#so it's a matter of if we trust them to fix it. And well--do you?

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Part 2, chapter 6- eviction notice

Series masterlist

Warnings- This one’s a lot more jj centered, but some rafe and reader moments (: two exes still pining for each other Is my favorite

Summary: you’re finally back home, the pogues missed you and Rafe can’t get over you

A knock on the door interrupted your nightly routine, you sighed, standing up and opening the door.

“Hi.” You said, a little shocked at Rafe’s appearance this late.

“Okay, so…” he pushed past you, sitting down on the bed, next to you. “we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“You mean… back to Kildare?” You asked him.

He nodded. “I- I already asked if you could use a phone, but, my dad doesn’t really trust you right now. But… I can…” he sighed. “I can see if I can try and email one of them or something.“

You nodded at him. He stood up, going to the door before you called his name.

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you.

“Thank you.”

A million thoughts ran through his mind as he walked back home. When he got there, he saw yellow tape on the door, along with an eviction notice. Going up with furrowed eyebrows, he held back tears.

“What?” He mumbled, confused. You told him that you were paying for it, that you were just staying at Ricky’s because you couldn’t bear to be at the house. Not because you lost it.

He looked on the back when he saw some marker bleed through, you had written on it.

“I’m sorry, JJ.” You scrawled out on it, he saw some tear stains on the paper as well. With a small sigh, tears threatening to spill, he entered through the window, grabbing the pills from the counter, sitting on the couch, and throwing them.

He ran his hands over his face, beginning to cry into them while taking a sip of the beer his dad had left.

He was outside, fixing his bike with Kiara came up behind.

“Eviction notice. For like, non payment or whatever. My sister didn’t even tell me.” He stood up, facing her now. He sighed, looking back at the house.

“Doesn’t matter. This place sucks anyway. Great to be back in the outer banks, right?”

“So get this. I uh, had an email waiting for me when I got home. John B actually found Big John. He’s alive..”

JJ paused, turning his head to Kiara now.

“Seriously?”

Kiara nodded. “Yeah. He’s at the Chateau.”

JJ smiled, standing up again. “Damn.”

“Yeah, he thinks we’re close to the same treasure Singh was talking about.”

JJ nodded, sniffling as he grabbed a towel.

“Hey, look. My parents didn’t even wanna let me out of the house. But I told them I had to come check on you.”

“Well, it’s not me you have to worry about.” He exhaled.

“JayJ, what’s up? Is it something Pope said? I know he’s not all obsessed about what happened between me and him. We’re both past that, but something’s bugging you. And it’s not just your sister.”

“It was just weird, what almost happened on the boat with us. It was just weird.” He said, inhaling.

“Yeah, Yeah, I mean it was… it was weird for me too, but… not bad weird.”

“No. Not bad weird.” He came closer to her, the both of them staring at each other.

“What are we doing?” He asked, heart picking up. “What are we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, nah.” He repeated, moving his face away from hers, walking away. “We shouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah..”

“We shouldn’t!”

“If you say so.”

“I mean, it would like all blow up anyway. You know? Like…” he panted. “Look at you. You got your new threads on, look at me what do I got? This?” He pointed to the house. “This piece of shit?!” He picked up a rock, throwing it at the house.

“Getting kicked out of this place in like a week anyways. Shit, I don’t got parents right now, or my sister. Why would you care? Why would you care? I’m just some loser that- that-“ he stuttered.

“jj…”

“You don’t do care.”

“I do-“

“No, you don’t!”

“I do care!” She argued.

“No, you got parents that live in figure 8, you know? You know… you…”

“That’s not my fault.”

“That’s your future. You got that.” He walked away again, his hands on the back of his head.

“Look if you need us, we’re gonna help you. I’m… I’ll help.”

“It’s that right there! Okay? Like- it’s so easy for you to say that. You know why? Because you’re a kook. You’re a kook, Kiara!”

She nodded, looking down. “Yeah, I’m a kook. I was such a kook when I was living in a cave with you for a month. Soaking in the kook life.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. God!” He threw on his hat, getting on his bike, and starting the engine.

“JayJ, don’t leave.”

He didn’t listen, just ran away. The only thing he knew how to do.

On the dock, he paced, staring out, even breaking it and throwing things down, kicking and throwing shit.

He paused, looking over you sleeping for a moment. You looked peaceful. He missed this. He would do anything if it meant he could have you so peaceful like that with him again.

It would take time, though. Even Rafe knew that.

“Rise and shine,” Rafe spoke, hitting your shoulder to wake you up.

You mumbled something incoherently, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up with a yawn.

When you opened your eyes, you had a small smile at the sight of the island. Finally.

His eyes were set on you, while you looked out at the island.

When you got to Tannyhill, you helped Rafe with the boat and went up the dock.

Rafe lead you to to the front, both of you standing in front of each other now.

“Thanks, again.” You told him, staring into his baby blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off.

“You know, Rafe, you could be a really good man when you try.” You told him when you began to walk away.

He rolled his eyes, a small smile gracing his features when you turned. “Whatever.”

But when you left, you spotted Sarah leaving as well.

“Sarah?” You questioned, making her turn to you.

She said your name, her tone confused and shocked.

“Holy shit, y/n?!” Kiara practically shouted when you came up on the boat with Sarah. You smiled at her, and she came up and embraced you.

“Hey, Kie.” You said with a laugh,

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to push you off-“

“It’s fine. I know.” You shrugged.

“I went to go grab some clothes and a phone, and I found her, but…”

“Rafe is back.” You finished her sentence.”And the cross is coming back. To Wilmington tomorrow night. I heard him on the phone yesterday.”

“And I heard him not that long ago.”

“What?” She looked at Sarah and back at you.

“I was gonna tell Pope at the Chateau.”

“He can’t. He’s on lockdown.”

“Okay, um… then.. I’ll hit up Pope, and then maybe you go to the Chateau and tell John B. And JJ?”

Kiara swallowed at that.

“Wait, is he.. at the chateau?” You asked them.

Kiara shrugged. “I don’t know. He blew up on me earlier. He… uh.. was at the house.”

“Shit..” you murmured.

JJ pulled up to the Chateau, whistling for John B. You stood up, Kiara was inside, not wanting to intrude on you two.

“JJ.” You spoke quietly.

He turned around at the sound of your voice. He whispered your name, repeating it louder now as he came up to you.

He wrapped his arms around you, tears falling down his face.

“Holy shit. You’re- you’re-“

“Yeah.” You laughed, tears falling down your own face now.

“You didn’t tell me we got evicted. I would- I would have helped..” he told you, looking at your face now.

“I didn’t want you to. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You shook your head feverishly. “I’m saving up for a better house, now.”

He smiled and shook his head again.

“I missed you so much, dude.” He said, pulling you in for another hug.

Kiara came out, waiting. He turned to Kiara now, clearing his throat and wiping his tears.

“Is uh… John B not here?” He asked with a sigh.

“Nope.”

Kiara cleared her throat, cutting through the awkward silence.

“What’s up?”

“Uh, Rafes what’s up.” Kiara spoke.

“He’s back on the island, JJ.” You continued her sentence. “He said he’s staying for a little, for business or some shit.”

“Spectacular.” He said sarcastically.

“It’s not just that. I overheard him saying the cross is coming into Wilmington tomorrow. Wards trying to sell it.” You said.

“Great. Does Pope know?”

“Yeah. Sarah went to tell him. He’s locked down.” Kiara told him. “And I guess John B and his dad went and got the Twinkie. They’re off to God knows where.” Kiara handed him the envelope.

“Yeah, of course. Just when we need them.” He threw his hands up, staring out into the water.

“Wait, hold on though.” He stopped, turning to you both now. “We know where the cross is gonna be. That means it’s still on the field. Okay, alright. So we can come in and swoop, we’re still in this. We gotta get everybody together, then we’ll come up with a plan. Get our asses to Wilmington.”

Kiara looked at you. You urged her as he walked away.

“Hey, hey, JJ, before we can formulate some crazy plan, can we talk?” Kiara spoke, catching up to him.

JJ took a deep breath, talking was never really his thing.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can talk.”

“Something almost happened. Between us on the boat.”

“Mmm-hmm..”

“And I know that’s got to freak you out. It caught me off guard too. And I know, your whole life, I know you freak when people get close, and I get it. I don’t blame you.”

He looked away, because he knew she was right.

“Just please don’t ever say that I don’t care about you. And you called me a kook…”

“Okay, well, hold on-“ he started.

“Which is lame.”

“I know. That was lame..”

“It was uncalled for. Yeah, it’s a low blow.”

“All right, Kie. Look, Kie,” he put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re right. I flipped. You know how I be. Just uh.. just… look. We should just… just call it a truce. Just.. etch a sketch it. Clean slate. Truce?”

“Truce.” She held her hand out.

“So, how we gonna jack this cross?” You came up to them suddenly, both of them jumping at you.

“Jesus! You just got back and you’re already trying to give me a heart attack?”

don’t like this chapter too much ugh

Tag list:

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023

[neo-nomatrix]

Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

word count: 851

summary: Luke castellan and the daughter of apollos love story

a/n: “remember who the enemy is” IM TRYING

Luke Castellan held your heart since the day you met, and you held his.

You arrived at camp a few months after Luke. You were one of the lucky ones, claimed within an hour of being there. Your godly father is Apollo, god of poetry, the sun, music, narcissism, idiocy, stupidity, all that. You had assumed the gods would act superior to all, no matter if they were or weren’t. But Apollo was on a completely different level. You didn’t know why he had taken such a liking to you.

“You remind him of himself,” Your half sister, Kayla, had told you, “an archer who never misses, healer who fixes every wound, gifted singer, and somehow picked up the lyre in a day. And yet, you still ask why Apollo loves you the most?”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you twirl the golden arrow he gifted you.

“y’know, that hermes boy has been staring since the moment you stepped foot here,” she smiles, nodding to the tan boy sitting on a picnic table.

“Great, more attention,” you keep your sights on the boy, lucas? Luca, maybe?

“His name’s luke castellan,” kayla says, ah luke, that’s it.

“He’s handsome,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t trust those Hermes boys, all they do is lie,” Kayla leans back and rolls her eyes.

“It’s a good thing I play the lyre.”

——————

“You’ve got a great shot,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You’ve been at the range for around an hour, it’s 4:30, you always practice when no one else is around.

“The whole reason why I come out here this early is so i can be alone,” sure, it sounds mean but you swear you’re not trying to be.

“Sorry, once I see you it’s hard to look away,” you’re not looking at him but you can tell me has the biggest smirk on his face.

“Funny,” you tell him bluntly.

You set down your bow, keeping the arrow in your hand, and sit on the nearby grass. He lays down beside you, you follow his lead and put your hands behind your head.

“That arrow, it’s like it’s made of the sun,” He says amazed.

“A gift from dear old dad. No matter how far I shoot it’ll always come back. Supposed to be a sign of his love or something. But I think he just constantly wants me to be annoyed by him,” you inform him possibly too much.

“Most people would be grateful if their godly parent cares that much,” he says.

“It’s different with Apollo, there is no such thing as true altruism with him,” you bite your inner lip.

“I get that, I’m just tryna say- Hermes never showed up for me, and I'd kill to just have him tell me he cares,” His eyes furrow.

“Guess we both have different priorities,” you smile.

“Opposites work best don’t they?” He smiles back.

“Isn’t it opposites attract?” You wonder.

“Hey, your words, not mine,” he laughs.

“That one’s Orion,” You point up at the constellation.

“He was always my favorite,” he adds.

“Mine has always been Cassiopeia, but you can never see her over here,” You look back up at the sky.

“That one’s Taurus, and then Sirius below, and Gemini above,” you point each of them out.

Even though he hums in acknowledgment his eyes are locked on you.

“You’re staring, again” You mention.

“I told you I can’t help it, especially when you glow like that,” he reaches out and touches your face.

You reach out and grab his hand, running your fingers against his slender digits.

“I’d like to be a constellation when I die, maybe my father will fulfill that wish,” you say to him.

“That’ll be my last wish too, we can lay in the stars together.”

——————

It’s been a day since Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-blood. It just so happens to be your favorite day of the year, capture the flag. You have led the archers on the blue team for years, you’d say you’re doing well for what you’re given. Besides your siblings in Apollo the rest of the kids weren’t as gifted in archery.

As the first conch shell blew you were preparing for your mock-battle. Annabeth in charge of the plan and Percy, Luke with company, and you with the archers. You knew you could, no- would win. The archers took the trees, helping stray company from the skies.

“Today feels like a winning kind of day?” Annabeth asks luke.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” He smiles.

“Luke!” You pull him aside for a moment.

You cup his face the best you can through his armor. “You don’t get hurt okay? I don’t feel like healing anymore wounds from you. Understand?”

“Oh but I love to see you healing” he holds your hand and smirks

“Archers! Move out!” You call your team, eyes still locked with his, smiling.

“so… you and her?” Percy asks the taller boy.

“how could I not? She's perfect. I mean, I genuinely believe I could live without the sun if I just had her.”

And maybe, just maybe, he could.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google’s enshittification memos

[Note, 9 October 2023: Google disputes the veracity of this claim, but has declined to provide the exhibits and testimony to support its claims. Read more about this here.]

When I think about how the old, good internet turned into the enshitternet, I imagine a series of small compromises, each seemingly reasonable at the time, each contributing to a cultural norm of making good things worse, and worse, and worse.

Think about Unity President Marc Whitten's nonpology for his company's disastrous rug-pull, in which they declared that everyone who had paid good money to use their tool to make a game would have to keep paying, every time someone downloaded that game:

The most fundamental thing that we’re trying to do is we’re building a sustainable business for Unity. And for us, that means that we do need to have a model that includes some sort of balancing change, including shared success.

https://www.wired.com/story/unity-walks-back-policies-lost-trust/

"Shared success" is code for, "If you use our tool to make money, we should make money too." This is bullshit. It's like saying, "We just want to find a way to share the success of the painters who use our brushes, so every time you sell a painting, we want to tax that sale." Or "Every time you sell a house, the company that made the hammer gets to wet its beak."

And note that they're not talking about shared risk here – no one at Unity is saying, "If you try to make a game with our tools and you lose a million bucks, we're on the hook for ten percent of your losses." This isn't partnership, it's extortion.

How did a company like Unity – which became a market leader by making a tool that understood the needs of game developers and filled them – turn into a protection racket? One bad decision at a time. One rationalization and then another. Slowly, and then all at once.

When I think about this enshittification curve, I often think of Google, a company that had its users' backs for years, which created a genuinely innovative search engine that worked so well it seemed like *magic, a company whose employees often had their pick of jobs, but chose the "don't be evil" gig because that mattered to them.

People make fun of that "don't be evil" motto, but if your key employees took the gig because they didn't want to be evil, and then you ask them to be evil, they might just quit. Hell, they might make a stink on the way out the door, too:

https://theintercept.com/2018/09/13/google-china-search-engine-employee-resigns/

Google is a company whose founders started out by publishing a scientific paper describing their search methodology, in which they said, "Oh, and by the way, ads will inevitably turn your search engine into a pile of shit, so we're gonna stay the fuck away from them":

http://infolab.stanford.edu/pub/papers/google.pdf

Those same founders retained a controlling interest in the company after it went IPO, explaining to investors that they were going to run the business without having their elbows jostled by shortsighted Wall Street assholes, so they could keep it from turning into a pile of shit:

https://abc.xyz/investor/founders-letters/ipo-letter/

And yet, it's turned into a pile of shit. Google search is so bad you might as well ask Jeeves. The company's big plan to fix it? Replace links to webpages with florid paragraphs of chatbot nonsense filled with a supremely confident lies:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

How did the company get this bad? In part, this is the "curse of bigness." The company can't grow by attracting new users. When you have 90%+ of the market, there are no new customers to sign up. Hypothetically, they could grow by going into new lines of business, but Google is incapable of making a successful product in-house and also kills most of the products it buys from other, more innovative companies:

https://killedbygoogle.com/

Theoretically, the company could pursue new lines of business in-house, and indeed, the current leaders of companies like Amazon, Microsoft and Apple are all execs who figured out how to get the whole company to do something new, and were elevated to the CEO's office, making each one a billionaire and sealing their place in history.

It is for this very reason that any exec at a large firm who tries to make a business-wide improvement gets immediately and repeatedly knifed by all their colleagues, who correctly reason that if someone else becomes CEO, then they won't become CEO. Machiavelli was an optimist:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

With no growth from new customers, and no growth from new businesses, "growth" has to come from squeezing workers (say, laying off 12,000 engineers after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years), or business customers (say, by colluding with Facebook to rig the ad market with the Jedi Blue conspiracy), or end-users.

Now, in theory, we might never know exactly what led to the enshittification of Google. In theory, all of compromises, debates and plots could be lost to history. But tech is not an oral culture, it's a written one, and techies write everything down and nothing is ever truly deleted.

Time and again, Big Tech tells on itself. Think of FTX's main conspirators all hanging out in a group chat called "Wirefraud." Amazon naming its program targeting weak, small publishers the "Gazelle Project" ("approach these small publishers the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”). Amazon documenting the fact that users were unknowingly signing up for Prime and getting pissed; then figuring out how to reduce accidental signups, then deciding not to do it because it liked the money too much. Think of Zuck emailing his CFO in the middle of the night to defend his outsized offer to buy Instagram on the basis that users like Insta better and Facebook couldn't compete with them on quality.

It's like every Big Tech schemer has a folder on their desktop called "Mens Rea" filled with files like "Copy_of_Premeditated_Murder.docx":

https://doctorow.medium.com/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself-f7f0eb6d215a?sk=351f8a54ab8e02d7340620e5eec5024d

Right now, Google's on trial for its sins against antitrust law. It's a hard case to make. To secure a win, the prosecutors at the DoJ Antitrust Division are going to have to prove what was going on in Google execs' minds when the took the actions that led to the company's dominance. They're going to have to show that the company deliberately undertook to harm its users and customers.

Of course, it helps that Google put it all in writing.

Last week, there was a huge kerfuffile over the DoJ's practice of posting its exhibits from the trial to a website each night. This is a totally normal thing to do – a practice that dates back to the Microsoft antitrust trial. But Google pitched a tantrum over this and said that the docs the DoJ were posting would be turned into "clickbait." Which is another way of saying, "the public would find these documents very interesting, and they would be damning to us and our case":

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/secrecy-is-systemic

After initially deferring to Google, Judge Amit Mehta finally gave the Justice Department the greenlight to post the document. It's up. It's wild:

https://www.justice.gov/d9/2023-09/416692.pdf

The document is described as "notes for a course on communication" that Google VP for Finance Michael Roszak prepared. Roszak says he can't remember whether he ever gave the presentation, but insists that the remit for the course required him to tell students "things I didn't believe," and that's why the document is "full of hyperbole and exaggeration."

OK.

But here's what the document says: "search advertising is one of the world's greatest business models ever created…illicit businesses (cigarettes or drugs) could rival these economics…[W]e can mostly ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers, ad formats and sales."

It goes on to say that this might be changing, and proposes a way to balance the interests of the search and ads teams, which are at odds, with search worrying that ads are pushing them to produce "unnatural search experiences to chase revenue."

"Unnatural search experiences to chase revenue" is a thinly veiled euphemism for the prophetic warnings in that 1998 Pagerank paper: "The goals of the advertising business model do not always correspond to providing quality search to users." Or, more plainly, "ads will turn our search engine into a pile of shit."

And, as Roszak writes, Google is "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand." That is, the company has become so dominant and cemented its position so thoroughly as the default search engine across every platforms and system that even if it makes its search terrible to goose revenues, users won't leave. As Lily Tomlin put it on SNL: "We don't have to care, we're the phone company."

In the enshittification cycle, companies first lure in users with surpluses – like providing the best search results rather than the most profitable ones – with an eye to locking them in. In Google's case, that lock-in has multiple facets, but the big one is spending billions of dollars – enough to buy a whole Twitter, every single year – to be the default search everywhere.

Google doesn't buy its way to dominance because it has the very best search results and it wants to shield you from inferior competitors. The economically rational case for buying default position is that preventing competition is more profitable than succeeding by outperforming competitors. The best reason to buy the default everywhere is that it lets you lower quality without losing business. You can "ignore the demand side, and only focus on advertisers."

For a lot of people, the analysis stops here. "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product." Google locks in users and sells them to advertisers, who are their co-conspirators in a scheme to screw the rest of us.

But that's not right. For one thing, paying for a product doesn't mean you won't be the product. Apple charges a thousand bucks for an iPhone and then nonconsensually spies on every iOS user in order to target ads to them (and lies about it):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

John Deere charges six figures for its tractors, then runs a grift that blocks farmers from fixing their own machines, and then uses their control over repair to silence farmers who complain about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

Fair treatment from a corporation isn't a loyalty program that you earn by through sufficient spending. Companies that can sell you out, will sell you out, and then cry victim, insisting that they were only doing their fiduciary duty for their sacred shareholders. Companies are disciplined by fear of competition, regulation or – in the case of tech platforms – customers seizing the means of computation and installing ad-blockers, alternative clients, multiprotocol readers, etc:

https://doctorow.medium.com/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse-3cc01e7e4604?sk=85b3f5f7d051804521c3411711f0b554

Which is where the next stage of enshittification comes in: when the platform withdraws the surplus it had allocated to lure in – and then lock in – business customers (like advertisers) and reallocate it to the platform's shareholders.

For Google, there are several rackets that let it screw over advertisers as well as searchers (the advertisers are paying for the product, and they're also the product). Some of those rackets are well-known, like Jedi Blue, the market-rigging conspiracy that Google and Facebook colluded on:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

But thanks to the antitrust trial, we're learning about more of these. Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – was in the courtroom last week when evidence was presented on Google execs' panic over a decline in "ad generating searches" and the sleazy gimmick they came up with to address it: manipulating the "semantic matching" on user queries:

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

When you send a query to Google, it expands that query with terms that are similar – for example, if you search on "Weds" it might also search for "Wednesday." In the slides shown in the Google trial, we learned about another kind of semantic matching that Google performed, this one intended to turn your search results into "a twisted shopping mall you can’t escape."

Here's how that worked: when you ran a query like "children's clothing," Google secretly appended the brand name of a kids' clothing manufacturer to the query. This, in turn, triggered a ton of ads – because rival brands will have bought ads against their competitors' name (like Pepsi buying ads that are shown over queries for Coke).

Here we see surpluses being taken away from both end-users and business customers – that is, searchers and advertisers. For searchers, it doesn't matter how much you refine your query, you're still going to get crummy search results because there's an unkillable, hidden search term stuck to your query, like a piece of shit that Google keeps sticking to the sole of your shoe.

But for advertisers, this is also a scam. They're paying to be matched to users who search on a brand name, and you didn't search on that brand name. It's especially bad for the company whose name has been appended to your search, because Google has a protection racket where the company that matches your search has to pay extra in order to show up overtop of rivals who are worse matches. Both the matching company and those rivals have given Google a credit-card that Google gets to bill every time a user searches on the company's name, and Google is just running fraudulent charges through those cards.

And, of course, Google put this in writing. I mean, of course they did. As we learned from the documentary The Incredibles, supervillains can't stop themselves from monologuing, and in big, sprawling monopolists, these monologues have to transmitted electronically – and often indelibly – to far-flung co-cabalists.

As Gray points out, this is an incredibly blunt enshittification technique: "it hadn’t even occurred to me that Google just flat out deletes queries and replaces them with ones that monetize better." We don't know how long Google did this for or how frequently this bait-and-switch was deployed.

But if this is a blunt way of Google smashing its fist down on the scales that balance search quality against ad revenues, there's plenty of subtler ways the company could sneak a thumb on there. A Google exec at the trial rhapsodized about his company's "contract with the user" to deliver an "honest results policy," but given how bad Google search is these days, we're left to either believe he's lying or that Google sucks at search.

The paper trail offers a tantalizing look at how a company went from doing something that was so good it felt like a magic trick to being "able to ignore one of the fundamental laws of economics…supply and demand," able to "ignore the demand side…(users and queries) and only focus on the supply side of advertisers."

What's more, this is a system where everyone loses (except for Google): this isn't a grift run by Google and advertisers on users – it's a grift Google runs on everyone.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[auras-moonstone]

how you get the girl — ethan landry

word count: 3,654

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: because of ethan’s reputation as a man-whore, y/n doesn’t believe he wants a serious relationship with her. so, ethan and chad make a list so that he can get the girl.

warnings: fluff.

author’s note: i’ve been reading lots of hockey rom-coms, so i needed to write about it. i’m obsessed with ethan as a hockey player😫

ETHAN DIDN’T KNOW HOW BADLY HIS ACTIONS WOULD COME BACK IN THE FUTURE TO BITE HIM IN THE ASS. Being captain of the Blackmore hockey team and certified pretty boy, girls were practically—and quite literally sometimes—throwing themselves at him, and he would lie if he said he didn’t love the attention. It would be easier and shorter to name the girls he hadn’t hooked up with than naming the ones he had. That gained him the reputation of being a playboy, and he didn’t mind being called that, to be completely honest. Or at least, he didn’t until Y/N came into his life.

She was Tara’s best friend, and since said girl started dating Ethan’s best friend, Chad, the four of them began spending lots of time together. At first, the boy flirted with Y/N because hitting on attractive girls was like second nature to him, but then he got to know her better and the unexpected thing happened—Ethan was swept off his feet. But his reputation was his karma, and Y/N didn’t think he was being serious with her. She would laugh and brush it off because no matter how gorgeous Ethan was, playboys weren’t Y/N’s type, so she would decline every attempt of him to make her go out with him.

“Why not? Just one date” Ethan said on his fifth attempt of the day. They were on the Blackmore hockey rink, and instead of using his break to drink water and rest, Ethan went to talk to Y/N.

“Exactly. You want just one date, get me inside your bed and tomorrow you’ll move onto some other girl. I really like you” she said, and before he could smirk in victory she added. “But why ruin the friendship we have for sex? Besides, one night stands aren’t my cup of tea.”

“Then let’s make it an every day thing” Ethan said.

“Nice try, Eth. We know you don’t do repeats” she stated.

“I could!” he argued. “And besides, I’m not asking for sex—I mean, at the end of the date, if you want to, I’m not gonna reject the offer—, I’m done with hook ups, I want something more.”

Y/N laughed “Okay, try it, but not with me. I’m sorry, Eth”

The girl stood up and made her way towards the exit of the rink, leaving a disappointed Ethan behind. She would lie if she said she didn’t want to try things with him, but the truth also was that she didn’t trust him when it came to relationships and she didn’t want to get her heart broken by him.

Chad got off the ice to find his best friend sitting on the bleachers, gaze fixed on the stairs, looking like a sad kicked puppy. It’s not a sight seen often, Ethan was usually an over-energetic puppy, always happy and with a smile on his face.

“Hey, man. What’s wrong?”

“Y/N rejected me.” Ethan played with his hockey stick, not wanting to meet his best friend’s eyes.

“I’ve never seen you like this after a rejection” Chad frowned.

“Well, not to brag, but it doesn’t usually happen.” he said, making Chad chuckle. “But it’s different this time. Y/N is not someone I want for one night, or for something casual. I want everything with her.”

“Wow” Chad took a breath, shocked by the confession. “And she said no?”

“She says she doesn’t want to ruin our friendship” Ethan said.

Chad scoffed “Why would that happen?”

“She doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m not boyfriend material. I really am serious about her, Chad. I swear. I would never hurt her. I wish she could read my mind”

“Don’t you dare give up, then. Words aren’t enough, show her you really like her”

“How?”

Chad smirked. “Grab a pen and a napkin, we are going to make a list so you can get the girl.”

one: get her favourite coffee

ETHAN WOKE UP A BIT EARLIER THE FOLLOWING DAY TO GO TO Y/N’S FAVOURITE COFFEE SHOP AND GET HER ORDER. He convinced Tara to drag Y/N straight to class, not letting her get the coffee, and to text him once they were in the classroom. Once he got the text, Ethan entered the class, all eyes on him, and set the cup in front of Y/N with an adorable grin.

“Good morning. You look gorgeous as always” he kissed her cheek and simply left the room.

Y/N stared at the drink completely astonished, ignoring the glares coming from the female population and the smirk her best friend was giving her. There was something scribbled with black sharpie—it was simple, but it made her stomach combust. Have a great day, beautiful! Love, Ethan. And three hearts poorly made—which she thought was utterly adorable—next to his name.

“You got him in a leash” Tara laughed.

“Don’t be silly, we know what he wants” Y/N brushed it off.

“Come on, Ethan doesn’t do romantic stuff for anyone, not even to get laid.”

“It’s just one coffee, Tara. Let’s not be dramatic.”

But Tara knew, and Y/N too, that the little gesture was a lot when it came to Ethan Landry. Yet, a coffee cup wasn’t enough to gain the girl’s trust.

two: show her you’re interested in her interests

WHAT IS THE THING Y/N ENJOYED THE MOST? EASY: BOOKS. Ethan knew exactly which one he should start with. In fact, he had bought it the first time Y/N mentioned it. He didn’t know what it was about, but he was sure it was a rom-com that referenced other rom-com movies.

“Ethan!” Chad said in a loud voice, startling his friend. Ethan looked up to find his best friend, Tara and Y/N staring at him. The latter had her mouth wide open.

“What?” he asked absentmindedly. He had been so immersed in the book he hadn’t heard them arrive.

“We called your name countless times, man.” Chad laughed.

“Sorry” Ethan closed the book and looked at Y/N. “Um, I may have a man-crush on Wes Bennett.”

Y/N chuckled, sitting in front of him and ignoring the way her heart was beating rapidly. She wanted to take a picture of Ethan with the book and set it as her lock screen “Welcome to the club.”

“I can’t stand it anymore, I need them to kiss. I need Wes to get the girl” he groaned.

A grin took over her features “Which part are you at?”

“They are going to hang out at Michael’s house” Ethan replied, which made her smile wider. “What’s that smile for? Oh god, what is going to happen?”

“I’m not going to spoil it! Just want to say… buckle up”

“You can’t say that! I can’t continue reading until tomorrow, I have a test!” Ethan panicked.

“Look at you, invested in a rom-com” Chad bumped his shoulder.

“I just wanted to see if it lived up to Y/N’s hype” Ethan said, making her turn into a blushing mess. “It does.”

“You aren’t even finished” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Did you know there’s a sequel coming? And its playlist isn’t very optimistic”

“What?! You just ruined my day. I don’t want to read it anymore” he crossed his arms.

Wanting to mess with him, Tara grabbed the book. “So you wouldn’t mind if I-“ she stopped talking when the boy took the book from her hands.

“Yes, I would mind”

“Wait, are you annotating it?” Y/N said when she saw the colourful post-its.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. Anyways, I have to go to class, see you later at practice?”

“See you” Chad said. Before leaving, Ethan kissed Y/N’s forehead.

“What is going on with him?” Y/N asked.

“Showing you he’s serious about you. What are you waiting for, Y/N/N? I thought you liked him” Chad said.

“I do, a lot. But I’m not sure I’m really what he wants. What if he’s just interested because I’m the only girl who has rejected him? What if I finally say yes and then that interest is gone? How am I supposed to recover from that?”

“Y/N…”

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to call him mine, Chad. Trust me. But being just another girl on his list would kill me. I don’t want to lose him, okay? I don’t know if I’m willing to risk our friendship.”

three: woo her with your hockey skills.

WHEN PRACTICE WAS OVER AND CHAD AND ETHAN DIDN’T LEAVE THE RINK, Y/N WAS CONFUSED. The boys skated towards the bleachers Tara and her were sitting in and smirked at them. Chad grabbed a bag from a corner and gave it to them.

“Put the skates on, ladies”

Y/N wanted to laugh when Ethan grabbed her hands and guided her around the ice, but she thought it was so cute that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she knew how to skate perfectly well.

“Okay, I think you’re ready to do it on your own, but go slowly” Ethan said as he finished explaining her how to slide in the ice.

“Losers don’t do it slowly, Landry.” Y/N scoffed.

“You will hurt yourself, Y/N/N. Don’t be stubborn, it’s dangerous.” Ethan sighed.

Y/N smirked “Oh yeah?” she skated flawlessly towards a corner, and came back with a winning smile. She even did a little spin to show off.

“H-how?” he asked breathlessly, frozen in place with a look of shock.

“Took skating classes when I was little” she explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I was blabbering instructions like a fool”

Y/N shrugged “I couldn’t, you looked so excited”

“You’re evil” he shook his head as he let out the cutest laugh Y/N had ever heard. God, her infuriation was just getting worse with every little action he did. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to contain herself. She needed him to stop.

So her face turned serious “Ethan…”

Ethan fluttered his eyes close and then looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. I know what you’re going to say. Just hear me out. I know that my reputation is horrible, and I get why you don’t trust me. But I have never been more serious about something the way I am about you. I really wish I could erase every hook up, but I can’t and I don’t want my past to define my future. I know it’s hard to believe, but I haven’t been with anyone since I fell for you. I haven’t even thought about anyone else since I fell for you. I want to keep showing you how much I like you.”

Y/N was speechless. He had known Ethan long enough to know he was being serious and completely honest with his words. Maybe she had judged him too much, maybe he had truly changed. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him with a girl in ages. Maybe diving into a relationship wasn’t the safest option, but it was worth the try.

four: get her flowers

DURING HER LUNCH BREAK, Y/N WAS SURPRISED BY THE HOCKEY PLAYER, who on one hand was holding red tulips and on the other one food. Like always, his presence brought attention and whispers, but none of them cared. Something had shifted between them since that afternoon at the rink, and they both could feel it.

“Thank you, Eth” she smiled gratefully. “You know, I had a feeling you would bring me lunch, so instead of bringing mine, I brought yours. I owe you flowers, though.”

“Thanks” he laughed. “Do you like them?”

“They are beautiful” she nodded, her cheeks the same colour as her flowers.

“When you get home, you should look for the meaning of red tulips” he winked.

For the rest of the day, Y/N had been in a haze. Every time Ethan crossed her mind, blush appeared on her cheeks and the corners of her mouth lifted up.

“My god, was I that annoying when Chad and I started talking?” Tara asked when they entered their dorm.

“Yes, you were, T.” Y/N chuckled, remembering her best friend’s love-sick smile every time Chad texted her. “You still are, by the way.”

“Anyways, I love seeing you like this. And I’m glad you’re willing to give Ethan a chance.”

“Me too. I’m not going to lie, I’m a bit scared that he’ll get bored of me, but I’m really determined to risk it.”

“He’s not going to get bored of you, Y/N/N. He doesn’t like you because he’s into the whole ‘Only girl who had ever rejected him’ thing. He’s into you because you don’t see him only as a hot hockey player, but you also see how sweet and caring he is. You’re not interested in using him to become popular, you see that he is much more than his popularity. And that is why he likes you.”

“Well, shit. Now I feel bad for rejecting him multiple times.” Y/N slumped to the couch.

Tara laughed “Don’t. It’s understandable why you were cautious with your feelings. He knows that he isn’t a saint. By the way, did you know that Chad and him made this list with things to do to win you over?”

“Really?” Y/N laughed. “That makes sense, he’s being really sweet this week. Well, more than usual, because he’s always super sweet.”

“I found it on their fridge, they are so silly. It’s called ‘Ethan and Chad’s infallible list on how to get the girl’. I took a picture”

Y/N took Tara’s phone and laughed at the list. There were a couple of items crossed out and with a tick, and the one that said ‘Woo her with your hockey skills’ had a little note to the side that said ‘Backfired. My girl is a skating genius, made me look like a fool’, which made her laugh. Then, on the ‘Give her flowers’ there was an explanation note that said ‘My pick: red tulips. Means declaration of love’.

“Fucking hell, he’s so… ugh! I really want to kiss him”

“Lucky for you, that’s item six” Tara said over her shoulder.

“The thought of them brainstorming and writing this down is adorable” Y/N laughed.

“It really is” Tara nodded. “You should wear Ethan’s jersey to the game tomorrow. You don’t know how many times he told us he has dreamt about it.”

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. Ethan had shown her how much he liked her, and she thought it was time to show him how much she liked him. “You know? That’s an excellent idea.”

[💖]

five: publicly state you’re only into her.

ETHAN KNEW THE BEST TIME TO EXECUTE ITEM FIVE WOULD BE THE NIGHT OF THE GAME. The ideal scenario would be to get that puck on the net and dedicate it to Y/N, and if he wasn’t that lucky, he would settle with blowing kisses and winks at her. Though when he went out on the ice rink and he caught sight of her, his mind went blank, his body stopped working for a couple of seconds and if it weren’t for Chad steadying him, he would’ve collapsed to the ice.

He quickly skated towards her seat, which was in the first row, right behind the glass. “Beautiful, you can’t just come here in my jersey without any warnings. You want me to have a heart attack?”

A sweet laugh bursted out of her “Sorry. Red tulips are your way of declaring your love, I thought wearing your jersey could be mine.”

Ethan’s breath hitched “Um, I’m about to jump up this glass so that I can kiss you.”

The girl shook her head and laughed “After the game, pretty boy. If you win, you might get an extra reward.”

And hell if those words didn’t encourage Ethan to play his best. The game was brutal, both teams were acing it and the match was about to end in a tie, until Ethan scored the winning goal a few seconds before time was over. The Blackmore bleachers erupted in screams of triumph, and the players united for a group hug.

Tara and Y/N instantly went looking for their boys. The last one scowled as she saw a puck bunny making sexy eyes at Ethan and she clung to his arm. The boy couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable, he pulled his arm away, only for the girl to find another way of touching him.

“You have been acting so hard to get lately. Don’t you think a winner deserves a kiss?” Y/N heard the girl say.

“You’re absolutely right. Now, back away so I can kiss the hell out of him.” Y/N said, throwing daggers at the girl, who looked at her in a mix of surprise and annoyance. “And can’t you get a hint? He’s uncomfortable.”

Ethan gaped at her. She had never looked so hot—standing there with his number on the back of the jersey that fitted her like a dress, knee-length boots that weirdly turned him on, and with a scowl on her face as she got all territorial on him.

“And who are you?” the puck bunny scanned her up and down with a frown.

“His girlfriend. Now, can you leave? I have to congratulate my man” she said harshly. As soon as she said that, Ethan was sure he was about to drop onto his knees and let her do whatever she wanted to him.

“Girlfriend?” Ethan smirked as the puck bunny left. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good” Y/N smirked back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now, are you ready to cross out items five and six? You know, one bird two stones.”

“Hell yes”

Their lips moved hungrily, and the kiss was way too heated and inappropriate considering their surroundings. But they couldn’t stop it, their desire was diesel and they had been playing with fire for months.

“I promised you a reward if you won, right?” Y/N said against his lips.

“Isn’t this the reward? This is more than I could’ve asked for. You, finally being my girlfriend and kissing me while wearing my jersey.” his eyes were dark and lips swollen. His beauty was out of this world.

“You scored the winning goal, babe. You deserve a special reward” she licked her lips. “Let’s go to your car.”

He nodded eagerly, and as they reached the car, he dared to ask “What do you have in mind?”

She opened the back door. “One kiss isn’t enough. How much time do you have until you have to go to the bar with the guys?”

“What guys? What bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he acted clueless and she let out a giggle. “In fifteen, but they’ll survive if I arrive a bit late. I want to be with my girl for a while.”

“Okay, then get in the car so we can make out.” Y/N bursted out laughing as Ethan carelessly threw himself on the backseat of his car. “You need to learn about the art of subtlety, Eth.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the girl who attacked me in the middle of the arena.” he said grabbing her waist to guide her to his lap.

“Attack you? That’s not what I did” she scoffed.

“Yes you did. You attacked me with a kiss and then you led me to my car to corrupt me” Ethan said in a fake innocent tone.

“Corrupting the former man-whore?” Y/N arched an eyebrow.

Ethan’s eyes darkened “You’re right. Maybe I am the one corrupting you. I mean, you couldn’t even wait for us to get home to attack me again?”

“You’re insufferable. You’re so lucky you’re hot.”

“I am hot?”

Y/N nodded, looking at him. His muscled arms were spread on the top of the seats, grin plastered on his face and cheeks still rosy from the cold temperature of the arena.

“The hottest. And the best thing? That you’re mine.”

“Just yours, love.” he smiled sweetly, resting his forehead on hers.

“That list of yours is pretty… infallible, right?” Y/N joked.

“I can’t believe you know about the list” Ethan hid his face on her neck.

“You sticked it on the fridge and Tara took a picture” Y/N replied.

“Fucking Chad” Ethan groaned. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, it worked, right? You got the girl.”

“Yes, I did” he smiled hugging her tightly. “Should I do one on how to keep the girl?”

Y/N laughed “I don’t think you need that. Rumour has it, she’s totally in love with you.”

“Oh yeah? Lucky me, because I’m totally in love with her too.”

[astonmartingf]

FALLING FOR YOU ; MV1

max verstappen x reader

. . . in his own little way, max finds the solutions to his problems not without a little help from his friends and ends up giving you the confession of a lifetime

amgf yeah... there's this, just fluff. i won't be as active this week because of exams and research but this is prime time of my impulsive ideas so either i can milk this opportunity to write every single day, or avoid this app for the remainder of the week. enjoy 👍

Max strives for stability. 

He enjoys the same routine that consists of jogging at eight am, early morning workout by nine am, brunch, a few rounds of sim racing, stopping by for a few phone calls and online meetings. If he isn’t expected to fly anywhere else he’d have his usual afternoon snack, play with his cats, more sim racing from six to eight pm, dinner with his team, reviewing data and notes, an hour for his own leisure— mostly sim racing, before heading to bed at one am.

Whatever happens in between is usually one of Lando’s plans in an attempt to spice things up in his life. Whether it’s going to the movies, buying ice cream at the convenience store down the street, or playing padel. Max is very much thankful for his friends.

Max also strives for the best.

He takes pride in his skills in racing and acknowledges his talent, and flaws. Honing them like a sharp knife through whetstones, he polishes himself and cuts through the defenses of the grid. He is a World Champion for a reason, and with a great car and team behind him, he knows they’ll get far. Max is very much thankful for the trust his team set upon him.

Max hates uncertainty. 

Well- hate is too strong of a word and dislike would be too weak for his opinions. 

Max despises uncertainty.

Especially when there’s you- the current root of all his “problems”. Despite his tendency to be blunt and straightforward statements, uncertainty always left a distasteful feeling in his mouth. 

Realizing that his wavering feelings for you have now shattered the routine he built to perfection. Long gone are sleeping on time and hello to staying up with you crowding his thoughts. Head full of the lingering scent of your perfume and the same voice playing in his head.

Max hated it. He despised how you orbit around his mind, bouncing through the walls of the gray matter inside his skull. He often catches himself smiling at the thought of you- before a bitter scowl fills his face and an incredulous and slightly constipated look pasted on his face.

But that was the least of his worries, such feelings could be fixed (a term he used to convince himself these are temporary). It’s not that Max doesn’t believe in relationships or think it’s nothing but a distraction, deep inside he’s aware that he craves affection. It’s the vague emotions clouding his heart making him think twice.

Then again, Max is thankful for his friends. 

“What did you say?” Lando squinted his eyes in the hopes to hear his words clearly. With a blank look- almost as if he put on a mask void of emotions Max spoke once more.

“Do I like YN?” 

The rest tilted their head to the side, in confusion. “D-did you perhaps ask us. . . if- if you like someone?” George, asked once more to make sure of his words, sighing in disbelief.

“It’s not just someone, it’s YN.” Max pushed the question once more and glanced at everyone on the table.

The silence was deafening. Max’ statement was too loud and too quiet at the same time, no one spoke and they left each other contemplating on the next words he will say.

“I need help. How do I know I like YN?” Collective gasps were heard throughout and one by one they slowly left the group of friends on the table leaving Max with Lando and George.

“How about we sleep over your question and. . .think— think about it you know?” Lando, the first to talk regarding the revelation that their stoic friend has now developed feelings for someone.

“Sleep? I hardly get any sleep these nights. I want to confirm my feelings now so I can finally sleep peacefully.” 

That’s when the pair noticed the bags under his eyes, mostly due to the lack of sleep like he said. Lando took a glance at George and started to talk telepathically at each other.

George sighs before pushing Max from his seat, “You see Max these feelings can’t be confirmed in a night, these requ-”

“It’s been weeks, George, I can’t lose sleep over such a trivial matter.” Max retorted with a firm stance using his lack of sleep as a front to confirm his feelings.

“Okay, first of all feelings are not a trivial matter. They are valid, and whatever is going on in your head about YN shouldn’t be taken lightly. Not because we’re curious but because we care about your emotional well being.” Lando spoke in a serious voice which only added on to Max’ confusion.

Feelings are not a big deal, at least not for him.

“And we're curious as to why you like YN.” George chimed as he followed the pair outside the room.

“Yes we’re curious but now how about I give you some romance books that you can study and read. Only you can confirm your feelings Max, let’s stop by my room and I’ll give you books you can read and next week- next week we’ll talk about this matter again.”

Lando now sounds like a mom scolding his child for misbehaving, dragging the latter to his room and sending him off with a tower of romance books.

Max is smart, he can understand such concepts by himself.

Feeling accomplished, Lando glanced at George smirking at him before walking away with Max to his apartment.

Max on the other hand went inside his room and began to bury himself in the books he brought along. “If I’m not sleeping at least I get my feelings in line.”

One chapter. And another turns to five and in the blink of an eye a week has passed. Max returned to his routine but instead of sleeping at one he pushed it to an even later hour to make time for reading which helped him sleep.

The first nights were hard, after finishing a chapter of the book he finds himself falling asleep and now you appear to become more vivid in his mind. Invading his dreams as romantic scenarios play on repeat while Max mindlessly sleeps which results in him waking up flustered and warm.

Passing by you on the paddock became frequent; it's as if the universe has its way to bring you together. Now everywhere Max looked there was you, in the corner of his sight you occupied a chunk of his thoughts and as much as he hated to admit he found himself anticipating your presence.

By the end of the week you managed to invade his thoughts and heart which only strengthened his theory and confirmed his feelings for you. With no time to waste, Max went to look for you. The second practice was over, he’s telling you what you’re doing to him.

With new found information from the team about your whereabouts, Max made his way to the hospitality locating where you’re assigned he opens the door abruptly to see you preparing food. You stand straight feeling the intimidating aura around him, you watch him exhale a sigh of relief before talking a large step in your direction. On instinct you back away giving him space, every step Max takes is a step backward from you.

Unknowingly your feet hit the corner of the marble countertop and like a cliché scene Max remembers from the books he’s been reading you stumble backwards.

Max is a racer for a reason, and with swift reflexes he managed to catch your fall and brought you up to your feet. “You should watch where you’re going. I don’t want you falling just like how I fell for you.”

Silence. Complete, utter silence from the both of you paired with the low buzz of the booming air conditioner right near you. You blink your eyes incredulously, “What?”

“I mean. . . I do want you to fall for me, it would be sad to find out that my feelings are one-sided. But I mean my words YN.”

You adjust your posture and back away. “What are the words Max? About me falling to the ground or you. . . you f- falling for me?” Your voice thins out at the end unsure of what you just heard.

“Both. I don’t want you to fall, it’s dangerous just like how you did to me. You enamored me with those charms, I just want to know how you did it.” Max spoke with the most bored and plain looking face he could muster up. His palms were sweating inside his pockets in extreme nervousness.

“Is this- is this your confession perhaps?” You try to piece things together, like the subtle clues Lando and George have been leaving out of nowhere.

“Yes. This is my confession.” Max blurts out as sweat drips from the side of his forehead. And just as he was losing hope from this failed confession your bubbly laugh bursts the silence in the air.

“You know, you need to work on your confession more. That was unlike any other, but I understand what you mean. Do you want me to fall for you, Maxie?” 

Max stares at you and you don't miss the soft gaze he set upon you. You note the light blush spread around the apples of his cheeks as his eyes light up the moment you called his name. The once awkward silent air was now filled with a warm feeling that spread all over your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin.

“I do. I fell for you, I like you, and I want to mean something to you.”

His way with words caught you off guard, Max Verstappen, who would’ve thought. You smile at him, this time it’s you walking towards his direction.

Max stiffened at the proximity between the two of you, his feet stuck to the floor preventing him from backing away. Your face gets closer to his and all the thoughts clouding his mind have been wiped away.

You face him and whisper something in his ear before walking away towards the kitchen at the back, legs shaking and breaths heavy. 

Taking a moment to himself Max meditates in an attempt to calm his bouncing heart, legs shaking as if they ran a hundred miles, and his mind whirring into different ideas and possibilities.

Max never falls- literally and figuratively.

Yet you managed to be the root of all his problems. The person who made him fall, there was no doubt that Max fell and will still be falling for you.

[wosoamazing]

Sad Times & Surprises

Summary: You get upset because everyone seems to be ignoring you on camp.

Warnings: None?

A/N: It's only short and I deffo have written better fics. Hope you like it. Also this was based of a request but I can't find it....

You lightly knock on the door, Sam opens it.

“W-where is Steph?”

“Kyra isn’t feeling too well, so she is just with her currently, I don’t know if she is coming back or not”

“Oh okay, don’t worry then,” You start to turn around.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter” you said bitterly, you hadn’t completely fixed your relationship with Sam, you weren’t sure if you could trust her.

“It clearly isn’t nothing,” she said putting a hand on your shoulder to stop you walking away “you wouldn’t come knocking on Steph’s and my door if it wasn’t nothing, it has to be quite a big something considering you’re here in front of me.,” you hated how well she knew you.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but at least sleep in Steph’s bed, she might come back at some stage,” she moved to the side to let you in, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating what to do before you ultimately found yourself walking into the room, you slumped onto Steph’s bed, and crawled under the covers. However you weren’t able to sleep, and instead finding yourself tossing and turning in the bed.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after around 10 minutes, you sat up and looked at her, except you couldn’t respond, your words choked you, and your body quickly let its protective barrier fall, as tears started to stream out. You didn’t really know what was wrong. It seemed to be millions of miniscule things, some of which you couldn’t even pinpoint what they were, they just all seemed to have joined and become too much and now you were here, sobbing, in a room, in a bed that wasn’t yours. Sam quickly got out of her bed and joined you in Steph’s bed, pulling you into a tight hug, you melted in her arms, she held your hand and rubbed it with her thumb, trying to help comfort you, you slowly managed to fall asleep

You woke up to Steph in the bed with you rather than Sam. Steph had come back during the middle of the night and was confused when she saw you and Sam asleep in her bed. So she woke Sam up and asked her what was happening, Sam explained before she moved back to her own bed and Steph joined you in her bed.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steph asked after she noticed you were awake. You just shrugged your shoulders in response to her, you didn't actually know what was happening. She hugged you, before you got up to get ready for breakfast.

____

The rest of your day went about as usual. Until training.

____

You had to split off in teams and went over to Steph, Kyra and Caitlin as you were usually with them, however they had Mary this time, it was Tony’s decision to swap the strikers around but Steph and Caitlin didn’t get the chance to tell you that before Kyra lied to you to tease you. “We don’t want you in our team anymore, because you’re leaving us.” She said in a childish voice, her comment which you knew she said to be annoying tipped you over the edge, and you could feel tears welling in your eyes. You went over to the drinks, where the staff were, which someone would do if they were injured slightly, however you didn't stop there, instead you just picked up your water bottle and kept walking along the edge of the pitch as tears started to spill from your eyes. Tony looked over to see what was up, but he just received a shrug back from some of the staff, so he looked around at his players.

“I’ll go,” Sam said before jogging to catch up to you, when she did reach you she stopped in front of you before putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Want to tell me what's wrong now?” She asked.

“It’s dumb,” “No it’s not, it’s upsetting you whatever it is, how bout we go round the corner so no one can see us.” You nodded before you both made your way around, you slumped down on the ground and leant against the building, Sam sat down next to you and just waited for you to talk.

“I don’t know what's wrong. I just feel like no one likes me. I feel like everyone thinks I’m the issue and everyone is avoiding me because of last camp.”

“Oh Y/N/N, you know that isn’t true right. Everyone still likes you.” She pulled you in for a hug.

“Then why will no one talk to me, or like only make small talk with me, Ellie even avoided eye contact with me before.” You let out a deep breath “Am I just being too sensitive?” you said as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“No, you aren’t. If you promise not to tell anyone, I have something to tell you,” you nodded at her “Well, I might have organised a surprise for you with the team, you know, because you’re moving to Barça, but I told them not to say anything at all, not even that we have a surprise. And you know the team, they are all huge blabs, so I think they are avoiding you so they don’t slip up.”

“What is the surprise?” you asked her as she started to get up.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said, she had her back to you but you knew she was smirking you could even hear it in her voice.

“But Sam.” you whined

“Are we going back to training or what, I’m pretty sure your new captain wouldn’t be happy hearing that her newest addition is slacking off on national camp,” “You wouldn’t” “Oh but I would.” She said as she started jogging back pulling out her phone for effect. 

“Sam, I’m coming. Don’t you dare,” she was joking right.

[lucy90712]

Wearing his clothes- headcannon

Gavi:

- You are always wearing his jerseys 

- It doesn't matter if you are going to the game in person or just watching from home he always wants you wearing his jersey with his name on the back 

- His absolute favourite thing is seeing you watching from the stands and knowing that you have his name written on the back of your shirt it gives him extra motivation to play well just for you and it's even better when you wear one that he's actually worn in a game not just a spare one he gave you 

- This all started when you flew out to watch the supercopa final and because it was a last minute trip you didn't pack much so Gavi gave you the jersey he wore in the semi finals to wear to the game and of course it was one of his best performances so now he wants you wearing his jersey every minute of every game to give him good luck 

- He likes to see you wearing his clothes in general because it shows others that you are taken and when he's with you everyone gets to see that you are his and no one else can have you 

- You wearing his clothes helps with his protective and jealous nature as he feels like he's marking his territory when you are wearing his clothes you can easily shut down any advances from anyone else without question 

"What are you wearing to the game?" He asked 

"One of your jerseys just not sure which one" you reply 

"Let me pick one" he says

"This one the first one I ever gave you we need the extra luck tonight and knowing you’re wearing that will definitely spur me on" he says 

"Well if you want extra luck how about I wear one of your hoodies over the top it's going to be cold out" you say 

"You sure know the way to my heart" he smiles 

Pedri:

- You started wearing his clothes mostly to sleep in 

- It began when he was away for a while for the World Cup and you were feeling lonely so you stole one of his shirts to wear to bed as it made you feel closer to him even though he was so far away 

- You did it for a few nights until Pedri noticed while you were on FaceTime one night, to start with you get a bit shy about it but when he says he thinks it's cute you find getting caught less embarrassing 

- From then on you wear one of his shirts to bed every night and when he's home he will often pick one for you to wear so when you come out the shower you are greeted with one of his shirts laying on the bed for you ready to wear 

- When he knows he's going to be away for a few days he will pick a few shirts out for you and spray them with his cologne so that when you come to pick one they all smell like him as he knows you secretly love them more when they smell like him

- For a while you never wore his clothes out because there is far too many things you'd never want to be seen wearing but after some refining of his wardrobe to make his style a bit better you feel ok wearing his clothes out 

"Why are you getting rid of that I like that hoodie" he moans 

"Because it's ugly I can't steal this off you and leave the house or even look in a mirror so it's got to go" you reply 

"So the criteria is if you can wear it out" he questions

"You've got it now help me out" you say 

"But these are my clothes why can't I keep the things I like" he continues to complain 

"Because you're sense of style is atrocious and that's ok because I'm here to fix it trust me your followers will be thanking me especially for getting rid of all your skinny jeans" you laugh 

"Fine but I'm only letting you do this because I love you too much to stop you" he says 

Jude: 

- Jude loves when you wear his clothes 

- He loves it so much that when he goes shopping sometimes he buys things that he knows you will like even if they aren't necessarily something he really likes because he knows you'll look cute 

- There's just something about seeing you happily wear his clothes out and around the house which melts his heart the way you always have a big smile on your face when he sees you too makes it even better 

- Knowing that even though you two aren't fully public with your relationship but that you still wear his hoodies out to meet friends makes him feel all warm inside 

- His jackets are something you steal quite often as you like the look of wearing a nice outfit with one of his jackets which is very oversized on you and Jude has to admit it does look good on you if he could post a picture of you every time you steal one of his jackets then he would

- Jude often thinks that his clothes look better on you than they do on him maybe it's the way you style them or it's just because he thinks you look so cute in his clothes but either way there are some clothes he has surrendered to your possession as you objectively look better in them 

"I'm ready to go" you say running down the stairs 

"Oh wow you look amazing" Jude says 

"Thank you sorry I stole your jacket it just looked good with this outfit" you explain

"Honestly you can keep it it looks so much better on you than it ever does on me" he laughs while being deadly serious 

"Jude you can't keep giving me your clothes I don't need all of these" you say 

"Well I can't wear them again knowing they look better on you so you keep them plus I like seeing you in my clothes" he says 

Joao:

- For a while you didn't wear any of Joao's clothes because you didn't want to just steal them without asking and you were too nervous to ask him in case he thought you were weird for asking 

- You only started wearing his clothes when you went out to the beach one day he forgot to bring a coverup so he gave you his shirt to wear from then on you were brave enough to ask and after a while you just started wearing his clothes when you felt like it 

- The things you steal from him the most are accessories like sunglasses and hats which started because sometimes you forget to bring those things but now you don't even pretend to forget you just steal them from him 

- You don't even own a hat that's why you always steal his and he doesn't mind because he has quite the collection so he always has another one he can wear, sometimes it bothers him a bit when you make them smaller to fit your head and don't change it back as then they don't fit him but you don't do that often 

- His favourite part of you wearing his hats is that you often let him choose which one goes with your outfit he enjoys that because he likes getting you to try a few and see which ones look best and when you agree with his choice he feels validated as he always likes your sense of style 

- One thing he always does is bring an extra hoodie whenever you go anywhere together so that he can give it to you when you inevitably get cold he learnt the hard way to bring a second one as one time he didn't and then he was the one who was freezing cold 

"Here love I don't want you to get cold" he says handing you one of his hoodies 

"You are always so prepared aren't you" you laugh 

"Well when my girlfriend cares more about her outfit than bringing a jacket I have to be" he jokes 

"I don't care more about my outfit you always tell me I'll be fine and that it won't be that cold and then it always is" you argue 

"Ok maybe I do that sometimes but it makes me look like a good boyfriend if I give you one of my hoodies plus you always look good in them" he admits 

"Well if I look cute I can live with you lying to me" you say 

Hector: 

- Whenever he can't find one of his shirts or hoodies he always knows exactly where they are and he's yet to be wrong as he'll always find them at your place 

- To begin with it annoys him that you take his clothes without asking as he wants to wear them but when he realises you do it because you miss him and that you always wash and return them he doesn't mind quite so much 

- Once he realised that you do it because you miss him he tries to make sure he spends more time with you and when he can't he will purposely leave you with one of his hoodies so that you can wear it when you are missing him which he has noticed makes you so much happier 

- Over time his wardrobe becomes yours but it doesn't bother him like it used to as you don't steal his clothes all the time and you always return them the only time you keep his clothes is when he gives them to you 

- He always thinks you look good in his clothes but he loves it the most when you wear one of his shirts or hoodies with shorts while you walk around his place and he likes it even more when you don't have any makeup on as he thinks you are just so naturally beautiful even when you aren't trying 

- There is no way on earth he would ever take any of his clothes back from you even if he wanted to wear them because he knows it would break your heart and he can't have you thinking he doesn't like you stealing his stuff because secretly he loves it 

"Babe have you seen my blue hoodie?" He asks before turning round to see you wearing it 

"I'm sorry I should've asked before putting it on I can take it off if you want it" you say kind of embarrassed 

"No it's ok you look so gorgeous in it it makes your eyes pop" he says 

"Are you sure?" You ask 

"Yeah I'd rather look at you in it than wear it myself anyways" he says 

"Plus what kind of boyfriend would I be if I take my hoodie from you especially when you look so cozy" he laughs 

Marc:

- He absolutely loves when you wear his clothes to the point that he just gives them to you 

- It first started when you were sick and your family were out of town so he took on the role of taking care of you, he noticed that even though you were under a blanket you were still getting cold so he got you in one of his hoodies and some of his sweatpants which helped keep you warm 

- Now he always drops off some of his clothes whenever you aren't feeling your best even if you aren't sick and he just thinks you need a pick me up he will bring you some of his clothes so you can be cozy as that's always makes you feel better 

- Of course his clothes are all way too big for you but that only makes him love having you wear them more and you love how oversized everything is on you as its perfect for lounging around or cold days 

- For some reason he just loves how small you look wearing his clothes it just reminds him that you are a delicate being and that he wants to protect you at all costs, he's protective a lot of the time but if anyone tries to do anything to you while you are all cozy in his clothes it's over for them as it brings out a whole new level of protectiveness from him 

- He also likes to match with you there are some items he has two of so he can match with you or other times he will wear something similar so you two can sort of match 

"Wait babe you should wear my hoodie instead it will look good and we can be matching" he says 

"What's with you and us matching" you say 

"I just like being able to go places matching with my beautiful girlfriend because then people know your mine and they don't try to steal you from me" he explains 

"Well in that case I'll happily wear your hoodie especially if it makes you happy" you say 

"It very much makes me happy" he smiles as you put the hoodie on 

[honestsycrets]

dedication | young!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | young geneticist!miguel o'hara x scientist!reader

❛ type | oneshot, explicit.

❛ summary | alchemax is a dangerous place to work. miguel's new assistant may be over her head. maybe he can help her, though.

❛ tags | virgin reader, f!reader, shitty science, plot heavy, loose canon references, literary liberties, loss of virginity, overprotective Miguel o'hara, jealous miguel o'hara, some objectification, workplace politics, aftercare (as requested), corruption (is it tho?), bc what bc, Spanish is not translated, young!miguel, heel-foot fetish, somewhat romantic.

❛ fulfilled request | can we please have a miguel x virgin reader and he didn’t even know until he was already putting it in?? And then voila his corruption kink unexpectedly growS? @a--dedicated--fangirl

❛ sy’s notes | miguel sort of works on that whole corruption aspect throughout this fic, but i wanted to meld these two ideas together to create a reader who is entirely dedicated to Miguel. This piece was a bit long for me.

“Miguel, your new assistant is here.” 

On paper, you’re an excellent candidate for the genetics program. 

An excellent GPA, renowned company internships, decent publications, and a diverse upbringing. It was all good. Great, even. But as the head of the genetics program at Alchemax, he has a little thing called priorities. Interviewing everyone himself was low on the rung of shit he felt like he should be doing. There was, however, one little, itty bitty, tiny problem with bringing you on board.

“Dr. O’Hara? ¿Estas bien?”

That shirt-- is not meant to hold those-- His brain was left field, glimpsing at them. A slightly sheer button-up revealed the outline of your bustier and its inability to conceal your body. They should have been illegal. He was pretty sure they were illicit in the handbook on his table. He should really read that again. Maybe then he wouldn’t be salivating over something as simple as a co-worker-- He needed to get out of the lab. The bleached walls tightened around him, the space smaller than he remembered. He was going to get caught.

Realistically, the lab was full of witty people. Many of them were witty men with subpar looks and stupider dicks. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Not only because your lips were plump, painted petal-pink, and kissable or because the depth of your sultry eyes went straight in the dick. No, but because that would be improper of a man of his stature to tell one of the only women in his care that she was too gorgeous for the job you were clearly qualified for. 

“Sí, coño,” He fixed his glasses, crooked on his broad nose. He stood up from his desk and grabbed his lab coat, swirling it around his broad shoulders. If he wasn’t mistaken, you tracked the movement with your eyes. “Do you want a cafecito? Miss…”

You told him your name. He mulled it over on his tongue, lathing it in a gentle acknowledgment. Cemented it in a place he wouldn't forget. You tinked your head to the side, your lashes fluttering when he cleared his throat. Great, just shocking-- 

“After you,” he headed for the door. He held it open for you, plastering his back to the wood. It didn't matter. You slid by closer than he’d prefer, your hand catching on his belt buckle with muttered apologies. This wasn’t going to end well. 

Cafecito is an excellent excuse to pull his dumbass together. 

It also calms his nerves, centers his mind, and allows him to compartmentalize. Whether or not you could hold your own wasn’t his issue, his issue was the necessity of someone he could trust. Ugly, beautiful-- so long as they were efficient, Miguel would make due. The cafeteria was a large and clean space. The many tables were crowded with wrap-around stations for poorly crafted, misery-inducing meals. Miguel paid and took a seat at a creaky table. One where he could see the door open, shut, and keep an eye on the comings and goings of meager scientists and annoying managers. 

“You’ll be working with me.” 

You pursed your lips around the warm cup of coffee, taking a ginger sip. He noted your lipstick stain that remained as you pushed the cup toward the middle of the table you shared with him. This damn suit vest was stifling. He gave you a long, slow look, tilting his head to the fact that you’d not drunk anything. It’d be rude to acknowledge.

“Delgado told me,” you smiled warmly. “He said you’re a genius. I don’t know that I believe in geniuses.” 

Hmph. Delgado, things fell into place. That sycophant knew what he liked. He also knew that Miguel was better than him, always was, and always would be. Miguel offered you a slick smile, convinced he could assure you otherwise if he needed to. “Delgado says a lot of things. I’m surprised he gave you to me.”

“Why is that, O’Hara?” the way his name slipped off your tongue was a hot sin. If only he believed in a god. His eyelids shifted over his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark.

“You’re beautiful. He likes to collect beautiful things,” Miguel tried, curious.  Your nails clicked in succession over the table. A repetitive click, click, click. He would be annoyed too if he were no more than a ploy. A distraction. Miguel wasn’t sure that it wasn’t working. His eyes flickered down, catching one of your palms curling into a tight fist, tension rolling through your fingers and up your arms. “He knows I do too.” 

You leaned in, close enough that he could spot the unique freckles spread out in a crescent moon beneath a layer of makeup on your face. Beautiful. “I’m not here to belong to you, O’Hara. I hope you know that.” 

He was off to a great, fantastic start.

 “Understood.” Miguel leaned back in his chair, a smirk creeping up his lips. Or, believe that you believed that. You spared him any more mincing comments. Appeased by his suggestion, you brought your drink back to your lips.

“Good. What are we sequencing?” 

“Me.” 

You swallowed. “You? You can’t be--” 

Mhm, he stared, lips pressed tightly together. “You’ll code my DNA. Then we’ll splice it.” 

"With what?"

"You'll see."

“Is this your little,” you swirled your finger in a circle. “Pet project?” 

Unfortunately not, he would have liked to say. That information was confidential, and though you worked on the project, there were levels to his willingness to involve you in the delicate flow of workplace politics. Still, you might make a healthy distraction from his work. Miguel took a swig of his cafecito, boring into the black substance.

“Something like that.” 

Having a pretty assistant means things don’t always get done according to schedule. Not quickly enough, not by far. There is a time limit to everything at Alchemax. The quicker, the better. Thus this project demanded more hours of his time. The project was spliced between the work required of him by superiors and you, your quirks, and your preferences. 

Miguel has learned a great many things about you in a short amount of time. You don’t appreciate misplaced pet names. You actually can’t handle coffee because of the caffeine or the sugar. He also learns things about himself. How little he likes when Delgado comes to check on progress because he isn’t actually checking on shit. He's checking you out. 

He likes to weasel his nasty fingers around the door, peering in to try and find out what specimen he’s actually working on. Miguel was much too smart for that. His beady eyes caught Miguel over your shoulder, mumbling up to him about a new finding in tests you ran earlier that day. Your face mask twirled around your index finger, finally free and at a documentation workspace.   Funny, because he clearly redacts information from your well-recorded notes on the daily. You refuse to include less.

“Hey Mike,” he said. “How are things… Oh hey, you. You settling in, honey? Mike treating you ok? I can discipline him for you.”

“As if you could,” Miguel huffed. 

But Delgado spying on you, the way you record progress by pouting out your lips, shifting between paper and your lab reports, was intolerable. Because... well, he has sensitive information on there. Your nose scrunches in distaste, but you bow your head just slightly as a hello. He might be his supervisor, but Miguel doesn’t need one to know why this asshole is in his lab turning his smarmy brown eyes over the way you sit: one leg over the other. You seem to realize it too, trailing your eyes over his gaudy suit to Miguel’s sinewy hand on your shoulder. 

“Stop being a creep,” Miguel complained, “She has actual work to do.”

“Actual work? As opposed to--“

“Yes, what you do.” Miguel spat out. You eschewed a giggle, turning your face over a pristine white lab jacket that thankfully, you had no qualms in wearing. Otherwise, he might not finish any work in the lab at all. 

“I supervise--

“You’re still talking but we’re not listening,” Miguel waved him off, plucking up papers by your side. Your eyes snap up to Miguel’s deep chocolate eyes hidden behind the thin frame of his metal glasses, waiting for a proper response. “Goodbye, Aaron.”

Miguel walks to the door, locks it with a click, and returns to your side. You glance at his white lab coat, fluttering around his tapered waist. He loves the way your eyes look at him with a soft, inviting expression, beseeching him to come to sit by your side as he always did. “Not a fan of Delgado, I take it.” 

“Are you?” Miguel sits with his legs spread, his fingers threading through his thick brown hair. You set your papers down, swiveled toward him. The wheels of your rolling chair squeak on either side of his thick, black boots. His eye catches your thick thighs, squashed between your midi skirt, its atrocious slip causing him discomfort. His hand leaves his thick hair, dropping in unison side by side. 

“I can’t stand being called honey, Mike.” 

“Shut up.”

The days proceed similarly. Days filled with brushing past him as he slides in samples and reagents. He might lose a sample, clattering on the floor, and you always rush to help him clean up. Lunch together, because no matter how late he eats, you’re there beside him. Then as night falls, you stay until he has finished whatever he needs to do.

“Time to eat something,” you slipped into his office. The clock ticked past midnight. Miguel flicked through handwritten pages of information that did not need to be recorded in computer files. You watched his eyes scan over the ink on the page, acknowledging you with a grumpy grunt. Not now, not when he was so close to finishing the last section of the project.

“Empanada,” you turned his palm over, placing the flaky pastry in his hand. Caramelized apple. He loved a good apple empanada. He watched as you walked over to the coffee maker, drawing him a warm cafecito just how he liked it. Miguel dropped his pen, stretching out his aching spine. 

“Gracias. From where?” 

“I made them,” you set down the cup a little harder than intended. The surface rippled, throwing hot coffee drips onto his pages. His eyes flickered up from the pages to your eyes. Without thinking, he blathers:

“That so?” A pause. “Don’t you have a man?” 

“Miguel. With this sequencing project, you’re the only man in my life. Shut up and eat the empanada.” 

“Huh. Good. I like that.” He swallowed the empanada with a bob of his head, his tongue lathing over his teeth for any more of the sweet sugar. He stood up, finding your expression soft, drawn out by a sense of longing that he couldn’t imagine he saw.  

“You like my sad love life?” 

Yes.

“No, we have a company event. A ball,” Miguel chided, his tone gentling as he slipped away from his desk, abandoning his steamy coffee on his desk. He backed out of the doorway, “It’s all Stone’s politics. You know how these things are. I have to go. Come with me.” 

“Is that a request or an order?” 

“A date.” 

I’d love to. Your words were the only thing that made tonight bearable. Slinking his tanned skin into a dark blue suit that cinched everything too tight was… unbearable. It clung to his skin like a second skin and choked off his air. But it might be worth it to see your face-- just maybe. He tracked the fluttering tails of fish behind bulletproof glass, following them as they fluttered away into their rock. He wished he could too. 

“Miguel?” 

“You’re here,” he turned around, dropping the champagne he idly held in his hand. It went forgotten by his boot as you called his name again. His gaze fixed on yours, the slinky navy blue dress caused his heart to thrum through his chest, chasing the sight of your body at his feet, picking shards of glass up with the aid of a worker, apologizing profusely for the mess. A soft puff of breath slipped from his lips as you stood back up, gripping your purse a little harder in your hands. He ran his hand over his jaw, drawing himself back to his senses.

“Miggy,” he husked out. “Call me Miggy.” 

“You look handsome, Miggy,” his name felt unreal on your lips until he felt the pressure on his elbow. Your soft hands slunk around his, cradling him for some security in the face of the large doors. He shook himself back to his senses. Right, there was a reason he was here. “But shouldn’t we go?” 

He should have-- but did he want to? No, not really. He didn’t want to see Stone’s greasy face, let Aaron take a peek at how you looked dolled up, or any of the rest of these fuckers. What he wanted was something else entirely. 

“Listen.” Miguel stopped, his other hand coming to the jeweled bracelet on your wrist. The doors to the ballroom lapsed, groups of older men filtering in and out with their pieces of the night: doting wives, longing husbands, and partners that their wives or husbands probably didn’t know about. “Don’t wander off from me. They’re all snakes. All of them.” 

“Even you?” 

“Hermosa,” you didn’t leer at him. “I’m the least of your worries.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The ballroom was dolled up in lush fabrics, fine china, and a copious amount of food as it was every year. Miguel found the attempt to distract from what really went on behind closed doors at Alchemax a bit cloying. This year the music was at least tolerable. It filtered out into the ballroom in a syrupy melodies driven on by the soft, promises of rich men for the exchange of sex. For much of the night, he could stomach the various men poking and prodding at him about his impending research. So long as you were here.

“Miggy,” you breathed, a hot puff of air against his ear. He leaned down, his hand atop of yours. “Will you dance with me?” 

Dance? Miguel had two left feet-- it’s why he was a geneticist. For all the work you did on his behalf in the lab, including this very night, he owed you the benefit of whatever you wanted. He searched out a quiet area, one where the only disruption could be the stream of moonlight in through a window. You preferred it over the wall of vivacious men and over-powdered women. He preferred it over the atrocity of his footwork.

“It’s not much of a date,” Miguel’s hand slid around yours. He encompassed your small palm with his large hand, the other gliding across the soft, exposed skin of your back. You swayed with him, side to side. He was an awful dancer, but there was something endearing about that. He saw it in your eyes, the glimmer of curiosity, gliding your dark heels against the inside of his foot. Damn, he still sucked.

“No,” you agreed, shifting to take the lead. He followed your steps. Right, back, left, up. Maybe he stepped on your long dress once or twice, too. Shock, he cursed again, stepping over your foot.

“You’re remarkably bad at this.” You settled your head on his chest, letting your box steps fade into little more than the shifting of your hips. 

“I know. Let’s just-- sway?” 

“Swaying is good.”  

“O’Hara,” boomed Stone. But of course— peace couldn’t last forever. Like a bullet through the chest, a voice caused him to turn in startle. His tan cheeks flushed with warmth, feeling cut off from the cover of others. He was dressed in the most gaudy of clothes that almost seemed to match the crooked expression on his pale face. No matter how many times he tried to fix it, it always looked… wrong. 

Stone’s hands came together, clapping multiple times to force the crowd of politicians, scientists, and bought-in participants to fade away. His voice caused Miguel to growl, a low rumbly noise that you soothed with your breasts pushing gingerly against his arm. He could do it. He could handle this pompous little shit-- “And who is this beauty? A new girlfriend, perhaps? Fiance? O’Hara could do with a wife. Settle him down, y’know.”

Miguel huffed out of his nostrils. “This is my lab partner,” he cleared his throat, leaning forward. “For… the project.”

“Her? A lab partner? Ha!” 

Shock. He didn’t have to look at you to know you were insulted. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing out the tension as you smiled through the interaction, taking over for Miguel. “We have measurable results.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet thing. Now, Miguel, Aaron has found a test subject…”

“I’ll interview them.” 

“No need! I--” 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stone. I’ll let you two talk,” you slipped away, your heels clicking off into the busy crowd. Stone was talking. Miguel knew he should listen closely. His half-formed plan to see what the future held for his research was wafting into the air, wisps of it in his ear. Tomorrow-- test-- can you? Panic blinded his senses. He could find you nowhere in the room, and even if he did, would he be too late? 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, it’s… excuse me.” 

The issue with falling for someone was the scythe of his fear. His position was inherently risky. No matter how many groups of people he cut through trying to find you, you weren’t there. No tiny little appetizers of shrimp on half a skewer. No booze, because your head would swim. Not near the bathrooms, either. He rushed down the steps when he found you, just before the large iron gates, staring up at the stars peppering the sky. 

At your feet, Aaron. His drunken fingers trying and failing to guide the strap off of your ankle. You, of course, sat there staring dumbly down at his failed attempts to do something as simple as fix your damn heel.

“I’ll take it from here.” Miguel booted Aaron out of the way. Who, with his sloppy sloshed curses, tried to win a fight with him. He eventually won out. Aaron slunk away, somewhere up the steps. Miguel wasn’t counting. “You didn’t listen.” 

“Hm?” 

Miguel loosened both straps, sliding his open palm under your foot for one then the other. You gazed at him, sliding the black heels off your feet, tutting his tongue at the blistered back of your feet. 

“I told you not to wander off.” 

“I just wanted to see the stars. Besides, it was just Aaron.” 

“It’s never just Aaron. It’s Aaron and Stone.” Miguel’s eyebrows pushed against one another, recording your failure to listen. You crossed one leg over the other, sliding your toes over his silk tie, kept beneath a vest. He knelt before you, searching your eyes for the right answer. “You don’t know… what you’re getting into. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

 “I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself, Miguel. Please don’t--” you sighed. “Don’t be like them.” 

He knew what you meant. Like Aaron, peeling off your shoes at the sign of discomfort because you were a pretty woman. Or Stone, who couldn’t comprehend your value as a scientist. Those who doubted you because of your color, gender, or a mixture of the two. His mouth twisted in frustration. He was in deep. Whatever you desired, he wanted to give. It came at a price.

“Are you mine,” the words came out stiff, “or theirs?” 

“Miggy,” you turned the word over on your tongue, willing him to stand down. His dark eyes settled on yours, unmoving. “Why do I have to pick?” 

“You can’t have both. You’ll have to choose. One day.” 

Your mind worked. He knew from the way you pursed your lip out, then in, puncturing its pillowy surface with your teeth. You shifted your gaze to the water, the stream coursing down the unfeeling stone. Miguel's fingers ran across your inner thigh, causing you to gaze down at him. The steps of others on the other side of the fountain, fading into the depths of the night caused you to break his gaze. Miguel offered you his hand, fitting the shoes under his other arm as he walked toward the valet. You took his hand and interlaced your fingers.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” you said, though the words felt thready and thin, nary a whisper. Something in the undercurrent of your voice concerned him. A thread that needed to be snipped, convinced of the vileness of the city-- of who you worked for. 

He doesn’t make mistakes. 

But he left the project code on his desk. It should have been there, yet, the corpse of a decrepit, awful creature withered on the lab floor proved otherwise. Someone had taken it because he was distracted. As a result, someone lost their life... even if it was Stone's doing.

Now, scouring through his papers, his hands tremored like a common drug addict. He supposed he was one, a druggie, tremoring like a shot hungry, Rapture crazed-- 

“Miggy?” 

He snapped around. His gaze melded your figure into one beautiful blurb, even with the glasses on his broad nose. It was your voice, coded in something close to concern. Miguel ran his hands through his hair, long strands falling messily over his eyes and cheekbones. He flattened his hands out atop his head.

“What are you looking for?” 

“The notes,” he weathered a breath. He doddered about the room, throwing a stack of paper onto the floor. They crumpled over the floor, mixed projects, notes on the specimen, but none were his. “Where are my notes?” 

“You’re sick,” your voice broke gently, as if speaking them alone helped. A horrid crack of laughter slipped from his throat, drawing into a long lament as he repeated the words after you. Sick, you said, he was sick. If being sick was the least of his issues, he would have been a happy man. Your steps rang into his ear, heavier than before, painful and loud. He crumpled onto the couch in his office, his hands cupping them. Your soft hands coursed over his chest, unbuttoning his starched button-up and sliding it down his muscular upper arms. “This might hurt.” 

No kidding, needles always hurt. But the instantaneous relief that flooded his system overrode the momentary pain. As your fuzzy figure came into focus, he recognized the drug that you set aside. 

“You didn’t--” 

“You were right, Miggy, about the-- Mr. Sims.”  Miguel gazed at you, leafing through novels of notes with trembling hands. He cursed himself for subjecting you to seeing that. Not quite human, not quite... The twisted look on the poor man’s face. What months of research with one another had offered. He would fix it. He knew the research was on point. It was the application that was lacking.

“I have a copy of your notes,” you murmured as if someone could hear. They likely could. “¿Ay, puñeta, dónde está? Ah! Here, here it is. Your… profile.” 

“You kept it,” he glanced down at the hastily scribbled note attached to the clip. ‘Miguel’s profile’ alongside a soft pink heart. He stopped your hands from thumbing through another leaflet. His eyes traced the dry ink of the heart. His thumb moved to stroke it, catching the sight of bubbling tears welling over in your eyes out of the corner of his eye. The tears slid down your full cheeks, triggering his discomfort to well up in his stomach. Miguel shifted closer, flicking fat droplets off your slight jaw.

“Hermosa,” Miguel shifted his head, cocking his eyebrow. “¿Que te pasa?”

“I should have listened to you Miggy,” you began, inhaling air forcefully through your nostrils. Breathe, you murmured. Miguel's soft hand cupped the back of your neck like a collar. You were happy to be collared by his hand, it felt safe. 

His eyes narrowed, thumb caressing the loose strands of hair at your nape. “You should have. You know I'll take care of you."

You nodded.

"You have to be fully dedicated to me.” 

“I am.” 

“Show me.” You fluttered your eyes, the gears of your mind working to understand what he meant. His hand fell away to trace the bow of your black blouse. He tugged on the knot, slipping the bow loose and running his fingers over your exposed cleavage below. “Take off the blouse.” 

Was it necessary? Some might have said no-- but sex, in its connective nature-- was the ultimate dedication. At the end of it all, that's what he craved: your eyes, your actions, all born with him in mind. With trembling fingers, you untucked your shirt from your black slacks. Miguel sat back, tracking the soft lace of your balconette bra teasing his eye. You loitered for a minute too long, enough for him to lift his thick eyebrow.

“Don’t stop now,” he said. Your knees knocked together, slipping the shirt over and off your torso before draping it on the arm of his couch. Your bra followed quickly after, slipping out of the twisted straps. You skimmed your hands over your breasts, holding them for comfort.

"No." Miguel flicked his fingers, motioning for your hands to move from your thick nipples.  You pushed your breasts together, allowing him to marvel at them a second longer. “Que maravilla... You have no idea how long I’ve waited. Go on, take off the rest now.” 

You suckled in breath, sliding the button of your pants loose. Then the zipper, its cloth scratching your thighs on its way to pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, joining them too with your shirt. Miguel sat up, running his calloused fingers over the side of your hip and waist. His thumbs hooked in your panties, drawing them down over your pussy, a moist spot on your panties connecting a small string of wetness to your pussy. His palm slid between your thighs, pinned by your thighs pressed together, whether out of an innate need for more pressure or shyness to show him how wet you were. Hm. Miguel melded your ass, striking your skin with his large palm, it jiggled.

“Miggy,” you breathed, shy and intimidated. “I have to tell you something…” 

“Lay down,” he told you. 

“But Miggy, what if someone…” Your eyes darted away from his, chewing on his cheek as you slid back down beside him. You settled on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs. The couch was stiff, hard against your neck. You stole a haughty glimpse at his face, focused entirely on coursing his palms over your calves and thighs, then back down to your slight toes. He ground your feet over his stiff cock, obscured by the fabric of his slacks. He felt big-- bigger than you could have imagined from the look on your face. 

“¡Basta!” Miguel growled, “No one is going to come in. Let me see you.” 

You flushed. 

“You want me to…” you glanced down, your curls were soft to the touch. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

With your heart strumming in your chest, you shifted your hand down, spreading your lips, soft and wet. You were so wonderfully shy to follow his orders, the pads of your fingers rubbing along your outer lips, massaging them warm and swollen. You buried your eyes into your other arm, dragging up and down, over and over. A delightful sigh greeted his ear, ensuring that though you were too embarrassed to look at him, you loved it. He allowed it for now-- because he was a gracious, forgiving man. 

“Shock,” Miguel shuffled at the button and zipper of his pants, freeing himself from his slacks. He spat into his palm, stroking over his fleshy length, squishing his cock against your foot. Your toes curled over his cockhead, engrossed in Miguel’s rumbling pants, the soft pleasure that bloomed from his chest. Your eyes trained on his lips, the slight breath suckled between his teeth. Your fingers glazed over your stiff clit, pausing as though you needed his permission, just how he wanted it. Your sweet submission. 

His eyebrow perked. “You can touch it.” 

“Oh,” you glanced down, tracing the way Miguel fisted himself, swirling up to his cockhead, along fat veins and the bubble of salty fluid on his tip. His permission seemed to spur something else in you, flicking your swollen clit to the sound of his pleasured growling, your own pleasure growing in tandem with his. 

“¡Ya!” he annunciated, watching as you failed to stop. All at once he stopped his ministrations. A sigh escaped his chest as he pushed himself up, smacking your hand away from your puffy cunt. His cock bobbed between your bodies. You wanted to touch it, but couldn’t.

"Wait," you cried out. His cock twitched as he lowered his hips down, drawing sweet lubricant on his cock, stroking your pussy. He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss. He dipped his hand down, his cockhead prodding and poking, dipping lower with the aid of his hand. 

“MiggyI’mavirgin,” you said all at once, his cockhead nudged against your entrance. Miguel’s head about snapped as he looked up, eyes popped wide open in disbelief. Before he could quite form a coherent thought, your hands shot out to grip his suit vest, stopping him where he was.

“¿Qué dejiste? Say that again?” 

“I haven’t… I haven't had sex,” you murmured. He hadn’t put it together. Your shyness, the awkward way you shuffled around, loosening your bra and hiding your perfect breasts from his eyes. The words were finally out in the open but didn't register.

"A..." Miguel fisted his cock, once, then twice, shifting back to kneel before you. Your eyes fell on his muscular thighs, the way his hand fisted his dick. “You’re a virgin?”

“I’m too old for this,” you mumbled, hiding your eyes with your palms. Miguel shifted to cast aside your hands from your eyes, his muscular body caging you underneath, looking for an explanation. “I just. Between school, work, I never had time.” 

Not that he was complaining.

"No boyfriend?"

You shook your head. He couldn't believe his luck. Not only were you gorgeous, but you were untouched. His, completely and fully. He liked it better that way-- to be the first memory smeared in your head. So that when you looked back on this moment, right now, it would forever be marked by his face.

"It's mine," he blurted out all at once. "I want your first to be mine."

His hand dropped down to your cunt. The pad of his middle finger worked at your entrance as though he were exploring the truth of your statement, stretching you with the aid of his fingers. You were tight, it had to be true.

You nodded, face buried deep in your arm. It didn’t take but moments for him to draw his hand back, suckling the lubricant from his fingertips. You distantly registered his words, “Damn it, you... you don't know what you do to me.” 

Before you could say a word more, Miguel positioned the head of his dick against your slippery virgin hole. You clenched, glancing down between your bodies again, as you had a dozen times, anxiously waiting. Miguel hushed you, the repetitive shushing of his lips soothing you into complacency, forcing your muscles to relax. “It might hurt. But the pain won’t last,” he assured you.

He rolled his hips forward. His sharp exhale shook with every centimeter that gave way. Your walls were forced apart, suffocating you on the shock of adjusting to having someone, no not someone, Miguel-- your Miguel, sinking into your tense body. He throbbed, twitching in your body. His hands fisted in the aged couch, catching the breath in his chest. 

“Ay, Miggy,” your nails dug into his shirt, loose around his firm muscles. “Miggy, no puedo,” 

“You can, you’re so good, eres tan buena,” Miguel swept your lips between his, taking the moment of your surprise to bury himself further, swallowed by your cunt that resisted his intrusion. Your lips fluttered in the kiss, keened out a cry. The pain of his dick, forcing its way through your passage is quelled by the knowledge that he’s here, with you, his girth forcing you apart, stretching you apart, seating himself flush against your womb. His voice was caramelized, sugared over, and so good. “Look at how well you’re taking me already.” 

“Coño, that’s a tight pussy,” He slid his hips back, the warm sensation of his withdrawal pulling free before shoving back in, a cry shoving forth from your lips, filling his office and the connected lab with your cries. He might have heard someone draw the door open, his hips driving back in, centered on the magnificent groans that stuttered free from your chest with Miguel’s careful thrusts. You keened his name, a repetitious Miggy, Miggy, Miggy-- it was Aaron, probably. He recognized the way his feet drug on the floor. 

He hoped he didn’t just hear it. He hoped he saw it too, the way his balls slapped against your ass, the mess of blood soaking the already unhygienic couch, the way his cock pulsed. You were blissed out, so full and well of him like no one else ever had-- because you were his, and his alone. It wasn’t just sex. It was more than that. From Aaron, whose shuffled steps fell out of his office, to any other little bitch in the office who had their own gain. 

“Damn,” Miguel shifted back, hooking his hand around your thigh to drag you back onto his dick. He swirled his thumb against your stiff clit, whirling it around in one circle, then another, and by the third your knees knocked together, bearing down on his cock to hold him still. “I can’t--” you stuttered out, I can’t--” 

“You’re going to,” he hissed. “You’re going to cum right here, right now, split open on my dick.” 

With another circle, you croaked an ugly cry, a terrible, ugly cry that Miguel couldn’t find any more beautiful as your body buzzed around him, tightening and squeezing your already tight cunt around him. Blissful pleasure radiated there, riding his dick for the friction against your virgin walls, your thoughts fading into a realm of insistent pleasure, where thoughts were space mush.

Miguel withstood the pressure on his cock,  clamping his hand down on your hip. His thrusts stuttered, filling your belly with whip after whip with his full hot cum. Your body twitched in the throes of his orgasm. He tracked his eyes down to your body, withdrawing with a bubbly pop of his dick from your abused hole, the intermingling of cum and virginal blood dribbling down your cheeks. 

Your gaze tracked Miguel, pressing his lips toward yours one more time. You shifted on the couch, legs pathetically tremoring. Miguel chuckled and walked toward his electric kettle, papers crunching underneath his feet, “Don’t bother moving. Not that you could, anyway.”

He warmed a warm cloth with hot water, testing its temperature on his palm before sitting beside your crumpled legs, spreading your legs to clean his mess and sooth the abrasive way he took you. He spread your lips, ensuring you were clean before he would flip the cloth, dropping it on top of your vulva. 

“You know you’re mine,” he asked, though it came out as a statement. With another cloth, Miguel cleaned his soft cock of the mess, exhaustion of the sex and what was to come returning to his gentle, deep voice. 

“Sí,” you answered. 

“And you’d do anything for me. Only me.” 

The words were laced with something more than a suggestion, but an affirmation of your loyalty. Your love. You pushed yourself up, hanging off his arm after he tucked himself into his pants. “Para siempre.” 

He leaned down, plucking the bundle with his sequenced DNA information. Your eyes coursed the information on the page, darting up to his tired eyes. You wanted to ask why or what he knew. Miguel knew it didn't matter. You were his now, from the top of your head to the bottom of your gorgeous toes. You trusted him fully. As you should. With the empty vial of Rapture sitting beside him, forgotten, he spared you a mincing smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Good. Let's fix our project.” 

[galedekarios]

gale as a professor at blackstaff academy

i have to say that at first i wasn't too sold on the (then still fanon) idea of a professor ending because of gale's own prior anecdote about being irked by his previous students and their inadequacies.

i thought it might not be a good fit for him as far as professions go.

but reading the epilogue files, i have come around on it.

i think it's just one more way in which he's really grown into himself, become content with who he was in the past, the mistakes he made and what he has learned from them, and the person he wants to be in the future:

Player: You? A teacher? I'd hardly say you set the best example for impressionable young wizards... Gale: I think it makes perfect sense. devnote: Surprised you wouldn't recognise this, a tiny bit offended you don't trust him to do this Gale: Who better to warn of the perils of misusing magic than someone who was once only a wayward sneeze away from destroying a mid-sized settlement? devnote: playing up to his past a bit, you can imagine this is how he acts with his students Tara the Tressym: Don't remind me of those terrible times, Mr Dekarios. My blood pressure has only just recovered.

a few more cute banters & things we learn about gale and his new teaching position:

tara swipes at students who fall asleep in gale's classes, which he himself doesn't mind. he, too, slept through some of them (like his calishite lessons):

Player: Perhaps that's a good thing. I'm sure they're far better students than I was... Gale: Ah, so you still remember our little lesson? devnote: A little bit bashful, it was a vulnerable moment for him Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. devnote: Complimentary, pulling the thought back to the teaching element after getting lost in the memory of the moment Gale: They try their best, of course - when they can manage to stay awake. devnote: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student Tara the Tressym: The cheek of them! Nothing a well-placed swipe from Tara can't fix, though.

2. gale offered to teach more subjects than illusion via simulacra:

Player: Only a professor? With your expertise, I'd have thought you could teach every kind of magic going... Gale: I did offer, as a matter of fact. devnote: Secretly glad the player thinks so highly of him Gale: However, the Blackstaff insisted I couldn't teach every subject, nor could the simulacra of myself I offered to create for that purpose. devnote: Reluctantly accepts that this was the right decision Gale: So, I've settled for teaching the art of illusion. Magic to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all - imagination. devnote: Selling it a bit - he wants to make sure you appreciate how cool this is

3. gale has told his students about the player's adventures and will invite a player to be a guest lecturer:

Player: I found the love of my life. I'd say I'm pretty happy. Gale: And I couldn't be happier for you. A fitting reward for the sacrifices you made in getting here. Gale: I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know. Gale: I'd be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I'm sure they'd have plenty of questions for you. Player: It would be my pleasure. Gale: Excellent. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the allure of sharing your expertise. Gale: Of course you'll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower- Tara the Tressym: Ahem. Gale: My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.

4. his students find him somewhat intimidating due to his backstory with mystra and the orb:

Gale: Well, that was quite lovely. I'm glad you're as pleased to see me as I am you. Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful to just be 'Gale' for the evening. Gale: I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. devnote: He plays up to his reputations a bit, so he isn't overly surprised Gale: Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. Gale: I surrendered the Crown of Karsus to her, as I told you I would. And in return, she cured me of the orb at last. Gale: Even now, I struggle to put the feeling into words. It was like exhaling for the first time, after holding my breath for so very long. Gale: Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything.

5. he wants to teach his students that there is fun in studying magic:

Gale: I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils... devnote: Despairing a little, doesn't understand why they aren't all as passionate as he was Player: Or on a mind flayer, perhaps... Gale: Smiling may no longer come easy to you, but I've seen how your tentacles twitch at my jokes. Even the ones I'm not entirely certain I was trying to make... devnote: Last sentence a tiny bit self-conscious, aware that people sometimes find him ridiculous. Gale: Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic.

anyhow, i hope this was insightful to someone! 🖤

[redstarwriting]

pda/general affection hcs | ii.

ft. pavitr prabhakar & gwen stacy

request?: yes and no

warnings:  language, cuteness, mentions of injuries, mentions of stressing too much, possibly incorrect use of hindi words

a/n: slay!! i think i love hcs so much bc it gives me a chance to actually get to know the character i’m writing them about lol, i hope y’all enjoy! twas a fun one

if you wanna read pt i. (with hobie and miles), click here!

───────────────────────────────────

pavitr prabhakar | spider-man

pda

- he loves pda - point blank PERIOD - at the very least - his arm is around you - AT THE VERY LEAST - he’s just In Love Dude - and he gets excited every time he sees you - of course, though he reads people very well - so if you don’t like it he doesn’t do it - but bro - he LOVES holding hands - like it’s ridiculous how much he loves holding your hand - and when i say holding hands i mean hands intertwined - doesn’t matter if y’all are walking - studying - eating - just hanging out - if his hand isn’t intertwined with yours his arm is around you - and if he can’t do that his leg is touching you - and if he can’t do that his foot is touching yours - listen - he loves to be touching you - and he loves when you’re touching him - one day after his Spider-Man escapades - he rushed to meet up with you - and his hair was all kinds of blown around - and you giggled - fixing it for him - tucking it behind his ear - he was in heaven - he frequently messes up his hair now just so you’ll fix it - “Pavitr, baby, what’s going on? Your hair’s been so unruly lately.”   “I don’t know, betu, but I think you should fix it for me.”   “Okay, okay, get over here.” - he hopes you never catch on - you already have - but it’s cute so you don’t care - he’s also very partial to staring at you and not paying attention to anything else around him - he has frequently run into a building - or a car - while web swinging if he sees you - and he’s run into poles - other people - more cars - when the two of you are just walking next to each other - the two of you have matching bracelets - he never takes his off - one time he lost it after he took it off - he FREAKED - “(Y/N) I CAN’T FIND MY BRACELET!”   “Pav it’s okay just—”   “I RUINED THE RELATIONSHIP”   “Pav—”   “I— oh hi auntie, what’s that? You found my bracelet! Bahut! (Y/n), the problem is fixed! Our relationship is stronger than ever!” - but he BRANDISHES that bracelet - shows it to everyone - especially if someone comments on yours - he will be right there like - “I have a matching one! Are we not adorable?” - speaking of - he’s not good when it comes to getting jealous - he gets jealous easily - he trusts you 100% - it’s the other people he doesn’t trust around your beauty - he gets touchier somehow - and super pouty - “(Y/n), pay attention to meeeee…”   “Pav, baby, you’re pulling on my shirt like a toddler.”   “Pay attention to me and I’ll stop. Promise.” - he doesn’t get like this all the time obviously - but if it’s obvious some man is flirting with you - he gets this way - he’s also way smoother than you think - sometimes he trips up but he immediately catches it and fixes it up lol - he just loves pda - and you

general affection

- if you thought Miles was affectionate hoo boy just you wait - he has difficulty keeping his hands off you in public so in private? - game over - there are times when he is literally just laying on top of you - i’m not kidding - when y’all take naps together he is sprawled out on top of you - good luck trying to get up - it is not happening - unless you wake him up and even then he’s like nooooooo don’t leeeaveeee :( - his auntie Maya loves seeing the two of you at home - he always pours your chai for you and knows exactly how you like it - he actually knows exactly how you like everything - he will order for you just because he knows how to get it your favorite way - and when you aren’t expecting it he’ll get you coffee - or chai - or literally any drink of your choice because he knows all of them by heart - he also knows how to cheer you up if you’re ever upset - whether he needs to listen - give advice - just hold you - all of it - he knows things about you that you don’t even know about yourself - in fact - he has a little journal where he writes down everything he knows about you - it’s not in a weird way, i promise - it’s more of a “if they need this, do this” type of thing - of course, he also gushes about you in it - because he is literally in love with you - he keeps you out of his Spider-Man business as best as he can - he doesn’t want you to get hurt - because chances are if you get hurt he will literally break down - and if you’re in danger, he believes he could save you as well as anyone else in trouble of course - he’s Spider-Man, that’s what he does - but above all - he would save you - and he really doesn’t want to lose you in any way - it’s actually one of his biggest fears - and when he thinks about it for too long it almost sends him into a panic attack - “Pavitr? What’s up, baby? You’re shaking...”   “Huh? Oh, nothing, (Y/n), don’t worry about me. I’m supposed to worry about you.”   “Uh uh, Pav, that’s not how it works. I’ll always worry about you. If you don’t wanna talk about it that’s fine, but come here.” - he never turns down cuddles from you - never - in fact, he actually prefers being the little spoon if y’all ever spoon - he just loves being held by you - he also really loves the way you speak to his auntie - you respect her so much - and it’s obvious - the two of you get along so well - it warms his heart - and he will often invite you over for meals - another thing he loves is just being in your presence - like literally as long as you’re around him and he’s around you he feels calmer - he has many nicknames for you - too many to even pick a favorite - he’d have to think about it for a long time to choose a favorite - something he does do is he says bro affectionately to you - “Pav, how do you like this new outfit?”   “Bro! You look so good!”   “Bro?”   “Yes, bro… just like… bro in the sense of ‘I love you you mean everything to me,’ you know?… Bro…?” - he doesn’t call you bro often but sometimes he slips up and does lol - you don’t really care it’s just funny to watch him scramble when he does call you that - and the way he tells you he loves you every day - once in the morning - once in the afternoon - and multiple times in the evening - another thing he does is show off to you in private - he always shows you his spider skills hoping to impress you - you know why he does it - and find it endearing - so you ooo and ahhh like you haven’t seen him do all of it 78 times - it boosts his ego and makes his heart flutter in the best way - he has definitely snuck into your room at night after a long day of Spider-Manning - if he’s hurt, you help - but he honestly tries to cover up any injury he’s gotten before seeing you - he doesn’t want you to worry too much - even though you do - the first time he did come to you injured you helped him immediately - and then had to hold him because you were worried - you fixed the injury - and then just clung to him like a koala - he loves when you do that - he will actually walk around while you cling to him like you weigh absolutely nothing - because you do weigh nothing to him with the absurd strength he has - he finds it so cute - he tried to uno reverse it once - didn’t work out too well for him (or you) - but he still thought you were cute even when you did fall on the floor underneath of him

overall

- he loves pda because he loves showing you off to people - not in a weird way - but in a “look how amazing my partner is! i know you’re all jealous” type way - but my god he’s soft - and he can and will know absolutely everything about you - and picks up on your moods and behaviors and will get you what you need - before you even know it - he’s very attentive - and very in love - he tells you that all the time

gwen stacy | ghost-spider

pda

- Gwen isn’t all that big on pda actually - it’s not that she like - hates it - but she also just - doesn’t care for it - it’s not like she avoids any and all physical touch with you in public - that’s not the case - and she will always be very close to you - to the point where sometimes it’s like - personal space, Gwendy - “Gwen, babe, you’re literally on top of me.”   “What? No I’m not. I can be if you want but I don’t think many people would appreciate me standing on your shoulders.”   “…Gwen I meant you’re just very close to me right now.”   “Oh. Well, yeah. I like being near you.” - she does like to link arms with you - that’s a big one for her - if the two of you are on a walk - she will link arms with you - her hand will be in her pocket too so there’s no escape!! - not actually - you could slide your arm out whenever you want - she also will frequently bump her shoulder against yours - that’s like the biggest way she shows affection in public - she’ll bump shoulders - push you playfully - playfully punch you - playfully slap you - it’s a good way for her to show you that she cares for you - but without all the super lovey-dovey stuff on display for everyone - she will also link pinkies - but there’s not a lot of kissing in public - not even like - on the cheek - maybe - maybe - she’ll blow you a kiss - but i think it would depend on who’s company you’re in tbh - obviously when she’s around people she’s comfortable with she’ll show more - she’ll prop her legs on your lap - wink at you - will have her hand somewhere on your arm or your leg - especially around Pav, Miles, and Hobie - she really doesn’t care that much around them - but she still isn’t outwardly making out with you or anything like that - another thing she will do in public is boop your nose - sometimes you laugh - and she’s just like yeah - yeah that’s the good shit - and she’ll boop your nose cause it’s all scrunched up - it’s actually very cute - “I love your laugh.” *boop*   “What was that?”   “What was what?”   “Why did you just boop my nose?”   “It was all scrunched up and looked cute and it’s my obligation as your girlfriend to melt when you look like that.” - she does make eye contact with you a lot - but she also looks away a lot - girl gets flustered - she’ll be a blushing mess at times - especially if you do something while she’s drumming at one of The Mary Janes shows - those shows are the rare times she will give you a kiss in public - she’s just got so much adrenaline pumping through her she doesn’t give a fuck - she will finish the set and immediately kiss you - “How’d I do, babe?”   “Y-You did great, Gwen…”   “Awww, someone’s flustered. Good to know I have that effect on you, honey.”   “Shut up, Gwendolyn.

general affection

- y’all - 🚨we got a biter🚨 - she will bite your shoulder - not hard or like with malicious intent - but she will just - glomp down on you - the first time it happened you were like girl, what? - but now it’s just kinda - awwww - like you’ll be minding your business - cooking dinner or something - and out of nowhere - *chomp* - “Gwen, babe, I’ll give you attention in a minute just let me finish this.” - she will stay there until you are done - if you walk she walks with you - she’s also much more laidback when the two of you are alone - in fact, she is way more open to everything - she will frequently crawl on the ceiling and hang upside down just to give you an upside-down kiss - it’s like her favorite thing - “Again?”   “Obviously.”   “You know we have the ability to kiss right side up?”   “Where’s the fun in that?” - you must admit - you do like the kisses - something else she really likes to do is dance with you - like y’all will be in the kitchen - at like 3am - looking for a snack or something - trying to keep quiet so her dad doesn’t wake up - and she’ll just start spinning you around - she’s lucky she’s so graceful or else her dad would be ready to fight every time you stay over - he also lets you stay over a lot - he wants to give Gwen freedom - and he knows that he can trust you - you’re also the closest she’s been to anyone after Peter (which you help her with tremendously) - so he’s more than okay with having you around - and she is too - the two of you will share a bed - facing each other - this is when she shows the most physical affection in your relationship she’ll stroke your cheek with her thumb - steal kisses - rub your back and arm - play with your hair - she gets needy when she’s tired - and when she comes home tired from a long day of being Spider-Woman - she’ll just collapse on her bed with you in it - “Babe, you should take a shower”   “But I want cuddles.”   “Gwen, go clean yourself.”   “But I want—”   “I will cuddle you only if you take care of yourself!” - she tends to let her basic needs fall behind her duties - so you are always there to remind her to do things - she does the same with you - in fact, she’ll always put your needs before hers - which you scold her for - but she doesn’t care - you’re more important to her than herself, so - like actually, after Peter she can’t afford to lose another person close to her in her life like that, she’s always checking on you and will frequently stress herself out worrying about you - you’re always cared for - always have food - always have a place to stay - anything you need she will get you - she also tries really hard to tell you where she is all the time - she shares her location with you - and even has another dimension-hopping watch so she can reach out to you when she’s away - took a while to convince Miguel of that - “but he caved eventually,” she said - Hobie made her oneL LMAO - she will write a lot of songs about you - like all the time - you’ll never see them - maybe - and if you do she’ll try to play it off like she isn’t a cheesy romantic at heart - but you mean a lot to her - and she means a lot to you

overall

- Gwen isn’t too physically affectionate - but she is when it counts - and she will do whatever it takes to take care of you - you are the light of her life - she will do anything to keep it bright

───────────────────────────────────

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! S/O seeing them maskless for the first time

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair,

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of killing, beefy murder boyfriends, sprinkle of angst, that cute shit

Michael Myers

I think seeing him without a mask would take awhile, he’s not one to reveal much about himself

It would probably just be out of the blue as well

You’d be chilling on the couch, reading or going on your phone or something

Although you never really heard him approach you’d feel his… presence

Glancing up and caught off guard by the fact you’re looking at skin, not an emotionless face of blank white

Probably drop whatever you’re holding from the shock of it

Michael has a large scar across his eye, (and depending on which timeline this is in, maybe also burns)

I see him as someone who isn’t self conscious of looks, despite the mask wearing

The mask is a representation to how he feels in a way, blank, I mean we all know he’s not unattractive by any scale

He wouldn’t say anything either, just stand there staring at you waiting

If this OG Myers, your silence is irksome

If this is RZ Myers, your silence is indicating he’s made the wrong move

Either way both versions are somewhat comforted when you slide off the cushions to make your way over

Warm palms gently caress the sides of his face

Don’t think he’s gonna close his eyes and lean into your hand all cutesy though, no way

He’s just staring, expressionless, into your eyes

Maybe he serves a classic head tilt

Kinda like silently asking, “what do you think”

Of course you’d just smile and lean in for a kiss

It’s slightly one sided but that’s okay, you love your brick wall

Jason Voorhees

Honestly, it was probably an accident

Like he gets some kind of injury, or something similar in the facial region

So naturally when he’s finished with his… “work”, he goes to fix it up

And in order to do that, he removes his safeguard

Jason knows he was seen differently as a kid because of his deformity, the mask is his safety net, a way to look at his reflection without becoming sick

So when it’s perched on the bathroom counter top, and you come waltzing in, let’s just say he imagined this differently

Never wanted to see you without the hockey mask

Even to kiss, he would just place the plastic to your skin

But now it’s just…

It’s really awkward

I’m not even gonna lie

Y’all just standing there, eyes wide staring at one another, you could hear a pin drop

He lunges for the mask but is stopped by a hand clutching his own

You probably didn’t even mean to do it, your body just reacted naturally

Now Jason can’t meet your eyes, he’s staring at the ground in shame

Not wanting to push any boundaries and touch his face, you just tug on the hand in your grasp

Slowly but surely, he meets your eyes

He looks, very comfortable, like lord take me now level uncomfortable

He expects disgust in your eyes, and is caught off guard by the stars twinkling in them

His entire body relaxes

He shoulders drop, his hand clasps with yours finally

And the two of you continue to gaze at one another

Although this time, instead of it being awkward, it’s love

Thomas Hewitt

I’d imagine if Tommy trusts you, at some point he’d let you take it off

It would probably be after a long day, everyone is tired

Especially Thomas

He’d been working in the Texas heat for hours, and no matter how tough this man is, we all need a break eventually

You’re sat in your shared bedroom, on the bed, something keeping you occupied

In strolls the man himself

He’s clearly exhausted, even showered still smelling of the usual sweaty musk

Taking a seat on the mattress beside you, his hair is partially over his face as he angles it to you

The silence is peaceful, even with his usual heavy breathing

Your hands gently caress his leather covered cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss to the bare skin of his forehead

As you go to pull away, ready to turn in for sleep, a much larger hand lands on one of your own

Big, wide, and a dark blue eyes watch your expression shift as his hand guides yours to the straps at the back of his mask

Now, Tommy didn’t sleep with his mask on

That’s a safety hazard

But, he only ever took it off once it was dark in the room, and always put it on before you woke up

The current apprehension in his eyes was melting away as you gradually began to smile

And Tommy just loved seeing you smile

Unbuckling the tough straps, you were quick to lay the now unnecessary item somewhere beside the two of you

Hoyt must be one dumb son of a bitch if he’s calling the face before you ugly

He has no nose, more than a few scars you’ve heard about before scattered across his delicate skin

You can practically hear his heart beating out of his chest

In attempts to quell them, you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips

Although this only makes it beat faster

Vincent Sinclair

Bo’s fault

Like 99.99%

Vincent isn’t shy, he’s just reserved, let’s be clear

But that doesn’t mean he feels completely confident in himself, especially when it comes to you

So imagine one day you’re just trying to find Vincent

And instead of silence you’re beginning to hear shouting, specifically Bo’s shouting, echoing down the hall

Then a sharp clank of something breaking

This only quickened your pace until you were standing in the kitchen as well

Vincent was kneeling over his once whole mask, now split down the middle

“Bo can you give us a minute”

You didn’t bother to pull your eyes from the man on the floor, placing a soft hand on his back as you heard footsteps leave the rom

Long, dark hair covered his features, body slouched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable

He never wanted you to see him like this

He knew he wasn’t blessed with visual beauty

He just didn’t want you to inevitability leave when you discovered what he always hid away

But your hand was firm on his back, careful yet making sure you he knew you were there

“Vincent, do you want me to leave?”

Honestly yes

He probably does want you to leave

Get this over with and let him realize he’s alone again

But for some reason he slowly shakes his head no

The palm on his back moves past his hair, cradling his disfigured jaw

You don’t jump from the odd texture of the scarring, nor the bumps and ridges

It anchors him enough to face you, prepared for anything

Although he wasn’t prepared for the little smile on your face

Or the way you shuffled closer so you could place a gentle, chaste kiss to his scarring

Requests are open!

[bloodybreakupscene]

-> 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

miles morales x reader

-> miles having a crush on a bakery worker!! r y'all soulmates or what? (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

-> idea was cute and also i just [re]watched both movies so plz send requests pretty please >__< !! totally not inspired by the song she lives on my block by chicano batman

"miles! can you pick up the—" rio, miles' mother, called from the kitchen, she was currently on the phone with someone as she was cooking.

"the cake? yeah i got it!" he unintentionally interrupted his mom while he walked downstairs putting his jacket on. his footsteps on the stairs making a squeaking sound as he traveled down.

"aye, this boy. be quick, your father will be home soon!" she ushered miles out the door, father's day was today and they wanted to do something special for him.

just before he exits his apartment he grabs his bag, waving 'bye' to his mom. he runs as quickly as he can down the stairs so he can reach the bakery faster. he contemplates putting his suit on and swinging to the location instead but he didn't feel like changing.

miles puts his headphones on and saunters hurriedly through the crowds of people that seemed to come out of nowhere. he sees some people he knows and waves to them, making small conversations with some. just as he reaches the bakery door, he checks himself out in one of the windows.

'i got this,' he thinks as he fixes his outfit and hair in the mirror. his thoughts stop as one of the workers sprays cleaner on the window, wiping the area where his face was. they looked at him confused with an eyebrow raised and all he could respond with was an awkward smile, before walking in.

he shoves his hands in his pocket and walks towards the register where you were working, you looked up from the cash you were counting and instead, at him. he looks at you with lidded eyes as he leaned on the counter, smiling at you. not sure what the hell he was doing you asked,

"uh miles, do you need something?"

his expression changes and his normal happy expression was back, "oh, yeah! i'm here to pick up a cake for rio morales?"

"alright!" you proceeded into the back to look for a cake with the label rio morales, who you recognized to be miles' mom, who came in every once in while

as he saw you walk away he face palmed. 'what am i doing!? i can't do this.' he was sweating so bad, he just really liked you, if that wasn't obvious already. the other worker saw how nervous he was and walked up to him.

"miles."

"huh—? how do you know my name?" he questioned.

"same physics class? i sit next to you. . . ?" the worker said, slightly annoyed.

"oh yeah, yeah, i remember."

"you're trying too hard."

"excuse me?"

"you like (name) right?" worker dude, miles' forgotten classmate, states in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "they like you too, trust, just be you, man."

"okay, i got the cake, sorry it took kinda long, we have a ton of other orders." you laughed a bit at the end of your sentence as miles turned away from worker dude, who went back to cleaning.

"nah it's good, uh, totally random question…but are you free next sunday?" he says, taking the dessert from your hands.

"yeah," you said rather quietly before clearing your throat, "yeah, yeah i am, uh, why?"

"there's this movie i've been wanting to see for awhile, i got two tickets but ganke couldn't go, said something about working on a final." he smiles, holding the cake with one arm and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket with his other.

"oh! yeah i'd like to go." you responded, big smile plastered across your face.

"great, that's good, i'll text you the time, i could go over to your place! and we can walk there together." miles exclaims, an even bigger smile on his face.

"that sounds nice, can't wait." you giggled.

miles smiles, "well i got to go now, my mom's probably waiting for me." he begins to walk backwards confidently, before bumping into a table, almost knocking a napkin holder over, however he quickly grabbed it before it fell. he shoots you an awkward smile as he runs out the door.

"y'all are so corny." the worker rolls their eyes, putting the cleaning supplies away.

"you're just mad no one's asked you out yet." you shot back.

miles finally got back to his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

"miles?"

he sighed, looking up at the ceiling before turning around and facing both his parents.

"hi mamí, dad." he proceeds towards the table they sat at and put the cake down. "happy father's day!"

"why were you home so late? the bakery's what? ten minutes away? it's been an hour." rio asked, concerned.

"what's going on with you miles?" his father, jeff, said, backing up his wife.

"nothing! i was just, you know, talking with people!"

his mother gasped, both miles and jeff looked at her nervously.

"you were talking to that bakery worker, weren't you!"

"what–? miles, what's she talking about?" his father asks, confused.

"no i wasn—"

"our little boy's got a crush on that nice worker at the bakery! i always see his eyes turn into hearts when they walk by."

they both laugh aside from miles, who frowns and takes a seat, arms crossed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: wooooo, friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Despite the unease of the king’s proximity, you drift down into a hollow sleep. The sort that is grey and empty and dizzying. When you wake, you’re alone. The bed is sparse and spacious as you lay tucked in the blanket, snug around your figure. You slide your arm up as you feel a cool graze along your scalp. 

You fix your cap back on your head, wrinkled from being caught beneath you. You roll onto your back and tug at the blanket until you can sit up. As you do, you notice the yellow beam around the silhouette at the window. The king’s hair shines brilliantly in the sunlight. 

You rub your cheek, hot from friction with the pillow. You look down at the blanket rumpled around your waist. You kick if off and climb off the mattress. There is no time to be sleeping. By the slant of the light, you know it’s due time to rise. You turn to tidy the covers, pulling them taut, corner to corner. 

You brush smooth your apron as best you can, a dent left diagonal down the skirt. You turn and glance towards the door. You don’t dare leave without dismissal, nor do you wish to break the king’s peace. 

“You slept heavy,” he says without moving, “you must have needed it.” 

“Your highness,” you croak through a dry throat. “I didn’t...” 

“Didn’t what?” He wonders. “All must rest, even the mice and meagre.” 

You bow your head and fold your hands. You stay as you are as he lowers his own head and his arms move as he fusses with something. There’s a soft tear and he brings something to his mouth. He turns and leans against the curtain, crushed to the stone by his weight. 

“And they must eat,” he offers a morsel of salted meat. 

“Your highness, it is generous--” 

“But you mean to deny me,” he challenges. “Does modesty serve you as well as you serve others?” 

You don’t know how to answer that. You press your lips tight and once more lower your chin. You wring your hands and markedly stop yourself. 

He crosses the room with slow, long strides. He stops before you. The morning light limns his thick body through the white fabric of his nightshirt. He brings the strip of jerky before you, holding it below your nose. 

“I do not trust a turncloak to feed me from his trough,” he intones, gently leaning the meat to your lips. “A king must worry about such things, but not a servant. Who would ever need taint their food, if they let them any at all.” 

You look up at him. His eyes blaze down at you, stunningly gold, like sparkling coins. He prods with the strip and you open your lips to let it slip through you nibble through the thick morsel until a piece breaks off and he rescinds the rest, taking a bite of his own. 

“It’s the last of my elk, and stale at that,” he explains, “in the hinterland, we do eat more than salt, but on campaign, we must eat what we have.” 

You chew, watching him as he turns to pace. He makes you curious. He is a fearsome man, even in only a night shirt, but he thinks overly much. 

“That summer maiden will not like the cold,” he mutters as he rounds the tub then comes back to you. Half the strip remains. He offers it, “take it.” 

You do as he bids. He watches you intently as you hold the jerky and you bring it close to your lips. You stop, “thank you, your highness. You are a generous king.” 

“No, I am a prudent king. Not always generous, not always cruel, only when the moment calls for one or the other,” he stays before you, eyes torrid as they cling to you. 

“Well, you’ve been generous to me, your highness,” you say before you bite into the meat. It is heavier than what you are used to but tasty nonetheless. 

“Prudent,” he repeats, “so I must send you away. Send you back.” He inhales, his broad chest lifting, making him appear even larger, “you have done your duty admirably, little maid.” 

You chew, making a face as you can’t answer for your mouthful. He inclines his head towards you. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “say nothing more. Eat and go. There is still a war to be won before I claim my kingdom.” He puts his back to you and marches back to the window, adding in a grey tone, “...and a wife.” 

His last words are so quiet, so dull, you hardly can discern them. He leans on the window ledge as he stares off beyond the walls. The sun rises around him, casting him in gold. You swallow what’s left of the elk strip and shuffle to the door. As you open it, you hear a sigh, and you close it behind you without glancing back. 

The king does not sound pleased with his nuptials. So is the fare of nobles and their titles. Often the very status that brings them privilege brings them just as much misery. A handmaid only need worry about her next task. 

⚔️

Lady Jazlene is far more satisfied with her imminent union. She is aflutter as you enter her chambers. Merinda watches with dulcet irritation. The duke’s daughter flits around, throwing silks and satins. Lady Rezlyn watches her from a cushioned bench, a goblet in hand as she tuts and tisks at very choice. 

“Mother,” Jazlene tosses down layers of goldenrod yellow, “if none should do, a new dress might be cut, yes?” 

“A new dress? Of what fabric? We are in wartime, dearest,” Rezyn scoffs. 

“And yet you have your reds and your citrus,” the younger accuses. 

“I need wine to steel my nerves and citrus to fill my stomach. You needn’t a dress to live. You have many and more,” Rezlyn snickers. 

“Mother, I swear you do goad me. He is a king. And the war should end soon. There must be silk to be had,” Jazlene whines, and what of jewels? Pearls? Emerald? Sapphire?” 

Merinda shifts, you can sense her thoughts and the little whispers she’s hoarding away for you. She always has the sharpest quips about the pair of ladies and their whimsies. You do agree with some but you can no more blame them for being frivolous noblewoman than you can yourself for being a simple maid. 

Jazlene continues her storm around the chamber. Her nerves are contagious, you can feel a similar stirring in your gut. Perhaps she realises the same as you do. All she knows is about to change irrevocably. 

You try to think of what it will be like when she is married. She must have the same thoughts. You can’t quite picture it. Geralt sitting where Rezlyn does, perhaps he too holds a goblet, Jazlene rambling over her skirts and gems and all the things she wants. You don’t imagine he’d listen for long. Then again, you don’t know the king at all. Not enough to presume you would know. 

Lady Jazlene puts a string of rubies around her neck and preens in the mirror. She points to you then her hair. You come forward and set to pinning her hair. Lady Rezlyn rises and you peek at her in the mirror. She scowls at her wine. 

“Enough fussing, your father wishes us to see the king to break our fast,” the elder holds out her goblet and Merinda comes forward to take it. “And I need more wine.” 

Jazlene shoos you away and stands. She hangs her shoulders and drags her feet, “mother, I will be a queen soon. You cannot order me around so.” 

“Not as yet,” Rezlyn warns, “you have much to learn of being a wife before you worry so much of queendom.” 

Jazlene huffs and pushes her shoulders back. She looks at her reflection once more, posing and posturing. She curves her lips in a wry smirk. 

“Queendom,” she trills, “oh mother.” 

“Yes, yes, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lady Rezlyn stomps over to her daughter and takes her by the wrist, “you must first think of how to please your husband. As I can tell, it won’t be an easy task, and yet he is as any man is. He is... still a man.” 

“Oh mother,” Jazlene giggles. 

“Look at you, you are marvelous,” Rezlyn pets her daughter’s cheek. “He is a warrior; he holds his shield close but he cannot resist your beauty.”  

The mother keeps hold of her daughter and leads her to the doors. You and Merinda follow at several paces. A habit to keep from trodding on their skirts. The enter the corridor and tension coils around them. The descend to the great hall and to the west wing where the dining hall resides. 

Lord Dustan stands by the head of the table. On most days he would sit in that chair but he only paces around it, tugging at his little triangle beard. You rarely see him so restless. Often, he is as careless as his wife and daughter. 

“Husband, I thought we were to break fast--” 

“Yes, yes,” he waves off his wife’s words, “the king has yet to awaken.” 

You stand by a statue, just to one side of the door. You cannot see the opening around it. You find comfort in its shadow, content to go unnoticed. You wonder if anyone looked upon you, would they see your thoughts. The king is awake but why hasn’t he emerged? 

“What about the marriage?” Rezlyn asks, “a contract?” 

“Wife, if I say it is to be, it is,” Dustan retorts, “must you ever heap upon me?” 

“It isn’t my intent. I am only making certain our daughter’s future is secured. That our family name is to prosper. Husband, I ask in the interest of your profit.” 

“You ask too much,” the duke hisses. 

Before he can receive his wife’s sharp response, sturdy footfalls approach and mute their conversation. A shadow casts through the doorway and you know by the silhouette it can only be one person. King Geralt enters, unassuming in his mail and black clothes. His silver hair is half up, a braid down the back of it. He has his sword strapped to his back. 

“Your highness, the cooks are preparing breakfast--” 

“There is not time for you to sit and gorge,” the king snarls, “there is a war to be won. There is no advantage in waiting on word of your deceit to spread.” 

Dustan has the grace to look ashamed. He twitches and paws at his overcoat, “I... your highness, I would need time to prepare for my departure.” 

“You need mail and a sword. You have a barn full of horses. Mount it and we will be away.” The king insists, “my men march within the hour. We will remember who our allies were when the day is won.” 

“Y-your highness, I--” 

“That is the trouble with summer lords. You think war is played across a board,” the king growls. “war is won in blood and steel. If all you can offer me is words, I am not interested in this contract.” 

“Your highness, I will ready. At once,” Lord Dustan kicks his heels together, “you are right. My spurs are ready.” 

The king drones grimly. He sets his shoulders and opens and closes a fist. Jazlene looks at her mother then steps forward. 

“But your highness, our marriage--” 

“That contract will be met when I have my terms. When my kingdom is forged complete, then I shall have a queen. No sooner than that,” he grits at her. 

“Ah, yes, certainly your highness, then you shall have my favour to ride with,” she pulls a handkerchief from her bodice, “to comfort you in the battles to come.” 

She waves the cloth at him and he says nothing. He grunts and turns to her father. He grabs the duke by his scruff, “let’s hope you can sit a saddle. Carriages are not built for war.” 

King Geralt turns, dragging the Duke of Debray like a stray cat. The king’s golden eyes flick over to you and his jaw ticks. He raises his chin just slightly as he passes, putting his eyes straight only as the meet the corners. He stalks from the room with his blithering ally in tow. 

Jazlene presses her knuckles to her forehead and whines, “mother? Am I to wait anon for my husband? What shall I do? War, war, war! Does it ever end?” 

“Daughter,” Lady Rezlyn sweeps around the table to grab her daughter by the shoulders, “there is no use in bawling. Do not be a child. You are of an age--” 

“Of an age where I should be married!” Jazlene blusters. “How can I be calm when I am promised what I have always wanted and then it is snatched away?” 

“The king will return. As will your father,” Rezlyn shakes her daughter, “King Geralt has made it this far, do not think he will falter now. And when he has claimed victory, he will return to keep good on his promise.” The Lady of Debray lowers her voice, “do you think that your father would break his oath on a chance? That he would gamble. No, he sees what the other lords deny. King Waleran is routed. This war will not last much longer.” 

“Truly, mother?” Jazlene bats her lashes, “how do you know?” 

“Trust your mother,” Rezlyn speaks as though her daughter is no more than a child. “Your father has risked his neck to claim you a king. Do not doubt him.” 

Jazlene considers her mother, searching her face, and pulls her into an embrace. She lets out a shrill squeal and pulls back. Her cheeks round with glee. 

“You’re right mother, this is a blessing. This will allow us time to alter a dress fitting for such a wedding.” 

“Don’t forget a coronation,” Rezlyn adds coyly. 

[harrywavycurly]

What You Deserve Part 3: Start Small

Masterlist: Here

CW: Tiniest mention of your toxic ex

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies

A/N: You might be nervous but don’t worry Eddie’s got you also it’s a long one so I split it up into sections and it’ll make sense as you read, enjoy🫠✨

“Good Morning.” “Good Morning…uh you didn’t have to knock on my door you could’ve just honked or-” “honked?…sweetheart I’m not sixteen and running late to school….I’m here to pick you up so that means I knock on the door or ring the bell…whatever you prefer and walk you to my car.” “Oh…Steven just honks…it’s not that big of deal really if it’s easier than getting all the way out-” “it’s not your job to make things easier on anyone…especially Harrington.” “Sorry…I’ll uhm work..on that.” “You don’t have to apologize…so shall we exit the porch now or did you want to stand here for a bit longer?” “Oh yeah yeah we can go…holy shit is that your car?” “One of them yeah…do you not like it? I went with the one that has the smoothest ride…since I know feeling comfortable while inside a car is important to you.” “It’s so…nice I don’t want to like…get it dirty or anything.” “Sweetheart…it’s car…it’s gonna get dirty and that’s fine I’ll just wash it…trust me…there’s nothing you could do that I can’t fix…so please…get in the car.”

“Okay…” “Your coffee is right there…and feel free to change the radio to whatever you want.” “Thank you…oh you don’t care if I touch this stuff?” “Well you’re going to have to touch it if you want to change the station…” “I’m uh not used to being able to mess with the buttons in the car if I’m not driving.” “Please tell me Harrington-” “No no Steven lets me but him and I listen to the same stuff so it was fine…it was uh…my last uhm boyfriend he..didn’t let me control anything in the car.” “Well let’s get this out of the way now okay?…I’m Eddie…or to you I’m sure you’d prefer to call me Edward but either way…I’m not your ex…so whatever he was like and by the sounds of it he wasn’t a very…nice guy…so just know I’m not like him…so feel free to touch all the buttons and change the station..hell roll your window down if you want I don’t care…what’s mine is yours okay?” “Really?” “Yes..that’s a big part of this…type of relationship…whatever I have you also have…and if there’s something you want then just tell me and I’ll do my best to get it for you.” “Oh wow…okay…uh so when you say relationship what uhm…what would I call you?” “What do you mean?” “Like…when you drop me off today and someone asks oh who was that? Is that your boyfriend? What…what should I say? I can’t just be like oh that’s just my…sugar daddy Eddie.” “Yeah that’s sort of a mouthful isn’t it?” “I mean that’s uh just assuming you….you want to be my daddy…sugar daddy…sorry I’m just nervous and you’re…a uhm little intimidating in person but not in a bad way it’s…it’s like in the same way I’d feel around Tony Soprano or someone like that.” “Did you just compare me to a mob boss? That’s the vibes I give off?….if so then me and my stylist need to have a conversation about my wardrobe.” “You have a stylist?” “She does my shopping for me once every two months or so because I hate shopping for clothes….but Tony Soprano…really?” “I mean…you just look like you could easily have someone whacked with the snap of a finger and…yet you also look like you give really good hugs which is important because sometimes a good hug can just fix everything and…and you just…I feel…safe? Even though I don’t really know you…I’d trust you with my drink at a party.” “I’m honored that you’d leave your drink with me at a party and I’m glad you feel safe with me…but you make me sound like I’m some super badass dude…when I’m just a business owner who doesn’t have any mafia connections at all so no matter how many times I snap my fingers no one is getting whacked…” “damn..I was going to give you a list.” “But I have been told I give good hugs.” “That’s good…that’s really good to know….so uhm…how do we actually do this? Do I sign something? Do you want a trial run to see if I annoy you or not?” “I don’t need a trial run…also this isn’t fifty shades of grey I don’t need you to sign anything.” “You’ve seen those movies?” “No I read the books.” “Oh…you…you like to uhm…read? That’s…great.” “So why don’t we start small for now?” “Okay…what does that mean exactly?” “You let me take you to and from work this week and we can get to know each other more and…you let me buy you dinner Friday night?” “Okay that…sounds fine.” “And Friday over dinner we can discus what we both want out of this? Does that sound doable?” “Yes…that’s doable.” “Perfect.”

“Harrington isn’t even here yet and the store opens in five minutes?” “Yeah but that’s fine I have a key and can open the store up.” “By yourself?” “Yeah? I do it all the time.” “That’s…not safe…Steve should know better than that.” “It really is okay…oh are you going to see Dave today?” “I am…I’m actually going to work on him myself.” “Really?” “Yeah I figured he deserved to be worked on by someone that knows his life story…I’m gonna do what I can for him don’t worry.” “Easier said than done…” “I know…oh look who decided to actually show up to work.” “He’s not late so that’s actually good timing for him…so uhm I’ll see you later?” “Yeah I’ll be here when your shift is over.” “So uh have a good day Eddie…” “thanks sweetheart…tell Harrington to call me.” “Uh oh he’s in trouble isn’t he?” “No…not at all…” “what are you-” “you didn’t think I’d let you open your own door did you?” “Oh…uhm well thank you.” “Have a good day…oh and please don’t wait for me outside when you’re done working okay? I’ll come inside and get you.” “Okay…I’ll see you later then…” “Yes…now I gotta go but I’ll tell Dave hello for you.” “Thanks…for uhm…everything.” “You’re welcome.”

[soulrph]

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

as requested by a very wonderful, very dear, very lovely friend! i hope you all enjoy using these as much as i enjoyed writing them! i honestly found these so nice and therapeutic to write tho like oml i cannot get over it! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST PLEASE! 

“ oh, i knew you could do it! i’m so proud of you! “

“ i’m thinking of doing a movie/game night at my place, if you wanna join in? “

“ how many mugs of coffee have you had today?! that’s enough, now, you go take a nap before you buzz through the ceiling! “

“ i’ll send you the recipe, if you like! but, in the same breath, you should know that i really don’t mind continuing to cook this for you; it’s no trouble at all, really! “

“ are you sure there isn’t anything i can do to help you in the kitchen? “

“ come on in! take a seat! i’ll fix you up a plate, there’s more than enough to go around! “

“ why don’t you spend the night here? really, it’s no trouble to fix up the guest room, and we have plenty of spare pajamas and toiletries if that’s what’s bothering you! “

“ look, i get the whole lone wolf thing, trust me, i do. but... you do understand that there’ll always be a place here for you, don’t you? that door is always open to you, no matter what. that’s a promise. “

“ why don’t i make you a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it? “

“ [NAME]? hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter? are you okay? what’s wrong? oh, come here... “

“ jeez, i don’t even wanna know how you got that battle wound there; sit down and let me fix it up, won’t you? “

“ hey, stranger! it’s been a minute, huh? what’ve you been up to? how have you been? hell, where have you been? “

“ now, now, don’t be silly; put that wallet away. i invited you out for dinner, so i’ll pay the bill, right? you can get the next one! “

“ hey, you didn’t order anything! don’t worry about it, huh? here, take half my sandwich; i can never finish the damn thing, anyway, you’re really doing me the favor! and there’s coffee in that flask, so help yourself to that, too! i’ve been trying to cut back, anyhow. “

“ hey, i know it’s really late, but... i didn’t know who else to call. “

“ everything’s gonna be okay, i promise. just tell me where you are, okay? and i’ll come and get you right this second. “

“ well, we have to celebrate your good news! what’s your favorite dinner? oh, and cake! we can’t have a decent celebration without cake, right? “

“ hey, hey, it’s okay, relax. i’m not about to nag you for skipping out on curfew, alright? have you eaten anything? because i saved you a plate, and it’s in the oven if you want it. “

“ now, now, none of that self-hate talk! we all have bad days, right? we all mess up sometimes and make silly mistakes. but it doesn’t matter at the end of the day; it just makes the good days all the better! “

“ guess who has an extra ticket for the concert this weekend! wanna come with me? they’re practically front row! “

“ you’re still coming over for dinner tonight, right? “

“ hey! what are your plans for the holidays? because, if you didn’t have any, i have an offer for you! or an open invitation! “

“ did you do something different with your hair? it looks amazing! “

“ oh my god, where have you been?! i was so worried about you! are you okay? did you get hurt?! “

“ we should go out tonight! come on, you can ransack my wardrobe if you like! i have a friend who’s the bouncer at that new night club, they can get us in for free! “

“ i made you some breakfast, if you’re hungry? it’s your favorite! unless you’ve got a new favorite, in which case... “

“ don’t forget to take an umbrella! “

“ let me know when you get there so i know you’re safe, okay? “

“ i watched that show you recommended last week! it was so good! can you believe that season finale, though? “

“ rough night, huh? i know that feeling. here, help yourself; the coffee is fresh, and the waffles are pretty damn good today, if i do say so myself! “

“ i knew you’d forget yours, so i brought extra. go ahead, help yourself! “

“ you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like. what’s mine is yours, okay? you don’t need to ask permission, just take whatever you want. “

“ you should get some sleep, okay? my room is just down the hall if you need anything. “

“ you don’t need to be so polite around here, you know! help yourself; i don’t bite! “

“ hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. besides; shoulders are built to be cried on! “

“ you should keep that sweater! it looks much better on you than it does on me; brings out your eyes! “

“ i never realized you could cook! the apron suits you very nicely! “

“ if you don’t have any plans this weekend, we should do something together! “

“ remember, if you want to leave early, just call me and i’ll come get you, okay? “

“ would you come on in inside out of that rain?! you’ll catch your death! “

“ don’t worry about it, okay? no apologies necessary; just breathe, everything’s good. “

“ it’s okay! no use crying over spilt milk, am i right? fetch me that mop and i’ll clean it up; you should find a clean shirt in the third drawer in my room, too! “

“ here, grab a plate; i made your favorite, and there’s more than enough for you to have seconds and take home a tonne of leftovers, too! “

“ would you mind setting the table for me while i finish up in the kitchen? “

“ you want some hot cocoa before you go to bed? i’m more than happy to have one with you; not to praise myself or anything, but my hot cocoa is the best in town! “

“ you did it! oh, congratulations! quick, i’m gonna fetch the sparkling cider, and then i’ll book a table somewhere fancy; we’re going to celebrate in style! “

“ oh god, you’re burning up a fever, you poor thing! here, lie down, let’s get you some water and a nice cool cloth, huh? “

“ how are you feeling? i thought you might be hungry, so i made some tea and toast. “

“ i thought i might find you out here... this must be your favorite spot, huh? it’s nice! “

“ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

“ figured you might be needing an extra blanket in this weather. you mind if i sit with you for a while? “

“ let’s go for a walk, huh? i know this place that does the best coffee you’ll ever have! “

“ i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before! we have to fix this immediately; you get the popcorn, i’ll order in the pizza and get the tv set up. “

“ wow... that pun was so awful, it actually became good again. nicely done! “

“ i know you have that meeting today, so i thought i’d come wish you luck. and give you my lucky socks! ���

“ hey! i hope you’re hungry, i spared you some waffles and pancakes from breakfast this morning! “

“ maybe you’re not ready to talk just now. but i want you to know that, whenever you are, my door is always open to you. understand? “

“ i’m not here to say i told you so, don’t worry. i’m not that cruel. i’m just here to comfort my friend. “

“ you’re here so often, i figured it was about time you had your very own mug! “

“ do you mind if i put you down as my emergency contact? “

“ you should move in with me! i have a spare room, the rent is cheap, it’s closer to work... i mean, only if you want to, but i’m very much in favor of this! “

“ i know that things haven’t been easy for you lately, so... i was thinking, maybe we could plan a little vacation together? “

“ pull the car over, alright? you can get some sleep in the back seat, and i’ll take over the driving. “

“ woah, woah, woah... slow it down a few miles, huh? what’s going on? where’s the fire? “

“ do you want a hug? i give some really good hugs; i nearly got voted the best hug-giver in the continent, once! come on, you know you want to! “

“ hey! so i’m after having a really crappy day. you wanna get take-out and watch a movie at my place tonight? “

“ i remember you saying you didn’t like this ingredient last time, so i fixed you up something else. “