#yes i listened to it four times in a row today so what

[disaster-racing]

Endless list of the songs I play on repeat: Starburster - Fontaines D.C. (x)

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 29: Coercion/Blackmail - Dark!Marauders

Summary: They were waiting for the ideal chance to find you alone and the perfect opportunity arose when they saw you on the Marauder's map as you were sneaking around the Restricted section of the library.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content, mean!marauders, Slytertherin!Reader, manipulation, coercion, blackmail, threatening, scent smelling, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, restrained, panty sniffing, masturbation, nearly caught, dacryphilia

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Well, well, well boys, look who we’ve got here”, James boasted, shuffling over to where Sirius and Remus sat on either end of the Gryffindor sofa, leaving enough space for him to squeeze in between. The Gryffindor Seeker sat with a smug grin on his handsome face as he displayed the Marauders map for both of his friends to see, pointing directly in the middle where your name hovered.

“Is she in the restricted section of the library?” Remus asked, leaning closer to James to make sure that what he was reading was true.

James looked between Remus and Sirius, still grinning so wide that his cheeks ached, “Yes, she is, Moony. Our slithery little friend seems to be sneaking around in naughty places that she shouldn’t be”.

Sirius sighed heavenly, his body melting back into the overused cushions of the maroon sofa. “Today really is my lucky day”, he admired, all the cruel intentions flashing through his mind with the opportunity presented to him. You were their favourite plaything and had been since the first year. Being in Slytherin, you were natural enemies with the Gryffindors, but as much grief as they gave you, you were always quick to give it back, so it was a constant repeat as to who could best the other.

Now, the opportunity was too perfect for them to pass up on. There you were, in the middle of the night, in the restriction section of the library with no one around, and oh, they were more than ready to confront you. James thought about bringing along his invisibility cloak, but as they were all grown, there wasn’t much space to squish them beneath, so it was easier to use the map to see if there was anyone on the route that they would bump into.

You cursed quietly under your breath; you hated the restricted section. It felt so eerie and dark. However, you were researching some unsanitary subjects that couldn’t be found in the books without chains wrapped around them. Lifting the lamp above your head, you continued to search for the relevant topic, keeping your breathing slow and shallow to listen for any signs that one of the Professors was on patrol nearby.

As you searched through the third row of books, you heard the shuffle of multiple footsteps. Your heart immediately jumped into your throat as you blew out the candle in your lamp and rushed deeper into the restricted section to hide in a dark corner.

“I’d stop running if I were you, little snake. We know you’re here”, Sirius taunted with a cheerful tone to show how delighted he was to be in this situation.

The tip of your wand, defiantly pointing towards them, was what they saw first of you as they held up their wands for light. “What the fuck are you three doing here?” you asked pointedly, rolling your eyes and relaxing the tension that had built since you’d heard the noise.

The three Marauders gathered around you, forming a semi-circle, boxing you into the bookshelf. Even though the four of you were always at loggerheads, you weren’t actually threatened by them. In fact, things between you were borderline between enemies with benefits. They were always upfront about their attraction to you and would frequently tease you because of it. So far, nothing had occurred other than fleeting kisses, but every time the four of you were alone together, the tension was palpable in the atmosphere. You enjoyed this cat-and-mouse game that had developed; even though they were beautiful men, you couldn’t think of anything worse than sleeping with Gryffindors, especially with the rising suspicion from the other Slytherins.

Lowering your wand and tucking it into the pocket of your robe, your eyes flicked between each of them and sharply asked, “How the fuck do you three always find me? Are you stalking me?”

The back of James’ fingers stroked across your cheekbone. A touch that you didn’t flinch away from but gently shoved his hand away as he reached your jaw. Shaking his messy black hair, James smirked, his hazel eyes devouring you in the darkness of his lamp resting on the bookshelf beside you.

Remus’ head condescendingly tilted to the left, “We were just worried for your wellbeing. The restricted section isn’t exactly a welcome place for students”.

It was your turn to develop a smirk as you looked over his body, remembering the event from last week. “You know better than most that I can look after myself, Lupin”. Last Tuesday, he’d accidentally stepped into the way of you practising a particularly brutal jinx during defence against the dark arts.

Remus’ eyelids lowered, so he looked at you through his eyelashes, “I didn’t properly thank you for that one, did I?” Even though he was being sarcastic, you didn’t miss the severe undertone to his baritone voice.

“Poor Moony here had to spend the night in the hospital wing. You’re lucky he’s still just as handsome as before”, Sirius mocks, reaching to grip his friend's face and shaking his head for emphasis until Remus shoves him away.

Once more, you’re rolling your eyes at their antics. “Well, maybe Lupin should watch where he’s walking next time I practise spells”.

James shifts closer as he stands to your left, his body casually leaning against the bookcase, “So hostile tonight, Princess. Do you need some way to get your anger out? I know the perfect way”.

Your eyes seemed to be in a constant state of rolling, finding James’ words more annoying than serious as he licked his bottom lip suggestively.

“Maybe I don’t like being interrupted when trying to do something important. So, why don’t you three run back to your little Gryffindor hiding hole?”.

James cocks his head to the side as he looks back at Sirius and Remus, who has stepped even closer, causing the apples of your cheeks to warm at the increasing temperature, even in the creepy section of the library.

“You know, Moony, I do recall you being head boy”, James casually remarks to Remus, who grins, the pink scars that were still healing down his cheeks stretching with the movement. Glancing down, he held up the shiny pin attached to his pristinely knotted tie, showing you the badge.

“You’d be correct about that, Prongs”.

Sirius now steps forward, mimicking James’ stands, but this time to your right, leaving Remus between them and directly in front of you. “I’d love to know Moony. What would the head boy say to a sneak snake wandering around the castle in the middle of the night and the restricted area no less?” Sirius asks with a fake, quizzical look on his handsome face as some of his long hair slips from behind his ear, causing a sinister shadow to hide part of his smirk.

“Well, Padfoot, I would say to that certain little snake that she was breaking a handful of school rules and deserves to have points taken away from her, a weekend of detentions and the head of Slytherin to be woken and informed”.

You scoff, looking between the three of them as your arms folded across your chest. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious, boys”, your voice is laced with sarcasm, “Your scare tactics won’t work with me”.

“Oh really?” Remus continued, stepping forward and raising his hands to rest on either side of your head, pressing into the chains surrounding the books as he dropped his head to be eye level with you. “The thing is, Love, I’m not joking. Why would I abuse my powers like that?” Glancing over his shoulder to Sirius, he asked, “How long do you think it would take you to get to Slughorn’s office? A couple of minutes?” he turned back towards you. “I’m sure he could get there before you do. Professor Slughorn will be very interested to hear why his favourite student is walking around the restricted section in the middle of the night, don’t you agree?”

Your stomach twisted with unease as your confident exterior began to crack. “Why the fuck would you three care where I am? It’s got nothing to do with any of you. I could just as well wake up Professor McGonagall and tell her you’re all out of bed”.

Remus purses his lips as he fakes contemplation, but it is Sirius who speaks next, joy evident in his voice, “Ah, you see, the thing is beautiful; there’s three of us and only one of you. All it would take is one of us to hold you here and another to go and wake our friend Sluggie. And oh, would you look at that? There’s still one of us spare to help hold you down”.

Your heartbeat begins to increase, causing palpitations beneath your ribs as your anxiety begins to take over. “You guys aren’t funny, you know. You’re wasting my time.” You attempted to keep the facade up that you weren’t bothered by their words, but you knew they weren’t messing around.

Remus suddenly grips your cheeks, causing you to startle and jolt at the rough hold he had, squishing your lips out and forcing your eyes to look only up at him. “We aren’t joking around. We think it’s about time the Slytherins stop getting away with everything, and what better example to use than their silver star? I’m sure you’d continue to be everyone’s favourite when I take away; hmm, would 50 house points be sufficient?”

Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest as you stepped closer to him, now toe to toe, and the tips of your noses nearly brushed together as you tried to look as vicious as possible. “50?! What the fuck is your problem, Lupin?” As you spoke, your fingers reached into your robe to grab your wand, but James was quicker, muttering expelliamous and catching your wand with his nimble fingers.

James tutted, shoving your wand into his pocket within his robe, “You know, Moony, I think another 10 points for the bad language might be a good idea. Why don’t you do that, and Padfoot will go and wake up our favourite potions master?”

You were breathing at a dizzying pace as you looked away from Remus to watch with fear as Sirius began to strut away, his arms swinging leisurely. “Wait! Wait, please!” Sirius stopped walking, turning to look over his shoulder to show you the dazzling smile and quipped up his eyebrow as he waited for you to continue. “What- What do you guys want?” you couldn’t help the stutter, shoulders dropping in defeat as you slumped back against the uncomfortable bookcase.

The long-haired Marauder swaggered back over, delighting evidence on his face as he returned to leaning beside you. A single finger grazes beneath your chin, hooking onto the end and tilting your face towards James as he bragged, “You know what we want”.

Of course, you knew, it was all they ever asked with their perverted minds, always talking with their dicks and then their hearts. It had always been a joke because that was all you had taken it for, a hilarious, sleazy joke.

“That’s always been a joke, so quit playing around”, you say, but the fighting your voice has dimmed.

“Does it look like we’re joking?” James asks.

“So what is this? You’re all blackmailing me so that you can get your dicks wet? I’m sure there are plenty of other pathetic girls who would be more than happy to do what you’re asking”, you say with as much venom as you can muster, but there was no denying the core-clenching pulse that ran through your pussy.

“Oh honey, you know it’s not our dicks that we want to get wet, and there’s no other cunt we’d rather be licking than yours”, Sirius says, tilting his head up to talk in his sweet purr that had your thighs squeezing together in an attempt to relieve some tension that had increased tenfold in your clit. All three of the men in front of you noticed the movement and had to adjust their stances, seeming to be as tall and intimidating as possible, but that only made you more horny.

With all of the previous times that they had made sexual advances, they had not once mentioned their own pleasure. All they’d ever asked and begged to do was have a taste of your pussy.

‘Give us a taste’, ‘I bet you’re nice and sweet’, ‘I can get you gushing against my tongue, Princess’.

It was always comments like these that had you either jinxing them, rolling your eyes or simply walking away to the comfort of your bed, curtains closed so you could imagine the acts with your fingers between your legs. It was almost a daily occurrence that you masturbated to the thought of the three of them in your bed, and it would be easy just to give in and say yes to their requests. Still, you would never lower yourself to sleeping with a Gryffindor, let alone the three most arrogant and infamous students throughout Hogwarts.

However, now you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. You knew that if you said no, you could have the detention and deducted points, and they would happily walk you down to Slughorn's office. But, to be truthful, there was a small part of you that was becoming bored with the cat-and-mouse chase, that part being your cunt.

Sirius replaced the finger under your chin, turning you to look up at home, “So? What do you say? We don’t expect anything from you, but each of us gets a taste, and we’ll let you go on your merry way”.

You sigh through your nose, chewing on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer, even though you know already what you are going to say. “I know I’m going to regret this”.

Sirius moves so close that you can see the different shades of grey in his eyes, “Trust me, Sweetheart, you aren’t going to regret this for a second. I can guarantee that”.

Your eyes flick between his and his dangerous lips, a movement that has him grinning and showing his perfectly pearly teeth, knowing your answer because you even say it.

“Fine. But I’m not touching any of you, and after, you have to promise that you’ll let me walk away without losing any points or waking up Slughorn”.

“Your wish is our command, ma’am” James dramatically bows to add to the performance.

Your sigh brushes over Sirius’ face as you move back to look at them individually. “So how do you want to do this? Shall we go to a classroom or something?”

Remus shakes his head, nodding towards your skirt, “Take off your underwear”.

Okay, so they were expecting to do it in the middle of the restricted section of the library. You were thankful for wearing a skirt to keep some of your modesty as you shimmied the material down your legs and stepped out of it. Before you could hide them in your pocket, Sirius was snatching them from your hands and stuffed them into his back pocket.

As your mouth snapped open to argue with him to give the underwear back, Remus was distracting you by dropping onto his knees. As he lifted the edge of your skirt, Sirius and James grabbed onto a leg each and lifted you to sit on the shelf of the bookcase, holding each limb up until your knees were as close to your chest as possible, spreading you open for Remus.

All you were able to do was hold onto the sturdy shelf above your head, fumbling with your words with how embarrassed you were to be completely exposed to them all as the positioning of your legs now pushed your skirt away.

Remus groaned hungrily, taking a deep sniff as he leaned in close. You gaped at him, internally cringing and embarrassed that he was actually smelling your arousal. Before you could tell him to stop, his hands were roughly parting your folds, presenting your dripping hole further for him as your hips bucked at the contact. It was filthy watching him stick his long tongue out and lick a long strip from your perineum up to your engorged clit.

His big green eyes never left yours, and you were captivated by looking away, crying out and needing more as it truly dawned on you that this was actually happening. Remus seemed to simultaneously be touching all parts of your cunt with his wet, wide tongue, digging into your clenching hole, slurping out the juices that were seeping out and then lewdly sucking on your bundle of nerves until you were whining from the overstimulation.

It was all Remus had ever wanted, and it seemed he was good at it, and for a second, you regretted all the time wasted having said no to them all. Your fingers dropped to hold onto his head, keeping him close and using it to try and buc your hips to ride his face, but with the men holding up your legs, it was difficult to move.

If he was spelling your name with his tongue against your clit, he was delving it as deep within your cunt as possible. The noises coming from both you and him were filthy, and it took an embarrassingly short amount of time before you were cuming, eyes closing and head tilting back as your walls clamped down around his tongue in quick bursts of euphoria. 

He didn’t stop stimulating you until you were slumping back against the books, and Sirius was quick to drop your leg and replace the positions with Remus, dropping to his knees in front of you as Remus stood, still licking his lips and holding onto your leg.

To their credit, they only used their mouths, and for a minute, you had contemplated begging for more, but your ego kept your lips sealed tightly. Sirius didn’t give you any time to try and catch your breath before he had his own taste, his mouth warmer than Remus’. With his tongue sticking out, he shook his head like he was trying to dig his way right into the centre of your core.

Your fingers were sliding through his silky hair, pulling on him to try and get him to slow down, but he liked the pain that came with the hair pulling, so it only pushed him on further. Sirius's hands rested on your hips, pulling your body onto the edge of the shelf so he could move his face harder against you. As he fucked your pussy with his tongue, he pushed the tip of his nose against your clit, sending scorching pleasure into your abdomen.

Just as you were on the very brink of an orgasm, Sirius’ mouth disappeared from you entirely so he could watch your body tremble and pulse with the need to cum but not be given the proper stimulation for it.

“Fucking hell Sirius, just let me cum already!” you hissed at him, losing some of the control over the situation.

Sirius doesn’t say a word, but he does laugh heartedly as his face attached to your mound once more, delving between your folds and licking until you were cumming with mind-spinning pleasure.

James didn’t even wait until your orgasm had subsided before he pulled back Sirius’ head and shoved him out of the way, dropping to his knees and beginning his feast. Sirius didn’t argue with him but stood to hold onto your leg, the lower half of his face gleaming with juices and pink from being rubbed against.

The glasses on James’ face were cold against your skin as the rim of them pressed into your mound. He gathered as much spit onto the tip of his tongue and let it drip over your pussy, spreading it around with his tongue until you were as sloppy as possible.  This only added more pleasure to do, feeling how wet everything was down there, the whisps of air cooling certain areas before he was back sucking and licking at it.

Just as you were getting into it and falling into the pleasure that was causing your body to jolt as you were becoming extremely overstimulated, a heavy thump sounded from the entrance to the library. A breath later, all of the lamps were extinguished by Remus’ wand, descending you all into darkness as you anticipated them all to stop. Except, they didn’t. James continued as if nothing had changed, but now his hand was covering your mouth to help keep your moans muffled.

You were beyond tense, hands shoving at any body part of the three men you could reach, trying to stop them from holding you in place. A faint light glowed from a few rows away, and to your horror, you realised just how close you were to being caught by one of the professors, being held down and eaten out by three men.

It was so overwhelming that a few tears escaped the corner of your eye as a quiet sob slipped from your chest. Remus pushed his body in closer, “Shhh Princess, it’s ok. Once you cum for prongs, this all stops”.

Thankfully, as he finished talking, the light began to disappear, and the Professor decided there was no use checking the restricted section as there was never anyone this far into the room. With the light gone, you could finally lose control, still crying as James sucked violently for as long as he could against your clit until you were bucking your hips and flooding his mouth with squirt as you came hard.

It took a long couple of seconds for your pussy to calm down from the orgasm, but even as your walls stopped contracting, they still continued to throb in time with your heartbeat. Your entire body was aching, especially your legs and chest from where you’d been crying. The lights of their lamps were illuminated once more to reveal James looking at a piece of parchment, announcing that the coast was clear. You didn’t have the energy to ask what he was holding as Remus and Sirius helped your feet back to the ground.

With your legs now together, you could feel just how swollen and puffy your clit and folds were from being poked and prodded by three mouths. Your knees also struggled to hold your weight as you clung to Remus, who helped you stay upright and find the energy to stand by yourself.

For once, there are no condescending or mean words coming from him as he gently cups the back of your head and strokes the space between your shoulders in calm circles as your sobs slow to a quiet hiccup.

Eventually, as the clock tower bell chimes to symbolise that it is 2 a.m., you are able to pull away from Remus, wiping the wetness from your face with the back of your robe and then straightening your skirt. Glancing over to Sirius, you held out a hand to him and a hand to James.

James gave you back your wand, but Sirius simply patted himself down and looked at you with a frown, “Hmm, seems I’ve lost your underwear. Sorry, Princess”.

You don’t have the energy to argue with him as you sigh, “You don’t tell a soul about what’s happened here.” You point your finger at each of them, but James responds.

“Wouldn’t dream of telling anyone. But I will be dreaming about you tonight when I’m touching my cock with your taste still in my mouth”.

Your face heats with embarrassment as your eyes trained on the floor, lifting your lamp and beginning to limp away, trying to hold as much dignity as possible. Still, it was difficult with how uncomfortable and sensitive you were feeling, depending on bookcases to lean on as you made your way out of the library and back towards the Slytherin common room.

As soon as you are out of sight, Sirius sighs, dropping hushed back against the bookcase you were just leaning on and unzips his pants, pulling your underwear that he hadn’t lost from out of his pocket and holding it up to his face. With his cock free, he has no shame as he touches himself vigorously and, in a matter of seconds, cums all over the floor.

Remus frowns, looking down at the thick globs decorating the floor, “Really, Padfoot? You couldn’t wait until we were back to the dormitory?”

“I’ve never had blue balls like that in my life. It was fucking hurting Moony, give me a break”.

Remus shifts his own cock in the restraint of his trousers as James says over his shoulder, “She's heading straight towards  Filch. Shouldn’t we go and stop her?”

Rems peers over his friend's shoulder, looking at the open Marauders map and watches as your name floats towards Filch. The tallest Marauder shrugs, “No, it’ll teach her a lesson about being out of bed after hours”. They all share a dark grin and begin to gather their stuff before walking out of the library.

[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): ermm nothing rly, just a debate in class maybe

authors note: giving u guys a roommate since we introduced lorenzo to the series !! aria will be good !!

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

trailing into your english class, you head straight for your seat near the front. you use the exact same seat in all of your classes. it isn’t really on purpose, but it works, and it’s usually always open.

you only know a few students from this class, including your roommate aria, whose self-assigned seat is right by yours. it’s no surprise that the you join together in the first and second row, with aria in the first and you in the second, just behind her.

 as you settle your bag below your seat, you pull your laptop and notebook on top of your lap, getting ready to start your third class of the day. you’re planning on speaking with your professor after class about an essay draft you formed last night like he requested, but probably later in the day or after this period, depending on how eager you are. just to get it out of the way, signs point to very.

“excuse me,” a girl says as she appears beside the second row with some students behind her. you look up and are almost dumbfounded to lock eyes with one of the students, elara, accompanied by her friends . . . rafe and lorenzo. seriously?

you know that you share the class with the three of them but there’s usually a nonspoken rule that you don’t sit by each other. rafe and his friends usually stay in the back and whisper amongst themselves about probably the stupidest shit ever. whatever.

elara sends a kind, but somehow impatient, smile your way as she waits.

hesitantly you pull your legs further into you as much as you can, and the three students shuffle past you to settle in some seats just a few away, visibly marking their distance from you like it was necessary. as they pass, you look up, barely making eye contact with the opposite roommates as one finds no purpose in paying any mind to her while the other is too busy chatting with elara to even acknowledge you.

lorenzo has nothing but a notebook tucked under his armpit as he steps pass, a long story being recalled to elara who listens happily. rafe is right behind him, an apple between his teeth, looking stupid as ever. but at least you get some sort of acknowledgment from him.

his eyes only flicker down at you, probably to make sure he isn’t stepping over anything of yours, and his gaze briefly trails up to meet your own. there’s still no emotion. nothing from him. it’s frustrating.

he takes one last shuffle past you and then joins elara and lorenzo in their seats. you grimace as you watch them perch, your eyes immediately shifting to aria in front of you, who watched the whole thing.

her eyes told you everything. what the hell are they doing over here?

i don’t know, you send back quickly with a shrug, then look to the professor and open up your notebook. as class begins, you can’t help but send glances toward the trio next to you.

the professor clears his throat, his gaze sweeping over the room. “good morning, everyone. let’s jump right into today’s discussion,” he says, and you mentally prepare yourself on your notes and reading from the past week. “can anyone tell me their thoughts on the catcher in the rye?”

aria’s hand shoots up instinctively, her heart pounding with anticipation. you know she has been prepared extensively for this discussion all week.

“yes, arabella?” the professor calls on her, nodding in her direction.

she sets her hand down, and you can just hear the smile on her face from being able to not only discuss but be the first one to. “i think that the book is an exploration of adolescence and the struggle for identity,” she begins, her voice steady. “holden caulfield’s journey is a reflection of the universal desire to find meaning in a world filled with phoniness and hypocrisy.”

you feel the courage to raise your own hand right after her. prof thompson gives extra points for participation. what’s the harm?

“i believe holden caulfield is a complex character,” you add onto aria. “while some might see him as a disillusioned and cynical teenager, i kind of feel sympathy for him. he’s struggling with that hypocrisy and phoniness he perceives in the adult world, and his desire for authenticity and connection is palpable throughout the entire novel.”

although aria is nodding in agreement in front of you, you take a deep breath, your confidence faltering slightly when you notice rafe, lorenzo, and elara exchanging amused glances.

but even as you were talking, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. were they laughing at you? or were they just sharing a private joke together? the uncertainty is gnawing at you.

before the professor can move on to the next topic, rafe raises his hand confidently, “i have to disagree,” he starts with, and you can feel yourself roll your eyes instinctively. his voice is just dripping with cockiness. “holden is nothing more than a whiny, entitled brat who refuses to take responsibility for his own actions.”

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. you didn’t expect rafe to have an opinion, let alone one that’s completely against yours . . . about a book! you’ve never seen rafe read a single book back home.

you turn to him, confusion clear in my voice. “you’ve actually read catcher in the rye?”

rafe shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. “what, like it was hard?” he retorts, earning a few chuckles from his friends, even a few students. okay elle woods.

no this is rafe cameron, guys. since when did the guy ever pick up a book and participate in weekly discussions?

you avoid eye contact with the boy, though you scoff at him, your voice tinged with defiance. “well clearly you missed the point,” you shoot back. you’re only more determined to continue the argument. maybe take out all the anger you’ve gathered since the whole silent treatment thing.

even though you started it (with good reason and the intention for it not to last very long), now you’ve just been upset that there hasn’t been any closure because both sides haven’t been willing to talk to the other.

“i have to agree with y/n here,” aria chimes in, her voice calm. “holden caulfield’s disillusionment stems from a deeper existential crisis. he’s grappling with the loss of innocence and the harsh realities of adulthood, which is something countless of teenagers can relate to.”

you nod in agreement, grateful for aria’s support. “exactly,” you say, your confidence only bolstered by your friend’s validation. “holden’s struggle to find authenticity in a world filled with a lack of it is a universal theme that resonates with readers of . . . of all ages.”

the classroom buzzes with excitement as the three classmates passionately defend their interpretation of the novel. some students nod in agreement, while others furrow their brows in thought.

but before the tension could escalate further, professor thompson intervenes, a playful twinkle in his eye. “alright, enough you guys,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “although i’d love to hear you go on and on about this, we do have other topics to cover today.”

“great job on your essay draft, y/n,” thompson says, handing you back the stapled pages with a smile. his praise warms your heart and mind. it’s like a reward.

“thank you so much,” you respond, tucking the draft into your bag with a sense of accomplishment.

“yes, i particularly enjoyed the part about the protagonist’s existential crisis,” he adds, and you look up with raised brows. “really deep stuff,” he says.

you laugh and nod. “oh, that part? not gonna lie, it took me about three hours and a lot of coffee to come up with that.”

professor thompson chuckles. “well, it paid off. your insights are always a breath of fresh air in class discussions.l

“glad to hear it,” you say, feeling a bit more at ease. moments like these make the late nights and endless cups of coffee feel just a little worth it.

“one more thing before you leave," he adds, and your curiosity piques as you pause your bag-packing. you hum. “i actually need you to take on a tutoring assignment for me,” he begins, and you nod, already thinking about the extra cash you’ll earn. tutoring has always been a reliable source of income for you.

“sure, no problem. who is it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the usual names of students who struggle with their coursework.

“rafe cameron.”

the name hits you like a ton of bricks, and your heart drops. rafe cameron? of all people? the one person you’ve managed to avoid for the past week after what happened in his dorm room. you have to tutor rafe again? and now he’s failing english too? it makes your stomach churn just thinking about it all.

“rafe?” you echo, trying to mask your emotions even though you know you’re visibly upset.

“yes, rafe," professor thompson confirms, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “he’s struggling in english, and with the upcoming exam, i think it would be beneficial for him to have your guidance. you’ve proven to be an excellent tutor, crawford’s said!”

“so you know from crawford that i’ve already tutored rafe cameron, professor thompson,” you say, “wouldn’t it be fair to let rafe be tutored by . . . someone else? we have this saying ‘true tutors take turns’!”

“y/n please, no one says that.”

you falter and drop your expression, deadpanning at the man before you. “okay but it makes sense.”

“i’d recommend you contact him as soon as possible. the exam is next week, and he could really use the help.”

you nod, your mind racing. you know you can’t refuse; it's your responsibility as a tutor. and you need the money. but the thought of breaking the silent treatment and being the one to have to approaching the other person first makes you uneasy.

“okay,” you finally agree, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “i’ll reach out to him today.”

“thank you, y/n. i knew i could count on you," professor thompson says with a reassuring smile.

you walk out of his office, the weight of the new assignment pressing down on you. what could possibly get worse? you wonder as you head towards your next class, already dreading the conversation you'll have to start with rafe.

as you walk across campus, your mind replays the events of the past few weeks. you think about the tutoring session that initially went surprisingly well, and how rafe had actually passed his humanities exam with flying colors. it was a side of him you hadn’t expected—one that was hardworking and capable.

the memory of congratulating him, only to be met with his mood swings, still stings. you still have no idea what that was all about.

you replay the moment in his dorm room over and over in your mind. you were only there to congratulate him on his A, and yet he accused you of hitting on his roommate. and you didn’t even mean to give him the silent treatment for this long, but his reaction had caught you off guard. and when he stopped trying to get your attention, it’s left you feeling strangely empty.

oh my, this is such a mess, you think. why does it have to be him?

you try to focus on the positive. maybe this is an opportunity to clear the air. maybe working together again will force you both to talk about what happened. or maybe it’ll just be another disaster waiting to happen.

your steps slow as you approach the library, where you’ll be hanging out until your next class. you pull out your phone, staring at rafe’s contact information. you hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. what if he refuses? what if he’s still angry? or worse, what if he doesn't care at all?

taking a deep breath, you finally send a brief, professional message:

‘ rafe, it's y/n. thompson asked me to help u with ur english exam prep. let me know when ur available to meet ’

you hit send and pocket your phone, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation. there’s literally no turning back now.

you just hope that this time, things will go differently.

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa

[dilf-din]

Hand Under my Sweatshirt, Baby Kiss it Better

Poe Dameron x f!reader | part two to Emergency Contact (college friends/modern au)

WC: 4650

Warnings: friends to lovers, brief negative self image talk, alcohol mention

A/N: this is honestly one of my favorite mini series I’ve ever written. Poe is so fun to write, and I hope you love him as much as I do 🫶🏼

It had been weeks since you woke up beside Poe with blurry vision and a quickening heartbeat. Nothing happened outside of the tender gaze you caught him casting your way in the gloomy winter light.

“You still snore.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, slinging a small pillow across your chest at him.

The two of you shared a late breakfast of cold pizza followed by an awkward long goodbye before he walked out of your apartment, leaving you feeling like you were once again caught in the tailspin of him. You sat on your couch feeling stunned by the events of the last twelve hours while August hopped on the arm next to you. Your fingers absentmindedly ran through the fur between his ears while you tried to remember if you said anything embarrassing the night before.

It was Poe, you reminded yourself, there is no embarrassment with him. He’s the warmest person you’ve ever known. No one can bring a room together like him. Poe was the guy in the group who always made eye contact to make sure you knew someone was listening. He opened the door at every gathering, even if he wasn’t the host, and led people to beer, the bathroom, the coat rack, their friends. You had always been proud to call yourself his friend. He had helped you fake reference calls for jobs, sweet talk professors, and get out of at least a dozen bad first dates. He would show up with the a story so improbable, you would roll your eyes if it was falling from anyone else’s lips, but he sold it every time, dragging you back to the pavement and cackling as you called him on his bullshit.

“Hey, did I deliver or did I deliver, Ace?” he would grin.

“You’re an idiot. I owe you one,” you would shake your head in disbelief.

“It’s on the house,” he would beam, leaning off the curb to hail a nearby cab.

The sound of your coworker calling your name brought you back to reality.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, pulling your glasses from your face and pinching the bridge of your nose to relieve the slight headache that had accumulated from staring at a screen all morning.

“I said, your lunch date is here,” she said in a sing songy voice.

“Lunch date? What lunch date?” you asked, scanning over the tops of the rows of cubicles to see Poe’s mess of curls standing near the neon sign at the entrance.

“Kate!” you hissed, dropping your head down, “That’s’ him,” you mouthed.

Her eyes went wide.

“The guy from the other night? The guy from college?” she whispered.

“Yes,” you hissed out as you frantically checked your reflection in your phone’s front facing mirror. You were not dressed for an outing today, wearing a years old sweater over a shirt with a stain that you had tucked into a pencil skirt. The only saving grace was the new boots you had worn that made your legs look amazing.

“Tell him I’m grabbing my stuff,” you said to her as you bent down to fish your purse out from under your desk, promptly hitting your head in the process.

“Mother fu-“

“Is today a bad day, Ace?” Poe’s voice called from much closer than you expected him.

Heat flushed into your face as you tried to delicately pull yourself out from under your desk without snagging your hair or a loose thread on anything.

“No, sorry, I just. I just wasn’t expecting this,” you stammered.

“No, I should’ve called first,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward himself. “I was just literally in the neighborhood. I had a meeting four floors up this morning. Do you have time for lunch?”

“Yeah! Yeah I was just about to stop. What did you have in mind?” you smiled.

“Let’s get sandwiches and go for a walk,” he smiled, offering his arm for you to pull yourself up. He held open your jacket for you to slip into, and handed you your purse once you had secured your buttons.

Poe looked dapper as always, dressed in a sleek pair of slacks with an orange button down tucked in under a black peacoat and houndstooth scarf. The late winter wind was doing God’s work to muss his thick curls and kiss his cheeks a lovely shade of red. You walked arm in arm with him, waiting for him to spark up a conversation, but he was oddly quiet, his brow furrowed as if he was preoccupied.

“Did things blow over with your roommate?” you asked casually. Your question seemed to draw him back to the present.

His eyes widened and brightened as he responded, “Oh yeah, we’re fine. Our lease is up next month anyway and I’ve got a place lined up pretty close to yours, actually,” he shared nonchalantly.

Hearing that he would be closer made your heartbeat quicken in an achingly embarrassing way. Suddenly, you felt like a teenager with a crush again.

“Oh. With roommates or alone?”

“It’ll be my first big boy apartment,” he smiled cheekily.

“We’ll have to throw you a housewarming,” you nudged his ribs with the elbow that was linked with his, “Get everyone together, some beer and take out, we’ll get you set up in no time.”

“That would be nice, Ace,” he smiled thoughtfully, cocking his head to one side, admiring your caring heart and the way the sun brought out the brightest flecks in your eyes.

The conversation flowed easily after that as you followed him into his favorite sandwich shop and then into the park across the street. It was mostly filled with people running alone on their lunch breaks, with headphones in and sweat glistening even in the chilly air, but there were a few pairs chatting on one of the walking trails.

By now, you had unlinked elbows so you could tear into the parchment paper wrapping the sandwiches you had picked out. Poe of course had paid for yours, sending you a wink as you rummaged through your bag for your wallet.

The first bite was heaven in your mouth. The sandwich gods shined down on you as you took in all the fresh baked bread and hand sliced meat and cheeses. A groan slipped out involuntarily, but you were too shocked to care.

“Right?” Poe asked through a mouthful, swallowing before continuing, “I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.”

“This might be my new go-to lunch spot,” you said, eagerly taking another bite.

Conversation was light as you both ate your lunches, taking care to move out of the way for joggers and bikers as you walked slowly around the track. Dappled sunlight kissed the ground where it could find it through the cover of the trees. A wind stirred the waters of the small pond while a family of ducks floated in the very center, like a painting in real life.

The two of you had just rounded the last corner of the track when Poe’s watch buzzed on his wrist. He checked it with a furrowed brow and sighed.

“I’ve gotta start making my way back, Ace.”

“Me too,” you agreed, checking the time on your phone.

“Teeth check,” he announced and you both flashed a wide grin at each other to make sure there was nothing stuck, a practice you had started in college after a cilantro incident.

“All clear,” you nodded.

“Perfect,” he said, warm brown eyes lingering on your features fondly.

You suddenly felt uncomfortable and cast your eyes to the ground, toeing at a pebble stuck in a crack.

You both spoke at the same time, chuckling, while you gestured for him to go first.

“Ace I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted out, “Please let me take you out sometime?”

A date with Poe Dameron? A cocktail of joy and insecurity brewed in the pit of your belly. You’ve always wished to be one of the girls on his arm, but that was just it. Poe had experience, he was charismatic and fun and spontaneous. Sure, you had dated here and there, but nothing ever stuck. In the back of your mind, you knew you had never really been able to fully give yourself to someone because they weren’t him.

“I don’t know,” you said hesitantly, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea, maybe the best I’ve ever had. I’m just sorry it took me so long,” he said, stepping further into your space.

Poe drew in a deep breath before continuing, “Ace, call me crazy, say the word and I’ll drop it forever, but there’s something here. There always has been, and I think there always will be.”

You swallowed hard before casting your gaze up into his eyes, rich with sincerity and longing. The anxiety that this was all an elaborate joke dissipated when you saw the way he looked at you. Poe always saw you, even when you were gawky kids. He loved you steadfastly through flings and summers abroad and finals and midterms. And here, now, you could feel just how much he meant the things he was saying.

A lump in your throat formed and tears pricked at your eyes. You tried to hide it, but he saw the change in your demeanor, causing his own face to fall.

“Hey, talk to me,” he pulled you to the side of the path to give another runner space to pass and to allow you a little more privacy. His hands stayed cupping your elbows, a thumb rubbing the sharp edge sweetly through the thick fabric of your coat.

“What if we’re wrong? What if we can’t go back to the way things were?” you whispered bittersweetly, a single tear slipping down your cheek. You had lost him so many times before, watched him date and charm so many others. You weren’t sure your heart could handle it again if this ended poorly.

Poe shook his head adamantly, “Ace, I’ve never been so sure. Please give me a chance. Friday night. I’ll pick you up. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

You nodded and he drew you into a hug, gentle hands rubbing right between your shoulder blades. The scent of him on the collar of his jacket smelled like home, and you nuzzled into his neck for a single, indulgent second.

His own eyes closed as he relished the familiar scent of your shampoo, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Poe hesitantly let you out of his embrace, giving you one more smile before you parted ways back to your separate offices.

Your head and heart pounded with each step as you tried to convince yourself that this was reality. You were going on a date with the boy you loved, and you were starting to think that he might love you too.

——

When Friday rolled around, things could not have gone worse from the moment you woke up late. It was like an avalanche of bad luck had been waiting to crash down on you. August threw up in the shoes you were going to wear, resulting in an unplanned outfit change and missing your train. A late train meant no breakfast, and your entire department got reamed by your boss for something that wasn’t even your fault. So when you finally trudged through the door with the clock nearing six, you tried to rally any pleasantness that still lied within you, faked a smile in the small flower mirror hanging by the door as you shed your coat and the shoes that had rubbed blisters into your heels.

August mewled quietly, staring up at you with apologetic blue eyes as he rounded the corner of the kitchen island.

“Don’t eat my leftovers off the counter next time,” you chided lightly, giving his head a rub. A sigh escaped your lips as you headed to your room in search of an outfit for tonight. Poe had specified somewhere between cocktail and black tie for the dress code, snd you hoped you could scrape something together that fit the bill. There were a few dresses hanging at the very end of your closet that you typically saved for weddings. None of them were spectacular. Most of them came off the clearance rack, just picking whatever they had in your size. None of them were a real representation of your style or things that made you feel confident.

As you were perusing your options, your phone buzzed on the end of the bed, showing an incoming call from Kate.

You put her on speaker and explained to her your dilemma.

“The green one is nice!” she enthused.

“Yeah but it has that ruching that’s so,” you couldn’t even find the words to finish the sentence.

The two of you bounced ideas back and forth as you became increasingly upset at your lack of options. Your hair still needed some love and there was the burden of makeup to face as well.

Your phone buzzed again, and you checked to see Poe calling.

“Shoot, I’ve got to answer.”

“Good luck, babe,” Kate said, trying to sound cheerful as you switched to the other line.

“Hey, Ace! How goes it?”

“Um, I’m a little behind schedule,” you admitted sheepishly.

“That’s okay. I’m actually done early so I don’t mind waiting. I’m headed out the door now,” Poe explained as he propped the phone up on his shoulder and fished his keys from the hook by the door.

The tears were back and you tried your best to mask the heavy emotion in your voice.

“Okay, I’ll do my best to be ready,” but it came out shaky.

“Ace? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I just had a hard day. I’m really looking forward to this,” you said, which was actually true. But the words came out with a sniffle, and he was fully unconvinced.

“Hang tight, I’ll be there soon,” he responded with a determination you knew all too well.

“Drive safe,” you called out as the phone went silent.

You squeezed into a dress and did your best to fix your leftover hair from the work day, still more displeased than pleased with the results. You had just pulled on another pair of shoes that rubbed your fresh blisters and winced as you made your way to the knock at the door.

Poe was standing there in sweats with two large paper grocery bags and a bottle of wine.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking a step back and allowing him space to enter your apartment.

“I’m not gonna make you go out when you’re crying, Ace. I know that’s not even close to your first choice on a good day,” he explained as he set the bags and bottle on the counter. He shucked a backpack from his shoulders and handed you a pair of his sweatpants and a grey tee shirt that he fished from the biggest compartment.

“Go put this on, and I’ll get started on dinner.”

For the third time, tears welled in your eyes and you were speechless as he pulled you into a strong embrace.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured in your ear, nuzzling his nose against it.

It was the first time you felt so fully known, and it terrified and comforted you, as love often did.

“Go,” he urged, “Go shower. You can help me when you’re done,” he smiled sincerely.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, as any other words failed to come.

——

The warmth of your shower was like absolution from your day. You dried off feeling ten pounds lighter, and stared fondly at the clothes he brought for you to wear. They fit like a hug from an old friend, the embrace of a lover. Steam escaped into your room as you exited and rejoined Poe.

You two had hung out together countless times, but this time felt different, because it was. Anticipation threaded your veins as you rounded the corner back into the kitchen.

The sound of your favorite Chicago album carried over the noise of the kitchen, and you smiled at the thought of him thumbing through your records to find something you would enjoy. Poe hummed softly along as he diced a shallot and scraped it next to a neatly chopped pile of herbs. He was wearing black joggers with a white stripe down the side and a tight fitting black tee that hugged his lean frame.

Overcome with a shot of boldness, you crossed the space separating you and wound your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek into the chiseled space between his shoulders. His hips were swaying lightly to the music playing, and you joined him in the subtle motion.

“Hey beautiful,” he said softly, lifting an arm to pull you against his chest, “Feeling better?”

You nodded and peered into the pans of sizzling food.

“Shrimp scampi,” he explained, giving you two squeezes on your waist to signify he needed to move his arm and continue cooking.

Your favorite meal. A smile crossed your lips as you stepped back to see what needed to be done.

“Can you get the bread in the oven?” he asked over his shoulder.

With a nod, you got to work.

As much as he wanted to press about the state you were in when he arrived, he gifted you with even more time to unwind your thoughts as the two of you only traded comments about the meal you were preparing.

It didn’t take long for the last elements to come together and for the two of you take a seat at your small dining set. Poe lit a few candles he had packed, and dimmed the kitchen lights to wash everything in a warm, orange glow matching his aura.

He uncorked the wine, and poured it with a flourish. It was a white Zinfandel, but a few labels above what you would normally indulge in for yourself.

He sat across from you, taking in the sight of your features in the candlelight, your still wet hair and fresh face. Poe swallowed down a lump as he willed himself not to mess this up like he had so many other things in the past. He waited a few bites before striking up conversation.

“How is it?” he asked, twirling some pasta onto his fork.

“Perfect. This is perfect,” you smiled warmly, allowing yourself a moment of happiness before guilt started biting at your ankles again, and your face fell. “I’m sorry about your reservations. I feel like I spoiled the whole evening you had planned.”

“Hey, don’t do that. Spending time with you was the plan. Now, unless you secretly think this scampi is horrible, nothing has been ruined,” he teased.

“No! It’s really great. This was all so thoughtful.”

“Tell me what happened today? What got you all bent out of shape?” his hand closed the small gap between you and rested on top of yours.

Heat spread up your arm to your neck and cheeks, seeming to radiate from the small point of contact he was offering you. So many nights spent wondering what his hands would feel like on your skin. It was enough to make you short circuit almost, but you collected yourself, and began to recount the details of your day from hell.

His brow set heavy as he hung on every word, eyes rising and falling with sympathy as it kept seeming to get worse. The grip of his hand tightening around yours when your voice faltered on the portion of getting yelled at by your supervisor.

“That guy’s an ass,” he said bitterly.

“He’s just a nepo baby,” you rolled your eyes, “His uncle is one of our chief partners.”

“Take me to your next Christmas party and I’ll spill a drink on him,” he promised, picking up the wine glass with his free hand and taking a long sip.

Christmas was almost a year away. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really saw a future with you.

The two of you continued your meal as he shared about his own day and upcoming moving plans. When your plates and glasses were empty, Poe stood up and offered you a hand which you took without hesitation.

“I brought a few of your favorites,” he gestured at the coffee table. The hand he had used to help you out of your chair was still intertwined with yours, causing your heartbeat to drum all the way to the top of your head, and you were worried he would see you shaking with each thump.

“Hmmm. The Princess Diaries,” you smiled.

“Perfect,” he squeezed your hand, “You pop it in, and I’ll get one last surprise.

Poe headed into the kitchen while you cracked open the old dvd case and slipped it into your beat up player from college.

The familiar title music had just started playing when he sat down on the couch presenting a plate with the biggest cannoli you had ever seen.

“I was gonna grab forks, but that seemed like a lost cause,” he chuckled.

“I don’t mind sharing with you,” your hand slid to his lower thigh, rubbing a thumb over his knee before retracting.

It felt like playing with electricity, toying with a live wire to finally touch him beyond a friendly hug. He felt it too.

The pink in his cheeks gave you a smug feeling, to know you weren’t imagining the effect you had on him.

He cleared his throat a little and leaned farther back into the sofa, creating space for you to join him. You pulled your legs up and shook out your faded blanket over them before settling into his side.

“You still have this old thing?”

“It could say the same about you,” you teased, wiggling your shoulder against his ribs and drawing out a chuckle.

“That’s fair, that’s fair,” he conceded.

Several minutes later, when the cannoli was as long gone, you were fully stretched across his lap while his hand traced lines up and down your back. Featherlight touches and rougher scratches made you melt into him. He reveled in the feel of you against him, almost coming undone at the sight of you in his shirt, hair messily fanned over his lap and torso.

When his hand rested at the small of your back, you took a deep breath.

“Poe, what are we doing?”

You felt him tense beneath you, and righted yourself so you could look him in the eye.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he instantly questioned, filled with worry at souring his chance with you.

“No, no it’s not that. Can I just be honest for a minute?”

“‘Course, Ace,” he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingers lightly brushing your cheek.

One moment of bravery was all you needed to finally know peace.

You looked down at his feet and drew a deep breath before looking him in the eye again.

“I have loved you since I was eighteen years old,” your voice wavered, coming out as barely a whisper. “I have watched you try with girl after girl, heard about date after date, all the time just wanting so desperately to be one of them. But now that I’m older, I don’t just want to be one of the girls in your life, Poe, I want to be the girl.”

His soft eyes locked with yours as you felt emboldened to continue spilling your guts.

“I know my worth, and if this is just another fling to you, I want out. I owe myself that much.”

He waited another beat to make sure you were finished before responding.

“Ace,” he breathed out your name so tenderly, “Do you know why it never worked with those other girls?” he ducked his head down to meet your gaze again.

“They weren’t you. They could never be you. I’ve been such a mess since I was a kid, and I didn’t want to get you tangled up in that, in me. I know what you deserve, which is why I feel out of my mind for even asking that you would give me a chance,” he swallowed hard, “No one knows me like you, they never could.”

The air was thick with things left unsaid for nearly a decade, heavy words that left a decision to be made by the both of you.

Poe reached out to cup your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into it, always chasing his warmth.

“I’m in if you are,” you smiled, your voice low, only for the two of you.

His pupils widened, a physical embodiment of hope sparking, and another laugh spilled from his plush lips.

“I’m in. I’m so in. You’re crazy if you think I’m ever letting you go,” he laughed, pressing his forehead to yours and wrinkling his nose.

“Poe?” you whispered, so close he could feel your breath on his lips.

“Yeah, Ace?”

“Please kiss me,” your lips brushed his as the words fell, and he took the invitation with open hands, an open mouth, and an open heart.

He swallowed your question until you were sharing one breath, his lips moving against yours fervently. His hand never left the firm hold he had on your cheek reaching around to the back of your neck, using it as leverage to angle you closer.

You sighed into his mouth as his other hand found your waist, and he finally knew what heaven felt like.

Taut, sinewy arms enveloped you in a way you had only know in your dreams. His curls invited you to tangle your hands in them, drawing a groan from him as you tugged.

“You’re killing me”, he laughed against your lips.

“Let me live my fantasy for just another minute,” you nipped at his neck and he threw his head back to further expose his throat to you.

You could’ve sank a pair of fangs into him, drained him of all life, and he would’ve let you, thanked you, even. Poe was completely under your spell.

“I didn’t know you had this side to you, Ace,” he teased, breathing heavily. Lips parted, hair mussed, breath coming in shallow draws, the set of his jaw above his thick neck. He looked like an Adonis.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you retorted with a grin.

“Hmm, I doubt it. After knowing you had a fat crush on me, I think I’ve got all your secrets,” he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, barely grazing your lips.

“Ooh, that’ll cost you,” you said in an accusatory tone.

“I’ll pay whatever you’re asking,” he murmured, completely wrapped around your finger.

——

“We’ll wash dishes tomorrow,” you commented on the state of the kitchen, pausing before asking, “You’re staying, right?”

“You’d have to chase me out with a broom,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, peppering your neck with kisses.

The two of you got ready for bed with an abundance of playful hip bumps and nudges as you fought for space in your small bathroom.

You pulled back the covers and crawled under them together like you had done it a hundred times before, every movement coming naturally.

You snuggled up into his bare chest, resting against one of his biceps, and it felt like new beginnings. When you woke tomorrow, everything would be different.

His heartbeat was calmer now, drumming against your fingertips as your breaths synced to his.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“I forgot to mention one thing.”

You angled your head to see the faint outline of his profile in the moonlight.

“I love you too.”

[hanadulsetaad]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

THE HWANG ART GALA

reader : part one part two, PART FOUR

TAGS: LOVE TRIANGLE, ANGST, BREAKUP, BETRAYAL

As Y/N dashed through the corridors of the college building, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't help but curse the chaotic night that had led to this mad rush. Wooyoung, I.N, and she had indulged in a bit too much alcohol and ended up bleaching their hair and wreaking havoc on Wooyoung's belongings. It took Felix's midnight rescue mission to restore some semblance of order, and by the time they settled down, the sun was already peering through the windows. After that they thought it will be fun to make tanghulu and make mukbang videos, and it was 8am by the time they were done.

So there she was, sprinting to class, desperately hoping to avoid any awkward encounters with Yeji and Hyunjin As she glanced back, she caught sight of another latecomer, a guy with curly hair and boba eyes, looking equally harried but undeniably attractive in his all-black ensemble.

Their eyes met, and without a word, he fell into step beside her. "Room 203?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless.

"Yeah," Y/N confirmed, relieved to have some company in her tardiness. "Let's stick together and minimize the scolding."

"By the way, I'm Bang Chan," he offered with a charming smile.

"Hey, I'm Seo Y/N," she replied, returning the smile as they found seats at the back of the room, accompanied by Bang Chan's friend Seungmin.

As they settled in, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of Hyunjin's curious gaze from the middle row. What was that weird look about? She pondered, silently hoping that their morning wouldn't get any more eventful than it already had been. but a notification poped on her phone.

Teacher: "I think everyone understood what I am saying."

Y/N looked up as Seungmin cleared his throat, "Since you were not listening, you, me, and Bang Chan are partners for the first internal."

Y/N replied, "Oh, sorry, I had an emergency. Can you please give me a gist?"

Seungmin rolled his eyes, "We have to work together throughout the semester, basically work on a fake company and pitch ideas and all. You will get a mail today."

Seungmin added, "By the way, my name is Kim Seungmin."

Y/N replied, "My name is Seo Y/N."

Seungmin asked, "Are you Changbin's sister?"

Y/N confirmed, "Oh, yes."

Bang Chan chimed in, "You're Bin's sister?"

Seungmin teased, "Well, she has the same surname and dumb look on her face."

Y/N smiled, realizing what Seungmin implied, "Hey, I don't look dumb like Bin. But how do you guys know him?"

Bang Chan explained, "Oh, I met him through night music school."

Y/N puzzled, "Music school?"

Before she could ask anything, Hyunjin cleared his throat, and all three of them looked at him. He was with Yeji, holding hands.

Hyunjin semi-hugged Y/N, "I saved you a seat, you know. Now we both won't be on the same project, very good."

Y/N thought, "How can he be so normal?"

Y/N replied, "Haha, it's fine."

Hyunjin gave Bang Chan and Seungmin a look and asked Y/N in a hushed tone, "Are you fine with doing your project with them? I mean, it has 70 percent of your grade."

Seungmin jumped in, "You know we can hear you, Prince?" (He called him prince in a mocking way)

Y/N retorted, "Hey, Hyunjin, don't be rude. Besides, yes, they are Changbin's friends."

Hyunjin brushed it off, "Whatever," after giving Seungmin one last dirty look and continued, "Can't wait for today's after-party. It's been like so long since we last talked. Also, I need to talk to you. Do you want to ride with me and Yeji?"

Y/N immediately replied, "Oh, no, I am gonna stay back and talk with them about the project."

Hyunjin said, "Okay, see you later," and Yeji smiled at Y/N.

Y/N banged her head on the desk after Hyunjin left. Seungmin quipped, "If I was you, I would have the same reaction."

Y/N gave him a confused look, and Seungmin added, "I use Twitter too."

Y/N hid her face, groaning, "Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I want to die."

Bang Chan looked confused, "How do you know what is happening to her?"

Seungmin smirked, "I keep up with gossip sites."

Seungmin suggested, "Since we are working together, let's exchange our numbers." Later, all three of them exchanged numbers and had a decent conversation. Y/N found Seungmin extremely funny, especially when he was teasing Bang Chan about being old.

As they were laughing, Bang Chan removed his mask to take a sip of coffee, and Y/N swear the whole world stopped. He had dimples and very cute boba eyes, his eyes were so pretty you could see the innocence in them. He had perfect hair paired with perfect curly hair.

Seungmin joked, "Hey, earth to Y/N!" snapping her back to reality. Bang Chan looked at her in a concerning way, "Are you okay? You zoned out."

Y/N stuttered, "Oh yeah, by the way, what is the time?"

Seungmin checked his watch, "4:30."

Y/N exclaimed, "Shit, I am getting late! Guys, it was so nice talking to you. See you later!" and ran.

Bang Chan and Seungmin looked at each other, and Bang Chan asked, "So what happened to her?"

[betterbooktitles]

What makes a Jesuit boys’ school so entertaining is the irreverence in the face of certain damnation. There were adult authority figures, some imbued with the ability to forgive Mortal Sin, telling us we were going to Hell if we didn’t take our morality seriously. In response, we laughed and cracked jokes. We laughed so hard, in part, because the stakes were so high. If you could mock the Most Important Question, you could likely laugh off anything.

Humor was what opened me up to the idea that I didn’t share the values of the men teaching me to be a “good” person. Humor also taught me that I didn’t have to accept any of it.

The first time I heard shade thrown at the Theology department was during my freshman year when my favorite teacher sitting in a room in the fourth floor English department, in an entirely separate building from the Theology and History classrooms asked “what movie are they showing you over there this week?” It was true that for half the year, Theology teachers showed movies 40 minutes at a time to make important philosophical points. They screened The Matrix, Life is Beautiful (watched in tandem with our reading of Man’s Search for Meaning), and, my personal favorite The Shawshank Redemption which they showed to us in the summer before 9th grade to let us know what Jesuit school would resemble: something close to surviving solitary confinement. If you had music in your mind, you might make it out. I don’t doubt the efficacy of showing these movies to us to teach moral lessons. It was a better strategy than trying to force teenagers to read. I had never heard anyone mock the department, though, especially not another teacher.

To be clear, this scrutiny, at least of the lay teachers in the Theology department was justified. They fed us one-sided anti-intellectual drivel that had almost nothing to do with Catholic Dogma. Instead of learning about a biblical text, we spent hours listening to a guy tell us evolution was “just a theory,” that being gay was a choice, and that abortion was wrong in any instance (whatever your personal beliefs, understand that it’s kind of hard to hear both sides of that argument at an all-male school where the adult men were the authority on ethics). Then they showed us clips from Fox News of Terri Schiavo and told us the “correct” Christian response to the news.

One day, again in my freshman year when I was scared to question anything because of an inordinate fear that I could be thrown out of school at any moment, our Theology teacher pressed play on The Emperor’s Club (a 2002 Kevin Kline movie about a boy’s prep school that served in our teacher’s mind as some ethic antithesis to the more beloved (and frankly more entertaining) Dead Poets Society). A student in the back row raised his hand, and our teacher paused the movie. We sat in the dark room and rolled our eyes. Make this quick, buddy. We’ve got a movie to watch here!

“Jeff?” our teacher said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes, I was wondering about the prayer we read before class today,” Jeff said. He was a senior, a bit portly which was only noticeable because many kids did not bother buying new dress shirts every year. Once the stress of school forced you to eat your feelings four years in a row, you wound up with a gut putting pressure on your old shirts’ buttons. “It says in the prayer…” Jeff continued, “that Jesus descended into Hell. What’s that about?” 

“Well,” our teacher said, looking excited to finally talk about religion instead of answering some weird kid’s question about the ethics of having sex with aliens should they ever land on Earth, “according to scripture, we know the gates of Heaven were closed for a time, so when Jesus died he descended into hell first to free other righteous souls…”

“Yeah, a quick follow-up on that,” Jeff said, sounding interested, “does anyone believe this shit?” 

The cackles that erupted in the room nearly overwhelmed our teacher’s angry tirade. Jeff was sent to the Vice Principal’s office to await his judgment. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment you were allowed not only to question those teaching us about religion but you were allowed to reject the faith altogether. 

From there, every argument began to collapse, mostly through funny moments:

A teacher tried to tell us IVF was wrong because “you have to jerk off into a cup. It’s not right.” One kid announced: “I’ve done weirder!” Guffaws. Cheers.

Another teacher claimed gay sex was always wrong because the sex itself was not ‘open to creating human life,’ to which a brave gay student volunteered “Oh, I’m open to it. I’ll keep trying and let you know if there’s a miracle.” Applause. 

When a teacher said video games could be considered a sin if they distract you from work, someone, half-asleep in the front row, let out a loud “Ah, shut up!” that made us all giggle.

My fellow students weren’t playing the game, arguing with the teacher on his terms, using logic. They were dismissing the arguments flippantly, and no adult could reply unless they were funny themselves. 

Read the rest here.

[gay4harm]

Pick a side l Part 2

Pairing: Shuriri x reader

Warning: none besides a few kissing scenes

Taglist: @s0lam3y - Interact with this post to be added

3 days had passed since Shuri had came to your place, 3 days since you had rejected her.

And three days of you and Riri talking. You knew it was wrong but you couldn't help yourself. Riri was kind and gentle, she listened to you as if she genuinely wanted to hear what you had to say.

Today you woke with a smile on your face. The reason why was because you only had two early classes today, no rehearsals and you were off from work today.

On this rare occurrence you could just chill out, watch a movie and maybe even make a cup of tea.

You step out of your apartment building ready to walk to your favorite record store when you spot Riri walking back from what you assumed was one of her classes.

"Hey Riri" She stops after noticing you and gives you a warm smile. "Hey Y/N, how you doing?"

"Better now that I'm seeing you." She licks her lips making sure to bit her bottom lip in the process. "You saying you like seeing me?" She says with low eyes. "That is exactly what I'm saying"

You didn't know where this sudden confidence was coming from but you liked it. "Where you headed?" Riri had noticed you didn't have your usual bag that was filled with books and instead you sported a star bag that complemented your outfit just right.

"Well I was just gonna walk around town a little bit, probably stop at this really cool record store."

"That's wassup"

"Do you... wanna walk with me?" You were hesitant to ask since you didn't think she would say yes but when she replied with "Yeah sure" your eyes widened with joy and a soft smile broke out onto your face.

You and Riri walked until you arrived and as you entered the store the first thing you did was ask your favorite Massachusetts native and the store owner, Otis if any new records came in.

"Yes Ms. L/N, a few just came in." He pulls out a crate that was filled with new records, you move them around until you see one of your favorite songs.

You turn to see Riri walking around, you walk up to her. "Did you find anything?" She ask once she sees you. "Yeah, this one's my favorite I've been looking for it forever." You show her the vinyl you had picked up. "I've never heard that one"

You look up at her in disbelief. "You've never heard this song?" She shakes her head in response. You pull her to one of the record players that sat on a row with about four others. You plop the record on the turntable and pick up the headphones that were provided. You turn the song up as you place one of the headphones next to your ear watching Riri do the same to the other side. The song begins to emit from out the earbud and you watch Riri, waiting for a reaction.

Love

Love will keep us together

Think of me, babe whenever

Some sweet talking girl comes along

Singing his song

Don't mess around

You just got to be strong

Just stop

Cause I really love you

Stop, I'll be thinking of you

Look in my heart

And let love keep us together

As the chorus plays you look over to Riri and can't help but notice how good she looks. Her brows furrowing as she listens to the lyrics, her lips that just looked so good with the same cherry lip balm she had on the night you two had kissed, you had made sure to remember the flavor.

You couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together as you could feel your heat growing, you couldn't help but to shift closer to her so you could get a better smell of her vanilla and lavender perfume that swarmed through your nose in the best way possible and you definitely couldn't help but to place a peck on her lips once she looked up at you with her round brown eyes that made you melt every time.

Once you pecked her lips once you had to do it again of course and it wouldn't make sense if you didn't do it a third time. You know what it actually would be better if you just grabbed her face and fully embraced her lips with a big sloppy kiss that almost threw Riri off balance.

Her hands took place on top of yours that sat on both sides of her face once you had dropped the headphones.

You pull away once you realize where you guys were, you were glad on one was there except you, Riri and Otis who wasn't paying any attention to you guys.

"I'm sorry I just-"

"Nah you good, I don't mind it"

"Ok" You put your head down, a bit embarrassed at what you had just done. Basically jumping on Riri like some kind of animal, but could you really blame yourself, that was just the kind of effect Riri had on you.

You pick up the record, put it back in its case as you look up at Riri. "I'm definitely getting this one." She grins at you as you walk up to the counter and as soon as Otis was done ringing you up you and Riri walk out ready to see what other stores you guys could look around at.

You and Riri walk back to the apartment complex and she makes sure to walk you into your apartment once she realized your roommates weren't there.

"Sooo"

You turn to see Riri standing near the door awkwardly. "You ok?"

"Yeah I'm good"

"Did you want to head to my room or do you have to go?" Riri's head perked up because of this and a soft "Yeah" fell from her lips.

She follows you down a hall until you guys arrive to your room.

"Soo this is my room"

Riri walks around admiring the several gymnastic and cheerleading trophies along with a few metals, she saw the small wall of polaroids that showed you smiling happily with your friends and a few showcased you still in costume after a show. Your room gave off a spaced theme but not in a childish way. You had star garlands and light hanging down the ceiling and on the walls. A tapestry hung above your bed that had the constellations on them that gave the allusion that it was the real thing.

Posters were littered along the walls as well as a few mirrors that mimicked the moons cycles.

Instead of a regular light you had purple led lights that flashed across your room. "If it's too dark I can turn these off and put the regular lights on"

"Oh nah your good, I like it, you know a bit of mood lighting"

"Ok" You smile softly at Riri watching as she walked closer to you till the point where she was right in front of you. She places her hands on your hips pulling you closer until your noses almost touched.

Your breathing picked up as she moves to kiss your glossed lips. Riri backs you up until the back of your knees hit the bed, you both move until you're laying on your back with her above you.

The only way to describe the way Riri was kissing you was hot, sloppy and hungry, her tongue fought with yours until she began to make her way to the inside of your sweater with her cold hands making you yelp giving her the opportunity to explore your mouth with her tongue and once she started you didn't want her to stop.

The two of your maneuver until you had reach the point where you had your knee propped up so Riri could grind on it and she moved so you could do the same. You skirt bunched up as you two grinded on each slowly, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the minute and with the way Riri groaned on top of you, you could tell she was feeling the same. You thought it would go farther than just humping each other until Riri pulled away. "Sorry my phone keeps going off."

"Oh no it's ok, go ahead"

Riri looks through her phone until she tells you who had just interrupted your little makeout session. "Um it's Shuri, she says she need my help with something." Just with those words your heart was shattered even though they shouldn't have.

Riri wasn't your girlfriend and if anything Shuri had the right to text or call Riri whenever she wanted. So why were you so mad?

Why were you jealous at the fact that Riri was so quick to drop everything as soon as Shuri called?

Was it because you wanted her to yourself?

Or maybe it was because Riri was just tonguing you down not even five minutes ago?

"Look I gotta go but I'ma text you, ok?"

"Yeah go take care of your business."

Riri got up ready to walk out but not before planting a small peck on your lips that left you wanting more as when she pulled away you went to chase after her lips.

She walks out and head back to her apartment leaving you alone in your room. You went to sleep horny and disappointed.

Meanwhile Riri went to sleep after cumming for the second time to the thought of you.

Truth be told Riri didn't leave because Shuri needed her she left because if she didn't she would have surely fucked you and if she did that then all of this would be over. Riri almost didn't want to admit it but when you kissed her at the record store it had felt different than how it did with all the other girls she had kissed; except for one person, Shuri.

A/N: I am actually so proud that I finished this because it seem like anytime I start a series I never finish when I should be but here we are I hope you guys like this.

Feedback is always appreciated, I love hearing from you guys.

[halfghostwriter]

Wraith Radio Pt. 2

Part 1

“You’re listening to Wraith Radio, your number one link to the living realm. I’m your host, the wandering ghost, Ellie Phantom. It’s day two of my adventure in Gotham City, and I gotta say, today was… wild. Bit of context for those who missed the start of yesterday’s show, long story short, I publicly told the Red Hood that I would wait for him at this place called Park Row so I could take him to a doctor in the ghost zone because his body is bad.

After I ended the show, I got this call from my cousin, Danny. He and his friends back in Amity had been listening, and they think that, because I never showed off any of my powers or anything, and cause I look like any other human, he might not have actually believed I was a ghost. Which, fair, I guess.

So now I’m thinking, ‘well, no big deal, I can just show him my ghost form.’ Buuuuut then I remember the stupid amount of curses and stuff all around this city, and as part of the ghost population who technically never experienced death— no, that time I melted does not count— I’d like to prolong that experience for as long as possible if you don’t mind. Where was I? Oh right, so now I’m thinking, ‘well, no problem, I can just open up a portal, bring him to the zone, and transform there.’ Quick, simple, no problem.

So we come to today. I’m at the meeting spot, it’s five minutes to the meeting time, and I’m sitting on the edge of this rooftop, keeping an eye out for the arrival of the Red Hood.

And then a building blows up.

Right across the street, the top floor of this sketchy run down place I had been staring at, just. Boom! And then I hear all these gunshots, and screaming, and I look down at my watch, and I have about four minutes before noon, so I turn invisible, float over, and poke my head through the wall. Right there, center of the room, I see Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood fighting this… I dunno, skinny twink with like a burlap sack over his head? Look, it took me a week to memorize the Gotham vigilante’s names and costumes alone, I wasn’t going out of my way to look up their entire rogues gallery. But anyway, they’re fighting this guy and a bunch of people who I assume are working for this guy, and I see some people tied up in the corner screaming their heads off for no clear reason. I mean, yes, I know it’s scary being tied up by an evil scarecrow of a man, but when I say screaming, I don’t mean ‘please, save me, I’m in distress’ screaming, I mean ‘the soulshredder just sliced through me and now I’m seeing my worst fears manifested in front of my eyes’ screaming.

So I get a little closer, I land on the floor, and just, to go off on a bit of a tangent for a second, the Gotham vigilantes are just. So much taller than me. I felt so incredibly tiny being in the same room as them. Like, yeah, I know I’m short, but I had hoped that I would at least be the same height as Robin, but no. I swear, every time I stand next to someone who’s supposed to be close to my ‘physical’ age, I become more and more convinced that the billionaire who made me had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He brought me to life and was like ‘you’re a twelve year old!’ and I was like ‘you’re right!’ because I had no frame of reference because I was born that morning. Anyway, so I get closer to the screeching humans being held against their will, and I feel this scratchy, almost burning feeling in the back of my throat. I try to brush it off, but then I look down, and I see my body fucking melting.

Now this isn’t be my first time melting, so my first thought isn’t ‘oh god I’m gonna go from half to full ghost,’ or even ‘ugh this shit again,’ but rather ‘why the fuck doesn’t this hurt?’ Because I know exactly what melting is supposed to feel like, and it isn’t a feeling you can just ignore. Like, I can’t really describe it to someone who’s never had every muscle in their body suddenly coalesce into one, with every attached nerve ending screaming louder than a heavy metal band, but trust me when I say that the “pain” I was feeling was barely anything compared to actually melting, like it felt more like my skin was itchy than anything. So, I try poking one of the places where my body is melting— don’t ask me why, I don’t really know why I did it— and instead of feeling ectoplasm drip over my hands, I just feel… my arm. And I realize, ‘oh, not only is this just an illusion, it’s a shitty one.’ Or, y’know, at the very least one that doesn’t work too well on a halfa.

So I shake that off, cause yeah, I don’t like seeing myself melt again, but as long as it’s not actually happening again, I’m good. Plus, if it does start again, I do still have my extra ecto dejectos in my bag, and yes, Danny, I will call you if it actually happens, sorry if I almost gave you a heart attack a few minutes ago. Anyway, I turn back to all the tied up screaming people, and I notice these, like, fog-machine-looking-thing next to all of them, and I get closer to one, and the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat gets worse, so now I’m thinking ‘oh, this must be what’s causing everyone to see things.’ So I turn my arm intangible, stick it into this machine, and I pull out this bottle of just… the worst smelling chemicals I’ve ever been near, which is saying a lot for someone born and raised in a basement lab. But, it stops the fog machine, so I plug it with some stuff from my bag, and pocket it so I can’t smell it anymore. I keep doing this to each of the nearby machines, and eventually the front pocket of my bag is just completely stuffed with gross chemicals.

So that’s over with, and I look over to see if the fight’s done, but no, they’re all still going at it, which means I still can’t talk to Red Hood and get him to the Zone, so I figure I have some time to kill. And I remember that there’s, like, ten or so people tied up against their will, so I start freeing all of them. Obviously, the ropes themselves are really easy, all I really need to do is phase them off. The people, on the other hand, are crazy hard to get to actually do anything other than scream. Like, I try pushing people towards the exit, I try dragging them across the floor, anything to get them to leave the building which is— in case you forgot— on fire. I mean it’s just the top floor, but I’ve heard from Ember that a fire anywhere in the house could be the cause of a human’s death, especially if no one’s watching it, and I doubt that anyone is actually watching that fire.

So now I’m kinda panicking, cause I was hoping the fight would be over by now and all these people would have been brought outside, but not only is the fight not over, I look over and see the bad guy throw these cans over at the people, and I realize that they’re giving off the exact same poison-fog as the machines from earlier. And I’m just. So pissed off. Like, I just took care of that!! For all I knew, that illusion stuff could’ve worn off in a few minutes, and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all these people alive!!

Side note— Danny. I get it now. I get the whole ‘desperate need to protect any and all humans’ feeling you were talking about.

They are just… so easy to put into danger.

Holy shit.

Anyway, I’m feeling that whole ‘selfless anger on behalf of strangers’ thing for the first time, and I think it turns my brain off, cause I just pick up the cans and throw them at the bad guys head while yelling ‘FUCK YOU, DIPSHIT!’

And my invisibility drops.

So.

Not my best decision.

But not my worst, because my aim was perfect.

I’m pretty sure I knocked him unconscious, but I’ll be honest I wasn’t really paying attention to that guy anymore because I had just revealed one of my abilities— not to mention I think my eyes were glowing— in front of the fucking Batman. Now, I don’t know if the rumors about him hating metas are true, but I do know that most humans fucking hate ghosts, that I definitely don’t know what he thinks I am, and that I’m not risking my ass to find out. So, invisibility goes back up, and I start to book it before I remember that the whole fucking reason I showed up was to help out Red Hood. So I take a flyer, write “sorry, try again tomorrow?” on the back, and then I get the fuck out.

I wind up flying so fast back to this little hideout I’m staying at that I guess I wound up jostling some things in my bag? Yeah, by the time I get back, I feel this… leaking through my bag. And I take it off, so I can check out the damage, and uh…

Ok, so remember how I mentioned those ecto dejectos I keep on me? Well, I tend to keep them in the front pocket. And the scary-illusion-liquid-stuff was also put in the front pocket. And one of the bottles and an ecto-dejecto hit each other just a bit too hard. And apparently. When these two things are combined. You get… a blob ghost. Who only knows how to melt.

I’ve named him Goop, and he’s the most pathetic creature I’ve seen in my life. He just melts until all of his body is liquid, then it all just blorps back together. He’s solid for like a second, then he starts to melt again. Also he keeps trying to drink the scary-illusion-liquid. I’ve been holding him in my lap this entire time, and while he’s not hard to stop, I do still need to sleep, so if anyone has any advice on how to handle a mutant blob ghost, I’m all ears. Also, if theres any specific way to get rid of mysterious chemicals that honestly shouldn’t exist, please tell me, otherwise I’m just gonna find a sink and dump it.

Anyway, that’s enough about my day, onto things I’ve heard about the city…”

————————

The batfam stared silently at the glowing radio that Jason had brought.

And an unspoken agreement was reached.

Meta, ghost, whatever— this was a child with absolutely no adult supervision, severe trauma, an unknown set of powers, and a ridiculous amount of fear toxin. Not to mention something that she described to be a “mutant blob ghost.”

It was time to do a bit of research into the kid.

Or, it would, were it not for the fact that “Wraith Radio” didn’t seem to exist online, nor did “Ellie Phantom.” It was also likely she used a fake name for her show, since there didn’t seem to be any records of an “Ellie Phantom” anywhere.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to deter them. After all, she herself had mentioned her family.

And so, they began looking into Amity and her cousin, Danny.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 29 - Out of Service

Oliver Wasn't the Only Engine in that Siding:

Oliver the Great Western Engine is thankful for the second chance that Sodor has given him. Every day, he wakes up and says ‘good morning’ and ‘thank you’ to Douglas before starting his day’s duties. Douglas never really understood the custom.

“Ye dinnae need tae thank me ilka day,” Douglas said one morning. “I do though,” Oliver replied quietly. “It’s important to me… to everyone. You saved us when we had no one to turn to, and it’s because of you that I’m here today. That alone is worthy of my eternal gratitude.”

Douglas left it at that, and puffed away to start his day.

Once Douglas had rounded the bend out of sight, Oliver released a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding in. The Caledonian couldn’t possibly know.

There are two days that Oliver will never forget: the first is the day that Douglas rescued him from the Other Railway, but the second…

The second is the day he arrived in that scrapyard; two months prior. He’d been out of coal, unable to find even a single lump of the black fuel source. He’d been captured by a smirking diesel, who’d dragged him up to the Barrow Scrapyard and left him in a cold, damp siding with his coach Isabel and his brakevan Toad. The trio thought they were alone, until an old, scratchy voice broke the silence.

“Welcome to the ‘out of use’ siding,” wheezed the voice. Oliver looked back. Behind him was a row of old, rusty engines. They were not Great Westerns like him – they were ex-LMS stock. The one who had spoken was a grimy Fowler 4F, who was missing both his tender and his dome. He stood right behind Oliver, but ahead of six other engines. Two were Jinty tank engines, one was a Black 5, one was a Stanier 8F, one was an Ivatt 2MT tank engine – and the last was Pettigrew D5, from the Furness Railway.

The other engines didn’t say anything. They just sat there – silent hulks leaving growing shadows on the ground.

“Hello, little runaway,” smirked an oily diesel. Oliver looked up to see a large, grease-smeared Class 28 rumble up alongside him. “We caught you at last.” Oliver glared defiantly. The Great Western engine refused to give the diesel the pleasure of a reply.

“Heh, not a talker?” sneered the diesel. “No matter. We’ve got a little treat in store for you. You’re last on our siding, so I hope you enjoy what comes next.”

And with that, men left the works coach the Class 28 was pulling, and made their way over to the first of the Jintys.

Oliver couldn’t bear to look – but he was forced to listen. Listen to the hiss of the blowtorch, to the screech of 1000 degrees slicing through metal, to the screams of the engine as it was slowly; agonisingly carved up and turned into a pile of parts.

The Class 28 shunted the parts into the smelter’s shed.

Oliver wanted to cry, but the look on the diesel’s kept his eyes dry. The glee – the sheer, unadulterated glee – in that engine’s eyes was sickening. Oliver wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing his sick, twisted game was getting to the Western engine.

The scrapper’s had waited a week before returning, with that same smarmy diesel. This time, Oliver got to read the engine’s number off its cab.

D5701.

Oliver noticed that the other Class 28s avoided this one. They looked at this diesel as if he was a monster. Oliver agreed with them. This diesel seemed to take enjoyment from the screams of his victims, listening in for the moment the screams dissolved into whimpers.

The torch worked its way through the engines in the siding. The Staniers and the other Jinty were gone by the end of the month, leaving Oliver with the D5, the Ivatt 2MT and the Fowler 4F. All four rarely spoke – especially not with the other diesels growling and sneering at them. All except the other Class 28s. The rest of that class seemed horrified at their siblings’ actions – and they were the only ones that came near them without bringing death.

D5703 rumbled up beside Oliver one evening, looking around fugitively. “Tonight, the Midnight Goods comes across from Sodor,” she hissed quietly. “We’re going to try and redirect their engine this way – but you need to grab their attention.” Oliver couldn’t find the steam to reply.

“We’ll try,” croaked the Fowler from behind Oliver. “Thank you.”

The night wore on, and the four engines, Isabel, and Toad all waited for signs of a Sodor engine puffing past. Instead, D5701 growled past, dragging D5703 behind as she hissed and hurled insults at her unfeeling sibling.

“Try and help those relics, huh?” he snarled. “Try and derail to bring those disgusting Nor-Westers this way? It’s such a shame that the company wants you gone, little sister.” Oliver watched with wide eyes as D5701 dragged their own sister into the smelting shed. There was the distinct hiss of smelting torches being fired up – and then a single, ear-piercing scream. D5701 growled out of the smelting shed, lip curled up in a snarl.

“And let that be a lesson!” he roared. “There is no escape!” The four steam engines said nothing, didn’t give the furious diesel the satisfaction of a victory.

The next day, the men came for the Ivatt, slicing the young engine up extra slowly.

That was when a second young Class 28 began to visit the trio. D5714 was an unassuming young girl - she wasn’t the youngest of her class, nor the oldest. She just was. She pulled her trains when her Crossley motor allowed her to, and she got her driver to play the radio for her when she couldn’t.

“What is the West like?” she asked Oliver one evening. “Well, it’s wonderful,” grinned Oliver. “Beautiful scenery – and all our coaches were painted chocolate and cream. But… the managers didn’t care about steam. Said we were too inefficient. They were… they were proud to claim their region was the first to… to… to abolish steam.” D5714 gasped. “That’s horrible! The same is happening to my class… they say we’re too expensive to keep running. We aren’t ‘revolutionary’ like the other diesels. Big brother 5702 said our best chance of survival was to learn from the steam engines, and use their wisdom to do better at work. Big brother 5701 wants us all to get into the… the scrapping business. He thinks if we do, we’ll survive on the scrap-merchant’s money. Big sister 5700 was scrapped though… and so was big sister 5703! I saw 5701 drag her off.” Oliver paused, realisation hitting him like a runaway freight train.

The Class 28s weren’t even ten yet. They’d been built in the late 50s! The young girl in front of her couldn’t have been older than eight years old. And here they were, being forced to debate the best way to survive. It was sickening – and it was all British Rail’s fault.

The D5 was the next to go. The poor old engine had been sat in that siding for ten years and had accepted his fate long ago. When the cutters came for him, he simply smiled at them. His voice had been lost during the last downpour, and the rust was creeping up his smokebox. He didn’t scream like the other engines – and Oliver could tell how much that infuriated D5701.

“Why was he so quiet? Are the torches not hot enough?” he demanded. The scrappers all shot the diesel dirty looks. “That engine was meant to have been cut up years ago,” one of them snapped. “You’ve kept him on this siding for nearly a decade, and that’s all you have to say?” Oliver felt sick to his boiler. That old engine had been sat out in the wind and snow and driving rain and baking sun for an entire decade. Longer than most of his replacements had even been alive.

And he could tell that D5714 thought her brother’s words were horrible too. “Don’t mind him,” muttered the Fowler softly. Oliver jumped. The 4F had been silent ever since D5703 had been scrapped. “I… beg your pardon?” “Don’t mind that bully,” the 4F said. “His type has always existed, and they always will. But you can’t let them win.” “How do you know?” asked Oliver. The 4F didn’t reply. Oliver had a sinking feeling that he didn’t want to know.

“The Midnight Goods is due in two weeks,” hummed D5714 the next evening. “I wonder if it’ll be that Scot again?” “Scot?” asked Oliver. “Yes – the last one was pulled by some engine with a Scottish accent. He spent a good few minutes hissing insults at 5701.” Oliver noticed that the young engine was no longer referring to her classmate as ‘big brother’.

That evening, D5701 came for the Fowler 4F. Unlike the others, he was dragged out of the siding.

“Well, old timer?” sneered D5701. “It’s your turn. How does it feel to be scrapped by the very people you once worked for?” “Like a cruel irony,” came the blunt reply. “And one I feel you too will come to know.” D5701 laughed – but his laugh was like shards of glass falling, the laugh of a maniac.

“Me?! Ever be shunted off into a siding like you? You outlived your usefulness as a scrapper’s engine, Fowl one, though that’s to be expected from such a relic.” “And what of you? Even as we speak, they are cutting up your class in the sidings of Carlisle. Five gone, and a sixth being withdrawn tomorrow. I do not envy you, if that is what you want me to say. I do not wish to be you, and I will not argue, or beg, or plead, or scream. There is no satisfaction in that. Not anymore.”

D5701’s engine roared at this, backfiring with a massive Bang! A fireball shot up, and he surged forwards, bumping the Fowler hard enough that the old engine went sailing into the smelting shed, joints creaking and groaning before suddenly giving way. The Fowler 4F’s axles shattered beneath him, and he toppled cab over wheels to one side, parts snapping off and smashing down all around the husk of an engine. D5701 smirked.

“You’ll be next, Western,” he said. With that, he rumbled off to deal with scrapping the remains of the Fowler 4F. D5714 sidled up next to Oliver.

“I have a plan,” she said quietly. “But I need you to have at least a little steam. Can your crew build a fire?” Oliver blinked. His crew was somewhere in Barrow – probably trying to find a way to speak to the Fat Controller across the bridge – but he hadn’t heard from them in well over a month. “If you can get them to me, we can probably get something started with all the overgrown weeds…” Oliver replied. D5714 smiled. “Good. When the steam engine arrives, I need you to get their attention, no matter what. Oh! Or if it’s D5702. He’s also a Sodor engine. If you can do that, I can distract everyone else.”

Oliver felt a smile slowly grow on his face. “Thank you,” he whispered. D5714 smiled. “It’s the right thing to do,” she replied. And then she was speeding away before her psychopathic brother could reappear.

Oliver’s crew were back the next day, tugging weeds out of the ground and laying them out in Oliver’s firebox to dry out. They took a floorboard or two from Toad as well. Even so, it was dangerous work. D5701 kept rumbling over to gloat, counting down the days with a manic grin that split his face in two, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. On any other engine, that smile would have been natural, reassuring – D5714 smiled like that sometimes, when Oliver told her about all his adventures back on his branchline – but on D5701, it just seemed sinister.

But he was nowhere to be found the day before the Midnight Goods was due to arrive, in spite of it being the day before he planned to scrap Oliver. D5714 was smirking when she pulled in.

“We’re in luck,” she said. “5701 is stuck at Carnforth due to some faulty points. It gives us an even better chance.” And with that, her driver pulled a sack out of the diesel’s cab and tossed it to Oliver’s driver. The driver opened the bag and gasped.

“Coal!” “It was the last in the bunkers on the branch,” D5714 said. “So use it wisely.” Oliver beamed. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said earnestly. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?” D5714 thought for a moment, then smiled shyly. “I would like… a name.”

Oliver stopped dead, stunned. “You don’t have a name?” “Not many diesels do,” D5714 replied quietly. “British Rail says it encourages deviant behaviour – but I heard that all steam engines have names!” “We do,” said Oliver proudly. “I’m Oliver… and you… what do you think of Eleanor?” “Like that American woman?” asked D5714. “The one who helped found the United Nations?” “Yes,” Oliver replied. “Eleanor Roosevelt. I met her when she came to Britian during the war. One of the most amazing people I’d ever spoken to. She wanted to help everyone… a lot like you.” “I… I like it.” “Then pleased to finally meet you, Eleanor.” Eleanor blushed, and was about to leave when the pair heard a disturbingly familiar horn echo through the yards.

“Quick! He’s coming back!” hissed Oliver. Eleanor sped away, and vanished just before D5701 finally returned. Oliver’s crew hid in Isabel, daring not to make a sound. “One night left, steam kettle,” sneered D5701. “I’m going to enjoy tomorrow.”

With that, he rumbled away.

Night fell. Oliver’s crew began building a small fire in Oliver’s firebox, having first checked his tanks had water. They were in luck. All was still in the yards.

Then, suddenly, the fire alarm rang out, just as a sharp, deep, Caledonian Railway whistle boomed in the distance. Oliver could see in the distance that the main sheds were on fire – and D5714’s plan was suddenly in motion.

Oliver could only hope that his crew had built enough of a fire to make steam.

Back to Master Post

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Run, Human, RUN part 12

Warnings: violence, starvation/emaciated, blood and severe injury, captivity, near-extinct human race

She wondered why he was so eager to learn about her, why he so desperately wanted knowledge. But then again, Tyleet's interest in human ways could be totally innocent, after all he was a naturally curious creature.

Alexa rarely got to see her fellow humans over the next four days. Part of it was probably due to the language barrier between her and Tyleet. Every time she'd ask to see them, he'd give her a quizzical look and change the subject. But she didn't think too much of it, and occasionally the message got through and Tyleet would allow her to visit Violet and the others.

It was kind of funny, how child-like Tyleet was around her. Eager for knowledge, easily excited. It was so vastly different from his attitude when he addressed other bat-people like himself. He was always tall and strong and full of authority with them, giving orders and being a leader. It was odd how quickly he could change based on the circumstances.

The days began to feel more natural as time went on, a routine falling in place. At noon every day Tyleet would come and Alexa would spend a few hours with him giving lessons on how to speak right. And he was a shockingly fast learner, especially considering that English was one of the hardest languages to learn. But it was fun for Alexa, and she enjoyed the distraction from constantly worrying about the other humans.

She had found it amusing at first how intrigued and obsessively curious Tyleet was about human nature and mannerisms, but eventually she started noticing a pattern with his questions that made her vaguely uneasy.

It was strange, he seemed to be wanting to know specific human terms in particular for certain actions, like 'kneel', 'down', 'listen', and more, insisting on learning more related terms in that area alone for several days in a row. But when Tyleet started finally speaking better sentences, Alexa realized she might have made a mistake in agreeing to teach him.

"Surrender, get down?" Tyleet growled during their latest session. An order. He was trying to learn human orders. It hadn't occurred to Alexa until now to wonder what he planned to do with this information, especially since he wanted to learn direct commands more than any other dialogue.

"Y-Yes," Alexa stammered with sudden wariness.

Tyleet's mouth twitched into a brief frown at her hesitancy. "At ease?"

Alexa nodded quickly, squashing her sudden fear and forcing her expression to remain carefully neutral. Tyleet fortunately seemed to buy it, and didn't pry.

They finished up with the training session, and Alexa went to her room to go to bed early, thinking over Tyleet's words. She couldn't figure it out. Why would Tyleet want to speak fluent human commands? Maybe to better keep Violet and the other in line? Yeah, that made more sense...

The night was long and restless, and Alexa woke up tired, but still to the smell of fresh, mouth-watering breakfast. Tyleet always took great care to make sure she was well taken care of. She rolled out of bed and padded out to meet him, and as expected, he was already waiting with a massive plate of food.

Tyleet smiled warmly at Alexa when she arrived, before turning to leave like he always did to let her eat undisturbed. But Alexa cleared her throat awkwardly before he could take off, making him pause.

"Tyleet, is it all right if I see my friends again today?" She asked, pointing to her eyes, then at the door to indicate leaving.

Tyleet hesitated, wings twitching thoughtfully, before he nodded. "Yes. Alexa see friends later." He spread his leathery wings with a snap and gracefully tipped off the takeoff platform, effortlessly gliding away.

Alexa sighed shakily. That went better than she expected. She hungrily wolfed down her breakfast, eager to get going. Once she was satisfied, she took up pacing mindlessly while she waited for Tyleet to return.

And Tyleet arrived in a gust of wind, taking Alexa to the ground like promised and leading her to the giant buildings the humans were being kept in.

When she arrived, the humans looked far different than she remembered. They all looked healthier, well-fed, and many of them no longer wore shackles on their ankles. Some were even chatting idly with the bat-creatures holding them prisoner, thought the bat-people looked utterly baffled at all the chittering.

"I need to go. Don't lost," Tyleet said as he nudged Alexa with a wing.

"Don't get lost," Alexa corrected with a chuckle.

"Don't get lost," Tyleet parroted with a grateful smile. He beat his wings and flew away, leaving Alexa to mingle with her friends. Alexa quickly located Violet and approached her, and Violet narrowed her eyes distrustful when she approached the table she and a few others were seated at.

"If it isn't alpha's favorite pet," Violet spat dryly. "Come to rub your betrayal in our faces?"

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@lavenderhousesposts

[mosylufanfic]

RCWhumptober Day 29

I decided to use an alternate prompt for today, "aftermath of failure." This isn't as whumpy as some of my others, but they're both suffering.

Visiting Hours

For the fourth time in as many hours, Jyn was fighting with a reception droid. "I need to see him. I need to."

"The patient is a level four," the droid said stolidly. "Level four is not permitted non family visitors."

By this time, Jyn was very familiar with the leveling system of the Alliance medical ward. Level one meant you were in for a squirt of bacta gel, maybe an antiviral shot, and back to your quarters. 

As far as she could tell, level five meant death's door. 

A doctor came through one of the doors. They were Mirialan, their facial tattoos faded, the way they got without upkeep. The doctor themself looked as faded as their tattoos, deep purple shadows under their eyes. "What's this racket?" they said. 

"This civilian is insisting on seeing a level four patient. I have stated repeatedly that it is not possible."

"It's possible, you're just being a prick," Jyn fired back. 

"You're Jyn Erso," the doctor said.

She set her jaw. She couldn't read the tone of their voice. Was it contempt? Anger? "I need to see him," she repeated.

"Level fours are permitted fifteen minutes with a family member," the doctor said to the droid. 

"This is not a family member," it said. "The patient has no family listed."

The doctor looked at her searchingly. "Given that, I think we can fudge it." 

The droid made a very annoyed sound, but twisted its body back to face the door, pissily ignoring Jyn.

She tried not to think of another pissy droid. You are continually unexpected. 

The doctor jerked their head at Jyn. "In through here. Decon chamber first."

“When does my fifteen minutes start?” she asked, following them.

"I'll let you know." They hit the button to seal off the decon chamber and Jyn screwed up her face. It was a sonic process, stronger than the sonic showers that she'd used all her life but no different in theory. Still, the enclosed chamber made her teeth itch.

They let her out on the other end and escorted her down a sterile white ward, beds cloaked in plastic on either side. Some of them were from Scarif, she knew.

Not enough of them.

She swallowed hard.

The doctor stopped her in front of the last bed in the row. "Listen," they said quietly. "The only reason, and I mean the only one, that I made this exception is because he's been asking for you."

"He's conscious, then."

"Yes. He won't look so bad. But don't let that fool you. His injuries are primarily internal, and they are severe."

"I know. I was there."

"He has a long way to go before we can downgrade him even to level three. So I wouldn't tell him anything too . . . upsetting."

She gave them a flat look. "What am I supposed to talk about, doctor? The weather?"

They pressed their lips together and unsealed the plastic. "Fifteen minutes starting now," they said. "There's a button on his bedside table. If you need anything, hit it. Someone will respond."

Do you think anyone's out there?

I do. Someone's listening.

At the rustle of plastic, Cassian's eyes turned toward her. He couldn't move any more than that. He was braced six ways to Centaxday, immobile so his shattered bones and his lacerated insides could knit up. Deep shadows like bruises ringed his eyes, and his skin was pallid under the bruises and the stubble. "Jyn," he said hoarsely.

She mustered up a smile, or an approximation of one. "Hi," she said. "Don't you look like shit."

He smiled back. "The plans," he said haltingly. "Nobody - will tell me - "

"Let's not talk about that right now," she said. 

His eyes fastened on her face, and after a moment, he made a noise of assent. "Who - did we - lose?" he asked then.

"Um. A lot," she said. "Seven made it back."

That was it. Seven out of thirty. Twenty-three dead on the blood-soaked sand, their bodies turned to ash by the Death Star's vicious eye.

"I don't know most of their names," she said. "I didn't really have the time." And she hadn't thought she would make it back, so it hadn't seemed important. On this side of things, it felt massively important to know who'd given their life for her last-ditch rogue mission.

"S'okay," he muttered. "I'll hear."

"That one guy, you know the one? From Wobani? I hit him with a shovel."

"Melshi," he said.

"Yeah, that's it. He's somewhere around here." She gave a general sort of wave, indicating the medical wing. "Level two, I think. He got us off the beach. Stole a shuttle, got us back here."

Cassian's eyes widened. "Bodhi?"

She felt her mouth tremble. "Got hit with a grenade or something. It took out our shuttle, that's why Melshi had to steal one. Someone pulled him out. He got back alive, but he's - it's bad. Level five bad. He's been in bacta since we landed. It's all - it's all very touch and go."

He absorbed that. "Baze," he said. "Chirrut?"

"On the surface," she said, and didn't have to say anything more.

It felt wrong that they'd left them there. Jyn didn't know what kind of burial rituals Guardians had, or Jedhans for that matter. She felt sure it hadn't included being vaporized by the blast of a planet killer. 

"They wouldn't - have wanted - to be without - each other," Cassian said. 

She nodded. "And. Well. You know what happened to Kay."

"Backup," he murmured. "Kay always - backup."

It wouldn't do much good without a chassis, and knowing that pissy droid he'd broken his backup into pieces and hidden it through seventeen databases just to make trouble for them. But it made her smile a little. "Well, that's something."

They sat in silence for a time. Jyn could almost hear her fifteen minutes ticking away.

"You," he said. "How - are you?"

She gestured at herself. "In one piece. Got banged up, but nothing some bacta gel couldn't handle." She rubbed at the edge of the bed. "They're not sure what to do with me. Not like I can get court martialed or something. Surprised they didn't shove me in the prison cells again, honestly."

Especially after -

Well. 

"Glad you - stayed," he said. 

Mon Mothma had offered her the shuttle - "that was the agreement," she'd said in her calm voice - and Jyn had rejected it with a firmness that hadn't seemed to surprise the other woman at all. 

"Where would I go?" she said rhetorically.

His hand lay on the covers near his hip. He turned it palm up in a motion that looked like it hurt his whole body.

She put hers over it - "don't" - and saw the little smile. She rolled her eyes and left her hand where it was. 

"Jyn," he said. "The plans."

"I don't - it's not - " 

"Please," he said. "Please."

She looked over her shoulder, through the cloudy plastic. No doctor to wag their finger at her.

And maybe it was selfish of her, but she desperately wanted to talk to someone. To share this pain that rode in her chest like a stone. 

She shut her eyes and took a few shaky breaths. When she opened them again, he was watching her, eyes urgent.

"One of our ships did receive the transmission," she said. "I don't remember what it was called but there was someone important aboard. A princess or something."

"Leia," he said. 

"Yeah, that was her. They sent a message they were on their way. But they got waylaid. A Star Destroyer. Over some dustball on the edge of nowhere. I'd never even heard of the system." She frowned. "-tooine, something."

"Dantooine?" he said, brows pulling together in concern.

"No, not that one. Tatooine. That's it. Like I said, never heard of it."

"What - happened?"

She was stalling. She knew it. 

"They took the ship," she said. 

He sucked in his breath. "Did anyone - "

"Everyone aboard was either dead or captured. The ship itself was destroyed."

"The plans," Cassian said. 

"Nobody knows," she said. "Maybe they were aboard the ship, maybe the Empire took them back - we don't know."

If only she'd kept them. If only she'd grabbed the data cartridge out of the transmission station. But she'd thought it was all right, with all those ships in orbit backing them up, and Cassian had looked as if he was about to collapse. Her first thought had been him. 

"They're gone," he said.

She nodded dumbly. "And there's more."

"How?"

"We got news today. Alderaan." She could barely say. "The Death Star attacked Alderaan."

"Like Jedha?"

"Worse," she said. "Much worse. The whole planet."

"The whole - "

"Yes," she choked out, and saw the horror dawn in his eyes as he took that in.

It was stardust, shattered to nothingness. A whole planet. Not one like Jedha or Scarif, either, that could be covered up or written off as a mining accident. They'd flicked their fingers and destroyed Alderaan, a Core world with a population in the billions. With that one stroke, the Empire had established that it could do whatever it wanted and nobody could stand against it. 

And the plans . . . the plans they'd worked so hard to find, sacrificed so many. Saw, her father. Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut and Kay, and everyone else who'd died on Scarif or come back in pieces. They'd fought so hard, they'd lost so much, and - 

"It was for nothing." She felt a tear, hot as lava, slide out of her eye and carve a burning path down her cheek. "It was all for nothing."

FINIS

[bluenet13]

I Swear That I Am Up to No Good

Tim and Lucy celebrate four milestones one prank at a time.

Read on AO3

Tim is still smiling when he walks back to the station covered in baby powder. He takes the corner quickly trying to get to the men's locker without running into any of his coworkers. But as the universe will have it, he's not that lucky and from all the possibilities, of course, he runs into Angela.

"Bradford, what the hell happened?" Angela yelps, glaring at the baby powder that got on her clothes when they almost collided.

Tim runs a hand through his hand in pre-exasperation and huffs a simple, "Lucy."

Angela's grin gets impossibly wider, and Tim wishes he had chosen to clean up at home instead.

"She got you with your own trick?" Angela asks knowingly, unable to keep her amusement from her tone.

Tim nods, and levels her with a stern glare, but he should have known that never works with his best friend.

"I knew there was a reason I liked her," Angela says proudly, fixing Tim with a smug look. "So, are you already planning your revenge, or will you give her a pass as a graduation gift?"

"If this wasn't the second time she's gotten me in a row, I might consider it," Tim declares, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "But I can't afford to get complacent. I need to keep her on her toes."

Angela chuckles, knowing all too well the playful rivalry between Tim and Lucy, and more than suspecting what it might be hiding. "What are you gonna do? Pull at her ponytails or hide her juice box?"

"Ha-ha." Tim mocks, trying to get past Angela but she moves a step and blocks his way again.

"What was her other prank anyway? I didn't hear anything about it," Angela questions, used to finding one or the other moping at the station each time they're on the receiving end of one of their pranks.

Tim's face falls as he remembers Lucy's fake love confessing and the way his heart had jolted at her words for reasons unknown, and he instantly realizes his mistake as Angela's interest is piqued. "Nothing. It was a dumb prank," he tries, glaring at her but he looks too spooked for it to be effective.

"You're hiding things from me, Timothy, and I don't like it," Angela says, waiting him out for a beat before continuing, "But you get a pass today. I gotta go get ready to meet Jackson and Lucy at the bar."

"You're meeting West and Chen up for drinks?" Tim asks, trying to sound nonchalant but failing spectacularly.

Angela nods and looks at him questionably. "What, they didn't invite you? I'm sure they won't mind if we show up together."

Tim shakes his head and squares his shoulder. "I don't want to go get drinks with the rookies. They're insufferable enough as it is but I bet they will be even more extra tonight."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Tim," Angela says placatingly, patting him on the shoulder as she steps away.

Tim takes a moment to think his idea through before he rushes behind Angela. "Hey, wait up. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," Angela says immediately, even as he eyes him warily.

"Chen and West usually do karaoke while at the bar, right?" He inquires with faux innocence.

"Ye-es," Angela agrees doubtfully, not wanting to get involved in whatever evil idea Tim is concocting.

Tim smiles gleefully, getting closer to Angela as if half-expecting Lucy to be hiding behind a desk, listening to their conversation. "Can you get close to the stage and record her?"

Angela is intrigued but also reluctant to get involved, but it's Tim so, of course, she agrees. "Okay. But if anyone asks, it wasn't me."

"Deal," Tim says with a wicked grin. "Thanks, Ange."

"Right." Angela clicks her tongue and waves goodbye, leaving Tim alone in the hallway.

As expected, Angela comes through and that night Tim's phone pings with a text message. He opens it and immediately bursts out laughing when the audio file starts playing. And it's unfortunate for everybody how Kojo is the only one privy to just how fond his face looks as he listens.

Tim forgets all about the baby powder prank and his revenge until three weeks later when Kojo's sitter calls in the middle of roll call. Lucy's tipsy voice fills the room as Tim rushes to shut it off.

He fumbles with his pocket and then his phone, almost dropping it a few times, but mercifully succeeds in quieting it before Lucy starts the second verse.

"Sorry, sorry. That was K-Kojo's sitter. She knows not to call unless it's an emergency," Tim splutters. He bites his lip uncharacteristically, looking down to hide his blush.

"Was that Lucy?" Nolan wonders, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room after the initial bout of widespread laughter and clapping.

Tim runs his hand down his face and wishes the Earth would break and swallow him whole.

"I'm sure I'm not only talking for Nolan when I say we're all eagerly waiting for an answer," Commander Grey prompts, looking expectantly at Tim.

"Y-yes," Tim eventually says, looking up for the first time and wishing he hadn't. Lucy is bright red and looking more than a little bit murderously directly at him. And the rest of the room is looking between them with a mixture of amusement, second-hand embarrassment, and evil delight. "Can we go back to work?" He tries before anyone asks more questions. "Please."

"I'm sure you'd like that, Sergeant Bradford," Commander Grey agrees, taking obvious pity on him, finishing his speech quickly and sending everyone on their way.

"Thank you," Tim mouths to his boss, making a quick exit as soon as they're all dismissed.

He's almost in the clear when Lucy's voice calls from behind, "Not so fast, Bradford."

Tim sighs and reluctantly turns around, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Yes?"

"What the hell was that?" Lucy shrieks, swatting at his shoulder.

"It was supposed to be a response to your stupid baby powder prank! I only set it as your ringtone, Angela's and anything related to Kojo since neither was supposed to call while on shift," Tim shout-whispers, appalled at his own stupidity. "I didn't mean for it to cause such chaos. My phone is usually on silent but Kojo was sick last night and I wanted to be reachable since the sitter was taking him to the vet today."

Lucy's anger softens into a mix of understanding and concern. "Wait, what happened to Kojo? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he should be. She sent a text, I think." Tim grabs his phone and reads, showing it to Lucy with a relieved smile upon seeing the good news that their dog is okay and it was something he ate on their walk.

"Phew, alright. You're off the hook because you were worried about Kojo," Lucy says, bumping his shoulder again for good measure. "But next time let's make sure the pranks are a little less public."

Tim chuckles and nods. "I'll make sure to change it to just your ringtone now."

Lucy shakes her head and glares at him. "I don't think that should be the lesson from this experience," she hisses.

Tim raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Oh, come on, Chen. Where's the fun in that? Besides, more than half of our pranks happen while on shift."

Lucy sighs, unable to hide her smile, full well knowing she can't disagree with that. They wouldn't be them if they didn't prank each other even if it sometimes carried some risk. "Alright, but no more office-wide chaos."

Tim seems to think about it until he eventually nods. "Ground rules are no fun, but okay. I will do my best not to disrupt the whole precinct again."

Lucy shakes her head in exasperation but reaches forward to take Tim's offered hand, sealing their agreement.

They walk away, side by side, their laughter echoing through the halls of the station. Despite the occasional mishap, Tim and Lucy know their antics are an integral part of their relationship, and neither is willing to give that up.

-x-x-x-

Tim steps into his new office at Metro for the first time, still giddy from the morning with Lucy and his heart bursting with pride as he takes in his nameplate on the door. But as he approaches his desk, he notices something peculiar and his smile turns into a frown.

All the personal pictures he carefully placed on his desk and around the office the night before have been replaced and he blinks in confusion before bursting into laughter. Instead of a picture of him with his Military buddies, there's a snapshot of Smitty and his bowling team. A tipsy Angela and Lucy grin at him from another picture, his girlfriend and best friend making funny faces at the camera. A stark contrast to the picture of his nephews it had replaced. As his eyes move to the other pictures, Tim notices Nolan where his picture in uniform had been, a candid photo of Gerald the Goat instead of Kojo, and picture of the Fire Department Banquet instead of Mid-Wilshire's own celebration.

Finishing his exploration of the whimsical images, Tim finally sits down, looking in his drawers for the original pictures but coming up empty. His amusement quickly turns to annoyance as his eyes land on the pile of documents he should be reading to get acquainted with Metro procedure and up to speed with their cases, but then he hears a familiar giggle coming from outside the door, and his irritation melts away instantly.

"I should have known you were responsible for this," Tim says, glaring at his girlfriend when he opens the door, even as his voice is filled with affection. He can never stay mad at her for long. One look at those eyes and he's always a goner.

Lucy's eyes sparkle with mischief as she steps inside Tim's office. She grins at him and nods, looking so proud of herself. "Guilty as charged. I wanted to celebrate your promotion in a fun way."

"The baby booties weren't enough?" Tim groans and reaches forward, pulling Lucy to him.

Lucy can't contain her laughter and only Tim's kiss manages to silence her, but not for long. "I knew you might wake up before me and ruin the surprise. So I had a back up."

"Right, a backup." Tim sighs but ends up smiling softly when he takes in the little makeover of his new space. "Should I be worried about a second back up? Is a baby powder bomb gonna explode on me as soon as I get into the shop?"

Lucy's disappointment is evident at the missed opportunity as she shakes her head. "Not today, baby."

"Then I guess I should be thankful." Tim shrugs, knowing that when it comes to their pranks, it can always be worse.

Lucy steps closer and wraps her arms around him, raising on her tiptoes to whisper closely, "I wanted to show you how proud I am of you. You deserve every bit of this success and I wanted to make your first day a memorable one."

Tim hugs her tightly back, feeling grateful for her presence in his life and incredibly lucky to have someone who cares so much about him to go the extra mile to make him smile. "Thank you, Luce. You sure know how to make every moment special."

"I try," Lucy says shily, burying her face in his shirt and breathing him in deeply. "And don't worry, all your real pictures are safe and we can replace them back before we go home tonight."

"There's space for all of them," Tim offers, his tone a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. "Well, maybe not for Smitty's bowling league. He can have that one back."

Lucy's laughter fills the air, but Tim swiftly captures her lips with another kiss.

And as they stand there, surrounded by the wonderful people and memories that make their lives special, Tim can't help but laugh back. This silly prank is Lucy's way to show him she's proud, but more than that it's a testament to their bond, and a reminder that in the midst of their chaotic lives, they will always have lighthearted moments like this to show each other how much they are loved.

-x-x-x-

Tim and Lucy lace up their shoes, ready to embark on their run. Tim smiles mischievously as he gets up, and reaches behind him, handing Lucy a small gift box.

"Happy Anniversary, babe," he says softly, his blue eyes sparkling under the morning sun. "I know we said we would exchange gifts at dinner tonight, but I thought this might come in handy right now."

Curiosity piqued, Lucy opens the box to reveal a new smartwatch. She looks up at Tim, her face beaming with delight and jumps into his arms. "Oh, Tim, it's perfect. Thank you!"

"Yeah?" Tim asks shily, when they step away. "I already opened it and got it set up and synced with mine. I hope you don't mind."

Lucy frowns, surprised she didn't notice Tim wearing a new watch, but she blames it on the extracurricular activities they indulged in that morning. "It's okay," she says, leaning forward to gaze at his watch. It's gray with a dark blue strap that matches perfectly with her light blue one.

With the new smartwatches strapped on, they set up on their run, with Kojo bouncing excitedly alongside them. For the first few minutes the run goes on as expected, with Tim setting a quick, steady pace around the pond in their local park. They pass the Little Free Library on the right, and the bench with the guy lifting weights on the left, and it isn't until she almost runs into a tree that Lucy notices something is off.

As they make their way through the familiar park, Tim starts changing their usual route, taking unexpected turns here and there. Lucy almost crashes into a kid on a bicycle at some point and gets tangled in Kojo's leash at least twice.

Lucy laughs when it's Tim who almost trips after taking a sharp turn, but then she almost falls into a fountain as she struggles to keep up with the chaotic rhythm of their run. "What's going on, Tim?" She asks eventually, pulling on his hand so he slows down. They're both winded but Tim is somehow still smiling and for the life of her Lucy can't figure out why. "Did you plan a secret obstacle course for our anniversary? Is this some kind of Tim Test? Did I do something wrong?"

Tim chuckles, feigning innocence and shrugs. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I thought we could switch it up and take the scenic route instead."

Scenic? Lucy mouths, wondering if with scenic Tim means that he wants to explore the bottom of the pond, or get intimately acquainted with the trunk of the trees in the park. Still, she nods, and lets him continue to guide them in their haphazard run.

To her relief, the run ends a few minutes later and they make it back to his truck in one piece. They're all breathing hard, even Kojo needing to stop to catch his breath, and Lucy's thankful they had decided to skip breakfast that morning.

As they return home, Tim gestures towards his laptop on the living room table before heading into the kitchen. "Hey, while I get started on breakfast, why don't you check how our run went? The new app should show us a map and some cool stats."

Intrigued, Lucy logs in to Tim's profile and her brows furrow as the tracking app automatically opens. She loads the map, and her eyes widen in disbelief as she takes in what is being displayed. "T-Tim?" She stammers, trying to raise her voice so it reaches him in the kitchen despite her breath being stuck in her throat.

Tim appears beside her, making her jump, and she turns to face him, then back to the map. The screen showcases a winding line that spells out the words 'marry me?' in bold letters, mirroring the messy yet now memorable path they took during their run.

Lucy turns to Tim again, her heart racing, as realization dawns upon her. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and her voice trembles as she asks, "Tim… is this…?"

Tim chuckles, a warmth in his eyes that matches the love in his voice. Instead of responding, he gracefully drops to one knee, and Lucy's hand instinctively flies to cover her mouth, feeling as if she's been transported into the middle of one of her favorite rom-coms.

"Lucy Chen," Tim begins, his voice filled with genuine emotion, causing tears to stream down Lucy's cheeks. "From the moment I met you, you've changed my life for the better in so many fucking ways. I was a little bit broken when we met, but with your smiles, quick wit, and incredible heart, you managed to put me back together so that I could feel I was deserving of your love… of your loyalty… of you. You make every day brighter, and I can only hope I bring into your life even a fraction of what you bring into mine. I'm the happiest when I'm with you and I can't imagine my life without you, baby. Will you marry me?"

Tears well up in Tim's eyes now as he looks up to Lucy and prepares to wait expectantly. But Lucy's response is immediate. She nods enthusiastically and launches herself into his arms. "Yes, fucking yes! A thousand times, yes!"

The ring box Tim had been holding slips from his hands as he embraces Lucy, their kisses overflowing with promises of love, joy, and the joint future they have both always deserved, but never believed they could have.

When they finally break for air, Tim retrieves the ring and gently slides it onto the fourth finger of Lucy's left hand. The delicate band, adorned with small diamonds and moonstones set in rose gold, perfectly symbolizes their love—simple, yet full of brilliance, and inconspicuous enough that it can be worn to work every day.

"Do you like it?" Tim whispers, and it's only then that Lucy realizes she's been completely enthralled, staring at the ring for who knows how long.

She nods and leans forward, pressing her lips against his. "It's perfect, just like you," she breathes, savoring each word against his mouth.

Eventually, they break apart to continue celebrating, but the taste of each other lingers. Their love intermingled, as they revel in the joy and certainty of a forever filled with pranks, love and laughter that's bound to be nothing short of extraordinary.

-x-x-x-

Tim and Lucy settle down for a cozy game night, ready to dive into a round of Monopoly. The game isn't their usual choice but Lucy had insisted and Tim was more than happy to indulge her.

Lucy has an impish look about her as she pulls out a custom-made Monopoly she had ordered from Etsy. "Look what I found, babe!" She exclaims, excitement evident in her voice. "I thought it would be a fun change to try a personalized game tonight."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Personalized? How so?"

"Well, I found this Etsy seller that's all about creating personalized versions of famous board games. So she created a custom board and Chance and Community Chest cards that are all about us and our lives." Lucy beams as she explains, revealing the intricately designed cards and familiar locations on the board.

"O-kay," Tim agrees slowly, equally intrigued and apprehensive.

The game starts predictably enough, with the only indication that it is a different version, the fact that Tim is able to buy the 'North Hollywood Police Station' and Lucy buys Angela and Wesley's street. Tim then gets a Community Chest card that gives him $100 because he won the betting pool at the precinct and Lucy has to pay $50 to a charity for rescue dogs.

It isn't until they have been playing for a while that Tim notices the strangely specific nature of some of the cards he keeps receiving. This one tells him to pay $50 for a last-minute nanny replacement, and he frowns but pays anyway. On its own, the card is innocent enough, but then he gets a card that says "your baby ran out of diapers and in your rush to get to the store the cops stop you, go to jail." He goes to jail but now his spidey senses are tingling.

He asks Lucy about it but she shrugs and says that it's probably because she mentioned having friends with kids when placing the order for the custom Monopoly so the creator chose to include some things related to that.

Tim accepts her answer reluctantly. But then Lucy gets a Chance card that sends her to the preschool that they suspiciously pass every morning on the way to work and he glances up, unable to ignore his suspicions anymore. "Lucy, what's going on? These cards seem oddly tailored to our lives. And it's not because Angela and Harper have kids."

Lucy's been grinning ever since the game began, her smile widening ever since Tim got the first strange card. But now, her eyes are twinkling with excitement and something else that Tim can't name as she explains, "Those cards are a clue to something else. Do you want to know now or do you want to keep playing?"

Tim's heart skips a beat as he looks at Lucy, anticipation and nervousness intertwining in his chest. His girlfriend looks positively radiant and now that he really sees her he notices a new glow to her already bright persona. "What is it?" Tim asks, his voice shaking slightly. He has an inclination about what this is about but he needs her to spell it to him out loud.

Lucy's grin turns devious as she reaches into her pocket and hands Tim a card that reads, "Congratulations! You're going to be a parent. Advance to 'Parenthood Avenue' and start building your family!"

Tim's eyes widen, and a wave of emotion rushes through him. He blinks back tears as the dream that always felt just this side of attainable is suddenly staring back at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but is unable to find the words.

Releasing the card from his shaking fingers, Lucy sets his hand over her still flat belly and settles her head over his chest. "Tim, we're going to have a baby. We're going to be parents." Her voice trembles with excitement as she murmurs the words against his shirt, and her own tears start falling when she feels his tears on her skin.

He kisses her cheek and forehead, then gently pushes her back and leans down to kiss her belly. "God, Lucy. This is the best prank… the best surprise, the best news ever! I can't believe we're going to be parents."

"Are you happy?" Lucy asks, bashfully. She stares directly into Tim's beautiful eyes and wishes their baby girl or boy gets blue eyes like his.

Blue gazes into brown as Tim's thoughts mirror the sentiment, desiring not just one but two sets of his beloved brown eyes to meet every day. "Happy doesn't even begin to describe it, Luce. This is everything I've ever wanted," he says softly, taking her hand in his and kissing the two rings on the fourth finger of her left hand.

A beaming smile spreads across Lucy's face as she leans in, her forehead resting against Tim's. "I've never been happier, Tim. And it's all thanks to you."

Tim brushes a strand of hair behind Lucy's ear, and stares pensively up ahead. "You know, I can already see our little one running around, causing mayhem, just like his parents, and playing pranks on us and his or her uncles and aunts every chance they get."

Lucy chuckles and nods, because they will for sure inherit their mischievous spirit. "Good thing we have years of experience to keep up with them."

"Can't wait," Tim muses, ready for 9 months and a lifetime more of that spark that makes their lives special.

[death-in-a-handbasket]

I joined this account today because I’m sick with no content related to my fucking hyperfixation on my beloved Yukito, so hello! ( And maybe sorry for my bad english ). Thank you for being there for Gaiden fans. I would love to share my headcannons here...

For starters, I would like to say that AYATSUJI IS GOTHIC AND ANARCHIST, because honestly, isn’t growing up being exploited by the government since childhood that your pain will be misinterpreted as just an “arrogant personality.”

And I also love to see him as someone who values ​​art. In addition to having dolls in his basement, there are also paintings that strangely seem to scream through his wounds, a reflection of what is familiarly brutal about this delicate-looking man.

The type of music he listens to ( he rarely listens to music due to sensory overload issues ) has no lyrics OR he oscillates between 3 songs from the album Lullabies to Paralyze by QOTSA ( ‘In My Head’, ‘The Blood Is Love’ and ‘You Got A Killer Scene There, Man...’ ).

His favorite type of literature is Dark Romanticism. I swear, it is no wonder that he collects semi-mythical dolls ( in a sense of to admire and preservation ), when this type of literature reflects the grotesqueness of these creatures and the austurity of human malice.

ANYWAY, I LOVE MY PRECIOUS HUBBY ꒰ ۶ৎ つ ς ꒱

AHHH hello dearie !! welcome to yukito nerd central aka we hyperfixated on a character that the fandom does not know or give a fuck about 😔‼️ but hey we’re getting an English translation of the light novel so I’m SUPER excited (also no worries about bad english you sound just fine honey :] !!)

I need more fanfics and fanart of this man. gaiden community (referring to the same four people) save me gaiden community save me 🙏

first of all I LOVE the idea that this man is anarchist, like I feel he understands why the government is there and why it needs to do what it does but that doesn’t stop him having an abject dislike for the very organization that basically keeps him on death row and only has him alive because he’s useful, idk man you’re right that’s gotta brew contempt fr, also I like thinking about how he’s gotta specifically hate the police force too because he could practically do the work of an entire unit of officers, I don’t doubt that the police who know about him probably slack off because they know he’ll take up the slack 💀 I mean he has to or he’ll die

ALSO ART LIKER YUKITO. TRUTH. there’s no way a man with such adoration for dolls doesn’t appreciate and pay the artists who make them extremely well, I bet sculptors in his area love him because he’s an excellent patron, also he no doubt vents through the dolls and artwork he makes, all that internal anger and suffering has GOT to go somewhere

as for music, I always imagined he’d like stuff made between the 1910s and 1960s, Otis Redding is always a man that comes to mind when I think of music for him, also you have to know he’s listening to that shit on records, bro does not have Spotify ‼️

ALSO YES DARK ROMANTICISM 🙏 if him and Poe start a book club it’s over for everyone, they are reading about horror and the grotesque every day of the week and discussing it in depth 100%, these are antisocial men of course they’re reading about the terribleness of humanity <3

thank you for visiting my inbox hun !! feel free to send asks anytime, he is truly the husband of all time 🫶

here is ms paint yukito I made during lecture as a treat :]

[early20sfailingplenty]

I was genuinely brave today and I wanna tell the Sinclairs about it but I can't so I'm telling all of you🥹🥹🥹

Okay so yesterday when I was grocery shopping, my work senior texted me to ask if I wanted to drop one of my shifts so I would have more time for uni. That WOULD help me out BUT financially I cannot afford to lose £2-300 a month. It was just sprung on me and instead of making a snap decision I asked if I could have time to think on it and promised to tell her my decision tomorrow (today). So I think on it, I got upset and angry (still haven't quite figured out yet why I got defensive but I think it's because the way she asked me, made me feel like she was saying I'm incapable of working four days a week and doing a degree. That's NOT what she was saying, but that was my snap emotional response. Obviously I didn't act on it and just asked her for thinking time). I do all my numbers once I'm home and yes, I canNOT afford to lose that money but yes it would help me academically. So time or money, which is it?? I picked money, I had to. Mum agreed, dad disapproved last night but this morning told me he agreed with me. So, fine, it's decided. So then today, I go into work, and half hour before the end of my shift, my work senior comes up to me and says, are you ready? I say yes, we find a quiet room.

HERE'S WHERE I WAS BRAVE.

Okay so she asked me again if I wanted to drop a shift to make uni easy on me and I said no thank you, financially I can't afford it but also I just REALLY love my job and I wanna stay on my four days a week. I didn't hesitate, and I didn't hold back. I was truthful and honest and I was as polite as possible given how angry I was yesterday. She then said that she loves having me on her team and doesn't want me to lose any hours either but she's just thinking about me and my mental health because she doesn't want to find out that I've been awake for 32 hours between work and uni EVER again because I'm one of her girls and if that's happening then she isn't doing her job to take care of us properly. So then I pulled out my notebook and showed her what needs to be revised between now and October and what this year will be like (see below pictures. This is the PREP WORK alongside learning an entire computer software programme we will use regularly AND six online labs to complete).

And she sat and thought for a moment because I refuse to compromise on my job not only because I'm stubborn but also because I just genuinely can't afford losing that kinda money and then she asked for all of my assignment deadline dates, all my lecture dates, etc etc and I gave them to her (I don't have lecture dates or group project dates yet because I get them in mid September) and she wrote them in her diary and said that she's gonna make sure that I have at least two days off in a row for all of those weeks so I can fully concentrate on my assignments and she asked that when I get the other info, that I give them to her so she can pencil me in as needing a day off. She also said that when I get my textbooks and the platform opens up, to bring my laptop into work and she's gonna sit down with me and work out a day by day plan for the first week and then I can copy that for all the other weeks so that I have time for my job AND uni AND free time without sacrificing one or the other.

I'm so so happy, I was expecting to be forced to give up one shift a week and I expected to be forced into what I didn't want but she listened and was so lovely and accommodating and good to me.😭😭😭 AND THEN SHE DROVE ME HOME BECAUSE MY KNEE STILL ISN'T FULLY HEALED BUT IT ALMOST IS😭😭😭😭😭honestly she was so kind it genuinely stunned me and I feel like I'm waiting for the shoe to drop...

And I just.... Proud Sinclairs because I'm getting braver and more vocal and confident???? Please have I earned Bo's smirk and Vincent's approving "mmf" and Lester's sunshine smile???😭😭😭😭

I'm getting so much braver now and saying no more often and pushing back and finding the spine my abusers took from me almost a decade ago. I'm doing it I'm doing itttt and now I just gotta keep good on my promise and make it work and not lose myself in the process...

[starrumstories]

Matteo's Dilemma

The dinghy rocked in the waves as my first mate Jimmy rowed us towards shore. Behind me was my ship, The Red Vengeance, my second love and pride which I had only recently possessed and was on my first venture with. The sun baked my hand resting on the boats side as the sea breeze washed over my face.

“I think I will go swimming this afternoon,” Jade said, my wife and first love and pride. In her white dress, sitting beside me on the bench, her hand felt dearer to me than the treasure I was seeking.

“As long as you do not wander or stray from the guards. It is a dangerous island. There are natives about and I could not bear to have you in any danger.”

“Aye,” Jimmy said, “they have the taste for human flesh too, so it’s said. Captain Redsword and his crew disappeared on this island two years ago. Only God knows their fates now.”

“Matteo,” my wife said, “I will be okay. We have been in great danger before. And providence always pulled us through. Remember when we snuck into the governors mansion on Trinidad?”

I laughed. “How could I forget? That was the moment I fell in love with you. When you lost your slipper and nearly got us caught going back for it. You wouldn’t leave that night until you had your dear slipper.”

“I still wear them. They are a part of me now and I would be so disappointed if I had listened to you and left it behind.”

“After today, I will buy you a thousand pairs of slippers,” I said, kissing her hand. “And silk dresses, ribbons for your hair. A maid. And a house worthy of a royal,” I said, my chest beaming with high hopes. Being the son of a streetsweeper in London I always dreamed of having food everyday, new clothes, and then as I grew older, so much more. At 18 I signed up as a deckhand on a merchant ship. After crossing the Atlantic and making port in St. Martin I deserted and spent the last four years working my way up to pirate captain of my own ship. I still owed 10,000 gold pieces on the Red Vengeance and had no money left to pay my crew. But they all believed in what I was doing today.  

“Aye we’re here,” Jimmy said, placing the oars inside the boat and stepping into the water. I watched his boot sink into the white sand beneath a foot of perfectly clear water. He pulled us onto the beach.

The three other dinghy’s beached as well and my crew of 20 men began setting up our temporary camp. “You men,” I commanded to three lads, “set up the canopy for my wife over there by the palm tree. Alec and Jones get a fire going for food. Have the stew ready when we get back. Jimmy, round up half the men to go with us into the jungle and get their canteens filled from that stream. The rest will stay behind with Jade.”

Jade approached and embraced me, her hand gliding over my shirt. “Matteo, please be safe. I cannot raise our baby on my own. My belly is already bigger, I am sure the men will find out soon. And I love you so much.”

I touched her stomach, sensing the little one growing inside, before placing my hand over hers on my chest. “I will come back. With our entire future and fortune in my hands. Don’t worry Jade, we can overpower any natives who might try to stop us and I want this too bad to fail. In fact, I cannot fail. We have no other money.”

Her brown eyes resplendently stared into my own, her dark lashes blinking. “You have been talking about the Treasure of Pachanachi as long as I have known you. Three years now. And we have had to wait a long time for this.”

“Yes,” I answered solemnly, “the treasure he stored in a cave 400 years ago can only be found once every 10 years, at exactly noon on the summer solstice. Which is today. The high sun will be in position to unlock the cave and I will have one hour to gather his hoards of gold and silver. And then…I think I will go swimming too!”

“If…perhaps we could swim together, with the men not around, you would enjoy another kind of treasure,” she said smiling up at me.

Laughing I said, “I will hurry back then.” I kissed her and walked towards Jimmy who had prepared our gang to head into the jungle. “Let’s go. We leave this beach debtors and scallywags, we will return richer than kings.”

‘Ahah!”

“Hurrah!”

“Whoopee!” the men raised their hands to the sky and cheered. Securing my sword on my waist, canteen on a string around my neck, and the map, I made my way through the leaves of two bushes into the brush. Eight men carried four chests, which, if we could fill with treasure would be enough, well, to buy all of Britain.

The sun was a quarter way through the sky. We had plenty of time, but the trek was tough. My hand was cut on a razor sharp leaf. My cheek was itchy and hot after brushing against a red fern. We disturbed two parrots, red, blue, and yellow, who flew to a high branch and looked down at us. “Curse! Curse!” they parroted. “Cook flesh! Cook flesh!”

“What in Jolly Rogers kitchen do they mean?” Jimmy mocked? “If I had a slingshot I would cook up some parrot steak.”

“Are you worried about a curse captain?” a crew man named Mad Milly said from behind me.

“Curse? No. I have heard all the myths surrounding this treasure. Pachanachi was a great king who was usurped but escaped in a ship to these islands. A sorcerer he was too, of sorts. More of a scientist really. He grew old and eventually was the only one left of his party. Sad, he had no one with him at the end, and no progeny, but he did hide his wealth here with a secret way to access it. But curse? No, it is just treasure and science.”

“Curse! Curse!” the parrots said again. We moved on deeper into the jungle. It had been an hour, and we were close I thought as I studied the map. I had much time to think. My thoughts mostly revolved around what I was going to do with the treasure. I loved Jade, and we were going to have a baby. My main dream was being with her while also being extremely wealthy. Maybe we would have many more babies. I could abandon my crew and take the treasure all for myself. Would that be wrong? But I would keep Jimmy around. He was a great number two and would go with me anywhere. I could buy a Chateau in France and drink fine wine every night. With these thoughts in my head, each step I took I felt like I was going to bounce right up over the trees.

Until we came to a pool of water surrounded by trees, its surface undulating from a ten foot waterfall emerging from a hole in a cliff of gray rock that lie at the foot of the mountain.

“This is it,” I exclaimed, folding the map and placing it in my pocket. The men put their chests down and walked to the edge of the pool. There were patches of sunlight on the ground where it passed through the trees, and a big circle of light in the center of the water. I studied the scene, assuming that that patch of sunlight must be where the key lie.              

“We are close to noon captain,” Jimmy said. “About half an hour to go, I’d reckon.”

“Aye I’d second that,” I said glancing at the position of the sun. “Let’s be alert. Be ready men.”

We stood around the pool, alternatively glancing at the sky back down to the pool, the waterfall, the cliff. So close to it now. My heart wanted to jump out of my chest to wherever this treasure was. I only had to wait 20…15…10 minutes.

“Anytime now boys,” Jimmy said.

We were quiet. I could hear my men breathing. Birds chirped all around us. A centipede crawled beneath my boots. Leaves rustled behind us. Insects everywhere. Flying, landing on us. More leaves rustled. Sounds like an animal.

“What in the heck,” Mad Milly said. “That is loud, and sounds likes its coming towards us.”

“Something is definitely coming behind us,” Jimmy said.

I put my hand on my sword. It was undeniable now that it must be a boar or a man. A second later a man did burst through the brush and came running towards us. It was Jones. He ran up to our group. His shirt was torn, he had a cut on the side of his head, sweat poured down his face.

       “Captain, they have taken her!” he said, struggling to catch his breath.

       “Jade?” I said, fear stabbing at my heart. “Who took her? Tell me!”

       “The natives. Savages! They all came down on us. 40 of them at least. With clubs and arrows. They killed Alec and many of the men, but they carried Jade off with them.”

“To where? Did you go after them?” I said, panicking.

“We couldn’t, everyone else was hurt. And I rushed here, following your trail so that I could tell you. It will take all 10 of you to get her back.”

“They’re going to eat her,” a crew member gasped.

“He’s right captain,” Jimmy said. “The parrots – “cook flesh” they said. That they did. I don’t doubt it. What are you going to do? 40 savages? We’ll need all of our swords.”

“But the treasure!” Mad Mac exclaimed. “If we go it’ll be 10 years before we can come back.” “Ahhhhhhhh gods!!!” fury seeped through my clenched fists. I picked up a rock and threw it hard as I could into the trees. “Why! Curse the fates!” I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes and put my hand on my forehead to calm down and think clearly. I had to decide right now. What will I do? Save Jade, my wife and love, or remain here to claim unfathomable treasure?

[shefanispeculator]

For every new star on the recording scene, there is at least one unheralded industry drone without whom that star might never have shone. In the case of Blake Shelton, who is about to receive his well-deserved Hollywood Walk of Fame star after more than two decades as one of country music’s best, there are probably more like a dozen heroes who made Blake’s incredible career possible.

One of those heroes is your humble Nashville correspondent, me. No, that’s the truth. Once or twice in your life the impossible hits you between the eyes and you need to be prepared if you want to turn it into pure sunshine before the inevitable eclipse drifts in.

One day in 1995 or 1996 I got a call from Jim Sharpe, then publisher of American Songwriter magazine.  He had found this big kid from Oklahoma, best singer he’d ever heard, would I like to come by the office to hear him sing?  “Why?” I asked. You see, I was trying to dodge what the gods were hurling at me.  I was done with the music business. I would just be a waste of this kid’s time.

But a week or two later found me in Sharpe’s office shaking hands with this kid, six-foot-four, great looking, with a big, black cowboy hat, big black Takamine guitar, a voice so huge it shook the walls of Sharpe’s office, and a laugh to match.

I was hooked, and soon we were writing songs together every Tuesday.

But nothing further happened until a couple from California hired me to run their music publishing company. We signed Shelton to a publishing deal. And then nothing more happened. I learned that he’d already been turned down by labels all over Music Row, talent be damned.

Now comes the big twist in the story.

I’m not the hero, after all.  The hero is a guy I’m about to call. Bobby Braddock has written or co-written many of country music’s biggest hits, including “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” “I Wanna Talk About Me,” “People Are Crazy,” “Golden Ring,” “Time Marches On” and “D-I-V-O-R-C-E.”  He also produces terrific demos and he’s always wanted to produce records.

The call goes like this:

“Hello, Homer (his phone name is Homer, and mine is Jethro). I’ve got something I want you to hear.” I’m holding an old microcassette tape recorder in my right hand, and a telephone receiver in my left. This phone call is high-tech. I push the recorder flush against my telephone mouthpiece and press the start button. Homer listens to Blake sing for a little more than two minutes.  When the tape has finished playing, Bobby speaks.

“The song is OK, but who’s that singer?”

“He’s 20 years old and we signed him a couple of months ago,” I reply.

“He sounds like a young Hank Jr. Can I meet him?”

The three of us met at Braddock’s house and Braddock and Shelton hit it off immediately. Braddock agreed to produce Shelton, and Braddock persuaded his publishing company, Sony/ATV Music, to pay for the session. That’s a big deal, to get a producer and publisher to put time and money into a session.  But the hard part is not cutting the session — it’s getting a record company to love the session and sign the artist.

Armed with the fresh recording, Braddock hit the pavement. One label at a time. Fortunately, in 1998, there were still a lot of record labels left in Nashville.

“I took Blake’s CD all over town,” says Braddock. “RCA showed some interest, but they passed. Arista Records showed enough interest to request a showcase, and we gave it to them, then they passed. I was running out of record labels. The last label I went to was Giant Records, an affiliate of Warner Bros. Doug Johnson listened hard. And he said yes.”

Now life got tougher. Braddock produced an album by Shelton. Virtually everybody at the label loved it. Braddock, Shelton and a whole lot of other people waited for the album to be released. And they waited. People wondered why they waited.

Then Debbie Zavitson, a stalwart of Giant Records’ A&R department, received a CD from publisher Jana Talbot of a special song called “Austin,” written by David Kent and Kirsti Manna. Braddock, Shelton and a handful of great session players went to Sound Stage recording studio on Music Circle South and cut “Austin” and two other songs. Braddock recalls that the label had picked another song for the first single, but he had sent copies of the session to several friends and they felt that “Austin” was the hit. He took this new information from “the people,” and, he says, convinced the label to go with “Austin” instead. Then they waited, and while they waited, rumors circulated that Giant Records might soon be closing down.

“It took Giant three years to put out Blake’s record,” says Braddock, his brow furrowed in puzzlement over the memory. “And it never would have gotten out at all, if it hadn’t been for Fritz Kuhlman!”

Braddock would later refer to Kuhlman as “the promotion man who committed mutiny.” Kuhlman had heard the rumors about Giant, and while he was not a powerful executive at the label, he did have the ability to send out copies of “Austin” to country radio stations all over the country. And that’s just what he did, because he believed in “Austin.” 

Stations began to play “Austin,” but Giant closed its doors anyway. By this time it didn’t matter. “Austin” was hot with or without a label. Giant’s parent company, Warner Bros., picked up the record and ran with it, and thanks to Kuhlman, “Austin” became a multi-week No. 1 country smash. 

Country music had a brand new star. Over the next two decades, Shelton would pump out hit after hit, and become a national TV icon on the worldwide hit show “The Voice,” as well as a member of the venerable Grand Ole Opry. I can’t help but think of the many heroes it took to make it happen for Blake Shelton.

Of course there’s Shelton, with all that talent, heart and personality. Then there’s Bobby Braddock, one of Nashville’s greatest songwriters, listening to hundreds of other people’s songs in search of that special one for Shelton. And Braddock in the studio, hour after hour, with some of the world’s best studio musicians, background singers and studio engineers, pursuing the perfect record. Then cruising from label to label, determined to find a yes among all the inevitable no answers. And then there’s me, playing a cassette over the phone to my friend Braddock, who I thought was a genius in a recording studio.

And gutsy Kuhlman, on his own, mailing out CDs on a wing and a prayer.

Lots of other heroes, too, braving the stiff competition: promoters, publicists, A&R people, bookers, roadies, managers — and nobody outside the business knows their names. It took a lot of skill and experience to make a music industry in those days, and I like to think it still does.