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aemondsbabe · 11 months

Text

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟

“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Do you?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.

“You.” It comes out as a breath.

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”

“None?”

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 16 days

Text

Not so Fake

Masterlist

Tim stationed himself in the third sitting room in the Manor. It was the closest to the kitchen, and furthest from the bedrooms and entrance of the manor. In other words, the perfect hiding spot from his overactive family that have united to try and make Tim rest. The only member that would find him right away would be Alfred, who already left him a cup of tea with a few of his cookies along with one of his laptops.

A note left on top stating that Alfred expected him to actually relax, and spotting the stickers Tim could tell this was his personal laptop. Taking Alfred seriously, Tim booted up YouTube and decided to watch his new favorite, GalacticPhantom, or Danny. He had found the channel a few months ago when one of his search engines caught a mention of Tim Drake and Red Robin being the same person.

The video in question had started off with a very well made video of the camera zooming down from a space view of the Earth to Danny’s home town, through his window and coming to a screeching halt in front of Danny and his friend Wes. The opening was highly impressive to Tim and the twenty-five minute video that followed had Tim wanting to pull his hair out.

Everything Wes said was true, completely true.

Tim was absolutely stunned and terrified because the other teen had managed to fully pull together who Red Robin was without even being in Gotham. The only thing that stopped Tim from calling a meeting about it, was that no one in the comments believed him. Instead Wes was mocked with the tried and true, ‘what do the butts match?’. He ended up watching every video under the playlist, ‘Wes the Detective’ and every single video hit right on the money but absolutely no one believed him.

Well, no one but his friends it seemed. Tim had a couple theories about it and if it wasn’t for the fact that Wes has his identity clock he’d be staking out the town now. So he chose to stick to the theory that Wes was incredibly smart, but cursed in some way.

However today Danny had posted a new video and Tim could barely wait to watch it. The title was called ‘This thing wont leave me alone.’ and the thumbnail showed a screaming Danny holding a broom with a humanism but clearly not human girl spiderman to his ceiling seemingly hissing at him.

Tim grinned as he pressed play and settled back into the couch to watch. As the intro came to an end it found Danny in the closet of his bedroom speaking into the camera as if he was documenting his last moments.

“Hello everyone and welcome back to my channel.” He whispered softly only stopping at a noise outside the door that sounded like nails scratching against something. “What the—” the chittering of a badger interrupted him to cover his curse. “Today I’m hiding in my closet because this demon thing showed up and won’t leave me alone.” Something being knocked over in the background was heard causing Danny to freeze again. “I am taking my stand though, I have my makeshift weapon and-and I’m gonna face it. In the event that I don’t come out of this alive, Tucker you can have my Doomed character, Sam just ask them out already, Val you can sell all my stuff, and Wes I’m sorry I gaslight everyone in school that one time into thinking you weren’t real.”

“That was—you Danny, oh you better hope you don’t survive after this!” Wes snapped from behind the camera, his curse being covered by bird chirps, and a second later Tucker’s head popped up from the bottom right screen.

“You’re focusing on that rather than the fact Danny said that all to the screen like we weren’t even here.” Danny shushed them all dramatically holding his broom in front of him like a weapon.

“It is time. Remember me views, remember me.”

“So—dramatic.” Sam is heard but not shown on camera, soon after Danny is shown bursting out of the closet startling the humanoid creature with white hair and bright neon green eyes.

Tim assumes the creature is one of their little siblings decked out in a creepy cosplay, a really creepy one that Sam definitely had to have a hand in making.

The girl immediately starts screeching and hissing at Danny who starts screaming back before starting to swat at her with the broom. Only for her to drop on all four and start crawling around to dodge him.

“Why won’t you stay still!!” Danny cried out as he panted slightly out of breath. The girl let out an evil cackle starting to crawl toward him and the others fast as he head began to turn to the point that it was upside down. Everything was silent before Danny began screaming hysterically while hitting the girl with the broom before she managed to jump on him and they began to fight. The video cut off right as the girl got a good hit on his nose, only to come back to Danny back in the closet with a bloody nose.

“You okay man?” Wes asked from behind the camera as Danny just stared dazed ahead. Danny turned to him, eyes unfocused as he stared at the camera.

“Do-do I call an exorcist? Do we have exorcists around us? Bro I have a demon in my house, and my parents who are ghost hunters can’t even detect it. What do I do?”

“Danny, I think she might have broken your Lego space shuttle.” Val was heard and seconds later Danny was shown back outside the closet in a screaming match with her while fist fighting and rolling all over the ground.

“THAT LEGO SET COST ME FOUR MONTHS ALLOWANCE!!”

“I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET BREAKING IT!”

“ALL I DID WAS HIT YOU WITH A BROOM!”

The girl seemed to be responding to him in either gibberish, or a language they created. Which only seemed to anger Danny more.

“ENGLISH! SPEAK ENGLISH!!” The girl paused, stopping herself from landing a solid punch to his cheek before grinning at the confused teen.

“No.” Danny seemed stunned before anger took over again and the fight continued.

“You can_____speaking english! You____daughter of a______!!” The feed cut off before returning to Danny who was sitting on the bed of his wrecked room. The girl in question nowhere to be seen as Val cleaned some blood off Danny's cheek with a grin.

“I don’t know where she went, but I know she is still in my house. Tune in next time I find her because she better have some money to pay me back for my lego set. Thanks for stopping to watch this episode of mine and until next time, don’t let the ghosts get ya.”

“That was pretty interesting.” Dick said as he stole a cookie from Tim’s plate. “Are all his videos like that?” Tim didn’t even blink at his brother's sudden appearance as he moved to type out a comment.

“For the most part, ya. He’s a shit poster, his content is just a tun of stuff that is so outrageous and realistic but clearly not real.”

‘That fight gave off peak sibling energy. It’s giving, I’m gonna fight my sibling to the death because of one slight inconvenience.’

Jason hummed as he picked his book back up, dropping down in front of the couch to reread Pride and Prejudice. “Ya he was definitely fighting his little sister. He held back too much and she wasn’t pulling her punches.”

“Only Drake would spend his time watching pointless videos.” Damien huffed, causing Tim to roll his eyes.

“Awe Dami, you know Tim is on mandatory rest. No work of any kind.” Dick grinned before jumping up, wrapping his arms around Damien and dragging him down onto the couch.

“Richard!! Let me go this instant!!” Damien screamed struggling to get away from his octopus of an older brother.

“No! I need my little brother cuddles and I need them from my Dami! No escape for you now.” Damian kept fighting Dick’s hold for the next twenty-five minutes while Tim put another of Danny’s videos on and rewatched it with Jason and Dick watching as well. The video in question was one where Danny went through a locker with his friends and went back in time to when his school first opened. Jason snorted, commenting on them making everything black and white. Danny meets a seemingly see-through kid named Sidney Poindexter and it ends with the two of them having a dance off.

“Bruce, why the fuck are your kids watching a video of a kid dancing with an Infinite Relams ghost?” Tim paused, staring blankly at his computer screen before turning to look at Bruce and John Constantine. “Wow holy shit, the Infinite Realms rarely interact with us since Luthor let the Anti-Ecto Acts pass. Yet that kid is interacting with one like their friends.”

“You’re saying this shits real?” Jason asked, closing his book looking at the screen more interested.

“Language Master Jason.” Alfred said as he walked in from a tray of tea for everyone.

“Sorry Alfred.” John nodded as he moved closer, eyes trained on Poindexter.

“If it is not real it is still more similar than could be possible. They’ve definitely had interactions with the Realms.”

“Wait, what are the Anti-Ecto Acts?” Tim asked his attention zeroing in on John.

“Well fuck, you don’t know? It affects like all of you, thought for sure you’d know. Shit this is gonna take so long to explain. We’re gonna have to call a JL meeting for this explanation because I’m not doing it twice.”

Of Meetings and Musings

#danny phantom aus #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #batman #tim drake #dc universe #dcxdp

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headspace-hotel · 10 months

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College is good for several things. In the USA, it's good for learning facts about history and the rest of the world that high school either didn't tell you or flat-out lied about. Without college, most people would never encounter the academic resources necessary to unlearn lies and biases instilled by the overwhelmingly USA-centric, whitewashed viewpoint taught in most school systems, or the vocabulary needed to ask after those resources.

If (and only if) you are already extroverted and gregarious, college is good for making friends. It's probably good for some other things too.

But college is not very good for many of the things it supposedly does for people. College appears to be good for personal growth, but any environment with unfamiliar people, new experiences, and a large library would do. In fact, the academic rigors of college are probably mostly incidental to personal growth that occurs there. You learn about yourself in college in spite of, not because of, the rigid and demanding academic expectations, which serve to cement you further in what you think you already know about yourself because that is safer than discovering you might be something totally different.

It also doesn't prepare you very well for any other environment, because it is so different from any other environment you might encounter. At least in the USA, there are hardly any communities that are similar to college. College has an environment of communal living among mostly same-aged people, numerous public spaces, an endless hemorrhage of community-run events, and constant mother-henning by the institution as they encourage you to take advantage of all the services they fail to do a good job at providing. Authority figures are clearly delineated from peers and you have a clear hierarchical relationship with people that are not also students. It is an opportunity to practice adulthood, but one that supports you in the wrong ways and fails to support you in the right ones, both stifling and neglectful.

Colleges are brutally insistent on this peculiar style of community structure that you probably won't ever encounter again in your life, all the while being incredibly unforgiving if you fail to adapt to it. There are lots of rules, some of which are plain-attired descriptions of consequences as real as a granite wall, most of which reflect nothing except the fact that someone in authority would like to prevent a specific type of bad-faith exploitation of a more forgiving policy. The pure-hearted student is supposed to be able to ignore these rules and be judged according to the unspoken, more forgiving policy that is invoked when an authority likes your vibes.

This means part of surviving college is cultivating the right vibes, and part of cultivating the right vibes is being abled and not experiencing any extenuating circumstances ever. If you are having a mental health crisis that is stopping you from succeeding, the truth is as good as a lie; of course everyone struggles with mental health in college in these specific pre-cut ways, have you tried breathing exercises? If you are stressed and terrified all the time and whenever you sit still it feels like the universe is screaming through you, you will be abandoned because crisis is rare and interrupts otherwise normal life, and everyone claims to be having a crisis right now. "This system works!" and if we just repeat it hard enough the system will start to work.

If the truth is as good as a lie, then a lie is as good as the truth, and the ability to receive help when you need it is determined not by actually needing help but by being a better liar.

What if people lie to get accommodations they don't really need? I don't know the answer to this, because I find a different question more compelling: What if people lie to get accommodations they do really need?

Institutions are terrified of the possibility of a person that pretends to be disabled, and often they impress that terror into disabled people, who become terrified that THEY are pretending to be disabled, when probably almost all disabled people must pretend to be disabled because the raw Reality of what they experience as a person would be a brain-melting arcane and eldritch encounter for an Institution. Institutions don't see us. They see broad human tropes, masks worn by any number of actors. Some people are diligent students and some are lazy; some hone their potential and talent and others refuse, for whatever reason, to unlock it. This belief is so fundamental to our entire philosophy of shaping and educating students that if it directly encountered the Truth (whatever that may be), the truth would not survive.

If you want to be a good student (and I wanted to be and I was) the mask will become welded to your face and you will forget it's a mask partly because you will like how much better you were treated with the mask on. I sit in a therapy session, thinking, "Why am I framing my pain in a way that makes it seem less complicated and more solvable but doesn't cut to the truth of the matter? Which one of us benefits from that?"

The world is slowly, woundedly crawling into being a performance where everyone competes to pretend that they aren't dying. I have a version of me that struggles with school because I am autistic, but secretly I suspect successful, well-adjusted college students that manage their mental health and friendships and work do not exist in the way we think they must. After all, what of the numerous college students that cheat, that plagiarize, that make ChatGPT write their essays? My professors can all give examples of students that did, and their poor and shoddy attempts, but all this suggests is that the clever and cunning ones seldom get caught. In dealing with institutions, anything an honest person can do through their honesty, a good enough liar can do better with their lies.

#college #actually autistic #autism

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adinafay · 11 months

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I like to think Bhaal spends the entire timeline of BG3 just so incredibly confused and absolutely pissy about why he can't convince anyone - even his most special, Chosen, purest of Bhaalspawn- to murder for simple murder's sake.

Not that Bhaal doesn't appreciate murder more generally, but also how in the hells is he supposed to achieve global-genocide when everyone, even his own idiot kids, keeps using his precious murder as a mere tool, a means to their own ends, ya know?

He has to be a helicopter-parent to Durge about it:

Pre-tadpole Durge is so in-want of connection that they have to be under constant supervision by their specially-assigned butler to try and keep them on task. ("Stop bitching and let me live vicariously through you like all the other sport-parents!")

Then, even that isn't enough to stop them from connecting with Bane's lil shit "Gortash" and eventually starting in with the crown/Absolute plan ("Why in the hells are we using MY MURDER to help fucking Bane with his fucking tyranny?!")

Shortly after that Durge goes and gets merc'd and tadpoled by the other one... ("Have I taught my children nothing!? Orin really should know well by now that it's not 'murder' if they survive...")

... And then - clearly still prone to frivolous connection - they fucking gang up with a bunch of weirdos only to head home with other, new bad habits like "thinking for themselves" and "the apparent intent to entirely trash the plan they insisted on making with Gortash!" ("If you didn't want to play you shouldn't have had me sign you up for the team! Get your ass back in the game! You already got your Deathstalker uniform and everything! Now stop embarrassing me and maybe I'll even give you a slayer form.")

And, while Durge is being a rebellious lil Bhaalspawn, Bhaal also has to contend with:

His cultists, who are apparently killing mostly just for notoriety and/or safety amongst themselves. ("Quit playing around! I assure you I do not give a single fuck which one of you did it or how clean it was so long as the murder(s) did happen.")

Orin, who is playing at being an artist and completely absorbed in her exploration of murder and maiming as novel media to express her innumerable daddy issues ("Yes, I DO still like your lobotomized bloodkin more; at least they never wasted my time asking me to put all their shitty artwork up on the fridge.")

And Bane and Myrkul, who are presumably laughing their godly asses off and/or absolutely raging at Bhaal's inability to keep anyone at heel and how it's interfering with their mutual plan.

TL;DR: Life is hard when you're The God of Murder and neither your employees or your children properly respect the family business and your frenemies mock you for it.

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thatonecode · 7 months

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do you think dick grayson feels the weight of the world sometimes do you think he lays awake at night in his tiny shitty apartment in bludhaven and thinks about how he's the one who taught bruce wayne- who taught BATMAN how to really feel and love again and how every single robin after him is his responsibility because of that ? do you think he sits at family dinners with the whole extended batfamily and thinks "i did this" because he was the first ? do you think he sees some new teen hero and is terrified for them because he was them back when he wasn't around to be looked up to ? because he was the first ? do you ever think about how he wasn't only the first robin but the first kid hero ? and every fight he won he proved that other kids could too and do you think he regrets that ?? knowing how many terrified children there are fighting wars that shouldn't be theirs to fight ???? do you think he is also so incredibly proud of all of them in a way only he can because he Came First ??????

i think he does

do you think it drives a wedge between him and the entire world ? do you think jason sees him on some rooftop in gotham and thinks about sitting down next to him but doesn't because of all the years of distance and arguments and despite everything that's ROBIN sitting there ? the original ? and how jason never would have been robin if dick hadn't proved that robin was more than a child soldier in an adults war ?? with all that between them what could jason say compared to everyone's golden boy, the perfect child, the original boy wonder ???? do you think tim ever gets over his hero worship ? or is there a split second everytime where he goes Holy shit ! it's Nightwing !! Nightwing is talking to me !!!! even after everything that dicks put him through and all the empty space between them that tim never imagined would be there ? do you think that's just the effect that dick has on people where no matter what you can't help but look at him in awe, like he's superhuman ?

do you ever think about how he was an ordinary kid ? he could have been anyone . do you think about if he was anyone else he likely would not have made it and someone else would have had to fight all the battle he did, to survive, to be taken seriously, to figure out how to breathe and live and be the light instead of being smothered in batman's shadow ??? do you think about how he was the first kid hero but he was still just a kid growing up and fighting with his dad, and moving away and making new friends and falling in love and he was still the first kid hero and he was never just a kid . he was the leader of the first kids hero team . he's never just been a kid . do you think he regrets that it was him ??? do you think when batman died he regretted everything, every single thing? i don't think he did . do you think that when he was batman, and raising batman's son the way bruce raised him, the way alfred raised bruce (always raising someone elses son) he saw himself in all the anger and the reckless way damian would throw himself into fights, in a desperate way to prove himself the only way he CAN ?? do you think dick remembers being 10 and sad and angry and needing someone else to be hurt so that it wasn't just him ??? do you think that dick regrets making damian robin because of how it forces him to look at how he himself has grown and how much robin has changed from what he made it ??? i don't think he does . do you think he ever apologies to tim ? i don't think he knows how, i think he finds himself staring at their texts and wondering what words would have fixed his hurt when bruce fired him and kicked him out . and i think he decides time and space is what did it, so time and space will do it again . i think it's the wrong decision . i think they both regret it later . do you ever think about how bruce might have tried but at the end of the day everyone went to dick because he was easier to talk to ?

do you think about how he made the hard decisions like batman did, and he lost his parents like batman did, and he grew up in a massive empty house with an emotionally distant father who tried his hardest but still felt oceans away, like batman did, and he decided to be the light where batman decided to be the shadows ? he decided he wouldn't let it break him like batman did, but batman chose to become something to fear and nightwing has always been more hopeful, brighter, flashier . do you think about how in the middle of the night young people unaccustomed to the manor might end up in dicks room instead of bruce's ? because there's always a piece of bruce that stays batman, even when he takes the cowl off ? do you think about how dick understands because he was a young person unaccustomed to the manor, standing outside bruce's bedroom absolutely terrified to go in ? and how he was the first, and all he and bruce had were eachother ?

do you think about how hard they've worked since then to make sure that no one else will be alone the way they were ? and how dick is able to help with all the younger kids when bruce can't, or won't because to a child those are the same things ?? do you think about how dick must have read the same parenting books that bruce had in his office after bruce died when he was stuck and drowning and grieving and there was a child down the hall he didn't know how to protect ???? do you think dick and bruce were closer after he came back ?? do you think that just for a moment there was an echo of their past partnership in the way they were able to read eachother ?? do you think about how dick has had a hand in raising most of the other bat kids ??? because he was the first . and he was proof it was possible to live with batman and survive it ??

because i think about it . All The Time .

#sorry folks having another Normal One #dick grayson really is my blorbo ever hes so everything to me #anyways #batfam things #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #dc nightwing #dc dick grayson #dc robin #jason todd #tim drake #damian al ghul #damian wayne #bruce wayne #cipher go to sleep

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punkpandapatrixk · 5 months

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❣️How Abnormal Are You in Love? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Don’t be too hard on yourself with this PAC. Everybody in this world’s pretty much abnormal anyway. We all want something that’s extremely rare in this world: Love. Sometimes, we go crazy after mistaking shit for Love. But we all heal. Eventually, we all learn to love more healthily and sanely. And really, that’s all that matters. The crazy is also part of the character development~♥︎

☆♪°・.

‘Hey, actually, when was it that I began to realise that there’s no such thing as forever? Even so, I’m prouder than anybody else about the fact that the days we spent together were at least not a lie.

Even though it’s true that the length of time we have lived is only slightly different, just the fact that we met, that we loved, though we may never love each other again… I won’t forget.

Hey, why do I still want you by my side, thinking that I won’t do without you, even though this is hurting me so much? Even so, I became a person who could be grateful for the smallest things in life. It’s because, even the most casual of words were so meaningful between us.

Because we met, because we loved, though we may never love each other again…I’ll be fine with turning all of it into proof that I’ll survive, whilst facing all of truth and reality.

I’m just glad that we met. I’m just glad that we loved. Though we may never see each other again… I won’t forget.’

☆♪°・.

Those are words from Ayumi Hamasaki’s legendary song, LOVE ~Destiny~. At some point in Life, Ayumi said in an interview, ‘I loved one man so much that I destroyed myself.’ I can’t help but think this song could be about…it? Maybe hahah Just a vibe, gals~♡

SONG: LOVE ~Destiny~ by Hamasaki Ayumi

MOVIE: Snakes and Earrings (2008)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – What I Can’t Let Go Of, Really, Is My Pride…

VIBE: kiss by Chara

what is, Love? – 4 of Swords

Well, it seems quite obvious your past was somewhat chaotic. I think throughout childhood you felt like you were crossing a battlefield or had to fight the stormy seas all by yourself. Because of this, you deeply crave a Love that can put an end to all of those noises. In fact, it’s only fitting. Deep down you’ve always known that Love is something that’s pure, sweet and gentle; that it’s supposed to put you at ease. You understand that the world is in chaos because nobody has Love in their hearts.

You, never wanted to be like those grownups who were fighting with their own spouses. Even if you’re young, you feel like an Old Soul—the only one who seems to truly understand what Love is and is not. And you see that 99% of people literally don’t know what Love is, let alone how to love right. And you’re afraid. What if you can’t find that one person who can love you right?

Deep in your subconscious, you have these standards and ideals you desperately want to maintain. But nobody you’ve ever met seems to understand where you’re coming from. What you want is something so pure. People are rarely pure of heart, so nobody gets it. And it feels incredibly lonely. And at some point, you might’ve begun to doubt if your standards are even fair…

why do you chase, Love? – King of Wands Rx

So you grew up a bit and began to wonder what might happen if you lower your standards…a bit? You want to experience passion, right? You’re seeing all these peers around you kissing and holding each other and you crave that, too. You know very well it’s not like they’re in love—they’re just silly, infatuated, hormonal fuckers; but you wonder how it would feel to be intimate with someone. To actually have someone want you like that. To be wanted. To be held. To be kissed. To be…loved. No matter how shallowly.

Now you’re willing to look for someone passionate. You could try with a puzzling character. You like that kinda shit. Any kind of an intriguing fucker with some semblance of a mystery; making you curious to dive deep into their side of crazy. How do I figure out your particular brand of bullshit? Anybody you can’t immediately figure out would excite you to a point of insanity. And you thought this was happiness. You thought, this level of excitement surely must be happiness. Perhaps…even Love? Otherwise…

How do you explain this feeling that suddenly strikes, rattling your heartstrings, making you realise that there’s somebody in this world you’d want to care for other than yourself? Just the idea that you even fantasise about growing older with this mysterious fucker… How is this not, Love? And if this isn’t Love…what is? How else are people supposed to know happiness if this excitement alone isn’t enough?

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Cups Rx

To begin with, you’re not one to trust easily. It takes a lot for you to allow someone to see your vulnerable side. And when you go in, you go all in. It may not feel like it immediately because you’re cautious, but once you’re in…because you feel sure of someone…you’re in deep. Too deep it feels like you’re drowning in this whole situation, if anything. And you’re proud of how much you’re able to give.

And…you’re generally proud of your boundaries and the standards and ideals you’ve imposed upon yourself and others. So, the fact that you’ve given so much, revealed so much to someone who wouldn’t be there for life, is beyond frustrating. It’s world-shattering, at least. What have I been in this situationship/relationship for if it ain’t gonna last?!?! I can’t just let it die like that! Maybe I’m doing something wrong?! I must’ve! Lest none of this would’ve happened…

When Love dies, it feels so shameful. It’s a shame you trusted the wrong fucker. It’s a shame someone was able to see you that vulnerable. It’s disgusting that you thought this was The One. What was I thinking? Now everything becomes clear. It’s not the loss of that person’s Love you’re crying about. If you’re being honest now, you couldn’t care less that such a loser’s gone from your world. If anything, it’s such a relief. It was just the shock from knowing you made a mistake that made you cry… It’s OK now.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻💜

sacrifices I’d made – Green Magus (John Magus)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Can’t Tell If I’m Passionate or Just Immature

VIBE: Boys & Girls by Hamasaki Ayumi

what is, Love? – Ace of Pentacles Rx

To begin with, you’re not exactly a rational person. Not saying you’re dumb! You just have a lot of passion for something that’s unexpected or foreign. You like mysteries and you aren’t afraid to dip your toe in uncharted waters. This desire could’ve developed from having a childhood that felt constricted tho. I think you grew up surrounded by so many rules and laws and forbidden things and that’s how you developed a taste for, DANGER~

It’s exciting, from time to time, to think about throwing all your caution to the wind and breaking all rules. You want to disappoint. If you’re being honest, you’re damn tired of following everybody’s whims and concerning yourself with their expectations. What about what I want?? You want to live. You want to feel alive. There are so many exciting things outside of your everyday Life, why can’t you have any of that? At some point, you could’ve dreamt of being rescued from your Tower by a handsome daredevil of any kind of a fucker.

If that fucker happens to be handsome and rich, even better. But that doesn’t really matter. You just want someone brave enough to approach you and actually uproot you from your boring Life. Surely, Love can do that to a person…? I don’t need stability, let alone predictability; what I want is a romantic hero who’ll take me on a grand adventure of Love! And if that daredevil happens to be dumb…

why do you chase, Love? – 9 of Swords

In many ways, you’re totally not an innocent person. You want to hurt. If whoever daredevil tries to fulfil your fantasies of being rescued from your miserable Tower happens to be dumb, you’re gonna be having a field trip! XD You want to terrorise and traumatise a person, really. It’s vengeance for all the years that you were serving others. Now, it’s your time to be served. It doesn’t even matter if they don’t worship you. You’re ready to find another dumbfuck to toy with. You’re hardly ever sincere anyway~

Why bother with sincerity? Ever since you were a kid, you’ve observed that none of the adults you knew was ever sincere. What even is Love? I think you know of it conceptually. But what exactly is its purpose? What exactly is so good about it? And how? How exactly must one be in order to attain it? You don’t believe in it some days. You deeply crave it some days. You could die for it some days. You want others to die for your Love most days.

Life is confusing. Love is confusing. Sex is easy. Money is easy. Food and jewelleries are easy. Let’s live easily. Life is exhausting if you think too much about everything that could go wrong. I’m done feeling terrible about my own existence, so I want someone to spin me around and make me forget. That’s ideal. Is generally your motto when chasing… Love♡

what happens when Love, dies? – 8 of Wands Rx

You don’t care about it. You don’t particularly care about losing people. It’s expected. If anything, because you’re never serious with quite anybody anyway, ghosting is the best way to go about it. You’re the type to ghost, block, and you don’t even mind if you’re the one ghosted or blocked. Basically, you just don’t want any contact with someone you’ve lost interest in anyway. So that only makes it easier for you.

In many ways, I think you sometimes regret being this kind of a callous person. There are days you wonder if you’ll become someone more sincere. You’ve wondered what it would take to actually love someone. To actually be loved back. Surely that must be so nice. You want to be happy, honestly. But it feels like a distant daydream. You don’t particularly understand how two people can be happy living together. After all, you find people exhausting most of the time.

All you know is that you’ve lived with yourself for the longest time. And if you have to compromise or sacrifice anything…you’re not willing. You’ve sacrificed shit before, a looong time ago, and you got nothing back in return. You gave someone a rose and they gave you back thorns and strangled you with it. Surely that can’t be happiness. Two people who don’t know how to love can’t be happy together. Life is better lived alone.

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻❤️

sacrifices I’d made – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Damn, Why’s Everybody Crying for Love?

VIBE: Sunglasses by Utada Hikaru

what is, Love? – 2 of Cups Rx

Uhm…you’re a comical Pile for sure. Your psychology is so complex, although it’s also super straightforward (to you), but some people are not gonna have an easy time figuring out if you’re sincere or not. Most of us have got a lot of exposure to tragical romance, right? A lot of people get deep and insane in Love. And here you are wondering why everybody’s crying for Love. Why is everybody suffering in the name of Love? That’s not Love. People are silly for falling continuously for the wrong people. It’s all a Game for them. Me? I don’t play games.

But you do! Everybody does when it comes to falling in Love, to various extents. That’s what’s really fun about falling in Love. If you could face yourself, you’d realise you have a bit of a God-complex within this context. In the sense that…because Love and romance actually aren’t such a big deal to you, and somehow, you have an almost all-too-natural inclination to attract the right people, you can’t really empathise with those who cry in the name of Love.

For some though, if the above doesn’t really resonate, you’re the type that has an innate understanding that you must protect yourself from falling into those tragical romantic setups. You have a highly developed sense of boundary and you keep high standards for what kind of a romantic relationship you want. You’re kinda similar to Pile 1 in this case, but you most likely haven’t experienced sacrificing your standards for, EXPERIENCE~

why do you chase, Love? – 10 of Wands

In comparison to certain types of people in the world, you’re not exactly a dreamy type. When it comes to relationships you think straight towards building a matrimony with someone. You’re a traditionalist in a sense. You’re the based kid who knows that a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship is a training ground for a marriage. You think long-term. You’re realistic like that. But the problem is…you’re totally missing out on the passion of Love itself.

You don’t really see your partner(s) for the person—the Human—that they are. You care only for the practical, pragmatic facts surrounding their reputation or status or whether or not their physical appearance is decent enough. Stuff like that. And the dreamy ones who look at you, look at you with a pang of sadness in their chest, for although you seem responsible and blessed…you appear to them as someone who looks at another with an eye of business.

You’re the type that thinks love is an investment. An investment of attention, affection, time and money, and all that shit. That’s not Love; that’s something to be exchanged at the market. The dating market, OMG~

‘Freedom and love go together. Love is not a reaction. If I love you because you love me, that is mere trade, a thing to be bought in the market; it is not love. To love is not to ask anything in return, not even to feel that you are giving something—and it is only such love that can know freedom.’ – Jiddu Krishnamurti

what happens when Love, dies? – 6 of Pentacles

When Love dies, you celebrate. You’re wise enough to know that Life doesn’t end just because you broke up with somebody, even in terms of friendship. You’re spiritually mature enough to know you’ve learnt from the experience, and now, you’re just going to prepare for the next big thing to experience. Life goes on without a hitch like that for you, for the most part. I can’t tell if you’re really that spiritually mature or you just don’t give a fuck about emotions LMAO

Not saying you’re a bad person, btw. It just seems like you haven’t got a lot of crazy in your birth chart or that you haven’t experienced a lot of sorrows and soul-shattering heartbreaks, so…it’s kinda just a matter of not having, PERSPECTIVE? Coupled with the fact that you take Life very unseriously seriously…? Like, you’re serious about not being an asshole and wanting to do the socially right thing, but in doing so, you become an annoying insincere jackass in the lives of those who have (or will) dated you XDD

Basically, you’re not the type to get super crazy heartbroken when a relationship ends. You’ve got all of these other blessings anyway. Why would you focus on just the negative, right? In a sense, I believe that’s an incredible spiritual maturity which others are still struggling to figure out XD But yeah…rather than this being something abnormal about you, I think it’s just that your Higher Self designed for you not to experience the dramatic highs and lows of immature romance HAHAH

MY HEART, MY PRIDE🔻🧡

sacrifices I’d made – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

I’m glad I was able to love – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [26] - Breaking the Rules

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Fighting for the crown comes with decisions.

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Growing up as your father’s heir, you had to memorize certain rules.

Honoring the alliances was one of them. No family could survive on its own in this line of work against all the others, and it was a matter of honor not to cross or go behind your allies.

Not putting civilians in danger was another. The business and its deals or disagreements could only affect the people who chose to be in it, civilians were always off limits.

But the most important rule that was drilled into your and every heir’s head?

Never, ever do anything to break the truce.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you tried to smile at Becca. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

No.

No you really weren’t.

What you and Bucky were planning was way too dangerous, which meant that you couldn’t say that to anyone, Becca included.

“Sure!” you said as Leila came back to the table, carrying coffees.

“Thanks babe,” Becca pecked her on the lips and she smiled at her.

“Not a problem!” she said. “So, is there any reason why you look so gloomy, Y/N?”

Shit.

“Gloomy?” you asked with a small laugh. “I don’t look gloomy.”

“Is Ethan being his tortured lover self again?”

“He’s not—” you stopped yourself. “I haven’t talked to him in a while actually.”

“Bucky then?”

“Oh is this about that girl you told me about?” Becca asked. “Anna?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh…”

“Anna?” Leila asked and Becca waved a hand in the air.

“This incredibly hot woman Bucky is doing business with.”

“Did I say she was incredibly hot?”

“You said hot and I stalked her,” Becca said helpfully, “She is incredibly hot.”

“Thanks a lot Bec,” you muttered and Leila tilted her head.

“Let me see!”

“I’m not gloomy because of Anna,” you said and paused for a moment. “Although, Bucky does have a meeting with her today.”

“Here,” Becca said, handing her the phone and Leila raised her brows, staring at the screen before licking her lips.

“Maybe she just has a terrible personality.”

“You guys are the best,” you muttered and Becca let out a laugh.

“We’re joking, obviously you’re hotter.”

“For some reason I highly doubt that,” you pointed out and Leila rolled her eyes at you.

“You are,” she said. “But jealousy is less about looks and more about the vibes.”

“I’m not jealous!” you said, your voice going a pitch higher before you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t even thinking about her until you brought her up.”

“Then what—” Becca started but your phone started vibrating on the table, making you grimace when your eyes fell on the caller ID.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you said and grabbed your phone, then walked out of the café to answer it. “Auntie?”

“Y/N hi honey!” her cheerful voice reached you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, I’m just with my friends,” you said and she hummed.

“Well then, clear out your schedule for the afternoon because we’re having an aunt-niece lunch,” she said, making your eyes widen.

“Oh I actually—I had this thing—”

“I already made the reservation, I’ll send you the details,” she cut off your stammering. “See you in two hours!”

With that, she hung up and you threw your head back, letting out a groan.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Just what I needed today.”

Of course your aunt had picked a restaurant in your father’s territory and of course it was already swarming with your father’s people. Unlike you, she had no problem with being followed by bodyguards even if the restaurant seemed to be closed to any other people but you two and the bodyguards, so you tried not to roll your eyes as you sat down, the waitress bringing your food almost immediately. You pulled your brows together and your aunt sat up straighter.

“I ordered for the both of us already,” she said, making you hum.

“Wonderful,” you said. “Thanks.”

“So,” she smiled at you. “I figured today is as good of a day as any to catch up!”

No, today was supposed to be about you having an existential crisis at home, and yet here you were.

“How’s marriage going?”

Jesus Christ.

“It’s going well,” you said curtly before digging into the salad in front of you. “And you? How are you after the break up?”

“Oh,” she waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not talk about that. Bucky seems like he grew into such a gentleman!”

“Mm hm.”

“And George is happy being retired?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Bucky is doing a great job,” you said, unaware of the proud tone in your voice. “So yes. He probably does miss being more involved in the business but it’s Bucky’s time now. George knows it.”

“Promising heir turns into successful king, not much of a surprise there,” she commented and you sipped your wine.

“Exactly.”

“And speaking of heirs…” your aunt said, making your eyes shoot up to hers.

Fucking—

Yeah, you had walked right into that.

You knew that everything you said and did, even the smallest reaction would be reported back to either Ian or your father, so you had to keep your calm. Even though anger had started to boil deep inside you, you lowered your wine glass, tilting your head at her.

“Hm?”

“Your father may have mentioned that things between you and him are rather tense lately,” she said. “Especially after him naming Ian as his heir.”

You frowned, feigning confusion before taking your fork into your mouth again.

“I didn’t think they were tense,” you said after swallowing your bite. “Is that what he thinks?”

She paused only for a moment.

“It is,” she said. “And you know how important family is. We don’t always have to see eye to eye, but we do have to support each other.”

“Does father think I won’t support Ian?” you asked silkily and she licked her lips, deep in thought.

“Ian worked really hard to be where he is right now, Y/N,” she said, making you pull your brows together. “I am aware that you might feel some resentment but that position belongs to Ian now. And we as his family must make sure to make his job easier.”

You wanted to laugh at the audacity but managed to keep your expression under control. Of course she supported him, that much wasn’t surprising but—

Ian working for where he was?

He hadn’t even bothered to go through half of the training you had.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” you told her. “It’s father’s job to make Ian’s job easier, he was the one who named him heir. What I think about his decision doesn’t hold any power in this, I’m not in the business—”

“Yes you are.”

You scoffed. “Well, that’s news to me then. Do you know something I don’t?”

She shot you a look.

“You and I both know that some bosses in the city support you to become the heir, not Ian.”

You bit back a smirk and took another sip of your wine.

“Which is normal, outsiders can have different ideas, it’s the family that decides on the heir,” she said. “But Bucky…Bucky is family now.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t control Bucky.”

“Yes you do,” she insisted. “And Bucky doesn’t necessarily like Ian, does he?”

The realization dawned on you in a second; your father hadn’t put your aunt up to this.

Ian had, because he felt threatened by Bucky.

Which in all honesty was a bit insulting, because even with other bosses supporting you to become the heir, he still didn’t think you yourself were a viable threat to him.

You pushed at your salad with your fork, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Strange as it may sound, me and Bucky don’t really spend our time talking about Ian,” you said and your aunt heaved a sigh, then reached out to clasp her hand over yours.

“Honey,” she said. “You know what will happen if a war breaks out.”

“Tell that to Ian, not me,” you said. “He seemed to be very interested in a war the last time we spoke. I know what happens if a war breaks out, does he?”

“He’s still very excited to prove himself,” she said, making you clench your jaw. “So he may come across a bit… wild but he will not start a war.”

“Funny how everyone around him seems to have to make excuses for him.”

“So many people died before the truce,” she insisted. “So many families. I know that your father promised you that position, but you cannot set the whole city on fire just because he changed his mind. Ian is the heir now, you and everyone else need to make your peace with it.”

Anger was pulsing through your veins and you dug your fingernails into your palm, then pushed at your plate and stood up.

“I have this thing, so…”

“Y/N—”

“And for the record, I’m not setting the whole city on fire,” you told her. “Make sure to hear the same thing from Ian, will you? Because from the looks of it, people aren’t that thrilled to do business with him when he’s been foaming at the mouth to start a war.”

With that, you walked out of the restaurant with your bodyguards following you.

As much as you hated to admit, your aunt’s words did manage to make you even more restless. You had tried to take a nap but it was no use, and by the time Bucky got home, you had been pacing in the apartment for almost an hour now. He had some blood on him so he had gone straight to the bathroom to take a long shower, and when he came back, he found you by the window, your gaze fixed on the skyline.

“Hey beautiful.”

You looked over your shoulder and tried to smile at him.

“Hey,” you said. “Whose blood was it?”

“Some idiot,” he said. “Not important. Are you okay?”

“How was the meeting with Anna?”

“It was good, everything is going pretty smoothly. Are you okay?”

You turned around to see him better, then nodded your head.

“Sure!” you said. “There’s uh…there’s dinner in the—”

“What’s going on?” he cut you off, stepping closer to you and you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s been a long day.”

“I thought you were meeting Becca today.”

“I did,” you said. “Then my aunt asked to have lunch together so that totally ruined my day.”

He raised his brows. “What did she say?”

“Usual bullshit,” you said. “She wants me to support Ian.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, that’s gonna happen.”

“And Ian is intimidated by you.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Does he also know the only reason he’s alive is because of the truce he’s been so excited to break? Someone should let him know.”

“He thinks he’s untouchable, you know that,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “He doesn’t even carry a gun, he’s that sure of himself. Ryan carries his gun for him.”

Bucky threw his head back. “Does he—” he started but was cut off when his phone vibrated on the table. Your heart skipped a beat as he read the text message, then held up the phone.

“So…” he said. “Are we doing this tonight?”

You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster before you ran a hand over your face.

“Bucky, is this a mistake?”

He tilted his head. “Why would it be a mistake?”

“We’re ordering a hit on a shipment,” you whispered. “That’s breaking the truce.”

“Eh, it’s not like they’ll know who did it.”

“But if they somehow figure it out?” you insisted as you stepped away from him to pace in the room again. “I keep telling myself Ian is the wrong choice, but what does it say about me that I’m willing to risk war? That I’m willing to risk so much bloodshed just to get there?”

“That you have what it takes.”

“Do I?” you asked him. “At that cost? You heard the same thing I did while we were growing up, over and over again. Never break the truce—”

“We’re not breaking the truce,” he assured you. “No one will know it’s us, and even if they did somehow figure it out; your father will kill me on grounds of breaking the truce sweetheart, nothing will happen to you.”

Even the thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t say that,” you murmured, rubbing at your eyes. “Just don’t.”

He shot you a playful smile. “I thought you wanted me dead.”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” you grumbled as you approached the window to look outside again. “It just feels…”

“Overwhelming?” he asked you as he came closer before his hands clasped over your shoulders, massaging there, making your eyes flutter close.

“A little,” you admitted and he hummed.

“Of course it’s overwhelming, we’re pushing you to the top.”

You opened your eyes again, then turned around to look at him better.

“Why are you risking your own life for this?”

“Because I want to see you at the top of the food chain,” he said, then flashed you a smirk. “And on top of me but—”

“Bucky,” you said warningly as if that didn’t make your stomach do a happy flip despite the tension and he chuckled.

“Because unlike what your father seems to think, you’re the right choice for this.”

“And you still think that about me even if I’m putting the truce in danger right now?” you asked and his smile widened.

“You could shoot me right now and I’d still think that, princess.”

You nibbled on your lip, a warmth spreading in your chest before you let out a bitter chuckle.

“We’re both fucked up, you do realize that?”

“I know,” he said. “But fucked up or not, will you be alright when Ian inevitably burns your father’s empire down? The empire that belongs to you?”

You swallowed thickly as he ran his fingertips over your bare arm, awakening fire underneath your skin.

“Stop playing by your father’s rules,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “It’s your game now, you make the rules.”

You pursed your lips together before taking a deep breath, then looked up at him.

“Give the order.”

Bucky smiled at you, then touched the phone’s screen before taking it to his ear.

“Do it,” he said, then hung up, making you let out a breath, your head spinning because of the adrenaline rushing through you. Bucky stepped closer to press a kiss on your temple and you rested your forehead on his chest for a moment, letting his irresistible scent fill your nostrils.

“You’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” you muttered to his chest and pulled back to nod your head as if trying to convince yourself. “I am.”

“You are,” Bucky said, then smiled at you. “So let’s get drinks and dessert, hm? To celebrate your first ever hit order in the business?”

A nervous laughter climbed up your throat. “What?”

“Yeah I’ll even put a candle on the champagne— or on the cake, I haven’t decided yet,” he told you, pulling you by the wrist through the room while you giggled.

“Bucky wait, I need to do my makeup if we’re going out—”

“Less whining more walking princess, come on,” he said and you snatched your coat off the hanger as you walked past it, then followed him out of the apartment, still smiling.

Chapter 27

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fallstaticexit · 5 days

Text

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Source for tarot reading

Transcript under the cut

Morgan: Ever done this before?

Nancy: Can’t say that I have.

Morgan: Are you as put off about this as that other bible thumper?

Nancy: [rolls eyes] We’re not all the same. I’m more than my faith.

Morgan: I don’t doubt that. I’m sure there’s many layers to you. Where are you from?

Nancy: Brindleton Bay.

Morgan: Really, I’m from Portridge, a small town south of the Bay. Originally.

Nancy: Yeah? So, how did you end up a Fyres?

Morgan: Great question. My mom was his secretary. Super scandalous shit, which would explain while the Royal Barbie hates my guts. He’s not a bad step dad though. Hell of lot better than my actual dad. So, your parents-

Nancy: Isn’t the probing developing a bias or something?

Morgan: Just a little small talk. So, is there a question you want answered? Perhaps, a question about your past, your present or your future?

Nancy: I-

Nancy Narrates: [I want to get forget my past. I want to survive my present. I want to escape my future. Could there really be an answer for all that in those cards]

Nancy: I don’t know...

Morgan: That’s ok. You intention will guide us.

Morgan: Pick three cards that call to you. Based on the three, we will see what the cards have to say about your past, present and future.

Nancy: And you believe in this?

Morgan: We believe what we believe in, right? You have your three?

Nancy: I think so..

Morgan: Let’s take a look.

Morgan: Your past—the Upright Fool. Innocence. Curorsity. Something new and exciting—perhaps a first love in your youth that swept you off your feet?

Nancy Narrates: [Already I hated this...]

Morgan: Your present- the Reversed Star. Insecurity. Self doubt. A loss of faith. Interesting. Perhaps a struggle with one’s own faith? Are you having any doubts, Nancy? About yourself? About your God?

Morgan: Your future- the Upright Devil. Lust. Obsession. Temptation. Could be for the material things of life, or maybe a desire of the flesh.

Nancy: [clears throat] That all seems incredibly vague.

Morgan: [grins] Does it? Your poker face could use some work. Let me ask you something. Who exactly did I remind you of? Someone from your past?

Morgan: Your silence is very telling. I have a real gift for reading people.

Nancy: I’m sure you believe you do.

Morgan: [laughs] I really do!

Morgan: Tightly wound, fidgeter. You bite the hell out of your nails, right at the skin on the tips of your fingers, unconsciously. You pick at it until it bleeds. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to your own body. The pain, that is.

Morgan: Right?

Geoffrey: You made it! And making friends! Sorry, am I interrupting girl talk?

Morgan: It’s cool, boy wonder. Want me to do your reading?

Geoffrey: Are you kidding? Of course I do!

Nancy: Actually, I think I want to g-

Geoffrey: Really quick, Nance, then I’ll walk you to your dorm!

Geoffrey: Upright Death for my future sounds kind of scary when you think about it, huh? She said it could mean profound change. Sounds promising.

Nancy: [tsks] That could mean literally anything. That whole practice strives on vagueness. You can never be wrong if you’re bound to be right.

Geoffrey: Yeah, but it’s about how you perceive it, right? It’s unique. She did yours, didn’t she? What did yours say?

Nancy: Yeah, I um, don’t remember.

Geoffrey: Maybe you can ask her again. You two seem to hit it off.

Nancy: [huffs] Please. I am not going back to that shabby bar. She’s a sham. Those cards mean nothing. It’s stupid.

Geoffrey: [sighs]

Nancy: What?

Geoffrey: [blows raspberries]

Nancy Narrates: [Truth was, I was more curious than anything]

Nancy: So. Those cards. Could they...I don’t know- tell me something that could happen in a week? Like if I asked if I’ll pass my Statistics exam?

Nancy Narrates: [I was completely captivated by this otherworldly experience, whether I’d admit it outloud or not]

Nancy Narrates: [and Morgan was always happy to indulge me]

Nancy: [whispers] So I past my exam. How does this even work? I mean, how could they know? The cards. Could you do another reading after the debate?

Nancy Narrates: [But of all the questions I did ask, there was one that burned inside me more]

[heavy metal spills into the hallway]

Morgan: [startled] Nancy?

Nancy: Is this a bad time? I know it’s late...I can come back another time. I just have so much on my mind and I can’t sleep.

Morgan: You want another reading?

Nancy: Is that ok?

Morgan: Of course it is, Nancy. Come in.

Morgan: Sorry for all the smoke. I can open a window.

Knox: Babe, who’s this? It’s not my birthday.

Morgan: [smirks] Want me to get rid of him? I can.

Knox: Hey! I’ll be quiet! Won’t even know I’m here.

Nancy: I don’t mind. I just had a question.

Nancy: Could you do a reading for someone else, even if they’re not here?

Morgan: [hums] Not really...not without their permission or their intention. Who is this person to you?

Nancy: [looks away] Someone from my past. Someone I need to forget but- I can’t.

Morgan: Did this person hurt you?

Nancy: [shakes head] If anything, I hurt them. I ruined them with my... [lowly] um, perversions. I just need to know if they’re ok. If they hate me for it.

Morgan: [softly] I see... Here’s what we’ll do. Just like before, I’ll do a three card spread.

Morgan: Set your intention. Clear your mind. Ask your question. The first card is ‘you’. The middle card is ‘them’. The third card is the relationship.

Nancy Narrates: [‘Vanessa, do you hate me?’ ‘Do you blame me?’ ‘Do you regret loving me?’ ‘Do you know that I never stopped loving you?’]

Nancy Narrates: [‘Do you know that I’m sorry?’ ‘Do you know that I miss you?’ ‘Do you know that I need you?’]

Morgan: [exhales] It says... that you are a filled with love, Nancy, even though the world around you wants to drain you of it. There’s just too much of it inside of you and your friend-

Nancy: [weakly] Vanessa.

Morgan: [smiles] Vanessa. She loves you all the same. She may be experiencing her own hurt in this world, but having loved you keeps her strong. You two brought something bright and beautiful into each other’s lives.

Morgan: You can’t rid her from your life, because she’s apart of you, and...I- I think that’s a love worth fighting for, Nancy.

Nancy: [between gulps] Right. Right, thank you. Thanks, Morgan.

Morgan: Wait, Nancy, you don’t have to leave. It’s ok-

Nancy: It’s fine. I uh- I should go.

[door clicks shut]

Knox: Uhh, did you just make all that up?

Morgan: [weakly] I don’t know why I did that..

#the art of being seen #the landgraabs #nancy landgraab #geoffrey landgraab #morgan fyres #knox greenburg #not an expert on tarot so I do hope I captured it accurately #🙏🏾🥹#sims 4 stories #sims 4 simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 #sims

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weirdmarioenemies · 8 months

Text

Name: Mino

Debut: Tetris Worlds

While researching for last week's post, I discovered something amazing. Something I haven't been able to stop thinking about. No matter what, my mind always comes back to

Tetris Lore

Now, I'm not going to act like Tetris has an overarching story, or that the story of one game is at all relevant to the other games. Tetris Worlds is just one game, and its story is self-contained. But the fact that this Tetris game has a story at all is really incredible!

What would you expect from a Tetris game with a story? Maybe something like, the Tetriminos are all best friends living in Block World, but one day, wuh woh! There's a Bad Guy who's a sphere who hates cubes or something! Luckily, with the power of our friendship and Tetris skills, we can teach him a lesson and banish him once more... or perhaps make a new friend? :)

Please watch the introductory cutscene of Tetris Worlds.

These are the Minos! Minos, in this canon, are a species of cycloptic cubes with fascinating cycloptic faces on their forward-facing faces. I absolutely adore them already. And wouldn't you know it, their sun is going supernova and they are all going to die if they can't evacuate their planet in time. HUH???

This story is so fascinating! I am SO happy that someone came up with this when tasked with making a story for a Tetris game. There was a creative vision, and it appears to be fully realized in this short but unforgettable intro to what could have easily been just another Tetris game!

You get to have a Mino as an avatar! This could be YOU! You can make them wear a funny hat as they hover and squash and stretch on the sidelines while you play Tetris!

The game's manual explains even more about the Minos, most notably that they are MECHANICAL! These things just keep getting better! Living, cycloptic cubes, with an entire futuristic society, and they're machines. The manual also feels the need to remind us that they were probably made by organic beings, as "most" mechanical beings are. And I find that suspiciously specific...

Look at this fish! This mechanical, cycloptic Mino fish. This was not in the Xbox version's intro, but it was in the PS2 one! For whatever reason, the two had unique animation in their intros, despite using the same voiceover. This fish is shown emerging from water onto land, where it beholds the Tetrions, the sacred and powerful portals in which the game of Tetris takes place. The visual of a fish coming onto land is such in-your-face evolution imagery that I am ENTIRELY convinced that these fish were ancestors of the Minos who would later form civilization! Natural, evolving robots!

...and then this intro goes on to depict the Minos as having TWO eyes. Yeah ok. Sure. I will confidently declare these binocular blockheads as non-canon based on everything else we've seen, ESPECIALLY because the actual gameplay even depicts cycloptic Minos!

Some of them seem to be established characters. This is Izabela. Hi Izabela!

Are you on the edge of your seat, hoping our friends the Minos survive? They do! Savvy Tetris skills allow them to activate the Tetrions (which were left behind by an ancient space-faring civilization. In case you were wondering) and teleport to other planets. Minos live! Hooray. And now you know the Tetris Lore, and can think about it constantly like I do!

Lastly, I made this little image of the Mino leader from Worlds, in the style of a Tetris Friends avatar! I like to think some cross-promotional avatars could have been added if Worlds came out during the lifespan of Tetris Friends. I can only hope that at least someone at The Tetris Company remembers this incarnation of the Minos, and that they could possibly appear in a game once more!

#mino #tetris #tetris worlds #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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amevello-blue · 4 months

Note

Yo back up Donny tried to comfort Raph? This I gotta see

Yes but first of all you have to sit through my rant about this entire scene

They're all standing back to give Donny his space with Leo. They're all worried, hands clenched, tense, but Raph's the only one with his arms crossed over his chest. He's close off right now. They're sharing vulnerabilities, emotions. Raph is not. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want anything to show.

Raph scoffs and jokes "I think you got him hanging on your every word, Don." And Leo stirs. Casey's the one who comments on it, saying, "I think he heard you, Raphy."

Everyone looks kinda intent on this revelation, surprised, but determined. Raph genuinely looks surprised and stunned and almost dare I say frightened? Some of that emotion is leaking through.

Then Mikey does his story, and Raph is... less than impressed. His arms are crossed over his chest again, he's scoffing, he's insulting Leo, saying he's not waking up because he's afraid.

He gets upset. "He got his butt whooped, and now he's too chicken to come back and face it!"

Mikey looks worried, upset, but Donny gets this moment of... Realization. He knows what Raph's doing. He knows Raph's going to say things he doesn't mean. He knows Raph.

Donny says, "that's enough, Raph." He doesn't scold him, or get mad at him about it. Just. Set his hand on his shoulder and says that's enough. That's enough getting angry at Leo when we all know that it's not Leo you're angry at.

Raph's trying really hard. He turns away from Donny. He's squeezing his eyes shut. He's trying not to cry. This is the comforting part I mean.

He shakes Don's hand off, which surprises Donny. Implying this method has worked to calm Raph down before.

"Well I say who needs ya? It's not like we can't get on without you playing fearless leader." Interestingly when Raph says that they'd be fine without him, it focuses on Leo, who is bruised and unconscious and spent hours in the rain trying to escape the Foot because he couldn't bring them back to April's. He knew he couldn't bring them back to April's. He could have gotten help there, but that would risk putting his family in danger.

Then, when you see Raph again...

He's crying. And Donny's shock has turned to genuine concern for Raph.

And he turns away from Donny more, and Donny's expression softens from concern to understanding. The fact that this scene is set up like this, where Raph is crying and Donny is the one watching him in the background, it hits me a certain way. Donny doesn't cry. Not after Kirby, not after Honeycutt, not when he realizes that he's going to have to kill his entire family to stop the Shredder. (In Exodus and in SAINW.) But Raph's here, crying, at their first big defeat. One of them has been defeated, broken, and only lived because their enemy was playing with him like a cat toy.

And Donny is RIGHT THERE.

Anyway, Raph tells the story of how he accepted Leo's leadership when they were kids, that strongest and bravest do not necessarily make for the best leader who makes the best decisions for the team.

And he's struggling again. "I don't even know why I told you that story. I guess I just... What I'm tryin to say is..." And he can't finish his sentence. He just trails off he clutches at his head, his face, he can't look at anyone, can't let them see the expression he's making.

And Leo, who has only reacted to Raph's voice this entire time, is only shown to be reacting to Raph's voice, stirs again.

Splinter reassures him this time. "Your brother hears you, Raphael. He understands."

And Raph, he doesn't say anything. He just. Goes to the window. And imo is processing the fact that he knows they can't survive without Leo. They need their fearless leader (a nickname that Raph gave him in the first place.) That's what that story meant. They need Leo. Raph needs Leo.

anyway the whole scene makes me incredibly emotional. The farmhouse arc wasn't just a Leo arc, it was very much a Raph arc as well. It was learning his brother isn't fearless. Isn't invincible. Leo is breakable. Raph literally helps Leo put himself (and his swords) back together. And I don't think Raph would have ever realized that Leo needed that kind of help if this scene hadn't happened earlier.

Cause the thing is, Leo was afraid. He was terrified of coming back and facing that failure. Failure is SUCH a big part of his character, his fear of it, his fight against it, and Raph... Raph hit the nail on the head. But telling stories of the times Leo was strong, the times that his family has needed him, was what brought Leo back.

And I think Raph realized at that point that. Maybe Leo needs help sometimes. Maybe he isn't Mr Perfect Ninja Son. Maybe Raph can be the one to help.

#tmnt 2003 #ame talks

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gffa · 10 months

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All right, so maybe I went haring off to another fandom for awhile, but I will never fully let go of my STAR WARS fic reading roots because there's just so much incredible fic here and I have such intense feelings about these characters, like how can I possibly truly leave when this fandom knows how to scratch my id just right or make me cry over fictional characters or hyena laugh because you people are very funny? There's just so much fic that is so good that of course I keep coming back! Especially when it comes to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, there are just so many incredible people making incredible fics for them that feed right back into my love for their twisty, turny, complicated, beautiful, awful relationship. So here's a bunch of Obikin fic because the fandom is amazing and you should go love them as much as I love them, since you can hopefully completely sate yourself on a bunch of fantastic fic to read! Or idk send yourself into a grief coma because sometimes fic writers are almost as mean as canon was, but in the best way, the way that really hits you in the feelings place. Or idk idk just gorge on all the porn because DANG Obikin fandom brings the porn! WHAT KIND OF FIC YOU’LL FIND HERE:

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE

CANON-COMPLIANT (-ISH, WHATEVER) AT LEAST UP UNTIL THE GALAXY GOES PEAR-SHAPED

FUCK THE NOISE OUT OF ANAKIN SKYWALKER’S HEAD

DARTH ASSHOLE CAT SHOULD BE GRABBED BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK AND SCOLDED BACK TO THE LIGHT

FUCK YOU, CANON, THINGS GO A LITTLE NICER IN THIS UNIVERSE

WORLD IS HARD AND COLD, OBIKIN FLUFF IS SOFT AND WARM

MODERN AUS CAN BE FUN AND CHARMING AS HELL AND A GREAT CHANCE TO MAP CANON DYNAMICS ONTO A WORLD WHERE THEY CAN HAVE A HAPPIER LIFE, IT’S A WIN ALL THE WAY AROUND

WHAT DID CANON EVER DO BUT BREAK OUR HEARTS ANYWAY? TIME TO TELL CANON TO FUCK OFF AND WRITE AN AU

TIME TO CRY ABOUT SOME FICTIONAL CHARACTERS

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 121k wip In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker's miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ Together in Slumber by ibex_ascendant, obi-wan/anakin, 2.4k wip Several months after his last confrontation with Darth Vader, Obi-Wan finds himself trapped in a vivid and mysterious mindscape. And he isn't there alone. ✦ Satellite Mind by intermundia, septemberist, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 19.3k Some doors, once opened, can never be closed, and some secrets, once learned, can never be forgotten. or, Five times Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s thoughts, and one time Anakin heard Obi-Wan’s. ✦ Slow Learner by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 12.6k Four times Anakin tried to fit Obi-Wan's big dick inside him and one time he managed it. or; the evolution of their sexual relationship. ✦ Redolent of you by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, dom/sub, 31.3k wip This act of espionage is going to require some class A play at antiquated alpha and omega dynamics, only problem is Anakin has never submitted in his life and it's certainly not within his nature,or so Obi-Wan thinks. ✦ Heal Me, My Darling by wasureneba, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, dom/sub, 12.4k Anakin gets sick. Obi-Wan takes care of him. For two weeks. Alone. This would be easier if Anakin wasn't quite so gone for Obi-Wan. Or if this didn't involve a daily stab in the shebs. ✦ For He, too, is King by MayMeows, obi-wan/anakin & padme, NSFW, historical au, 7.7k “I am here to present myself to the man who now calls himself King of my people.” Obi-Wan would be impressed as Anakin’s title as God-King, born from the divine himself, often struck people with awe, terrifying or glorifying, but Queen Amidala’s voice is as strong as her shoulders are squared. ✦ How to Save a Galactic Republic Without Really Trying by Sharp_Tongue, obi-wan/anakin & mace & yoda & quinlan & palpatine, nsfw, time travel, 23.9k After defeating Vader on a barren, nameless moon, Obi-Wan had let go of the past. But the past hadn’t let go of him. ✦ (feel like i die) ‘til i feel your touch by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin & yoda & mace & ahsoka, 15.5k OR; Obi-Wan gets himself cursed and makes it everyone’s, but mainly Anakin’s, problem.

CANON-COMPLIANT (-ISH, WHATEVER) AT LEAST UP UNTIL THE GALAXY GOES PEAR-SHAPED AND/OR DIVERGES: ✦ Yellow Surprise by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 11.1k When Anakin is distant with him during a simple negotiation mission Obi-Wan jumps to the wrong conclusion, luckily for him Anakin isn't willing to let him go so easily. ✦ A Good Epithet by Artemis_Unbound, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.2k Obi-Wan should have been happy. He had fulfilled Qui-Gon’s final wish. He had trained Anakin, he had spent ten years teaching the boy and watching him grow, he had cared for him and scolded him and coddled him by turns. He had, for better or worse, been Anakin Skywalker’s Master. ✦ hold on to this lullaby by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin & rex, 1k “Anakin,” Kenobi says with a hint of a reprimand in his voice. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Skywalker staggers further into the room, and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. He rolls his eyes but it doesn’t do anything to mitigate the color high on his face and the effect it has on his features: a pleased expression flashing clear as ion fire. Having made his way to one of the chairs, he drops down onto it with the elegance of a Hutt. ✦ Any Other World by mysticmjolnir, obi-wan/anakin & vader & leia & reva, NSFW, dimension hopping, 24.2k wip Anakin has been looking for his Master for a very long time. Finally, on Mapuzo, he finds him. ✦ sea to a desert by maragny, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 3.1k An interlude and an aftermath; or: how to love someone you seem to have spent half your life loving. ✦ spirit meets the bone by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, time travel, dom/sub, 2k Or, the Force keeps sending Anakin forward in time from the Clone Wars. ✦ Azúcar, Sudor by Delzi, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking/discipline, 18.6k wip Anakin can't stand Obi-Wan's new disciplinary tactic, but he absolutely loves it. ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. ✦ dream a little dream of me by answersinahauntedclub, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 10.3k Anakin’s eyes snapped open. Oh no. Oh no. Anakin slumped back into the bed, staring down at himself in horror. Anakin Skywalker had just had a wet dream about Obi-Wan Kenobi. [or—you think you have problems? try having wet dreams of your friend-slash-former-master and then trying to figure out what that’s supposed to mean.] ✦ sea to a desert by maragny, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 3.1k An interlude and an aftermath; or: how to love someone you seem to have spent half your life loving.

FUCK THE NOISE OUT OF ANAKIN SKYWALKER’S HEAD: ✦ Strings Pulled Taut by preromantics, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k (AKA Anakin gets a bunch of gunk in his hair, Obi-Wan has been hyper-fixated, and it all bursts like a bubble.) ✦ dark red by wesnenski, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.9k He feels Obi-Wan before he sees him: a ripple in the Force, a glow of warmth in the darkness. When he appears from the shadows like a bleary-eyed spectre, Anakin can only look up at him, nostrils flared, lip quivering. Here is his Master, tired and gaunt but solid and present and real. ✦ Take Care of Yourself, I Wish I Could by Kefalion, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 7k While Obi-Wan and Anakin are alone on a planet during a mission, Anakin goes into a presentation heat. One Obi-Wan will not help him through no matter how much they'd both want it. Not that they know that want is mutual. ✦ Fever by dirkygoodness, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, cat boy!anakin, 3.5k Obi-Wan wakes up to a cuddly (Ny)Anakin and is met with something he isn't expecting. He's going to have to deal with it though. And enjoy himself as he does. ✦ sink into the dunes by stardies, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 9k [A collection of small Obikin drabbles. Each chapter will have its own one shot.] 01. sfw, anakin’s separation anxiety. 02. first time nsfw. 03. obikin zine piece, sith!obi-wan, jedi!anakin, handjobs. ✦ a necessary respite by Anonymous, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.6k to be fair, all of this is obiwan’s fault. even though his master is calmly sorting through reports the faint buzz of arousal in the back of both of their heads is majorly coming from him, anakin just can’t help but react to it. ✦ the lean and hungry type by tideswept, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 4.5k And so is Anakin, really, for being excited about this rather than angry. He wets his lower lip, striving to cohere his thoughts into something that isn’t appallingly horny, when Master speaks. “I’m not in rut,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t spring that on you.” “I mean,” Anakin pauses. “You could.” ✦ when people show you who they are, believe them by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, spanking, dom/sub, 3k Anakin has a meeting with the Chancellor. Obi-Wan convinces him to take a slow morning instead. ✦ needs must by silianrail, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, dual sex!anakin, 1.7k Anakin must be the neediest omega in the entire temple, if not on the entire planet. But if Anakin is needy, what does that make Obi-Wan, who, after all, bends to so many of his padawan’s desires? ✦ Use Me by kittimau, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.5k Anakin knows what Obi-Wan needs, even if he won't say it.

✦ Insatiable by TheSopherfly, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.8k Obi-Wan meets Anakin’s eyes with a rueful smile. “You wanted it fast, yes?” “Yes.” Even without their responsibilities looming, Anakin would’ve wanted it like this; quick and dirty, like they just can’t help themselves. “Yeah. Fast is perfect.” “Good,” Obi-Wan says, punctuating the word with a single thrust. “Because I don’t think I’ll last long.” Or; With the twins still asleep, Anakin and Obi-Wan steal some time for themselves. ✦ Hazy Shade of Winter by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.7k Obi-Wan runs hot; Anakin most definitely does not. Thankfully Obi-Wan is there to warm Anakin up when things get unusually cold in the Jedi Temple. ✦ The Love You Want by passeridae, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, potential dub con-esque (read the tags), 6.8k They've returned to their rooms after sparring, flushed and laughing and close enough that the very air feels heated between them. Once the door has closed, Obi-Wan turns to Anakin, smiling, takes Anakin's jaw in the cup of his hand and kisses him like the first blush of spring. "You'll be good for me, won't you?" he murmurs, and Anakin does nothing more than dreamily nod because he knows just what to do when he's slipped under like this. Knows his job is to be obedient and pliant and good. ✦ Handle Me With Care by greeneyes_blondequiffs, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 5.3k Obi Wan wants Anakin but he knows he shouldn't. He also knows that there is no way he could ever act on it - or so he thought. ✦ tear me apart by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, dom/sub, 2.4k Obi-Wan uses Anakin in the Council Chamber ✦ A Lesson in Listening by GayCheerios, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, dom/sub, toys, 4.4k “Anakin,” Obi-Wan says simply. Anakin feels chills run down his spine. That tone means everything except simplicity. “Bedroom.” His husband commands. ✦ Keeping Company by Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 11.1k "So, will you? Will you help me through my heat? Please, I want you to fuck me, Master, I need it." Anakin doesn't care that he's begging already, but he's getting even wetter between his legs and he can't help it. Obi-Wan doesn't seem to mind anyway, because he groans and drags his fingers up into Anakin's hair and tugs slightly, making Anakin gasp. "Force, yes, I'll give you what you need, Anakin." ✦ king unmaker by unbitten, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, transmasc!anakin, royalty au, 4.4k How to get your King to stop playing hooky from his appointments to make trips to the brothel? Scold him. Stare disapprovingly. Fuck him yourself.

DARTH ASSHOLE CAT SHOULD BE GRABBED BY THE SCRUFF OF THE NECK AND SCOLDED BACK TO THE LIGHT: ✦ Reunion by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/darth vader, ~1k Some sweetness to help with the absolute agony of Obi-Wan lol ✦ The Jedi Child by RowenaNie, obi-wan/darth vader & luke & leia & cast, NSFW, pregnant!anakin, 48.1k “The emperor has put my replacement inside of me,” Vader said. ✦ Hand in Unlovable Hand by Rachello344, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, 2.8k Post Kenobi Part VI: Instead of leaving Vader for dead, Obi-Wan finds himself unable to abandon his dear friend again and so takes him with him. How can Obi-Wan Kenobi live without the other half of himself? Whatever it takes, he will drag Anakin back to himself, kicking and screaming. ✦ dreamscape melodies by egeria, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, 2.9k "The layers you Jedi wear are ridiculous," Vader grumbled. Obi-Wan let out a huff. "We're in a dream, are we not? Can we not just will our clothes off?" -- or: Vader is in heat and Obi-Wan is in his dream. It's still complicated. ✦ to restrain the darkness by treescape, obi-wan/darth vader, NSFW, some dom/sub, 2k Or, Vader wants Obi-Wan to tie him up. ✦ dreams of old by treescape, obi-wan/darth vader, nsfw, 4.1k wip Obi-Wan surrenders to Vader on Jabiim in exchange for everyone else's freedom.

FUCK YOU, CANON, THINGS GO A LITTLE NICER IN THIS UNIVERSE: ✦ afterimages by shatou, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k Mustafar is nothing but a bad dream. ✦ Sticky by Delziae, obi-wan/anakin & padme & ahsoka & rex & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, 25.9k [Or: In which Anakin is too horny to handle and Obi-wan has a bit less control than he originally thought.] ✦ That Never Wrote To Me by Artemis_Unbound, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, 5.3k After the Rako Hardeen mission, everyone Obi-Wan loves has turned away from him. It’s been months since he’s even seen Anakin, but their bond had been closed off for years. Knowing that Anakin would never want him the way Obi-Wan wanted Anakin had been painful enough, but at least he still had their friendship. And now even that’s gone, and the cold has settled into his bones. Acute Isolation Syndrome is so rare that Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize the symptoms. Doesn’t even realize that he’s dying. ✦ dream a little dream of me by answersinahauntedclub, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & padme, 10.3k [or—you think you have problems? try having wet dreams of your friend-slash-former-master and then trying to figure out what that’s supposed to mean.] ✦ Stargazing by thegingerwrites, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 21k Anakin and Obi-Wan have become too well-known on the Holonet to take on undercover assignments anymore. But desperate times call for desperate measures and the Council asks them to make contact with a Separatist defector at a gala hosted on Mandalore. At least the event is a masquerade. ✦ praise you by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 17.9k An act of insubordination, a crash landing and a trek through the forests of an uncharted planet bring Anakin and Obi-Wan to a very hospitable village. Sure they think Anakin is a god, but really, what's wrong with wanting to be appreciated? ✦ terribly inconvenient and incredibly terrific by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, omegaverse, 24.8k Obi-Wan has the sheer nerve to imply that Anakin is ill-suited for a mission he himself is going on, which means that Anakin will stop at nothing to prove his old master wrong. After all, Anakin can do anything Obi-Wan can do, thank you very much. Even if maybe, just this one time, Obi-Wan is right. This mission relies on the one area of Anakin's life he's never spent much time or effort thinking about: his omega designation and Obi-Wan's alpha one. But there's no way that Anakin is going to back down now. What will Obi-Wan do? Go to the planet with another, non-Anakin omega? Don't make him laugh. He's Obi-Wan's partner. And Obi-Wan is his alpha. Alpha master. Same thing. ✦ and when you look at me, the weight of how i feel is heavy on me by brahe, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & depa & qui-gon & rex & cast, 37.9k “Jus’ like a sun,” Anakin murmurs, and Obi-Wan has to strain to hear it, almost misses it. He stills. “Beautiful shining sun,” Anakin continues, and presses his face further into the pool of robes. His voice is slow and sleepy, and Obi-Wan realizes he can tell Anakin is about to drop off into sleep. He blinks, lifting his head to stare down at him in something between awe and shock. That seems to be the standard operating procedure when it comes to Anakin, he thinks, a little wry, a little wondrous.

WORLD IS HARD AND COLD, OBIKIN FLUFF IS SOFT AND WARM: ✦ a vacationer's guide to being unexpectedly married by treescape, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 7.8k “A vacation, you need,” Master Yoda had insisted firmly beneath their incredulous stares when they’d first received their instructions. “On a beach, perhaps, hmmm?” ✦ The Lonely Mollusk by temple_mistress, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia, nsfw, 2k Obi-Wan was incredibly horny, Anakin was, Force-bless him, more than ready to oblige, and the children were miraculously still sleeping. ✦ looking for trouble by orphan_account, obi-wan/anakin (mentioned obi-wan/anakin/padme), spanking, 1.7k Anakin gets in a fight. Obi-Wan cleans him up and spanks him.

MODERN AUS CAN BE FUN AND CHARMING AS HELL AND A GREAT CHANCE TO MAP CANON DYNAMICS ONTO A WORLD WHERE THEY CAN HAVE A HAPPIER LIFE, IT’S A WIN ALL THE WAY AROUND: ✦ (I just) died in your arms tonight by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & padme & cast, modern au, 2.5k wip Where Obi-Wan is still a master of politics and Anakin still fixes spaceships and they’re still irrevocably obsessed with one another. ✦ Win Condition by passeridae, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, F1 au, 4.3k Anakin has just won his first race of his F1 career and Obi-Wan, his longtime trainer and partner, knows just what his boy should get as a reward. (His dick. The reward is his dick.) ✦ Hooked on You by whohatessand, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 5.2k With his wife's approaching senatorial election, Anakin Skywalker tries desperately to be the perfect husband she needs. Little does Padmé know, her husband has been sleeping with her campaign manager, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for quite a while now. ✦ we’re swimming with the sharks (until we drown) by decideophobia, obi-wan/anakin, modern au, fake married, 5.8k wip He looks up and meets Anakin’s eyes. A thoughtful expression passes over his face. “Married people are paid significantly more,” he says then, slowly, looking at Anakin like he’s trying to solve a riddle. Anakin stares, dumbstruck. “Huh.” ✦ Would You Like Cream With That? by ranianke, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, professor obi-wan, 2.1k Obi-Wan was a good teacher. His students learned the content, he got flattering reviews (even when you ignored the chili pepper Rate My Professors reviews that he could not seem to get taken down), and he generally liked teaching. Good professors did not sleep with their students. ✦ Pride & Preparation by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, school au, 5.6k “You’re beautiful,” Anakin praised, making Obi-Wan blush. “And nervous.” Obi-Wan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Of course I’m nervous.” “You shouldn’t be,” Anakin said easily, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips. “I love you, and this is going to be really fun.” ✦ swear each night to let him go by vorpalstars, obi-wan/anakin & padme & ahsoka, NSFW, modern au, professor!obi-wan, 10.3k wip Anakin develops an unfortunate amount of lust for his literature teacher ✦ Seven Minutes in Anakin by Saratutti, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, dom/sub, 1.9k Fully enamored doesn't even begin to describe Anakin’s captivation with the gorgeous professor he has stumbled into dating this Christmas season. ✦ The Melody Wakes the Heart by edgeofn1ght, obi-wan/anakin, modern au, 3.5k However, it's practically love at first sight when Obi-Wan passes a new busker working the alley he passes through every day going to and from work. ✦ Pick-up Games by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin, modern au, 1.1k Ben’s quiet afternoon is ruined by a basketball player who needs some medical attention. He doesn’t mind too much. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 22: Brakebills by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 10.2k Anakin Skywalker was not a typical student of Brakebills University for Magical Pedagogy.

WHAT DID CANON EVER DO BUT BREAK OUR HEARTS ANYWAY? TIME TO TELL CANON TO FUCK OFF AND WRITE AN AU: ✦ death by any other name by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon, vampire au, 11.5k While on a mission during his years as a Padawan, Obi-Wan escapes the tight hold of death transformed into something not quite human. In the years following, he isn’t always so lucky. ✦ Till Human Voices Wake Us by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin, mer!anakin, 2.7k It’s late summer when Obi-Wan first notices a flash of gold between the waves. ✦ Goodbye by Ripki, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon, nsfw, 1.2k Anakin has no wish to leave Obi-Wan, not when they have just been reunited. Luckily for him, Obi-Wan is good at making their goodbye very memorable. ✦ tender like a bruise by stardies, obi-wan/anakin & cast, omegaverse, 6.8k wip In a stroke of desperation, Obi-wan mates Anakin Skywalker by force on the fiery planet of Mustafar to stop his Fall and save his life. Taken back to Coruscant and imprisoned, Anakin feels the senate's pressure for justice, and Obi-wan, his mate and former mentor is determined to give him another chance. ✦ canaries underground by TheGoodDoctor, obi-wan/padme & references to anakin/padme & obi-wan/anakin & obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, padme lives, 10k There are good days, and bad days. This is a good one. ✦ use my body to break your fall by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & padme & ahsoka & mace & yoda & palpatine & cast, NSFW, Not a Jedi!Anakin, Sith!Obi-Wan, 63.5k Obi-Wan Kenobi is too good at being a Sith Lord general of the Separatist army. The Jedi Council approaches Anakin with an offer he can't refuse. These things are, actually, related.

TIME TO CRY ABOUT SOME FICTIONAL CHARACTERS: ✦ you can't just leave me by amadwinter, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, omegaverse, 1.6k Anakin swears he’s above his Omega instincts, but when he’s sparring with his Alpha master one day, some wires get crossed that leave him unable to distinguish friend from foe. A primal fear consumes him, and no amount of Jedi training will shake the feeling he needs to escape. He needs to protect himself from the dangerous Alpha circling around him, searching for any sign of weakness. When backed into a corner, an Omega’s last line of defense is their bite. After all, an Alpha would never hurt their mate… ✦ A Little Early, A Little Late by greeneyes_blondequiffs, obi-wan/anakin, omegaverse, pregnant!anakin, 7.4k Anakin finds out he's pregnant. The problem is that his mating ceremony isn't for another four months. ✦ Sweet Surprise by greeneyes_blondequiffs, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, omegaverse, pregnant!anakin, 12.3k Obi Wan and Anakin are forced to land on an unfamiliar planet. Anakin is perplexed by everyone's obvious interest in him, unsure what could be causing it. That is, until he receives some unexpected news. The problem is, Anakin's not quite sure he believes it. The other problem is what Obi Wan might think when he finds out. ✦ That Never Wrote To Me by Artemis_Unbound, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & vokara, NSFW, omegaverse, pregnant!anakin, 5.3k After the Rako Hardeen mission, everyone Obi-Wan loves has turned away from him. It’s been months since he’s even seen Anakin, but their bond had been closed off for years. Knowing that Anakin would never want him the way Obi-Wan wanted Anakin had been painful enough, but at least he still had their friendship. And now even that’s gone, and the cold has settled into his bones. Acute Isolation Syndrome is so rare that Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize the symptoms. Doesn’t even realize that he’s dying.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obikin #obianidala #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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