#i’ve never declined a job offer before

[eaterofghosts]

one of my favorite forms of friendship is people asking me things they could have just googled. idk why, half the time i just google it too, but i’m honored they think to ask me first

[fastandcarlos]

When You Fall Asleep On Him In The Paddock : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

Whenever you fall asleep on Max he always becomes very protective and tries his very best to shield you. He tends to move his arm around you and hold onto you in his side, keeping nice and careful with his movements to make sure that he doesn’t wake you. If anyone dares look at you if you’re asleep with people around you he sends them a firm glare to mind their business, usually wrapping his jumper around you to hide you as best you can and make you that little more comfortable. “I’ve got you,” he would whisper every single time you stirred to assure you that you were alright.

» Charles LeClerc

He actively encourages you to fall asleep when you start yawning at the paddock, because he loves to hold onto you no matter where the two of you are. “It’s alright,” he’d smile whenever your anxious eyes looked at him to make sure it was really alright. Charles would tap his shoulder and invite you to rest your hand, with you unaware of the wide smile on his face above you. He’s happy to sit for as long as you need him to, making the most of your comforting presence holding tightly onto him before having to go out and race.

» Lando Norris

Whenever you fall asleep on him, Lando gets incredibly shy. He knows that people are watching him and preparing their lines to tease him later when you’re out of earshot. He’s happy to take it though as it means that you’re able to rest beside him. When he thinks no one is watching him Lando will lean down and press a kiss against the top of your head or run his hand along the length of your back to help you fall asleep. If he’s honest, he loves the attention he gets when you fall asleep as it means everyone gets to see what a dutiful boyfriend he really is.

» Carlos Sainz

There’s always a bit of worry with Carlos when he sees you falling asleep as he doesn’t want to have to be the one to wake you up when his schedule calls. To start with he’ll try and resist you, but that never usually lasts long as your eyes pleadingly look up at him. “I can’t say no to you, can I?” He huffs, opening his body for you to curl up into his side and close your eyes for a while. Once he sees how cosy you are he knows it’s the right thing to do, even if only half an hour later he has to do the cruel job of slowly shaking you awake again.

» George Russell

When he can tell that you’re getting sleepy George will immediately whisk you off into his drivers room so that you can rest comfortably. He hates people watching you sleep, especially when your head is in his lap, much preferring to give you privacy. George will pull the curtains and make the bed before laying down and letting you tuck into his side. “What about work?” You whisper when you notice him settling down beside you to have a nap himself. “Work can wait,” he reassures you as he wraps his arm around your frame.

» Lewis Hamilton

He has everyone looking after you when you fall asleep, asking some of the staff around the garage to get a pillow and a blanket to make you feel as comfortable as possible. Lewis wouldn’t dare move when you’re asleep out of fear of disturbing you, and has been known to bring meetings to him so that he doesn’t disturb your sleep either. When the pillow arrives he delicately lifts your head and places it under before draping the blanket over you if you’re at one of the chillier races too, happy to let you lay for as long as you need to.

» Daniel Ricciardo

There’s a smug feeling with Daniel whenever you fall asleep on him, like it’s a statement to remind everyone just how happy you are in your relationship. He’s happy to show off the fact that you’re asleep on him and let people see how much of a comfort having him there is for you. If anyone offers to free up a space for you Daniel will decline, he knows that the only thing that you need to help you fall asleep is him. He’d stay there all day if he could whenever you’re asleep, much preferring to be with you then do any of the other boring bits of the job.

» Oscar Piastri

He’s a pretty shy man at the best of times, but you falling asleep on him in the paddock just about tips Oscar over the edge, especially when there’s a camera or two around. As soon as he sees that camera shutter go down he knows exactly what will be on the front pages the following morning, and although he’s anxious about what will come, knowing that you’re resting is all that matters to Oscar. With how hard you’re working he’d let you sleep anywhere, even if it ends up with him being titled as the softest boy in the paddock.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

any feedback, comments or reblogs are always appreciated ✨

[fingertipsmp3]

Just remembered I still need to cancel that job interview I got signed up for against my will

[rileyslibrary]

Hi, this might be a strange request, but could you please do some sort of character analysis, or maybe tell some of your headcanons for the 141 characters??

I’ve been trying to find some, but everything I find is either weirdly out of character or just some sort of weird projection onto the characters 😭

Not strange at all, anon! It just occurred to me that, for a blog dedicated to Ghost, I’ve never done something like this. Also, I understand what you mean, but it’s also important to remember that headcanons are extremely subjective. Maybe the same applies to my case, and someone also finds my headcanons out of character; who knows?

Please note that I can’t say much about the other boys since I’ve only focused on Ghost, so here are some of my headcanons (i.e. that’s how I personally imagine Ghost):

He’s your average, ordinary guy on the outside. Sure, he is stereotypically attractive (tall, beefy, with a deep voice), but so are a billion other people in this world. There’s nothing extraordinary about him, which is precisely what makes him so intriguing.

I like to imagine his personality similarly to how he wears his uniform—layer, under layer, under layer. You want to peel him like an onion; uncover what lies beneath the surface.

He’s extremely pragmatic and values function over form. It doesn’t matter if something looks bad/ugly/weird as long as it gets the job done. If it works, it works.

Moderation gives him a sense of discipline. He wants to control everything that’s within his ability to do so—managing what food he puts in his body, regulating his alcohol intake, handling finances, and even carefully choosing his words. It helps him maintain his sanity, knowing he has control over his life, especially considering what he went through.

He’s also incredibly efficient. He doesn’t waste time on things that aren’t important or beyond his control.

He’s not a gym rat (he doesn’t regard it as a second home), but he’s definitely a regular. The gym owners are familiar with him, though their interactions are brief—maybe they exchanged a few words to renew his membership in the past, but that’s about it.

He tends to stick to the free-weight section at the gym. If it’s crowded, he’ll put on his headphones to tune everything out, but if it’s quiet, he doesn’t bother. While he doesn’t use the machines often, he’ll turn to them occasionally, particularly when he needs more controlled movement.

Warming up before exercising is particularly important to him, and he takes his time to stretch afterwards, usually in an isolated corner of the gym. He never skips leg day.

He is not a flirt. Usually, it’s others who pursue him rather than the other way around. It’s almost like he has it too easy in that department. He doesn’t have to make much effort—he simply goes about his business (occasionally checking his surroundings for potential dangers,) and suddenly, people gravitate towards him. He’s not a fan of this attention but keeps it to himself.

He engages in a flirtatious exchange almost every day with the elderly lady who manages the convenience store in his neighbourhood, though. He often compliments her on her hair and how young she looks and sometimes jokes that if her late husband were still around, he’d have some competition. She, in return, offers him freebies, which he politely declines. However, he sometimes accepts these gestures in exchange for lending a hand with tasks around the store.

His apartment is modest since he travels a lot, yet he considers it his personal haven when he returns to it. He deliberately keeps it free of any traces of his alternate identity. There’s a family photo framed somewhere. Even his dad included. Maybe he considered cutting him out of the picture but decided against it. He wants to be reminded of both the positive and negative experiences that influence his decisions and actions.

He likes to make his own jokes. They mostly come to him when he does something mundane, like cooking, showering, or watching TV. He doesn’t take offence if others don’t laugh at his jokes, though. He simply views them as idiots or lacking a sense of humour.

He opts for public transport only when needed, like during heavy traffic, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He keeps his back against the wall and doesn’t wear headphones since he wants to be aware of his surroundings.

He breaks fights if he stumbles upon them late at night and calls the police. When the officers arrive, he is the first to talk to them and usually scolds them for not getting there faster.

I don’t think he wears his mask when he’s out and about. In my mind, Simon Riley is different from Ghost. If someone manages to connect the dots, he’ll make sure it’s the last time they do so. For him, good people don’t know who Ghost is. Only bad people do.

He wants to extend his sleeve tattoo further up his arm but struggles to find the time to schedule an appointment with his tattoo artist. Yes, he has a trusted tattoo artist.

[highonmarvel]

Hiii cutie-spud!! I have a request...vampire!bucky? I saw you liked vampires, and this potato likes vampires, so maybe we need a good dick down of vampire!bucky, making sure we can never leave him. After all, he found us, loves us like no other can, shouldn't we give our all to him?

🥔 ❤️ u

Warm

hi! oh my goodness! i’ve been a fan of your work for a few months, i’m so excited you know me! i feel like a bit of a celebrity, i can’t lie. thank you so much! i love you! and i’m sorry this took forever—i’m the world’s slowest writer. i really hope you like this, omg—this is my first time doing a request. okay, here we go.

Vampire!Bucky saves you from a car wreck. 18+

Dub/Non Con Warning!

more content warnings here!

You slowly peel your eyes open, and almost immediately regret doing so—even though it’s dark out, the little light there is adds to your headache, worsening the ringing sound in your ears, and a soft, rhythmic thump. You consider closing your eyes again, slumping forward and drifting back off to the sleep, but that beating becomes louder, and more coherent.

“Hey… Hey… Hey…” is all you can make out, a gentle coo lulling you back to sleep, until an arm shoots through glass and a hand grips on the door handle from the inside. You scream and sit up, noting a sharp but dull pain in your neck as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls, still sounding far away and obstructed by the ringing in your ears, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You gasp as the door flies open and a man holds out his arms and coaxes you into them.

Unsure of what’s happening, you fall out of your seat, but he catches you with his strong arms and gentle chants, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s okay…”

You look up at where you had stumbled out from: a car—your car—the front of it squashed against a tree and smoking from the hood.

“My- My car,” you manage to croak as you hold your arms out toward it.

“You had an accident, it’s okay, I’ll call someone, let me just take you back to my place, is that okay?”

You hesitate but even through your hazy mind you manage to remember your phone had died somewhere on the drive down from the mountains—you had been camping with your friends! in a remote area—before the accident. You left before them, and you were all taking the same route back to the city… how could they not have seen you? The ringing in your ears is dying down slightly and your surroundings are eerily quiet—just distant rustling and chirping. It’s dark, and it’s cold, so you must be outside, but you can’t see the moon—you can barely see anything. You look up and can make out just a few stars, the rest of them being covered by long, thin tendrils breaking into the night sky.

Branches. Trees! You’re in the woods.

“Is that okay?” he repeats.

You groggily look up at him and wince as you nod your head. He stands and effortlessly pulls you up with him; you squeal as he wraps a cold arm around your waist and raises you as he stands. Your feet are dangling off the ground for a moment until he gently sets you down, but keeps his hold on your waist. He brings his left arm over to your right and gently raises it to lay across his shoulders.

“There we go, good job,” he praises quietly as he takes a step forward, before asking if you’re able to walk. You take a step with him and sway slightly, head still spinning, but he catches you before you fall away from him and holds you slightly tighter against him.

“I can carry you,” he offers. You decline.

“You don’t seem like you have any major injuries—thank God—but you’re…” he slows down and drops the hand you have draped over his shoulders. He brings his fingers up to lightly touch your temple, to which you wince, “Sorry,” he mumbles, bringing his hand to his eyes, pale finger tips now stained with crimson, “You’re bleeding.”

You can barely make him out in the blackness of the forest and through your slightly blurred vision, but you swear his eyes flash with something… something you can’t name. But you can barely think about it; he swiftly picks your hand up again and starts walking.

It’s not possible to tell how long you were walking, but you can’t say it feels excruciating, your legs aren’t tired from the walk either; and you can’t tell the distance you’ve travelled, as you had just kind of zoned out, letting him do most of the work as you mindlessly pulled along.

But by the time you had reached a cabin, you were starting to regain a better form of comprehension, though your head was still aching.

You were grateful for the warmth of the cozy lodge, by size it was clear he lived alone.

“Thank you…” you say as he sets you down on a brown leather couch and hands you a blanket. You throw the warm cover over your shoulders and hold the corners together in the front as you settle a little more comfortably.

“Bucky,” he finishes for you with a smile.

“Bucky,” you complete your thanks, and give him your name in return.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks, calling over his shoulder as he ducks into a cupboard and begins rummaging around.

“My head’s killing me—apart from that, no,” you respond as he comes up, holding a small first aid kit in hand.

“Guess a concussion,” he says as he sits in a leather seat across from you, setting the bag down on the table next to it, “But here,” he lightly touches your left temple and you jerk away slightly. He pulls back to stare down at his fingers, “You’re bleeding… a lot. I think you need stitches.”

As he spoke he stared at his blood-painted fingers, for some reason making you uneasy. You shift uncomfortably and pull the blanket tighter around you. You lightly clear your throat and say, “I don’t need an ambulance or anything, but we should probably call someone to get my car, and, uhm, they can take me home.”

“I see a lot of you,” he says as he stands. Under the soft, yellow light of the cabin, you’re able to get a better look at him: he’s fair-skinned, tall, and strong with slightly wild hair, and even wilder eyes, fixated on you with a… hunger, like you’ve never seen; not just predatory, nearly inhuman altogether, “A lot of people come up and stay for no more than three days, and their biggest concern? Bears.”

He locks the door.

“When there’s much worse to fear out here.”

You’re unable to speak as he stalks towards you.

“And I’ve watched you, and I like you,” you shift up the couch, trying to put distance between you and him… or, you and… it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, you didn’t seem to be having too good a time,” he sits in the spot you just were and watches you squirm slightly, before he simply places his hand on your ankle and you still, paralysed, “Looked like you wanted to enjoy the scenery, and I kept thinking, ‘She should have come alone.’”

You had wanted to come alone; though you loved Natasha and Yelena, they weren’t much into exploring, preferring to stay at camp around the fire and stick to the set hiking trails, which, absolutely, you enjoyed, but they didn’t want to stray too far from the set paths—though the location was remote, it was by no means unpopular, and everyone pretty much knew the safe places to stay. One night you had taken a stroll, and could have sworn you felt eyes on you.

“Your friends… they seem nice, sweet, even. And they were.”

The way he annunciates sweet. And… they were sweet? You don’t get a chance at exactly comprehending him until he interrupts your thoughts in less than a moment,

“But I know you taste better.”

You gasp and push away further as cold fingers wrap around your ankle, but he’s pulled you down and is on you in a second, hovering above you with a smile; teeth impossibly white with… fangs.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your bleeding temple, pulling back to look at you with red lips. He flicks his tongue out and nearly moans at the taste, still grinning down at you.

Adrenaline coming from you don’t know where, you pull your knee in and punch up hard against his groin. He nearly falls on top to you with a grunt as he clutches his crotch, but you roll aside and tumble to the floor, hastily standing up as you dart for the door, manoeuvring around the coffee table and knocking stuff off the mantle of the fireplace in your rush to get to the exit. Of course he’s faster, blocking the exit and pushing you down.

You shriek as you fall backwards, actually nearly falling into the fireplace, and he lands over you, skilfully sticking out his arms on either side so he doesn’t crash into you. With really nowhere to go but into the fire, you try to shift down underneath him, but he painfully grips your neck and tugs you back up, holding your head just above the fire. You grasp at his grip on your throat with one hand and hold yourself from dropping into the flames with the other, your elbow dangerously close and heating up, and strands of hair coming loose—you wonder how your hair hasn’t caught fire.

“How many men have said they’ll love you forever… and how many really can?” he questions, to which you can barely even hear through your circulation cutting off and the imminent danger of being burnt alive, “You know what I am,” he continues, lowly, dropping his lips to your ear, “You know what I can do.”

When he pulls away, you notice the steel blue eyes you had not known well have turned to a red, and that you feel like you know all too well; eyes that have been watching you.

He swings you down underneath him and you fly through his legs, gasping for air. Your head hits the wooden floor hard and starts up that ringing again.

He lifts you up easily and holds you to his chest. You struggle in his hood as he tries to calm you; “I saved you, remember? I’m not gonna hurt you; I could have left you to die, but I didn’t, see? Because you’re special, so special…”

You’re not sure where he’s walking to until he tosses you onto a bed. You can’t even bounce against the mattress before he’s got a knee between your thighs and has gathered your wrists into one of his hands, holding them above your head. You struggle underneath him, but he still he continues in a gentle voice, “I saved you, you owe me—in fact, this benefits you; I can make you feel good, you need it, angel.”

“Bucky, no,” you say, firmly, but he might as well not have heard it.

He brings his other hand down to rub circles on your thigh.

“You’re warm,” he notes, though you assume just about anything is warmer than him—he’s so cold it burns, like dry ice.

You (nearly) regret wearing shorts when he runs his cold hands up your thighs; you shiver, and not because of the cold.

There’s something so… otherworldly about his touch; it’s foreign, yet so familiar it scares you. He shifts down and lightly grazes his teeth over your thigh. You whimper in anticipation, and he smiles against your skin.

“And you’re soft…”

He does it; his fangs pierce your thigh, and you wince at the sharp sting, but you just can not bring yourself to push him away, or even kick anymore, there’s some primal need to have him, that disgusts you, your body completely betraying you to give up to a man from fiction, old wives tales—that’s all vampires were supposed to be.

But you’ve got one between your legs.

He sucks, yet more gentle than you thought, and not for long, drawing blood from you in short intakes. After just a few seconds he pulls away and looks up at you with red eyes and a grin, exposed sharp teeth stained in a deep crimson.

This is quite literally the most danger you’ve ever been in; there’s no way in fucking hell you could escape a demon from there, from hell.

You press a hand to the thigh he bit, and bring your index and middle fingers up to stare at the two spots, watching as the red dots seep down to your palm with your mouth slightly open. You can not believe what’s happening, panic now really setting in.

It’s so odd, the juxtaposition between his soothing touches and dangerous nature. You’re near hyperventilating when he leans down to your neck. He pushes your hair away and brushes his lips against you, breathing steady, while you stare up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling so fast you’re afraid it may burst. You bring your left hand up to smack him away, but he catches your wrist and softly sets your palm against his cheek.

“Did I scare you?” he whispers, and you can feel him suppress a smile, “I do like my damsels in distress…” he drawls, bringing his lips up to your ear, “But you’ll be okay; I saved you. Remember, honey?”

You press your palm down harder, trying to hurt him, but that just pushes him to kiss your neck. You jerk away and turn over on the bed, but he’s there in a flash, elbow propped up on the pillow, holding his cheek in his propped up hand.

“How many men have told you they’d love you for eternity, and how many really can?”

He raises himself up over you, and now he’s looking ravenous; you’re afraid he will literally devour you. Never breaking eye contact, he rips your shorts straight off, and tosses the torn fabric. He brings a hand between your thighs and lightly drags a cold finger over your slit, wet, to your embarrassment.

You expect him to mock you as he raises an eyebrow, but he quickly drops it and brings his hand up to run down the side of your face.

“It’s okay,” he coos, “You know you need this.”

He’s naked before you realise it, fair skin complementing his six pack and strong arms—you don’t stand a chance. He rips your shirt off, and you gasp at the fabric sliding against your skin, leaving you exposed to the relatively warm air of the cozy cabin, but your nipples still perk.

You manage to look at him: he’s fucking huge.

As if reading your mind, “You can take it,” he assures as he slips your underwear off before lining up with you.

Slowly, he enters you with a low groan, and you gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and grasping at his back, trying to gain some bearings at the intrusion, whimpering. He starts to move at a slow pace, almost like he’s trying to restrain himself, panting as you squeeze around him.

He drops his head to your shoulder, his breathing heavy on your neck as he praises you, “Fuck, you’re so warm… feel so good, you’re doing great for me, angel… doing great.”

He can barely speak through his groans, but either way you can barely hear him, his voice drowned out by your moans as he thrusts into you at a steady enough pace, but still you can hardly take it; this is a different kind of pleasure—as he hits you in just the right spot again, and again, and again—but you can’t figure out why, and you don’t even care, breathing hard as you dig your nails into his back.

He presses his lips back to your neck, and your nerves scale up for a second when he starts harshly sucking, but only to leave a hickey, for sure.

“Bucky,” it’s such a broken plea you wonder if you even got his name out coherently.

“Can you come for me? Can you do that?”

He brings a hand down to circle your clit as his breathing becomes ragged and thrusts harder.

“I- Fuck!” you cry as you convulse, back arching up as you clench down on him. Seconds later he reaches his high, cursing as he comes inside of you, trying to catch his breath with a smile on his face, admiring your wrecked state.

“Good girl,” he breathes, “You did so well, angel.”

You try to turn over, but he grips your hip and pushes it back down, forcing your body to face back up at him.

“I can last forever.”

✪

[obsessedelusional]

religious trauma but make it gay

masterlist

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x fem!Reader

summary ✦ Bella was your childhood best friend. The one person you felt like you could tell anything. So you do exactly that, coming out to them when you two were still young. Only for Bella to push you away. What happens when they show up at your work several years later?

word count ✦ 3,500ish

authors note ✦ I’m so in love with Bella Ramsey and there’s barely nothing out there. So I took it upon myself lmao hope y’all enjoy!!! Also I’ve never written for a real person so I hope this ok request for Bella open bc I’m a simp rn

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

several years ago

“I think I’m gay.” You admit to your childhood best friend, Bella. The two of you sat in the school yard, parked under a tree.

“What?” She asks, forcing you to repeat the statement you’ve been trying to find the courage to say for months now.

“I think I like girls.” You further explain.

“That’s a sin. You can’t like girls.” Bella spits, bringing tears to you eyes.

“Bella-“ You say their name, letting the tears fall as they interrupt you.

“It’s a sickness, you can get help. My pastor will know exactly what to do.” She says, entirely seriously. Taking your hands in theirs, you quickly push them way. You can’t believe what your hearing.

“I don’t need help. I needed my friend to be there for me.” You stand up from the floor, overwhelmed by the entire situation.

“I don’t think-“ Bella hesitates.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” Her words tremble like their unsure as they come out.

“I knew you were religious but this takes it to a whole another level.” You croak before leaving Bella sat alone under that tree. Part of you thought they’d come back, apologize to you after some time passed. That never happened, ten years of friendship over because of you opened your mouth about your sexuality. At the time you regretted saying anything at all, wishing you had just kept it bottled up inside.

The worst part was when their mother called a couple weeks after the incident basically outing you, offering your mother her pastors number. To your surprise your mom politely declined, she accepted you fully for who you were. It was a bit awkward at first at home but eventually everything went back to normal. That summer you attended your first Pride Parade and felt so seen that the coming school year you came out publicly. Considering the two of you were in the same grade you still saw them around, although never speaking to them again.

After a few years Bella landed her first huge roll in Game of Thrones, leaving your guys hometown behind. You didn’t have to see her face around anymore. Part of you happy for them but sad you couldn’t be in their life to support them. Only to remember they never supported you when you need them most.

present day

It had been several years since you came out, now living your most authentic life. Since then you had a few relationships, nothing too serious. Normally only lasting a few months before breaking up. You had graduated high school, started college shortly after. You got into the college you’d been dreaming of and the major you always imagined yourself as. Your college was a few hours from your home town so you occasionally saw people from there at your part time job. A couple days a week you were a barista at this cute little coffee shop right on the corner of the busiest street.

“What can I get you?” You ask blindly, going through the motions of a transaction.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other side of the counter asks, causing you to look up from the cash register. Looking up you’re greeted by the girl who you hadn’t seen since that depressing day. The day you lost your best friend.

“I can’t believe you work here.” They say, their voice warm.

“Yup.” You say flatly.

“What can I get you?” You ask, trying to quicken this interaction.

“The film I’m working on is filming just down the street for the next few weeks. I’ve been trying to find you for years, you have like no social media.” They admit, completely disregarding your attempt to not make small talk.

“Can I get you something?” You asks again, uninterested in what they have to say.

“Damn I deserve that.” They sigh before muttering off their order and paying. He walks over to the pick up area and you start making their drink. Every time you look up from your work they’re already staring. You can’t help but look too, they’ve changed so much. You’ve seen things about them online and people from your home town loved to talk about the girl who made it big. Always asking, “Didn’t you used to be friends with Bella?”

Once you’re done with their drink, you walk over to where they stand and set their drink down on the counter.

“Y/N wait.” They plead before you can turn your back to them. Against your better judgment you stop, briefly making eye contact. Saying nothing but signaling with your eyes to speak.

“I’m so sorry. I know what I did was shitty. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day since. While I’m still in town I’d like to apologize better like take you out or something so we can talk.” They explain, almost rambling their words.

“I understand if you don’t want to but here’s my phone number. Consider giving me a call or a text or anything, please.” They smile reassuringly pleading with you one last time, passing you a small folded up paper. They leave the coffee shop, drink in hand. You catch your self watching them leave, mind wandering on what you’re gonna do with their number.

Part of you wants to throw it away. An even bigger part of you wants to find out what would happened if you contacted Bella. Maybe their viewpoints have changed, it’s the least you can hope for. Against your better judgement you slip the small piece of paper in your phone case, deciding you’ll worry about it later. The rest of the work day is slow, painfully slow. Nothing to keep your mind distracted from thinking about Bella.

—

“I should be good, if you’re ready to take off.” Your coworker speaks, disrupting your spiraling thoughts.

“Okay,” is all you can say before rushing to clock out. Grabbing your belongings and thanking your coworker before leaving.

Once home you reach for the folded up piece of paper that’s been living in your phone case all day. You hesitate for a few moments before finally mustering up the courage to open it. All that is reads is their phone number, nothing else. You’re not sure how long your sat there staring at the piece of paper but eventually you decide to just shoot them a text.

you: hey it’s y/n

You don’t hear anything back that night. You stay up later then normal stressing about the entire situation. Imagining that it was all some elaborate set up, Bella’s sat up laughing at how stupid you could be to think that they’d want apologize.

The next morning arrives, your alarm goes off bright and early. You have a long day of classes ahead of you. You rush getting ready, picking out the most basic clothes you own. Not it the mood to try, exhausted from the lack of sleep from Bella’s sudden return to your life.

“Girl you good?” A girl you had always been friendly towards in your nine am class asks. You can never remember her name.

“It’s it that obvious?” You let out an exasperated laugh.

“No offense. Your just usually all dolled up and suddenly you look not dolled up. You just look tired.” She laughs.

“Dolled up?” You ask, curiously. For the first time truly noticing the girl who’s always sat near you.

“Yeah you always got them eye lashes and stuff. Not that you don’t look cute today, you always look cute.” They explain poorly. You can’t help but laugh at their way to describe makeup.

“Too tired this morning. Thanks I think?” You smile, she smiles back before the professor walks in and starts class. For a brief moment you forget about the lack of response from Bella. Too busy thinking about the attractive person who low-key just flirted with you. Only for that to be quickly forgotten when your phone vibrates from your pocket. You slyly pull it out laying it flat on your desk, where the professor can’t see. It is Bella, you catch yourself smiling at her name popping up. Stopping yourself immediately from having that type of reaction.

Bella: hey sorry I didn’t respond sooner super late work day only to wake up even earlier to work some more but I have tomorrow off so can we please get together

You decide you’ll respond but make them wait, not nearly as long as you waited. But you’ll stick it to them, make them wait till your out of class. The rest of the period is spent mentally drafting your response. Are you really after all these years ready to meet up with Bella? Maybe.

When class is over you shove all your belongings your bag, rushing to leave so you can send your text. Only to be stopped by that girl from before.

“What class do you have next?” She asks.

“Uhm,” You have to think about it for a moment too distracted by the phone burning a hole in your pocket.

“English in Butcher Hall at one.” You blurt out once you can remember. Normally you either go back to your dorm, grab lunch or study in the library. Today you had planned on going back to your dorm, knowing you weren’t going to be capable of studying.

“Dope. You wanna get lunch or something? I don’t have class till 1 too.” They explain, a smile on their face.

“Oof,” You say aloud, regrettably. The laugh almost as if they’re confused.

“I totally would but I got stuff I have to do before my next class.” You explain, sort of lying. Unsure why your lying just so you can hurriedly respond to Bella.

“That’s fine. Another time maybe?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile before walking off, back to your dorm room. They wave goodbye as you leave. When your out of their reach, you pull your phone out and type your message.

you: tomorrow works, I have one class in the morning. I’ll be done around noon. After that is ok

bella: sounds good wanna grab lunch at one?

you: yeah

Bella responds in a short time, sending you the address of a restaurant you never heard of before. You decide not respond anymore, deciding that any talking that needs to be done can be done tomorrow.

—

You had woken up early enough to actually get ready today. Or “dolled up” as the girl from your class would say. Thankfully you didn’t have that class with her today, knowing you couldn’t handle that along with all that is already going on.

After class, you walk quickly back to you dorm. Using the hour you have to dress cuter, fixing up your makeup. Mentally preparing yourself for the conversation that is about to be had. You pull up the address Bella gave you and it’s a cute little Italian restaurant. That’s always been your favorite, for long as you can remember. You wonder for a moment if they remember or if it’s just a coincidence. The drive is short, too nervous to listen to music. Letting your inner dialogue fill the silence. You park near the front door, looking down at the clock on your dash and you have a few minutes to spear. You phone goes off and it’s Bella.

bella: I’m here just let the hostess know your here to see me

All of a sudden it all starts to feel real. Your going to be having lunch with Bella after several years of no contact after coming out to them. It’s not too late to back out, you think for a moment. You have too though, you’ve made it this far. It’s a quick walk from your car to the door, you let yourself in. Greeted by a girl at the hostess desk.

“Hello!” The hostess beams.

“Hi I’m here to meet with Bella.” You explain.

“Right this way,” She smiles grabbing a menu and leading you towards the back of the restaurant where it’s more secluded. Pass the view of the back of the hostess head you can see Bella sat, scrolling through their phone. The sight of them biting their nails, puts some of your worries at ease. Knowing that they’re just as nervous makes this a little easier. Bella looks up from their phone, smiling brightly at you when they notice you.

“You still like Italian?” They ask.

“Yeah I do.” You smile because they remembered.

“I’m so glad you actually showed up.” Bella says examining you.

“After what I did I always thought you’d want nothing to do with me forever.” They explain, you quickly notice them fiddling with the table cloth.

“I’m so sorry.” They say now with a bit of sadness to their voice. Your not entirely ready to forget what happened but the sight of them is tempting you to forgive them on the spot.

“You know you haven’t grown much?” You tease as an attempt to lighten the situation.

“What?” They ask confused.

“You’ve always been so short and that hasn’t changed. You’ve cut all your hair off, I like it.” You let out an awkward laugh.

“We’ll when everyone is old and looks old I’ll still look young.” They laugh, you can tell they’re finally beginning to relax.

“Plus in my line of work it’s a plus. I can continue to play younger roles as I age.” They explain. Which leads to you asking them what they’re in town filming for. The conversation begins to flow smoothly, smiles never leaving either of your faces. You two order and wait for the food to come over. When the conversation eventually lulls, Bella’s face is screaming like she has something she wants to say but can’t get it out. You eyes dart to their fingers that anxiously fidget with the utensils in from of them.

“It’s okay,” You reassure them resting your hand on theirs. You feel them relax under your touch.

“I’m gay.” They spit out.

“Really?” You ask.

“Which is why I reacted the way I did when you told me. I’ve always had feelings for… women. I was raised to believe that it was wrong. I struggled internalized homophobia for years only recently coming to terms with my sexuality. I was so scared at the time.” Bella admits, your hand still rests on theirs. They look to you like they’re waiting for a response.

“I forgive you.” You respond.

“I would of done this sooner. Your just not the easiest person to find.”

“It’s fine Bella. Just promise we’ll stay in touch now, okay?”

“I promise.”

—

They did exactly that. For the rest of their time in town, when ever your schedules aligned you two we’re together. Or they would find any excuse to leave set and stop by for a quick visit when you were working. Getting to know each other all over again, you couldn’t help it forming a crush on them. They made you so happy, the most comfortable you felt around someone in forever. You finally got your Bella back.

Only for her to have to leave you after a few weeks. Her film was moving locations so they’d be several hours away. It was only for a month but you were so torn up about it. They had promised as soon as that month was over, they’d be back in your home town and visiting you as much as possible.

It was a bit awkward when that girl form your class kept making the moves on you. One day your finally let them down gently. It was entirely because of the slight chance with Bella you thought you might have.

You finally got your Bella back only to have separate again. This time though, you were friends. That month was spent on face time calls when ever you got the chance. Always waking up to good morning texts and not going to sleep until you two had a chance to talk on the phone. You can’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. Always checking you phone, biggest smile on your lips. All because of Bella.

—

one month later

“I missed you.” Bella says, wrapping you in a hug. Their head resting in your shoulder, breathing in your aroma.

“I missed you, more.” You tease. You feel them laugh in your embrace before pulling away.

“I may have got me an air bnb for a week or so.���

“Really? I thought this was just a weekend kind of thing.” You say, biting your lip trying your best not to smile too hard. Originally you couldn’t help but be upset when Bella flight was delayed, their 10 am arrival turned into 5 pm. You had thought half your time with them was wasted.

“We’ll you were wrong.”

“I’m glad.” You laugh, following them to your car. Helping them load their luggage. Bella pulls up her maps app and types in the location of the air bnb. You drive, listening to Bella talk about everything that had happened in the last month of filming.

“You’re so cute when you talk about your job.” You respond, letting the word cute slip out.

“What do you mean?” They ask.

“You’re cute. Do I really need to elaborate?”

“I guess not.” They smile. The rest of the car ride is filled with a comfortable silence.

Eventually you two arrive at their temporary home for the week or so. You help Bella unload and follow them to the door, watching as they unlock the lock box that has the house key inside. They open the door for you, you walk inside.

“Wow this place is so nice.” You awe at the beauty of the living room.

“You think this is nice? Come look at the back yard.” Bella leads you to the back yard, it’s so beautiful. Plants everywhere and jacuzzi, wishing suddenly you had brought a swim suit.

“Wow.” You say aloud, noticing the large hanging chair. Big enough for multiple people. It hangs over the deck, with the perfect view of the nature behind the house. Without hesitation you climb into the hanging chair, Bella watches you amused. You let out a screech when it move from your weight. Eventually you fall on your back, looking up at the stars. Bella continues to watch you, enjoying the view of you enjoying yourself.

“Are you not going to join me?” You speak up.

“I guess so.” You laugh at their attempt to climb up, their attempt causing it to swing and sends Bella landing closer to you than they had originally intended. When you didn’t pull away, they didn’t either. The two of you, sit in silence staring up at the starry sky. Eventually Bella is the one to break the silence.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up on your elbows so you can see them better. They begin speaking, not daring to look at you.

“I said I knew Ialways had feelings for women. Like I always knew I liked women. The truth is I had feelings for you. When you said you were gay, I freaked out because my feelings for you could of become a reality. I think that’s the real reason I pushed you away. I knew I couldn’t be in your life as just a friend but also that I wasn’t ready to be out. I don’t if that makes sense and know I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” Bella finally gains the courage to look at you after their words.

“It’s okay.” You smile, biting you lip. Thinking this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bella asks.

“Not at all. The real question though, are those feelings still there?” You ask, curiously. Your tone a little flirty.

“They’ve always been there. Bumping into you only reignited them. Then you actually said yes to meeting up with me, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” You laugh before closing the space between you two. Letting your lips kiss Bella’s for the first time. It takes them a moment to fully register what’s happening, shortly kissing you back. Their hands reach for your head pulling you in closer. You’re the one to pull away, needing to catch your breath. That only lasts a few moments before they’re the one initiate the second kiss. The two of you spend a few hours on the hanging chair. Kissing, laughing and talking about anything and everything. Only going inside because it began to rain. That night you guys stayed up so late, some time around 3am Bella asked you to be their girlfriend. You said yes.

[catiecat1320]

Very proud to announce that I am participating in the Sonic the Hedgehog Big Bang (@sthbigbang)!!

Thank you to my wonderful artists, @lofithetanuki, @therealsinnohdawn, and @sleepingcircus; as well as a thank you to my beta reader @thesummoners!! I <3 you all!!

[MasterPost]

Summary:

Shadow has never been the kind to think of himself as special. Aside from a talent for music, he’s just your typical guy. Nothing more, nothing less.

That is, until he meets Sonic. Until something about the unremarkable him catches the eye of the world famous solo dancer. Until he’s offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with a legend. 

There’s so much more to the star than he could have ever imagined. There’s so much more to himself that he never knew. And there’s so much more between them that blooms in the time they spend with each other, beautiful, foreign, and absolutely hectic.

Standing in the face of chaos, the only logical step is to find a rhythm to dance to.

Chapter 1 Below 🔽

“And… I think that’s all I have planned for today,” Shadow announced, idly stretching before gently lowering the piano lid. “10 minutes of an early end. Nice job, Cream, as always.”

His protege beamed, her wide grin proudly displaying the gap of a missing tooth. He chuckled as she tapped out a happy little jingle on the piano in celebration, the sound reverberating throughout the pastel room.

Mere moments later, a soft knock sounded, and Cream hurried to let her mom in. 

“Are you finished your lesson?” Vanilla asked, carefully closing the door behind her.

“Yeah!” The bunny exclaimed, “how’d you know?”

Her mother patted Cream’s head, though her attention seemed to be elsewhere. “Well, sweetheart, you always play that tune when you’re done.” She then turned to Shadow, bowing her head slightly as if she were apologetic. “May I have a word with you?”

He nodded, curiosity perking in his ears as he shifted his shirt collar. “Of course, Mrs. Vanilla.”

“Please, just Vanilla is fine,” she remarked, smiling at his formality. She seemed nervous, he noticed, tense. “I need a favor. I’ve already scheduled Cream’s next lesson, as you know, but yesterday she… Cream, why don’t you share the news? You’re practically bouncing off the walls.”

Her mother’s comment was definitely accurate— if felt as if one little tap would send the bunny zipping around the room. “I won a dance competition! And they gave me tickets to see Mr. Sonic!” Cream piped, vibrating with excitement. Shadow pretended to know who she was talking about as the gears turned in his head.

“That’s… great. I’m so proud of you,” he picked her up in a congratulatory hug before turning his attention back to her mother. “I’m assuming that this event coincides with the lesson? If so, canceling it is no problem.”

“Mr. Shadow, Mother has an appointment when it happens,” Cream interjected, grasping his hand before he could fully let her go, as if by some magical power, her thoughts would translate through the touch. Vanilla only nodded, allowing her daughter to lead.

“Oh, you want me to take you, don’t you,” the hedgehog realized, his response laced with teasing undertones. “And if I don’t?”

“Pretty please?” Cream locked gazes with him, face morphed into a painting innocent and pleading. Caramel eyes grew big and glistening, a deep pool that threatened to drown him should he decline. Shadow twitched involuntarily at the display. 

“Don’t give me that face. I’m just joking— of course I’ll take you,” the tutor breathed, and that seemed to satisfy the bunny enough for her to tuck away the act for another day.

Vanilla breathed a sigh of relief, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder in silent acknowledgement of her effective (although slightly questionable) communication skills. “Thank you so much, Shadow.”

“No problem at all.”

………………………………

Cream’s little hand wrapped around Shadow’s fingers, gloved in protection against the chilly February air. The kid skipped along the line, dragging her chaperone with her, hyperactive from the sugar in the donuts he should not have bought her.

That pleading act was just too convincing…

The auditorium was crowded with fans young and old, most settled down in their places a long time ago. Although it was expected with how late they were in the acceptable entry frame, it posed a problem as the pair awkwardly scooted past the legs of the already seated, many scoffing in annoyance as he waved in apology.

Somehow, they made it to their spot before Cream exploded from anticipation, and soon the overhead lights went dim, shushing the audience. Different lights switched on, one after another, highlighting the stage in all kinds of pretty colors that seemed to captivate everyone but Shadow.

He really should have found out what this show was about beforehand, huh? Sorely regretting putting off the task in favor of an unnecessary house cleaning, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. That blinding rainbow cascade was going to give him a headache. Glancing at Cream to make sure she hadn’t bounced out of her seat, he reached over to take her already shed jacket before working at his own. The building was heated quite nicely, so he folded them neatly and put them aside for the time being.

By the time he was done, a soft melody had already begun playing— violin, Shadow recognized, partnered with a quiet piano. The song was unfamiliar to him, but having grown up in a world of music, he’d developed a deep understanding of it, and having that knowledge helped him relax. His fingers flitted upon an imaginary instrument, picking apart the tune as the sounds filtered through his mind. 

Beside him, he felt Cream go completely still, a sharp contrast to the excited jumble she had been seconds ago. In fact, it felt like the whole room was holding its breath. A little suffocating, in all honesty, but he followed the general example and looked up.

Just in time. Right then, a lithe figure sprang onto center stage, striking a deeply bowed pose in time with a dramatic thrum. All eyes focused on him at once, everyone shifting forward in unison as if connected by one single mind. Shadow just squinted, unimpressed.

A blue hedgehog, dressed up all prim and pretty in something that seemed like it would be awkward to wear, he assumed that the dancer was the “Mr. Sonic” Cream had been so ecstatic to see. As multicolored lights swirled around them, Shadow couldn’t deny that there was a certain air of elegance to them that almost seemed magical. Yet he could not understand what the big deal was.

That is, until Sonic moved, along with a sharp crescendo in the melody, gracefully gliding across the stage akin to a figure skater— there seemed to be no hindrance, no friction, as if he didn’t touch the ground at all. Their eyes were closed as he twisted and twirled, complete confidence that their steps would land and they would be beautiful. 

For once in his life, Shadow didn’t pay attention to the music.

Suddenly they flipped, once, twice, much to the audience’s delight as everyone surged forward in their seats. And even as the dancer landed at the edge of the stage, they never once looked. Never once feared falling, as they maneuvered the border like a tightrope walker, delicately making their way around.

It wasn’t a specific style of dance they were doing, at least, not to his limited knowledge of the art. They were just moving. Yet there was a story hidden behind it all, one that was told without the use of words, but still communicated so clearly that Shadow could understand everything, could feel everything.

It was like magic.

At last Sonic came to a stop, once again at center stage, and dropped into a bow. A beat of silence resounded before the audience cheered, exploding with thunderous claps and shrill whistles. Beside Shadow, Cream grabbed his hand, exclaiming something he could not hear. He could only nod in response, which only kicked off more of the one-sided conversation that he sorely hoped was not important.

On stage, the blue hedgehog shouted something he barely missed, and Cream excitedly tugged at his sleeve. Sonic flashed a bright smile that gleamed in the stoplights, and Shadow swore several people swooned as sparkling emerald eyes passed over them. 

Someone who had gotten up to leave obstructed his view for only a moment… but when they made their way out of the row, he found himself locking gazes with the dancer.

It felt like someone was staring straight into his soul, yet it wasn’t a cold feeling. More warm, like a fire, swirling in his gut. 

Shadow could not, for the life of him, get his body to move.

Sonic winked at him, saluting to the general crowd before disappearing backstage. As he and Cream were caught in the mass of people moving out, he gripped their things tightly in one hand and held on to the bunny with the other, unable to do anything but wonder, what was that?

………………………………

As he found out much too late, Cream had neglected to tell Shadow that they were invited to the Meet & Greet after the show. He figured that was what’d slipped past him among the chaos. Keeping a vise grip on the bunny’s wrist, he followed the rest of the lucky few to a different room. 

It was quieter here than in the auditorium, and much more well lit. He assumed that this was originally a practice room of sorts, repurposed for this mini event. As they filed in a line to spend a few moments with the dancer, Shadow took the opportunity to text Vanilla about the change of plans. Easier said than done, because Cream had reverted to a bouncing ball of energy, and she took every chance to yank him forward in line, startling him every time.

Somehow, he managed to send a less-than-refined message to Vanilla without dropping his phone. But before he even had the time to look up, Cream tore herself from his grasp with a squeak. “Mr. Sonic!” 

“Heya, kiddo,” her idol replied with a grin, patting her head gently. She beamed, introducing herself excitedly, her pitched voice making it hard to decipher her swift speaking. But Sonic seemed to have no problem, answering all her rapid-fire questions like they planned specifically for this moment. 

Shadow let them have their time, picking up the things that had fallen from his arms when Cream had so abruptly pulled away. It was cute, really, the way the two interacted as if they were old friends. The dancer was making a very exaggerated motion to accompany the story that they— he, as per the pronouns displayed on his poster— was telling, his one person audience very engrossed.

Eventually Cream settled down long enough to take a picture, which was then printed and signed for her with a wink. But before they left and let someone else take their turn, Sonic got to one knee and whispered something to Cream that made her face light up like a firework. She somehow yelled and whispered at the same time. “Really?!”

“Would I lie to you?” The dancer grinned, much to Cream’s elation. Shadow sighed softly— he had no idea that she could get more excited than she already was. If this kept going… well, Vanilla was in for a very long night.

He hadn’t realized he was zoning off again until he felt a tug on his sleeve. Cream stared at him with expectant eyes, then cocked her head in Sonic’s direction. 

Shoot. Shadow looked up to see the dancer wearing a lopsided smile. Once he realized that he had the other’s attention, Sonic clapped his hands together. “So! How’d you enjoy the show…?” 

“Mr. Shadow,” Cream helpfully chimed, to which her idol nodded in thanks.

Said hedgehog rubbed his arm nervously, unsure how to respond. He settled for a shrug. “It was okay.”

Emerald eyes sparkled knowingly, although their owner seemed to have a great poker face. “Well, take care of little Cream here,” he patted her shoulder, to which she perked, again, “she’s got lots of potential.”

“Mhm.” That he knew. Who better than her teacher to assess her skill? Sonic’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, indicating the want for something more. Panic began mottling in Shadow’s stomach. Sue him, it was nerve-racking for a famous person to stare you down when you’re already bad at social interaction. What did he need…?

Both people in the room were staring at him now, the awkward silence doing nothing to help his nerves. On instinct, he shifted all his things to one arm and reached out for a handshake— something he found both polite and a good way to end conversations— with a “It was nice meeting you,” for good measure. However, Sonic took it in an entirely different way than he intended.

Soft lips, rosy from the previous exertion, pressed against the back of Shadow’s hand as emerald eyes stared teasingly into his own. Heat flooded tan cheeks instantly, and he clamped his jaw shut before it could fall open. Dimly registering a giggle from Cream, he was much too caught up in the fact that Sonic was kissing him.

Who the hell did that anymore?

Sonic straightened once more, the moment over as fast as it began. Yet somehow it felt as if hours had passed. The dancer was either oblivious to Shadow’s mental meltdown or he just didn’t care, bouncing on the balls of his feet like there was nothing wrong as he winked, giving a mock salute similar to the one he’d left the audience with. “It was nice to meet you too, Shadow. ‘Til we meet again!”

Shadow made a sound like he was being strangled, only serving to deepen his embarrassment along with the furious bloom of blush on his face. Somehow, he managed to keep a grip on everything tucked under his arm, despite it going slack in shock.

Before he could properly process everything, or even save himself some face, he and Cream were already outside, Shadow fumbling with his keys as he tried to get a hold on the one for his motorcycle.

Sometime in the building, amongst his memory lapse, they’d both put on their coats, leaving the bunny with one arm hooked around her chaperone’s. She was staring, caramel eyes worried. “Are you okay, Mr. Shadow?”

No.

“Yes. Now hop on, your mother’s waiting.”

[bloatedandalone04]

In which Leon reconnects with his mom - Too Close One Shot.

“If you need more time, that’s okay,” you say quietly as you rest your chin on Leon’s shoulder. “You know that, right? No pressure.”

Leon stayed in his seated position at the end of your shared bed. God, he loved how you shared pretty much everything in this house, your house. Yours and his. Deciding to decline Chris’ offer and buy a house near the beach was one of the best decisions of his life, the first one being his acceptance of the job of working for your dad that allowed him to meet you. 

He leans back against the front of your body, his eyes closing as you begin to gently massage his shoulders. “I know,” he hummed and leaned further back to be able to run the tip of his nose along the edge of your jaw. “But I think I’ve waited long enough. She deserves closure.”

You nod and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as you murmured a quiet, “Yeah,” you smoothed down the fabric of his shirt as he turned his head to look down at his phone, the seven digits and call button staring back up at him. “Do you want to do this alone?” You offered and shifted so you were able to stand up. 

Leon shook his head, “No,” he mumbled and grabbed your wrist, gently tugging you back onto the bed. “Stay, please. I want you to be here for this or else I might talk myself out of it.”

You laugh quietly and press another kiss to his cheek before returning to your spot behind him. “Okay,” you say softly then add, “Are you ready?” 

Leon nodded and took your hand in his before he clicked on the call button and brought the phone up to his ear. You rested your cheek against his back as you listened to the low hum of the ringing sound as he waited to see if she would even pick up. 

As it got to the third ring, Leon turned his head so he could glance back at you with a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. “I knew this would happen,” he muttered. “If she doesn’t recognize the number, she won’t pick up.”

You smile and shake your head, pressing a kiss to his shirt covered shoulder. “Something about that sounds familiar,” you teased, referring to all the times he told you to never answer numbers you don’t recognize. 

He laughed quietly at that, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Maybe I’ll call again later-”

As soon as he went to hang up he heard the distant sound of his mother’s distinct voice as she answered after the fourth call. “Hello?” 

Leon froze at the all too familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in years. 

You heard her, too, and pulled away from him with a quiet squeal and a light shove to his back. “I knew she’d pick up,” you say before grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand up so his phone was next to his ear again. “Talk to her.”

He gave you a small smile of disbelief before opening his mouth to talk to the one person who made his childhood bearable, all while keeping his hand locked with yours. “Hi, mom,”

-

Leon was stressed out. After having nearly a two hour long phone call with his mother, a plan for her to visit was scheduled for the end of the week. 

The days passed by in a blur, and though he tried to hide how nervous he was, you saw right through him. Of course you did. After living together for a couple of months and being together for over a year, you were able to read him like an open book, much like he could with you. 

On the day she was set to visit, Leon had spent most of the morning on the beach, running along the shore in an attempt to calm his nerves. He, regretfully, hadn’t seen his mother in years, and the fact that he would be greeting her in his own home in a few hours felt surreal. 

He had so much to talk about, so much to say to her, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it all out during the three days she would be spending with him. One thing he knew he would leave out was his job, and he knew you wouldn’t say anything about it, either. 

She didn’t need to know what he did for a living, but everything else was fair game.

It was nearing noon when he finally returned home and found that you had cleaned damn near every single room. It was then when he realized that you, too, were nervous to see his mom. 

After a quick shower, he dressed himself in a black tee and dark blue jeans, taking after your casual outfit of black tights and a cropped tank top. 

She would be arriving any minute now, and both you and Leon were standing by the front door. Well, he was standing - leaning, actually, on the frame that connected to the living room - and you were pacing. He watched you with an amused smile on his lips, the smile only growing when you turned to face him. “Are you as nervous as I am?” 

Leon shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think so,” he answered and you whined as you stepped towards him. 

“What if she doesn’t like me? What if I’m not what she wants for her only son? Her only child?”

He reached out when you neared him and pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Baby, she’s going to love you,” he assured you and grinned when he felt you relax against him. “She’ll probably love you more than me, seeing as I’m the one who shut her out for a decade.”

You sighed and wrapped your arms around his middle. “I’m sure she understands why you left,” you murmur, pressing your cheek against his chest. “Your dad is to blame for that.” You didn’t know much about all that Leon endured during the years he spent at home with his parents, but you did know that the first time he had ever felt physical pain was at the hand of his father. 

Leon forced out a laugh, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I guess we both had really fucked up fathers growing up.”

The topic of your dad was still a sore one, so he didn’t bring up his old boss more than he needed to. He knew you missed him, despite how things went down the last time you saw him, but you assured him that you were better off staying far away from the man who kept so much from you.  

“Tell me about it,” you say and open your mouth to continue the conversation, but shut it quickly when the sound of knocking was heard next to you. “She’s here.” You step away from him and stand off to the side as Leon hesitantly approaches the door. 

You give him a comforting smile when he turns to glance back at you, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Before he could talk himself out of it, Leon pulled the door open and was met with the gracefully aged face of his mother. Her blonde hair was a few shades lighter than it was ten years ago, and her green eyes sported years of fatigue, but still held a glimmer of light he saw in them during his childhood years.

She hadn’t faded away completely, and Leon could’ve cried at the way she smiled at him when he opened the door. Her own eyes filled with tears as she stepped forward and gently placed her hands on his biceps, feeling just how much he had grown up in the years she’s spent away from him. 

He was towering over her at the age of seventeen and had only increased in his height since then. He was almost convinced she had shrunk a few inches as she looked him up and down before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

Leon had to bend down considerably for him to be able to wrap his own arms around her middle. The size difference was undeniable as they embraced, with his body covering hers almost entirely. 

You stay silent as he buries his face in her light hair, your eyes stinging slightly at the sweet reunion. “My, God, you’ve grown,” she observed in a teasing tone and Leon’s breath hitched at hearing his mom’s voice in person again. 

“Maybe you’ve just shrunk,” he teased back and held her tighter as she laughed quietly. A few more seconds pass before the pair pull away from one another and take in each other’s appearances. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says back when Leon stepped aside, that was when you were met with the face of the woman who gave life to the single most important person to you. Your mind briefly went back to the first time you had ever seen her, back in his trailer and in the form of a photograph. That same photo was placed on the side table in the hallway that led to your bedroom, while the one with him and his dad was tucked away in a box in the closet. “Well, hello.”

You smile at her and hesitantly wave your hand. “Hi,”

Leon wraps his arm around his mom’s shoulder, similar to the way he had it draped around her in the picture that was taken when he was still a teen. “Mom, this is Y/n,” he introduced you. “The love of my life.”

You blush at that as you extend your hand out to her. “It is so unbelievably nice to meet you,” you start as she steps towards you. “I’ve been pestering him about this for a while now, so to finally meet you is-”

She cuts you off by wrapping her arms around you. You stand still for a second or two, completely speechless at the feeling of her warm embrace. You thought back to all the times your own mother hugged you, the way she made you feel so loved and safe. Those feelings came flooding back to you as you returned the hug, meeting Leon’s eyes from over her shoulder. 

Your eyes burned once again as you blinked back tears, refusing to be the first person to cry in this situation. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said quietly as she pulled back and gave you a kind smile, one that mirrored all the ones Leon flashed at you during the time you’ve been with him. “Thank you for helping bring us back together.”

Shaking your head, you bring your hand up to press against your face as you wipe away a single tear that managed to escape. “Oh, I can’t take credit for that,” you dismiss her words and drop your hand, missing the way her eyes followed it all the way down and lingered on the ring on your finger. “He’s been wanting to reach out to you for a long time now, I just gave him a bit of support, that’s all.”

His mom stared at your hand for a few more seconds before meeting your eyes once again. “Thank you all the same,” she smiled and you returned it before looking behind her. Leon had been watching the whole exchange with a content grin on his lips, his heart full at the sight of his two favorite people getting along so well. 

“Um, I’ll go make drinks or something,” you offer and step past her, your hand reaching for Leon’s as you approach him. “Let you two catch up.”

Leon gently squeezed his hand in yours until it fell from his grasp as you made your way to the kitchen. “Do hurry back,” his mom called out after you. “I want to hear all about the woman who stole my son’s heart.”

After that, Leon led her into the living room. They sat across from each other on the adjacent armchairs as they talked about everything and anything that came to mind; what he’s been up to since he moved out, his newfound hobbies, Harvey - anything, really.

While his mom was curious as to how the two of them met, seeing as Leon left that out when he mentioned his close friend, she was glad he found someone he could rely on and who would be there, and has been there, for her son.  

A moment of silence goes by before he asks the question that had been plaguing his mind since the minute she arrived. “You’re still with dad,” he nodded towards her left hand, where her gold engagement ring and wedding band rested on her finger. 

“I am,” she confirmed and folded her hands on her lap. “I know you two never got along, but he’s been in my life since I was fifteen. It’s hard to let someone you’ve known for so long go.”

Leon shrugged and gave her a semi-forced smile. “I get it,” he said before asking, “How’s he doing?” 

His mom sighed before leaning back in the chair. “He’s really smartened up in the years you’ve been gone,” she started, her tone quiet as she relived the first few months she spent without Leon after he left. “I think he thought you weren’t serious when you said you were leaving. He didn’t believe that you were really gone until a few months went by, and then it hit him. He drank so much one night and ended up passing out on your bed, completely wasted. It must’ve dawned on him when he woke up that you were never coming back, and I haven’t seen him touch an ounce of alcohol since.”

His dad giving up drinking? Leon thought he’d never see the day that would happen. Well, he supposed he had yet to see it actually happen, as the last time he set his eyes on his father was when he was five bottles deep into a pack of eight. It was only twenty four hours after that when he left.

He wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled on just nodding. 

Luckily, his mom was great at changing the subject. “But enough about that old man,” she waved off her previous words and leaned forward, holding her hand out to him. “Tell me all about your Y/n.”

Leon felt his face heat up at the mention of you, and he reached out to allow his mother to grab his hand. “She means everything to me,” he nearly whispered as he refused to meet her eye. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before in my entire life. I feel like I can’t breathe whenever we’re away from each other. I’m pretty sure I’d find a way to give her the world if she asked for it.”

His mom smiled at that, a warm feeling filling her heart as she listened to him. “Sounds like you found the one who makes you happy,” she replied quietly. “I saw the ring.”

Leon lifted his head at that and watched as a knowing look formed on her face. 

“Tell me about it,” she grinned as she sat back. “How did it all go down? Did you do some big grand gesture? Did you take her out to a fancy restaurant? Cook her favorite food?”

Leon’s face fell as she listed the various proposal ideas, realizing that his wasn’t nearly as romantic as any of those. He was sure you were content with the way he proposed, or else you wouldn’t have said yes, but he found himself wishing that he could’ve given you a better memory of it, whether that be by a grand gesture or putting aside his inability to cook to make you your favorite food.

Giving her an embarrassed smile, he shook his head. “No, nothing at all like that,”

She nodded once and leaned closer to him. “So..”

“Um,” he pulled his hand from hers and sat back, scratching the back of his neck as he replayed his proposal in his head. “It wasn’t really romantic at all. It kind of just happened.”

She raised her brow as she gestured for him to continue, not understanding how the two of you just randomly came to be engaged.

“Well, she came over to my trail-house, one night,” he cleared his throat before continuing, hoping she didn’t catch on to his slip of words. Another thing she didn’t need to know about was his prior living situation. That was for another time. “She had gotten into an argument with her dad and came to me for comfort as he said some things that really upset her. I was holding her and then I just realized that every minute I spent with her could be the right moment to ask her to marry me, so I did it then.”

His mom raised both brows as a teasing grin formed on her lips. “That’s my boy,” 

It was then when you finally came out of the kitchen, balancing three mugs in your arms. “I didn’t know what you like, but Leon mentioned something about green tea once, so I just went off of that,” you say with a laugh as you hand her the mug. “I hope that’s okay, Mrs. Kennedy.”

She took it from you with a grateful smile. “That’s perfect,” she said. “And, please, Grace is just fine. Though, I see I won’t be the only Mrs. Kennedy in the family for much longer.” She gestured to your left hand as Leon tugged on your hips and guided you backwards to sit on the armrest of his chair. 

You blush as you sit down and hand Leon the second mug, his being a simple black coffee you still couldn’t believe he was able to drink without a problem. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“Congratulations, honey,” she said and held her hand out to you. 

“Thank you, Grace,” you replied as you rested your hand in hers. “I hope you you know just how crazy I am about your son. He’s a really amazing guy, and he’s helped me out of some pretty dark places.”

Grace smiles as she watches Leon wrap his arm around your waist. “He is quite amazing, I agree,” she says and takes a sip of the tea before setting it down and sitting back against the chair. “Now, tell me about how you two decided on this beautiful house. I can tell you right now that Leon had no input on how it’s been decorated as he has never had one interior designing bone in his body.”

Later, after the three of you got comfortable in the living room and put on a movie that Leon and his mom used to watch when he was a kid. Grace was settled on the recliner, while you and Leon were sprawled out on the couch, a blanket thrown over your bodies. Your back was pressed to his chest and his arms were wrapped around your middle, your fingers laced together and resting on your stomach. 

He couldn’t think of a time when he had felt this content and happy. He had his mother back in his life and she got along so well with you and treated you the same way she treated him all his life. He could tell that having a motherly figure back in your life was a lot to handle at first, and he was sure his mom reminded you of yours, but you didn’t show her any signs of hostility or made her feel unwelcomed. 

Instead, you invited her into your life with open arms, and he couldn’t be more grateful for you. 

Halfway through the movie, Leon felt your body relax completely against his and he knew you had fallen asleep. The realization had him smiling slightly as he thought back to last night. You had a hard time sleeping and were clearly more nervous about his mom’s arrival than he was, so to discover that you had accidentally dozed off wasn’t all that surprising. 

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head just as his mom turns to glance over at the two of you. She smiles when she sees just how gentle her son is with his future wife, and couldn’t wait to hear more about you the following day. “You found a good one,” she says quietly, not wanting to wake you up. “I like her.”

Grace couldn’t deny how good the two of you looked together. Leon had grown up from an athletic, young teen to a well-built man. She saw a lot of his dad in him, especially in the face. They had the exact same shade of blue eyes, and she remembered the way his dad had a very strong jawline when he was Leon’s age, and Leon had also lost the baby fat in his face to reveal a matured, sharp jawline as well. 

And you…well, you were beautiful and kind and so right for her son. 

Leon meets his mom’s eye, more than happy to have her approval of the girl he had chosen to spend the rest of his life with. “Thank you for coming over, mom,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And thank you for answering.” 

“Thank you for calling,”

After that the movie ended and Leon gently slid himself out from under you. He leads his mom out of the living room and towards the guest room, stopping by the front door to grab her bag for her. He sits with her for a few minutes before they hug one more time, much longer than the one they shared earlier, and say goodnight. 

Once the door was closed, Leon made his way back to the living room, finding you still fast asleep on the couch. He bends down to brush away the fallen strands of hair that covered your face before pressing a final kiss to your forehead. 

He pulls the blanket off you and picks you up with no effort at all, heading towards your bedroom at the end of the hall. You had woken up in the middle of him getting you ready for bed, and allowed him to finish helping you. 

As you lay in bed together, you brush your lips against his as you ask, “Did you have a good day?” 

Leon hummed and pressed his lips to yours in a proper kiss before pulling you against him. “The best,”

-

Stating again that this is based off the events that took place in the Too Close series <3 | This is not a stand alone imagine.

[atrueneutral]

I am curious about what things would be like if Tav never slept with Haarlep. Raphael wouldn’t have her form to use to help blow off some steam; he’d be stuck using his own form, the archduchess form, etc.

Do you think it’d still be enough to keep him (barely) satisfied for a while? Would his patience wear faster? Would his desire for his little mouse become overwhelming?

Ohh! A question I’ve never really thought about before as Tav, in my mind, defaults to going to the House of Hope during the events of BG3 and makes The Mistake of sleeping with Haarlep 95% of the time, haha!

Hmm… if Haarlep doesn’t have Tav’s form, and if Raphael is still as infatuated with her after the events of BG3, I could see him being the instigator in seeking her out - his patience and desire running him thin. He’d wait until she completed one or two jobs (not wanting to appear desperate), and his desire would drive him to offer a proposal to her - “a… friends-with-benefits scenario that has a simple, base level contract”. He’d act insufferably non-chalant about the whole ordeal, naturally, when he’s internally ň̷͍̖͖̒͊̐́̿e̴̛̝̍̌̾̂ẹ̷̤̙̲̍͋̔̋̉d̷͖̘͌́̓͜͠į̵̮̯̫̭̱͓̊̍̒͛͝͝ͅņ̷̡̧̰͊͋̂̄͜ͅḡ̶̣͂͊ her to say ‘yes’…

If she has a romantic partner and declines the offer because of that partner, Raphael will have to take things into his own hands, won't he? Plots will be devised and executed.

To expound more on if Raphael does have access to her form through Haarlep, he’s more often than not satisfied with what he’s got. He also gets off on the fact that Tav can feel Haarlep using her, and having access to her body also adds to the fire of his obsession - with Haarlep taking ample opportunity to act like Tav (they do their best with what they know of her, and they’ve heard a lot, but everything is sexually charged, of course).

In these cases, it’s happenstance that eventually brings Raphael to seek out Tav, or vice-versa, and everything picks up from where they left off after BG3.

[acupofqueercoffee]

“So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me”

Lady Lesso x Ever Reader

cw : soulmate au // blood and injury // angst and hurt comfort // fluff // bffs lesso x dovey // age gap // older woman x younger woman

wc : 5500 ish

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/42983871

I love the fact that we are all collectively simping for Lady Lesso. Everywhere I go, I see her. Also, is it just me or does it make you incredibly happy when someone you’ve followed for some other women you love began posting contents of this new woman that you’ve just fallen for? No? Just me? Ok.

Fyi, the title is from Ben L’Oncle Soul version of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve got you under my skin

You have always deemed your parents the quintessence of the vows “in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health”.

There has been a period of time where your jovially energetic mother has peculiarly lost her enthusiasm.

One of the first few signs is exhaustion. The woman who used to be on her feet all day with gusto, executing a whirlwind of tasks about the house, would become short of breath with only a handful of movements.

Then, comes heart palpitations, which eventually lead her to collapse in bed. When it happens, your father has been there for her, taking the houseworks upon himself on top of his own workload. Along with you, your father would take your mother to see a physician before he would, then, have to continue on to his job.

He has to burn the candle at both ends, juggling between his work and taking care of his wife. You help as much as you can, but still, bigger responsibilities fall on your father’s shoulders. Tirelessly, he works day in and day out, never complaining one bit.

The silver lining to it all is that your mother’s case is not so much a decline in health than an ailment, so after a few days of taking prescribed medicines coupled with bed rest, the jovially energetic woman makes her spirited return.

As it so happens, your father comes home one day with a flu, and despite exercising social distancing amongst the three of you, the whole family unfortunately falls prey to the disease.

Whilst recovering however, in the death of one night, the town officials appear on your doorstep, taking your father away on the grounds that he has to be interrogated for an alleged crime.

In the morning, he does not return home. Nor does he within the next day. Eventually, a day melts into two, three. Then, days grow into a week. A week becomes weeks.

Your mother has not been sitting idly by during all that time; she contacts her husband’s friends, does everything within her capability to get even a trace of his news.

Your father is a real people person. If there is one thing he has in abundance, it is friends, and they are good friends, offering to help in any way they can, and indeed, consistently helping your mother in pursuing news of your father’s whereabouts.

The painstaking efforts have had no luck so far, until after having no traces whatsoever of him for a whole month, you and your mother are finally informed of the news that he will be put on trial.

As it turns out, your father has been unfairly accused of a crime that he has not committed, and subsequently detained for it.

You and your mother have gone to meet him a couple of times already, and the both of you are pleased and relieved to find that he is doing well, cheeks getting chubbier and appearing as radiant as ever.

You find the whole ordeal but a testament to their unyielding love for each other.

There have been inevitable arguments between the two of them. But, it is, you suppose, what makes their connection, all the more admirable. Getting to grips with disagreements and surmounting obstacles hand in hand, they nurture their imperfectly perfect tale with conflicts and reconciliations, cries and apologies, curses and sweet nothings.

“After all, what is love without a little pain?”

Your mother has said to you one evening, sitting on the porch and knitting a hat for her dearest husband.

“Your father, he is my one true. People usually say that you will see it. But, my darling girl, mama has to disagree. When you find them, you will feel it.” Her palm rests on your chest. She smiles, drops her voice to a whisper as if what she is about to say is confidential. “In here.”

And indeed, feel you do as soon as your eyes behold her.

Funnily enough, the fated encounter comes as a by product of chasing after your cat, Eclipse for she has midnight sky for fur. After running after her all over the Great Lawn like a headless chicken, you find her sitting curiously at the feet of someone.

Up until this point, you have been in a single-minded pursuit of your cat that everything else has been a blur. Yet, by the time you stand up after gathering your beloved furball in your arms, you are enthralled by the vision before you, so enthralled in fact that you do not realise the proximity of your bodies.

How curious, you muse, that you are bombarded with a queer indecipherable feeling, as if a piece of you, that you do not realise has been missing, has returned to you at long last.

“Get that repulsive thing away from me.”

A voice, rich and smokey, jostles you out of your musings, a tip of a cane landing atop your chest to push you away.

Her lips are pulled tight into a scowl, you notice, and the only thought whirling around your empty head is that this woman is absofuckinglutely captivating, very much the epitome of handsome and gorgeous combined.

And then, before you can formulate a response, she is gone, dark stilettos drumming against the floor with every elegant footfalls of those impressively long legs.

Only then do you see it, a red silky thread coiled around her pinky, stretching across the distance between the two of you, then twining itself round yours.

And just like that, you have found your one true.

────────────────────

Finally being made aware that the fairytales you have grown up loving after all this time, are real does not make you as happy as it is supposed to.

Instead, you are busy envying the nevers who get to interact with the dean of the school for evil on a daily basis, and it does not help either that the woman seems to be deliberately avoiding you like you are the very plague.

Every time she sees so much as a shadow of you, she flees the room. When you try approaching her in front of other people, she disregards your existence altogether.

Fed up to the back teeth with her unreasonable behaviour, you foolishly decide the best course of action would be to confront her, and thus, you find yourself standing in the middle of her study one afternoon.

“Do you plan on keep ignoring me, Lady Lesso?”

“Who says you could come as you please into my study?”

“Why do you keep turning a blind eye to me?”

“Riddle me this ever, what obligation have I to take notice of you?”

Her aloofness stings as well as irritates you, and exasperated, you thrust your arm out, as if it isn’t the elephant in the room.

“Isn’t this reason enough?”

“It is but a worthless string.”

“It’s a string that ties us together. Does it mean absolutely nothing to you?”

A nonchalant hum.

A beat. A painful throb of your heart.

“Lady Lesso, why do you dislike me so?”

“Now, don’t be presumptuous, little girl. Aside from disinterest, I harbour not an ounce of feeling towards you. Your significance to me is as existential to me as my love for cats.”

“But I thought you hated Eclipse?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“How mean of you.”

“I’m the dean of the school for evil. Does that suggest anything to you?”

“And I am your soulmate. Does that suggest anything to you?”

“Soulmate this. Soulmate that. How utterly risible! It is sheer folly that leads you to believe that two literal strangers can magically, readily feel something deep and profound for each other. I don’t give a flying fuck who my soulmate is. Your existence matters not to me. In fact, it in itself is a downright insult to my face. An ever, a student and a reader at that? I simply do not care.”

Tears of frustration have been pooling in your eyes, but those that finally cascade down your cheeks are tears of dejection.

“Ever since you’ve appeared in front of me, you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my flesh. So, yes, it does suggest to me that you are a pesky little vermin.”

“All it takes is a flick of my finger,-” Suddenly, the tip of her forefinger starts glowing, and before you know it, you watch, crestfallen, as the little red thread is instantly reduced to dust. “-and there, this “our tie” that you’re so annoyingly fixated on is no more. Now, leave me alone. I certainly have far more important things to attend to than deal with this tomfoolery.”

You return to your dormitory a snivelling mess.

You have half a mind to believe that it is heartbreak that has you descending into an awful illness come morning.

────────────────────

After you have run out of her study, Leonora has been left transfixed by the staggering pain that has marred your features, unable to do anything productive for the rest of the evening.

She has thought that without those annoyingly captivating eyes perusing her every move, her heart would not feel as jittery. She has been certain that she would get satisfaction out of her little display of cruelty, and she has, if only for a while, but now, her mind is relentlessly plagued by the images of you. As soon as she has hit you with those words, it is like a dam has been broken behind those big wounded eyes.

It happens three days ago, and she has not seen you ever since. As much as she loathes to admit it, lately, all she can think of is you. In classrooms amidst teaching, at night as she lies awake in bed, it is always your agonised little face sullied with tears that makes a repeated appearance.

You have cried as if physically harmed.

She almost feels bad then, and now, she does.

Regret always comes too late, does it not?

“Why, pray tell, is the dean of the school for evil skulking about the corridors of the school for good?”

She doe not even realise that she has mindlessly wandered off to your school until a sickeningly sweet voice reaches her ears.

Slowly, she swivels on her heels, signature cane in one hand, an equally sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face.

Her lips have just moved to utter something when she is rudely interrupted by an ever.

“Lady Dovey, I’ve searched the whole perimeter but there’ve been no signs of her.”

It is none of her concern and yet, oddly, she is inclined to ask. “No signs of who?”

And, to her dismay, it is your name that falls out of the other dean’s lips.

After impatiently listening to the detailed recount of your last known whereabouts, subsequently learning that you have been sick in bed, she storms out of the school for good, intent on conducting a surreptitious search of her own.

On her way back to her school, coincidentally, she happens upon a group of nevers. She sees them talking animatedly and hears them all collectively laughing over the story of hexing an ever.

Neither is it strange nor wrong to have nevers and evers going against each other’s throats, but there is something particularly strange about this conversation that is rubbing her up the wrong way.

Soon, she understands why, and simultaneously, her anger is justified once they mention your name.

────────────────────

Your wounds sting, your body aches and your head throbs, contrapuntal with the relentless pounding of your haywire heart. Around you, the naked branches creak, crows cackle, stymphs squeal and various other inhabitants of the forest sneer.

Emitting a cacophony of condescending noises, the woods itself seems to be making a mockery of your misery. Even the moon, in her full golden glory, appears to be looking down on your sorry state from her majestic onyx throne.

Should you were within the comfort of your dormitory, the occasional zephyr would have been a soothing, charming embrace, but currently as you are with nothing more than a flimsy silk on your frame, it is anything but charming.

You are not sure whether it is the spiricks’ venomous bites finally rearing their ugly heads or the weather being particularly unforgiving tonight as the chilliness seeps into your bones, and seems to swell from deep within. In the end, you conclude that it must be a combination of both taking a toll on you, for there is a profound aching agony blooming from beneath the area where their fangs have sunk into your flesh. It does not help either that some of the deeper cuts you have sustained continue to ooze blood, liquid crimson making a macabre artwork of the blank canvas that is your nightdress.

Unconsciousness sounds like a rather enticing idea right about now, but the wicked woodland does not appear too keen on giving you even a semblance of reprieve. No sooner have you entertained the thought than come the rustling noises from the inky thickets adjacent the tree under which you are taking sanctuary.

Scrambling to your feet is instantly proved a careless mistake when, under the influence of a woozy mind and on your wobbly legs that appear to have suddenly lost their purpose, you topple over. Along with a pained little grunt, you lean against the thick mossy trunk, bracing yourself for what you believe to be the imminent danger.

However, all the fear and trepidation that have taken hostage of your mind ebb away once an impeccably dressed woman enters your vision. Her arrestingly gorgeous red curls backdropped by the golden glow of the moon serves as a halo befitting a dark goddess.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have found it puzzling: the fact that her presence alone has the effect of a calming salve on your mayhem of a mind. It swaddles your whole body in an invisible cloak, soothing stings and healing wounds, suffusing warmth and supplying solace.

All this time, your subconscious mind has been desperately craving her, you realise with a start at the lack of surprise and abundance of relief upon seeing her. During the last few days, it has gone as far as daring to harbour the flimsiest of hopes that she will find you while the more logical part of your mind keeps reminding you that she has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing, absolutely nothing in fact, to do with you. Your last interaction itself is proof enough of that claim, and your wishful thinking regardless of what she has said to your face, is certainly proof enough of your, as she likes to put it, folly.

Then, as a gust of wind plucks sickly leaves out of fragile branches, forcing you to shake on your feet in a similar fashion, a coat suddenly lands on your shoulders, shielding your trembling frame from the assault of the freezing air.

The residual heat from her body seeps into your skin. The familiar fragrance of the dean, dark, rich and dangerous with wonderful woodsy notes, leaves a trail of blood red roses in its wake. Your arms lock themselves around your body, savouring each whiff and soaking every droplet. The combined senses warm you to the core.

On the other hand, you muse with bittersweet fondness that perchance, this is as close to being cocooned in her arms as you will ever come. The sad reality instantly drenches you in thick melancholy.

When your eyes meet the dean’s, dewy though they are with unshed tears, they lack the shine of which she has always been rather fond, she has now just realised, and the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks.

Drowning in your wounded eyes while being well aware that she is unequivocally the culprit, it is well-nigh torture for her not to engulf your dainty frame in her arms. The apparent fragility of its current state is the only reason behind her hesitation to do so.

However, when you stagger on your feet like a newborn fawn, as if possessing a mind of their own, her hands move to hold you on your delicate waist. Immediately, your fingers, lovely and lithe, find home on her forearms, maintaining a determined grip. If she has oh so foolishly thought that this little electrifying contact is going to be the death of her, imagine her absolute bewilderment once your forehead falls onto her chest, dainty digits digging into the fabric of her waistcoat.

An aggressive exhale through her nose is a poor attempt to prevent herself from gasping audibly, a not so flawless facade masking her crumbling resolve.

A muffled little whimper that subsequently drizzles out of your lips is as much a candy to her ears as it is toxin to her mind.

The string that ties the two of you together is now but a flickering red. This usually is a sign of one’s soulmate being in a potentially life threatening condition. She has said such bitter, hatful words to your lovely little face, intentionally injected poison into your veins, simultaneously making you believe that you are absolutely unwanted by the one true who is meant only for you.

Instead of making her feel liberated as she has stubbornly believed, it has weighted heavily on her heart ever since those words, acidic in nature, have left her nefarious lips, and now throbs a pang of guilt, unforgiving and relentless, as your eyes, as shimmery as a moon reflected in a pond, seek her face once more.

“Y- you came.”

Your voice is worryingly feeble, breath ragged, tapering to a choked sob, crumbling into sporadic wheezes.

“Shhh, I’ve got you now.”

A gentle thumb traces a tear as it trickles down your cheek, plucking the blossoming droplets out of your lashes before they burgeon and burst.

A breath catches in her throat when you nuzzle your peachy soft cheek into her palm like a sweet, affectionate kitten.

However, the swaying of your body coupled with the crimson cuts on your once faultless skin reminds her once more of the alarming state you are in.

Hooking an arm under your knees and twining the other round your back, you are effortlessly lifted into her arms, cradled close to her chest. Cheek pressed against her bosom, one of your arms wind up around her elegant neck while your fingers seize her collar in a white-knuckled grip, as if letting her go would colour you crazed.

“Let’s get you out of this godforsaken woods.”

Her voice is the last thing you hear before consciousness slips into oblivion, with the last thing on your mind being if it meant being alone with her, then you wouldn’t mind staying trapped inside the endless woods even if indefinitely. Deem you selfish or even mad for thinking so but as long as you get to be in the receiving end of her concern, you consider a couple of nasty wounds but a small price to pay.

────────────────────

With a broken little darling bird tightly secured in her arms, the dean of the school for evil makes a hasty return.

No sooner has she taken a step into the school grounds than out strolls the dean of the school for good, frazzled and clearly vexed.

“Where in the great lawn have you-” Upon seeing not one but two people, one of which has been declared missing for the past couple of days, she cuts herself off with a gasp, “Where did you find her?” , inching closer to examine the queer little bundle in her evil counterpart’s arms.

When her queries aren’t answered, she knows better than to press, understanding immediately that there is more to it than meets the eyes. Even when she notices that they are not heading towards the school on the right, but the left, piqued though her curiosity is, she asks no questions until someone else does it for her.

“The school for good is this way. Where are you taking her?”

She recalls this lad as a prince endeavouring fruitless attempts at wooing you. Sighing internally, she muses, distracted by her recollections, Just how clueless can he get! You are clearly not interested.

“She’s been lost for days. She must be terribly malnourished, to say nothing of the state she’s in. We need to get her immediate medical attention.”

She wants to feel sorry for her student when he moves to arrogantly pry you out of firmly fixed arms, but she is more intrigued by her friend’s reaction to pay him any mind.

“Touch her if you dare and bid your hands farewell.”

One glance at the red head is enough for Clarissa Dovey to see her true emotions. On the front, her friend’s mien betrays nothing, quintessence of cool and collected. It may work in fooling other people but Clarissa Dovey is not just other people. They go way back and, albeit unintentionally, she has mastered the art of fathoming this intricacy of a person.

She sees it all in those foxy eyes; behind their frosty aloofness lies a brewing storm of anger, desperation and anxiety, sprinkled with just a touch of possessiveness.

“I must tend to her myself. I can’t even for a fraction of a second let her out of my sight.”

Clarissa Dovey knows that the declaration is directed at her, an almost imperceptible crack in her facade as her voice wavers, but she has noticed it all the same.

And, as she watches her friend swiftly disappear into the school for evil with one of her ever students cradled close to her chest, “Don’t.” , she shakes her head at the puzzled lad whose eyes seem to be overflowing with incredulity. “Let them be.”

She thinks she has deciphered the gist of her friend’s odd behaviour.

────────────────────

With every bit of skin that is revealed to Leonora’s intense scrutiny, too, comes a new wound to add to the gradually increasing collection.

The bite on the left side of your chest is arguably the most dreadful of them all. She has magically extracted as much venom from your system as she can manage, being extra careful to instantly heal most of the superficial cuts closed while giving ample attention to the more serious injuries that necessitate organic healing.

Gingerly, she cleans the wounds, stitches them extremely cautiously if stitches are warranted. Once she is satisfied with her work, she dresses them with pristine white linens, and you, in one of her dress shirts.

The sight of you in nothing but her white shirt is a rather dangerous vision, she decides as she tucks you under the covers, and flees the room under the guise of putting the soiled linens away. The pull between the two of you has suddenly become overwhelmingly powerful that she fears it will stoke the flame within her lest she puts some distance.

As long as you are under the same roof as her, she will be fine, she reasons.

“How is she?”

The voice that soon greets her is her friend’s.

“Still unconscious but thankfully, out of the woods. Venom has been extracted and I’ve dressed her wounds. Well, some of it at least.”

The blonde has joined her by her side as she rummages in her potions cabinet for something equivalent of multivitamin supplements to give you. So, she stops, turns to face her best friend, her only confidante.

“Dovey, I said some hateful things to her. I treated her quite horribly. I don’t know if she’s ever going to forgive me for it.”

Resuming her search, she utters her terrible confession.

“It was I who pushed her away, and yet, being away from her, truly away from her, it was awfully unbearable, as if, as if a piece of my heart is being ripped away.“

A hand lands on her shoulder.

“That’s even more reason for you to make it up to her. She needs you as much as you need her.”

The eyes that greet her upon making contact are kind, gentle, and full of wisdom, not anything near the usual Dovey who revels in throwing merciless quips at her with a fiery passion. There however is a hint of reproach in her voice as she adds, eyes hardening for just a fraction.

“Trying to deny the connection will only continue to hurt the both of you. If you are clever enough to understand the importance of it, you would do well to fix your mistakes.”

It is during times like these that she is infinitely grateful for having a friend like Dovey. More often than not, they will be seen partaking in almost ruthlessly aggressive banter, making them come across as nemeses who despise one another to those around them, but Dovey, to Lesso, is a port in the storm: someone, no the only one she can turn to.

Suddenly, following her friend’s much needed advice, even being under the same roof becomes painfully insufferable. Her heart demands that she returns to your side, and thus, after shocking Dovey with a rare moment of expressing gratitude, grabbing the bottle in hand, she walks briskly back towards her chamber.

────────────────────

By the time you wake up, there significantly is less soreness overall. Cocooned in satiny softness, you feel infinitely better, up until the last couple of hours gain on your foggy mind. It is too beautiful of a memory to be real, and you wonder if you have just made it all up when a delightful whiff of a familiar fragrance teases your nose.

Tracing the scent leads you to the conclusion that not only are you in the dean’s chamber, you are buried under her feather-soft duvet, sinking into her pillowy bed. Upon peeling the satin sheet off your body, you find yourself in Lady Lesso’s pristine white shirt.

Your cheeks are painted sunset pink, jolly little hummingbird causing mayhem inside its bony cage, but then, rears the ugly head of reality, crushing the delicate buds of hope beneath its foul boots.

You are inside her room, enveloped in her scent, and surrounded by her things, and yet, it is such a depressing disappointment that the woman herself is nowhere to be found.

She has been adamant that she doesn’t wanted you then.

What are the chances that she will want you now?

Your tie has meant nothing to her after all. Is there even any reason for you to keep pestering her now that what little connection you have to her is no more, due to her own doing no less.

With thoughts running rampant, your bare feet have just barely touched the fluffy carpet when the click-clack of heels notify you of her impending arrival.

Panicked and emotionally unprepared to force back into the bitter reality, you dive back under the covers, pretending as though sleep has yet to release you from its grip.

There is silence for a few minutes.

And then, “If you’re awake, let’s get some elixir in you. It’ll help you heal better.”

You comply, peeking one eye open first before moving to sit on the bed.

Trying your damndest not to unabashedly stare at her is proven to be a rather challenging affair as your eyes are keep being drawn to her tantalisingly dishevelled state. Her sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, displaying her surprisingly strong arms; you can see her veins, emerald green and amethyst purple, under her skin like milky porcelain.

Then, a bottle is handed to you. Your eyes are busy admiring her beautifully long fingers with their stylishly painted nails, sharp as talons, to give any mind to the peculiar looking colour and consistency of the contents of the bottle.

When it comes to most potions, the first droplet is always the most unpleasant, and then, you somehow get used to the taste, and watery as they usually are, the rest of the liquid goes easily in. However, with this one, the taste is unrivalled, in that it does not go down easily, the thick consistency of the liquid making it terribly unpleasant for you to swallow.

You almost end up giving up halfway, and you certainly would have if it wasn’t for her hand holding your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek, while the other is clasped over yours around the bottle, urging you on.

The roundness of the bottle is soon replaced with the thinness of the glass when a glass of water is put in your hand.

“Good girl.”

The lowly husked praise has come out of the blue that you very nearly choke to death amidst mouthfuls of water.

Silence reigns for some time afterwards before it is dethroned once more by her voice, “If you would give me another chance,” soothingly tender and conveying genuine repentance. “I would like to give this, us a proper chance.”

The sincerity of her words stuns you for a moment.

“Would you?”

You choose your words carefully. She has finally warmed up to the idea of you and her, and you do not wish to scare her away.

Still, you must state what you must.

“I won’t lie and say that you didn’t hurt me, Lady Lesso because you did, possibly even more than you’ve intended.”

At this, to your genuine shock, she wilts, the prim and proper Lady Lesso with her shoulders slumped and brows furrowed.

“I took you for granted. Of course, you would want nothing to do with me anymore. I understand. If I were you, I’d hate me, too.”

“Regrettably, even if I want to hate you, I am unable to. Not that I want to in the first place.”

Your hand finds hers on her lap, gingerly brushing a thumb against her warm skin, and when she stares intently at it, stupefied and breath caught in her slender throat, you smile to yourself.

“As foolish as it sounds, I have wanted nothing but you ever since you’ve entered my vision. I think you would have enamoured me all the same even without this string binding us together.”

“So, yes. Yes, I would.”

Her eyes are a mesmerising green as they seek yours. Now it is her doing what she does best, exercising the art of taking one’s breath away.

“No darling,-” A shadow of a smile makes its breathtaking appearance on her lovely lips. “-not only have I been a fool but I have also been a coward. It is an age-old belief that villains are never granted a happily ever after, and I-” Her hand engulfs yours, mirroring your ministrations from earlier. “-I resorted to subjecting you to my wrath before, as my irrational fear had made a foolish presumption, you would, one day, make a fool out of me. Ironically, I ended up making a fool of myself.”

Emboldened by the revelation, you intertwine your fingers with hers. “I know that our case is unique, possibly even unheard of from what I’ve gathered thus far, but Lady Lesso-” Squeezing her hand reassuringly, you make your unfaltering confession. “-even while being well aware that our path will not always be all sunshine and rainbows, I will unequivocally choose to walk the arduous path as long as I can have you.”

A beat.

Your heart thrums anxiously beneath your ribcage.

Two.

Have you divulged too much?

Three.

And then, she cracks the most fabulous smile, “Be careful darling. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

The warm, pulsating sound of it is the loveliest melody to your ears.

The tip of your ears burning, you move to hide from her mischievous gaze, but as if reading your mind, her fingers slide along your jaw, gingerly running a thumb across your raspberry suffused cheek.

“Verily, you have the purest heart.”

She muses more to herself than talk to you, only after some time, aiming utterances to you.

“Very well then, we have all the time in the world to tackle our situation. Now, rest, for it is your utmost priority. These past few days have been terribly unkind to you after all.”

“Mmhm, but Lady Lesso?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you had severed our ties. Why is it still intact?”

“Because I didn’t.”

“It was only a mirage then?”

“Yes.”

“And, Lady Lesso?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me?” You ask meekly, then add. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. I couldn’t wish for anything less.”

Your belly butterflies rejoice when after tucking you back into her bed, “Sleep tight, my sweet little songbird.” , you feel the warm press of her lips on yours. It is but a fleeting touch. But, when they descend upon your cheek next, they linger, brushing against your skin in the softest, most delicate caress.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

That night, you fall asleep with the goofiest of smiles on your face.

Tied around your pinkies, and cascading into a stream amongst the creamy sheets, the string of fate that binds your souls together burns the brightest red.

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Are you mad? ~ A Jake “Hangman” Seresin Drabble

 Summary: Loosely based on the Brett Young song Can’t Sleep Without You

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, implied smutty ending (not written), mostly unedited so please ignore the typos

Pairing:  Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 690

A/N: Meh, this isn’t my best work. But I’ve been struggling on the writing front and wanted to get something out.

“Are you mad? You look mad.” You asked timidly, sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck.

“I’m not mad.” He responded softly.

“Your jaw is clenched, and your face is screwed up like your mad.”

“I’m annoyed, not mad.” He tried to clarify.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Each time you drove under a streetlight or a car passed in the opposite direction, you could see the lingering frustration on Jake’s face. You knew that he had had a long week at work and the last thing he wanted to do was bail you out of trouble.

You and Natasha had gone out to The Hard Deck, and Bradley and Jake had declined the offers to tag along, leaving it to a girl’s night. One thing led to another; both of you had drank more than you should have. When a pair of guys wouldn’t take no for an answer from you and Phoenix, you resulted in something other than words. A thrown drink and a punch to the face later, they were both thrown from the bar, and Penny called Bradley and Jake to come to pick up their wives.

“You still look mad.” You muttered.

“I’m NOT mad! But I will be if you keep asking!” Jake raked his hand over his face. “I’m sorry.” He spoke again, this time in a softer tone. “I’m annoyed with how disgusting men can be and that I allowed myself to put you in a situation where I couldn’t protect you. I know you’re a grown woman who can care for yourself. But as your husband, it kills me to know that something like this would have never happened if I had just been there with you.”

He reached across the center console of his truck and laid his hand on your thigh.

“I know you had a long week. I’m sorry Penny had to wake you to come get me.”  

This made him chuckle, “Oh babe, I can’t sleep without you. Even if I tried, I would just toss and turn, waiting for you to come home.”

“Jake, you know I would have stayed home if you would have just asked.” You said, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I know,” He pulled your intertwined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. “That’s why I didn’t ask. I meant it when I told you to have a good time tonight. As long as I know I’m the one you’re coming home to, I’m happy. You work so hard and spend too much of your time doting on me. You deserve a night out, especially a girl’s night.”

He pulled into the driveway, letting go of your hand long enough to throw the truck in park and remove the keys from the ignition.

“Can you do me a favor?” Jake asked. “Next time, let Jimmy or Penny know what’s going on before it gets to the point of drink-throwing. Call me or text me. Hell, you could call Bradshaw if that would help.”

You giggled. “So the next time I need help, I should call Bradley?”

Jake shook his head, smiling; he knew what you were trying to do. He leaned forward and kissed you chastely. “I’m being serious,” He said, resting his forehead against your own. “I was worried when I saw Penny calling. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“I promise,” You murmured, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I worry about you every time you’re out of arms reach. It’s my job as your husband.” He chuckled, “You realize how accident-prone you are, right?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Before he could speak again, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. You nipped at his bottom lip, begging to deepen the kiss. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the base of his neck. His hand cradled the side of your face. You didn’t intend for it to turn into anything, at least not at first.

“Take me to bed, lieutenant.” You whispered once the kiss broke.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3   

[cozy-mp3]

proving grounds

tashi donaldson x reader, patrick zweig x reader

summary: patrick takes you out to meet his 'friends'. all things considered, you think it goes pretty well.

word count: 3.9k(ish)

warnings: nsfw (minors will be blocked), probably not suitable for gn!reader, readers sexuality isn’t specified but they're dating a man and fuck a woman, no penetration, one (1) face slap

a/n: my first fic in so long, everyone say thank you luca guadagnino! i’ve forgotten now to add warnings so if there’s anything i’ve missed please lmk!

you’re being scrutinized, you have been since the moment you’d sat down to meet patrick’s ‘friends’. you mentally cuss him out again for how nonchalant he’d acted about the whole thing, how he’d given you no indication that you’d be sitting across from his super rich and almost-household-name level famous tennis friends. what’s worse is that he’s abandoned you with the excuse of needing some guy time with art at the pool table, whatever that means.

you’ve been quiet since you arrived, a little late because traffic downtown on a friday is always a nightmare that you’re never quite prepared for. it’s easy being quiet when patrick is around, he talks enough for the both of you and he somehow opens up more around art and tashi. in any other situation you might’ve cringed at how his loud voice carried across the bar despite it being full, but tonight you’re glad he’s stealing some attention from you, that you could sink a little into the cracked linoleum of the booth seat you’re sharing and only answer direct questions.

tashi has been quiet too, but that’s because she’s been looking at you all evening. at first you’d thought she was judging you, she looked so out of place in her neatly pressed dress pants and a sweater that’s probably eye wateringly expensive; you’d arrived fifteen minutes late in a work blouse from target and a pencil skirt you’d dripped cesar dressing on during your lunch break. the environment almost adds to the mortification, you can’t believe patrick invited this rich, important couple to a bar like this, one that is staffed almost entirely by college students and only gets away with refusing to update their decor because they pay for the hd sports channels and have great happy hour deals.

you feel as though you’ve been blushing since you sat down, torn between embarrassed and intrigued by the way she stared first at you, your face, your chest, the little white stain you’d tried to scrub from your thigh using hand soap in the office bathrooms before you’d left and then at the drink you’d ordered, sweet, strong and fruity. she’d raised her brow when you’d mumbled the name of the cocktail, strawberry peach something, and declined patrick’s offer to order one next round by simply gesturing to the whisky she was nursing and giving him a look you didn’t quite know how to interpret.

it’d been going ok, you think. art seemed easily impressed by you, somehow looking interested when you explained your job (customer liaison for a fancy interior design company.) and how you’d met patrick (an office party at said company, he’d arrived with one of your co workers but had left with you, you’d had the decency to feel a little embarrassed retelling the story, patrick had not. art had even chastised him for sharing some of the more colorful details from the night you’d met when your flustered squeak and elbow to his ribs hadn’t deterred him.)

tashi is harder to read but you think your original assumption had been wrong, you don’t think she’s being rude-judgemental, it’s more like overprotective-judgemental, like she’s been deciding if you’re good enough for her friend. it might be sweet if she wasn’t so intimidating. she’d reclined back into the booth when art had left, her legs crossed and her elbow draped over the back of the seat, her eyes fixed on you now that patrick wasn’t there to divert any of her attention.

“patrick mentioned you’re coming to his match next week,” she says eventually and you nod, happy to engage in some conversation to alleviate the silence and equally eager to impress her, you can prove you’re good enough for patrick, good enough to join their friend group, “that’s good,” she hums, finally quirking her lips into a smile, “tennis is important to him, it’s good he wants to include you, means he’s serious.”

“i’ve never been to a match before, i’m excited to see him play,” you reply, allowing your own lips to lift. it’s nice to have some reassurance that patrick is really into you, for all his overconfidence and shamelessnes you really do like him too. “you’re his coach, right?,” you ask, although you already know that she is, patrick oscillates between praising her in a way that almost makes you jealous and pressing his forehead into the curve of your neck and complaining about how hard she pushes him.

“i am,” she answers, taking a long sip of her drink, “it’s nice to see my hard work paying off,” she adds while glancing towards art and patrick where they stand at the pool table, heads pressed together in conversation. you don’t quite know what she means by that and you won’t ask, you’re not even sure she’d answer if you did, instead you wave shyly to patrick when he glances over at the table and duck your head embarrassed when he makes a show of blowing a kiss towards you in return.

“i’m sure you do a great job, he talks about you a lot,” you mumble before sucking the end of your straw into your mouth to distract yourself from the way your cheeks are heating up again. tashi doesn’t respond but gives you a look you don’t quite know how to read, like she’s coming to some sort of conclusion about you that she isn’t going to share. it leaves you wanting, almost desperate to ask what she’s thinking but despite not knowing her well you can tell that would be a bad move, she’ll tell you when she decides. it feels very much like you’re a passenger in her presence, like there’s a game she’s playing that you’ll have to learn the rules of before you can join in properly.

the two of you lapse into silence again, your eyes flitting between the ice melting in your drink and your two boys at the pool table and her eyes on you. you tense when you feel the rounded tip of tashi’s heel brush against your calf but ignore it studiously, you rationalize it as a mistake, she was probably just adjusting her legs or something. you’d skipped tights this morning and it’d been nice in the office, the aircon had broken last week and you didn’t need any extra layers but you curse your decision now as you can feel the warmth of tashi’s ankle when she brushes against you again.

this time you glance up at her questioning but she only raises the corner of her mouth into a brief smile and continues her path up your leg. you hope you don’t look like a deer in the headlights as you hold her gaze, your lips parted around the straw that still sits in your mouth as you try to process the fact that tashi fucking donaldson is about to have her heel pressed between your legs within shouting distance from her husband and your boyfriend.

you blink harshly and tear your eyes from tashi’s to look over at patrick again and his eyes meet yours instantly. he’d already been watching, pool cue tucked beneath his chin as art makes a show of pondering his next move, the fact that he glances up and meets your eyes betrays that he must’ve been watching as well. you startle when tashi finally presses the toe of her shoe to your core, your thighs clamping around her leg in a way she must find amusing because she huffs out a laugh.

you feel hot and cold all at the same time, needy and aroused and confused. patrick, the asshole, winks at you before he turns his attention back to art who has apparently taken his turn. you can’t be sure, you’re so flustered you don’t think you could give today's date if someone asked. it must take at least thirty seconds for you to kick start again, for your muddled brain to string together some excuse about reapplying your lip gloss so you can excuse yourself to the bathroom.

you get up with as much grace as you can manage, tugging down the hem of your skirt where it’s ridden up and making your way across the bar as fast as you can without running. you can feel tashi’s eyes on your back as you go, it’s hard to decide if you want her to follow you or not.

you suck in a deep breath as the bathroom door shuts behind you and press your hands to the cool edge of the sink basin. it’s hard to resist the urge to splash your face with cold water, but you can’t remember if you’d used waterproof mascara this morning and you’d rather not go back out there looking like you’d given yourself two black eyes. you glance up at yourself in the mirror and grimace slightly at its dingy edges before focusing on your face, you feel warm from the alcohol and the phantom touch of tashi between your legs. you wonder again if you’re passing the silent test she’s conducting, you hope so.

closing your eyes, you take another deep breath to clear your mind. you have a decision to make here and at this point it probably isn’t too conspiratorial to think that’s by design. asking patrick to take you home and explain all of this is probably the most rational course of action, you aren’t quite sure that you want rational. it’s like tashi has a magnetic pull that you can’t escape, there’s something about her that leaves you feeling open and wanting.

absentmindedly, you think you might be beginning to understand why people join cults and the thought is so ridiculous it almost startles you into laughing. it’s as you’re thinking about her that tashi strides in, her nose wrinkling much the same way yours at the state of the mirrors as she stands at the sink next to you, her hands fixing the strands of hair that frame her face.

“next time we go out, i’ll pick the bar,” she tells you, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror, she shares a smile that you reciprocate shakily and it feels so good every time she does that, like you’ve worked hard for her approval and it means something when she grants it, “patrick has never been great at choosing where to take his girls out,” she says and before you can ask what she means by that she’s standing behind you, her chest pressed to your back and the blunt ends of her neatly cut bob brushing your temples.

“tashi,” you whisper, only a little humiliated by how wide your eyes have gotten in your reflection. she doesn’t bother responding to you, instead reaching around to hold your chin in her hand so she can tilt your face at different angles. you watch her instead of yourself, the serious set to her jaw and the slight pinch between her brows, you wonder what she’s thinking, if she thinks you’re pretty or if she’s cataloging imperfections. you hope it’s the former.

“you’re better than the last one,” she says and your breath catches in your throat. you don’t know if you should feel flattered or disgusted, you could push her off easily, her hand is still loosely gripping your chin and her other hand is now resting on your hip but there’s enough space for you to slip from between her and the chipped basin. you have a choice, you can leave and grab patrick by the wrist and make him drive you home, he’s only been drinking diet coke, alcohol isn’t included in his strict diet plan, or, you can remain pliant as tashi examines you.

you can tell she’s waiting for your reaction, it’s another test, you realize, part of her game. you still don’t know what it is about tashi that makes you want to succeed, to obey, to win, but you do so, so desperately. you don’t move, you allow her to press you closer to the sink, to tilt her head closer to yours so you can smell her shampoo and feel the shape of her thighs and breasts where they press against you. she smiles again and you know you’ve passed.

“does,” you begin, though you have to pause to clear your dry throat, “does patrick know this is happening?,” you ask and she hums noncommittal, shrugging one of her shoulders and repositioning her hand so that it’s cupping your cheek.

“he suspects it, i think,” she tells you with the same self assured nonchalance she seems to carry constantly, “he won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she adds when the unsure twist to your lips doesn’t let up. you nod and choose again to believe her, easing your grip on the basin where at some point it’d turned white knuckled.

tashi strokes the pads of her fingers against your cheek and you can feel as it heats against her skin, the slightly rough calluses you feel at the base of her fingers matching the ones you feel on patrick when he cups your face in his hands. her hands are smaller though, her fingers longer than your own but far daintier than his and her touch is less desperate than the way patrick usually touches you, as if he needs but tashi only wants.

“does art suspect too?,” you ask. you sound more breathless than you’d intended but you can’t help it when tashi has used the hand at your hip to tug your loose work blouse tight against your skin, the shape of your breasts and the curve of your waist now obvious in the mirror as the buttons strain to remain closed over your chest.

“no, art knows,” she replies simply as her hand leaves your face to trace where the lace edged cups of your bra now show prominently through the thin fabric of your shirt. you don’t know what answer you’d expected but it wasn’t that and to your embarrassment your breath hitches again, you wonder if art is telling patrick what’s happening in the bathroom, if their heads are pressed together again as they discuss in whispers if they think you’ll go along with whatever this is.

you nod in lieu of a verbal response, you don’t really know what to say, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this tongue tied in your life. tashi seems satisfied enough with your answer though since she doesn’t press for more, you suspect if she wanted a verbal response she would demand one.

“tell me now if you want this to stop,” she says after a short pause, her thumb stroking over the first of the plastic pearl buttons that hold your blouse closed, “i won’t be mad,” she adds when you don’t respond immediately. you open your mouth but words escape you so you rest your hand atop hers and press the pad of your finger over her thumb, applying enough pressure that beneath the two of you the button slips from it’s eyelet and the one beneath follows suit under the swell of your breasts. tashi’s hand slips from beneath yours and returns to your jaw where she forces your chin up to meet her eyes in the mirror, her pupils are just as blown as yours, the only indication that she’s as affected by any of this as you.

“i told you to tell me,” she reminds you, her neatly manicured nails digging into your skin, you can feel the slight chill of the rings she’s wearing as you mumble an assent, “tell me properly,” she demands and this time she uses her hand to angle your head backwards so she can look into your eyes directly.

“i don’t want you to stop,” you breathe and god, it feels as though all the blood has rushed from your head to your cunt, you can only imagine how wet you are, you’re surprised you haven't felt it dampen your thighs yet.

“good,” tashi replies and she squeezes your jaw with what you can only assume is affection, “i want you to finish undoing those buttons,” she tells you, making no move to remove her hands from where they currently rest. you obey as fast as you can, silently pleading with your motor functions to cooperate as you try to be quick and alluring at the same time.

you aren’t sure how successful you are but tashi seems satisfied as she strokes her fingertips over your now exposed breast. after you’ve untucked your shirt from your skirt you clench your fists, unsure of where to put your hands before tashi reaches down to rest them on the edge of the sink again. she strokes her thumbs across the backs of your knuckles before she trails her hands up your body again, stopping at your chest and meeting your eyes in the mirror again as she tugs the cups of your bra down and under your breasts.

you want to say something but you don’t know what, you want to say something but you can’t. you want to ask her if she likes what she sees, you want to ask if she feels as desperate as you. but you don’t, you wait, nipples hardening in the cold air, for tashi to make the next move.

“you’re doing well,” she reassures you, she can probably see the desperate, wanting look in your eyes, maybe you should feel ashamed, you don’t. she leaves you aching for a few moments longer and just as your resolve is beginning to crack she smooths her hands over the waistband of your skirt and down your thighs where she begins to tug the fabric upwards.

“tashi, ‘m gonna make a mess,” you warn once your skirt is bunched at your hips and her knee is trying to press between your thighs, “they’re gonna know,” you add, though it’s pointless as she forces her knee between your legs and instantly angles upwards, pressing the firm length of her thigh against the seat of your damp panties.

“they already know,” she reminds you and she seems uncaring of the mess you feel seeping through the sheer lace of your panties and onto the dark material of her pants. maybe her lack of caring is how she shows her desperation, maybe the way she allows herself to be disheveled by you means she wants you as urgently as you want her.

“these are cute, were they for patrick?,” she asks, ignoring the way your thighs try to clamp around her at the reminder of art and patrick outside, waiting for her to be done with you, the two of them just as obedient as you.

“answer my question,” she demands when your only response is a choked whine. her voice has an edge to it that can only be arousal which has your thighs tensing again. tashi is meaner in her demand this time, hooking one of her fingers in the waistband of your panties and letting them snap back against your skin as her hand returns to shake your jaw, as if you’re in a stupor she can jostle you from.

“yes,” you gasp, choking on a mortified moan when tashi slaps the plane of your cheek, the skin blooming with a tingling warmth that her fingers pet over soothingly as you open your mouth to answer again, “yes, they were for patrick,” you rush, your hands leaving the sink to grip her forearm in both palms. her skin is warm and you can feel her pulse beat steady where your thumbs are pressed to her wrist.

“it’s a shame they’re gonna be a mess when he sees them then,” she replies, the mocking edge to her voice softened by the fact her own voice has caught a breathless note now, “you’re going to cum in these panties and show him what a mess i’ve made of you when he tries to fuck you tonight,” she says and all you can do is nod. you feel pathetic as she angles your head toward the mirror to watch as she slides her hand into your panties, your cunt clenching desperately at nothing and soaking more of your arousal onto her thigh.

she seems to have concluded her game for the most part as she wastes no time wetting her fingers with your slick and rubbing fast, demanding circles around your swollen clit. her eyes meet yours as her free hand curls around your neck, her fingers pressing lightly against the sides of your throat at first. you manage to nod at her silent question, tilting your head backward onto her shoulder and squeezing imploringly at her wrist where your hands cling desperate, palms sweaty as you hurtle towards an orgasm.

it all happens quickly from there, tashi’s fingers squeeze around your neck and her hand somehow quickens between your legs, her thigh pressing upwards to meet your hips as they buck helpless against her. you feel the rush of blood to your head when she eases up on your neck and hear the squeak of your sensible black work shoes against the tile as your legs scramble for purchase. you can’t voice your impending peak as tashi presses her lips to yours, licking into your mouth to dampen the loud moan that escapes you as you cum.

tashi is considerate, she pets your cunt as you shake through it and uses her thigh to hold you up, her hand leaves your throat so her arm can wrap around your chest where she presses you tight against her. it takes a minute for you to finish riding it out but when your toes finally uncurl she helps you stand upright against the sink and starts to redress you herself.

“good girl,” she hums as she tucks you back into your bra and begins rebuttoning your shirt, “let’s get you back to your boyfriend, hm?, i’m sure he’s missing you,” she continues with a hint of amusement while she rolls your skirt back down.

“yeah,” you reply, voice spacey even to your own ears, tashi smiles though so you do too, “thank you,” you tell her as she uses her thumb to fix your smudged lip gloss. she only pats your cheek in response, taking your hand in hers and tugging you towards the bathroom door. it’s hard not to be mortified when you glance down at her thigh and notice the mess you’ve left on her, a large dark patch that only grows more noticeable under the bar’s lighting.

art and patrick are waiting at the table, art nursing a second pint and patrick using his straw to push the ice around an empty glass of diet coke. they both perk up when they see the two of you, like if they had tails they’d be wagging and this time you completely understand the look tashi shares with you, a little fond and a lot exasperated, as if to her they’re the most predictable people on the planet.

“she’s a keeper,” she says in lieu of greeting, keeping a gentle grip on your hand until you’re safely deposited in the booth next to patrick. you feel yourself blush as patrick tucks you into his side and art pushes a coaster with a glass of ice water perched on top of it towards you. you manage a grateful smile in his direction before you turn your warm face into patrick’s neck to escape the knowing look he’s giving you. whatever game tashi is playing, you think you’ve passed this round.

[martyfive]

16/12/23

it’s not like i stopped having dreams at all. i was going to bed after 3AM for months waking up after six or seven hours of sleep and still dreaming every night, but i never remembered anything. some blurry pictures haunted me, but i was lucky enough to forget them in the morning. that’s why when i found myself in my old family house with blood on the walls and the floor i knew it was a dream, but a dream so vivid i was actually more bothered by the fact that it was the first story-like dream i had in months than that there was blood all over the place.

yeah, the blood. that house has seen enough of it, but never that much. even when the nose was broken. or when the whole set of red festive dishes was scattered around the kitchen. or after the accident. but we don’t talk about the accident. we don’t.

in a dream there was so much blood i couldn’t tell if it really was the house i grew up in. everything seemed to be the same, but things changed. maybe it was because of the renovation they did after i moved out. i’ve seen the photos. the room i used to sleep in looked horrible, like a piece of a hospital environment that for some reason also had my old stuff and an ugly grey carpet in it. it was now the room my mother used to go to read my embarrassing old diaries and cry in when she missed me most or when the threat of a broken nose was possible again. at least that didn’t change. the threat of a broken nose.

the presence of blood in a dream was somehow connected to the person who used to break noses and not take responsibility for the accidents we don’t have to talk about. and i didn’t know where he was. for some reason i wasn’t scared of him or to find him inside the house for the first time in my life. looking at the blood, i should have been. but i wasn’t.

i also knew what i had to do. the blood needed to be mopped.

someone else was there with me. i couldn’t see their face, but they felt like a friend. it could have been the devil himself, but i knew i had a problem more serious than the devil at that point.

i was walking around the house like it was just another day of my life mentally preparing for the massive cleaning session incoming when my phone rang. it was my mother.

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “he killed seven people.”

i said, “okay.”

she said, “you don’t know the horrible things he did to them. i’ve seen it all. his mother was there. you don’t even need to know about her teeth or her neck. i’ve seen it all.”

i said, “where are you?”

she said, “i’ll be home soon.”

home. i had to clean the tons of blood in a house i grew up in. my mother has called it “home”. i had another name for it. she wouldn’t like it. he was also here. i had to find him.

there was no power and all i had was the flashlight on my phone. i still had an unknown friend with me. the walls and the floor with blood on them, some cleaning stuff, a flashlight and a nameless friend. i took the phone and left to go deeper into the house in a search for a man in the centre of it. he wasn’t even a minotaur in a labyrinth. that was too much of a job title.

i found him right where he was expected to be. in a corner of the library, not easy to be spotted, right where he stored all his expensive tobacco assortment i used to steal from him when he wasn’t around. he looked calm. affectionate, almost gentle. like he was glad to see me. like he was sorry. like it was another quiet morning after the-broken-nose incident. forgive and forget. it’s gonna help you heal. no fucking way.

he was covered in blood.

i said, “what have you done?”

he said, “i deserve all your anger.”

but i had none. i was tired. i had a house to clean up.

i said, “i’m calling the cops.”

he said, “i’m a disappointment.”

i said, “we’ll see.”

the cops came. there were two of them, two young ladies, almost too cheerful for a situation. almost like it was all a stupid dream.

“the house is yours now,” he said before the cops took him away after i declined the laughable offer to put the handcuffs on him myself. “it’s all over. the house is yours. it’s always been.”

they left. i shut the door. it was dark. my faceless friend was waiting for me with the cleaning stuff.

“we should hire the cleaning company,” i said as i put the rubber yellow gloves on. “there’s no way i can do this on my own.”

“no,” the friend said. “you can. and you will. it’s your house now, haven’t you heard? you can sell it, get the money and everything. that’s gonna be awesome, right?”

maybe it was the devil himself after all. the blood was seeping through the cracks of the wooden floor.

“yeah,” i said.

then i woke up. the night was coming to an end. for a couple breath stealing minutes i was stuck in a house with blood on the walls. it was still there. i was still there. cleaning the blood. mopping the floor. waiting for my mother. wondering if she’s gonna lock herself in my old room turned into a hospital ward to cry over a man that broke her nose once or twice and a kid that used to have to calm her down while she was crying.

i suddenly heard the watch on my wrist ticking. it was a quarter to six. i was home.

25/12/23

[jealousjersey]

interlinked 🍊 mike schmidt x reader

🍊ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 🍊ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 🍊ʚ

description ★ mike finds out everything about you and uses that information to ask you out.

mentions ★ perv!mike, semi stalker!mike, fluff

warnings ★ afab fem reader, oblivious reader,

a/n ★ a little out of my normal vanilla comfort zone but cmon yall know this is hot, set modern day but still same age in the movie (if that makes sense)

˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ ☁️

you're always so exhausted coming home from work. the only form of release you have is the pink wand in your bed stand but recently it's not doing you any good. your job isn’t facisnating but it’s easy money.

every once in a while you get compliments, telling you how beautiful you are and men always try to get your number. you always politely decline. you just want to meet the right one eventually. you never really dated anybody because anyone you’ve ever talked to just wanted to fuck and go.

until you met mike. mike worked with you but you never really spoke to him for long periods of time. but you never knew how obsessed he was with you. he wanted to know everything about you. he would stalk your social media finding out every thing he can about you, your favorite food, drink, restaurant, etc. and he would bring them up in conversation.

you were always very surprised about how he knew just what to bring up in small talk, occasionally asking you if you would try a new food place in your town. but politely you always declined.

mike always took in interest in things you talked about just to get closer to you. you just always thought that he was just into everything you were into, which fascinated you.

“hey have you seen that new movie with Molly Ringwald in it? we should watch it sometimes” he awkwardly suggested. “oh my god i love her! she’s my favorite actress!” you responded enthusiastically. “wait no way she’s my favorite too!” he smiled. he knew just the kind of things to say to you.

later that week you finally agreed to go out with him, after he tried for 4 months to take you out. it was simple and sweet.

you took a taxi to the movie theater after he offered to drive you, you declined and said you would take a taxi. you thought it was safer if anything went down.

in the movie theater you both sat down beside each other. mike got you both a giant bag of popcorn and two sprites. he knew you loved sprite from shamelessly stalking your social media before arriving to the cinema.

“what’d you get me to drink?” you asked him. “i didn’t know what you wanted so i just got a sprite.” he said, awkwardly smiling at you as you say “thank you, sprites actually my favorite drink”

halfway through the movie he puts his hand on your leg, it’s in good nature, he wants to make sure you’re okay. it shocks you for a second.

the movie finishes and as you’re walking out you say “this might be my new favorite movie” as you sip on your drink. mike is holding your jacket and carrying it out for you.

mike offers you a ride to his place and you agree. sitting in his beaten down truck you say to him “i feel like i’ve known you my whole life mike” as you put your hand on his knee and look into his soft brown eyes. he looks up at you from his steering wheel and gives you a soft smile.

obviously mike knew where you live, he knew everything about you. but when he offered to take you to his house and he’d make dinner you were down.

you walk into his house first and sit on his couch, “is chicken alfredo good?” he says to you. “i love chicken alfredo!” you exclaim. you swore you could hear him say “i know” under his breath but you didn’t think anything of it, besides you were too busy watching the tv to overthink it.

“dinners ready” he yells at you from the kitchen. “i got you a place to sit” he follows up. you walk to the kitchen and even your form is placed on the right side of the plate, so is your drink.

“i feel like ive known you my whole life. it feels like we’re just eternally interlinked.” you say, sincerely. “i feel that way too.” he replies as you take a bite of your food. mikes obsessed with you, hell, he worships the ground you walk on. he would spend every waking moment with you if he could. sometimes you wish he could too.

over the course of 2 weeks you’ve slowly started to fall in love with mike. simple gestures he does to make you more comfortable. you like when he does that, and the way he takes a interest in your interests makes you want him badly.

mike invites you over again, but this time when you enter the living room he’s holding a bouquet of waterlilys and you run up and thank him you hold his hand and bring him over to the couch to watch some movie. “do you think there’s a chance of us being more than friends” he says to you as you’re on his couch

you stop for a second, letting your mind repeat the sentence 100 times. “i would like that mike” you smile. he puts his hand on your thigh and squeezes a little, as you look up at him he looks down into your eyes and smiles. “i really like you y/n” he says to you softly, just slightly a whisper. “i like you too mike” you say as you match his tone.

mike leans in close for a kiss and you engage. it felt like a taste of heaven making out with mike schmidt. he was gentle, his tongue asking for entrance into your mouth. its sweet, really. you just wish you could stay like this, his hand on your thigh, his tongue in your mouth and seeing heaven in his eyes.

mike breaks the kiss first, you noticing a tent in his jeans. it angers you at first, thinking “this is why i don’t go out anymore. what the hell is he thinking.” but then you notice the wet spot in your panties, soaking through your pants. mike grabs your wrist and stares you in the eyes, this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with someone. it’s simple and sweet. “i think im falling in love with you y/n, and i don’t know what to do.” mike says to you, he feels dumbfounded. at first it was infatuation, but now he’s becoming head over hills.

“me too” you reply, face bright red. mike wraps his arm around you and sits his face on your chest. this is comfortable, and safe. you could really get used to this.

˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆.ೃ࿔*:･˚ ☁️

[spritebug]

What do you think the MS characters studied during FCU/at university generally?

Thank you for the ask! ^^

My FCU knowledge is very limited, so I’m sorry if this is ooc or goes against cannon 😅

I’ve also never done something like this, so I hope the layout is okay!

What the main Mystreet characters studied at FCU/College/University

———————————————

Like I say, I don’t remember much of FCU. So this will be based on their MS and PDH personalities!

(Also I’m British so I’m sorry if I mixed anything up!)

Aph

-I strongly think aph went into a creative subject.

-Specifically Graphic Design or Drawing and Painting

-I also think she could have taken Creative Writing, after realising that she could make Fan fiction her entire job if she just “got it published”

-turns out it wasn’t that easy.

-(I think she’d have considered a Veterinary course, but decided against it after realising she’d have to see some of the animals pass on)

Katelyn

-I truly don’t talk about Katelyn enough.

-The easy answer is obviously a sports based course.

-Such as studying/training for volleyball or Sports Coaching.

-BUT I think she also could have done something in Drama, specifically Acting and Performance.

-I think she would have taken up Boxing Lessons during this, either for fun or to try cover her love of Theatre.

Nana(kc)

-Bakery.

-It’s easy, I know. But I really think she probably would have taken a Bakery and Patisserie course.

-If we’re also talking in universe stuff, then I think she might have taken some form of Magics Classes.

-And depending on when her dream of starting a maid cafe started, she could have taken Business Management to try and do that.

-I like to think she had a part time job at the Meif’wa scouts as a scout leader.

-(Probably also considered Veterinary as an option)

Garroth

-This man was way too difficult

-But it’s okay we love him anyway

-I think Garroth would be the type of person who just panicked and applied for a course in whatever he got the best grades in at the end of secondary/high school, even if it’s not what he wanted to do. (Which is valid)

-He probably could have continued in Baseball, but realised he’d rather keep it as a hobby and not a career.

-Garte absolutely offered him an apprenticeship at his business, and definitely tried super hard to get him to accept.

-Thankfully, Zianna pushed for him to do what he wants not what Garte wants. We love zianna.

-But, Garte definitely made him do a part time course in Business Management “just in case”

-Garroth doesn’t know what he wants to do in life yet, and that’s perfectly fine.

Zane

-Ahhh zane. Just as difficult as his brother.

-I think he could have done English Literature or some form of Poetry, gotta get the angst out somehow.

-But other things MCD and the wiki also make me think he could have done Business management to try and please his dad and become the favourite child.

-Garte probably offered him the the apprenticeship after Garroth declined it, but it was too late to accept.

-He probably considered an art course because of his love of MLP 2D animation.

Vylad

-MY BOYYY

-I have so many opinions

-Okay, so for some reason I really think Vylad would take a Photography course. It just makes sense in my mind.

-If not photography, I think he would have taken any course that involved him having to travel in order to study.

-I think Vylad learned at least 1 other language during college/uni.

-Probably took baking classes at one point, but kept eating his projects before he could present them.

-I don’t think Garte got around to offering him the apprenticeship, but he wouldn’t have accepted anyway.

Laurence

-This man. I love him, but his wiki is….lacking compared to everyone else’s.

-But we continue anyway

-I’m tempted to say he didn’t go to Uni/college, and instead helped on his parents farm for a little while or did some form of Apprenticeship.

-if he did I think Laurence could have continued football/soccer, but I think he’d get bored and choose something else.

-I think Laurence would be the type who chooses his courses based solely on what he enjoys doing, without a real plan on what to do afterward. (me too)

-I think he would have taken a culinary course, mainly surrounding savoury food.

-college/uni is probably where he learnt Japanese.

-I think Cadenza would have convinced him to do a part time Fashion and Beauty course “or she’d disown him”.

-Definitely did Babysitting as a part time job.

Dante

-Dante. One of the hardest out of this list.

-I’m honestly so stumped for our dear Danny boy

-I can imagine Dante going into something like Engineering or Film.

-I literally have no idea why, it’s just all I picture when I think about it. I wish I could provide more information

-I think he probably got a job pretty early after leaving Secondarily/High school. Like just something small, not a stable forever job.

-I think College/Uni has to be around the time he toned down his PDH-era flirting.

Travis

-I feel like Travis could have went into Media or something along those lines.

-Or social studies

-He seems like he’d do an apprenticeship somewhere, but I’m not sure where.

-he’s a tricky one

-he definitely did cooking lessons at some point

-I think college/Uni is also where he learnt a martial art

-He defiantly went to the same place as Dante

Aaron

-I think Aaron didn’t have much control over what he studied. I think he was heavily influenced by his parents.

-Definitely took Business Management

-Definitely took some form of Werewolf classes

-And definitely lost interest quickly

-100% made use of the on-campus gym. He probably spent more time there than classes.

Lucinda

-Magic time

-Definitely took multiple Magic Courses.

-Specifically about Familiars and Witchcraft

-Took bakery classes on the side, and tried to mix the two together.

-I think she could have also taken gardening on the side.

Nicole

-I think Nicole’s dad would have tried to convince her to study Law or Politics, but after less than a year she switches.

-I think she would have taken Sport and Exercise Science, to better herself and others.

-I think she could have taken Veterinary part time too, like a wildlife sanctuary or something.

-She probably took martial art classes in between classes.

Cadenza

-CADENZAAA

-yes I’m including our girl

-She absolutely took Fashion Design.

-And possibly Beauty on the side.

-She knew exactly what she wanted in Secondary/High school, and she hasn’t changed her mind since.

-Definitely took self defence classes

-Also helped out at her parents farm for a little while.

———————————————

I hope this was okay, I had to re-do the whole thing three times cause I kept accidentally losing all the progress 😅

[akariamai]

Home

Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 1401

You were luckier than most. A wealthy family contracted you to fix up the bus they bought and convert it into their dream home. You managed to construct every aspect the family wanted inside the double-decker bus then the apocalypse hit. The members of your small town, including the family who paid you, left without a single thought. They left with nothing but the clothes on their backs while heading out with military soldiers. You stayed behind, taking the bus with you, and becoming self-sufficient from then on.

You scavenged through the abandoned stores searching for anything remotely useful to survival. Stocking up the pantry to its fullest and filling the closet with ammunition, guns, medicine and general supplies. You began to work.

The perishable meats and vegetables were going to go bad soon. Without constant refrigeration, they’ll rot swiftly. You thanked the heavens, the freezer the family wanted was large enough to stalk up. Shrimp, crayfish, lean fish, chicken and steaks were concealed in an airtight zip lock bag and left in the freezer. On the outside of the bags contained notes of the dates they’ll last within the freezer. All should last months and hopefully you’ll manage to stretch every bit of it.

Once the freezer was filled, it displeased you to see it all go to waste. Trimming off the fat of the meat, you made a marinade of spices that couldn’t fit in your pantry. You might as well not reduce your supplies before taking off. Your dehydrator was a god sent. You dehydrated jerky, salmon, fruit, and vegetables. They were your meals in the beginning of the apocalypse.

You were self-sufficient for a long time. Escaping from the dangers that lurked outside of your bus. You didn’t drive around often but it was necessary at times. While the infected were dangerous, it was arguable people were more of a danger to your well-being.

It was years before you found your way to Jackson, where the community welcomed you with open arms and bright smiles, your presence became well-known throughout the community. Your job was to dehydrate meat before winter hits. It was an easy job as you had the equipment and were given the meat from hunters. You never had to leave the safety of the community.

You were offered one of the available houses, but you declined. You were satisfied living on the bus. Instead, they gave you a plot of land to do as you wished. You proceeded to grow a garden and build a shed to hold gardening tools.

You were clearing the snow off the solar panels when you heard your name. Maria, a dear friend of yours, Tommy, her husband, and two strangers you had yet to meet slowly walked towards your small plot of land.

“Maria, Tommy.” You nodded as the couple and the strangers watched you work. Watching you collecting the snow into a canteen.  

“[Reader] this is Joel and Ellie. They’re new.” Maria introduced them.

“Welcome to Jackson.”

“[Reader] is one of the hardest workers here.” Tommy boasted, “They’ve helped build several houses and know how to make delicious jerky. Occasionally, you’ll see them helping around with the community garden. That is if they’re not working on their own garden.”

“You must be very bored.” She replied with a bit of snark.

“Ellie.” Joel scolded.

You laughed, “True.” You looked down on their figures. “The apocalypse does leave one bored out of their minds.” You could attest to that. Before Jackson, you had gardened your herbs, prepared and cooked meals, occasionally listened to music, and reread the books you’ve found along the way.

She agreed with your statement, having gone through her own mind-numbing activities while surviving, “You’re telling me. I’ve been stuck in a car with this asshole, reading directions and shit.” Joel maintained a pained look on his face, muttering something under his breath, before quieting down.

“[Reader],” Maria drew your attention to her, “We wanted to ask if you could watch Ellie for a bit.” She didn’t specify after that.

“Sure.” You nodded, “You can come right in Ellie, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thank you.” It was not Maria who thanked you but Joel. It was evident he didn’t particularly like being around crowds, probably an aftereffect of the world just beyond the walls of Jackson, it reminded you of yourself when you first walked into the community. Unsure if it was safe or not. A brief paradise before corrupt men or the infected came barreling through the gates.

You didn’t reply as Tommy and Maria began to leave. Joel slowly followed behind them, almost hesitant to leave Ellie in your care, but persisted forward. You climbed down the ladder and proceeded to gather a few items Ellie might need: clothing and hygiene products.

“Do you want to shower?” You asked, “I have hot water.”

“Hot water?” It must’ve been a long time since she enjoyed the luxury of hot water. You never had to know a life without it. The bus kept you sheltered from the horrors left in the wake of the outbreak.

“Plenty of it.” You handed her clean clothing. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Once you heard the water was on, you began to search for spare hygiene products the girl might need. A question lingered in the air as the decision to stay or leave was left uncertain.

“Ellie,” You called out, “Are you hungry? I can warm something up for you.”

“I’m starving.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

You left her alone to enjoy her shower and walked towards your kitchen. You were defrosting a portion of the vegetable soup for yourself, but Ellie needed it more. You proceeded to warm up the soup and searched for a bag of beef jerky you’ve made.

Ellie came down soon after and you motioned for her to have a seat. You pulled out the table and placed the warm soup in front of her. You offered her a smile, “Hope you like it.”

Ellie scarfed down the food as if it was going to disappear. You munched on bits and pieces of beef jerky, enjoying the sweet and spice, before Ellie called for your attention.

“So, you live here?” She looked over the bottom floor of your home. It was extremely organized and untouched.

“Yes.”

“Did they not give you a house?” Curiosity amplified as she awaited your response.

“They did.” You answered curtly, “But I refused.” You offered nothing else.

“Why not?”

“This is my home.” You didn’t want to mention you were waiting for the day the community would fall. It was a terrible thought, but you were a realist. Something or someone would come knocking and destroy everything that was built. It might not be today or tomorrow but someday it will happen. “It’s been my home since the beginning, and I won’t abandon it now.”

You gave Ellie the hygiene products you were willing to part with: a toothbrush, two bottles of toothpaste tablets, and a period cup with instructions. You know Maria would trade for other products she might need.

Ellie looked at the toothpaste tablets bizarrely. “This is toothpaste?”

You nodded, “Crush the tablet with your teeth. The tablet will mix with your saliva to create toothpaste.”

“Cool.” She stuffed everything in her backpack. “Thank you.”

~~~

Tommy knocked on your door early in the morning. He wanted to trade, for Joel and Ellie, for several bags of beef jerky to last a few weeks. Joel and Ellie stood right beside him, as they watched the transaction inquisitively.

You noticed they carried their bags, presumably the ones they arrived with, and knew they were leaving. You sighed, “Without refrigeration, the beef jerky is going to last about a week. I have a few bags of roasted nuts that can last within up to three months.”

“What do you want for them?” Tommy questioned. It was a matter of substance or labor.

“Nothing.” You didn’t have the need for anything, and they were leaving to a place where food was scarce. But nothing was unacceptable to Tommy. You walked back inside and brought back several bags for the two. “Take care of each other. Stay safe.”

You hoped to see them again. Alive and healthy. You wished for them to live long and happy lives wherever life spurred them too.

“Goodbye.”

Masterlist