#to be clear the last one is a homage!

[insomniac-arrest]

You can survive almost anything through the right combination of:

Bitching and moaning

Hater-ology

Doing a goofy little bit about it

Having a buddy say "that's so fucked up" at intermittent points (you can also be your own buddy)

Destroying the cursed amulet you carry everywhere, why do you even have that thing

[roanofarcc]

LIKE MOTHER LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER

pairing. tyler owens x harding!reader - part 2!

summary. you had made a name for yourself in the storm chasing game; it was in your genes, being the daughter of famous chasers jo and bill harding. tyler found your knacked for knowing just what the storm’s thinking a little infuriating and incredibly impressive.

 warnings. fem!reader, reader gets injured, mentions of blood and injuries, probably inaccurate meteorological info & medical info, angst & fluff, some hurt/comfort on this fine Tuesday night.

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

a/n. twister has been my favorite movie FOREVER so here's a little homage to the og storm chasers <3

You were ten when you went storm chasing for the first time. Growing up, you’d heard your parents' stories every time there was a shift in the weather. Instead of the typical childhood fear of storms, you had always been fascinated by them; your dad, Bill Harding often joked it was in your genes, the lack of fear. With some light convincing of your mom, Dr. Jo Haring, she agreed to take you storm chasing for your tenth birthday. 

The twister had been small, barely an EF1, but it was wondrous. There was something dangerously beautiful about it that drew you in just as it had your parents when they were younger. From that point on, you knew you wanted to be just like them, chasing storms up and down Tornado Alley. 

And with the stubbornness passed down by your mom, that is exactly what you did. You were damn good at it to. 

“It’s lookin’ like a big one to the southeast,” a member of your team said, slugging an arm around your shoulder as she looked up at the sky, squinting slightly at the sun. “But the radar says we’ve got another brewin’ west. She's pickin’ up speed but it’s still developing.” 

You hummed in response, gazing up at the sky too, judging which one was your best bet by observing the clouds in either direction. “Let’s hang back and go for the one to the west, I like her chances better.” Your teammate, Frankie, grinned as she nodded and headed off toward the other three members of your small, but mighty team. 

As you waited for the storm to flesh out a little more, you sat on the bed of your truck, dangling your legs off of the tailgate. The fresh air filled your lungs and the faint smell of incoming rain brought a smile to your lips. Every time you got ready for a chase, you felt ten years old again, giddy and excited for the thrill of the storm. You thought back to the photo albums you’d looked at a hundred times over of your parents and their numerous storm-chasing adventures. They never pushed you into storm chasing, as it was a dangerous line of work, but from a very young age, it was clear that your fascination with storms wouldn’t be quelled with a simple meteorology degree and a job behind a desk. 

Storm chasing was in your blood, and your knack for it was known among other storm chasers. 

“Well, if it isn’t the doctor herself,” a familiar voice filled your ears, belonging to the one and only Tyler Owens. He approached your truck, hands on his hips and a certain cockiness that excited you. You liked a challenge, and you loved showing cowboys up. Tyler was good at what he did, but you were just a little bit better, and it both irritated and impressed him. 

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” you said, earning a light chuckle from him. 

“You don’t look in a hurry. That storm to the southeast won’t last forever.” You shrugged and he narrowed his gaze just slightly. “You’re not going after that one, are you?” 

“Damn,” you sighed. “You’re getting harder to trick, Owens.”

He laughed, light and sweet. It was easy to see how he garnered such a large online audience. Tyler was easy on the eyes, drove straight into tornados with a grin on his lips, and had the knowledge of storms to back up his insane behavior. You’d never admit it aloud, but he did impress you, even if you thought some of his actions were reckless even for a storm chaser.

The two of you had an interesting rapport. It toes the line between rivals and friends, the odd territory in between. You loved teasing him, and he tried to outsmart you even if it never worked. 

“Maybe you’re getting too predictable,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“Och.” You faked hurt, placing a hand over your heart. “What is it you always say? If you feel it, chase it. If you think the one to the southeast is gonna show her face, go for it.” 

Tyler studied you for a moment, contemplating what kind of game you were playing with him. All you did was smile at him in return, which led him to roll his eyes. “Unfortunately, you’re rarely wrong,” he sighed. 

“It’s a blessing and curse.” 

“You’re impossible,” he said. “But the west it is. It better not let me down, Dr. Harding.” You only used that title in more professional settings. That had been a condition of your mother. She had gotten her PhD and believed you could too. It was tough, but you earned it; only, you didn’t expect some cowboy to use it to lightly mock you when you proved him wrong.

“You have my word,” you said. 

And you were right. The storm to the west produced a beautiful tornado. You and Frankie got close while the rest of your team hung back. Rain pelted the windshield as you grew closer, watching the dark funnel tear through the expanse of fields, picking up speed on the ground. Somewhere along the way, Tyler’s unmistakable red truck ripped past you, heading into the heart of the twister, which you rolled your eyes at. 

“She’s a beauty!” Frankie hollered, holding her camera at the ready. 

It was a great chase, but the thing about tornados that was both thrilling and dangerous was their unpredictability. You knew the storm would be big, and the closer you grew the more power you saw that it had. The other truck carrying the rest of your team had communicated the growing intensity of the storm via the radio. But it looked to be on a steady path west, so you saw no issue tailing it while Frankie snapped pictures.

The rain only grew heavier and heavier, almost completely obstructing your view. It wasn’t until a tree crash landed directly in the middle of the road did you realize the tornado had changed directions suddenly. A startled scream torn from Frankie lips and you slammed on the breaks, narrowly missing the tree. 

“Holy shit,” she whispered, leaning up against the dash and trying to see through the rain wrap. “It’s right there. It’s right there! We gotta go!” 

You quickly threw your truck in reverse and backed up, but you didn’t get far. A lone semi that had been traveling skidded to a stop just a couple hundred feet behind you. The way they had stopped at the sight of the tornado left its trailer sideways across the road before it was abandoned by the figure hunkering down in the ditch that lined the backroad. 

You hissed under your breath, trapped between two objects and a tornado that shook your truck. There wasn’t enough space to fly around the semi. The ditches on either side of the road were too deep to take quickly and another minute trying to maneuver around the semi would only lead to your truck getting swallowed by the storm, picked up, and tossed around like a rag doll. 

Your parents had prepared you for a kind of situation like that, but that didn’t shake your panic. With a rapidly beating heart, you put the truck in park and yelled at Frankie to get out. You both stepped out into the storm as the tornado loomed closer and closer. Wind whipped all around you along with debris. You grabbed Frankie’s hand and together you sprinted toward the ditch. 

Frankie lay on her stomach, and you lay beside her, covering her head the best that you could. Whatever happened, you had always told yourself your teammates' safety came first. You were the one who talked them into storm chasing with you. So, when danger arose, you felt the responsibility of keeping them safe. 

The screeching of winds was so loud in your ears that it almost disoriented you enough to miss the sharp piece of debris that swooped down at the tornado that passed along the field just opposite of the ditch, not directly over top of you but much too close for comfort. Something smacked against the back of your head, but you closed your eyes and held onto Frankie in hope of shielding her from any other flying objects. 

You weren’t sure how long you two lied there, but it felt like a lifetime until the tornado traveled further away. The winds died down but your heart beat stayed quickly pounding against your chest. 

Sitting up, you felt the sharp sting settling in the back of your head, but you ignored it at the sight of Frankie’s cut leg. 

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing her knee to examine the clean slice down the back of her shin. 

She wiped back the wet pieces of her hair and let out a shuttered breath. “Holy shit, that was crazy.” You pulled off your sweatshirt and wrapped the wet fabric around her shin. “What’re you doing?” 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“It’s fine,” she said, trying to brush it off, but you heard the pain in her voice, along with the tremble of lingering fear at your close call. You knew the dangers of storm chasing and the possibilities of injuries, but it always felt different to you when it was a member of your team, one of your friends. 

A couple minutes after you tied your sweatshirt around her shin and helped her up from the ditch, the truck carrying the rest of your teammates rolled up, hooting and hollering at the size of the storm until they saw the state the two of you were in. 

“Take her back to the motel. If the bleeding doesn’t stop take her to the hospital.” Frankie opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “I’m serious.” 

“What about you?” another member of your team asked. 

You looked down the road at your overturned truck, sighing sadly to yourself as the pain in the back of your head throbbed. “I’ve gotta call someone for my truck. I’ll meet you back at the motel later.” 

They were hesitant to leave you but eventually agreed. Down the debris-littered road, you hobbled back to your truck. It had been a gift from your parents after you graduated college; it was special to you, but it was totaled thanks to the tornado. 

With a groan, you heaved open the door and tried to gather your belongings, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. You staggered backward, reaching up to touch the tender spot on the back of your head. Something wet coated your fingers and when you pulled your hand back, it was painted red. Frustrated, you tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself down enough to find your cell phone. Unfortunately, the cut was a little worse than you wanted to admit, and you felt blood drip down the back of your neck. 

Dizzily, you sat down on the road, blinking back the pain and wooziness. A slow creep of panic started to take hold as the pain intensified and the world started to spin just slightly. 

With one hand placed firmly on the back of your head, you rubbed your temple with your other, trying to think clearly but it became increasingly more difficult. You missed the hum of an engine nearby, but a slam of a door startled you. 

“Harding!” Someone yelled and you blinked slowly, keeping a hold on the back of your head as you looked up to see Tyler Owens bee-lining right toward you. He kneeled in front of you, brows furrowed and lips pulled in a small frown. “Hey, are you all right?” 

“Yeah,” you said quickly, once again trying to push away the dizziness that plagued you. “I’m, uh, just looking for my phone. I gotta call someone for my truck.” The words felt heavy in your mouth, which couldn’t be a good sign. Whatever struck the back of your head hit it hard and the blood that leaked from the wound wasn’t helping. 

He studied you for a moment, his gaze landing on your hand pressed against the back of your head. “You hurt?” You started to shake your head, but that only caused little black dots to temporarily pepper your vision. Tyler wasn’t an idiot; he reached up and carefully pushed your hand back, stopping when he saw the blood that started to drip down your arm. He cursed under his breath and yelled something at whoever sat in the passenger seat of his truck. 

“Hey.” His voice became soft, comforting even. “We’ve gotta get you to a hospital.” 

“I’m fine,” you inisted, even though every thing you felt inside your body proved that to be untrue. You just hated not being able to do something yourself; you hated needing help. Your father said you interited that from your mother, while she said you got it from your father. Truth was, they both had their air of stubbornness and you was born with double. 

Tyler shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He stood to his feet and gently tugged on your arm in an attempt to help you stand. Begrudgingly, you let him help you. Standing up, the world spun faster and you felt panic swell uncomfortably in your chest. You swayed catching yourself on Tyler’s arms as they grabbed your shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he said. Maybe it was your slightly disoriented state, but his assurance and hands firmly holding onto your arms made some of your panic recoil. As much as you wanted to be okay, you knew that was not the case. 

He knew that too, and helped you into the passenger seat of his truck before he instructed one of his fellow Wranglers to keep pressure on the back of your head with whatever they could find in the backseat. You winced as a crumbled up shirt was held against your head, but the moving truck overwhelmed you with dizziness that made the physical pain of your wound the least of your worries. You didn’t want to pass out but your eyes felt heavy. 

Tyler noticed it too, and placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and a shake. “You gotta stay with me, okay? You gotta stay awake.” 

“M’trying,” you muttered. 

“You were right about the storm,” he said. “But aren’t you always?” 

A pained smile fell across your lips. “Was that a compliment?” 

He laughed, driving quickly down the road with one hand gripping the wheel tightly. “Yeah. You’re hard to say something bad about. You know your stuff, better than me, that’s for sure.” 

“My parents taught me,” you said, desperately trying to keep yourself consciousness, but it grew more difficult by the minute. 

“Do they still chase?” he asked. 

“Not much anymore. Sometimes if a storm’s close, they’ll take a drive. But they always say they’ve had their fun.” They also said they shared enough close calls to know it was time to hang it up. You know they worried you’d find yourself in one too, but you’d always been careful and rarely got yourself into a situation you couldn’t get out of, until now, that was. 

Darkness encroached on your vision, threatening to force your eyes closed. Some the backseat, you heard one of the Wrangles call Tyler’s name. He turned his head, but you couldn’t see the concerningly red-soaked shirt that made his stomach churn and caused him to press down on the gas harder. Your head lulled to the side and your eyes fluttered close. Vaguely, you heard Tyler call your name and felt him shake your knee, but you couldn’t open your eyes or open your mouth. Everything fell dark. 

-- 

Tyler had spent his fair share of time in hospitals. He’d been bucked off a bull more than once, resulting in his mother dragging him to the hospital and threatening to make him quit. Eventually she held to her threat when he shattered his nose and gained a nasty concussion. 

Being at the hospital for himself was one thing, being there for you made him realize why his mother used to be drenched in worry. He nervously drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair in the hospital room. You were asleep, a fresh bandage wrapped around your head and with a minor concussion. The cut on the back of your head required a couple stitches; you were lucky, all things considered, but Tyler really hated seeing you like that. 

To him, you’d always been unreal. A second generation storm chaser so accomplished. Not only did you know your stuff, it was clear how much you enjoyed it. You lit up at the sight of storms, and Tyler couldn’t help but be in awe. There was a competitive nature to storm chasing and as much as he wanted to be annoyed by you always being two steps ahead of him, he couldn’t. He was just impressed. 

Tyler wasn’t sure how or when that admiration turned into something that teetered on affection, but it felt more than it had been before seated at your hospital bedside. He’d never felt his stomach drop like that before, when you passed out in his truck, Boone holding a bloodied shirt to you head. Even after the doctor said you’d be just fine, he felt on edge. 

The door to your room was pushed open by a nurse who led in two more people, who he instantly recognized: The Hardings. 

He stood up quickly and watched as your mom rushed to your side, brushing a hand across your cheek with a deep frown. “Oh, baby girl,” she sighed.  

The nurse offered your concerned parents a polite smile. “As the doctor said, the concussion was minor so all she need is some rest for the couple of days to a week. She should wake up soon and we'll see how she’s doing, then the doctor will let you know when she can be discharged.” 

You dad rubbed your mom’s back like he was trying to ease the heavy worry that shined in her face, but he too looked just as worried with a crease across his forehead. 

Tyler lightly cleared his throat, gaining your parents’ attention. "Hello, ma'am, sir," he greeted them.

“You must be the one who brought her in,” Jo said, and Tyler nodded in response. “Thank you. We’d been trying to call her, after we saw that storm, but she never answered and I…I just had a bad feeling.” 

Bill rubbed the light stubble on his chin. “No wonder she’s knocked out; I don’t think you’d get here otherwise. Stubborn, that kid.” 

A found smile spread across Tyler’s lips. “She kept saying she was fine until she nearly passed out on me. We only got a couple miles before she did pass out; scared the life out of me,” he said, running a stressed hand through his hair freed from his hat. The second you passed out in his truck, he nearly broke every traffic law. He wasn’t sure he’d never been quiet that scared, which was something he wasn't sure how to feel about.

Your mom furrowed her brows at Tyler’s words, something glinting behind her eyes until it shined in recognition. “You’re that storm chaser she’s always talkin’ about,” Jo said. “The one online.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Bill said, nodding in Tyler’s direction. He couldn’t tell if it was disdain or indifference in the man’s voice, but Tyler was too hung up on the fact that you talked about him to care much. He didn’t know that filled him with an odd sense of pride and warmth. You two weren’t exactly friends but you were more than acquaintances. It was more like a nice, workplace rivalry that he enjoyed a lot more than he’d admit. 

A small groan sounded from the bed, and everyone turned as your eyes fluttered open. Your mom was quick to your side, speaking quietly under the hum of fluorescent lights. 

You started to mumble something about your truck that Tyler couldn’t quite make out, but your dad seemed to understand immediately. He said he’d take care of it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he headed out into the hall with his cell phone in hand. 

Tyler felt like he overstayed his welcome; you were in better hands with your parents there. He collected his things from the chair, garnering your attention. 

“Tyler,” you said, pushing yourself to sit upright. “Thank you.” 

He smiled. “No problem, doctor. I couldn’t let one of the best chasers be out of the game, now could I?” 

“So you admit it? I’ve got you beat.” 

“I said one of,” he joked. “But you may have one or two legs up on me. Not for long though. I’ll catch up.” 

Something in your smile made him want to sigh in relief, but he held it back. “Not a chance.” 

“Then you better rest up; I’ll see you back out there.” 

Bonus!

It took a little longer for you to bounce back, but the second you felt like yourself again, you were right back at it. Morning was supposed to bright a slew of storms to Kansas, so you and your team hightailed it to the state, finding a cozy little motel already occupied by other storm chasers. You spotted Tyler’s truck instantly, followed by a strange turn of your stomach. 

You hadn’t seen him since you woke up in the hospital, slightly surprised that he stayed with you until your parents arrived. Since then, your mom had managed to bring him up at every opportunity, not so subtly hint at what a pair the two of you would be. You brushed her off, but a small part of you wondered what would happen if you hung around the cowboy a little more. 

“Look who’s back!” Tyler’s voice sounded the second you hopped out of Frankie’s beat-up but sturdy truck; you were saving up for a new one, something even nicer that you could doctor up for chasing. 

He approached you with a beaming smile, flashing his teeth. “I just couldn’t stay away,” you replied. “I didn’t miss anything too crazy, did I?” 

Tyler shook his head. “It seemed like mother nature saved the good ones for you. They’re talkin’ some big ones tomorrow.” The giddy feeling that accompanied storm filled your chest, and the company of Tyler heightened it, strange and new but not completely unwelcome. Maybe it was time you gave into his charm a little more.

[thealexchen]

Why Dontnod's games feel original and inspired (and why Deck Nine's games don't)

So, I've talked at length about how Double Exposure feels much more like a corporate product than a playable piece of art entertainment [My initial thoughts on the DE trailer] [My thoughts on the early access paywall] [My thoughts on the weird marketing].

But now with the release of Lost Records, I feel like I have no choice but to confront the question: were any of Deck Nine's games truly original or inspired in any way? And honestly, I have to say no.

Objectively, I could say it's because Deck Nine literally has not produced any original IP's since their rebrand from Idol Minds in 2017. Their only narrative adventure games are all part of the LiS franchise. But even their most original game, True Colors, pretty obviously follows the first game's narrative formula (young woman with a superpower investigates a sudden disappearance/death in a small town with a dark secret, has two opposite sex love interests, learns about a twist villain, is nearly murdered, and goes through a psychological nightmare in the last episode) to a tee. But oh look, there's also a LARP!

But I believe there's more to it than that, because when I look at Dontnod's games, they are always inspired by other works. Life is Strange 1 plays very clear homage to Twin Peaks with the Pacific Northwest setting and Rachel Amber resembling Laura Palmer. Max Caulfield is named after the protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, another novel about the fleeting innocence of childhood and superficiality of society. Life is Strange borrows tropes from Donnie Darko, Groundhog Day, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stand By Me, and even Blue is The Warmest Color for its themes and plot points. Just take a look at its "Shout-out" page on TV Tropes. And the result is... something completely original, with riveting plot twists, memorable characters, and an ending that will make you cry.

This shouldn't make sense, right? You'd think this big soup of references would turn into an indistinguishable mess of cliches, but Life is Strange managed to be a synthesis of everything the writers loved and were inspired by, to become something completely new. Why? Because nobody had tried to take Twin Peaks, Donnie Darko, and The Catcher in the Rye and turn it into a video game before! And make it gay!

The point being, Dontnod consistently makes original material because they take creative risks. This is definitely not done lightly, since they still need to be a company that generates profit, but they still prioritize making art over selling out. Their stories feel inspired because they are inspired; when writers love what they're writing about, the result is a passion project that has loving, clever nods to all the works that are woven into it.

So perhaps a way to reword that first question is to then ask, "Have Deck Nine's games ever been inspired by anything?" And unfortunately, the answer is still no. Instead, they just copy what they hope will sell well. And a bland imitation for the sake of generating profit is never going to produce anything that feels original.

This takes me back to Lost Records, which is also clearly inspired by the same works: Twin Peaks, It: Chapter One, The Craft, The Blair Witch Project, The Goonies, Stand By Me. But again, no other game studio besides Dontnod has ever looked at these works and thought, "But what if it starred teenage lesbians instead?" Or, more specifically: "How do we capture the spirit of what made these media great and incorporate that into a new story for a new audience?" And those characters have so much thought and care poured into them too: while I've been disappointed that Double Exposure Max looks airbrushed to hell and back, I love that the Bloom & Rage girls have asymmetrical faces, acne, freckles, body hair, skin discoloration, and diverse body types. Double Exposure is marketed as nostalgia bait for fans, where Max is reduced to a prettied-up, polished-up, representation of nostalgia, not even her own character anymore, in a game that otherwise has no connection to the original. Her quips are reduced to "Hey! Remember our good ol', dad-joke cracking, dorky Max Caulfield??" and her grief is shoved aside for "Hey, look at that appealing new love interest! Because we knoooow y'all love your sapphic romance, right?"

By contrast, Lost Records has only been out for 10 days, but I already feel like the girls are some of the most memorable characters I've come across in gaming for the niche they fill. Swann seems like your typical Max-like dork, except she's also a movie buff and giddy about bugs, horror, and the paranormal; and has clearly been affected by her mother's fatphobic beliefs. Autumn is a level-headed leader who always stuck to her desire to help others, and her Blackness naturally informs her desire to feel valued and not cause trouble in a small, very white, conservative town. Nora intrigues me so much for going from a fun-loving rebel punk teen to a more gender-conforming, capitalist-leaning, influencer businesswoman. And Kat feels like an evolution of Chloe's cynicism, where her scrappy charm belies an almost unsettling obsession with the occult and a deep, tragic chasm of rage at having to confront her mortality far too young. They make sense. They feel carefully written, genuine, and like real people.

But most of all, Dontnod's games have never felt like products. In fact, most of their characters have historically gone against the grain of what traditionally "marketable" characters are. The first LiS took all these aforementioned stories about straight white men and chose to remix and retell it through the eyes of a young, queer, time-traveling girl instead. Tell Me Why is the first AAA game with a trans protagonist, and Tyler is voiced by a trans actor in all the language dubs. Lost Records decided that it would tell its story through four queer teenage girls, with women writers onboard, and fucking own it. As long as Dontnod keeps making games that stick to their creative integrity, I'll keep respecting their vision in whatever they decide to create next. Also, maybe I should finally watch Twin Peaks.

Thank you for reading!

[luveline]

can we get coworker James and reader not getting along despite having obvious feelings for each other and not knowing how to say sorry, so they really awkwardly try to play nice? maybe reader apologising with a kiss

coworker frenemies <3 fem, 1.6k

“It’s the wrong file.” 

“Nope. Open it up properly.” 

You roll James’ rugby stress-ball under your hand. “It’s not, I need the Lang and Co test reports from last year, this is dated from April 14th.” 

“That’s because the fiscal year ended on April 6th. If I send you something from before April, that won’t be last year, it’ll be the year before.” 

“No, we still have a month left in this year,” you argue, “so these are from two years ago.” 

You both turn to Remus. He tenses at the sudden silence, pen paused over blue post it notes. “What?” he asks finally. He doesn’t actually need you to repeat yourselves. “If you need a test report from the last fiscal year to cross check the RAS number, then you need one dated before April. We’re in the current fiscal year right now until April again.” 

“See,” James says. 

“That’s what I said, James.” 

“It is not.” 

You roll your shoulders. It’s what you’d thought you were saying. From the look Remus is giving you, James is the correct one, and you’re too confused about the logistics of things to argue your case. You should say Okay, alright, even apologise for getting wound up, but you hate being wrong when it’s with James, it’s like a flinch reflex. “I shouldn’t even be doing this, you’re supposed to double check this stuff before you send it back to me, the RAS number should be printed at the top,” you say with heat. 

“Open the files properly,” James says, almost spits, apparently more wound up than you’d been. As soon as he says it, all his fire burns out. He bites something back, clears his throat, an unarmed emotion on his face as his gaze dips to his coffee. “The RAS numbers are all in the headers. They’re just hard to see.” 

A few weeks ago his spitting retort would’ve made you laugh, or maybe made you want to hit him with your car, but a few weeks ago you didn’t know what it was like to be on James’ right side. You’re aware now of how it feels to have his hand on your shoulder, his smile pressed to the top of your ear. The idea of not feeling it again fills you with dread. 

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I’m sorry,” he says back, sounding three times as awkward. “I shouldn’t have such an attitude. I’m just– hungry or something.” 

You don’t really like being snapped at, but James probably didn’t like being reprimanded for something he’d apparently actually done, so… You’re not sure where you go from here. 

Remus breaks the tension for you kindly. “Look, we don’t have to argue about the Lang and Co anything today, because it’s all properly finished. Finish checking the RAS numbers for the rest of them and then I can go over them after dinner.” 

“I doubt you’ll need to,” you say. 

“I know, but if I don’t and something is wrong, I’ll get the flack for it.” Remus rips a sticky note off of the pad and puts it on his monitor. “It’s alright. I’ll just glance at them.” 

You feel properly chastened, then, and retreat into yourself for a while. You hate feeling like this at work, it’s exactly how you felt when you first started. You haven’t been such a hindrance to their working for months. Your accounting team Smiskis attest to your burgeoning friendship with Remus and your more than that with James, each of them exercising. A week ago, James bought you a museum themed one, a little green figurine that pays homage to the Girl with the Pearl Earring. You’d laughed for ages, only bothering to stop when James had kissed you and asked if you were pleased. 

With the kiss or the Smiski is anyone’s guess. Sometimes you think James might like a performance report from you, a job well done sticker or something, but you don’t know if he’s bad or good or mediocre, he’s just James. He annoys you beyond words and he’s the kindest boy you’ve ever met. 

You work in tepid silence until dinner rolls around and Sirius swings by the desks to retrieve Remus. You’re relieved when James turns down their offer to go with them and quickly follow suit. 

“Will you eat with me?” he asks you. 

Which is nicer than pretending you’re eating together out of coincidence. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Are you done?” he asks, nodding at the computer. 

You click off your monitor. 

Together, you retrieve your Tupperware boxes from the fridge and steal the single sofa in the break room by the window. James cracks it open like you like without having to be asked, and you sit on his left side, close enough to touch him. On your best days you’ll eat thigh to thigh, shifting if someone comes in but otherwise comfortable. Today, the inches between you feel like miles. 

You don’t know what to do. You both said sorry, it’s not like you were furious or anything, but maybe James is more annoyed than he’s letting on? 

You try to think of what you can do as he peels his tangerine. The smell is sudden in the air, fresh, a tad sour now they’re out of season. 

“Do you want some?” he asks. 

You hold your hand out for a piece too early, he’s not done peeling, but he hurries and cleans the white strings of pith from the fruit and passes you two slices stuck together. “There, lovely,” he murmurs. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

There’s nothing really for it, is there? You eat your tangerine and summon your courage, putting your untouched lunchbox on the table and turning in your seat. James turns to look at you too, locking eyes with you, hands paused in his lap with his own slice of tangerine waiting. “What?” he asks carefully, as though worried you have another bone to pick. 

You should ask if you can kiss him, but you can’t make the words form. Your lips feel sticky, citrus still sharp on your tongue. 

Tentatively, your raise a hand to his face. You feel his skin under your thumb, light stubble grazing your palm. Gentle, you work your fingers around the side of his neck and pull him toward you, raising your chin, but keeping your eyes opened. He doesn’t kiss you —James is eager now he knows he’s allowed yet he won’t cross boundaries, he’s careful with the word yes— but he doesn’t pull away. He lets you guide him to your lips. It’s only when his eyes shutter closed that you close your own, lips a hair’s width apart when you manage to say sorry again. “I shouldn’t have made out like you hadn’t done the RAS numbers,” you whisper. 

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You couldn’t have known I’d fixed the Lang and Co one’s already.” 

“I don’t like being mad at you anymore.” 

“Yeah, you do. You just don’t like thinking I’m mad back.” 

Your noses brush. “I don’t… it wasn’t fun for me, James. Us hating each other. You’re not a bad person, but it was quite miserable. I don’t want to go back.” 

“We won’t,” he says, pulling away before your lips can touch. You open your eyes and find him looking right at you. “I didn’t hate you. I didn’t always like you, but I didn’t fully hate you, either, n’ there’s nothing like that to go back to.” 

Being vulnerable is hard. You struggle to find the words. “I’m not saying it’s your fault or anything, I just really don’t want you to not like me again.” 

“I didn’t know you,” he says simply. You’re sure he’s done, but he pulls your hand off of his cheek to hold thoughtlessly to his chest. “And now I do. I can’t not like you anymore.”

“Do you think it’s normal that we still get mad at each other?” 

“Of course it is. Remus and Sirius argue every day, but they always say sorry.” 

You smile weakly. “We did that. Off to a good start.” 

James returns your smile tenfold, grinning as he squeezes your hand. “We’re off to a great start. It’s work that’s the problem, that’s all. Hate the James that’s your coworker and love the James who drives you home, hm?” 

“It’s the coworker one that I ended up really fancying,” you murmur. 

He goes pink with delight. “You fancy me?” 

“You’d hope so.” 

James peers down at your hand and gives it another tender squeezing. “Can I have an apology kiss or something? I felt like it was going that way but I ruined it, and now I’d quite like one.” 

“Can you kiss me?” you ask softly. 

James braces his hand against your shoulder and ducks in to kiss you. Chastely (lest someone see you snogging in the break room and get you written up), but a great kiss all the same. It makes your mouth tingle. It still feels exciting all these kisses later, better when James kisses your cheek and the side of your head in quick succession. 

“I don’t care that we argued,” he says, “I just don’t like how I acted, n’ I love how you look when you’re mad. It’s why I used to wind you up so much.” 

“You still wind me up now.” 

He tips his head to the side. “Exactly.” 

[dovveri]

upskill from student to parent

synopsis: one of your students has the most obvious crush on you, but you have the most obvious crush on his mother.

warnings: swearing? maybe idek AHAHA

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: kind of an homage to my fav person on this app @miinatozakiii ‘s first published work the kindergarten teacher sana 🙂‍↕️ happy late one year anniversary babe 🥰

⋆✐ೀ⋆

“alright kids, don't forget i'm seeing most of your parents tonight so if you want to make a good impression, you better start doing your homework because i know most of you don't!"

there are collective groans across the classroom as they pack up their things and leave, thanking you as they head out the door to their next period.

you giggle, recalling the days you were a student in their position, you rarely did your math homework as well.

"ms. l/n?"

you look up from your desk with a smile.

"i- um- i just wanted to s-say- thank you for this lesson. i was really- um- struggling with derivatives when you introduced them last time but you made it really clear this class."

you beam, appreciating the feedback, "that's great to hear hideki! if you have any more trouble in the future please be sure to let me know, i'll be happy to set up bonus small group classes or even individual sessions if you guys need the help."

"t-thanks ms. l/n. that's really nice of you."

"it's my job hideki." you smile, "did you need any help with anything else?"

he shakes his head shyly, hand at the back of his neck, "that was all! thanks again miss!"

"no worries, i'll see you tonight?"

he agrees happily, darting out the door with his cheeks flushed.

it wasn't the first time a student had had a crush on you. it was normally harmless. some of them had tried to confess to you over the years, usually waiting until after they graduated because they thought it’d be okay if you no longer had a student-teacher relationship. some of them would confess while you were still their teacher regardless, those were a little tougher because you had to continue teaching them and watch them pout and lose motivation to do their schoolwork and act awkward around you, no longer wanting to participate in class or ask questions if they didn’t understand something. you’d try to let them down gently, and if you noticed they were struggling with coursework, you’d pull them aside or ask another one of the teachers to check in on them.

most of the time though, they were just simple little crushes that would pass with time or after they moved out of your class. you didn't entertain them but it was cute seeing your students in their awkward teen years discovering feelings for the first time.

you stretch, yawning, but yelp when someone's finger jabs into your exposed armpit.

there's a burst of laughter and you frown, staring at the intruder.

"really nayeon?"

the english teacher rolls her eyes with a cheeky grin, "saw hideki on the way out. did he give you that confession note?"

"what confession note?"

nayeon hops a little, a hand covering her mouth, "oh shit."

you narrow your eyes. "tell me."

she grins, not really apologetic for having accidentally spilt her student’s secret, "saw him decorating a card and everything in english class today. his grammar was a little off so i just helped him correct it a little. oh ms. l/n. how i wish to be able to call you by your first name. how i wish to be able to hold you and-" she puts on an exaggerated romeo-like voice and pose, back of her hand coming up to her forehead.

you stand up, slapping her lightly with a blush, "why did you encourage him?!"

she shrugs with a laugh, "i'm an english teacher. gotta make sure the kids are using the language right even if it's for illicit love notes."

you huff, packing up your desk and getting ready to go to lunch, "can't he find a nice girl his age to be in love with? i'm sure he has so many options since he's the star player of the school basketball team and everything."

"something about you attracts the kiddies y/n."

you scrunch your nose, "ew. that sounds gross. i don't even like younger men."

"women?"

"no preference. just someone in the same life stage y'know?"

"wait should i be offended? how come no student has ever confessed to me? aren't english teachers supposed to be like a gay girl's awakening?"

you laugh, ignoring the woman's question, dragging her out of your classroom and to lunch together before you both have to attend to your kids again.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you enjoyed your job, but parent-teacher interviews were probably your least favourite part of it. if you wanted to deal with parents all day you'd have become a primary school teacher.

there were all kinds of them, some who didn't show up, some who didn't care, some who cared too much, some who were clueless, and some who thought they could do your job better than you.

you rub your temples, grateful for the little 5 minute break you're afforded in between quick 10 minute interviews that would normally go on for longer than that. you blink around the room, the other mathematics teachers gathered in the same classroom, nayeon was down the hall with the other english teachers. you were the youngest of them all, there was a pretty big shortage of secondary mathematics teachers across the country, so it meant maths teachers were putting off retirement for longer so they can continue to support kids, but it still left a lot of gaps that could be filled to give your students the best education they deserved.

you've dazed off enough that you barely register hideki almost bounding in, still in his basketball uniform from after-school practice.

he grins, sliding into the seat opposite yours, "hi ms. l/n!"

you return the smile, "hey hideki." even though you knew about his obvious crush on you, he was still one of your favourite students, maybe it was because he had the crush on you that he was more eager to follow instructions and to prove himself and ask questions whenever he was confused that made him one of the easiest to teach.

and then a woman in a sleek beige coat next to hideki catches your attention. your gaze flicks over to hers. and it can't seem to break away.

she's the most beautiful human being you've ever laid your eyes on. her hair is dyed an autumn brown, wavy locks tucked behind ears, expensive gold jewelry adorning her neck, ears, hands. her eyes match the colour of her hair, a deep fawn brown you could stare into for hours. she's got the most perfect nose you've ever seen, you almost itched to measure it, find the angle of it, the way it led to her pretty lips, full and parted, inviting, pulling you in. and then you realise they're curling up slightly, and you snap your eyes back up to hers to see a mirthful glint in them.

you cough, blushing brightly, "h-hello mrs. hayashi."

"just sana is fine. minatozaki sana. i never married hideki’s father." her voice is silky smooth, there's a certain drawl to it too, it makes you want to listen to her voice on repeat, teasing out every inflection in tone.

you can feel your blush reaching the tips of your ears, "o-oh sorry! i didn't know i apologise!"

sana laughs, it's bright and airy, you don't think you've heard anything purer. "nothing to be sorry about. we broke up a long time ago. when hideki was still very young."

you nod, deciding you can't continue staring at her or you may just faint, so you look down at your files, shuffling them around with no purpose, just to give your hands something to do.

"so how's hideki doing in class?" you can hear the smirk in her voice, her attentive eyes watching as you fumble around.

"he's um- very good- he always makes sure to ask questions whenever he's stuck on anything, and he's probably one of my only students who keeps up with his homework."

"well that's good isn't it deki? what were you so nervous for?" sana teases her son as he blushes, mumbling something under his breath.

you speak up again, "nothing to be nervous about. hideki is one of my best students, he keeps up very well despite his extra curriculars."

sana snorts, "i wish we could say the same about his other subjects. it seems maths is the only thing he tries in."

"mom!"

"what? you heard what your english teacher said. you need to spend some more time editing your own work than you do shooting hoops."

you laugh, "i'm sure his english is alright. nayeon can be a pretty harsh teacher."

sana looks at you again with an eyebrow raised, you quickly look away. "just wait until you read some of his work ms. l/n. you'll be surprised."

hideki blushes again, deciding he won't be giving you that love confession note he has in his bag after all.

"is there anything else i can do for him then? any particular areas he may be struggling in or any recommendations of what we can implement at home to make sure his maths marks stay consistent?"

"homework really. maths is a very practical subject so the more practice he gets the better grasp he'll have. especially with strange or out-of-the-box questions exams may throw at him; it helps a lot if he's practiced with as many question varieties as possible, most people are going to get those 1 or 2 markers, but the bigger questions that really need you to apply the concepts you learn are where you'll start to see distinctions between the students that just study and the students that really have the aptitude and patience for mathematics."

"never was me." sana jokes.

you smile, still avoiding her gaze, your cheeks pink, "i'm sure you would have been a prize student ms. minatozaki."

"just sana." she has a teasing smile on her face.

"r-right. sana."

it's quiet for a few seconds, hideki looks between his mother and you, squinting a little in confusion.

sana coughs, beginning to stand and holding out a hand, "well it was nice meeting you ms. l/n. i can finally understand why hideki goes on and on about his gorgeous maths teacher."

"mom!"

you blush again, taking her hand, almost melting at how soft it felt against yours, forcing yourself to meet her eyes again to be polite. you have to bring your other hand to hold your wrist when you shake it, to support your jelly-like arm in her presence. "it was nice meeting you too sana."

she tightens her grip, smirking a little, "i hope this won't be the last i'll be seeing you. have a good night."

and with that she's off, hideki whining and complaining next to her about how she's embarassed him. it was a little funny considering their height difference, hideki was a basketball player so he had to be tall for his sport, and sana was just a few centimetres shorter than you, though her aura commanded attention, her posture was perfect, you're caught staring at the slight sway in her hips as she walks away, but you quickly reprimand yourself, blushing even brighter at having realised you were just checking out your student's parent.

god she had your mind a mess, and you had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time for this to happen.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you were so out of your comfort zone. you barely knew anything about basketball. but nayeon just had to drag you to be co-supervisors for your school's basketball team since you didn’t have the funds for a real P.E. teacher. even worse, the parent volunteer just happened to be minatozaki sana, the parent you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since your first meeting with her weeks ago.

nayeon noticed your odd behaviour immediately of course. so being the annoyingly loveable best friend she was, she made herself scarce, herding the kids away with every opportunity and trying to get you and sana alone as much as possible.

that’s how you were now stuck with the woman of your dreams, sharing a hotel room in the place you were staying for the duration of the games.

“are you sure you don’t want me to get another room? the individual room was originally supposed to be meant for you- i can’t believe nayeon let herself get sick and stole it from you.”

sana giggles, plopping down her weekend bag. “it’s alright ms. l/n. i don’t mind sharing rooms with a pretty woman like you.”

you blushed brightly. that was the other problem with sana. she was a flirt. every chance she got she’d make some sort of teasing remark on the way here, or brush a little too close than what was acceptable for friends, and you were barely even friends.

“j-just y/n is fine. i feel weird if someone my age is calling me by my last name like that.”

“how do you know i’m your age?” she smirks.

“o-oh! i just- i mean- i- i’m in my early 30s and you look quite young and but hideki is already 16 so i just assumed um-“

she laughs again, “thank you for the compliment. you’re right. i had hideki when i was 19. his dad promised to take care of him, provide for us, y’know… all the works. he couldn’t take it and left not even a year into hideki’s life. i ended up having to drop out of university and learn to balance work and a baby. my parents weren't any good either, said it was my fault for getting knocked up so early in my life and that i should've been prepared for the consequences."

you perch on the end of your bed, listening attentively while she unpacks her things, "i'm sorry you had to go through that."

she shrugs, "made me who i am today. and plus i have hideki now. and he'll always have me. what about you? any kids? partner?"

you blush as she turns back to you, copying your stance and sitting on her bed facing you. "no. i’ve always been around kids so there’s not exactly a ton of romantic prospects.” you joke.

sana laughs, “what about nayeon?”

you cringe immediately, “ew gross no. we’re just friends. there aren’t that many young teachers that aren’t already married and who aren’t spread all over the country so nayeon and i easily clicked because we’re similar in age and single. not that it’s difficult to get along with the older teachers there’s just some things that we’ll be able to do that they might not necessarily want to anymore… like drink or whatever.”

“are you looking for anyone then?” there’s a smirk on sana’s face that you know can only mean she’s up to no good.

“u-um- well- i mean- uh- like if it comes it comes i’m not actively looking for it. i’m happy with the kids even if i die old and alone because there’s always going to be more kids to teach so i’m never really going to be alone unless i quit or get fired.”

“i really admire teachers y’know. you can take care of a classroom of kids and offer them knowledge when someone like my ex boyfriend couldn’t even handle one child.”

while you were talking, you didn’t even notice that sana had moved onto your bed, sitting next to you, shoulders touching, eyes peering into yours.

you chuckle awkwardly, “w-well i’m actually not that great with younger kids.”

sana frowns, “don’t do that. bringing yourself down to defend a shitty man are both things i don’t want to hear. from what i’ve seen, you love your job and you really care about your kids. you should be proud of that. teachers don’t get enough of the appreciation they should.”

“t-thank you sana.”

“of course.”

it’s quiet after that, and more than awkward. you have no idea where to look, suddenly conscious of her body pressed against yours, fiddling with your hands, feeling sweat build up.

sana just watches you with a glint in her eye, observing all of your actions.

she breaks the tension that seemingly came out of nowhere first, “how do you feel about me?”

your eyes widen, not expecting such a straightforward question, “s-sorry?”

“you’re nervous. do i make you nervous y/n?”

your blush was pretty much permanently fixed on your face now.

“u-um-“

“it’s okay if i do. i just hope it's for the right reasons." she pouts. it's criminal. "you'd tell me if there was something else right?"

"r-right! yes of course yes-"

"good. so you're nervous because you find me attractive?" her pout morphs into a smirk within nanoseconds.

"um- i-"

"you said you'd tell me if it was something else remember?" and then she's straight back into a pout. it was giving you whiplash, the change in expressions, dizzying you.

"um- i- yes- you are- yes you are very pretty and-"

"so you want to kiss me?"

"um-!"

sana finally lets you go, laughing brightly and moving away to give you some space before you burst or melted.

"just joking y/n. i'm sorry you're just too easy to tease and your reactions are adorable!"

you can breathe again, the oxygen finally reaching your brain now that sana wasn't so close to you, and your lips turn downward, imitating her pout from earlier, "sana!"

she continues laughing, going back to unpacking her things while you collect yourself and think just how you were going to survive the two days away sharing a room with the potential love of your life who also happened to be a massive tease.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

thankfully, the rest of the night was pretty uneventful. you checked in on all the boys, made sure they had all had dinner and weren't planning anything irresponsible like a party behind your backs or anything. you also checked in on nayeon who in your professional opinion, looked absolutely fine, having ordered room service and was in one of the hotel robes with her feet kicked up enjoying a face mask and a bottle of wine all to herself.

sana also didn't try anything else when you retired to your own hotel room after doing the rounds on the boys' rooms again to make sure they were all in bed and getting the rest they needed before their game tomorrow. you're not sure if you were grateful or disappointed she didn't, but you quickly pushed her out of your mind, needing to rest as well before having to wake up early to take all the kids to the stadium.

you're knocking loudly on the last room you were meant to check on, annoyed the boys were taking so long, you were all meant to meet in the lobby 10 minutes ago for your bus to the stadium.

when you sigh, prepared to rap your knuckles against the door again, it falls away, revealing a distressed hideki and his roommate for the trip.

"ms. l/n! i'm so sorry we're late eric had some trouble um-" he looks behind him, "we're pretty much ready now! just got to grab some last minute stuff and-" he leaves the door open, continuing his ramble while you cross your arms, tapping your foot impatiently, watching the boys run around the room collecting last minute things and throwing them into gym bags.

by the time they're almost done, sana's snuck up behind you, peeking over your shoulder.

"deki! what are you doing? are you the one holding everyone up? what kind of example are you setting for your team if the team captain's late?"

you jump at her voice, not having noticed her standing right behind you. you turn, admiring her side profile, she's got her hair up today, but still looks as expensive as the first time you saw her.

hideki blushes at his mom yelling at him, picking up his pace a little and jabbing eric, telling him to hurry up.

sana notices you staring at her and turns with a smile, "hi y/n. missed you this morning."

you fluster immediately, snapping your eyes away, "u-um sorry! i uh- got up early and didn't want to wake you and decided to get breakfast early on my own before making sure all the kids were awake."

she pouts, "you should've woken me. we could've had breakfast together."

"s-sorry i'll remember for next time."

"next time? you planning on waking up next to me again y/n?"

you can hear the teasing tone in her voice without needing to look at her, "i meant tomorrow! tomorrow morning."

sana giggles next to your ear, relenting when hideki and eric finally finish up, slightly out of breath when they come up to you, hideki apologising to you profusely, almost bowing down in the hotel hallway while holding all his heavy gym bags before you stop him, embarrassed enough by his mother watching the interaction closely with a curious glint in her eyes.

by the time you get downstairs nayeon already has most of the kids on the bus, reprimanding the two late boys again before letting them go and telling them to get on the bus as well. she had claimed her sickness was miraculously cured overnight, and that all she needed was a good night's sleep in a hotel room by herself.

she had teased both you and sana, asking sana innocently if she'd want to change rooms again now that she wasn't sick, but sana had said it'd be too much work and she didn't mind sharing a room with you anyway. nayeon elbowed you making an exaggerated show of her eyebrows wriggling around when sana wasn't looking, winking and looking all too satisfied with herself. you ignored her, strutting ahead and onto the bus, crossing your arms and pouting.

sana comes up next, giggling at you and plopping down on the seat next to yours. thankfully, the bus ride to the stadium wouldn't take long this time, the ride here was almost 5 hours long, and sana had taken a liking to sleeping on your shoulder almost the entire way there. you were stiff and couldn't wait to fall into bed when nayeon pulled her sick move and ruined your plans of being able to relax, not possible in the presence of the other woman.

the kids are rowdy and energetic, hyping each other up on the bus. you have to tell them to quieten down a few times but you let them get away with most of what they do, smiling at the sight of them so eager for their game.

when you arrive, nayeon's the first to stand, using her loud voice and commanding attention, her voice that should've been at least a little hoarse from her apparent sickness yesterday.

"alright! remember you're representing your school district now! and you're sharing this space with other people so i don't want to hear you guys as loud as you were on this bus okay? i won't hesitate to bench anyone who fools around too much and that means you won't get to play and you'd have come all this way for nothing understand?"

nayeon really was strict as a teacher, but you knew she loved her job as much as you did.

the kids nod, determined to be good, adrenaline running from the excitement of almost getting to the court.

you step off the bus first, talking to the bus driver and letting them know when they can come back and pick you guys up to go back to the hotel. then the kids are hopping off the bus one by one, and you're making sure they don't run off or do anything stupid while waiting for everyone to assemble.

by the time the team is actually on the court and warming up, you're almost as excited as them, the atmosphere of the stadium hyping you up, sitting on the sidelines with towels and water bottles ready for their breaks. you had tried to study up a little on what exactly went on in basketball, the rules and the basics, the kids may not have a coach but you still wanted to be as supportive as you could even though your job only required you to supervise them safely between the venues and the hotel.

"have you come to a lot of these games?" you ask sana mindlessly, watching as the boys start doing practice shots and drills.

"yeah. i try to go to as many of deki's things as i can."

"that's very sweet. it's really good for the kids, when the parents show up to things they work hard for."

sana hums. "i try."

"he's lucky to have you."

"i think he may appreciate you a little more though." she teases, bumping shoulders with you.

you laugh, "he'll get over it. they all do."

"this has happened before?"

you shrug, "i swear i don't do anything out of the ordinary. maybe i'm just nicer than nayeon."

"so your type obviously isn't kids. what is it?" sana teases.

you blush, "i don't know. i don't really have one i think."

"oh come on. everyone says that. tell me the truth. i won't judge i promise."

you roll your eyes, smiling, "well... i think at this point in my life i just want someone who wants to settle down. i'm not that young anymore and i've already achieved what i wanted in my career so all i really want now is someone to share the rest of my life with."

"boring! c'mon gimme the juicy stuff. like personality, physical attributes." she pokes you with a grin on her face as well.

"fine fine. i guess when it comes to women i tend to like slightly older women, extroverted, good with kids obviously, i don't reaaaally care for all the physical stuff but probably someone around my height i guess."

"stand up for me."

you do as she asks, confused, then she stands up as well, stepping in almost eye-to-eye. you flush immediately. she brings her hand to measure the top of her head, knocking it against your forehead.

then she smirks, "so i'm pretty much your type then?"

you stutter, falling backwards and back into your seat, mumbling incoherently. sana giggles, sitting back down as well.

"if it's any consolation, my type in women tends to be slightly taller, good with kids, a little awkward, gets flustered easily, but loves her job."

you blink at her, still processing her words when the buzzer sounds signaling the start of the game.

sana winks, then turns her attention to the game, cheering on your school's team as they get in starting position. nayeon jogs over to join you both on the sideline bench, cheering as well. you put your muddled thoughts aside to focus on being there for the kids, but sana's confession? was it even a confession? never left the back of your mind.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

your school won. the boys are ecstatic, clapping each other on the back, streamers are thrown, the crowd is wild, loving the game they witnessed.

eventually, the stadium clears out while the boys cooldown. the janitors come and kick everyone off the floor soon enough, the kids still whooping and parading around their championship trophy, taking pictures with smiles all around.

you smile fondly as well, watching them leave the stadium, so proud of themselves. but then there's a cough behind you, and you turn, surprised to see hideki still there, not leading his team off on their victory lap.

"you okay hideki?"

the boy blushes, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, still in his team uniform, sweat running down his body.

"i um- i was actually wondering if we could talk?"

you frown, immediately concerned, "yeah of course. what's up?"

his eyes flit around, making sure the stadium is pretty much empty except for the janitors cleaning up after the game. and then he looks back at you, you're struck then how much he looks like sana, he has her nose, her eyes, you never noticed before but after spending more time with sana, you can start to see parts of her in her son.

he clears his throat again, obviously nervous, wringing his hands out, "u-um- so i promised myself that if we won this game, i'd finally be truthful to both myself and you. so um- ms. l/n... i think i'm in love with you!" he bows deeply with his confession.

you stand there, slightly in shock despite knowing about his feelings for a long time now. and then you feel terrible, having to reject him on what was supposed to be one of the highlights of his high school experience.

you tap his shoulder lightly, non-verbally asking him to straighten up, he flinches at the touch, eyes fierce when they meet yours.

"hideki... i'm sorry. i don't feel the same way about you. you're my student, i care about all of you equally, but never as more than a student."

his face breaks your heart, you see sana in him, it's almost like you made sana cry.

"is it my age? what if i graduated? would you be interested in me after i graduated?" he's desperate, reaching for any possibility where you could return his feelings.

you shake your head, offering a gentle smile, "i'm sorry hideki. i know you'll find the right person for you one day though. that person just isn't going to be me."

his head droops down, hair coming to cover his eyes as he stares down at his shoes, trying to hide his tears. "i understand. thank you for taking the time to listen to me ms. l/n. i'll get out of your hair now." and then he's jogging off behind you towards the exit.

you sigh, turning around, surprised to see sana there, frowning when she sees hideki in tears approaching her.

she looks between him and you in confusion, but hideki reaches her first. she cups his face, asking him what happened, but he refuses to speak, and sana brings him down into her hugging him and patting his back.

she glances at you then, still frowning. your heart sinks, not sure what sorts of conclusions she could be drawing, but knowing right now, it looked like you had said or done something that made her son cry.

she leads him away, you ache to tell her what really happened, but you know you should keep your distance for the sake of your student right now, you just pray sana doesn't think of you any differently.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

the rest of the day goes by in a blur. the boys go out for celebratory dinner. they notice their captain is a lot more down than usual, and they try cheering him up, playing games at dinner, laughing and teasing each other, but nothing seems to be working.

you couldn't help but feel a little guilty, and sana hadn't spoken to you since the game. you're not sure if it's on purpose or if she's just busy keeping the kids entertained and checking on hideki every once in a while, but not wanting to smother him with all his friends around. he doesn't seem to mind though, in fact he only responds to sana, even when his friends try and include him he stays quiet, picking at his food aimlessly.

when you get back to the hotel, you give a speech about how they shouldn't sleep too late even though you could understand their excitement still remaining from winning the championships, they still had to get up early tomorrow so you could take the bus back home. nayeon would normally give the speech since she was a little more threatening than you, but she was also currently wasted, having gone a little too hard on the celebrations with the boys. she was currently leaning on you, almost dozing off as you rattled off instructions and rules before sending them all off to their rooms.

sana's gone with them before you can speak to her, so you sigh, wrapping an arm around nayeon's waist and helping your friend back to her own room, setting her in bed and pulling the covers up, turning off the lights and leaving a cup of water next to her bedside for when she wakes up later.

you feel nervous going back to your own room, unsure of what sana thinks of you now.

you open the door, almost grateful to hear the shower on, indicating the other woman was cleaning herself up.

you anxiously start packing your things up, cleaning around the room a little and grabbing clothes for your shower.

the shower turns off and your heart rate increases tenfold. you still have some time before she comes out though, so you continue to busy yourself, cleaning anything and everything.

"y/n?"

you turn quickly at her voice, almost fainting at the sight of her wrapped only in a towel. you yelp, turning back around just as quickly, "s-sorry!"

sana giggles, padding up to her bed, "it's okay. i left my clothes out here."

you can hear the rustle of her towel being dropped and her starting to dress yourself. your face is burning up, trying desperately to clear your mind of thoughts of a very naked sana standing right behind you, probably watching you make a fool out of yourself.

"i'm dressed." she teases, plopping down onto her bed.

you turn with a sigh, but tense up when you realise her definition of dressed was a very thin camisole and shorts that really shouldn't be considered shorts.

sana smirks at your gaze, crossing her legs and watching the way your eyes follow the movement, drinking in the skin.

"so what happened with you and deki?"

your eyes snap back up to hers at the reminder, the guilt of it all coming back.

"i'm sorry- i didn't- i hope you know i didn't mean to-"

sana giggles, grabbing the towel to start drying her hair, "relax y/n. i figured as much. he wouldn't tell me what happened but i assume it had something to do with his feelings for you?"

you gulp, nodding, not trusting your voice.

"like you said at the game, he'll get over it."

"you're not mad at me?"

she frowns, "why would i be mad at you?"

"well i- i thought you were avoiding me at dinner and- i mean i did just reject your son-"

sana lets out a loud laugh, "i think i'd be more mad if you didn't reject him. and i wasn't avoiding you. were you looking for my attention y/n?" she teases, wringing out her hair.

"oh. i'm glad then. that you weren't avoiding me. i was worried." you mumble, ignoring her question, knowing she was just trying to get a reaction out of you.

she stands up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, walking up to you slowly. "why were you worried?"

you focus on a spot on the hotel carpet, avoiding her gaze, "i didn't want you to think i was- i don't know- i just didn't want you to think of me differently i guess."

"why do you care what i think of you?"

you blush, "well- i mean- i- you're- you're a parent of my student."

sana hums, still moving closer at a painfully slow pace, "is that all i am to you?"

"uh- well- no... you're um- you're sana."

she giggles, now toe-to-toe with you. "i am."

you almost let out a gasp when her cool fingers touch your chin, tilting your head up slightly to look her in the eyes. her eyes search yours, then they move over your face, tracing your features. you lick your lips unconsciously, the tension between the two of you unable to be explained by a simple parent-teacher relationship, or even a friendship anymore.

"it's funny." her voice is lower now, spoken right onto your lips, there was no need for volume, you were only inches apart. "i almost wonder if my ex would've fallen for you too."

you're dizzy from being so close to her, mind playing catch up. "t-too?"

"yeah. hideki fell for you. i wonder if you could just have my whole family wrapped around your finger."

you gulp, not really following, just letting her do whatever she wanted to you.

she leans in even closer, eyes dropping to your lips.

"what about me?"

"w-what about you?"

"you rejected deki. how about me?"

you inhale shakily, "are you confessing?"

she smiles then, "was it not obvious?"

"no." you breathe out.

"why not?"

"you're too- you're unbelievable."

"what does that mean?"

"i literally can't believe you're real. that someone as perfect as you could exist."

sana giggles lowly at that, "there it is. do you know how long i've been waiting for you to just say how you feel about me?"

"w-what?"

"all that teasing, all the flirting, i paid nayeon to fake sick y'know?"

"you what?!"

she throws her head back, laughing fully now. your eyes follow the lines of her throat.

"deki talked about you all the time at home. i was curious to meet the maths teacher he was so obsessed with. and then i did. and you were just so adorable. i could tell you really loved what you were doing, and you really cared for all the kids. but i didn't want to ask you out in front of my son who has the biggest most obvious crush on you. so i resigned myself to thinking i probably wouldn't be able to see you again. and then you happened to be on this trip. so i tried everything i could to get closer to you, get to know you better, and you didn't disappoint. i can safely say i'm just as obsessed with you as hideki is, dare i say even more."

"y-you are?"

"mhm. and i knew you liked me too. you're almost as obvious as deki is." she giggles, "i was just waiting for you to do something about it. but you're too nice aren't you? didn't want anything that could be between us to affect your job and your relationship with the kids."

you hadn't even noticed sana had paid so much attention to you. she had picked you apart completely, you felt so exposed in front of her now, but it wasn't unwelcome, you were just embarrassed at the way you've acted around her, thinking how many times you've replied dumbly or said something stupid while she knew you had a crush on her. you cringe at the memories.

sana laughs again, poking at the scrunch in your nose, "so can you say it officially now?"

"say what?"

"don't play dumb with me. you know."

you whine, blushing still, but close your eyes, taking a breath again, "i like you sana. i think you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen and your personality and actions are just as consistent with your looks."

sana giggles again, and then all of a sudden, her lips are pressed against yours.

it's soft, sweet, she's curling a hand around your waist and the other around your neck. you weren't the greatest with words, that's why nayeon was the english teacher, but you try make up for it with your actions, pulling her into you deeper and wrapping your arms around her, smiling into the kiss.

sana returns the smile, reattaching your lips, kissing you easily, your lips slotting together with no rush, taking as much time as you wanted to explore each other.

that night, when you come out of your shower, you find sana curled up in your bed, patting the empty space next to her for you to squeeze into, making sure she had enough space so that she wouldn't fall off the edge. you find that she's a big cuddler, not that it should've surprised you, she was always a very physically affectionate person, and you were still getting used to being on the receiving end of all of it, but you adored it.

the next morning, you'll keep to your promise and wake sana up with a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing her hair out of her face and studying her sleeping features carefully, committing everything to memory, still in slight disbelief that such a woman felt the same way you did.

you talk over breakfast, finding yourself much more at ease now that you knew she knew how you felt about her. she still takes every opportunity to tease you though, loving the way you blushed and stuttered around her.

what's hard is deciding what to do after you get home. you still wanted to keep your distance from hideki so that he could get over you, and sana agreed, saying it would be best if the both of you kept your relationship a secret for now. she was almost excited, talking about how it would be exciting and fun to sneak around like kids again, having to hide your relationship.

she's right of course, but being with her specifically probably makes it ten times harder than it normally would. she'd come to your school with bunches of flowers and lunch, acting innocent and surprised when you have to hide her and find an empty classroom for you to spend the lunch date she springs on you. she'll never stop loving to tease you.

you finally tell hideki about 2 months into your relationship. he seems to take it okay, but when you're curled up in sana's bed later, she tells you he complained to her about how she 'stole his woman', and you both end up in a giggling fit, laughing at the turn of events. regardless, you're still grateful, grateful you were able to meet her, and somehow bewitch her into falling for you. you were the luckiest person alive, and only sana would disagree, saying that was only true for herself.

[juletheghoul]

greedy

a/n: I cannot be stopped at this point, this man brings out the WHORE in me and I have happily accepted my fate lol. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a constant source of love and support and for contributing so much to this world, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus being a total glutton for your greed over him, creampie, heavy possessive feelings from you because lets be REAL, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

His house was in order, and that was mostly thanks to you. 

Since your return to Rome, and the villa, he has been busy. Mostly, it’s been a parade of high ranking officials, members of the noble families making their pilgrimage to pay homage to the ‘Saviour of Rome’.

He despised it.

With all of the ferocity within him, he despised it. You could see it in his visage, in the clench in his jaw when they’d come to call. The way the normally confident expression in his eyes, faltered and focused on his sandaled feet. If he hadn’t been the person he was, you might have laughed. But he was, and so you didn’t. 

After a few weeks it inevitably died down, and the whole house seemed to take a deep breath, it wasn’t to last though. Just as the air seems to settle, someone comes calling, someone very important. 

“Lavinia–” She is a true beauty, of high Roman birth and the daughter to one of the most influential men in Rome, just a step below the Emperor himself. “You honour me…” He is at a loss for words as she floats into the halls of his house. His eyes find yours but you don’t need him to say a word, within a moment you’re flitting towards the other attendants, and within the span of a few breaths, his table is laid out with enough food and wine to impress even one as fine as her. 

“I have caught you unawares have I not?” She giggles and the sound is almost calculated to ensnare, the jewels at her throat and dangling from her ears glinting almost as brightly as her eyes “I am glad to see I am not vying with anyone else for your attention, I wanted you all to myself this day.” He leads her to his table, and sends everyone out of the room but you. 

“Yes, well.” He clears his throat, and already you can feel him closing up, hiding behind his mask of courtesy. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

You stand behind his chair at the ready, and watch her cast her spell on him, silently. 

“Does one such as me need a reason to visit with you General Marcus? Surely with your victory you’d have a steady parade of young, quite available women marching through your halls, fighting tooth and nail to catch your eye.” She shook out her long blonde waves, subtly, but not so subtly angling herself in the most flattering way. “You are unmarried and unattached as of yet, all of Rome knows it.” She bites her lip, appealing to him in the way beautiful women always appeal to men and it shocks you to feel the unfamiliar stab of anger in your belly. 

He grunted, noncommittally. 

“I have come to…speak of such things.” She stretched towards him like a cat, picking a grape from the platters on the table, and nibbling at it softly, her lips the colour of ripe pomegranates. “If you would care to hear them, of course.” 

He has no interest in marriage, he cares too much for his time alone, he will tell you to leave–

“I will, of course, listen to whatever you have to say, Lavinia.” If you hadn’t been as experienced with him, you would have gasped. Instead, you stood there, trying with all your might to keep the shock off your face, and the tremble out of your hands. “Wine.” He spoke the word clearly, and it pulled you out of your shocked anger behind him. With a practiced hand, you poured for him, and then moved quickly to pour for her. 

You don’t catch his eye, but you feel it on you, no doubt noting the furrow in your brow,  tracking you, as you make your way back to your place behind him. You let go of a deep, steadying breath and for a moment you could swear on all of the Gods you see him smile over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. 

“Let us speak of them then.” She claps her hands together happily, “My father would have come to speak to you sooner or later, but I thought it best to test the waters myself, without the scrutiny of his eye.” She leans towards him again, elbows on his table, holding her delicate face in her hands and even you have to admit, it’s masterful. The jewels on her fingers only enhance the hue of her eyes. She takes advantage of the cut of her dress, the calculated pieces of flesh she has on display, and how cunningly she uses them is something to behold. You look down at the simple tunic you wear, the uniform of your station and all at once, you feel beneath her, beneath everyone. 

“And what would your father have to say to me, I believe you are more than capable of making a case for yourself. You strike me as the sort of woman that gets what she wants.” His tone is different, he sounds almost interested and it’s a dagger through your heart. 

Steel yourself, you are nothing but a slave, no matter how many times he buries himself inside you. You are what’s available, until he finds another, equal to him. 

She giggles, tickled, but unsurprised that he seems to be responding to her charms. 

“I do get what I want, in the end.” She smiles, and it is truly lovely, “and what I want is you.” 

“Shall I fetch more wine Dominus?” You step beside him, whispering with a tremble in your voice, hoping, wishing, praying to all of the Gods that he’ll spare you from this torment. 

“No.” A soft word, and your stomach turns. You step back silently. “I am surprised you have come to me, I am sure there are armies of men ready to fight to the death for you, why am I the one you want”

“Oh come now Marcus, you have just led our army in a great victory, the streets cry out your name, the Emperor himself has thanked you for your service, you are the most desired man in all of Rome, you know this.” She brushes his question off, “I can raise you up higher still, to the very halls of the Senate, should you wish it.” 

“The Senate? And what would I do in the Senate? I am no politician, I am quite content where I am.” He smiles for her benefit, and you do your best to remain impartial, and invisible. 

Unfeeling. Unmoving.

“It is an option, should you want it.” She reiterates, “Now, what do you say of this match? What are your thoughts?” She picks more food off the plates, completely confident. 

“I will say this, you honour me greatly,” She smiles, licking at the tips of her delicate fingers, “It is a lot to consider, and I would be grateful if I could have some time to think, send you word of my final decision once I’ve had time to settle back into civilian life.” He bows his head to her and she responds in kind, seemingly pleased with his response. 

She stays longer than the others, and he entertains her to her heart's content, sharing the less violent stories from the war he’d just won and letting her have her fill of his food and hospitality, and you stand behind him. Listening to it all. Until she grows tired and tells him she must depart. 

“I look forward to hearing your answer, don’t make me wait too long.” She smiles, pressing forward and kissing his cheeks boldly. 

“It was lovely to see you, please give your father my greetings. Be safe.” 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the air in the room felt thin and for a moment, your thoughts clouded your awareness. 

“You are angry.” His voice cuts through your reverie, making you jump where you stand at his table, setting it to rights. 

“Dominus?”

“Speak plainly, girl. You are displeased with Lavinia coming here, offering herself to me.” He stares at you, his eyebrow raised from his place on his favoured chair. 

“I, I have no cause, no reason–” You stumble over your words, wringing your hands to stay obedient.

“Yes you do. She comes into this house, this house that has been your home for a long time, and asks to make it her own. She would be your Domina, and that angers you.” He speaks with a smile in his voice, his eyes shining with the novelty of your misplaced, and maybe grossly inappropriate anger. 

“I, Dominus–your will is my will, whatever you command–” He raises his hand and for a moment you see a flicker of anger. 

“Speak truthfully now, girl. I see the rage on your face. I feel it in your gaze. I will hear the truth, tell me how you feel.” He narrows his eyes for a moment, and you know he wants to hear the truth. 

“I hate it.” You let go of a deep breath, steadying yourself for the wrath of insolence but it never comes, instead, he smiles. 

“I would hear your reasons.”

“I–I would not have her come here. I would not have her marry you. I have no wish to call her Domina or have her order me away from you. I… I would keep you all to myself,” his smile widens, “Dominus.”

He gestures for you to come closer, and you do, until you stand before him. 

“Would you now?” You stand in the space between his legs, watching the way his eyes dilate to hear you speak of keeping him. 

“Yes Dominus, I would have you all to myself, I would not have her keeping your bed warm.” You seethe at the thought of it, to hear him having her, the way he has you makes your blood boil and he smiles bigger still, his eyes crinkling with the mirth of it. 

“Tell me, my fearsome girl, how greedy you are that you cannot share your Dominus with another.” His hands slide up the backs of your legs, slipping up to cup your backside while your hands land onto his shoulders. 

“I am greedy, I cannot share you Dominus, I will not.” You press yourself closer to him, your fingers threading through his graying curls. “I could not bear to hear you with her.”

“Hmm. You want my cock all for your own, is that it? Only you are fit for the gift of my seed? Tell me.” He pulls your tunic up, and off, stripping you of everything until you stand bare before him. “Only you, and this sweet little cunt, hm? Is that the way of it?” He presses kisses to your belly as he speaks and all at once the anger is gone and replaced with a hunger that only he can satisfy. 

“Yes Dominus, only me-” You pull his face up and claim his mouth, moaning into it at the feeling of his hand cupping your sex. 

“Take it then, girl, take what so clearly belongs to you, what you would keep all to yourself.” 

You waste no time in stripping him bare, relishing to see the way his cock stands at attention for you, and not for the other woman. You ache at the sight of it, the proof of your desire for him dripping onto your thighs in your haste to mount him and when you finally feel him notch his cock at the mouth of your cunt, you practically drop yourself onto it. 

He groans to feel the way you clench around him, the two of you breathing heavily into each other's faces, adjusting to the way his cock seems to kiss your womb. 

“Is this what you wanted, girl?” He bucks up underneath you, and your breasts bounce in his face, mesmerizing him enough to make him do it again. “To claim me like this? Tell me–is this cock yours? Am I yours?” He bounces you again and it’s hard to focus on anything but the fullness of him, the way you feel the pleasure of it lights up every nerve in your body. 

“Yes, yes Dominus, mine–” Your fingers grasp his hair tightly and with every flex of his hips, you roll yours, grinding the pleasure center of your universe against the coarse hairs at the base of his sex. “Your cock is mine, only mine.” he lets out a filthy moan to hear it, and your nipples harden. 

“It is yours, take it, Gods, take it all–” He cannot seem to control himself, quicker and quicker he flexes, until your arousal drenches his lap and the sounds between your legs are wet and obscene. 

“Harder please Dominus, I want it harder–” You hold onto his shoulders, rolling your hips faster and within a moment, he moves forward, placing you on the plush carpet at his feet. Once on the floor, his hips piston and the sounds of your coupling ring out through the room. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, your legs seizing up on his hips, and pulling a scream from your throat. He groans, feeling the way you squeeze around him, the force of your climax milking his cock dry. 

“God's girl, you have knocked the wind from me.” He breathes hard in your ear, pressing his lips to your mouth before moving his kisses down your throat, peppering them across your chest. His tongue licks at one nipple, then the other, making you flutter around him. 

A few moments pass, and although you are comforted by his weight, you don’t want to overstep. He forestalls you though. 

“Come girl, I would have this place set to rights, and retire to bed.” He pulls out with a hiss, moving up and away, “I would have you tell me of your anger, in depth, in my chambers.” He holds out his hand to help you up, and you take it with a smile. 

----

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[jinxs-gf]

songs explain what I can’t.

best friend!jinx x musician!reader

summary: you’re writing a song to confess your feelings to your best friend. only it does the opposite and your best friend believes her feelings for you are unrequited.

content, warnings: pics have nothing to do w readers appearance. modern au, reader is in a band, slight misunderstanding

word count: 1.1k

a.n. another request!! thank you <3

Jinx watches as you announce a newly written song. You seem more nervous and jittery than you'd usually be when performing a new project for the first time. It makes Jinx anxious for you, wishing she could soothe away your clear distress. Only you wouldn't let her.

For the past few months you'd been trying to make the perfect song. At least that's what it felt like to her. You shut her down every time she asked about it.

Her best friend subtly pushed her away. And it was tearing her apart.

You were—are everything to her. She’s never loved someone as strongly as she loves you. Never been loved as strongly as you love her. Though you two feel different types of love. Yours more platonic compared to hers…

You two shared everything with each other. Secrets that hadn’t been uttered to anyone else, delicate touches and words of intimacy.

Jinx wasn’t sure where the line was between platonic and romantic. A friend and a partner.

She’s never truly had anyone that filled both those categories. So how was she supposed to know how to distinguish the two?

She came to the conclusion that your actions were merely platonic, convincing herself that no one could ever really like—love her enough to want something more.

And she was okay with that (not really).

The song you’re presenting a sound she hasn't heard before, at least not from you. It was softer and sweeter than your usual punk-rockish sound. And in another life she'd love it. But in this one?

Jinx hears the song and gets...sad. Because there's a name in there and it isn't hers. you're singing about being in love with a woman that isn't jinx. And now she isn't sure what to feel. What to think. Because-

She convinced herself that she was just fine with you thinking of her as a friend. But the song was about falling in love with a close friend. It seemed like a clear homage to your friendship. It sounded like it was a song written about her. Blue hair described and all. And it references moments only the two of you have shared. Yet you sing another name.

Why would you hide this from her? Why wouldn’t you let her in on this person? Why why why…

Jinx would praise you and claim to love the song once it was over. Your routine after a performance was to run to her and engulf her in a big hug. Pouring all your adrenaline into the arms of your best friend. A hug that was oh so welcomed.

Her tattooed arms would squeeze you, while she hung onto the cloud of your affection and scent. A scent she’d admit she was probably weirdly obsessed with…

While you talked her ear off about how amazing the audience made you feel. Jinx loved listening to your post-performance talk sessions.

Every damn time without fail.

She’s not sure she can handle you going into detail about this new song though. It would surely break her. It’s okay, she reassures herself. Just try. Try to be supportive about this. Like you always do.

She holds her breath the moment the set is over. And as expected, you run down the stage and straight to her.

Except your hug feels less excited…

Was it because of the person you wrote about in your song? Have you been pulling away because of them?

“So…what did you think?”

Jinx responds, overly enthusiastic, “amazing! Just like always. You sure have a way with words.” And the last bit sounded bitter.

It left a bad taste in your mouth.

You wince, “really? Was it that bad?” You feel the need to explain yourself, “listen, I’m sorry I’ve been pulling away. But I needed the song to be good. I needed to get my point across and I didn’t want you to find out because it would ruin-”

Jinx is aware that the last thing you need right now is attitude, but finds herself rolling her eyes anyways. Your words make her feel like you know how she feels towards you, and that makes her feel exposed.

She grows defensive.

“Didn’t want me to find out because what? Any excuse you try to give me won’t be a good enough answer. You should’ve just told me about this girl you’re so infatuated with instead of keeping secrets.”

You gape at her, your band mates had awkwardly ushered the crowd away, sensing the tension before the argument even started.

“I- what girl? Jinx, the song is about you.”

“…What?”

“I know the song doesn’t explicitly name you, but I thought it was…obvious. I don’t know.”

The song was about falling in love with a close friend. That close friend being her. You were singing about her. You’re in love with her.

Well at least that’s been cleared up but…Jinx still feels defensive. If not a little offended.

"Why not? You don't want people to know you love me?"

"Of course I want people to! But I didn't want you to know. Up until now I thought we were just friends and that...that's all you wanted from me. I thought that y’know, this would be a cool confession. If you hated it I could just be like ‘hey no worries, the song isn’t about you anyways’.” You shrug helplessly.

"Silly goose. Of course I want you as more than a friend! What about the endless gifts I handmade? And how touchy-feely I am? That's all reserved specifically for you."

"Well I don't know how you are around your other friends!"

"I don't have other friends."

"Oh...how was I-"

She gives you no time to formulate a sentence. Usually you'd be annoyed at your best friend for interrupting you, but when she does it like this? By kissing you? Yeah you could get around to liking it.

And Jinx would normally be annoyed at your rambling only because she couldn't shut you up with a kiss. Yes she loved listening to you talk but sometimes you needed to slow down a bit.

And she could finally do that.

It was hungry, she refused to pull away. Allowing herself to practically eat you alive after all the pining she’s had to endure, thinking it was all one sided. It left your breathless, she seemed pretty keen on not letting you go.

You reluctantly pull away, trying to give yourself time to process everything. So much has happened in so little time.

She chases your lips, clearly not satisfied with the time she’s had with her lips on yours.

You give yourself about 5 seconds to cool off from the very dizzying kiss before you're rambling again.

"I don't exactly feel special anymore. I thought you chose to hang out with me because you loved me more than your other friends. Now-"

"Shut up," and she's kissing you again.

hey jinx lovers :P it’s good to be back

[kitkatt0430]

Been in a Batfamily (in all it's fucked up drama) mood lately and thinking...

Jason gets into town, starts establishing his Red Hood persona, screwing with the Bats and taking over Crime Alley. He intends to use the new Robin to screw with Batman and manipulating Black Mask into reporting the new Red Hood back to the original. And as planned, Joker does not respond well to 'some upstart' using his old moniker.

Except when Joker breaks out of Arkham he can't help but be distracted by Batman and his shiny new Robin. (Has Joker been out while Tim's been Robin at this point? Let's say no for the sake of fanfic purposes.) Now Harley made Joker promise no more killing kids after what happened with the last Robin, made it clear that was a hard boundary for her and she'd leave him for good if he want after any more kids.

Of course, his promise that of course he wouldn't kill anymore kids was a total lie but it got Hartley to go all soft and agreeable for him again and that was what mattered. Besides, he doesn't want to kill this Robin. He wants to see what Batman sees in having child sidekick and take one for himself.

So Tim gets kidnapped by the Joker before Bruce can send the poor kid somewhere not Gotham for his safety. And Joke unmasks Tim because of course he does. And Harley sees how young Tim is and watches Mr. J start electrocuting the kid because surely the brainwashing'll stick if they fry his noggin' a bit first...

And Harley decides this is a boundary for her too. She can't be a part of this and even if it kills her, she's going to save this kid. She knows she can't do it on her own and her first thought is to go find Batman.

Of course, she quickly nixes this idea. Batman isn't ruthless enough and sure maybe he'll make it all the way through Joker's henchmen - admittedly as per usual - and rescue the kid. But then Mr. J will go back to Arkham and even though Harley doesn't want Joker dead... she also kinda wants him dead for this one. For using his promise to her not to kill kids as an excuse to torture children instead.

Next choice is Nightwing but he's out for the same reasons as Batman. Nightwing is somewhat more likely to kill the Joker and could live with it in the way Batman couldn't, but it's not a guarantee and Harley wants this kid to know that the guy who did this to him will never be able to do it ever again.

And then Harley remembers. Red Hood. Who definitely picked that name not as an homage but as a taunt. Who clearly hates the Joker and all he stands for. Who will... probably kill Harley, let's be honest, but she's not sure she wants to live without her Mr. J even as she's mentally planning out the man's death. So.

Harley makes an excuse to leave. Joker says something about mom doing the grocery shopping to the kid he's electrocuting and hands off a list of random stuff to Harley. She takes it and skedaddles. Heads all the way to Crime Alley. Stands outside it for a long moment. Thinks about the kid Joker's gotten his hands on. The way he screamed and cried and begged for Batman to come save him after the bravado of Robin quickly wore off.

She steps into Crime Alley. And then she does random acrobatics down the street, waiting for the Red Hood or his men to show up.

And they do. The Red Hood's henchmen are quick and efficient in grabbing her and presenting her to their boss. There's a gun in her face and she should be terrified and she is but...

She tells Red Hood about the kid. She drops the fake accent she put on for Joker and let's herself be, for just one last time, Harleen instead of Harley. The doctor who cares and not the killer Joker molded her into. "So kill me or whatever, I know I deserve it for believing Mr. J's lies again. But you have a code. You don't hurt kids. You don't kill kids. And maybe I'm asking too much, but I wasn't there and didn't save the last one. So I'm begging you to save this one."

Jason sees green. He has Harley take him to the Joker's hide out. He tears his way through the Joker's goons and doesn't hesitate to kill the Joker because he's too deep in the pit rage at the man who murdered him to care about his convoluted plans to try and force Bruce's hand, to make Batman finally kill Joker.

On the bright side, killing the Joker himself clears up some of Jason's lazarous pit related anger management issues. On the spot. The down side however is that Jason now has a traumatized Tim to deliver back to Batman - which he'd rather not, Batman cannot be trusted not to weaponize children - without being blamed for the state Tim's in.

He makes this Harley's problem - explain this to the Bats yourself, it's your punishment, Harley - and decides he needs a new plan to say 'screw you' to Batman with. He's gonna win over Robin 3.0 and get the kid to willingly abandon Batman to join the Red Hood Crew. How hard can it be, anyway?

Meanwhile Tim has absolutely figured out Jason is the Red Hood because he's absolutely connecting dots he should not be capable of connecting and formulating his own plan to try and lure Jason back home. Because why would Tim focus on healing from his own trauma when he could prioritize someone else's and compartmentalize the hell out of his own problems. Which is definitely the healthy thing to do and not at all going to bite him in the ass with depression and miscommunications down the line. (They all need so much therapy.)

So now the Joker's dead, Harley has delivered Tim safely back to Batman, (Ivy is about to get an unexpected visitor,) and the Bats are about to start playing four-d chess with each other to try and achieve various goals. Jason is trying to steal Tim from Bruce. Bruce thinks maybe saving Robin means the new Red Hood could be saved from himself after all. Tim is trying to lure Jason back to the manor for Alfred's cookies and oh is that a long overdue conversation with Bruce that is also sprung on him like a trap??? And Dick would just like to thank Red Hood but somehow winds up drunk confessing to the definitely-a-hallucination-of-Jason the whole didn't find out his little brother was dead until after the funeral when Dick got back from space thing and how he's so grateful to the Red Hood for saving this new kid who's just the neighbor's kid but also rapidly looking brother-shaped and why is he so bad at protecting the people he cares about???

(Jason rapidly going from 'drunk Dick is funny' to 'drunk Dick is clingy and cries and oh god he's getting emotions all over me make it stop')

[sifu-kisu]

I’ve sensed a stir of discontent surrounding my thoughts on the live-action remake of Avatar: The Last Airbender. please allow me to illuminate my perspective. In the animated series, we poured our hearts into crafting the action, for ATLA is at its core essence, a martial arts odyssey, even an epic—an art form that I’ve spent much of my life mastering, practicing, and teaching with unwavering devotion.

The live-action adaptation, however, seemed to stumble over the very foundation that made the original so captivating. To me, it felt as though the essence of the source material was either misunderstood or disregarded. The choreography (or lack there of..) , which should have been a dynamic homage to the intricate art of bending, came across as lackluster and devoid of the authentic martial arts movements that once breathed life into it. Firebending for instance, is not like tossing a stone. It has a process that entails a beginning a middle and end…

That being said, I’ll concede that the costumes and some of the special effects caught my eye, but beyond those fleeting moments, I found little to hold onto. Am i “mad” about it? Nope. Was I upset about not working on the project? Nope. (I don’t do that sort of work anymore.) I’m just enjoying my life, And let me make one thing clear—my opinion is mine alone.

Be well😋

[sgiandubh]

It's that time of the year... - part deux

For my first post covering C's sighting at the Paris Fashion Week's Hermès catwalk show, kindly refer here: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/777467105003077632/its-that-time-of-the-year?source=share

Meanwhile, the official show's clip has been released. You can watch it here: https://www.fhcm.paris/en/collection/hermes-womenswear-fallwinter-2025-2026

As expected, this is a very elegant homage to the luxury brand's horsemanship, aristocratic DNA. From the horseshoe-shaped catwalk, to the catwalk's floor, covered with sand. It immediately brings to mind the absolute beauty of the Ecole Nationale d'Equitation de Saumur (the National Equestrian School of Saumur), aka Le Cadre Noir, which was included on the UNESCO's List of Intangible Cultural Heritage, in 2011:

But we're not here to babble about fin-de-siècle leisure. As always, Getty Images spills the tea on who was seen with C at that event.

Fellow Irish actress Sarah Greene:

Roger Lynch, Condé Nast's CEO. Dame Anna Wintour. Axel Dumas, Hermès CEO. Jessica Alba, Hollywood A-lister:

Elisabeth Franck-Dumas, the Hermès CEO's wife:

This is a very interesting tidbit, because you see, Mrs. Franck-Dumas, as all the saints of the Inner Circle of Fashion, also has an interesting past. Her interesting American past includes freelance stints for mainstream US media outlets such as: the New York Magazine, the New York Times, Vogue USA and hey, hello... the now defunct Departures Magazine:

[Source: https://www.linkedin.com/in/elisabeth-franck-dumas-5128253/?originalSubdomain=fr]

Now remind me to which media outlet do we owe those wonderful (but allegedly slightly deviated), enamored SC pics?

You know what I am talking about - this pic, for example:

Departures magazine. That is correct.

And who was heavily featured in it, up until its peaceful end?

S. That is correct, the very clumsy Sophie Mancini (not even a beard) on top.

Finally, lest some speculation should arise, a clear reminder not all leather jackets are created equal. This is an unidentified lady Mrs. Franck Dumas sitting right next to C [edited for accuracy]:

You never know what people might come up with, after all...

Last, but not least, I noticed on the Paris Videostars' arrival clip I posted in my other part that French press still does not know who C is. You can hear someone prompting people to take a picture of her ('La caméra, faut l'appeler, hein?!' - 'hey, camera, we must call her, huh?!' - at the 00:27 mark and adding the clip's Youtube link one more time here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMFyn_jWmpo ) and some people shouting 'Madame, Madame', but no identification whatsoever.

Also, there seems to be a heavy shortage of nannies in Glasgow, currently. Or London - even more bizarre, huh?

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L x Reader pt. 5: the billionaire and the prostitute

Finally got this out! Only took an extra three days 🫠 hopefully I can get back on track after this :)

It's Halloween! Isn't that fun? cool costumes, magic in the air, half-off candy the next day. It was your favorite holiday when you were young, and if you had to pick a favorite now, you supposed it would still be Halloween.

But you were working.

It was no big deal, it just meant you would have to devote the best hours of Halloween, midnight to the very early morning, catering to a man.

Of course...that man was L. You didn't mind him. In fact, if you were being honest, you wouldn't have said yes to seeing any of your other clients.

But to be clear, it didn't mean you liked him. It just meant you...favored him. two separate things.

in any case, getting ready went smoothly, even with your new nails occasionally getting in the way. They weren't too long, maybe an inch, and almond cut. You decided to go for a nice base shade that complimented your skin tone, with crimson French tips and a few gem accents. they were a little basic, but you liked them. It was especially nice when you sent the invoice to L, and he immediately refunded you for the set.

You visited another client in between the time you got your nails and now, and to your surprise no comments were made. He didn't mind at all. As much as you'd love to have L pay you for a lost customer, if only to prove your point, you couldn't.

You went through the mundane tasks it took to get ready, though you got to pay homage to the holiday by wearing a silk black dress and blood-red lingerie. something for you to have a little fun with.

Finally, after applying your red lipstain, you were carted off to join L at...a different hotel. He moved, for some reason. You didn't notice until watari started taking turns you didn't recognize, which admittedly made you nervous.

"Where are we going?"

"L has changed locations, as he will frequently. I believe it was outlined in your contract."

"Oh, right..." you vaguely remember reading it, but you were a little too eager to sign, and because of that you didn't really pay attention.

The lines of the building watari pulled up to were much cleaner than the last place, the architecture sleek and new-age compared to the more opulent style of the previous hotel. You wondered what he moved so much for...and these places weren't too far from each other.

By the time you got to his room, you were tired of navigating the grey and white halls lit with fluorescence. It suited him, but god did it all look the same.

You knocked, and this time he answered himself. The door gently pulled open, and there he stood, looking as grey as the walls around him. He looked tired, more than usual.

"You're here," he stated quietly, looking down at your hands.

You brought a hand in between the two of you, splaying your fingers for him to see. "I got my nails done," you state.

"I'm aware. I paid for them." Despite his apathetic answer, he still studied the work, seeming fairly satisfied.

"Come in." He turned from you, walking away from the door and expecting you to follow. You did, and observed your new surroundings. This place had a far more open concept, the door entering directly into the living room area with a kitchenette off to the side. The living room contained one couch, a TV, and a dark wood table in between. The table was covered with towers of pastries, cakes, candies, fruits. If it had sugar, it was there. On the walls perpendicular to the door, there were two other doors that you suspected led into a bedroom and bathroom. Nice place.

"You've upgraded," you remark, gesturing to the TV and it's accompanying snacks.

"I'd hardly call it that." He settled himself on the couch, and instead of sitting beside him, you went around the back and leaned over, resting your arms on the frame, directly above him. He didn't react. "Do you enjoy watching televison?"

"Yeah, I do. If I wasn't here, I'd be at home watching a halloween movie." A little snide to say, but not necessarily rude.

"It is halloween..." he mused. "Is that something you celebrate?"

"I suppose. I sit in, eat candy, maybe get dressed up. What about you?"

He glanced upward in thought, his thumb instinctively resting on his lip. "Today would be one I enjoy, in theory."

You laugh. "Oh? Why, because of the sweets?"

He doesn't look at you, he just keeps his attention somewhere in the ether. "...yes, that would be a reason why."

You sigh, and idly trail your hand up from his elbow to his shoulder. Only then does he look away from the somewhere. "So what do you like, if not a day dedicated to sugar?"

"...my work," he answers slowly, his gaze following your hand. "And...puzzles."

You laugh again, this time with a little more warmth. "How old are you," you tease. "You sound like you belong in a nursing home."

"I enjoy games." L grabs your hand, gingerly, just as it reaches the cap of his shoulder. "I like to feel challenged." He pulls it farther down, wanting to view your nails more closely. He thumbs over the gem on your pointer finger, his eyes tracing the curved line of the French tip. He's quiet for a moment, and so are you. Finally, he turns his head to face you.

"I appreciate your effort," he says.

It was simple, quite honestly the way an employer thanks employee, but it felt so oddly intimate. Maybe it was the look in his grey-black eyes, or the way his thumb slid up and down the juncture of your hand and your wrist, but it made something inside you ooze down the sides of your ribcage, down to your stomach to pool warmly above the in-between of your hips.

It made you pull away.

You hid your flustered reaction by walking around the couch and sitting beside him, an excuse for your behavior. "It wasn't a big deal," you mutter.

He watches, and when you sit he holds eye contact with you. "Do you like them?"

He was asking as if he picked them for you. "Yeah. Do you?"

He looks down at your hands again. "I do."

You look to the array of snacks on the table, and he follows your gaze. "I've been working. Excuse the mess."

Now that you looked, it really was messy, scattered with wrappers, half-eaten cookies, sugar cube towers toppled over, and decapitated chocolate bears. "What do you do again?"

"Nothing of importance to you."

That felt a little cold. You liked it. It didn't give you any complex feelings, it only left you with that familiar snark you sometimes got around him. "Yeah yeah, very mysterious. Are we starting soon or what?"

He gave the smallest of smiles at your sharpness, a slight twitch of his lips. "Actually, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright."

"Like what?"

"Do you...have any companions?"

"Like, friends?"

"Yes."

You thought for a moment. Of course you had friends, there were plenty of people you could call a friend. For example- well, there was...hm...

"I...do. kind of. I'm just busy."

He studied your face. "I don't believe you."

You rolled your eyes. "Why ask if you don't like my answer?"

"I'd be content with your answer if it were true. But I don't believe it is."

"And why's that," you huff.

he leans in, just a little, and tilts his head. "You're too particular."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you and I are very similar."

You cross your arms. "Say what you like, but there's no reason for you to believe something so baseless."

"It's not baseless. I know because of the way you answered. The way you spoke, how your eyes shifted to one side. And...I doubt I would find you as intriguing as I do if you weren't particular."

You sigh. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

L turns to face the table, reaching for a now cold cup of tea. "Curiosity."

"As always," you scoff.

He gives you a sidelong glance, before picking up the cup and taking a sip. "Do you enjoy your work?"

Now he changes the subject. "I do. I'm wildly lecherous," you answer dryly.

"Lecherous...yes, that would be a word to describe you."

That was fair, you guessed. You said it yourself, after all. "I was joking."

"Is that so?" He reached for a macaron, stopping halfway to decide between a pink one and a blue one.

"It is," you nod. L takes both of the macarons, and shoves the pink one in his mouth. The other, he holds up to his eye, examining it in the light.

"You're not very good at making jokes then."

That garners a chuckle from you. "Right, because you're such a comedian."

"I made you laugh, didn't I?" He breaks the macaron into perfect halves, setting one down and taking the other in his index finger and thumb.

"I was laughing at you," you taunt.

He was quiet as he snapped the half in his hand into neat quarters, finally eating the tiny pieces one by one. "I'd like to get started."

"Alright then," you shrug, ready to move on anyway. "What is it tonight?"

"Oral." He glances to you, as if questioning whether or not you'd say yes.

"I can do oral." Easy stuff, considering your experience. "Take off your pants then."

"...I mean, I'd like to preform oral."

"Oh!" You shouldn't have assumed...but, who could blame you, most guys requested to recieve oral. "Well then...brush your teeth first." You weren't going to have all those crumbs...there.

He nodded, and stood to shuffle off to the bathroom.

You sat quietly, admiring your nails, taking glances around, listening to the sounds of his cleaning. It was nice here...not just how the room was, but some air that traveled from the last place to this one. Maybe it was him. You'd rather not dwell.

He returns, the light scent of mint on his breath.

"Ready," you ask, sitting upright.

He nods and plops down beside you. "I am." He turns to face you, and glances to your lips. You smile, just enough to signal your willingness, and he leans in. He's tentative at first, still adjusting to having the charge for once, but as you find your rhythm he gets a little more intense. He's figured out the pattern by now, what he can do and what he can't, how to progress smoothly.

His tongue slithers out of his mouth, sliding against your bottom lip in a request for entrance. You open your mouth, and he tilts his head to find a pleasant angle for both of you. His kissing is always so neat. So slow, so clean.

You bring your hand up his arm, your nails skittering across his neck and into his hair to gently scratch at his scalp. He shivers, and pulls away to kiss your jaw. He doesn't spend much time there before he's pressing his lips to your neck, down and back, seeming to be...searching. he pauses above your skin for a moment, before leaning in to press a wet, gentle kiss to the spot about two inches below your ear. You let out a contented hum, and he takes that as a sign he's doing something right.

He continues to smother the area as your fingertips swirl through his hair, his hands carefully gliding up your legs. He stops where your dress starts, and without rising for air he feels up your body, wanting to find a zipper, and hoping to bring you pleasure in the process.

He fondles your sides, his hands ghosting over the fabric as he reacquaints himself with your curves. Thighs, hips, waist...the small of your back...zipper. by now, he's led himself to the other side of your neck, a trail of wet marks in cold air left in his wake.

he pulls your hair to one side, and steadily unzips your dress, watching his own movements from his place above your shoulder. He could see how the fabric sank from your form...the way it loosened, and wilted from you like black petals. And underneath...

red.

deep red, that stood out against the expanse your skin. His hand skipped up your back in feather-light carresses, until it reached the clasp of your lingerie. He was about to undo it, but a thought struck him. He wanted to appreciate the view first.

He methodically untangled himself from you, pleased to see the ardor in your expression as a result of his touching, and tilted his head down. There was the intricate lace of your bra, fitted to your breasts, and the silk of your dress pooled in your lap. He looked back up to you, and with gentle guidance, led you to lay down.

Ever careful, he dragged the dress down your legs, revealing exactly what he was looking for- those pretty lace panties. You always wore a matching set, and for some reason this particular one got to him. Perhaps it was the way the color complimented you so well, or the passion the color signified. He wasn't going to question it, for now.

L, now between your calves, ran his fingers up your legs, deliberate, until he reached your underwear. He thumbed at the fabric, catching his index finger in the waistband to better feel the texture between his fingertips. "Red suites you," he murmured, not once looking up to meet your focused eyes, not even at your equally low "thank you."

With all the calm he could maintain, he removed the garment, watching as sticky fluid clung to it, as if attempting to pull it back. That alone was enough to arouse him, and with the way your chest heaved with each bated breath, he knew he would have to restrain his lust. He would wait. He was nothing if not patient, and he wanted to make this last.

He hovered above you now, and with a chaste kiss to your lips he began to kiss down your body. As he mouthed your clavicle, he unclasped your bra, which you kindly removed for him. That gave him plenty of free range to suckle at your breasts, to kiss and caress and appreciate.

He had never considered himself as someone to prefer one body part to another- they all served equally important and clinical purposes- but if he were to pick one part of you, he might say your chest. The mounds of soft, warm flesh were pleasing to the touch, and with such positive reinforcement as your mewls of pleasure and your fingers in his hair, how could he resist?

Still, he had to move on. He trailed his lips down your sternum, down your stomach, over your hips, just as he had read of and observed in his study of this subset of sex, until he reached the area he had most been anticipating.

L finally looked up at you, assured by your light panting, and with firm pressure he stroked his tongue up from your entrance to your clit. The fluttering of your lashes would have been motivation enough, but at the discovery of your flavor, he was delighted. No, it wasn't sugary-sweet, but it was...it was perfect. The slight tang, the musk, the thin consistency. It was something so innately human, so base, so vital. He wanted more of it.

He circled your clit, and at the tension in your hips he brought his hands down to hold them to the couch cushion. He lapped and laved over the sensitive nub, moving in tandem with the whine of your hips, working his tongue beneath the hood to give as much pleasure as possible.

You hum and moan, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping the armrest beneath your head. "Oh, L," you whisper, your head tossing as your writhe beneath his skillful mouth.

He wraps one arm around your thigh, replacing his tongue with his middle fingers rubbing in tight circles so he can grant himself the experience of penetration. His head lowered, and you could feel the bump of his nose press to your walls, just before his lips pucker around your entrance. His wet, warm tongue meets the ingress, and as it presses in with tentative curiosity, your hips whine.

His tongue is long, pointed with precision to find the right angle, and when he does, it's glorious. The vigorous sliding in and out as his tongue arched perfectly into that one spot, his fingers still working your clit without rest- it was too much.

your back arched, you hands clawing at the fabric of the couch beneath your head as you let out a loud, unrestrained moan. He worked you through it, only stopping when the tension left your body. He didn't want to overstimulate you, after all.

Once you were panting and limp, he sat upright, licking what he could from his face and leaving the rest.

You, after a few breathless seconds, sat up a little, your eyes watery. Alright, fine, you had to admit, the guy was pretty damn good at giving head.

"Where'd you learn that? Are there other prostitutes in your life," you tease, trying to distract from you disheveled state.

"I've been doing thorough research," he murmurs, his own breathing quick. At least he was affected too.

You lever yourself all the way up using the back of the couch as a grip, and come face to face with him. "You sure you don't want me to...reciprocate?"

He thinks for a moment. "Would you like to?" That same blasé tone, as if nothing mattered.

"I don't see why not," you shrug. You figured you kind of owed him. Or, rather, you owed yourself the affirmation that you were better at this than he was.

He looks down at himself for a moment, and you follow suite. How incredibly hard he was, it was a wonder those jeans didn't rip open. "I can help you out," you say, a wry grin on your face.

He nods hesitantly as he slides back from you, all the way until he can press his spine to the arm of the couch. You back up a little, supporting yourself with your hands braced around his legs, and quickly unbutton his pants. He does you the service of pulling his pants and underwear down, just to his knees, and he springs out. You've never seen him so hard, you usually get to it as soon as he's able, but now...

"Must be painful," you mock, peering up at him with that same smirk you had when you said something particularly teasing.

"It is," he confirms nonchalantly, simply holding eye contact with you. You stare at each other for a moment, neither of you backing down, before you shake your head and reach for his member. He tenses as you stroke him, the slow up and down motions more frustrating than anything. It was just to work him up a little.

You finally lean down, and as your remove your hand you press soft, delicate kisses up his shaft, he watches with not an ounce of shame or discomfort, only absorbing the sight. When you reach the tip, you take it into your mouth, swirl your tongue around, and look up at him. He's mesmerized.

You keep that hold on his gaze as you slowly sink down, down, down, until he's poking at the back of your throat. He shudders.

You pull up with the same speed, and when your lips are back at the tip, he rests his hand in your hair. He doesn't push or pull, just leaves it there. You slide back down, this time with more purpose, and as your tongue rubs against his length he lets out a shuddering moan. You pick a tempo, something rhythmic but paced, and allow yourself to get lost in it. You go on autopilot, focusing on his sounds, the way his thumb pets your forehead in a way of awarding your actions. After a few moments of this, you begin to focus again, and you catch a glimpse of his face. Or, lack thereof.

His head was tilted back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each desperate swallow of saliva, his hair shadowing his eyes as he panted and groaned. You watched, best you could, as his jaw snapped shut, and you could feel his hand tensing. He was close.

You stopped at his tip and stayed there, working the spot with your tongue and stroking the length with your hand. His head tipped forward, just in time to watch how good you looked as he came in your mouth.

His torso lurched forward, hovering above you as he bucked shallowly into your mouth. He tasted as sweet as you remember, like swallowing sugar-water. How he managed to consume enough sugar to get this sweet and stay alive was beyond you.

His shoulders slumped as he relaxed, and when you sat up, he laid back on his elbows. He was panting for a moment, you couldn't see his eyes past his hair, but his lips were parted in a need for more air. When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were so sharp and focused. Like he could see right through you.

"Good, I suspect," you asked.

"Good...yes..." he mumbled. He had never looked so worn.

"I should probably get going then, if that's all," you sigh, standing and moving to get dressed again. He catches your arm, and as you turn around he's sure to catch your eyes.

"I want to do one last thing, if that's alright."

You pause. Who were you to say no? "...sure. what is it?"

"I'd like to try missionary again." He stands with you, wanting to segway into the bedroom.

Right, that was the whole point of these nails, wasn't it? You wait for him to kick his pants from his ankles, easy considering how loose they were, and trail behind him to the bedroom. This one was just as boring as the last, with clean white sheets and grey furniture.

He stood by the bed in wait, his shirt discarded on the way over. You wasted no time, laying down on the bigger, more comfortable surface. He's quick to climb in with you, and as he cages you between his arms, he plants languid kisses on your mouth and across your neck. He's tired now, even more than before, and he was willing to spend what little energy he has on being inside you.

You kiss him back when his mouth is available, and as he settles between your thighs you trail your nails up his spine, creating thin lines and meaningless shapes. He sighs lightly, and glides a hand down your stomach, over your hips, and to his own member. He guides it to your entrance, and in his need he wastes no time on pleasantries.

He pushes himself in, the sensation pleasing to your own neediness. He was careful with you, gently rocking back and forth, pressing his lips to your neck in an affectionate manner. Your hands stayed braced on his back, your moans in his ear spurring on his thrusting, encouraging him.

He was growing desperate, wanting to finish and feel you do the same. His hand, previously on your hip, made a careful journey to your clitoris. He went just fast enough to make your legs stiffen around his hips, enough to make your nails scratch at his back, enough to make your chest arch into his. In turn, that was enough to make him cum a second time.

His hips stuttered and pressed up against yours, just as your nails dug and clawed into his back. It was painful, but it was real. It was connection. It was passion.

He finally gave way to the urge of his tiredness, and collapsed atop you. He would let his eyes close, he would let himself drift off, but he owed you the ability to get up without hassle.

He pulled out and rolled off of you, his legs instinctively coming up to press against his chest. You roll onto your side to face him, and at the look in his eyes you can see he's near sleep. "That's what you get for staying up all the time," you tease softly.

You sit upright, the cold air reminding you of your nakedness. What a mess...you'd have to get dressed, get in the car, drive home, take a shower, do your skincare, probably eat-

"Stay with me."

"Hm?" Your surprised he's still awake, he looked about ready to pass out.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stay with me tonight."

Tonight? All night? You've never done that before. Cuddled, sure, but not spent the night with a client. Who does he think he is? Like you'd ever agree to something like that, you're not that desperate to sleep, are you? And how could he think you were? Sure, you were a prostitute, but you still had the dignity to sleep in your own goddamn bed at the end of it all.

"...Sure."

You laid back down. He pulled up the comforter. You allowed him to hold you.

Happy birthday to him.

[dingodad]

ok i have just a couple tinfoil hat type thoughts before i think i've run out of things to say about addendum 1. i've been hesitant to straight up say that Vriska is the one 'doing' these addendums / retcons / whatever we're choosing to call this phenomenon because I feel there are a couple points where it's not 100% clear that's the case? keeping in mind we've been fooled by these giant blue lasers before in the leadup to 8r8k.

first of all, if we are presuming this new Jane is done with her therapyquest then does she get some kind of upgrade too? it's doubtful that the theoretical "Hell Tier" Jane would get the same fiery powers that Vriska has, true, but just worth keeping in mind that she might be capable of these kinds of narrative feats on her own now.

on a similar note:

okay, Jasprose helped put Jane on the right track so she could be transplanted back into the main timeline, and she had some help doing that - but if Vriska was the one doing the transplanting, who's here with Jasprose? consensus seems to be Snowman, which makes perfect sense. fuck it - you're hanging out in midnight crew world who else are you gonna lez out with - and if that's the case then fine, Snowman's a tertiary character at best and I don't think her being here has to mean anything.

but the hands are throwing me off, because to my eyes they look for all the world like an artefacted photograph! which to me could mean one of two things:

the original 'Diamonds, Dames, and Dads' story where Snowman last appeared used a lot of stock photography assets, often more than a little crunchy. so it could be that depictions of Midnight City and its inhabitants will continue to pay homage to that photobash sort of style, which would be fun!

it's some other character, important enough and novel enough to be depicted wearing weird photobashed JPEG gloves. and given all that we currently know there only really seems to be the one feasible candidate for such a character?!?

where there are retcons, we traditionally expect to see John, and I've been reminded that John's glimpse into the exploding Plot Point included a table from Problem Sleuth - so if we're to assume that all of those visions had to do with John's future specifically, it's really not so crazy to think that we might find a future version of John dining in a Problem Sleuth world! looked at this way, even the fact that the drink being poured is some nondescript blank liquid - in a panel otherwise dominated by a lavender-noir palette - comes across as meaningful. (@utopianparadoxist makes other arguments for John being the party responsible for this retcon, though these revolve more around the wispy blue smoke of Jasprose's cigarette, which to me would suggest John having just left, not still sitting at the table...)

ALL THAT SAID, it is right about time hs2 showed us what Vriska's new powers are, and I'm tentative to approach the story like it's trying to trick me. John's powers certainly lend themselves to changing history so that Jane and Jake joined the battleship journey at the start; but Jasprose's presence here and on page 666 tells us that this is the same Jane and Jake from Midnight City, and - if we exclude for the sake of argument the possibility that this Jane and Jake are just older than everyone else on the ship (funny, but seemingly unlikely) - that means we're looking at a Jane and Jake from one story re-incorporated into the past of another story. that sounds to me like something new, and in terms of powers, Hell Tier Vriska is what's new.

what's still open-ended is just what the process of getting from Midnight City back into the main space looks like (if that really ends up being important), and just how much agency we can assign to the character responsible for that. while it seems plausible that getting Mrs. and Mr. Crocker from A to B is something Vriska could have intuited to do as part of her newfound understanding of the medium, the transformation of Deltritus from blue to pink is different; not only is it difficult to justify the importance of such an act on the cosmic scale John and now Vriska operate on, it's hard to imagine how one might even go about achieving such a result through simple manipulation of past events!

so even if we determine that transporting the Crockers is conceptually within John's capabilities, there's still something going on here without the precision that necessarily comes with using those juju powers.

[nqueso-lies]

Hi Queso 👋

The self gaslighting over Bobby not being dead has me really concerned for Thursday. I've heard loads of TV studios, actors and crew sent death threats and physical harassment. (I don't think any of the tiktok "creators" would do this) Because they're upset over programs and people who are convinced they've been lied to can be dangerous and We've already had the in poor taste billboard

With Oliver deleting his peter post I've seen many people claiming this is proof he's alive ( as if Oliver doesn't delete most of his posts) and the general BoBs consensus over no one is watching because Bobby's dead (proven false), all the cast and crew are unhappy (do these people not have works besties I'm always upset when they or I have to leave for many reasons doesn't mean we would stage a coup like some people are suggesting)

It's very clear with the official press from 911 and the cast that Bobby's dead and this final arc is paying Homage to irl firefighters and that if this is a fake out it will be incredibly insensitive. Nevermind they did the fake out last season (if the strikes hadn't happened or were resolved earlier and we got a full season I presume this would have happened then)

This isn't including the buddie and Eddie of it all and how many people seem to think this is the reward for surviving destiel sticky sterek ect

Annie, you live in my fucking brain!! I literally just had this conversation with the chat lol

I understand people being upset and that's valid. But I'm mostly concerned with all this hope some people are trying to spread. It's going to be bad.

I wouldn't worry about fans really lashing out violently, though. I get the feeling their bark is way scarier than their bite.

[therealvinelle]

Can I hear your opinions on rita skeeter?

You know how some stories have that only sane man, the one person who isn't impressed by our dashing main characters or who's living in a different genre and rated story? The one, typically a fan favorite, character who has a fundamentally different perspective. They can also, shortly put, be the "this is stupid and you're stupid" character.

The NBC Hannibal show has Freddie Lounds ("I'm a bad, bad man", Will threatens her. He is then surprised when she runs a feature on the FBI hiring a creep to come to crime scenes and pretend he's a serial killer.) The Vampire Diaries had Elijah (he isn't a great example of this, but legacy fans will remember all the jokes about how the reason the writers never put him in episodes was because he'd have solved all the characters' stupid problems within twenty minutes and there would be no plot for the rest of the season. Elijah was perceived to be living in a different type of show than the rest of the teen drama cast), and there are some who think that this was Snape for Harry Potter.

They are wrong.

Rita, my dove

Let's take a look at a few things Rita prints over the course of canon, where we have an insight into what actually happened and know precidely what she printed. I have my copy of Goblet of Fire with me, it's in Norwegian so I'll be translating back to English but I trust that's alright.

The Quidditch world cup incident

What we know happened:

The British Ministry was responsible for the event. It was highly prestigious, with foreign leaders attending and people from all over the world camped out near the stadion. After the first match there's celebrations, which turns into a riot. Tents are set on fire, people are chased through the camp grounds, and there's total chaos where nobody knows where their loved ones are. The riot soon turns into a homage to Voldemort, with rioters in Death Eater uniforms tormenting the Muggles living nearby and someone putting up the Dark Mark.

Arthur Weasley, who works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts (which is admittedly part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement), is sent to make a statement on the Ministry's behalf to the terrified witches and wizards hiding.

What Skeeter reports:

Headlining "TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP" (me translating), with an image of the Dark Mark, Rita Skeeter writes (this is Arthur skimming): "Ministry blunders... culprits not apprehended... lax security... Dark wizards running unchecked... national disgrace..." (original English from the wiki)

A full section (and this is me translating again): "If the terrified witches and wizards who waited for information while they hid in the woods had hoped for any sort of reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sorely disappointed. A department spokesman, who only showed up long after the Dark Mark had appeared, claimed no one had been injured but refused to give further information. It remains to be seen if this statement will quell the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later."

Verdict

All of this is accurate, except the last sentence.

Nobody was killed in the incident. However, Skeeter was acting on the information available to her, and she makes it clear this last part is unconfirmed. Further, I'm going to come out in her defense and say that Skeeter, writing an article critical of the Ministry in a community with a very loose sense of free speech, can't take Arthur Weasley at his vague word and should refer to her own sense of judgement when deciding whether the rumors are credible enough to print or not.

As it is, a riot in a crowded area at night with people who dressed like Death Eaters, where the Dark Mark was fired into the sky, where mass panic erupted, in a world where children can produce deadly magic with their wands, could easily have led to casualties. I don't think it was a far leap for Skeeter that people might have died, and the Ministry didn't want to admit as much.

Notice her phrasing (and yes, I know you're reading my translation) when she talks about the Ministry: "It remains to be seen if this statement will quell the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later." Not, "It remains to be seen whether the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later were true.", or any type of phrasing indicating that the truth will out. Only rumors that may or may not be quelled.

Knowing that the Wizarding World doesn't appear to be a functional nor accountable democracy, that things like statistics likely don't exist (who will be your statistician if there is no basic math education? How will wizards interpret statistics if they don't understand basic maths, what use are error margins and percentages to them? This is important, because without statistics there is also no need to collect numbers - how many students take the core classes, how many are employed after X years, how many citizens die in a given year and of what causes... you see where I'm going with this), and that Arthur gets so defensive when reading legitimate criticism of his Ministry (not even his department or jurisdiction, mind, and Skeeter anonymized him), indicates a fraught understanding of governmental accountability and transparency.

In other words, who can say if anybody died that night. Arthur himself had gone to bed with his family as soon as the chaos was under control, and there was no tally after the riot, no controlled evacuation, nothing. Skeeter wasn't wrong for publishing what she herself clarified was speculation, either way I'm hard pressed to see her as a villain for putting the Ministry under pressure, in fact I have to wonder if this kind of pressure is necessary to get them to admit things they'd otherwise shove under the carpet.

Back to Arthur Weasley. In response to this article he says to his family (me translating again): "Molly, I must go to the office. Killing this is going to take some time."

Now, I know real governments have to cry over scandals that take time to move past as well: however, what are people upset over? What's the scandal?

Oh, yes, that the Ministry wasn't able to prevent a riot at a large sports event, flubbed completely once it had begun, and failed to give the people any kind of useful or timely information. All of that is true. The only part that isn't true, would be dispelled if they'd only put out a statement saying "no one was killed". The only reason why one such statement wouldn't work is if Ministry statements are not considered trustworthy - and this is where we return to the above.

So far, so good on Rita Skeeter, and so bad on Arthur who, going by this section, questions the Ministry less than Bellatrix Lestrange questions Voldemort.

Interlude: Percy and the vampires

While the article about the World Cup is read, Percy jumps in with an anecdote about Skeeter.

"That woman is always out to slander the Ministry," Percy said angrily. "Last week she claimed we waster our time fooling around with cauldron thickness when we should be extinguishing vampires! As though it is not expressedly stated in Guidelines for treatment of non-wizard halfhumans that-"

I'm not going to make any guesses as to what precisely Skeeter's criticism was, because Percy is angry and venting to his family, which doesn't make him likely to present her argument fairly. Who knows what, specifically, she criticized and why and what she asked for in her article. What we do know is that she questioned Ministry priorities and resource allotment, and Percy takes it personally, he gets angry about it. Hostility and defensiveness is the gut reaction.

More damningly, "that woman is always out to slander the Ministry" implies no one else is doing it.

Your star is rising, Rita.

Oh no, post got long

And this is the part where I'd go on to her interview with Harry and subsequent articles, and later on Dumbledore, but I'm realizing that would make this post a very long and decentralized mess.

Will cover it in follow up posts: today is for Rita vs. the Ministry and how the Weasleys think Muggles are so quaint with their democracricy and freedom of speech, teehee that's silly.

[himezoro]

their reaction to hearing a famous love song written for you ! (with luffy and zoro)

After a long hiatus I’m finally back to writing!! I’m very sorry for my absence and hope this fun drabble will bring you joy (just to make you wait for drabbles with deeper themes haha). I had the idea on the subway on the way to work when listening to music, feel free to use any music you like from any group/singer/rapper, and feel free to share it in the comments <3

i used kpop songs because I was listening to this playlist at the same time lmao.

Luffy – Gravity by EXO

He saw Nami, Usopp and Chopper singing loudly and dancing to catchy music and decided to join. Luffy loves having fun and genuinely thought the song to be good, and these vocals? Impressive!

He enjoyed reproducing the choreo and singing to the lyrics on display and had the time of his life. His flexible nature made it easy for him to get the moves right, but his energy resulted in him bumbing into his crewmates, stepping on their foot and punching them in the face.

Kept on calling your name to show you his moves, his bubbly attitude trying to catch your attention ruining the choreography Usopp took very seriously.

When he hears Nami say this love song was written for you, he suddenly stops, Chopper tripping on his feet at the sudden stop.

He thought the song was great, and that it was cool you had your own song!!!

Yet, he feels like it was something he should do for you. Considering he loved you a lot more than anyone, and that anyone includes the one that wrote that song in homage to you, he simply knew it was his duty to write one for you as well.

It did not matter that the lyrics he just heard made it clear to the world the writer’s feelings for you were real and that you two probably shared history. All that mattered to him was the fact that standing next to him as future King of Pirates, would be you.

So in the middle of his fabulous performance, he ran away and asked Brook for help, for Usopp’s greatest pleasure.

Comes back a few hours later with a whole new arrangement he sings in front of the whole crew with the scratchiest voice ever, but with an amount of pride, sincerity and love that could be heard to the depth of the ocean.

Needless to say you had to quickly shut him up with a hug or else he would have awaken the dead.

Zoro – Eyes, nose, lips, Taeyang.

He was fed up with Usopp, Luffy and Chopper’s karaoke with Nami’s lovesick playlist. It felt like hours and he was trying to sleep.

(Yes it is the middle of the day, but it is the perfect time for a nap and hearing the lousy trio was giving him night terror.)

You could feel his grumpiness from below the crow’s nest and debated going up to ease his pain but decided not to, to avoid having a fuming Zoro to deal with.

When the bridge of the song hit and Luffy tried hitting the high notes alongside Nami that decided to join in, this was the last straw for our swordsman.

He got down angrily and stormed towards the deck where the now quartet performed and turned off the music, only realizing it only triggered his friends’ energy more as they simply went acapella on the song.

Sighs in exasperation and starts walking away when he hears Nami say, “Gosh, (Y/N) is so lucky to have had a guy writing this for her. It’s iconic. Guys, let’s sing it again!!.”

His already bad mood just got worse. Not only the nightmare would go on again, but this stupid song was written for you? Such a pathetic sad love song was written for you? How weak could this man be to weep on the international entertainment scene as he sung for you? Making a show out of himself, how preposterous.

Would throw the speaker overboard if it weren’t Nami’s and would have to pay it back.

Keeps on thinking about the “pathetic song” on his way back up to the crow’s nest and as he laid down on his hammock. Zoro is far from being insecure indeed. He knows you cover him with a love so unique and special, it was bestowed for him. Yet, he could not help but thinking about how he had never been able to express his feelings for you with… this much words and nuances. Hell, he can’t barely remember the last time he ever told you he loved you with words, and had he even said it at all ? And with a love expressed so loudly, maybe your past history was more meaningful to you than the one you’re sharing right now ?

Surprises himself overthinking.

If you decided to hop on the crow’s nest to spend some time with him, be prepared for a needy boyfriend that aches for your touch, reassurance and mostly, to tell you how much you mean to him (but not by singing, that’s still a no.)

[frostdayz]

New Year

Loki x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You find yourself in Asgard spending new years eve night with nothing to do. Loki changes that

warnings: None :)

A/N: happy new years!!!! I wish 2025 is nothing but kind to all of you, enjoy this little thing I cooked up. <3 (repost because my app was glitching

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I had to admit that spending my New Year's in Asgard felt slightly unreal. There were no countdowns, no applause, and no clinking glasses, unlike back home on Midgard. Time seemed odd here, elongated like the stars above us. Perhaps in the palace halls, I had anticipated a peaceful evening when I arrived in Asgard, but Loki had assured me of a surprise. And if I had discovered anything about him, it was that he was always... remarkable in his surprises.

With the light of candles and torches bouncing off the golden ceilings, we strolled through the palace's great corridors. Through the open windows, the aroma of the far-off ocean flooded the crisp, cool air. Loki's mischievous grin crept across his mouth as he guided me through the corridors, his hand brushing mine as if to reassure me that this was just for us—no grand gatherings, no pomp or ceremony.

“I think you'll like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rich with the promise of something thrilling.

We reached a balcony that overlooked the sprawling city of Asgard, the lights from the streets twinkling like stars on the ground. Loki paused, turning to face me. His eyes sparkled with a kind of mischief I had come to adore.

“New Year's isn’t exactly a thing here, is it?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying warmth.

“No, not really,” I replied, glancing at the sky. It was clear, the stars gleaming above us, as though they were watching over the realm. He chuckled, and before I could ask what he meant, his hands raised toward the heavens.

I watched, mesmerized, as he muttered something under his breath. In an instant, his hands began to glow with an ethereal green light, crackling with power. The air around us seemed to hum, and I couldn’t help but gasp as small sparks of light danced between his fingers.

With a snap of his fingers, the first firework exploded into the sky—a brilliant shower of colors that painted the night. Reds, blues, greens, and golds burst into the air, twirling and shimmering like they were alive. I looked at Loki, my eyes wide in surprise, but he only grinned, the faintest glimmer of pride in his gaze.

"Happy New Year, my darling," he said softly, his voice a smooth whisper against the wind.

I stepped closer to him, my heart beating a little faster, not just from the stunning display of colors but from the warmth of his presence. He had always been full of surprises, but this… this was something beyond what I could have ever expected. His magic, his power—he was using it to create something beautiful for me, for us. The fireworks continued, each one more dazzling than the last. The night was alive with bursts of color, filling the sky with wonder. I could hear the soft sounds of the fireworks explosions echoing in the distance, but all I could focus on was Loki, standing beside me, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

He turned to me, his eyes softening, and before I could say anything, his lips found mine. The kiss was gentle at first, slow and tender, but as the fireworks bloomed above us, our kiss deepened. The world felt like it was folding in on itself—the only thing real in that moment was him, and the way his lips moved against mine, the way his hand cupped my face as if he never wanted this moment to end. When we finally pulled away, breathless, the sky was filled with the last of the fireworks—multicolored trails of light and sparkles curling into the blackness of the night, as if the stars themselves were bowing in homage to the magic of the moment.

"Do you like it?" Loki asked, his voice soft, almost shy now. I smiled, my fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, my heart still racing. "It's perfect," I whispered. "Thank you, Loki."

He chuckled, his usual mischief returning as he leaned in to kiss me again, his arms wrapping around me. As the final firework lit the sky, we stood there together, wrapped in each other's embrace, watching the colorful lights paint the night above us.