getting some water for us, I’ll be right back. Promise.” He gives you a small smile before quickly padding out of the room. You close your eyes and you can hear murmuring from the hallway, but you’re far too tired to eavesdrop on the conversation. A few moments later you feel the bed dip beside you and you open your eyes being met with Chan’s face mere inches from yours.

“Who was that?” You ask Chan sleepily as you pull him closer to you.

“Jisung. He heard us and was worried. I told him we were good.” He hums as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

You both lay in silence, Chan rubbing small circles on your back. 

“You sleepy?” Chan asks as he pulls away to get a better look at your face.

You hum in response, opening your eyes to look at him. He chuckles and places a kiss on your forehead.

“Sleep, baby.” He places another kiss on your forehead. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, Channie.” You say slowly as you nuzzle your head into his chest, squeezing your arms around him, and drifting off to sleep.

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