#its blue screened like 3 times today

[skxrbrand]

[silentcryracha]

1k special love week: 1. Bang chan

Pairing: bang chan x reader

Context: part one of eight for my Special Love Week in celebration of 1k followers (🤍). Drabble based on 3 prompts which are 'loves when + kink + sex position'.

Warnings: 18+ only, very minimum buildup, it's 99% smut, one shot, see prompts, fingering (f receiving), intercourse p in v, non protected (but they're married), talk of cum & its consequences (breeding kink hello?), pet names (baby, my love) , a couple uses of the word daddy

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: Bang Chan loves when you get needy + Dom/sub & Breeding Kink + missionary (+variations)

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chan loves it when you're needy. Anytime, really. It may be sexual but it also can not be. Being needed is a love language to him. He loves to help, to be the person you go to when you need something. May be something silly like moving a piece of furniture (strenght kink hello?), something more serious like an advice.

Of course he's into it because he cares about you and he loves you, but let's be honest here, it also does feed his ego in some way. That especially comes into play when this neediness is paired with horniness. Then it's over, for both you and him.

You know he likes to be more dominant most of the times, but even then, at the end of the day, it's really you who has him wrapped around your finger.

"Channie are you busy?" you ask, maybe even with a slightly exaggerated whiny voice.

He turns his head a bit to look at you from his seat at the living room table where he'd been working on his laptop for hours.

"Kind of, why baby?" he answered back, promptly welcoming you with one arm as you walked up to him.

"I was wondering if you could give me a massage?" he smirked , squeezing the flesh of your waist sightly.

"Just out of the blue?"

"Actually I think I strained by back a bit from cleaning today" you chuckled, but his smiled dropped so fast it was almost comical. A mixture of worry and annoyance taking its place.

"Did you move the couch by yourself again?" he scolded, standing up and quickly closing the laptop's screen simultaneously. "You hurt yourself last time too. I told you to call me if you needed help"

His tone was becoming a bit intimidating, but you knew he just wanted to help, and especially for you not to get hurt.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, putting your doe eyes on to try and sweet talk yourself out of it.

"I didn't 'hurt' myself! I just got tired, alright? It happens" you shrugged, but you could tell he wasn't happy.

"It happens but if you did as i told you and asked me for help, it wouldn't have" he responded, then added "Now go lay down, I'm gonna get some aloe."

That's when dom/sub dynamic jumps out. When Chan gets annoyed, fake or to play, you automatically obey. It would be a lie to say that you didn't know where this whole situation was gonna go the second you started it.

"Yes" you tried your best to suppress a smile as you walked in your shared bedroom, turning on the warm colored night light.

Then you laid on the bed on your belly, arms hugging the pillow on which your head rested.

A couple of minutes later Chan walked in the room. You didn't quite see him, as your face was turned the opposite way, but you felt him climbing on the bed, straddling your legs.

"Take the sweater off, or it's gonna get sticky" he says. You get up enough to comply, placing it on your breasts, then laying back down.

"Warm it up a bit, please" you asked softly, knowing that the aloe was going to be super cool against your warm skin. It was the chilly autumn season, after all.

"Yeah" he reassured. You heard the sound of the bottle popping open and close, then being discarded to the side.

"I'll try my best" he spoke again, rubbing his palms together to warm up the gel, "But you didn't listen and hurt yourself, so you gotta handle a bit of cold. It'll feel better." His tone was pretty neutral, but the scolding was clear.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

"Do you want the massage or not?" He stopped his movements. You sighed.

"Sorry"

"That's more like it" it was subtle, but you knew him well enough to know he had a stupid smirk on his face. Unfortunately, you were so down bad, that it turned you on even more.

Suddenly his hands touched the skin of your shoulder blades, making you gasp a bit.

"Are they too cold, still?"

"No, it's good. I was just surprised" you chuckled. At that point he started the actual massage, skillfully using his thumbs and other fingers to put pressure.

"Relax, alright? Just tell me if it hurts" you nodded at the best of your abilities due to your position, without replying.

Chan kept working, starting from your upper back, then going back and forth between places. You were in fact so relaxed, your eyelids were almost falling shut. Until he got to your shoulders, which got you instantly back to earth, hissing.

"Tough spot?" He asked. You hummed in agreement, making the pressure of his fingers slightly less forceful but still going.

"I can tell" he paused, "How about here?" he moved his thumbs up, at the nape of your neck.

"Mmh, yes. Feels really good" you answered, feeling almost floaty. So much that you involuntarily started sighing softly.

"Does my baby feel better?" His buttery voice, just a tad bit condescending, sparked something in your stomach.

"Uh uh" he chuckled, now using his palms to caress you, all up and down your back, waist, sides.

"Good. 'Cause the gel is completely dry." And despite that, his movements didn't stop. They just changed the intention.

He lightly traced the tip of his fingers around, giving your goosebumps and sometimes eliciting a small giggle because of tickling.

"Are you sleepy?" He asked sweetly. You shook your head no, looking back at him. He was smiling, but his gaze sharpened as he looked at your face.

"Yes, you are" he teased. You tried to hide a cheeky smile, shaking your head again. You were just trying to be childish, shaking your whole body along with your head.

But your cute butt shaking like that right in front of his eyes and dangerously close to his crotch, kind of sealed the deal. He looked down, then back up at you.

Then, suddenly, slap!

You yelped in surprise as both of his hands came down to slap your ass. He laughed.

"No? Show me, then." He challenged. You didn't need to be told twice.

You managed to roll over on your back, with him still hovering over you. His eyes immediately went to your bare tits, but you didn't let him enjoy the view as you pulled him down towards you by his hoodie.

You started kissing, quite passionately right from the get go. But as much as Chan liked to make out, he wanted to get comfortable.

So he paused, taking off his hoodie quickly, as well as his tracksuit pants and boxers, all in one go. In the meantime, you also discarded your sweater, then taking off your own pants and panties.

When finally you were both naked, you immediately went back to kissing. Chan wrapped one arm around your torso, pulling you towards him, as he worked to get the sheets over you two.

You gave him a questioning look at first, not immediately understanding what he was doing.

"You got goosebumps all over" he explained, also getting between your legs.

"Thank you baby" you mumbled, kissing him again sweetly.

You spent several minutes humping each other and making out, with a little biting and sucking, both probably more tired than you cared to admit.

You properly started to lose it when Chan grabbed himself and slid the head of dick around your drenched pussy, including your sensitive clit.

"C-channie please" your finger pads pressed into his shoulders hard as you whined.

"Please, what?" He replied, voice low, eyes glassy and fixated on yours. Lips plump and slightly agape.

A few strands of his hair had started to get damp and stick to his forehead from the head of your bodies, the adrenaline, and probably also because of the heavy duvet.

He looked so fucking good, enough to make you go stupid.

"Please get inside me" you chocked out, "I need it so bad, please baby" desperation dripping from your words.

"Where does my baby need me? Here?" Two of his fingers slid right in your pussy, no resistance whatsoever by how completely wet you were all over.

You whined a bit, trying to get him closer with your arms.

"N-not enough" you sobbed, "I need your cock, please baby, please"

"Since my love asks so nicely..." He leaned down, placing his plush lips on yours in a sweet kiss, distracting you from the moment in which he actually did enter you.

You both sighed and moaned, in ecstasy. You both liked to get freaky, even a bit rough. But missionary, and all its variations to be honest, were your favorites.

In that position he was dominant, in charge of the work. And you were laying there, needy and desperate, like he wanted you. Not to mention the easy accessibility to your tits, waist, legs, ass.

But let's be real, the actual reason why you both loved that position so much it's because it's intense. Romantic, passionate, creates a close connection, and you have each other's faces right there to kiss. What's better than that?

Maybe the fact that he can go deep...like really deep. Especially when he gets into it and puts your legs over his shoulders, or just keeps them spread at his sides.

Not to mention...that the position itself adds greatly to Chan's whole (and obvious) breeding kink. Just the thought of him spilling his seed inside you, and possibly keeping it there as long as possible, just gets him gone.

Chan was keeping his hands on the side of your face as he went back and forth, inside you, at a fast and rough pace.

His mouth alternated in between giving you kisses and spurring you on with his dirty talk.

"How do you feel, my love?" He panted, "Does your Channie's cock make you feel good?" His voice was so erotic and full of tease, it drove you crazy.

"Mmh- y-yes...'so good daddy" you were so out of it you barely realized the word that slipped from your lips. It wasn't the first time, but it wasn't usual.

He chuckled faintly, still going hard on your abused pussy. He leaned down again, starting to kiss and lick the side of your neck, near your ear.

"Your daddy, uh?" He teased, whispering, "That's right. Daddy 'll take care of you"

All that teasing was getting your even more flushed and lightheaded than you already were, your pussy clenching in involuntarily agreement. Chan groaned at that, chuckling wickedly because he knew what he was doing.

"I..." You whined.

"Ssh, I know, it's alright. You close baby?" You nodded, nuzzling his shoulder with your face.

"Good, good girl" he kissed your head, "Come for me"

Didn't take anything more than that for you to reach your high, your hole clenching around his length, and you shivering from the aftermath and intensity.

Chan slowed down but didn't stop, allowing you to gently get off, except that you started grinding on his crotch.

"You wanna come again?" He smirked, short of breath. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for Chan.

"Say it" he ordered, "I wanna hear my little cum slut say that she wants to cum again"

"Ffuuck yes, I-i'm a little cum slut that wants to cum a-again" you exclaimed, suddenly reinvigorated by the new chase to your second orgasm, to which you were already so close.

"Whose?"

"Yours! Your cum slut, your baby, your everything" you responded, desperately. Chan groaned at that, his pace getting faster.

"Yeah, that's fucking right, my love, my whole world" he mumbled, kissing your lips.

"Can I come with you, mmh? Can I, baby?" You nodded frantically, cupping his face in your hands.

"Yes, please come with me, I wan' it" you slur, "Want your cum inside me, fuck" you gasped as he hit a particularly good spot, just above your cervix.

"Fuck yes" he moans, "Want my cum? Wanna make me a real daddy? So everyone knows who you belong to?"

Your legs clenched around his waist, your heels pushing his butt further into you, if that was even possible.

"Yes" you answer, "Wanna be filled up, carry you around with me everywhere"

That was the last drop for you both to orgasm. Him for the first time, and you for your second. Chan groaned deeply, stilling inside you as his seed sprayed your warm walls. While your own pussy pulsated, wet and sticky.

You remained hugged for a good while, him softening inside you. His breath became so quiet and regular that for a moment you thought he had fallen asleep.

"Channie?" You whispered sweetly. He hummed back, making you smile. Your fingers started to lightly scratch his scalp and caress in between his short hair.

"Now, I'm sleepy" he mumbled, hugging your body tighter.

"You can rest, love" you reply.

"Gotta clean you up" he replied back. So at that point you moved delicately, hinting at him to get off of you. You got up, on slightly wobbly legs and almost jumped for how cold the floor was against your hot feet.

You went into your shared bathroom and grabbed a towel, wetting it a bit. You then came back, finding Chan laying on his side, his hand resting on where you should be, waiting.

"Get the covers back a bit, baby" you say, and he complies. You delicately clean his lower area, including his abs which were full off little droplets. Did you squirt a bit? You didn't even realize.

When you were done you went back in the bathroom, and cleaned some droplets of both your juices that had trickled down your thighs. Then discarded the towel, and peed before coming back into the bedroom.

You picked up all the clothes, putting back on the panties and the sweatshirt.

"Baby do you-?" You were asking if he wanted to get redressed, but his eyes were closed and his mouth pouty. He fell asleep. You smiled warmly, just picking up the boxers and putting away the rest of the clothes.

Then you climbed up on the bed, putting one foot then the other in each hole of the boxers, then trying your best to slide them up. Chan did wake up for a slight second, realizing what was happening, and promptly arched his hips to allow you to pull the fabric up all the way.

After that, you reached your arm to turn off the bed light, and then finally you were back hugging your husband, falling asleep quickly as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[jyoongim]

IM OBSESSED WITH ALASTOR X VOX!SISTER READER! (also hi its pixie again lmao)

ok so i was thinking that since vox!sister reader is a “pampered princess” because vox has the power and money to give her anything, alastor does the same! so after a day of hanging out with alastor and shopping and stuff, vox!sister reader goes back to the vees tower wearing red (alastors color, while her clothes r mostly blue to match with vox) vox immediately gets reminded of alastor seeing her clothes and he gets rlly angry and jealous and stuff, and ofc since alastor is a cocky little shit, he makes a broadcast for vox to hear to tell him how much of a good time he and his sister had to piss him off even more! :3

I enjoy writing Vox!sister with Alastor. It brings me joy knowing Vox is just gnawing at his wires knowing Alastor and his baby sister are a couple in very sense of the word hehehe~

————————————————————————————————-

You loved when Alastor took you shopping. Through you could and did have anything you wanted thanks to your brother, it was nice that your lover still chose to spoil you just as much. Today you were out buying a whole new wardrobe and decided that you were in need of a new color scheme. You always wore blue. It was your signature as Vox’s sister and a color you declared only you could wear. But as of late, you strayed from the comforting color to a more fiery palette. 

“I’m home!” You shouted even though you knew your brother already knew you were home. You had your assistant bring all your bags in and you heard the familiar zap of Vox entering the common area. “Finally! I thought I was gonna have to-what the fuck are you wearing?” Vox growled. You smiled and spun around “isn’t it the cutest!? Never thought of myself as a red girl but this color is gorgeous!”

Vox screen glitched. You were wearing red and black. Your usual blue completely gone and replaced by the radio demon’s colors.

”You spent money to look like that fossil? Sis we just finished your closet like last week”

You pouted and shrugged “A few different pieces dont hurt, besides I think its cute to match with my boyfriend”

That’s right how could he forget that Alastor was dating his baby sister.

You skipped to your room with your bags and began to reorganize your closet. Again.

Vox growled as he rubbed his screen.

His antennas buzzed at the change of frequency and his mood became even more sour as Alastor voice filtered through.

”Salutations wayward sinners! I just had a wonderful time with my girlfriend. You lot might know her as the Voxtech pampered princess. Yes yes i know what you’re all thinking…” 

Vox eye twitched.

”me and the little lady had quite a time shopping today. That darling is a looker I tell you, she can make anything look good. My those hips and legs really know how to make a man sweat” Alastor laughed.

”Anyway you might notice the Vees tower slowly changing. I think red is a lovely color and so do my darling.Maybe be on the lookout for a new design change folks. After all blue is such a dull color hehehe”

Vox was fuming.

”I am so going to kill him”

[mystellenia]

tutor session with nerd!ellie

summary: ellie agrees to tutor you, and your first session is today!!

content: sfw!! just some kissing and like light groping if u squint. i wrote this as like you guys lowkey playing around during the study break and i like how chill it is

notes: this took me way too long i need to time manage better

(wc 1.8k)

you sighed in satisfaction, propping your hands on your hips to look at your work. your apartment was basically sparkling after your much needed deep clean in preparation for your and ellie's study session. the two of you agreed that your place would be better since she has a roommate that spends most of her time at their apartment. 

thinking back to your last planetary class—the class after the time you asked ellie if she could tutor you—your lips curl up in a smile, laughing softly to yourself about how the two of you joked in class and how she explained a concept to you that you'd missed while watching her spin her pencil zoning out. 

you glanced at the clock, confirming that you still had time for a shower. it was only 3:15, and you guys had agreed on 4, so you freed your hair of its bun and headed off to the bathroom.  

after stripping and turning the shower on, you scroll on your phone to wait for the water to heat up, the small bathroom's air quickly thickening with steam. your thumb stutters while you clean out your notifications, coming across a text from ellie. 

ellie: hi are we still on for today at 4? and should i bring my textbook or did u get one from the library? 

your thumbs circle around one another as you think of your response. 

you: yess sometime around 4 is still good, i'll send address now 

you: please bring your textbook i haven't gotten around to getting one yet 

the steam from the shower started to fog up your phone screen, causing many typos you luckily caught before hitting the send button. 

turning on your shower playlist, you set your phone on the sink and pull the curtain aside to step inside. 

a quick twenty minutes later, you've finished up your shower and slip on some pjs after lathering your body in lotion. the time on your phone now said 3:48, so you exited your room to the living room to make sure you had everything you needed to study. 

once you laid out all your notes and your laptop, you plopped on the couch and waited. the dancing flame of the candle you lit caught your eye, teasing you after you blew it out in fear that she might think you were trying to 'set the mood' and subsequently relit it. 

fifteen minutes later you hear four soft taps on the door, signaling ellie's arrival. for no reason at all, you look through the peephole and see her standing on the other side of the door staring at her feet, red-brown hair pulled into a loose, low bun and her arms covered by a navy blue henley. that's all you catch, though, before she glances up again and looks at the door, making you jump to the side at the thought of her somehow seeing you through it.  

returning to the door, you turn the doorknob to swing it open and are met by ellie's startled stare before her eyebrows lower again. "hi... am i late?" 

"no, no, of course not," you rush out, "just on time. i was actually just waiting on the couch for you."  

you step aside to make room for her so she can enter, and she quickly glances around before noticing your setup and taking the seat next to yours to unpack her bag.  

once she's fully unpacked everything, with her textbook open on the chapter you went over in class, she pats her thighs and begins, "well, how about we start on what we went over on tuesday, yeah?" 

you dumbly nod as you reach for your notebook to flip to last class's notes.  

"okay, let's see..." while she finds the section your professor left off at, you take a moment to look at her. her brows were slightly furrowed as they always were, and you start to ask her how she got the cut in her right eyebrow but she speaks before you can get it out.

"okay, found it. do you understand everything about planetary atmospheres?" she asks. 

"pshhh, that's a cakewalk," you jest. "just weather, but in space, no?" 

"okay, then, miss genius," she chuckles, finding the next section. "how about planetary formation and habitability?" 

"yeah, isn't that just on, like, explosions? like supernovas?" 

ellie snorts before answering, "not at all, actually. let's start here." 

you feel your ears heat a bit at your complete failure at recalling tuesday's class and pull your knee up to your chest to rest your cheek on it. 

"so you already know that planets form from dust and gas around a young star, right?" you nod, so she continues. "so all planets orbit their own host star—ours is the sun..." 

forty-five minutes later, you stand up and stretch out your stiff joints, heading to the kitchen to grab you and ellie a snack. rummaging through the pantry, you find tortilla chips and immediately think of chips and salsa.  

"hey, we could do chips and salsa," you announce before realizing your apparent lack of preparation. "damn... so there's good news and bad news. which one you want first?" 

she shoots a confused look your way as she answers, "good news, of course." 

"so the good news is that i have tomatoes for us to bite into like apples to pair with the tortilla chips," you say with a cheeky grin. 

ellie drops her phone as her entire face screws up in a grimace, her eyes closing while she thinks. "why... the hell would we bite into tomatoes?" she probes. 

"because, the bad news is that i don't have any salsa. so." 

she seems lost in thought for a moment before asking, "how many tomatoes do you have?" 

you pause to count them, "uhh, like four. why?" 

"because i can make the salsa," she declares while standing up and rolling her sleeves back, revealing an intricate tattoo on her forearm. "can i look in your fridge to see what you have?" 

"yeah, sure," you gape, surprised at her gracious offer. "how do you know how to make salsa, anyway?" 

she speaks into the refrigerator as she bends to grab the tomatoes and other veggies and herbs you'd forgotten about. "just some recipe online," she responds. "but that recipe is what my dad used all throughout my middle and high school years. it's the best there is, trust me," she says, looking back and up at you as she finishes. 

"oh, i'll be the judge of that," you quip. 

once she starts chopping the onions and tomatoes, you have to force yourself to stop drooling over her random knife skills and excuse yourself to the bathroom even though you don't have to go. 

you splash a bit of water on your cheeks and give yourself a pep talk in the mirror to boost your confidence, then head back out into the kitchen. ellie had apparently finished her salsa and plated it in a small dipping bowl for the two of you, her lean forearms now flexing as she opened the bag of tortilla chips. 

"hey, perfect timing," she says, clapping her hands over the sink to rid them of any crumbs. "i just finished my legendary, michelin-star salsa. you ready?" 

"you're really gassing this up, huh?" you smirk. "i bet this recipe is by a mom of three who had to share her whole life's story before even telling what ingredients you needed." 

"bro, just eat it already." 

you give in and scoop a hefty dip of her salsa onto your chip, raising it to your mouth while maintaining eye contact. 

your eyes widen as the salsa covers your tongue, the crunch of the chip pairing perfectly with the smooth sauce. "oh my god. el, this is so good." 

she stares at your mouth moving around your bite for a beat too long before her eyes flick back up to yours, processing what you said as her trademark smirk took over her face.

"el, huh?" she teases, but saves you from responding with her cocky answer. "of course it's good, i made it," she says while wiping imaginary dust off her shoulders. 

the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, you leaning on the kitchen counter over the bowl of salsa and her looking down at you eating the snack. her eyes linger on your lips for a bit before her hand lifts to your mouth to brush her thumb at the corner of your mouth. she casually wipes her hand on a rag before realizing what she did and freezing while staring at you like a deer in headlights. 

in your shock, you stop chewing and murmur through the fresh tension, "what was that for?" 

"oh, you had some salsa on your lip," she explains, lifting her pinky finger to point to your lip so as to prove herself, "right here." 

her hand slowly falls back to her side as you stand straight and grab her arm to pull her in to a bruising kiss, slow and full of want.  

ellie doesn't need to be told twice—she quickly has your thighs wrapped around her hips after tapping them to signal you to jump. she walks the two of you to the island so she can stand between your open legs. her kisses hungrily move down to your neck, her mouth making quick work of undoing what little composure you had left as a soft breath escapes you. 

in your lustful daze, you don't notice ellie's phone ringing for a while—not until she grunts in annoyance. opening your eyes to look over her shoulder, you see her phone lit up next to the fridge with a call from a someone named "claire!!" 

"it's from someone named claire?" you inform her with poorly masked jealousy and are met by her exasperated groan. "god, that's my roommate," she says. "just ignore it." 

you do just that, closing your eyes again as you pull ellie back up to your lips to kiss her again, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips before entering. 

the phone rings again and ellie pulls away with a huff to answer it. "yes?" she demands. although you couldn't make out what this claire was saying, you did notice ellie's eye roll and her hands patting at her pockets to retrieve her car keys. "yes, i'm leaving now." 

"ugh, my roommate locked herself out of the apartment. again." she walks back to the couch to pack up her stuff to leave, and you shyly slide off of the counter and simply watch her. 

"well, what a productive study session, am i right?" she awkwardly jokes, twisting the ball of her foot into the ground. 

"oh, shut up, ellie. i'll see you in class on thursday?" you say. 

"yeah," she confirms with a chuckle, "thursday." 

she lets herself out, but not before sharing a soft stare with you, her gaze stuck on yours like honey. then, she stepped outside and the door shut with a click. 💫

reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!

yayyyy finally done and i already know what i’m writing next (ellabs girlies get ready)

ladies ladies calm down i gotta establish the relationship before anything happens but perhaps a part 3??? lets see how this does

tags of those who were waiting for this: @saturnsdrafts @hazywazysmind @nramv @elliesactualgirlfriend

anyone who wants to be tagged in the future, just comment!!

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[snaileer]

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut in immediately, the video showing him seated at their table holding a cup of coffee. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou? Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

Ryan flicked his file open as Shane took a sip from his coffee.

The screen lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?”Shane cut in, yellow words typing themself across the screen.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the French town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“Later evidence statements regarding Charles stated that he was: ‘an odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-His advertising: ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’ Jazz hands.-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room. There were no clocks of any kind.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

Despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝(𝐬)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader (Pre-Established Relationship)

Summary: Every so often, Miguel would simply disappear without a trace, getting lost in his own head. This time around you were determined to not let him be alone. Not on a day like today. (Hurt/Comfort)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of loss. A lil angsty but soft (you know me :3)

“Hey, where’s Miguel?” you ask Jess as you walk into the dining hall. “I haven’t seen him all day, I need to go over mission reports with him but he wasn’t even in the monitoring room.”

Jess only shrugs, grabbing a bottle of water.

“Haven’t seen him either, he does that sometimes you know. Just disappears for a little while, he’s never told me why,” she replies. “It’d do you good to leave him alone, he’s been on edge all week.”

You cringe slightly as you think back to Monday when he hurled a mission folder at the wall after a new recruit had messed up, he refused to talk to anyone but Lyla that day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say with a small smile, but Jess only looks at you knowingly.

“No you won’t,” she eyes you up and down.

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you reply, walking off. “See you later, Jess!”

~

As you walk through the halls, you begin to wonder what could be up with the leader of the Spider Society. While the two of you weren’t the closest, he trusted you more than he did most people here. Granted a lot of them were new, hell, the society itself had only been created a few months ago so it made sense.

But still.

Pulling out your phone, you glance at the date; ‘June 11th’. All of a sudden your face falls as you recognize the significance of today.

When Miguel had first talked to you about the Spiderverse, and his mission to protect each and every multiverse and its canon events he had shown you the consequences of not ensuring everything progressed as it needed.

He had gotten so mad at you that day because you refused to follow his cause simply because he had told you to. It just didn’t make sense to you how a single event, a single choice could cause the elimination of an entire universe.

That’s when he showed you himself the consequences of those minute choices. You watched in horror as Lyla projected the downfall of the universe he had travelled to. How all those people simply…disappeared without a trace.

At the corner of the screen, a single date; 06/11/2020.

You had to find him.

~

Finding him was much easier said than done. Clearly, he wasn’t anywhere at HQ so you start looking around his universe, places he mentioned in passing, places you thought he might like. For a few hours you search to no avail, and before long the sun was beginning to set.

The tiredness was starting to settle into your bones. Maybe this was the universe telling you to back off, for your own good.

That was until out of the corner of your eye you see a single blue speck on the edge of the tallest building in Nueva York. Call it intuition, or maybe your spidey sense but the moment you spot it you knew it was him.

Immediately you begin making your way over, slinging across the city, building to building. You never got sick of this feeling; you couldn’t place a finger on what it was. Freedom? Maybe. All you knew was that as the wind whipped by, cities and skylines in your view, that was when you were at your happiest.

But before long you begin to falter.

What would you even say to him? What could you say? ‘Oh hey, sorry about your old universe. Wanna talk about it?’ Miguel wasn’t one to just talk, especially about something as vulnerable as how he was feeling.

But…he also didn’t deserve to be alone either.

Reaching the top of the building, you huff slightly as you try to catch your breath (superhuman powers be damned, you try scaling a building).

There at the top, you see his broad shoulders hunched over, curled in on himself as his legs dangle off the side of the ledge. Then his back straightens as he senses you, whirling around with an irritated expression on his face.

“What are you doing here,” he says sharply, eyes narrowed in your direction. You have to fight the urge to shrink down in your spot under his gaze. “The whole point of someone disappearing without a word is usually because they want to be alone.”

“Or they just don’t know how to ask for help, so instead they wallow in their pain and force themselves to be alone because they think they can’t depend on anyone else but themselves,” you counter.

He only scoffs, turning away from you.

“I didn’t ask for a psychoanalysis, go be a therapist to someone who actually wants one,” he says, but you both knew the truth; he would rather die than depend on anyone but himself.

“I’m just saying,” you mutter, sitting down by his side much to his dismay. “I mean, I would know.” And it was true, you did. Always a listener to everyone else’s problems, the last thing you wanted to be was a burden. So before you could be, you slinked away to hide in the comfort of yourself.

He doesn’t say anything to that, opting to continue looking down at the city below. Softly, you sigh.

“I…I think I know why you’re here,” you say hesitantly, and immediately he visibly tenses before glaring at you.

“You don’t know anything,” he says lowly, daring you to say anything more, and despite everything in you screaming to turn away, to stop now, you continued.

“We’ve all gone through loss here, Miguel…” you whisper. “I understand.”

“You have no idea what loss is,” he says sharply, talons digging into the edge of the roof. “To watch as an entire world, an entire universe fall apart in the palm of your hand.” His voice cracks almost imperceptibly at that, but you notice. You always do.

“You have no idea what it’s like to see the ones you love most disintegrate because of your own actions, so you don’t get to say anything,” he seethes, his blood-red eyes darkened.

“You know damn fucking well we’ve all lost people Miguel, some more than others but the pain of loss accompanies all of us,” you say, feeling the anger rise in you as he blatantly brushes off everything you and the rest of the Spider Society of gone through. What everyone had to go to, to follow the canon he valued so greatly. But you don’t let it reach the edge, instead, you take a deep breath.

“Look, what I’ve been trying to say is that it's difficult to carry the weight of the world, let alone the weight of millions upon millions of multiverses. All I’m saying is that you don’t always have to do it alone,” you finish softly.

Hesitantly, you reach out for his hand with your own, but pull it back at the last second when he glances down at it.

Letting out a sigh, you continue.

“You don’t always have to keep it to yourself y’know,” you urge gently. “I may not have the power to bring them back, or the solutions to your problems, but I am always here to listen. As to whether you are willing to share, well, that’s up to you.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, instead only watching the sun as it sets on the horizon. Then, he seems to contemplate something for a split second before he leans his head on yours.

“I know,” he says quietly, and you feel your heart skip a beat, growing steadily in rhythm as something unfamiliar blooms in you.

“…thank you,” he says, pausing as though he was going to say something more but decides against it. Instead, he only looks into your eyes for a moment as you look into his.

What you find are the unsaid words that someday, he might be able to say.

“Let’s get back to base.”

~

A/N: Hi! Back again, sorry this is so different from my past two Miguel works, but I came up with this idea at work (oops) and had to get it down on paper. Hope you enjoyed~ (And don't worry, more fluff is coming soon :3)

[togamest]

spring's temptation

Three times Kisaki Tetta attempts to confess to you, and one time it works…a little too well. -> 5,211 words. gn!reader (reader wears heels to a party), fluff, mutual pining, slow burn, texting, college universe/au, hankisa-centric, mentions of throuples/polyamory. pet names ("pretty girl", "doll") -> a/n: love a good slow burn moment. this is VERY very selfship coded...this may or may not have been modeled off of a text convo my partner and i have had in the past...whose to say! no smut/nsfw this go around, just good old fluffy slow burn. my entry into the enchanted forest network's spring feelings collab!

INSTANCE #1: March 21st, 2005

Your eyes crack open to the sound of a lone mourning dove, cooing as it takes its place on a telephone wire, nestling next to its companion in the bright morning sun. It’s…warm. Warmer than it’s been the past few days. There’s a peek of pink and green from behind your curtains, asking to be let inside.

Your bed is soft, but with a groan, you arise, slamming your alarm off by smacking your phone screen and rubbing at your eyes. The smell of breakfast creeps into your nostrils as you get dressed, and a ping from your phone catches your attention as you check the screen.

Shuji <3

Ready yet, doll? We’re here.

Sure enough, two sets of bike tires faintly squeak against the asphalt, Shuji’s high-pitched giggle echoing through your now-open window that you release the lock on, pushing the curtains aside. Your two boys are down at the edge of the fence, Shuji pocketing his phone and looking up at you with a massive smile. His companion doesn’t make eye contact with you, fiddling with his shirt instead, his glasses slowly sliding down his nose.

Kisaki.

You wave at them both, a grin to match Shuji spreading across your face. “Be down in a minute!” you call to him, and he nods, elbowing Kisaki to look up at you. He complies, begrudgingly, a blush flushing his cheeks as he looks up at you. He waves at you, and you cheekily blow a kiss at him, to which he flushes an even deeper scarlet and looks away. Shuji’s laugh echoes in your ears as you shut your window, making your way downstairs.

Your mother greets you quickly, making sure you have everything you need, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as you leave the house, bounding down the stairs and grabbing your own pink and blue bike to join the boys.

“There’s my pretty girl,” you hear Shuji say, walking up to you and leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, pushing your hair behind your ear. You giggle at it, your face a little warm as you take a sniff of the surrounding air. It’s spring, all right; there’s the scent of freshly cut grass, the sharpness of Shuji’s cigarettes, and the clean linen scent of Kisaki’s laundry detergent hanging in the air around you.

Speaking of, the boy in question seemed to be hanging back today. You peer around Hanma to take a look at Kisaki, who almost looks like he’s pouting. “What’s up, Tetta? Need some attention?” you coo at him, and he snorts, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, don’t treat me like a baby,” he says in a low voice, but you can’t help walking the two steps over to him and giving him a hug. His arms don’t wrap around your own, but you can feel his heart absolutely racing against you.

Hmm. Weird.

Hopping on your bikes, you make your way to the bakery around the corner for some fluffy confections. Your mother has always waggled her finger at you for doing so, complaining that you’re going to rot your teeth before you’re twenty-five, but you simply laugh and take a massive bite out of whatever pastry your eyes were set on that day.

Today, it’s blueberry scones.

They’re fresh, the daily special, the scent of warm bread and blueberry drifting through the air as you three pull up to the storefront, hooking your bikes up before wandering in. Hanma takes his place right behind you, a large hand splayed across the small of your back, with Kisaki next to you. Your arms brush every so often, and you can almost feel a flinch.

Mega-weird.

The woman behind the counter gives you a soft smile when she hands you your bag of treats, and you return it before exiting with the two boys following you closely. The breeze that hits you as soon as you walk out is ethereal, like that first sight of a daffodil peeking out from the snow, or seeing the suggestion of cherry blossom bulbs beginning their push through the trees’ branches.

“Wish it could be like this forever,” you whisper, and Hanma moves in front of you, his face so close to your own with a massive grin on his lips, giving you a wink before moving to his bike. You turn to look at Kisaki, who has obediently stayed back behind you and Hanma during the exit, but seems to not know what to do now, looking down at his feet.

“Right, Tetta?”

You saying his first name causes his head to jerk up, before he scrunches his nose. “I guess,” he says slowly, his words heavy. You roll your eyes, grabbing his shoulder with one of your hands, the other occupied with the bag as you flash him a smile, to attempt to get him to give one back to you. It almost works; you can see the hint of one tugging at his face.

His mouth opens.

“Yeah. I wish it could, but maybe it’s a good thing that it won’t.”

Huh?

He says nothing more, moving to his bike to unhook it, Hanma already ready to go. “Come on, doll, you’re gonna make us late!” he shouts, and you huff, placing the bag on your bike’s carrier in front before mounting it yourself. You three make it to campus with plenty of time, Hanma’s claim of being late a far cry from the truth as always; he never failed to be the most dramatic of you three.

What Kisaki said somehow still weighs on you, and not even the still-warm blueberry scone in your hands can dispel the peculiar sense that weighs in your chest.

Shuji <3 [5:32 PM]

Hey doll you seen Kisaki anywhere

You [5:34 PM]

nah why

Shuji <3 [5:40 PM]

Haven’t seen him in a few days. Kinda weird, right? Like I’m not trippin

You [5:42 PM]

no that’s not like him to ignore u. are u sure he’s not just at summer camp?

Shuji <3 [5:45 PM]

No, I checked his house because I’m a psycho :p and the cars are still there

You [6:17 PM]

hmm well maybe just leave him alone maybe smth went wrong at home

Shuji <3 [6:18 PM]

I guess……………

Shuji <3 [9:46 PM]

You ever notice how he looks at you?

You [9:47 PM]

huh??? the fuck does that mean

Shuji <3 [9:48 PM]

Nothin. Just feel like something aint right

You [10:20 PM]

shuji ur literally overthinking rn im sure he’s fine

Shuji <3 [10:31 PM]

Hmm. Alright. See you tomorrow doll <3

You [10:31 PM]

<3

INSTANCE #2: April 10th, 2010

Five years, and now you’re head of the garden club at school as a freshman in college. Of course, Hanma and Kisaki both made it into the same university, and you’ve all been enjoying freshman year with everything you have. You’ve both grown closer over the years, naturally; but that feeling you had with Kisaki all those years ago has since festered. You’ve pushed it away, consistently, but it never fails to linger. Hanma doesn’t notice, or is ignoring it, and frankly, you’re relieved about that. The last thing you want is him jumping down your throat about it.

You wander through the rows of colors, letting your hand drift across all of the soft petals as you approach the small outhouse, grabbing one of the straw hats left for the volunteers. You wrap an apron around you as well, tugging gloves on before you hear a cough behind you.

You almost jump six feet in the air as you whip around and come to face—

“My God, Tetta,” you say, exasperated, your hand on your chest in mock surprise, “don’t scare me like that! You could’ve just asked to come with me today, you know.”

There’s a hint of blush on Kisaki’s cheeks as he pulls the books in his arms closer to him with a tch and a roll of his eyes. “I guess, but it’s a public garden,” he points out, the know-it-all in him becoming even more loud, “anyone can come in and out. You should expect visitors.”

He’s right, he’s always right.

You wave him off anyway, handing him some gloves and a trowel. “Well, since you’re here, I’ll put you to work. I’ve got some flowers to plant where the pansies died last year, and I’ve dug them up already, so I’ll need your keen eye to know if I’m planting them correctly.” The sentiment in your voice is clearly not lost on him, as he all but throws his books into the outhouse next to your bags and tugs on the gloves, following you like a puppy as you move through the rows, landing on an empty bed with fresh soil.

It’s quiet, the activity; he pulls the flowers out of the store-bought plastic containers, and you tuck them into their new place, patting them once as you go to make sure they’re solidly planted into the soil. The bed becomes a flush of color as you both make quick work of it, with reds and yellows and purples exploding across the empty space.

There’s a problem plant that Kisaki ends up dealing with, whose roots have made it almost impossible to pull out. He’s been struggling for a few moments now, continuously trying to get it out and then reverting to another sprout and returning to the stuck plant after. Seeing his frustration caked with dirt on his face makes your chest flutter just a little bit as you reach over—

Your hands make contact, and even through the gloves, you feel a spark.

Your hand moves back unconsciously, almost yanking it to your chest as you play it off with a laugh, but Kisaki’s eyes go wide as he looks at you. There’s a beat of nothing, before he nervously laughs with you. “Must have some static electricity,” you say, attempting to smoothen out the awkwardness as you reach for the plant again, “but let me.”

He hands it to you, and you slip it out as easily as if it were never stuck at all, his jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching in anger. “Well,” he begins, and he stutters as you look at him with an eyebrow raised, patting the problem child into the dirt, “I-uh-I just loosened it for you. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you repeat back to him, but there’s no malice in your voice. The blush on his cheeks is even more red as he looks away from you, grabbing the next flower to remove from the pot, refusing to say more.

The sun is still high in the sky when you finish the bed, and it looks gorgeous as you sit in front of it, sharing water with Kisaki. His hands freed from the gloves, he reaches out to brush against the petal of a snapdragon, the cherry red contrasting nicely with his emerging tanned skin.

“Antirrhinum.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Bless you?”

He laughs, then, a genuine laugh that you hadn’t heard in a while. His mood around you hadn’t gotten worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either, since that day at the bakery. You still don’t know why he’d been acting so weirdly, why he said that he wished things would change; it had been five years, you’d think you’d know by now. Why did he think that? Were you and Hanma not enough for him after so long? Did something happen at home? Did—

“It’s the genus that snapdragons are from. It’s ‘cause they look like dragons when you squeeze them. They’re actually not compatible with themselves, a lot of the time. They can’t self-pollinate.”

You nod, humming. “Sure know a lot about plants, huh?”

Kisaki’s face couldn’t be redder or he’d look like a tomato. “Yeah. One of the weird things I like to study, I guess.”

You’re not sure what prompts you to move, but you do, so your hand is covering his own. Skin touching skin, the spark isn’t there, but there is an odd sense of warmth. The peculiar sense comes back again, one that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not weird or wrong, just…odd. Nevertheless, you don’t move away, and he doesn’t either. Your eyes meet, and it’s like time is suddenly frozen, waiting for a choice to be made. You can’t help but flicker down to his lips and back up, and you can tell he’s noticed as his white teeth appear to bite down on his bottom lip gently.

You cough, moving away, going to remove your hand. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, gripping onto your hand so you can’t remove it. “Don’t be. We’re friends, right?”

The smile he gives you doesn’t reach his eyes.

There’s the peculiar feeling again, tightening your chest.

Shuji <3 [9:26 PM]

Alright, doll, enough fuckin around.

You [9:26 PM]

huh????

Shuji <3 [9:27 PM]

You invited Kisaki to do the stupid garden shit with you and not me? :(

You [9:27 PM]

oh my god u idiot he literally just showed up of course i had to put him to work

Shuji <3 [10:08 PM]

Yanno if it were me I’d think you’re fuckin with him on the side

You [10:09 PM]

WE ARE FRIENDS OMG

Shuji <3 [10:10 PM]

You sure about that?

You [10:11 PM]

YES???? why should i not think that???

Shuji <3 [10:20 PM]

Come on, you gotta notice. He’s not the best at being subtle

You [10:21 PM]

i rly don’t know what ur talkin about here but if he rly thought that i’d hope he would have a convo w me about it instead of brooding like an idiot as u seem to say

Shuji <3 [10:42 PM]

HAHA yeah. Hopefully he grows some balls and does something about it.

You [10:43 PM]

ABOUT WHAT????

Shuji <3 [10:45 PM]

Nothin. Gnight doll <3

You [10:46 PM]

ugh fine gnnnn ilysm

Shuji <3 [ 10:50 PM]

Love you too

INSTANCE #3: MAY 15th, 2013

“Kisaki!” you slur, your drink sloshing in its container as you stumble your way over to him. Hanma is behind you, one of his large hands keeping you steady as he meanders over with you, a matching grin on his own face as you both adventure over to your third, who is currently sitting at the bar nursing his only beer of the evening, scowling.

“What’s got ya so bummed out, huh?” Hanma asks, resting one hand on the bar and the other on your shoulder as you slide in front of him, between the two men, your eyes sparkling as you look up at Kisaki. His glasses are new, clear frames that make him look more mature. He’s forgone the buzzcut he used to have, instead opting for an undercut. No more dyed hair, either, at least not at the level he used to have. The highlights are more exact, a barber having done them rather than a fourteen-year-old rebellious boy.

He looks good. Too good.

Hanma has also changed quite a lot, although not to you. To you, he’s still the possessive boyfriend he’s always been, goofy and laughing and never taking anything seriously. He’s also opted for shorter styled hair, being much less ridiculous than his “skunk haircut” that you forever teased him about. However, he has a look that he gives Kisaki, one that you either hadn’t picked up on before or that you simply hadn’t noticed…

It looks like yearning.

Kisaki takes a sip from his beer before looking at Hanma. “You know this stuff isn’t really my style,” he drawls, a finger circling the rim of his glass, “I’d much rather be at home, honestly. Reading a book sounds like a much better use of my time.”

You clap your hand on him, ignoring the flash of shock in Kisaki’s eyes. “Come on, Tetta,” you whine, “life isn’t just about books. It’s all out here! Waiting for you to explore!” You brandish your arms around you, gesturing at the bar’s dance floor, crammed with sweaty bodies and solo cups and tongues inside of wet mouths, filthy noises barely being dulled by the horrifically loud bass echoing around the room.

Luckily, where you three are, it’s relatively quieter. Sofas line some of the walls. There’s a girl grinding on her choice for the night, her cherry red lips leaving faint marks on his cheeks as they kiss sloppily. There’s a hint of drool on his chin as his hands move to grab onto her hips, moving her gently against him, grinding her down onto whatever is hiding in his pants.

You tear your eyes away, only to see both Hanma and Kisaki staring at you. “What?” you exclaim, shrugging your shoulders, but the alcohol has a grip on you now. You need someone to touch you, and whether it’s Kisaki or Hanma, it seems to not matter to your horny brain. Your skin feels like it’s on fire with every moment that passes.

Your logical brain, however, goes for Hanma, due to the fact that he’s your partner, your lips brushing against his neck. “Kinda wanna go home,” you whisper against his sweaty skin, and you feel his throat rumble as he laughs, pulling you close to him. “Sorry, doll, this is my party,” he says, “but lucky for you, I have a good friend willing to take you home, since he wants to go so badly.”

You look over at Kisaki, who looks like he’s staring daggers at Hanma. There’s a beat of silence between them, tension hanging in the air so thick that you could cut it with a knife, when Kisaki sighs, finishing his beer and extending his hand. “M’lady,” he says, a smile on his face, and you follow him happily, planting a kiss on Hanma’s lips before you go. “I’ll let you know when I’m home,” you shout back, and he nods, lifting the glass at you and blowing you an air kiss.

The walk home is slow as you stumble, eventually ripping off your heels and choosing to walk in your bare feet. Kisaki doesn’t notice, moving a few paces ahead of you. Once he realizes you’re no longer right next to him, he looks back at you, and then at your feet, and—

“Jesus, why are you walking barefoot? Come here.”

You don’t get a chance to say anything before he’s picking you up, slogging you onto his back in a forced piggyback ride. Your heels thud lightly against his chest with every step he takes. “D’you work out or somethin’?” you slur, your cheek resting against his shoulder, your breath on his neck. He nods, effortlessly huffing as he adjusts you without you even doing anything, a squeak falling from your lips. “Tetta!” you exclaim, giggling, and you can feel his smile without even seeing it.

“I work out so I can make sure someone as pretty as you gets home safe without a scratch.”

Pretty. “Pretty,” you say slowly, weighing it on your tongue, “I s’pose I am. Thas’ a weird thing to say about your friend, you know.”

You’d always joked with Kisaki that you were just friends. Sure, he got touchy when he was drunk, and he did do things for you that felt boyfriend-level, but it was nothing serious. Hanma was always there, anyway, clearly the boyfriend in charge with his loud voice and raucous laugh taking up the space that Kisaki himself left for him. They’d been good to you, both of them; they’d always been good to you.

Your apartment appeared much faster than you wanted it to, having felt so content being carried by Kisaki that when he set you down in your entryway, you almost collapsed to the ground. You giggle at the mistake, picking yourself back up and dusting yourself off, before looking up at him.

You’d have thought he’d been looking at the stars with the way he looked at you in such fascination. You ignore it. You have to ignore it, because you can feel that peculiar feeling rearing its head again. It had been years since you’d felt it, so why now? What about right now, other than the alcohol flooding your veins, made you feel like this?

“Thanks for, uh, for gettin’ me home,” you say, breaking the silence and picking up your heels and going to move further into your apartment, but a hand lands on your arm. There’s a plea in Kisaki’s eyes when you meet them, but it’s gone before you fully realize it.

“You’re welcome,” he chooses to say instead, “make sure you drink some water.”

He disappears before you can respond, the door clicking shut behind him.

When the refreshing water hits you, after you meander into the kitchen and fill a glass, the realization does too.

The peculiar feeling, the feeling you’ve felt every time you come into contact with Kisaki. The feeling you had all those years ago when he’d mentioned how he wanted things to change. The spark between you two that felt so much more than just static electricity jumping from one’s skin to the other. The fact that he took time out of his day to come help you at the flower gardens (which you never questioned, either, oddly enough).

It all pointed to one thing, one staggeringly shocking revelation that you almost can’t fathom as you slide onto the linoleum floor.

You were in love with Kisaki.

Kisaki was in love with you.

And you, despite your best efforts, were in love with Kisaki and Hanma.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You [1:02 AM]

u fuckign bas tard u were rIGHT the wh OLE time

Shuji <3 [1:04 AM]

Hmm? Really? What was I right about?

You [1:05 AM]

TETTA

You [1:05 AM]

HES IN LOVE W ME ISNT HE

Shuji <3 [1:06 AM]

Oh, yeah. He’s so fuckin bad at hiding it it’s kinda funny

You [1:06 AM]

WHY DID U NOT

You [1:06 AM]

TELL ME

You [1:06 AM]

WHY DID U NOT SAY ANYTHIGGGGGNNG

Shuji <3 [1:10 AM]

I have, so many goddamn times. You just didn’t wanna see it <3

You [1:12 AM]

FUCK

You [1:12 AM]

what do i do shuji. what the fuck do i do

Shuji <3 [1:13 AM]

Well, you still love me, right?

You [1:13 AM]

yes god i would never not love u im so fr

You [1:13 AM]

but wtf am i supposed to do about being into him too like how does that work

Shuji <3 [2:05 AM]

Well, there’s a lot I gotta tell ya.

You [2:06 AM]

like what????

Shuji <3 [2:17 AM]

You think you’re the only person out of the three of us that likes him?

You [2:17 AM]

like………

You [2:17 AM]

WAIT

You [2:18 AM]

LIKE LIKE?????

Shuji <3 [2:18 AM]

God, I love you but you make it sound so fuckin weird lmao

You [2:18 AM]

I DIDNT KN OW U WER ENT STRA GIHT

Shuji <3 [2:25 AM]

Surprise lmao

Shuji <3 [2:25 AM]

So I’m guessin u can see how this is gonna work right

You [2:26 AM]

that,,,kinda makes it a lot easier

Shuji <3 [2:26 AM]

Yeah duh. Worryin for nothin. I love you but goddamn lol

You [2:27 AM]

oh my god shut upim gonna go to bed and pretend this didnt happen

Shuji <3 [2:27 AM]

You can try doll. But we’re gonna talk about it eventually.

You [2:28 AM]

yeah yeah okay gn i did make it home safe btw

Shuji <3 [2:30 AM]

Yeah Kisaki told me. Knew he’d keep ya safe considering he’s in love with you

You [2:31 AM]

FUCK OFF GOODNIGHT

Shuji <3 [2:31 AM]

Goodnight doll <3

INSTANCE #4: MAY 31st, 2013

Having your boyfriend know that you’re in love with his best friend and also having the realization that he is also in love with your best friend is, frankly, a best case scenario for the ridiculously comical love triangle that you find yourself in now.

Neither of you have said anything to Kisaki, of course. It’s been a few weeks since the party, and you’ve both concocted a plan together; to drop hints and see how long it takes Kisaki to realize what’s going on. Given his innate ability to read people, you both bet that it’ll take him a week at best.

A week stretches into two, then three. Consistent touches are met with a smile but nothing more, helping out around his apartment gets a “thank you”, but he’s not giving either of you any room to move further or even bring up a discussion. It’s a bit ridiculous, actually, and while you know Hanma can last forever when it comes to a good slow burn (particularly if it involves Kisaki), you do not have the same patience.

It’s a wine night after you finish your junior year of university when it all comes out.

You three are piled up on the couch, and you unstick yourself to move into the kitchen, sighing as you pour another glass of wine. There’s a sound of shuffling, before you see Kisaki enter the kitchen with you, pouring his own glass. “It’s good, right?” you say, swirling your glass up to the light in mock analysis as he grins, the wine flushing his cheeks a sweet pink.

“Sure is,” he says, and the silence that fills the space after is…a little awkward.

“Say, I wanted to thank you for, you know, not making things weird.”

Your gaze moves from the glass to his face, and with the drunken flush on his cheeks it looks like he’s finally grasped onto a string of bravery.

“Weird about what?”

There’s a clink as his glass lands on the countertop. “Calling you pretty. Was just a slip of the tongue, I’m sorry. That wasn’t right.”

“Ever the example of honesty, I see,” you joke, sitting on the countertop with the glass. You can hear the TV in the living room slightly lowering its volume, and you know for a fact Shuji is listening in. Why wouldn’t he? The look you gave him after you left the room, the wink he’d tossed your way, he knows what’s going on.

Kisaki swallows so harshly that you’d think he was attempting to swallow an apple whole. He looks as if he’s debating on what to say, how to respond to that, because you know he’s not being truthful. He doesn’t know that you know, though.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long, because he takes a deep breath, and out it comes.

“I’m tired of pretending that I’m not into you. It’s a lie, it’s a massive lie that’s been poisoning me for years and I am so exhausted with pretending that I don’t feel something for you.”

You stare at him in mock shock, trying your best not to laugh.

He immediately backtracks, his hand brushing against the back of his neck. “Fuck,” he whispers, “fuck, I’m sorry, now I made it weird, I know you’re with Shuji and I shouldn’t have said anything, I know, I—”

“God, Tetta, shut the fuck up for once,” you finally say, snapping. The resistance that you’ve held the past couple weeks has suddenly crumbled, watching him stumble over his words and ignore the love he has for you based on…what? Your commitment to Shuji? You’re basically a throuple anyway, it’s like he’s been blind to it all. Blind to the love that you and Shuji have for him.

He looks at you with real shock, and you roll your eyes, tugging on his shirt to bring you closer to you, slotting between your legs. “Shut up,” you repeat against his lips, and you crush yours against his own.

He’s speechless, unmoving, like a statue as you kiss him, slowly, gently attempting to unravel his nerves that are bubbling underneath his skin. Slowly, he softens in your hands, meeting the motions you’re giving him. He cups your cheek and tilts your head and his tongue slides in, skating across your teeth. You let out a soft moan into his mouth, but he doesn’t stop. The restraint is off, disappeared, dissolved in the space between you two.

He’s shuddering against you, like he can’t believe he’s doing this, but like he’s so excited to finally kiss you and break through whatever mental block he’s put up. He’s panting against you, red-bitten lips pounding as he looks at you. There’s so many emotions in his eyes; betrayal, shame, lust, excitement, all colliding in a wild kaleidoscope.

“Sorry.”

His voice is raspy, and he goes to move away, but you lock your legs behind him so he can’t move. He stiffens, looking back at you with surprise as you lean back, your palms flat on the countertop as you roll your eyes. “Tetta,” you respond, in a sing-song voice, “don’t apologize. I liked it.”

“But Shuji—”

“Are you stupid?”

He slowly blinks in confusion. “M-Maybe?” he stutters, alarm in his voice, and you giggle.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

There’s a snort that breaks the air, and Kisaki’s head all but whips to the kitchen entrance as he looks at his newly-emerged friend, brushing his long fingers through his black and blonde locks, grinning.

“Silly Tetta,” he teases, walking up to you two, “silly, silly Tetta. How are you so goddamn analytical but you can’t tell when both of your friends are in love with you? Fucking idiot.”

If Kisaki could get any redder, he’d be morphing into a tomato as he looks down at your lap, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he finally confesses, and you cup his cheek in the same way he did to you moments ago, pushing his face to look at you. “You don’t have to do anything right now,” you say to him softly, “but I would like to snuggle some more with you both, if that’s okay.”

Shuji laughs, swinging an arm around Kisaki and dragging him back into the living room. “C’mon, love,” he calls behind him, and you follow, bringing the wine glasses and placing them on the coffee table as you collapse onto the couch with Shuji’s head on your shoulder, Kisaki’s on your lap. Your hand falls into Kisaki’s hair as the other removes his glasses, and he hums, shockingly fine with the way events are progressing given his embarrassment earlier.

“Just me and my boys,” you giggle, and Shuji can’t help but laugh, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Kisaki joins him, brave again, kissing your other cheek.

Your face hurts by the end of the night, having the two men you love more than anyone draped over you. It’s more than you could ever ask for.

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @thehoneypotserver @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2023-2024

[cera-writes]

First of all, you are an angel ♡

And second, me wee little heart has been nourished by my childhood crush of Nightcrawler thanks to his lovely interpretation in the X-Men 97' series.

If I may request a cute prompt of a selective mute fem! mutant reader attempting to make a sweet, first impression towards him ♡

A/N Thank you so much Anon! I try to be a great writer as far as Kurt is concerned! <3 Pairing: Kurt Wagner x F!mute reader (X-Men 97)

No Subtitles Needed

You were part of the X-Men, but you also had a small part time job at the local video store. The comforting hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint scent of popcorn filled the air, a familiar backdrop to your Friday night shift at "Rewind Reels." You weren't here to stock shelves or replace worn-out VHS tapes, not entirely. Your target was browsing the cult classic section, a figure almost swallowed whole by the towering shelves – Kurt Wagner, the Nightcrawler.

He wasn't dressed in his usual garb, just jeans and a black tee shirt. He was a regular customer, his midnight-blue fur surprisingly soft-looking under the harsh store lights. Despite his imposing stature, there was a childlike wonder in his eyes as he scanned the titles. Today, you were determined to spark a conversation beyond the usual "horror" or "comedy" aisle inquiries.

Behind the counter, a stack of old movie posters rested against the wall. You grabbed one, its faded paint depicting a whimsical scene from a classic silent film - a lovestruck couple with exaggerated expressions, their hands reaching out to one another. With a trembling hand, you scribbled a single sentence on the bottom: "Have you seen this gem?"

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, the poster held out like a nervous offering. Kurt's gaze followed your hand, then met yours. A smile, warm and genuine, spread across his face like the opening scene of a feel-good film.

"Wow, I haven't," he rumbled, his voice surprisingly soft. "This looks interesting! Thanks for the recommendation. And hey, haven't I seen you around the X-Mansion?"

You flushed, nodding, the heat rising to your cheeks. Words weren't your forte, but the silent film poster spoke volumes. He gestured to the counter, breaking the comfortable silence. "Mind if I tell you some obscure horror classics you might not know about? Maybe we could even watch them together sometime."

Hesitantly, you nodded, a silent invitation. As he launched into a detailed explanation of a forgotten B-movie monster, a comfortable rhythm settled between you. He spoke with such passion, his enthusiasm as infectious as a classic monster chasing a damsel in distress.

When he finally finished, his yellow eyes twinkled with amusement. "You know," he said gently, "sometimes the best connections are made through the magic of cinema, even if you can't quite find the words."

You met his gaze, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, this video store wasn't just a place for mindless entertainment, but the beginning of a connection that unfolded as captivatingly as any silver screen romance.

[beom-pyu]

touch tank ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi yeonjun

choi yeonjun x fem!reader , tags: idol x producer au , semi-secret relationship , fluff , nsfw , reader is stressed and bf yeonjunie comes to save the day :3 , soft soft soft

warnings: smut ( minors dni i beg) , service top yeonjun ?? , cunninglus (fem!receiving) , praise , slight slight hair pulling , reader calls yj baby a lot (and he loves it) , cumming untouched , sickeningly sweet fluff at the end

"he's so pretty when he goes down on me—gold-skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry" ♫

wc: 1.7k+

“you know—when your phone rings with the name ‘yeonjun’ on the screen, it means i want to talk to you.”

yeonjun’s voice is immediately sulky and whiny as he enters your studio. you look up from your computer screen to see a takeout bag in his hands and the cutest pout on his lips.

you let out a small, pitiful sigh before removing your headphones and saving your project, reaching up to rub the exhaustion out of your eyes. “‘m sorry, baby. my phone was on silent—i need to finish this song by tomorrow.”

yeonjun sets the steamy plastic bag down on your desk, right by your computer, before he drops to his knees, nudging himself between your legs to rest his cheek on your thigh. you’ve reminded him multiple times that he can simply pull up a chair and sit next to you, but he swore that he felt more comfortable like this—and who are you to deny him when he looks up at you with the biggest, glittering eyes ever?

there is nothing you love more than the fact that yeonjun saves this side of himself only for you. the side where his walls completely come down and he turns into putty in your hands. he knows he’s safe with you, always.

your hand subconsciously finds its way into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. the weight of his body against your leg grounds you and you smile down at him with adoration in your eyes, his own bunching up into small crescent moons as he returns it. the only light in the room came from the pink warm-lighted lamp on your side table and the screen of your monitor.

“i miss you,” yeonjun utters with his cheek squished against your bare leg, that adorable pout still on his beautiful face. you laugh quietly as you stroke his hair, cocking your head to the side.

“but i’m right here?” you bring your fingers down to caress his cheek and yeonjun whines softly at your response. you can’t help but giggle at his reaction.

“i haven’t seen you all week,” he replies sadly, blinking up at you, his hand coming up to play with a loose string on your shorts.

your heart clenches at his words.

“i know, i know. i just have so many songs to write and all of these deadlines are so close together and—” you stop yourself mid-sentence to sigh, already feeling the stress creep back into your body. you’ve slept on your studio couch too many times this past month, skipped too many meals, and missed too many calls.

being a great producer comes at a price, and that price was starting to take a toll on your relationship. you feel incredibly guilty for not making enough time to see your boyfriend in between his already busy schedule; the most you’ve spoken to him this week had been a quick phone call before his concert to let him know you were cheering him on.

yeonjun can see you getting lost in your head, pawing gently at your shin to bring you back to him. your eyebrows are furrowed as you find his gaze, his eyes filled with concern and worry—it all just makes you feel even worse. he has enough on his plate, and now here you are, adding another burden to his life.

he lifts his head from your leg to fully look at you, his hands resting atop your thighs. “when was the last time you took a break, my love?”

you blink at him, your eyes drifting to your monitor to see the time. 10:24 p.m.

“i went home to take a shower and nap at 8.”

“today?”

you nibble on your lip nervously. “yesterday.”

yeonjun’s eyes widen and you prepare yourself for your weekly lecture—but instead, he huffs in disappointment, the pout returning to his lips.

“i’m sure you already know what i’m going to say,” yeonjun starts, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. “so let me just help you out instead. please?”

you look at him quizzically, unsure of what he means until his hands creep up to your shorts. this isn’t the first time yeonjun has offered to eat you out while you work, and you can never find it in your heart to tell him no. not when his tongue swipes over his pink lips, scooting closer so his face is right above your core, looking up at you so desperately as he waits for your approval.

you nod in confirmation before your hand tangles into his hair again, watching as he smiles up at you from in between your legs, looking so perfect and wonderful and lovely. he kisses the inside of your knee, nipping and biting his way up your thighs. you hiss slightly at a particularly hard bite, pulling his head up by his hair to meet his eyes.

“don’t leave any marks, okay?” yeonjun nods quickly in obedience before he continues his ministrations, only just barely grazing your soft skin with his teeth.

“i love you,” he mumbles as he squeezes your thighs, obsessed with how they squish and bounce under his hands. you let out a small breath, tilting your head back against your desk chair.

“i love you, baby. now, get me out of these shorts please.” you can already feel your heat pulsing in impatience as yeonjun takes his sweet time leaving a few more kisses on your skin. sometimes you believe this was more for yeonjun’s pleasure than yours with the way he takes his time worshiping every part of you, breathing growing heavy before he can even taste you. it’s absolutely adorable.

yeonjun doesn’t tease you for too long though, looping his fingers into the waistband of your shorts before he slowly pulls them down your legs, tossing them aside. he pulls your chair closer until you can feel his steady breath against your glistening folds. he drags his middle finger up your slit, collecting your juices before he looks up at you with the biggest doe eyes, slowly bringing his finger to his lips with a quiet moan. the sight alone makes your stomach flip, observing him through hooded eyes.

“hurry, please, jun.”

yeonjun wastes no more time before he grabs your hips, tilting your lower half upwards so he can lick a stripe up your pussy, your hips bucking at the sensation. his thumbs rub comforting circles into your skin as he leaves a few butterfly kisses over your folds before attaching his lips to your clit, jolts of pleasure running through your body at the sudden action.

pulses shoot up your spine as he sucks on your clit harshly, pulling off to kitten lick your swollen bud before circling it with his tongue. your jaw falls slack as soft moans leave your lips, your hand lazily carding through his now messy hair.

“so good for me, jun, fuck,” you manage to breathe and you can feel yeonjun smile against your core at the words. you slowly move your hips against his tongue, your leaking entrance leaving his chin and nose all wet. his cheeks are flushed pink as he pants against your pussy, obscene slurping noises filling the soundproofed room of your studio.

your hands grip tightly onto the strands of his hair as his tongue fucks you, his lower half rutting up into nothing as his erection presses up against his jeans just right. his finger—oh god, his fingers—prod at your entrance before he easily slips them in, your pussy gushing as he gently curls them upwards. your hips speed up, babbling out praise towards yeonjun as you full-on ride his face into oblivion. your mind is cloudy once he sucks on your clit again, pumping his fingers in and out.

you tense around him as it all gets to be too much, squeezing your eyes shut at the intense waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“‘m cumming, baby, fuck, fuck.” your voice is pitched up as you near your high, yeonjun moaning against your pussy like it were his last meal.

the vibrations mixed with his tongue pressed flatly against your clit send your over the edge, your back arching up off of the chair as you cry out. his strong arms hold you up as you rub your release all over his face, your hips moving frantically to milk out your bliss for as long as possible.

you eventually come back to your senses, your entire body spent as you slump against the chair, chest rising and falling heavily as you try to catch your breath. there’s a faint ringing in your ears and you feel like you’re dreaming. you blink your eyes open to see yeonjun staring at your spent expression like you’ve hung the stars and the moon and you conclude that you are indeed dreaming.

the collar of his shirt is damp as his chin drips with your cum, his lips puffy and swollen. his hair is a rat’s nest and you giggle slightly at the damage you’ve caused, a small smile creeping onto yeonjun’s face from yours alone.

“my baby, you did so well for me,” you praise him, hands reaching down to cup his cheeks as you press a few small kisses onto his wet lips. “made me feel so good.”

yeonjun chases your lips as you pull away and your heart bursts with fondness. he is so perfect—you don’t know how you ended up so lucky. your eyes seem to drift down to his lap, your smile growing wider as you see the soaked patch that bled through the front of his jeans.

“you came just from eating me out?” you ask incredulously, yeonjun whining a bit at your teasing tone, leaning down to nuzzle his face against your thigh. naturally, your hand finds its way back to his messy hair.

“you taste so good. couldn’t help it,” he mutters almost bashfully, blinking up at you with his long eyelashes. so perfect. “do you feel better now? did i help?”

“i feel so much better, baby,” you stroke his hair and he sighs contently as his eyes flutter shut, basking in your warmth and touch for a moment before his eyes open again. he pats around for your shorts, smiling triumphantly once he finds them.

“so you don’t get cold.”

you giggle under your breath at the small action, thanking him quietly as pulls your shorts up your legs, leaving small tiny kisses behind.

from now on, you are definitely going to make sure you spend more time with your boyfriend. music can wait.

reblogs are highly cherished!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[cybergrinding]

Routine Maintenance

You gently laid down on the table and unbuttoned the top of your uniform. It was time for your mistress to perform your routine maintenance, your heads-up display notifying you of recognized issues. It was all part of the job, and perhaps for any other doll engineer, would be as bland and clinical as working on any other machine. Your engineer, however, your mistress, was different. She reveled in getting to play with your wires and parts more than anyone else that's ever worked on you. You squirmed on the table just thinking about what she had in store for you today.

You heard her speak from across the room, she was still getting her tools ready. "Alright Eris, any problems you're currently having? Any parts need replaced?" She spoke casually to you, using the nickname she made for you rather than your proper designation, E-415. She may have been reprimanded had any of her higher-ups witnessed her casual conversation with you, let alone what her maintenance entailed.

"Sensors have recognized a bulging capacitor in section A, number 3 specifically. No other issues of note currently."

"Mm, I'll probably have to replace the whole section. You'll also want to keep notice of any other ones too, if one has reached its end of life, the others probably aren't far off. No issues with connecting to your weapons?" She walked over to the table, holding a screwdriver and a toolbox of common replacement parts. She was already wearing her anti-static wristband. Though your external armor was plenty capable of warding off damage to any of your interior circuitry, you would still be pushed to the limit so regularly that bits and pieces needed replaced frequently, necessitating every frontline combat doll have dedicated maintenance staff.

"None, all weapons were fully operational when last connected, high altitude thrusters functioning normally. All weapons disconnected without issue."

"Good, good. Sounds like this won't take too terribly long before we can get to your favorite part." She shot you a devilish grin, you could hear the fan on your back spinning faster to disperse the heat. Not giving you a moment to calm yourself, she took the screwdriver to your abdomen, removing each of the screws holding the steel plate in place. She then pulled the plate off, and set it aside.

“E-enabling hot-swapping mode, mistress.” Though most maintenance staff would set their combat dolls into a low power mode while swapping parts, mistress always preferred to keep you largely powered, doing the minimum to allow parts to be replaced over without causing you to blue-screen.

She took a small flashlight in her hand and shined it into your now open abdomen, looking for the faulty capacitor in question. “Yeah, I see it here, shouldn’t be too hard to replace.” She placed the flashlight in her mouth, and grabbed out the necessary parts. A portable desoldering tool in one hand and the new capacitors in the other, with a soldering iron to the side to set the new ones in place. She reached in with the desolderer, and began working to remove the faulty capacitor. “You know, used to be that I’d need to pull out this whole board to remove the capacitors, but nowadays you can keep your insides inside while I work” She continued giving casual conversation as she worked, hard to understand with the flashlight in her mouth.

Before you knew it, all four had been replaced. Ordinarily, that would’ve been it, your engineer would give you a quick look over and close you back up. Mistress had other plans, of course. “Okay, I think we’re ready for a bit of stress testing.” She removed the flashlight from her mouth and set it down. “Are you ready, machine?”

Machine, there was always something about the way she called you that, so formal, yet so sensual whenever she said it. Nothing else made being a doll feel so good in your mind. You eagerly nodded your head.

She gave an amused chuckle and continued. “Very well, how about we start with…” She reached her hand into your open abdomen, and unplugged a small 3 prong connector from its socket. The fan on your back quickly slowed down and came to a stop. “It’s always important to test for these things, right?”

“A-ah, yes mistress.” You could feel yourself begin to warm up, you still had more than enough airflow to keep yourself from overheating, though to have your wires played with still excited your mind, the disconnected fan prompted a warning on your heads-up display, which you quickly dismissed.

“Hm, How about we test your radar tracking next?” Before you could respond, she disconnected the cable to your camera, leaving you unable to see. Another warning popped up, another warning dismissed. Despite this, you were still able to track what your mistress was doing, no combat doll would be limited to visible light camera for tracking targets.

You tracked your mistress as she clambered onto the table with you, and sat herself on your hips. She leaned forward slightly, and suddenly your vision came flooding back, the connection being restored. Actually seeing her now, on top of you, overwhelmed your senses.

“I’m almost done here, there’s just one last little thing I’d like to test before I’m satisfied.” The playfulness in her voice excited you, until suddenly all feelings of bliss cut off. Another warning popped up, notifying that another cable had been disconnected. You looked up to your mistress, she was holding a small 4 pin connector in one hand, the one that controls all feelings of pleasure. In her other hand was a paper clip.

She unfurled the paper clip until it was just a bent piece of metal wire, and leaned in again moving the metal wire towards the pins the connector used to be plugged in at. “So, all I have to do here is touch this to the first and fourth pins inside you, and…” A jolt of pleasure surged through your body, stronger than you could have ever imagined. By bypassing any sort of control and monitoring system, and simply shorting the two pins, she could overload your mind from sheer ecstasy leaving you, the once fearsome aerial combat doll, little more than a quivering mess on her mistress’s table.

After a couple more taps from the metal wire, you couldn’t focus on anything anymore. You hardly even noticed when your mistress got off of you and began reconnecting everything she unplugged. It was only when you heard the cooling fan on your back spin up that you finally came to your senses.

You looked over to your mistress. She was screwing your abdominal plate back into place, a content smile rested on her face. At all other times, you were E-415, an Excelsior class combat doll. But here, in these few tender moments you had, you were Eris, a machine loved by your mistress.

-----

I really hope you enjoyed this little thing I wrote, its my first time putting anything like this out on Tumblr, and I really enjoyed writing it^^

[writingjourney]

Papa(i cant decide what number 1-4) : angry at his lover, because she avoids him..

Reader in her bedroom: p-please love...kill me i have a fever

https://themidult.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/02/painting-woman-ill-sick-fluey-unwell2-800x500.jpg

(sorry for the link im too shy to send this ask as me, but i think its kinda funny)

ghosting | papa x gn!reader

I could not decide on a Papa either, so I kept it as neutral as possible and (I hope) you can all imagine the Papa of your choice :) and anon, you need not be shy, I am so grateful for your ask <3

summary: your papa thinks you're avoiding him but once he finally finds you, he realises that he got it all wrong.

content: 2.5k words, sick care, some suggestive remarks, fluff mostly

masterlist – Ao3 link

✦ ✧ ✦ 

Papa scoffs into his afternoon coffee, nearly spilling the hot liquid all over his papal robes. Still nothing. He’s staring at his phone, the screen cracked from when it slipped out of his pocket while he fucked you on his desk two days ago. And yet he can clearly make out the two blue hooks indicating that you’ve read his message from this morning.

What he also sees is that there is still no reply. Your silence, your absence, the uncertainty – it drives him mad. He is so used to having your undivided attention, seeing your name pop up on his screen with a frequency that keeps him from getting any work done as of late. Not your name, though, no. He saved you under “amore mio” a long time ago. Not that you’re aware of it just yet, but his feelings for you have long since surpassed mere lust and friendliness.

His mind constantly wanders to you. Knowing your schedule by heart, it is easy to imagine what you’re doing, what may have you so distracted. Right now, you should be helping in the gardens, sweaty and panting from the exertions in the warm afternoon sun. He knows how pretty you look like that, even more so when you’re sprawled out underneath him as he gets lost in the soft curves of your body. He yearns to lick the salty sweat off your heaving chest, to hear your whimpers as his lips leave not a single inch of your skin untouched.

Alas, he is stuck in his office, brooding over paperwork.

He’s trying hard to concentrate on the words in front of him, not to stare at his screen all day like a depraved, starving man. Impatient, he even set the phone to vibrate but despite knowing he’d get a notification if you texted him, he taps the screen every two minutes to check. Just to make sure he doesn’t miss it. 

Oh how he’s longing for even the most delicate touch, a simple kiss on his cheek as you tell him to take it easy today, your hand squeezing his across the table. You used to do that, visit him in his office at least two times a day. Not always innocent. Actually, very rarely innocent. He can almost hear the echo of you screaming his name for half the abbey to hear. And yet, you have not been anywhere near these four desecrated walls in almost two days. Not since the last time you were intimate with him.

Why won’t you reply? A flash of doubt and a pang of anger. Could you be getting tired of him? Did he come on too strong? If that were the case, you should tell him. He’s a busy man, you of all people know that, and yet here you are practically ghosting him, as the younger Siblings call it. By now it’s almost dinner time, you must have had a chance to at least type in a yes or no. Papa knows if he can’t see you tonight he is going to lose his mind. He needs the confirmation or he’ll be nervous and distracted for the rest of his day.

Generous as he is, Papa gives you another hour, finishing up the dreadful paperwork before he has a quick dinner of reheated pasta from the day prior. It tastes like nothing to him and the emptiness of his quarters only adds to his foul mood. His eyes are still trained on his phone, the battery still half full, unused with the lack of texting. The only time his screen lights up this evening it’s to remind him that his screen time has gone up by eighty percent over the past week. It seems like that’s an issue you’re solving for him right now.

Papa knows he cannot go another night without seeing you. He needs to confront you, ask if you really lost interest or if you just need more space. Whatever it is, having clarity will be easier to bear than silence.

Entering the dorms is always risky business. People gossip, someone is going to see where he’s knocking, and while everyone knows the two of you are… something, he’s not keen on everyone speculating about why you’re suddenly on cooldown.

But when he knocks, nothing happens. He repeats the motion, rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, louder now. Nothing. He hears music, some sort of electronic beats, the tunes wafting over from another dorm room. A party, surely. Yours however remains eerily quiet. In a last attempt to find out if you’re even home, he tries the door.

It is unlocked, so you must be home. For a moment he considers leaving again but then a painful thought hits him: If you’re home, not opening up… it means you’re avoiding him. Clearly. 

What crime did he commit to deserve your ignorance? His anger propels him to enter, despite knowing he’s invading your privacy. But he cannot go back to his quarters without confronting you, not when he’s already in such pain. He’s feeling the anticipatory grief over losing you and it’s all because he let his guard down way too fast, leaning into your kindness, your loving nature. He always had a feeling that this was too good to be true, that despite thinking this time would be different, he’d end up in pain. Everyone just wants the sex, the fun, not the commitment that being with a Papa, maybe even loving a Papa, meant.

Fiddling with the doorknob, he feels awful for even thinking these things. You never gave him reason to doubt you, but it is just so easy to slip back into his old insecurities. Certain that he’s just seeing ghosts, Papa pushes the door open silently.

Upon entering the small antechamber that leads to your bedroom, he hears you moaning. He hears the rustling of sheets, the mattress creaking. A loud fuck.

Papa stops dead in his tracks, nearly toppling over as a wave of nausea hits him. For a second, his worst fears and his deepest insecurities melt into one big gooey ball of panic. He wants to be sure that what you have is special, but you never openly decided to be exclusive, that you wouldn’t see other people. He’s been meaning to ask, to tell you how he feels… too late, it seems.

But no. He soldiers on. If anyone else dares to touch you, they will receive all of his demonic, unholy wrath. He has a whole company of ghouls who would love to get a taste of human flesh again, if need be. Papa opens the door to your bedroom, anxious but driven, ready to face whatever lies behind. And he does find you in bed like he expected, only… you’re alone.

You don’t even look up. Are you sleeping? The room is stuffy, curtains closed and all he hears is your whimpering.

“Hello?” he asks quietly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“P-papa?” 

Your voice is barely audible. His anger turns into concern as he hurries to your side, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Immediately you reach for his hand in an attempt to squeeze, but it seems like you’re too weak to clench your muscles.

“Kill me, Papa. Release me from this torment,” you whine. “Please.”

“Tesoro, what is going on?”

You groan in reply, a sound only made more horrifying by the soreness of your throat. You sound like a dying animal and if he’s honest, you kind of smell like one too. He wonders how long you’ve been in this position.

“I am dying,” you whisper.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He’s scanning your body but most of it is covered. Before he can pull away the duvet, you try to squeeze his hand yet again, this time with more vigor.

“S-sick,” you choke out. “The flu.”

“The flu?”

Papa ignores the bad conscience that’s settling in his mind and gives into his worry. He jumps up, opening the curtains and the window to let in some fresh air. You hiss like you’ve been burned, despite the sun already setting. Disregarding your complaints, Papa finds a thermometer and pain killers on your bedside table.

“We need to check if you have a fever, tesorino, can you open your pretty mouth for me?”

You giggle at his words. “I’m too sick for that, Papa.”

“You clearly have a fever if you think I’m going to laugh about this right now,” he states, removing his gloves and throwing them aside. His scowl is not in earnest, he’s not annoyed, of course, but he needs you to know your health is paramount.

“You’re so dramatic,” you whisper but you let him slot the thermometer between your lips anyway.

“I am dramatic? Who’s been locked inside their room like they have the plague without replying to my texts?” 

Papa presses the backs of his hands to your hot cheeks, acting like a mom who doesn’t trust the thermometer. You’re burning up, worrying him even more. Your skin is ashen, hair tousled, and he can see you shaking slightly.

At his words, your brow furrows. “I texted back,” you say, words muffled by the device in your mouth.

“You did not, amore. I have been wondering what I did to upset you so,” Papa admits. “I thought you were avoiding me. Ghosting me, as they say.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and as soon as Papa pulls out the thermometer, forehead scrunching up as he reads the 38.9°C, you start babbling.

“I was not, Papa. I would never. I was so sad I could not see you.” You swallow, groaning as the pain in your scratchy throat hits you. “Can you check my phone? I dropped it.”

Papa finds it under your bed. He lets you unlock it and you’re right, you did reply, only you never hit sent. I am sick in bed, Papa. I miss you too, but I would not want you to catch the flu. ♥︎

“I would never avoid you on you purpose,” you whisper, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

He bends down to kiss your feverish forehead, feeling the heat against his lips. “I know that now, amore, don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I ever thought such a thing.”

“Amore?” you ask, grinning through a thick layer of haze. “That’s new, Papa.”

He can practically feel his cheeks turning rosy under his paint. “You know I like you, gioia mia, that is not new.”

“But amore is not just liking, right? It’s–”

“You have a fever, dolce. I need you to take the ibuprofen. Where do you keep your glasses?”

You pout at his interruption and with one last look at your puckered lips, he jumps up, avoiding not only your question but also the intense urge to kiss you. You’re in no condition to have a deep conversation right now. He searches the cupboards in your tiny kitchenette until he finds a glass he can fill with water. By the looks of it, you have not eaten all day, it’s far too clean.

“I don’t know if I can swallow,” you whine upon his return.

“We both know you’re very good at swallowing, amore. Open up.”

You frown without any real intensity and it’s an adorable sight, even in your messy, unkempt state. “I thought we weren’t joking about this.”

“It is allowed when I do it,” Papa says, practically shoving the pill into your mouth. “Drink, amore. You need liquids.”

You manage to swallow and the water feels like honey but only for a moment before the pain returns and your throat protests wildly. Even so, your mind still clings to his words.

“Papa,” you whine, reaching for his hand as soon as he’s set down the glass.

His mismatched eyes flicker to yours, still worried. “Yes?”

“You never answered.”

“We should talk about this tomorrow, sì? When you feel better.” At your sad expression he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “I will go find some soup for you now, some other medication.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“I will come back, dolce, you don’t make that pretty head worry too much, eh?” 

You whimper dramatically. “But what if I am dead by then?”

Papa sighs but it’s followed by deep chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “You win, amore, I will text one of the ghouls.”

As soon as the text is sent, Papa closes the window again and starts to undress. From your position on the bed you’re watching him like a hawk, pulling a fuzzy blanket over your mouth to hide your grin. He can’t help but find it endearing and suddenly he feels even worse for assuming the worst today. Once he’s in his briefs and undershirt, he crawls into bed behind you, pulling you close. You’re a little sweaty, not exactly smelling fresh, but he doesn’t mind. Feeling your warmth, having you tucked against him, it’s all he really needs. 

And as his heart does a flip, racing thanks to your proximity, he gently cups your cheek. “Do you think you can give me a kiss, amore?”

“But you’ll get sick,” you whisper, the protest dying as soon as he tilts your chin up.

His lips graze yours, softly pressing in more and more until you melt against him. Even your lips are warmer than usual and he keeps it chaste, breaking away to look into your eyes again.

“Papas don’t get sick, eh?” He gives a tender kiss to your forehead, gently running his fingers through your hair before they settle on your back. “Now, you wanted an answer.”

Your look is pleading and it’s like your shining eyes are trying to lure the words right out of him. He wonders how he ever worried you may not feel the same when it’s written all over your face. His nerves start showing then, fidgety fingers drawing tiny patterns on your back, and he can feel your hands pressing into his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you,” he finally says. “You are my amore, my love. Tieni il mio cuore in mano. Please, I want to ask you to be mine.”

“I love you, too.” A big grin spreads out on your face. You lean in to kiss him again, softly moving your lips against his, and you stay impossibly close as you whisper. “And I am yours, forever, if you are mine.”

Papa smiles against your mouth and for a moment he forgets that you’re sick and kisses you harder. When he breaks away, you’re breathless, coughing softly, but he can tell by the happy look on your face that it was worth it.

“I am yours, amore,” he says. “I am yours forever, if Satan allows me.”

You settle against his solid chest, warm cheek pressed to the skin just above the neckline of his shirt. After today, your Papa vows to take better care of you, to trust you fully and cast any doubts aside as soon as they arise. And so he wraps his arms around you even tighter, whispering soft praises  into your hair until you’re finally asleep again, the only sound in the room your soft and even breathing.

non vedo l’ora di baciarti – I can’t wait to kiss you

tieni il mio cuore in mano – you hold my heart in your hand

[modelbus]

It says that your requests are open so here goes nothing.

I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS THEY ARE SO AMAZING LIKE MWH OU ARE THE DEFINITION OF AN AUTHOR 💗💗

So basically could you do a Tommyinnit x reader (I love molly guys <3) and like the reader has Tourette’s syndrome? And like on of their tics is that they say like ‘fuck you’ or ‘piss off’ and just really offensive stuff but they can’t control it (obviously). So Tommy shows them for the first time on his stream as his partner and people like hate them because of how they are ‘acting weird’ or ‘being rude’. (Also can there be a service dog with the name Kai? Also can he be an Autrilian Shepard? If not that’s fine :])

If you can thank you :) (you can call me lulu if you want)

I tried my best to be as accurate as possible, and I did my own research into some things, but if there's anything I messed up please tell me and I will fix it immediately! I had no idea people could get service dogs for Tourettes so I did some research into tasks and such too.

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Gn!Reader

Ticked Tics

"Are you sure you want me on your stream?" You can't help but ask, leg nervously bouncing.

Tommy, your ever-so-patient boyfriend, was thrilled when you agreed to show up for one of his streams. "Just one" he had claimed, and you had given in nearly immediately. But now that you're seconds away, sitting in a chair next to him while his starting soon screen is up, you're having second thoughts. Not about your own social anxiety, but about what might happen for him if your Tourette's acts up.

It's been a pretty mild day so far, which is why you felt good agreeing to go on stream in the first place. But as your anxiety builds, you find yourself involuntarily having tics. Head jerking to the side as your shoulder jerks up, inches away from colliding with each other, is one you do most often and it's one you're repeatedly doing now.

"Of course!" He assures you. "They'll love you. I mean, I love you so they have to or else I'll ban them all."

“Sounds a bit like a dictatorship, Tom.”

“I am a dick-tay-tor!” He exclaims, purposefully separating the word.

“Eat shit.” You chirp immediately, paired with two middle fingers. Immediately after you shoot him an apologetic look. “Sorr—“

“I will eat shit, thank you.” He responds pleasantly.

It’s a thing he does sometimes; responding to your tics. In a way it makes you feel better, less like it’s genuinely annoying him. Your apologetic look turns into laugh.

“Ready?” He asks you, hovering over the OBS scene to switch into his camera.

You lower your hand, holding it out parallel to the floor to your side. Within seconds a warm and furry creature pushes its head up into your hand. You send a smile to your service dog, Kai, running a hand through the white fur on top of his head. Expensive as hell, but you love him.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Let’s do this.”

Tommy clicks over the scene change, leaning back in his chair and clapping his hands. “Welcome to the stream boys!” He yells out.

Kai worms his head into your lap, blue eyes staring up at you while his tail wags softly. He’s a cuddler, especially when it comes to you getting anxious in order to calm you down.

“Now we have a special guest.” Tommy waves his hand dramatically, faking holding a microphone out to you. “Introduce yourself, special guest.”

”Oh, piss off.” The second the words are out of your mouth, you dig your nails into your palm. Fuck. Kai licks at your hand until you open it, letting him set his head on your palm.

“Wise words.” Tommy nods. “So, everyone, this is my partner! You all thought it couldn’t be done, but I’m so hot and attractive.”

He pauses for a second, looking over at his second monitor where the chat is pulled up. It’s scrolling through messages fast, making you look away before you get a headache.

“Hi.” You say awkwardly to the stream. "That's me."

“Today I was going to tell you all a little story! You’re all my little bitty children, gathering around for a bedtime story.”

“It’s, like, 4.” You point out to him.

“Schematics! And I brought you along because you were there during this story, so you can chime in!” He leans over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders to shake you a bit. You laugh, playfully swatting his hands away.

“Yeah yeah.” Even with the camera and the stream, this is still Tommy. Your Tommy. “This is the pigeon story, right?”

He nods. “It was a dark and dreary night—buzz word guys!—when I stumbled upon the pigeon.”

“Very dark, very dreary.” You agree.

It was actually broad daylight when this had happened, but who cares?

“And I was just living my life, very casually—“

“Fuck you!”

Despite your tic, Tommy continues talking. Used to it, and knowing he doesn’t need to respond. “—waking down the street with my partner here. As I do, right? Walking around like a normal person.”

He keeps talking, parts of the story true then other parts outlandishly wild. You don’t correct the lies, finding it funnier than you probably should.

You let your attention drift to Kai, who has apparently decided to weasel his way halfway into your lap. Your hands brush past his soft ears, losing focus. When you turn back to Tommy, he’s about halfway through his story.

“And then I said—“

“Fuck you!”

“No.” He deadpans. “Come on, don’t you remember?” Tommy laughs. Not in a cruel way like people have laughed at you before, but in a joking way. A way that implies you’re in on the joke with him.

“What part are we even at?” You laugh.

“The bread seller. The sketchy one. Oh! And he smelled, chat. Like… like what I think Sapnap would smell like.”

On a knee-jerk reaction, you raise your hand, fully ready to just bonk the desk with your fist. Before you can, Tommy’s hand darts out, catching your wrist and holding steady until you can uncurl your fingers from the fist.

“Sorry.” You murmur, hopefully quiet enough that the stream doesn’t pick it up.

“No worries.”

You lean back in your chair, watching him explain things to chat. He’s far more animated than normal, making it almost endearing to watch.

Eyes sliding over to chat, you realize it’s slowed down a bit so you can read it. You have to double read several messages, heart stopping.

“Anyone else think Tommy’s partner is rude af rn???”

“His partner lowkey an asshole…”

“run while u can Tommy!!”

“they’re so fucking weird XD”

“Omg THATS his partner”

“bro got the shittiest partner fr fr”

Kai barks sharply, making you jump. Tommy spins towards you immediately, looking at Kai first.

“Yeah?” He asks the dog, before looking to you. Tommy studies you for a second, then his eyes flick to the chat. “Emote only for a second guys.”

Well, fuck.

Kai had barked, pretty loudly, and not for no reason. As one of his tasks he was trained to alert to possible tic attacks, detecting the hormone change before even you could. He was also trained to help calm you down and help with the tic attack, but detection was first.

And of course Tommy knew what it meant, and of course he knew why. He knew you too well, a fact you loved him for and also sometimes hated him for.

“Chat, I’m seeing some negativity here. None of that in my stream, and none of that towards my partner is allowed.” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for silent permission to tell the stream. You nod. “They have Tourette’s, so just fucking piss off about giving ‘em shit for their tics.”

He pauses, and you realize a moment too late he’s letting you explain what the hell Tourettes and tics are.

“Um, for those who don't know, Tourette's is a neurological thing which causes involuntary tics." You explain, albiet a bit awkwardly. But Tommy nods, smiling at you.

"And Kai is here. Can we show Kai to the stream? Stream, say hi to Kai the service dog!"

You click your tongue, calling for Kai even though he's right next to you. "C'mere Kai!" He practically clambers into your lap to suffocate you.

"Oh, God, Kai-" You yelp.

Tommy is of no help, too busy laughing. After a second he guides Kai off of you, leaving you to spit out dog hair.

"So yeah, there's that. Now that everyone has stopped being dickheads, back to my very important story."

You reach forward, taking a drink of Tommy's coke to clear your mouth of any dog fur you might've accidentally ingested. Australian Shepards, although cute, have so much fur.

"Am I going to pay attention to the fact my partner is choking on dog hair?" Tommy asks rhetorically. "No, I'm not. Continuing."

[ikkosu]

MY DARLING MEDIC

(fem.human.medic.reader x pharma)

summary : tarn strikes up a deal with pharma. but when he refuses, the tank takes up a more personal measure to confront him.

warning : angst. fluff (if you look real close💀). blood. this is the DJD what'd you exoect. bro I fucking died writing this. wanted to cut this in like several parts but decided to merge it together. wanted to write this into a multi-chaptered fic but my commitment could never. could be a series ig. lovely headers by @cafekitsune

One moment he's caught Ambulon at gunpoint, then the next he’s scampering down the halls, clutching the vials close to his chassis as he tears through for an exit. The game is up. He should've known better than to nab the easy path. Responsibility purges itself a mile away when confronted at the baseline of his problems. Now, it's got him cornered and Ratchet — who barged into the room — his friend, his oh-so-dear friend, pulls up a blaster.

PHARMA doesn’t know what to say.

Points it at his face.

His own mirth were flaked with rust, crinkled into a grimace, where along the crevices, the miniscule cracks, oozed spatter of crimson. The gun was unsteady; he’s shaking. He's infected. The uncomfortable feeling of your insides twisting punched him back. It gutted him more than he could realize and he’s got no guts, just thrumming circuits struggling, and failing, to prevent the inevitable.

So he does just that— prevent the inevitable.

A, one, two, three BANG of bullets barrage the other side of the room. Disregarding the startled shout of surprise, he stepped round the corner, making a beeline for the shaft. Storms of remorse whirled around his processors as he pulls himself up the ladder. It jostled and creak, much like how his jitter palms does when he's drunk on andrenaline.

He’s made that mistake again. He should’ve known better. He should’ve. Impulse stumps logic and now, he's outside. In the cold. Digits clinched the edge, close to slipping. Close to falling. Ratchet is aboven and where his optics catch below, he can see the fall, the descending vertigo of ire before his eyes.

“Pharma, buddy — what the hell happened to you?”

YOU scroll aimlessly through the datapad.

He doesn’t know; he might never will.

Propped against the armchair, legs crossed and ankle bobbing, the screen flared your face with a soft blue-ish glow as the lines of words blurred together the more you strained to stare.

You're bored. Tired, too. But mostly bored. You were able to rest in your office after a tough match with several unruly patients. They were mechs. Pretty big mechs. And, they were a little, ah, how do you put this, organicophobes?

One of them had a more dire diagnosis : a t-cog malfunction. A type 3 kind. One that involved the t-cog overheating from too much usage, causing it to, in a way if you were to explain in human terms, like an organ, rot. It was deteriorating quick and the metal shards, miniscule ones, had already infected the internal circuitry.

A kind of job that required smaller, steady hands.

In short, they required humans.

You can handle a bit of discrimination — resentment against Organics was normal here despite the rules ensured to prevent so — but it still gutted you, knowing these mechs can do better than to hate another race from their own.

Especially when the said race tried to save their life.

A little bit of acknowledgment doesn't hurt from time to time.

You hope they were doing well, though.

The silence of the room was broken by footsteps approaching your office. The sliding doors opened with a swish and there you could discern the wide Cheshire grin of smugness amidst the slight darkness of the room. You should really stop shutting the lights, its begging to hurt your eyes. His teeth were practically glowing and was obvious he's quite in a good mood today.

You tucked the datapad inside the cabinet and caved against the cushion of the armchair, tipping your chin up into a smile, brimming with curiosity. One much as a 'whats he gonna pull this time?' type of curiosity.

“Working hard, I presume?” He croons, slinking across the room to your cubicle with several strides.

You quirk a brow; he's got something behind his back but you don’t press.

“Depends on which report you’re haggling me about,” You reply back, a playful smile. “Though, I can’t say for sure which region I am currently hard in, doctor. Would you like a scan?"

It catches him off gaurd for a moment — a simple one, two, three blink of his optics and your smile prods wider upon the not so subtle twitch of his wings. It sags in frustration.

“And here I thought I might have, for once, an appropriate greeting from my darling. I can never grasp your vulgar little mind, no less the entire mapping of your organic, squishy little brain,” His optics twitches as he vents. "But I’m not here to lecture you on prudence, no. I’ve got you a little, ah, herbal gift from my trip off world. The one you adore so much.” Then he adds with a mumble. "So much more than me, apparently.”

You perk up, and if you’re anything like a bunny, those ears would straghten right up to the brim. "What, like tea?”

"Even better, dear."

A ceramic mug is quickly perched onto your desk with a clink. You can't help but to coo in adoration at the utterly adorable little thing. It’s those tiny little teacups with teal blue flowers pasted across. A petite like holder, round and smooth, accommodated the curl of your finger. Nostalgia wrings you nto its clutches, back to teatime with your stuffed animals. You'd always be the princess.

You inhale the drink, warm steam wisps from tea, the color is an emerald-like-ore cadence under the stark white light.

"Since when did they have green tea in Nexus?"

"Earth, apparently. Globalization this, Space-localization that. Ignore the specifics. I'm sure you're better off without another lesson in economy?"

"I'd rather keep my thinking intact."

“Hm, that's a lot less fun. Anywho, I've taken some of my time to make it myself.” He pronounced, optics closed, regarding the cup with a theatrical wave proudly. "In fact, I have purchased the finest, well-endowed tea packet from the best of the best merchants. Never mind the cost, it's a splendid little thing, no?”

You’re still a little stunned admiring the cup but you blurt the first thing to mind.

“Smells fruity, for sure.”

He snaps one optic open, then entire look falls into offense. “Fruity is not what I had in mind.”

Ah, fuck.

"....nice?”

"Not that, either.”

“Ah, er, well — Great....?"

“Try again, dear.”

“C'mon docbot, what do you want me to say?”

”I’ve bought a tea packet that costs more than what this entire hospital is worth and you're describing it as 'nice?'”

You scrambled for words, fishing for the right one until— “Fragrant!" You snap your finger. "Right, fragrance.”

He stares.

You stare.

His rigidness loosens a little.

“One of these days I should really lecture you on the essence of compliments. See there? The mug is a ceramic. I’ve taken much care to handle it. It's from a lovely old organic. Her little shop in Nexus are a must to visit again."

You lean against your palm, eyes crinkled, cheeks round with warmth. “Is this a compensation?"

"For breaking your bed, yes—" you choke a little at that "—Now, go on, taste it.” He bends over to rest his elbows on the table, perching his chin on his two servos like a girl would, kicking their little feet during a sleepover.

“Don’t you have to buy me a new bed to compensate for that?”

He huffs, “ I already did. This is a bonus. Now, stop stalling. I have a patient to tend in a few hours and unless you've not taken a sip, I'm not going anywhere."

"Right, right. No pressure, doc."

"Very much."

You pinch the cup between your index and thumb. A pinkie is jutted out the for dramatics where you caught his lethargic look of disdain to it. And the final act concludes when the rim kisses your lips and you take a sip.

"Well?"

You stare at the ceiling for a moment.

"s'good...woah, real good." You blink in surprise, licking your lips to process the taste. "It's like my mother's! How'd you make this?"

“I was hoping you’d ask that.” He takes it upon himself to sit on your desk, inching close. "It's a, well, how do I put this — an obscure ingredient I am not willing to disclose."

"...You didn't lace this with laxatives didn't you?" You challenge.

"Laxatives?" He almost balks. "No, of course not. Why would I ever do such a thing? Think again."

You squint like that'll help you think. "Vanilla extract?"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Sugar?"

"Not a chance, dear."

"Milk."

"Far from close."

"Salt?"

"Are you serious?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I'll die by the time I cover the whole list of ingredients." You stand up with a huff.

All he does return, however, is a bemused crinkle of mirth from his eyes.He says nothing, only curling out a digit where it prods the area just above your chest. He taps it. Once. Then twice. It took a moment before the cogs turned on its own, and when it does, your cheeks flared up much to your chagrin.Oh. Oh. Your heart. The secret ingredient is—

—love?

You slumped to your chair, clutching your face to fight away the embarrassment at his audacity. You wanted to say it was the lamest, cheap, heart grabbing compliment of all time but you can't.

You just can't.

It's too....sweet.

"I swear Pharma...." If anything, you're reduced to a sputtering mess.

"Pharma? Not so much. I think 'God' would be the latter end. I swear to God, no?"

"Okay smartass."

"I know my rear-end is quite fine. Though, reduce your compliments to the bedroom, please."

"Pharma!"

There was something innately fond with how he’s fixated upon your scrunched up faces and agitated eyes.

Your eyes, they were always so expressive, so bright, much like stars when they flicker amidst the darkest night. A miniscule notion yet so wide in prominence. A haven he could dwell in when plagued upon with sullen days.

He couldn’t resist, and with his digits squishing your cheeks, he pulls you close. The agitation melts the moment you feel his lips against your temple, cheek, nose then your lips.

You glare at him when he pulls away."

"...You’re really making it hard for me to focus my angry molecules into an explosive blast, you know."

“Blast? Please, the least you can do is wield a knife and you're horrible at combat.Also, that's scientifically inaccurate.”

“Oh, shut up.” You look away, faltering at the sight of the door. “....You know what I meant.”

“How about you, as the humans would say, shut me up for a change?" His eyes became playful, tone borderline seductive. You're still fixated on the door. “On the topic of something explosive. Since we’re getting off our shift early today, I was wondering if you’re willing to test the new coils on our bed—“

“….Pharma?” But your eyes on fixed on somewhere else, or someone behind him.

"Doctor."

That isn't your voice.

Pharma’s sensor flares much as his wings did when he whirled around. His spark churned at the sight of the engraved decepticon insignia on his chassis and the gruesome signature mask upholstered on the mech’s face. A mask intended to revel fear, douse the flames of sanity.

Instantly the atmosphere shifted.

It dawns upon him how vulnerable he currently is. How close youre in proximity to the tank. How easily he could tear through the room and kill you. Lodge a knife through your chest. Leave you there on the floor. Skull, cracked. Brains, spooling. Blood agash. A simple red stain on the rag.

Pharma is terrified — he’s terrified of his unpredictability. Whatever thoughts are churning in his head are reduced to a blank slate as his shadow looms over, dwarfing his frame. He's not even moving. Just lingering there by the door. Any second now he could lose his temper and any second later you could be dead. Reduced to atoms. When crimson eyes flickered over, leaning to the side to get a better look, Pharma steps aside to shield you from his gaze.

“I’ll be there, Tarn.” He says stiffly.

The mech regards you for a moment before striding off. Away. The doors swished closed. How'd he knows where he was?

“Who’s that?” You ask, an innocent question he wished he could answer but Pharma pulls you up to your feet, his optics locked on the door.

“No one important, darling .” He replies yet he's already packing your stuff, pulling and shoving everything from your desk. His servos are jittery, wings twitching, brows furrowed.

You follow him around, wringing your hands. "Pharma? I thought you said—“

“Go home without me, dear.” He whirls around after tucking in your jacket into the last slot of your pouch and slips the bag over your shoulder. "It’s late and you have an early shift tommorow, no?"

You deflate, defeated. "Yeah, but i—"

"I have a meeting to attend. It'll be be fine. I won't stay up too late, I promise."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He’s composed but you know he’s not. You know from the twitch of his digits he’s hiding something. He's a cunning deceptive man amidst all the layers but he's never a good liar. You wonder if it’s a reasonable time to press but in the end he’ll just figure out another lie to deceive you.

It'll hurt to leave.

You give him a wry grin. “Don’t stay up too late then or she’ll hog the covers.”

“Fortify the bed for me.” He pulls you for a kiss. "Get home safe."

PHARMA doesn’t want to open the door.

"Will do, doc bot."

Instead, he's pacing the front, wringing his servos, muttering to himself. He knows he should. But the temptation to stride in, get it over with, then walk back out was inviting. An in and out kind of ordeal wasn't the kind Tarn tolerates, much rather, he's mech hiding behind the facade of patience.

He's the worst to impatient.

Steeling himself, Pharma juts his chin up, bearing his usual haughty demeanor and barges through the door. Tarn's imposing presence was enough to halt his circuity but he pulls on the act, pedes an impatient thunk against the floor he rounds the desk, slumping on the chair. Unbothered.

“Make it quick. I have my duties to attend. Another influx of patients up from the east were admitted today. My schedules are full."

Tarn says nothing, regards him for a moment before tossing a deception insignia onto the table. It skidded across, bumping his elbow. By the scrapped off sheen of metal surrounding the symbol, it appears to be ripped out. There’s still energon on it. Barely dry. Pharma pulls away with a grimace. He needed air.

"One of your patients that I've taken care of."

By taken : unruly, unethical forms of torture.

“You ruined a nicely done table in favor of your dramatics.”

“Dramatics to which I prefer not to be taken ever so loosely, doctor." He flicks off a chip fron his talons. It plinks on his desk.

“You’re hiding them here.” He grits, a smooth croon of his voice. So deep, relaxing if not for the fact that he's close enough to snap his neck broken.

“No, I do not,”

“You know better than to lie to me, Pharma. You see, I know everything and it doesn’t take long for me to wrench that truth out of you, I assure you. So, answer me : are you hiding them here?"

“What does it matter to you?"

"A whole lot if you're anywhere close to the ranks of a deception warrior. But, for this circumstance, I will turn a blind eye to it and leave you alone."

Pharma straightens up, surprise. "Impossible. There should be a catch."

He can imagine how smug the smile behind the mask is. A crinkle of his eyes, a gentle prod of his lips — a facade so deceiving it was hard to believe this mech was the cause for all the sufferings they've imposed upon those traitors.

"Yes. And I'll get to the point. I accepted your rejection to your proposal last week because I understood your hesitance. I gave you time to think about it and right now it is dire I require more stocks of the T-cogs. Refuse me and I'll have to take up a more, personal counteractive measure to persuade you."

Pharma stiffens. He tries not to glance at your framed picture on his desk.

"You wouldn't want that would you?"

He narrows his optics. “I don’t know what you mean,"

Tarn shoots out an arm, wide digits curled around his neck cables before he yanks him close, clamping down, choking him. The doctor struggles, clawing at his chest.

“You’re meddling with an organic, Pharma—"Tarn croons, squeezing tighter with every disgust that laced his word. "—That is what I mean and while I prefer not to cut out the pleasantries, she will suffer from the consequences of your actions if you’re not going to concede. So, I’m going to make myself clear. Do you accept that deal or do you not?’’

Pharma tugs on his wrist to loosen the grip

“Please, anything, please, I—“ He holds up his hands placatingly, choking down his last grip of pride. "I'll do it. I'll do it! Just don't..."

Please, don’t hurt her.

"....Just don't. She's innocent. Don't bring her into this, Tarn. She's a remarkable doctor, please—"

Tarn releases his hold. Pharma drops to the ground, clutching his neck.

"I'll send you the list of requirements and a few donors willing to concede. You know where to find me when a problem arises."

Pharma is still on the ground, shaking, pressing his helm against the cold, metal floor. The footsteps disappear much like the diminishing hope in his chassis.He shouldn’t have listened, he shouldn’t have. Tarn and his sweet, sweet lies that’ were always so alluring, drawing him into the abyss.

You're in front of him. Behind was Tarn. He's got a blaster. And from the core were wisps of smoke,

THE tea cup, the one with the flowers painted across were discarded shards on the floor. Fragmented much like the reality he denies as he's wrangled behind. Arms tied. Wrists bounded. He stares, distraught.

”Ph..Pharma…” You’re confused as your palm hover overs the stain, the hole on your torso, the white a crimson red. You look down then up, expression contorted like you're asking him why. “I- I don’t understand…” You ramble and three frantic steps back you collapse, stumbling to the floor.

"What have you done....." Pharma tries to wrench away from Helex's grasp, voice rising to octaves. "Organic internal structures are weaker than a Cybertronians! This blow is fatal, do you not realize she'll die?!

Tarn steps over your body, and marches over to the jet, grabbing his face with a forceful shove. "Think again before you lecture me about those flesh-like scum. Why do you think I've chosen this method of action to condemn your actions with?"

"I couldn't get hold of the corpses in time!" He's frantic, shuffling, leaning aside to peer over the wide shoulders of Tarn. " They're not easy to get when you're a doctor every hour. I couldn't possibly kill the patients, cant I? Please, she needs medical attention, Tarn."

"And it's delayed, much like how you delayed my commodities."

"A deal is a deal. You should know better than to disrupt it."

He should've known better.

Pharma shoots out an arm, he clutches the white jacket, the sleeve, pulling the body. He ignores how heavy, how limp and lifeless you were, compared to the motning when you were just laughing, rolling around on the bed that smelt like lavender, smiling about some pointless joke you scoured from the net.

With each pull, crimson stained and scraped the concrete floor, grime collecting at the base of your body. He doesn't seem to mind. He's too tired. Much too lethargic. When he's got you in his arms, he cradles you, holding you. His digits pinch your cheeks, You’re not warm anymore. You’re cold. Just like his armour, just like the air, just like your eyes. Much like a star, it's doused. The brightness — it's gone. No longer flickering. A mass, the singular speck, gone.

“Pharma, buddy —what the hell happened?”

“Everything. Everything did.”

He cups your jaw, presses a kiss to your temple, your nose, then one last lingering kiss to your lips.

[jaded-jezz]

Shutter Speed (Part 2)

Jack Champion x Photographer!Reader

Part 2/3

☁︎ Fluff

Summary: y/n is a photographer for the new scream promo and Jack thinks she belongs in front of the camera rather than behind.

(Y/N POV)

"Look who decided to show up!" I hear Jenna say but I am too occupied in taping marks on the floor to turn around. Leah goes over to introduce herself, welcome the late cast to the shoot and explain the plan and rules.

"You must be Y/N?" I hear my name and stand up to correct the voice. "I'm Leah, she's Y/N." Leah turns to me as I appear next to them.

“Woah…I mean Jack, I’m hi.” The boy in front of me stutters. “No! I mean Hi, I am Jack. Sorry for being late.” I hold back a small laugh and smile. “Are you sure you’re Jack? I mean the name ‘hi’ might suit you more.” I jest. “I’m Y/N, did Leah go over all the rules? Are there any questions?” My voice moves back into professional mode as we have a lot of work to do today.

(JACK'S POV)

"You totally played that off man" Mason chuckles behind me, pulling me out of the trance that this Y/N has put me in. I feel my face heating up and I can't tell if its the multitude of lights in here or her stare that burned through my heart. God snap out of it, Jack, you have to do your job today.

I watch Y/N fall into her element and do what, I can tell that, she loves. She is mesmerizing.

"Stop drooling, she may run away" I hear Jenna whisper to me and before I can defend myself, "Umm... next I need Jack Champion over here on the blue mark please" You need me? Ok say less, I joke to myself to calm my nerves. I keep my eyes on the floor to ensure I don't trip but also so that I won't turn into a blushing mess if she looks at me. God, this is the first time I've been glad these lights are this bright.

I follow her instructions, her voice is music to my ears. It's like I am under a spell. A love spell? No lets not get ahead of ourselves. Wait, she's staring at me.

"Jack? Do you wanna see one of the photos?" Leah suggests from the side of the room, trying to break the awkward silence between the two of us. "Oh sure!" I stumble over wires to stand next to her. "No, go over to Y/N, she'll show you how everything works and how the images will be edited after the shoot."

(Y/N POV)

I give Leah a panicked look before Jack turns to walk over. His curls bounce as he hops over the leg of the tripod. "Oh you are tall." I say without thinking. "Oh yeah, but so are you." He answers looking down at me. "It's probably my shoes." I laugh, "Did you wanna see the photos?" I bring up the subject to make sure I don't say anything I may regret.

"Do you enjoy being a photographer?" Jack inquires. That sets me off. I could talk for hours about photography.

"I have loved it since I was 10 and I could not imagine persuading any other career. I am constantly thinking of photo shoots whenever I leave my house. Wall of graffiti? Photo shoot idea. Aesthetic shampoo bottle? Photo shoot idea. I am constantly inspired by everything around me which means my job can be difficult when I am given a strict brief but luckily, whoever hired us, gave us full creative freedom." I wave my arms around for emphasis. But too much emphasism as I almost hit Jack. He swerves and giggles, luckily.

"Oh shit, I am so sorry." I cringe and look back to the camera screen. "It's ok, Y/N" The way he says my name makes a swarm of butterflies flutter in me. I look up into his eyes. Brown eyes used to freak me out because it is more difficult to see the pupil, but maybe I like them a bit more now. Maybe he can help me like other things too. Ew, don't get carried away or you will scare him off.

After our stares last a beat too long, Leah clears her throat and alerts the group that we will now be moving to an outside shoot. She tells them to go back to the changing rooms to get out of their costumes and into the brand we are shooting with for the second part of the day. While they leave, Leah and I start to collect the equipment we are bringing. I grab my notebook for the checklist.

"You are doing great Y/N, especially with a certain someone." Leah raises her eyebrows and winks at me. I roll my eyes and walk over to turn off some of the bigger lights.

(JACK'S POV)

As the group walks to change, I see Jenna and Mason standing by the doors. They are sharing a similar look towards me, it's kinda freaking me out. "He totally does!" "Yep, I can see it in his eyes." I roll my eyes at their odd behavior and attempt to walk past them. "Oh no Mister."

They drag me out of the studio and into the hallway. "Man, when I said charm them with your good looks, I sorta hoped you would also charm her with the rest of you." Mason starts. "Yeah, we knew you were awkward, but not this bad. I wanted to claw my eyes out!" Jenna exclaims rather loudly.

"Could you be any louder? And it wasn't that bad, and I am not flirting!" I shout in a whisper. "No one said you were flirting, except you." Jenna retorts. "We've exposed you without even trying" Mason shouts to annoy me again. "Fine, she's really beautiful and she is really passionate about her job which is kinda cute and-"

"Ok lover boy relax, you don't need to go into detail." Jenna cuts me off with a look of both disgust and happiness, so I know she is just being sarcastic. "We will help you get this girl of your dreams" Mason adds. I can't tell if this is a bad idea but I nod and walk to the changing rooms to make sure I am not late again.

When we are all re-dressed, the cast starts to follow Leah out but I look for Y/N. I see her pacing back and forth, looking rather stressed. I don't know if me going over will make it worse. But I don't have time to decide as two pairs of hands push me towards her.

"Y/N, are you ok? Have you lost something?" "Yes! My notebok. It has all my plans and lists inside. I really need it. Like right now. Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?" She panics. "Ok, you need to sit down before you faint or something goes wrong."

I reach for her hand and gently guide her to sit next to me. I scan the room for a notebook before asking her any questions. She keeps a hold of my hand and I have to pretend not to notice or I might be the one to faint. "Is it that green thing over there?"

(Y/N'S POV)

"Oh my god! Yes it is!" I jump up and grab it. When I turn around, I am again faced with Jack's chest. I look up at him and smile. I feel weirdly calm after that whole anxiety filled fiasco, maybe it's because of Jack?

"Thank you Jack, I think I would've died without this." I try to laugh. "That's ok, I think we need to go now though, I know you have quite a strict schedule for today." He responds.

Jack offers to hold some equipment to make sure I can see where I am going over the pile of objects. When we leave the building I see the other cast members grabbing or putting away stuff in their cars so I take my kit back from Jack to allow him to do the same. I walk over to Leah to let her know I found the notebook.

"I was going to come back to help you but I heard a certain someone calming you down." She says as I stand next to her. "He is definitely your type, isn't he? Tall, lanky-" I cut her off "Yes Leah you don't need to continue. I can't let a silly crush get in the way of today though. It's not even a crush! I've not even known him for five minuets! All I know is his name." I say so fast I almost run out of breath.

"Let's get going while the sun is still out." I shout to the group.

(This is the photoshoot that inspired this series so you can vision this location and photoshoot style)

(TIME SKIP + STILL Y/N POV)

We have been talking photos outside in both groups and alone. It's so sunny outside that no lights are needed, just portable reflectors. Which are big circles of materials that bounce the sun in a chosen direction. Leah and I split up for the last half an hour as we have different ideas due to the location and lighting right now. Some of the cast have moved away to film TikToks and to stand in the shade but some are continuing to model for us if they have less photos than others.

I noticed Jack had finished talking to Mason and Jenna before he started walking over to me.

"Hey Y/N! Is there any last ideas in your notebook?" He asks.

"Oh just this one." I start. "Because of the harsh sun I am are able to play around with different filters on my camera. One of my favorite makes stars in light reflections, would you try out over here?" My hands are shaking as I hand him a small square of mirrored glass.

We mess around for a while, me running back and forth to show him how to pose, how to angle the mirror to reflect light and to show him the results. After a while I am so out of breath that Jack finds it funny.

As the sun starts to go down, the cast all joins up for the last photo including Leah and I for our Instagram. We all start walking back slightly delirious due to the amount of running around some of us had been doing. Jack is walking next to me, at the back of the group, continuing one of our random conversations from earlier.

"You are really talented Y/N, I know you have probably been told that a lot today, but you really are." Jack says in a slight hushed tone. I can't control the big smile on my face. He is such a genuine human being. "Thank you for being a wonderful model." I laugh.

I notice him glance ahead at the group before slowing down and truing to me. "I don't know if i have read this situation wrong but I think you are beautiful and I get feel like we get along so well even though we haven't known each other that long and I am rambling aren't I?" He looks down at his feet and rakes a deep breath.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me?" He finally looks me in the eye as he says this. "Wow Jack, of course I will. I don't think someone has made me laugh this much, apart from myself obviously" I jest. We trade numbers as we catch up with the group.

After the cast all go their separate ways, Leah and I burst out into screams of happiness. "MY BEST FRIEND IS GOING ON A DATE WITH A HOT, FAMOUS PERSON WHOOOOOP" Leah shouts as we skip around the car park, arms linked.

Who wants a Part Three? It will be about pre-date, during and maybe even their reactions with friends after too?

As always, requests are currently open!

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

Also some people asked me to Tag them so here you go:

@gwenlore @multi-simp-page @daffodil-darlings @mummatiri

I’m quite new to tagging people so lemme know if you want to be tagged for all my Jack Champion Posts or just this series?

[sakkiichi]

BETTER THAN REVENGE.

you and your ex ended on bad terms. you want revenge. your annoying best friend might be the answer.

ft. Childe x gn! reader.

cw/genre: romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mild angst, fluff, modern/college au, very brief mention of alcohol consumption.

word count: 2.6k.

i dreamt about this idea months ago, and i thought my first genshin crush’s birthday would be a good day to write it hehe. happy birthday ajax <3

What did you ever see in that asshole, you will never know.

You hate him. Of that, you are certain.

You really tried to put effort into your relationship, made time for him, prioritized him.

It seemed to always go unreturned.

And that much is made clear tonight, the sight of him making out with someone else at this party you don’t even know why you decided to attend, being the last straw.

“We’re done, you jerk.” Are the words you spat at him, throwing the remnants of your drink at your now ex-boyfriend.

You regret it now. Having wasted half a drink, that is.

The music blasting through the speakers is soon replaced by crickets chirping and the night wind ruffling through the trees. You spare a glance at the moon above. Full, its rays seemingly lighting up a liquid silver trail leading to you.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar, and, might you add, annoying at times, voice questions.

Well, at least it’s better than hearing your ex, you muse to yourself, as you turn around to face your friend.

His ocean blue eyes glimmer in the summer starlight rain, matching the color of his baby blue t-shirt.

A smile makes it to your face. You always loved to steal that one when you had sleepovers.

“Nothing gold can stay, am I right, Ajax?” You retort, a mirthless grin plastered on your moonlit features.

Your friend takes a few steps forward, coming to stand next to you, shoulder playfully bumping against yours.

“I’d rather you stayed, though.” He says, a melancholy smile tugging at his lips.

You close your eyes, a sigh escaping you into the night.

“Let’s just say… I’ve had enough for tonight.” You mutter, exhaustion beginning to catch up to you.

“Anything happen?” Childe asks, ginger strands swaying around his face in the warm zephyr.

You bark a dry laugh, yet all you feel running through your veins is boiling anger.

“Well, I saw that asshole kissing someone else.” You cross your arms over your chest. “So I made it clear we’re done. I also wasted half my drink on that shithead when I spilled it on his face.” You tilt your head to the side. “Pity, that cocktail was much more worth it than him.” You add, matter of factly.

Ajax chuckles. He always liked your unapologetic remarks.

“You really did that?” He laughs. It’s nice, sincere. Then: “He didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Eh, probably not.” You shrug. “I just really want to piss him off now.”

“Oh?” Your friend’s usually dull marine eyes light up in amusement. “Any ideas?”

“Huh, not yet…” You ponder, worrying your thumbnail between your teeth.

Childe levels his gaze with yours, that impish grin meaning he was up to no good not unlike the edge of the moon above.

“Date me.” He smirks, just like that.

And at that moment, you’re too aware of the heat rising to your cheeks, of the wild pounding of your heart against your ribcage, of the constellations of freckles dotting the bridge of Ajax’s nose. “You know, just as show, to spite him.”

And perhaps it’s the sweet intoxication of your half drunk cocktail, or the way a lake of stardust seems reflected in his eyes, but you find your pinky linked with his before you have half the mind to back off.

“Deal.”

—

On hindsight, perhaps you were impulsive.

Was it really a good idea to involve your best friend in this game of spite?

Readjusting your bag on your shoulder, you walk to your first period class.

Students, some more sleepy than others mill around campus, a collage of headphones on, hands busy on screens and chit chat filling the early morning air.

“Morning, babe.” Are the first words directed at you today, followed by a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Ajax…” You whisper-shout, frowning, face warming up. “You know you just need to pretend.”

“I’m very aware of that.” He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, as his voice lowers a little more. “He’s looking, sweetheart.”

Despite your quickened heartbeat, a devilish grin makes it to your features, arms wrapping around your best friend temporarily turned “boyfriend”.

“Ajax!” You coo, sweetly. “I had missed you so much! Ah! How am I going to endure six hours of class without seeing you?”

The redhead embraces you, arms tightening around your waist, dangerously close to your hipbones. His face buries in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you, lovingly.

“Good, he just stormed off.” He murmurs, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze.

You smile brightly, luminous eyes meeting his crinkled up ones.

His hand slides into yours, pressing it reassuringly, before you two part, promising to meet afterwards.

Oddly enough, when you sit at the back of the seminar, six hours feel like an eternity.

But, like all things, your classes come to an end, eventually.

Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you leave the building.

It’s weird, this sensation, though.

You’ve been close with Childe for years, you’ve hugged countless times, slept at each other’s place just as many.

So, why now? Why did you feel all jittery and giddy at his subtle touches just earlier?

Perhaps you’re still shaken from your breakup, as much as you can’t stand your ex.

“Hey there, pretty.”

You look up from your phone to be met with the colors of oceans and sunrises, Ajax’s grinning face centimeters away from yours.

“Childe.” You bluntly greet him. It’s unfair how the early evening sun kisses his skin just right, the light dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks reminding you of the stars that soon will start decorating the sky. You clear your throat, then:

“You know we just need to look like we’re dating, right? I thought I’d made myself clear.” You don’t know if your statement is more directed at him or at yourself.

“I know,” the ginger smiles, falling in step by your side. “But we need to make it look convincing, don’t we?” He winks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re insufferable, as always.” You grumble.

And yet, despite no one really being around at the moment, you make no effort to push the man away. And you definitely don’t complain when he switches to your other side, hand lingering on the small of your back, so that you take the innermost half of the sidewalk, away from the cars.

If someone were to ask, however, no, you certainly are not leaning into Ajax’s comforting hold.

—

A few more weeks go by, with most of your free time spent with your “fake boyfriend.”

And as much as you’ve always cherished him, despite his, at times, obnoxious nature, you certainly are confused right now.

What is it you feel for him? You like these newfound moments of shared tenderness between the two, so much that you wish they weren’t fabricated sometimes… What would it be like to love someone truly? To have someone love you?

What do his lips taste like? You wonder, as you have a few more sips of your iced peach juice.

You shake your head. No, you definitely did not think that. Must be the heat, messing with your head, surely.

However, willing fantasy or not, it turns out fate had indeed planned for you to indulge in your cravings.

The door of the establishment opens, the small bell above it signaling the entrance of another customer.

“[Y/n?]” Ajax calls, from the sit across you.

You tilt your head to the side, your redhead friend’s eyes focused on something behind you.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You almost shout, the sound dying down to a whisper the moment his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

“Do you trust me?” He smirks.

“Yes, but-“

“You said yes.” Are Childe’s words before leaning in.

To say he was a good kisser would be an understatement.

His lips on yours feel like a roaring ocean, notes of spearmint and sunshine contained in the secret message in a bottle the waves of him carry. Ajax’s calloused hands cup your jaw, ruddy locks of hair tickling you when he angles his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

You wish this was real.

But would it really be a crime to play your part right now?

Your fingers tangle in his tangerine hued strands, slightly tugging at them as you bring him closer to you.

You don’t care if this is swimming against the current, if you did drown right now, you would go happy.

But because he’d be damned before he let you drown, your best friend pulls away, allowing air back into your lungs.

That’s the very best goddamn kiss you’ve ever been given.

But, alas, sometimes you think “stupid” should be Ajax’s middle name.

When you glance his way, he keeps looking at something beyond you, that shit eating smirk plastered on the lips you want to kiss again.

When you spare a peek over your shoulder, you spot him. Your ex, sitting with some girl, his face ashen as he looks in your direction.

So that’s all this was.

You should have figured, you chide yourself as you fiddle with the straw of your juice.

If you had payed attention, however, you would have noticed a pair of starry blue eyes not leaving you.

—

And after that arrives the day you realize you are screwed.

This was all just supposed to be a make believe charade, not you actually falling for your friend.

Because you can’t deny it anymore; whatever it is Ajax is to you now, it goes way past platonic.

You can’t let these feelings be known. Ever.

But how are you supposed to ignore all of his sweet gestures? His tender touches when holding your hand; the way he remembers your favorite ice cream, smoothie and coffee orders; how he brings you lunch when he ends up cooking too much for his siblings; or the way not only are you stealing his t-shirts on nights you fall asleep at each other’s rooms, but how he now drapes his hoodie over your shoulders, the night breeze uncharacteristically chilly for this time of year.

And that kiss. That goddamn kiss.

And perhaps your last breakup scarred you more than you let on; or maybe you love Ajax too much to keep up this lie with him. But before you can think twice, the words are out of your lips, glacial shards of a broken dream on a midsummer’s night:

“Ajax? Let’s stop doing this.”

Those eyes of his that sparkled in sapphire hues dim again at your statement.

He searches for your gaze, but you won’t look at him.

“Why? Something wrong?” Childe tries for his usual carefree tone, but you know better; the hurt and strained fear in the words he doesn’t speak are clear as day to you.

“Yes! I mean no! I mean…” You sigh. “I don’t think it makes sense anymore.”

In reality, what doesn’t make sense is pretending this relationship of yours is just for show. But you can’t let him know that.

“Got cold feet?” Your friend, or whatever he is now, asks, oceanic gaze glazed over, not a single star reflected in it when he stares skyward.

‘If only you could know’. Is the sentence you don’t let out through bitten lips.

Instead you offer:

“I don’t think this makes sense anymore.” Unconsciously, you adjust his hoodie a little tighter around your figure. “I just- I think I’ve gotten the revenge I wanted. I… I don’t know, I just want to hang out with you again, but honestly, not like this, not for an audience…”

You stop walking, standing a few paces before him.

“We don’t have to do any of this for the public, you know.” Your friend, crush, partner in crime? assures, shortening the distance between you with his long strides.

“But we do.” You sadly whisper, averting your eyes to the side. You can feel wetness pooling on them. Great, just what you needed. “I… I don’t want more fabricated romantic moments, I’ve had enough of love that was never anything to begin with before.” You humorlessly add. “I just, I want the next time I kiss someone or hold their hand… I want it to be real, for it to mean something… and I can’t keep stealing moments like these from you either, Childe.”

Salty droplets start to dye the grey pavement as you keep your eyes glued to it. Everything feels so complicated, so messy…

“I know this was your idea but… I can’t keep-“

“What makes you think it wasn’t real?” Familiar calloused fingers caress your cheeks, gathering the starless wetness sliding down them. “What makes you think you were stealing these moments from me?” Strong arms envelop you, akin to the early morning rays dancing over gentle waves lapping at the seashore. “It was my idea, right? You said it yourself. Why do you think that was?”

“I don’t know!” You sob into his chest. “I guess you were looking for fun, or you wanted to help me…” You wonder, voice a breath away from becoming fragments of a shattered snowglobe.

Ajax chuckles, soft. His hold on you tightens a little. Then:

“You know, sometimes you can be so dumb, [Y/n].” He utters, tone devoid of his usual teasing. “It was my plan, on that you are right.” His hands rest on your shoulders, as he pulls away to look at you. “But I guess now would be a good time to tell you why.” He shifts his weight on his feet, an unusual dusting of pink creeping up his neck caught by the streetlights. “Truth is, I was scared to, well, ask you out normally, I was scared of you saying no. When you started dating him, I hated him, but I hated myself more, for not having been able to prevent it. You looked unhappy.” He shoves his hands in his pants’ pockets. “So I don’t know, I figured maybe if we pretended, we’d keep it up for a while, or maybe if I was lucky, you’d really fall for me… kinda dense, right?”

You sniff, a smile tugging at your lips despite your cries.

“Yeah, definitely stupid.” You laugh softly, through the tears. “But effective.” You admit, glossy eyes searching for the molten northern stars in his stare.

“Wait, so you actually fell-?”

“Ajax. Kiss me. For real this time.” You plead, clutching the front of his baby blue t-shirt, urging him closer to you.

“What makes you think it wasn’t for real the first time?” He smirks, as his lips link with yours for the second time.

Your arms loop around his neck, his hands digging on the flesh of your lower waist, his palms a searing wave under your shirt. Childe’s kiss tastes of fireworks reflected over a still ocean, the quiet of the minutes before midnight in stark contradiction to the wild drumming of your infatuated heart. You stand on your tiptoes, desperately meeting his tidal wave at its zenith, the caress of the blossoming moon above and Ajax’s tongue swiping over your swollen lips sending shivers down your spine.

The clock strikes twelve, and a beeping sound interrupts the reverie.

Grumbling, you fish your phone out of your borrowed jacket’s pocket.

“00:00

Thursday, July 20th.

Ajax’s bday !! <3”

Your lit up screen reads.

You both let out a chuckle.

“Hey, Childe?” You call him. “Make a wish.”

“I don’t need to.” Constellations are reflected in his azure gaze, lovestruck with images of you dancing amongst them, the smile on his face dopey and entranced.

“Let me give you another present, then.” You tell him, pulling him close again. “Happy birthday, Ajax.” You breathe, as his hands hook under your thighs and your lips crash together again, no onlookers but the moon and stars this time.

[unnoticed-poison]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴅᴀʀᴋ! ᴍᴀɴʜᴡᴀ/ᴍᴀɴʜᴜᴀ ᴠᴀʀɪᴏᴜꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏 】

【 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖗 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕 】

【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟏 】

【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟐 】

Chapter 3 to 10 are posted on AO3, Wattpad and Quotev :3

Read the trailer chapter before reading this one if you haven't (it's a mix between the story summary and a chap so you need to read it before this one)

You just stared at the blue screen with a look of pure confusion and horror, not quite understanding the words the screen just said. "What?" you asked once again, still not fully comprehending the situation." run that by me again?"

You questioned while rubbing your temples as if to help you wake up from some crazy dream.

The system, whose name is Jin Xian, looked at you nervously before explaining once more.

You took a deep breath and tried not to lose it."So what you're saying is, there's a bug that's currently hiding in all the manhwas and novels I read for the last few years now and it's probably aiming to kill them all for some unknown reason?"

It hesitates before nodding slowly, "Yeah.. I guess you could put it that way"

"...And you want me to take care of it right?"

"...Y...Yes." It said awkwardly.

"And can I ask why you or whoever you work for haven't done anything about it until now?"

"We tried.." the system answered sadly, "But we just couldn't detect its exact location or even track down where it originally came from. There wasn't anything to pinpoint exactly. But then the people in charge decided that the best course of action was to let us deal with the situation ourselves while they search for another solution, so they decided to send the best world-hoppers to those worlds to try and stop it from spreading, those people are considered the best of the best, all their worlds missions were successful so far with a SSS ranking, of course only the higher ranking systems get those hosts while we low ranking ones have to look for temporary hosts with zero experience." it paused for a moment, before continuing, "So here we are"

It pouted as it said that sentence."Why do I always get stuck with the lowest rank?"

You raised an eyebrow at it." Because you're an idiot, you couldn't even get the right person to be your host, a simple task that should have been easy enough for systems of all rankings and you still failed, no wonder your rank is so low." you snapped in annoyance.

"...That... might be a tad harsh, miss..." it admitted sheepishly. it's been called a lot worse, especially recently, but it still hurt. it might be a robot but it has feelings ok?!

"So now that everything is clear, we need to start moving now! The more time we waste, the faster the bug will spread."

It was silent for a moment before you gave the cheerful Xian a small smile.

"No."

You stated with finality.

"...what?" the system replied in confusion." What do you mean no?"

"Look, as much as I want to meet the characters and go through the quests to get to the bug's location I can't, I have a life here and I'm guessing this mission of yours is gonna be pretty dangerous right?" you gave it a stern stare."So I'm sorry, but I like being alive and I'm not gonna risk it for some fantasy."

"But... but mis-" it attempted to explain, desperate to convince you, "You can't just-"it tried to speak, only to be cut off.

"This mission needs someone intelligent and dedicated, and I assure you I'm neither of these things." You continued to reason, ignoring the obvious pleading tone of your companion. You chuckled, giving the poor thing a comforting smile before continuing."tell you what, I'll pretend that all that happened today was a terrific fever dream and you'll go and look for an actual host that suits you, how about that?"

"But-!"

"Goodbye~! Have a good hunt!" you said as you grabbed it and throw it out the window and closed it shut."I wish you luck!" the room fell into silence again, only the whirring sound of the air conditioning filling the room.

You sighed in relief." Finally." you said, ready to forget the shit that just happened.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, my dear host." a cold voice sounded from behind you as a chill run down your spine.

'Fuck.'

Didn't expect to actually write a chapter after the trailer one but oh well hope you like it 🌻

I posted this on Wattpad too and might post it on AO3 as well.