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tomriddleslove · 5 months

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Pt 2 - The one that you want.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 to Hey, trouble (DELETED)

Summary: The one where just as things are beginning to look up, everything comes crashing down. Alternatively: Tension, Fluff, Angst.

A/N: This fic was written very sleep deprived so I ask you to bear with me. The second part is my favourite so just stick with it.

Songs: The Way - Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

Lover, you should have come over - Jeff Buckley

Promise - Laufey

NOTE: I accidentally deleted my account and did not have the first part of this mini series saved! I will probably rewrite it but there is some context you should know, so i’ll try summarise it as concisely as possible:

You and Theodore used to be really good friends when you first joined Hogwarts. Naturally, as you both got older, you changed slightly. Theodore came back one summer and he seemed completely different, he was not only incredibly handsome but he had generally flourished as a person. The girls all loved him and he found a new set of friends, essentially forgetting about you. Time skip a few years and you become friends with Pansy, and the rest of the group. Theodore greets you as though nothing has changed. You habour a lot of resentment to him initially, but realise you really do love chilling with the group and so you set it to the side. In the fic, you’re at a party and you head up to the roof. Theodore appears and you chat for the first time in ages. It gets a bit tense when you subtly call him out but you try brush it off as a joke. He noticed you at their quidditch practice earlier on in the day with mattheos number painted on your face, and he sounds a bit jealous. You assure him it was only for jokes, though you’re confused as to why he’d be upset. Theodore (internally ) alludes to loving you and you’re both emotionally stunted idiots in love.

AND that brings us back to now. Enjoy xx

Friday had finally come, and you couldn't think of a word that could place just how relieved you were feeling. Don't get it wrong, you hugely valued your education, and took pride in working hard, but at the end of the day, there's only so much history of magic one could tolerate before their brain tuned out. The surprise quiz you took in class today told you that you had reached that point many months ago. But it was ok, that was an issue for the future.

You click open the door to your dorm room, tossing your bag haphazardly to the side as you undo your tie, pulling it loose with a groan of relief. Pansy is sprawled out comfortably on your bed because apparently, yours was comfier (they were the exact same thing, she just couldn't be bothered to make hers in the morning.)

You flick a strand of hair that fell in front of your face with a dramatic sigh as you flop down onto the bed, lying perpendicular to Pansy as you rest your head on her lap. She has a half smile of amusement as her hand comes down to pat your head, eyes trained on her book. You raise a brow and shuffle up slightly to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

You see the word ‘shaft’ once and that's all you need to see as you gasp with fake indignation.

“Pansy… Whilst I'm sitting here?” You groan and she grins, her face slightly red as she shrugs, shameless.

I mean, come on. You weren't a stranger to smut, but right in front of you? You grab the book from her hand and toss it across the room.

“None of that whilst I'm here. Your amazing and beautiful friend is vying for attention so focus on me.’ You say and she playfully rolls her eyes as she lies back on her bed.

“It's disgustingly hot. I can't be bothered for this year anymore. The days are as hot as hell depths and the evening has me freezing my nonexistent balls off.” Pansy moans, and you hum in agreement.

You’re grateful for your friend and her seemingly never-ending talent of speaking because you currently couldn't even muster the energy to speak.

“Do we have to go watch the boys today? Lila told me Madam Pince has charmed the library with a cooling spell. We could go there instead.” Pansy says, sitting up, and the idea is incredibly tempting. You live for nothing more than to get out of this dastardly heat, especially in the comfort of the library (Pansy and yourself had mastered the art of smuggling snacks in. The key was in making sure you triple-checked what you bought in, which you learnt after Pansy had accidentally sat on a Fizzlebees Exploding Sherbet last winter. The poor 1st year who had sat next to you was sure that there was some kind of attack and leapt under the nearest table.)

The mention of practice has your mind thinking back to your most recent encounter with Theodore. Just thinking about it again elicited that strange feeling in your stomach. You were, perhaps, close to a path of redemption (though it was more Theodore redeeming himself.)

With a sigh, you shake your head.

“We promised them we'd come. Besides, imagine the absolute havoc Mattheo will cause when he finds out we ditched for the library of all places. He would get us banned for a month, at the very least.” You say, and Pansy grumbles but ultimately knows you’re right. She sighs, muttering.

“Yes yes, I suppose you're right.” She begrudgingly admits and you grin, sitting up. You walk over to your closet, looking for something else to wear as you felt as though you were positively melting in your uniform. You flick through your closet, cursing the endless void that conveniently was full of sweaters and thick jumpers now summer has come. You dig around and find a pair of black denim shorts towards the back. You don't even know when you got them, but they fit and they'll do the job. You're thankful for the fact that you love the feeling of freshly shaven legs on your bedsheets, because heaven knows you would not bother to shave your legs for a man. You manage to find a green shirt, and you slip it on. It's nothing special really, but you weren't dressing up for anyone. You were long past those days now, you found that it was lovely not giving two shits. Pansy called it alarming, but you liked to think of it as… eclectic.

Pansy brings over her signature red lipstick (which you're sure only she can pull off) and holds your cheek in place to draw a number 10 on it, as standard practice. You reach up to grab her hand.

“Wait. Do 7 instead.” You say. She widens her eyes slightly and wiggles her brows as she looks at you.

“Oh? And why is that?” She probes and you playfully swat her, rolling your eyes.

“Theodore just asked me to. Besides we shouldn't inflate Mattheo's ego too much.” You respond a bit too quickly, and she has a shit-eating grin on her face. Pansy knows you well though, and she knows probing any further will only give her a stinging hex and nothing more, so she simply looks at you with a pointed look as she draws the 7 on instead. You watch as she traces the number 7 on her face too, adjusting her hair as she pouts and blows a kiss at herself in the mirror. You pointedly roll your eyes to tease her and she throws a pillow at you.

“Alright alright, you humble lady. Let's go.” You muse, holding your arm out. The two of you link arms as you descend down to the quidditch pitch. The sun is shining blazing down on you, and you feel uncomfortably hot and sticky within a few seconds of being outside. You truly weren't built for warm weather.

The grass on the pitch is a beautiful rich green and the sky is so picturesquely blue that it seems more like a postcard as opposed to real life. You imagine that this must be their favourite season; you had entertained the idea of watching one match in the winter season and immediately stopped after a gust of wind sent a bird flying into the girl sitting above you (You were sure it had given her that scratch on her cheek.) You couldn't cope with watching a match in such harsh weather, and you couldn't even begin to imagine how it must be to play in such conditions.

Idiots, really. They brought it on themselves. They definitely came to that realisation when they would be dragged out of bed at 5:00 am to go play in the freezing cold whilst you remained blissfully asleep under your warm covers.

You clamber up the stairs of the stands and curse under your breath. For all the beauty and wonders the wizarding world had, was it really that damn hard to have a few escalators here and there? You wanted to watch a practice game, not train to have the thighs of Hercules. You finally reach the top and shimmy down the benches with Pansy, leaning against the railing, The team was already up in the air, circling around whilst tossing the ball to one another. For all the grace and elegance Draco exuded on the ground, you couldn’t help but snicker when you catch the sight of him looking like he had slathered himself in red paint, all sweaty and grimacing; strands of his blonde hair clinging to his face.

“You alright up there Draco? Mummy forget to send you some sun cream?” You call out teasingly, and he sneers at you as Mattheo cackles, swooping down on his broom to greet you and Pansy.

“There they are!” Blaise says, a small grin on his face as he flies down to your level, joining Mattheo. You don’t even have the time to greet him because a loud gasp escapes Mattheo's lips, his hand coming out to grip your chin, tilting your face to the side.

“Traitors!” Mattheo says, eyes flickering between Pansy and yourself. You can't keep the grin off your face as you pry your face out of Mattheo's hands.

“Oh come on Mattheo. We love you all equally and need to express that love as such.” Pansy drawls, a taunting grin on her face.

“Fuck off, I'm the only important one,” Mattheo responds, puffing out his chest as he points to himself.

Blaise has to hold back from rolling his eyes, looking over at you exasperatedly. You exchange a glance with him and you feel your lips curl up into a small smile as you stifle a laugh.

“This was your doing! What did you do to them? Now I'm going to play like shit!” Mattheo whines, as he turns to look up at Theodore.

Theodore.

Your eyes flicker up and sure enough there he is. And god, how dare he look so good in this disgusting heat. His eyes are (and you have the feeling they were like that for quite a bit) trained on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He keeps his gaze on you, and you're sure at that moment he was trying to seduce your soul or play some stupid kind of mind tricks on you to have you thinking of him all day (it was working.)

His lips curl up into that godforsaken smile that borders on a smug little smirk. It has you embarrassingly weak in the knees and suddenly you're very glad it's hot, for you could blame your red cheeks on the heat. He flies down, tearing his gaze away from you as he comes close to Mattheo.

“Come on Mattheo, I’ve got an audience so I need to make sure I beat you embarrassingly quickly today,” Theodore says, egging his friend on.

“Yeah fucking right,” Mattheo says, turning to Theodore as the two engage in the most awful, embarrassing trash talk. You and Pansy exchange a glance and the two of you side-eye them with disdain.

The simple mind of boys managed to amaze you every time. Their attention span was impressively short.

Proving your point, Mattheo flies up to poke fun at Draco and Lorenzo, who both didn't seem to be holding up too well with the heat. You lean your elbows on the railing and stiffen slightly when Theodore flies up next to you. He hovers on his broom mid-air, resting his elbow on the railing in front of you. His face is incredibly close to yours, analysing your face with those sinful eyes of him which should be illegal because

Fuck, you were deprived.

“You wore it.” He says, and he sounds oddly breathless. You were assured by Blaise mere minutes ago that they had barely started practising.

Why did it seem so hard to speak? Why did Theodore seem so surprised? Why did you feel so bashful?

“You asked.” You respond, and his eyes search yours for a second before a smile tugs at his lips. His hand reaches out to cup your face, tilting it to the side as he looks at the 7 on your cheek.

Was this all it took for Theodore to touch you?

You’d have to start drawing 7 everywhere.

His fingers brush against your jaw, and you let out a shaky breath as his thumb runs along your cheek.

His touch leaves a fiery trail in its wake, and you are sure he has to be doing some sort of nonverbal magic because you feel as though you are going crazy. You resist the urge to let your eyes flutter shut because Theodore Nott simply has that effect.

He turns your head back and you stare at one another for a second more before he pulls back, and your mouth feels awfully dry.

“Mattheo smudged it.” He says, and his voice sounds slightly strained as he says so. You can't keep the corners of your lips from lifting slightly as you nod.

“Right.” You breathe out, looking at him. He grins, and this time you have to be sure you have not secured yourself a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, because you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief second before he leans back like he's been forced to do so, wordlessly looking at you once more before he grips the broom with one hand, effortlessly flying up to start practice.

You don’t even have the time to process whatever that was because your ever-eloquent and insightful friend speaks the very thoughts running through your head.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Pansy utters, eyes wide as she stares at the spot where Theodore was standing.

Amen to that, Pansy. What in the ever-loving fuck was that?

Your hand hovers over your cheek, ghosting over the place Theodore had just touched.

You part your lips to say something, but can't even formulate the words, and Pansy recognises that.

“Holy Shit! He- That-” She says, hands grabbing your shoulders as she shakes you. You're ashamed to say you needed it because you were sure you were dreaming.

“What's going on between you two? First, you’re wearing his number to the match. Then he's practically eye fucking you and you're both literally about to make out.” Pansy babbles and you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Oh calm down, Pansy. He barely looked at me, and he was just fixing it because Mattheo had smudged it. There's nothing going on.” She says and Pansy narrows her eyes.

“Oh yes, and I’m fucking straight. We both know that's a lie.” She deadpans, and you shake your head with an exasperated smile.

You couldn't tell whether you wanted to crack up with laughter or strangle the shit out of her. With Pansy, the line blurred more often than not. It’s why you loved her so dearly.

“Genuinely Pansy, nothing’s going on between Theodore and me. We used to be really good friends. That's all.” You say, with a tone of finality. She sighs, mumbling under her breath.

“….Painfully obvious”

“Both know that's a lie…..”

“Hopeless idiot…”

You shoot her a glare at her mumbling and she returns the sentiment with a pointed smile, enough to make you roll your eyes with amusement. You rest your head on her shoulder as the two of you watch the match.

The day Theodore had walked past you like you simply didn't exist was the day you swore to yourself you'd never, EVER, let yourself be good friends with him again. You stuck to your word always, yet this was proving to be one time where you didn't.

You prayed you wouldn't regret this, but alas, the universe is cruel at times.

The news of Draco’s father cancelling their annual summer holiday trip came surprisingly as great news to your groups as you all lounged in the library (which was as packed as it had ever been thanks to Madam Pince’s cooling charm. You all begged her to teach you the spell but she refused, and you were sure she kept it hidden to make sure people came to the library. Luckily for the group, you were one of the most conscientious students in your year, so you'd all get away with things due to the teachers favouring you greatly. A few other groups were kicked out immediately.)You all sat in a cosy arrangement in the far back end of the library. Pansy sat on the floor beside you, whilst you lounged in an armchair, feet thrown over one arm. Blaise sat on the other arm of the chair, with Draco and Theodore sitting opposite you. Between the armchair and sofa facing one another was a third sofa and a small round table. Mattheo and Lorenzo sat on that third sofa. Lorenzo stretches, sprawled out as he props his feet up on the table. You reach out and slap him with the book you were reading, and he cowers sheepishly as he puts his feet down.

“I was looking forward to summer in Versailles,” Draco complains, and you sigh. Would be nice to be able to go on such trips.

“Actually…” Pansy says, sitting up as though she’s just had an idea. Knowing your friend, you can't help but feel terrified about what's about to come out of her mouth.

“My parents have a beautiful holiday home down in France and they're going to Australia this year, so it's not being used. Why don't we all spend a week there?” Pansy says.

It's actually a very clever Idea, and a chorus of murmurs of agreement and nods echo throughout the group.

“That actually sounds good” Lorenzo says, and Blaise hums in agreement.

“I have family who live in France so they could sort out travel for us when we are there. I'm sure I can go.” Baise says and Pansy claps her hands excitedly, rubbing them together like some kind of evil genius (sometimes you were sure she was.)

“Draco, Theo?” Pansy says, and the mention of Theo's name has your eyes flickering up from your book. He's looking at you but the second your eyes meet he quickly looks at Pansy and nods, clearing his throat.

“Huh? Oh, uh- yeah.Sounds good.” He says. You lightly smile to yourself as you look down at your book.

“ I suppose I’ll tolerate it.” Draco sighs, and a chorus of groans escapes the group at his melodramatic behaviour.

“Oh piss off Draco, just admit you like us,” Mattheo says and Draco scoffs.

The boys very quickly once again get into a semi-play fight, and a stern hush from Madam Pince as she glares at the group of you sends them both sheepishly quiet. She walks away and it’s your turn to glare at the two boys.

“She may like me now, but if you two don't shut up she sure as fuck won't, and ill set your robes on fire if you force me to get through the summer whilst being banned from the library.” You spit, scolding them.

Mattheo and Draco both look down like children being chastised and Blaise has to hide his amusement as he nudges your shoulder, getting up.

“Right well, that's our cue to leave anyway. Have the real match tomorrow so we need an early night.” Blaise says. One by one everyone gets up, Pansy pushing off the floor with a sigh as she dusts down her skirt.

She turns to you, raising a brow.

“You coming?” She asks, holding a hand out and you look up, shaking your head.

“Nah. Gonna stay here for a while. Finish reading this.” You say, holding up your book with a weak smile. Pansy shakes her head with a smile, ruffling your hair (much to your dismay).

“My little neek. Have fun!” She says, and you flip her off at the comment. She grins, blowing a fake kiss back at you as she manoeuvres past the wooden bookshelves and out of the library.

You sigh and feel as though you're sinking further into the plush armchair, a pillow held to your chest as you read your book. Everything about the library was so pleasantly calming. The dim lights that cast dancing shadows of the book spines across the wall. The bibliosmia that you inhaled deeply as you lay for what felt like hours, reading whatever you could get your hands on. You’re so caught up in the allure of the library (Pansy might have a point, you definitely were a neek), that you don't even notice the presence of someone coming to sit down on the sofa next to you until the sound of the leather cushions sagging under weight draws your attention up from the pages of the book.

Seriously? Were you actually that oblivious? It was extremely alarming if you were.

You look up and see Theodore moving to take a seat on the sofa next to you. He stretches out his legs, his large frame suddenly making the space seem a lot smaller.

“Hey.” He says, and your lips quirk up in a smile as you speak.

“Hey,” You respond, folding the corner of your book.

“What are you reading?” Theodore asks, and you raise a brow.

Did he really have an interest in the book you were reading? A few years ago the Theodore you knew would never touch a book (though he would listen to you ramble on about them for an hour.)

But Theodore has changed, And so have you. He’s no longer the Theodore you knew, and the reminder turns the feeling in your stomach unpleasant.

You hold up your book, weakly smiling as you show him the cover. It was rather beaten and bruised, but you had owned this copy since your first year. You’ve reread it more times than you can count.

“Little women,” Theodore says, a small smile of recognition on his face. He remembered you, always walking around with that book. Theodore couldn’t comprehend what half the words in the book meant, but he remembered hearing you talk about it and thinking you were truly the most incredible person he had ever met.

That hadn't really changed.

“Mhmm. Must be my 5th time rereading it this year.” You say, with a small smile, and Theodore lets out a low laugh.

He's looking down at the table, and you admire the way the dim light dances along his features, making them look surprisingly soft.

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts…” Theodore starts, gaze trained ahead.

“......because you can't have the one you want” You finish, quietly.

Theodore's gaze drops to his hands, fiddling with the threads on his bag. The air is thick with unspoken words. A quiet dance of regrets lingers in the spaces between your words.

"Little Women," Theodore repeats, his fingers tracing the zip on his bag. "I remember how you used to quote passages from that book like they were sacred verses. It was almost like a religion for you."

You can sense the undertone in his words—the acknowledgement of a shared past that now exists as a distant echo.

The silence that follows hangs heavy.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the worn pages of the book suddenly feeling like a fragile shield against the currents of emotion. Theodore's eyes, once familiar and comforting, now carry a hint of regret and a touch of something unsaid.

"Jo March was always your favourite," he continues, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Still is,” you say, and he nods, looking up at you. His smile is tight-lipped, and you fight the urge to reach forward and massage the furrow of his brow. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a book.

Little women.

You frown as you take the copy from him, flicking through it. There are scribbles and annotations all over the pages.

You hate the way you instantly recognise his handwriting - another testament as to how Theodore was weaved into everything you did.

Theodore takes the book back, his fingers lingering on the worn cover. He opens the book, thumbing through the pages, his eyes fixing on the annotations.

"I've been reading it," he admits, his voice a low murmur. "Annotating it. I wanted to see it through your eyes, to understand why it meant so much to you."

You watch him, and your heart clenches at his voice. At his eyes, At the way he speaks, and the way he keeps his head down. The realisation that he held onto this piece of you, even as you both drifted apart, is enough to send you into a spiral.

"I see you in these pages," Theodore continues, his gaze locking onto the annotated paragraphs. "I see you in between the lines, and in the words. I see you in Jo, I see you in the witty comments. Every time I read this, It's like a piece of you is still here with me."

A lump forms in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry

“Every time I read these words, I feel like I'm back with you, even if just for a moment." He admits, looking up at you.

The devastation in his eyes is surely mirrored in your own.

You want to cry. You want to shout, because how dare he sit here, and speak of you with such reverence, and act like he cares for you when he had forgotten about you so easily? How dare he say he sees you in everything he does when he looked right past you when you stood in front of him?

How dare he act like he missed you when he didn’t?

You can't say anything. You physically can't, because every time you open your mouth it hurts. Grief clings to the pipes, scratching at your throat. It restricts your breathing, it gnaws at you.

Theodore looks at you and clears his throat, quickly looking down. You fail to make out the fact that his own eyes are threatening to spill with tears, as your own teary eyes cloud your vision.

It was always like that with you and Theodore.

Amid your shared tears, the unspoken suddenly becomes the unsayable.

He gets up, and he can't bear to look at your face because every glance of those tears in your eyes eats away at his heart. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, rushing out for fear of what you might say.

“See you” He murmurs, walking away. You can’t tear your gaze away from where he walks away even as his form disappears, and you swear the boy had taken part of your heart with him.

The quote “Fate was a cruel mistress” Never made much sense to you. Fate was beautiful even in its destructive nature. Fate was unstoppable, she didn't wait for anyone or veer away. You used to admire that about her. You found it to be a beautiful thing. Of course, it's because you also believe that fate would only wait for you. Wait that one extra second. Then, perhaps, Theodore and you would be on the same path. Instead, you were two, walking the same path only a heartbeat apart. As if time itself conspires to teach that love can occur in the same book, but pages apart.

You cannot love the beauty of her tenacity and cower from it too.

#harry potter #slytherin #tom riddle #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #slytherin boys fic #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst

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moonstruckme · 18 days

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Honeydew

I'm doing a rewatch of the bear and god he is just so irresistable. My childhood crush on lip gallagher has been revived and given new purpose! I can't promise to write for carmy consistently but if y'all have requests I wouldn't be opposed to them :)

cw: blood

Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader ♡ 972 words

There are tons of benefits to being in the same kitchen as a classically trained chef. For one, Carmy always gives you the easy tasks. Stirring pasta, scrambling eggs, chopping scallions. Today, you’re cutting up melon while he whips up some kind of citrus sauce, because your boyfriend is incapable of making just a fruit salad. No, it has to have some kind of fancy factor, or else they’ll take away his star, you guess. (Not that you’re complaining. That sauce is gonna be awesome.)

One thing that doesn’t tend to feel like a benefit is that any time you mess something up, you feel about three times more stupid than you would if you were by yourself.

How were you supposed to guess that instead of cutting down through the melon when you try to slice it in half, the tip of the giant knife you’re using would come jutting out of the melon and embed itself in your palm.

You gasp and pull away on instinct, and for a second, can only stare at the strangeness of it. You can see straight through to the inside of your hand, which is as unsettling as it is sickening, freezing you in morbid fascination until blood wells to the surface and your brain catches up to what’s happened.

“What?” Carmy asks flatly, having heard your gasp and well used to your kitchen mishaps.

You tear a paper towel off the roll, jamming it over the wound and fisting your hand around it. “I cut myself,” you say, somewhat shakily.

“How bad?”

You look down at the knife, miraculously clean-looking despite the blood now flowing from your hand. The paper towel is already starting to feel damp with it.

You use your good hand to take the knife out of the melon, setting it in the sink so you don’t forget to wash it. “I don’t—” You’ve never cut yourself this deep before. You don’t know how bad is bad. “It seems not great.”

You startle when a tattooed hand wraps around your elbow.

“Chill,” Carmy says, turning you around to face him. He takes your wrist. “Open your hand.”

“I can’t.” Panic makes your throat hot and tight. “It’s bleeding a lot.”

“Let me see,” he says, trying to pry your fingers away from your curled-up hand.

“I think it’s fine.” There are tears in your voice, and sometimes you wish Carmy was the type of person whose emotions naturally adjusted to balance out those around him, but your alarm only works him up.

“Let me see,” he insists sharply, and you don’t have the will to resist, letting him unfold your fingers. You flinch as he removes the paper towel, blood running quickly into the crevices of your palm.

“Shit,” Carmy hisses, tugging it over the sink. Your hand looks like a delta of crimson streams. He picks the paper towel up again, dabbing roughly so he can see the cut better.

“Do you think it needs stitches?” you worry aloud, then immediately want to hit yourself. Even if he says it does, you think you’ll push back, too fearful of hospitals and needles and odd, stinging pains to consent to getting them.

Your boyfriend is quiet, bending close to your hand as he lifts the paper towel again, and your voice goes a bit shrill. “Carm?”

“No,” he says, staunching the wound again.

Relief washes over you like a warm tide. Still, you ask, “How do you know?”

Carmy presses your fingers closed like they had been, loosing a breath as he gives your fist a light squeeze. “I’ve seen enough cuts that do need stitches to know the difference. What the hell did you do?”

You try to breathe out like he had, but your chest still feels too tight. You can feel your heart beating in your hand. “I don’t know,” you admit. “The knife slipped and went through the skin, or, like, the peel.”

His brows knit together, and Carmy picks your knife up from the sink. You have no clue what he sees that you don’t, his eyes narrowing, but he shoots you a look once he’s done, setting it back down.

“It’s dull,” he says, like this is a punishable offense. Maybe in his kitchen, it is. “This is why we keep our knives sharp, so these fuck-ups don’t happen.”

“How was I supposed to know sharp knives were less dangerous?” You’re trying to joke, but your voice comes out watery. You press your lips together as adrenaline catches up to you, your vision blurring.

“Relax.” Carmy sounds tired. His grip is strong, though, as he wrestles you into a hug, thick arms banding across your shoulders. You feel stupid, and silly, and he can tell, his hand cupping the back of your neck as tears carve hotly down your cheeks. “You’re just supposed to know.”

You laugh wetly, breaking up some of the emotion knotted in your chest. Carmy pulls back until he can see your face. His hand moves to the side of your neck, thumb pressed against your jaw.

“You’re okay,” he says firmly. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “Not really, I was just scared.” Your lips wobble pathetically, tears dribbling off your chin. “And you yelled at me.”

Carmy blows out a breath, his mouth slanting wryly. “That wasn’t yelling,” he says, but brings his other hand to your face, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you choke out, pushing against his hands until he gives in, letting you fold yourself into his chest again. “I’m sorry I didn’t sharpen my knife.”

“I’ll do it for you later.” You can feel his biceps bulging as he tightens his grip on you, holding you closer. “But there’s no fucking way we’re using that melon now.”

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Note

Heyyyyy i think your writing has become my drυg so here I'm again with another request. So Minho comes back from the maze really stressed so female reader offers to give him a massage and it ends up spicy obviously. TYSMMM! :)

The Minho brain-rot continues. Let's goooooo.

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER PT. 1

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: Spicey content, inappropriate language, scenes straight out of the start of a porno ngl, but no explicit smut.

You wait in front of the Doors, eagerly awaiting your best friend's return to the Glade.

This was your routine. Wake up, say bye to Minho, do your job, lunch, do your job, greet Minho, chill. Of course, Minho had to go to the Map room, but at this point, the Runners weren't fazed to find you in there with him.

From the outside, it probably seems strange to onlookers, but it's a perfectly normal relationship for the two of you.

When you first arrived, you were treated like a sideshow freak, and your forward and aggressive nature led to even more interest. It wasn't until Minho returned and acted like it was no big deal that you started to relax. He told everyone to get a grip and quit staring and it finally provided you with a much needed moment of peace.

You thanked him, and the pair of you started talking.

And you've been close ever since.

Though, you were starting to grow anxious. Where is he? He's already five minutes late and the other Runners have already returned.

This is weird.

Your excitement dwindles into anxiety as another few minutes pass, only for Minho to finally emerge from the last corner. He slows to a jog as he approaches, sweaty and tired, it's unusual for him to be this dishevelled upon his return.

What's even more unusual is that he completely blanks you, walking past without so much of a glance.

"Minho?" You jog slightly to catch up to his power walk.

"What?" He snaps, almost biting your head off with a single word.

"Shuckin' hell, what's up your ass today?" Minho freezes to snap his head towards you, but his expression melts when he sees that you're clearly upset just from the brief interaction alone.

Minho would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for you. How could he not? You're the only girl in the Glade and maybe it would've been easier if they sent someone that, well, wasn't you. You're exactly Minho's type, easily matching his sarcasm and not taking his bullshit mood swings - not to mention you're gorgeous in his eyes.

"Sorry," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, completely unfazed by the rumbling of the Doors shutting. "Just... had a klunky day, dude."

"Yeah, well that's not my fault, is it?" You cross your arms, tilting your head at an angle. You'd been waiting for him to return and this is how he treats you? Typical.

"Yeah, I know."

"Did something happen?" Your bitterness quickly turns into concern. It's rare for Minho to take his anger out on you, so you can tell something has seriously got under his skin today.

"Just... a lot of little things, and-" he sucks in a deep breath "-we've nearly fully explored the outer sections, and we still haven't found shit. It's just... yanno." You give Minho a sympathetic smile which he doesn't bother returning.

"You gotta learn to relax, man," he scoffs at this.

"That's easier said than done."

"Well..." you think for a second, trying to come up with a way to help, "I'm always here to talk to - and we could always go for a swim in the pond or just have a walk," you pause, trying to conjure up another option, "or I could give you a massage?"

Minho seems to spark up at this, though he just shakes his head, your attempts to lighten the mood already working.

"A massage?" Sarcasm drips from his voice as he raises his eyebrow, "Seriously?"

"Sure," you shrug, "why not? If it helps you to slim down for a little bit, then sure."

"Alright, then." He almost laughs at the absurdity, expecting you to tell him you're joking any second now.

"Okay, I'll meet you in your hut once you get back from the Map room," you flash him a smile before walking away.

"I'm gonna hit the showers, too, first," he shouts over to you, playfullness evident in his voice as he predicts you to turn around and tell him you're messing with him. But you give him a thumbs up, not even bothering to turn around.

You both seem to come to a realisation as the distance between you increases.

What the actual fuck just happened?

You were just spit-balling; throwing out ideas that could make Minho feel better. And now you've arranged to meet so you can rub your hands all over his body?

Fuck.

Despite your closeness, you've somehow managed to unintentionally take a step in a more... intimate direction.

Minho actually hasn't moved from where you left him as the cogs slowly start to turn in his head.

He thought you were joking. He agreed as a joke in response to your joke. And now it was actually happening. Or maybe this was still a joke? Maybe you're one-upping his joke?

His brain is fried.

You let yourself into his hut. How do you even do a massage? It's not like you've done this before, and if you have, you don't remember it.

Where do you put your hands? Do you make him lie down? Sit up? Should you ask him to take his shirt off?

Oh, Jesus.

You feel heated at the thought. Minho is attractive and well-built; easily the only guy you find yourself daydreaming about or staring at for a bit too long. And you actually enjoy being around him. You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you hadn't developed a crush on the boy. Which was something you forced yourself to ignore and push down.

Especially with Alby putting in a pretty strong "no touching" rule in place when it came to you. You didn't want to make things awkward or cause any potential problems for Minho.

This is a terrible example of your precautions.

Somehow, you both reach the same conclusion.

Let's just go with it. Let's see what happens.

Trust sexually frustrated teenagers to make bad choices- not one person is shocked.

Minho found himself eager, quickly getting through his work and attempting to use the cold shower to keep himself under control before making his way over to his hut. Curiosity driving him more than anything. What exactly were you planning to do?

You, however, have taken to pacing the room like a mad woman.

You're quick to compose yourself as the door opens, and Minho smirks at you, slipping into his own space. You are very visibly awkward and shuffling on your feet. Something Minho thinks is cute.

"Hi." You squeak out, your voice sounding like anything but your own.

"Hey," his hair is still slightly damp, making his normally spiked up quiff lie flatter. He quietly closes the door behind him. "So, how, uh, how we doin' this then?"

Minho's plan is to push you far enough that you crack and the joke ends. The problem with that plan is that this isn't a joke.

Sure, you might've said it with some underlying comedic tones, but the second Minho agreed, it kind of stopped being a joke to you. After all, you have this deep need to please Minho - something else you're never going to confess.

"Oh, well, I- I was thinking that, um- maybe-" you make eye contact with him, amusement swimming in his dark eyes, and you give up, letting out a sigh of defeat, "I don't know."

He laughs, dropping his head for a second before looking back up, "Look, you don't have to give me a massage. We can just chill and talk like we always do. It was a nice gesture and all, but I don't wanna make you uncomfortable-"

Yeah, okay, cool- it was a joke, right? You definitely don't seem to want to take this any further, which is proof enough to Minho.

"No," you say, a little too quickly, "I mean, I already said I would - you've had a shit day, and as your friend, it's my job to change that."

"Yeah, but it's really not your job to make me feel better - I kinda thought you were j-" it had actually started to sink in now. The thought of you caressing him and trying to ease him with your hands suddenly felt very real.

"I want to make you feel good, Minho." That was the final straw. The words made his expression fall, and his heart rate pick up. The change of the word 'better' to 'good' catches him completely off-guard.

Good, huh? You want to make him feel good? How good, exactly? How would you-?

Shuck, Minho- stop.

His head flies through about a hundred different scenarios, none of which he'd ever say out loud. He clears his throat in a poor attempt to hide the room feeling very hot all of a sudden.

"Alright," watching him suddenly become tense gives you a weird confidence boost and a strange feeling of dominance takes the place of your awkward anxiety. Minho is just as, if not more, flustered than you. "Take your shirt off and have a seat."

You sit down on the edge of the bed with your legs open, leaning forward and patting the ground in front of you, sending a friendly smile his way. He looks at you, then at the bed, then back at you.

"Yeah, alright." He murmurs, deciding to just accept his fate. He's in too deep now. All he has to do is keep himself under control and let you be a good friend. That's not so hard, is it?

Wrong.

He turns around, facing away from you as he takes off his weird harness/backpack thing that he religiously wears. He fiddles with the buttons on his blue shirt, the fabric is faded and sun-kissed from being Minho's favourite item of clothing. It's also your favourite item of clothing on him.

You can't help but stare at him as he lets the un-buttoned shirt fall to the floor. His back is toned with prominent shoulder blades. He stretches, and you watch in awe as the muscles tense before he turns around.

You have to force yourself to not have any kind of physical reaction as you look at him. He looks like he's been carved out of stone. There's the odd scar littering his tanned skin - something you're actually shocked there's not more of. A few dark hairs dust across his lower stomach, and his V line is sharp and dangerously on display as he makes no effort to readjust his low-hanging pants. You're assuming that the shirt added some extra padding for his belt to hold onto.

Shit - it's making your mouth water.

Though you maintain composure and Minho clears his throat, "You want me to sit on the floor?"

"Mhm," you hum, taking another second to make sure your words don't fail you, "back towards me."

Minho scoffs. Some part of him is still trying to understand what's going on, and the other has completely given up. He wordlessly does as he's told, and you're baffled that he's being so obedient.

He grunts softly as he lowers himself, clearly still aching from the rough day he's had. He sits between your legs, his back pressed to the bed frame. It wasn't exactly an uncommon position for you both to take, especially when you're spending time in his hut and you decide to play with his hair.

Honestly, you still don't really know what you're doing, but when you put your hands around his tight shoulders, just at the base of his neck, and start kneading the muscles loose - you seem to be doing a good job.

Minho wasn't expecting much, but the second your hands touched his skin, he knew he was a goner. You seem to effortlessly find the tension in his back and shoulders, relieving him of the days events.

He doesn't know how, but everything you're doing is lowering his stress and causing adrenaline to course through him at the same time.

You take to working in methodical circles, occasionally changing your approach. When your thumbs gaze the back of Minho's neck, softer than before, barely ghosting over his skin, a soft smirk appears across your face. Goosebumps creep across his skin, his breathing hitches slightly, and he leans back, further into your touch.

His eyes are shut and despite this being to relax him, his fists are balled as he attempts to will his sexual frustrated body to calm down. You guys are friends - you're doing this to be nice because you care about him.

"Did you like that?" It comes out as barely audible, something that you mainly said to yourself. Your own mind is starting to become foggy with desire.

He hums in response.

"Yeah?" You push, now knowing he heard you.

He hums again, but with an added nod this time.

He's turning into putty in your hands. You repeat the simple gesture. This time, Minho releases a noise. It's more of a hum than a moan, but it's deeper than the noises he made in agreement.

"You sound really pretty," you coo. It's almost like you're not meaning to even say these things but it keeps coming out. It's almost second nature to praise him and push him to answer you. You didn't even really know there was this side to you.

Neither did Minho. Minho was also blissfully unaware that he was into praise, but now he has to shift slightly at your words as a tightness fills his pants.

Not ideal.

"Don't say that," he mumbles, sounding a lot less assured than he intended. His brain feels fuzzy, and his body is a lot warmer than before.

"Why not?" The coyness fades from your voice for a second, your question becoming more genuine. You don't want to make him uncomfortable, but you're getting some mixed signals here.

Minho doesn't respond. He's too drunk on the skin-to-skin contact. So, you push him further, "Minho? Why shouldn't I say that?"

"Because I want you bad enough, and this is just driving me mad." Your movements slow, Minho's barely coherent grumbling takes a second to sink in.

He's also too high on lust to process it straight away.

"What?" You can hear your pulse in your ears as Minho's eyes flicker open, his head is resting back - pretty much in front of your crotch. Your face quickly grows red and it clicks what just happened.

"Shit- sorry, I didn't-" his head shoots up, but he doesn't get up, just rubbing his face with his hands. "I knew this was a bad shucking idea. Listen, alright, I didn't mean it- well, I did mean it, but I wouldn't have ever said it. You were just- you're just so-"

Minho's stunned into silence as you lean forward, your lips connecting to his nape. Electricity jolts through him, and he physically flinches. A shakey breath escapes him.

He wants you?

He wants you.

He's just said it. Maybe it's the sexual tension in the air or the fact you've been crushing on him for so damn long - but you don't care anymore. So, you press another kiss to his neck.

He accepts the gesture, moving slightly to face more to you, giving you easy access to his jaw. You kiss up his neck, lightly nibbling his jaw, and he purrs against your touch when you take his ear lobe between your teeth.

"I want you, too," you whisper into his ear.

Minho struggles to believe the words he's hearing, so he turns to face you fully, moving his body to the side with his legs crossed still.

He looks up at you. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, the sudden eye contact making your confidence dwindle. Your pupils are blown wide, and you desperately want to squeeze your legs together, but Minho is, quite literally, in the way.

A few seconds pass whilst he just looks at you, seemingly weighing his options out.

"Shuck it," you barely have time to react once the words leave his mouth. He raises suddenly, turning his body fully towards you. He catches your face in his hand as his pushes forward, leaving you resting on your elbows as he hovers over you on the bed - taking the power from you in one swift motion.

Your noses brush against each other, and you jolt forward. The desperation and heat is starting to drive you insane and he's too close to not be doing anything.

But he pulls away.

Shit.

Does he not want this after all? Have you almost ruined your friendship for nothing?

"I really like you, (Y/N), okay?" Minho's breathing is heavy. "But I don't wanna ruin our friendship- so if this is just dumb, teenage hormones to you... please just tell me, and we can stop this before we destroy everything."

His words are sincere, a tinge of pain creeping into his voice. Minho is used to taking risks, but this feels so current and scary. He's never put his heart on the line before, and it's a different kind of stress.

You take a second to think of the right words. There's so much you want to say, but there's also so much you want to do.

"It means everything to me," you lean further forward, "You mean everything to me."

Your foreheads bump and his lips ghost yours, making you whimper before he finally caves. Pushing his lips to yours, it's feverish and hot.

You follow his lead, feeling all the built-up tension and wants as he puts it into the kiss. Minho is basically on Cloud 9 - he's been dreaming of this for what feels like forever.

You flop backwards, letting Minho put more of his weight on you, resting himself between your legs. He basically growls into your mouth when you grind your hips against his, trying to get some kind of friction. You'd take anything to soothe the throbbing sensation pooling between your thighs.

His mouth dips down, kissing along your jawline, then down to your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, and he sucks down, causing you to claw at his back and let out a gasp.

He travels lower, hands under your shirt, and working their way up, brushing against your bra.

It's all moving very fast, and Minho is quickly becoming more needy, almost animalistic as he digs into your skin.

That's when the thought hits you.

"Minho, wait." He stops immediately, pulling away. Panic flashes across his face and concern washes through his body.

Shit, he hasn't done something wrong, has he?

"You okay?" He pushes off of you, standing up straight, making sure to give you any space you might need. "You want me to stop?"

"No," you confess, scooting back over to the edge of the bed and standing up yourself. Minho furrows his brows as you stand in front of him.

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing against his lips once more. He immediately melts, his hands going to slip to your waist but you grab him, taking him by surprise and spinning him around. You push him backwards, making him hit the mattress with a heavy thud.

"(Y/N)? What are you-?" You silence him with a kiss, using one arm to stabilise yourself as you hover over him, your free hand fiddling with his belt.

You pull on Minho's bottom lip with your teeth, watching his eyes roll back into his head as you palm at him through his underwear.

"I'm meant to be making you feel better," you talk into his skin as you start to kiss down his chest, "remember?"

This ended up being slightly more steamy than intentioned, but tension is what I'm good at writing so tension you shall get.

Love y'all, hope you enjoy :))

#🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader #minho tmr #minho the maze runner #tmr minho #minho x reader #tmr fanfiction #tmr

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moderndaycassandra · 6 months

Text

We're both on the sidewalk, walking opposite directions, about to pass each other.

I look at your hair, gently flowing behind as you walk. I try to turn my gaze away, desperate to not seem like I'm staring, but it's too late. You've already noticed, and as you look me over you spot the lesbian flag pin on my purse. You smile to yourself and slow your pace so our pass takes longer. "I like your pin." you say with a hint of playfulness, pointing to my purse. I follow your finger to the flag and blush "Oh, uh, th-thanks. I like your hair." I stutter, face glowing red. You offer a cheeky smile as we walk by, and I turn my gaze to the sidewalk to hide my rosy cheeks.

The next day, we're at the same place again walking opposite directions. We offer another round of simple greetings and compliments. "Good morning!" "It's a cold one today." "Nice shirt, love that band." "New shoes?" This proceeds every day until the seventh. This time, you come to a full stop. "So, where are you headed?" you ask, taking a couple of steps backwards to stay next to me as I slow my pace and look up, meeting your eyes. They shine with sincerity. "Oh, uh, just getting coffee. There's a little cafe just up the road." Taking the unspoken invitation, you turn on your heel and begin to walk with me. "Yeah? Let me guess, Rose's Garden?" "Uh-huh. The one with the cat." "Mind if I tag along?" My brain bursts into flame as my face erupts a beautiful shade of red. I pull my scarf up nonchalantly to try and cover up. "S-sure." We walk in silence for a couple of steps before you grow bored of it. "So. You go to school here?" "N-no. My friend does and they needed a roommate, so I moved in with them. What about you?" "Yeah. Not quite sure what I want though. Just taking gen-ed for a year or two while I figure it out. I think I want to do something with biology maybe." "Heheh, I'm sure you'll....figure it out." My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised you haven't commented on the noise.

We arrive at the coffee shop and order our drinks. We take a table by the window and talk for twenty minutes or so between sips. We talk about our interests, make jokes, and slowly realize we have a lot in common. This becomes our new daily routine. We walk to the cafe, get coffee, and chat for a while, every day. At some point, we trade phone numbers and begin texting during our free time. Every time I see that little (1) pop up on my phone, the flame of passion ignites; I've just gotten a bit more used to it. After a couple of weeks, we start hanging out. You come to my apartment and I introduce you to my roommate, the next week I come to your house and meet your cat. At some point, we start going out. We never say the word date, but you don't go to roller rinks, mini-golf, cinema, attend weddings, and go to fancy dinners if you're just friends. At least, not this frequently, right?

A year or so later, we're lying on our backs on a grassy hill. The ground is chilled from the autumn air, but that doesn't dissuade us. Our laughter dies down from the last joke you told as we stare at the clouds. I point one out that looks like a giraffe, your favorite animal. I turn my head to see if you're looking. And you are, but not at the cloud, you're looking at me. That same sparkle in your eyes and joy in your smile. "I love you." you say quietly. We've both said it before, plenty of times. But always as friends, purely platonic. This time, it's different. Something about those three words feels different. You mean it. "I-" my throat goes dry, the flame in my brain erupts into an inferno and my arm goes limp, dropping into the grass. The edges of my vision fade away as I stare into your eyes. My face grows redder than it ever has before, only this time I don't try to hide it. "I love you too." You reach an arm behind my head and I reach behind your back as we pull each other close. Time loses all meaning as our lips meet and we kiss for the first time. The singular moment feels like it lasted an eternity, yet it wasn't nearly long enough. You pull away, leaving our lipsticks smeared and mixed.

The next year goes by fairly slowly, not too different from the first. Only now, we're not just friends, we're partners. You're my girlfriend, and I'm yours. The passion and excitement still hasn't died down. Years go by, you graduate college and get a job. I go back to school and get my degree. We have two kids and we watch as they grow up and go through school and find themselves partners, just as we found each other. Decades later, one of us dies, leaving the other alone. Which one is which? It doesn't really matter. By this point, our selves are so ingrained into each other that we're incomplete, merely two parts of a whole, but one part is missing. It isn't long before the other passes, and we rejoin in eternity, a loving embrace that lasts forever.

Then, I blink. We're back on the sidewalk that first day and I'm staring at your hair. You notice, then look at my purse. You open your mouth as if to say something, but decide against it.

We pass each other in silence.

#lgbtqia #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #pride #queer #lesbian yearning #sapphic yearning #wlw yearning

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vidavalor · 16 days

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So I was re-reading the Fish meta just now trying to figure out where taramasalata would go in all that, when the thought occurred -- I don't know if there are many sushi restaurants in the South Downs, so A. and/or C. might get into doing home-made stuff (e.g. from 'Sushi For Dummies or smth); do you think Ineffable Husbands speak would make a distinction between restaurant vs home-made sushi?

Hi, love! Your Asks always make me hungry lol. 💕 What I think your ask has to do with bacon, Hamlet, coffee, the "fomenting" of 597 AD, The British Museum Cafe, the kimchi that Brenda so desperately needed to bitch about to Her Ron in S1, and a hidden language joke related to Crowley's 1941 hat under the cut. (Sorry this one took a minute-- your Ask got my brain percolating a bit. 😊)

One of the reasons why I think it's sushi that Crowley & Aziraphale chose to go out for on their sneaky dinners circa 2008 is that sushi is predominantly made up of fish (usually raw but not always) wrapped up in fermented rice. I'm not an expert in the history of sushi but one thing I have learned about it is that it was originally invented as a way to preserve fish for longer back in ancient times when there wasn't a way to keep fish chilled. Then, it was called narezushi.

Narezushi involved salting fish after skinning and gutting it, then letting it ferment for a few months in the salt, before then removing the salt and stuffing and covering it with rice, and fermenting for even longer. Fish would be stored in rice for the better part of the year and, much of the time, the rice wouldn't actually be eaten afterwards-- just the fish. Over time, it evolved into the sushi that we know today, which is still made with a kind of fermented rice. Fermentation is the same process used to make alcohol and several different kinds of bread-- including black bread and sourdough, the two Crowley and Aziraphale are coded as being.

In bread, the yeast in the fermenting process is what causes the dough to rise and in alcohol, it's the ethanol fermentation that turns the sugars in the fruit or grain into alcohol. We know that bread, fish, and alcohol are all common sex euphemisms in different ways in their speak so what's with the focus on fermentation?

I think it's a couple of things at once. One is that fermentation is an analogy for arousal. Another is that, in talking about sushi and fish-- things like pickled herring, etc., as well that also are about preserving fish-- there's also a romantic sense to it. They've been together a long time. Food that can be made to age-- wine, cheese, pickled and preserved fish and other food, etc..-- is food that lasts a long time, if not as long as they do. It's bits of the past carrying into the present. Still another aspect to it would be a nod to delayed gratification. If a food involves fermentation and can last longer than most other food, it's analogous to aspects of things like edging that are alluded to in a half-dozen or so different scenes.

The last reason, though, could be because it reminds them of 597 AD and the brief bit of ferment/foment/frumenty wordplay confusion.

I wrote about this at one point I think already but the jokes in this scene are based around the fact that they both keep saying or thinking of words that sound like "ferment." Crowley says he's "spreading foment"-- a word that does mean spreading discord but also is used to describe oils/potions applied with warm water. Foment is bath soaks and Crowley is super uncomfortable in that suits and knows Aziraphale is too so he's all let's quit and go take a bath.

Aziraphale gets that Crowley is wordplay-flirting with him (showing up and posing with "and you have found your [little] death" made that a bit clear) but he is confused by what the hell foment is because they usually flirt in food terms. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is going for a food euphemism-- "is that some kind of porridge?"-- because there was a new porridge called frumenty that had come up around the same time and that sounds like a word that Aziraphale could see Crowley using-- it's food, it's phonetically linked to fruit, even!-- but Crowley clarifies that, no, he was using foment. What is extra-confusing is that both words link to ferment and the process of fermentation, which is already a thing for them.

Crowley makes his meaning more clear and they figure out what each other is saying but it's a fun scene because Aziraphale just assuming that Crowley was trying to food-flirt with him then makes this one of the scenes in the series that make it more obvious that they are, in fact, doing just that. (Otherwise, you have to think that Aziraphale thought Crowley got dressed in a knight's outfit and schlepped around a damp woods spreading actual porridge and why on Earth would Aziraphale think that was an actual answer to what Crowley was up to? lol)

Later scenes suggest that it's in 597 AD as a result of the ferment/foment/frumenty conversation that Crowley and Aziraphale experimented and figured out the truth about their ability to do miracles and this is suggested in a few places, like we looked at in other metas, as to be how they figured out they could have all the sex without killing each other. That... seems like it would place fermentation in a pretty revered position in Ineffable Husbands Speak lol so whether they're getting sushi from a restaurant or making it at home, fish with a history related to fermentation seems like it would be top of the list for sexy dinner night.

One of the other jokes about fermented food in the series is about one of the most famous examples of it-- kimchi-- and it's the one in the scene where Aziraphale possesses Madame Tracy during one of her "psychic sessions." Crowley and Aziraphale refer to possession in highly-sexualized terms, to the point that when Aziraphale appeared to Crowley after being discorporated and they started talking about Aziraphale needing to possess someone to get back to Earth, the "receptive body", etc. innuendo is just blatant and not at all coded.

Brenda chose to take the time Aziraphale gave her to speak to her husband to go on to Ron about how scandalized she was to be served Korean food at the wedding she recently attended and it's when she starts to talk about "the kimchi" being brought out, that is when Ron finally flips out and loses it at her from beyond the grave, right? Poor Ron never got any fermentation in life and he's not about to keep being tormented in death. 😂 Not exactly an example of true passion, Brenda and Her Ron were...

After the whole interlude is over, we hear King of All Fermenting Aziraphale pause and then dryly remark: "Wasn't that touching?" Hilarious in its own right and a comment that Crowley would have found even funnier, since neither touching sentiment nor physical touching seemed to be very prevalent in the sad marriage of Brenda and Ron. They could have done with eating a bit more kimchi.

I do think Crowley & Aziraphale would differentiate between homemade and restaurant sushi, if only for the fun with messing with the words-- because I think they subtly actually already are from some other scenes in the series.

We heard in S2 that one of their alternate rendezvous spots is The British Museum Cafe, which is pretty hilarious from an euphemistic standpoint. They had to pick a place that they could be said to have just been in at the same time should they get caught and also museums are the indoor versions of public parks in spycraft stories but we've also seen them use restaurant/cafe/place that provides food euphemistically for a lover. The two of them meeting each other in secret in the cafe of The British Museum when they are literally older than dirt is just very funny. What kind of cafes are they to each other? The kind related to the stuff that's been here forever-- the ones that provide coffee and lunch and snacks amongst all the fossils and ancient art.

Cafe and restaurant-- like rendezvous-- are also obviously French loaner words in English; they are French words that have been absorbed into common use in English. When you say them in a sentence, you are, technically, speaking two languages at once. There is a technical name for that and it's related to something that lives in plain sight in the bookshop so we'll come back to that in a second...

Cafe is also obviously the French word for coffee. Coffee, in GO, seems to live at the symbolic intersection of sex and America. (A very complicated intersection lol.) There are other posts around these parts about coffee and its role in the American Revolution and all the American symbolism in Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death in S2. Coffee as a beverage in the whole food-and-drink thing, though, is a drink produced by grinding together coffee beans, which are actually seeds, which really feels like another meta at this point so getting to that Seeds of Destruction post soon...

Crowley and Aziraphale are actually also drinking coffee after wine at The Ritz in S1 and Crowley is being pouty about Aziraphale having put him on half-rations of late while in his angel feelings and not talking to him about those feelings as much as Crowley would like when he tells Nina this is what he wants to drink:

Share them frozen peas, Aziraphale... Anyway, if that's restaurants and cafes, then do they also already have a concept of home? I think they do and we can see it in some of the words they're using.

The word home itself has a rather interesting history, especially from a GO-related perspective. It's related to the root words of ham and hem (food/seamstressing.) You can see some of that linguistic history still remaining to this day in what we call a little human settlement that isn't quite as big as a full-on town-- a hamlet.

Yes, really lol. Of all the plays for them to have attended, eh? Yet another reason for it having been Hamlet, in addition to the content of the play itself. (My favorite being that Burbage is mixed in louder around them at The pangs of despised love/the law's delay/the insolence of office and the spurns... Yep.) Whickber Street could also be described as a hamlet within London Soho and Aziraphale is largely responsible for having developed it. But what about the bookshop itself? Is it a home for both of them within the hamlet?

You've undoubtedly heard the idiom "home is where you hang your hat" and we've seen in several scenes that the in-universe explanation for Terry Pratchett's hat hanging on Aziraphale's hatstand in the bookshop is that it's Crowley's hat from 1941. This isn't just a visual, literal execution of that idiom but also a different joke related to the hatstand, not the hat, and wordplay.

One, old-time-y word for a coat rack/hat stand like Aziraphale has in the bookshop is a portmanteau. This word means a half-dozen different things, including also a large, old-fashioned trunk that would have been used as a suitcase. While these are literal things-- physical objects-- the word portmanteau also has meanings when it comes to languages.

In linguistics, the word portmanteau can be used to refer to two different kinds of language things, both of which involve words that are blended together.

When we use words from more than one language in a sentence together, the sentence could be defined as a portmanteau. Most of us make these kinds of sentences without consciously intending to do so and fairly often-- especially with relation to food. Like the use of the words restaurant and cafe in sentences spoken in English that we mentioned above.

Aziraphale is actually making a pun about portmanteaus in S2 when he uses jardiniere in his French sentence because the word jardiniere exists in French but is also a loaner word in English, where it has come to mean a garden box/flower planter. It's French that was adopted into English, which altered its meaning a bit, and then Aziraphale puts it back into the sentence he's speaking-- which is all otherwise in French-- but using its English-language-derived meaning to form the innuendo. He's made a portmanteau in the process.

This isn't the only linguistic meaning of portmanteau, though. The other is actually the even more commonly used one and it's a word that is created out of mashing up two or more words together. One example is popsicle (pop, as in soda pop + icicle = popsicle) which is the American word for one of the desserts they buy during the body swap scene in the park. Another relevant to Crowley and Aziraphale is breakfast (break + fast, the meal they're getting-- no matter the time of day lol-- when it's been a minute since they were together but which, ironically, it doesn't seem they actually have a lot when it comes to literal food itself, since there's suggestion that they're not usually together in the mornings.)

A portmanteau-the-hat-stand is also an umbrella stand... The S2 posters with the umbrellas... Frou frou cocktails with little umbrellas... All of these things-- hats, umbrellas, wings, etc..-- provide the same function as another word we've heard recently:

They're all canopies... and so is the bookshop, really, as it's a form of shelter that keeps them safe and under the roof of which they've probably had their share of vavoomy kisses... The portmanteau where Crowley hangs his hat in the bookshop-- a place full of words in books and wordplay with his partner-- is a physical representation of wordplay that relates to the word used to describe different words and languages blended together, like how they're trying to do together as best as they can through the bonkers circumstances we've seen them in.

But we're not quite done with a concept of home yet because let's go back to ham for a minute... So, we talk about fish a lot in these here parts but not so much about jokes related to meat and since ham is now home, let's get into the meat and potatoes of it. (*groan* I know... that one was beneath me lol.)

In S2, meat became a whole damn thing after we had the ox ribs scene, right? The first food Aziraphale ever ate was (a lot of) meat, which feels right and just for the self-proclaimed The Southern Pansy... but meat had been lingering around in the wordplay already for a bit-- including in God's intro to Crowley & Aziraphale in S1.

The word meat is, of course, a homophone for the word meet.

Just as God uses "quarter" twice in her opening monologue in 1.01 and encourages us to look at multiple meanings of words in doing so, She uses "meeting" twice in her intro to the St. James' Park scene that serves as a paragraph of language lessons in Ineffable Husbands Speak. The word is used in the first and last sentences and with relation to the multiple meanings of clandestine meetings that are happening on and under the surface-- secret agents, secret lovers, and secret language within the world of both of those.

While there's the secret agent comparison happening, there's also the other connotation of a secret meeting and God encourages us to bring in historical context to what's happening on the surface by saying that St. James' Park "is and always has been" the best place in London for a clandestine meeting. It doesn't take more than a brief Google search to learn that St. James' Park was originally one of the most notorious hookup parks of history-- making it then already amusing in S1 when God then finishes her intro by saying that Crowley and Aziraphale "have been meeting here" in St. James' Park "for quite some time." After S2, though, this is even funnier.

Meeting here, did you say, God?

Probably also worth mentioning that another way to have said that sentence is "Crowley and Aziraphale have been coming here for quite some time" since you go to a meeting and... yeah lol.

Or, in S2, when Aziraphale flirts with Crowley during the party they're having in their home by telling him that he was hosting a business meeting and then holds out a tray of vol-au-vents in a knowing imitation of how Crowley once did with the ox ribs.

As we all know, ham is meat that comes from a pig. When you crisp that meat up, it's called something else-- bacon. The word bacon comes from the same root words as that of the word back-- a word with two meanings that cross together when it comes to a sense of home made with a romantic partner.

We have bacon coming from the word back as a noun-- referring to a part of the body-- but the word back is also a verb that refers to returning to a place. This is referred to more frequently as coming back and now we've, well, come back to wordplay around the verb to come... not unexpectedly lol. Your home is the place where you hang your hat and to which you keep returning.

Crowley leaves the house during the 2.01 argument and then returns and dramatically announces: "I'm back."

The bacon has come back home, should Aziraphale wish for any makeup meating at any time. Glasses off and everything.

Aziraphale drolly replies: "Yes. I can see that."

"I can (container, often for food) see (homophone: sea) that (contains hat)." Welcome home, dear. Guess who will be doing a dance?

Remember Muriel in the tie-in notes describing Crowley as "grumpy + nice" and musing that this new word could be called "grice"?

As we looked at in another meta, the word already exists and a grice is a pig. And Harmony describing Crowley as "a swine" in 1941? It's from pigs that we get ham (home) and bacon (coming back, returning to that home) and Crowley and Aziraphale keep being tied to pigs... which is a word that can also be used to refer to those with a dirty sense of humor.

Furthering that, there is the other, non-pig definition of grice, which refers to being someone who is very enthusiastic about trains.

Within grice though is also, of course, the word rice...

...and ice, which replaced fermentation in fish preservation...

...and, so, back at the sushi we arrive. 🐠

Meta the Ask references for anyone who is wondering what we're on about regarding fish:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

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studentbyday · 7 months

Text

i keep thinking today is saturday but it's friday. i want nothing more than to chill. but i really really really need to get back on track, so here i am pretending i'm studying at a cozy café when i'm actually just at my desk, feeling confused and utterly disorganized with all the info i have to shove into my brain 🙃 it's not that i hate or don't find what i'm learning interesting. i would really really really enjoy it if i could read about them and revise them at a leisurely pace. unfortunately that's not the case and nnnngggggghhhhhh sometimes i just feel like giving up but i would feel really terrible about it if i didn't at least try. i also updated my picker wheel so i'll be forced to do the maintenance things i've been putting off during my pomodoro breaks.

learning:

18 mol bio slides ✅ (i was supposed to finish all 30 left for this section but whenever i focus for >3h on a single subject i start zoning out and getting distracted...which is what happened 😵)

mol bio lecture 2/3 ✅ (there's a little bit left, but i am zoning out 😵‍💫)

finish psyc ch 2 of 4 ✅ (lately they just keep repeating info we've covered b4 with a few more details 🤷🏻‍♀️ i'm not complaining but i can't wait for them to cover new stuffff)

finish biochem section 4 ✅

biochem discussion posts ✅ (i completely forgot they were due today until 2h before the deadline 🙈😵🙈😵🙈😵 luckily, they're short assignments 🙈🙈🙈)

self-care:

physio exercises x5 ✅

meditate ✅ (i did it on my own! for 10 minutes! it took a little bit to get my mind to quiet but eventually i was able to bring my attention back to my breathing/other physical sensations like the temperature with greater ease; feelings noticed: guilt -> anxiety bc i had not gotten started on my morning routine and studying right away)

bike ✅

laundry ✅

fresh air + look far ✅

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mikavlcs · 1 year

Note

ok I got so late here I swear I got so caught up I'M SO SORRY. Also I read your last Wens piece! I ADORED IT TOO QWJEJWQ AND THE WHOLE CRITICISM PART ABOUT THE POEM? JDJQWJEQJWE I burst out laughing like a fucking idiot and ended up almost throwing my computer to the floor don't ask how. I've been a bit busy but I'll comment and fill your notif thingy with 9219292 notifs soon!

This is to the mf spamming your ask box cause I get lost a few days and when I come back these bitches just-

Listen to me you little motherfucker. You spam again mika's ask thingy trying to be rude or say anything that can be relatively, just slightly offensive or harmful, and I'll locate your little annoying ass all the way to the hellhole you're from, open your chest with my bare hands and use your ribs to carve your insides. And once I'm done, I'll open up that thick, little skull of yours, take your brains out and use them to make a written apology for Mika on your name before I dissolve your body with hydrochloric acid and burn your clothes and stuff. You wanna know something funny? It would only take me a week, at most. With that, there wouldn't be even bones left thanks to the acid. Not a single piece of your little annoying ass left to recognise. We clear bud? we cleAR? because I can be more spECIFIC AND GRAPHIC YOU LITTLE-

(don't take me seriously. not too much at least-)

JQWEJQWJE just kidding. I would never do that. Or would I now? MUAAHAHHAHA

Out of jokes, there's no need to be rude, man. You never have to intend any kind of harm of offense to anyone, especially someone in the internet who hasn't bothered you at all. The worst thing is that you don't even have the face to send the asks personally, you just go full anon, like the little coward you are. Hope whoever you are you stop bothering Mika, put it together and go do something productive instead of wasting your time trying to be an ass, pal.

Btw, howdy! how are things going home? are your electronics still out of danger? I hope they are! c'mon c'mon I feel like I've been away from tumblr for tons of time now, tell me tell me something. Has anything interesting happened in your week? have you eaten something today? what did you have? how was it? how's your writer's block?

PS: the threat above goes for anyone who bothers you aRE WE CLEAR ?????👹👹👹👹👹

(I'm so sorry that meme was just there and JDJQEJQWJEQJEJ I JUST COULDN'T STOP MYSELF FROM DOING IT SORRY)

the way i read this while you’re spamming my notifs 😭🤚 also you threw your laptop on the floor??? lmfao??

SKDHDKEDJDK NOT THE HYDROCHLORIC ACID 😭😭 that’s such a specific and crazy threat…laughing so hard rn (also that whole paragraph had real ghostface tara energy) but thank you<33 they have still not returned so it’s chill 👍

and yes my stuff is still out of danger! nothing explicitly interesting has happened, i’ve mostly been studying for finals next week 💔💔 and i had cereal today, it was good<33 i hope you’re doing good as well despite being busy!

#the way you’re fr one of my favorite tumblr users #i’m also still hoarding that meme ask you sent me LMAOSJSJ #ily fr fr #<333

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dees-writing-corner · 1 year

Text

forever and more - chapter 3

word count: 2367

pairing: ateez x fem!reader

warning: may be ever so slightly gory? I'm not sure

if anyone wants to join the taglist just message <3

a/n feedback is always welcome here, and please do send in whatever theories you have, I'd love to hear them!! especially because we've got a lot of hints this chapter👀👀

also, very grateful for my lovely beta reader @layzfeelit <3

masterlist

Having had little to no progress going through the journals and letters alone over the past week, the boys and I thought that it would be best to bring the boxes into my room and go through them together.

Aimlessly going through the stack of papers, I sat up on my bed, reaching my arms up to stretch for a bit.

Glancing over at Mingi and San who were lying beside me, "You guys find anything?"

Seeing them both shake their heads no; I stood up with a small groan, "I'm gonna head down and make myself a cup of coffee, you two want anything?"

San looked up from the letter he was reading, "Umm, a bottle of coke?"

Nodding, I looked over to Mingi.

"Coke as well, thank you~"

Mingi blew me a kiss as I walked out, throwing my head back as I laughed at his antics.

San and Mingi listened as my footsteps gradually got lighter until they could no longer hear them.

"Okay, I lied, I found something." Mingi swiftly turned the journal to the page he was reading. "Here, look."

San leaned in closer as he read between the pages.

We went into the cave by the lake today because a great number of disappearances have occurred there. Father thought that it would be best to send me and the hunter's son, Aaron, to investigate. He said that it was time to test our abilities.

When we entered the cave, a horrible stench hit us. The further we walked, the stronger the smell was and once we reached the back of the cave, we found the reason. Human remains were flung around, some of them were limbs torn off the body, others were just clean bone.

As we made our way closer, we felt a sudden chill. The creature was close.

Aaron swung the flaming torch in the air, trying to spot the creature. There it was at the back, in the corner. It stood tall, arms out in front, its claws catching the light of the flame.

Slowly, I reached a hand to my waist, searching for my dagger. I knew this creature; father always told me stories of it.

A wendigo is what they called it. They were once humans who were possessed by a malevolent spirit, turning them into flesh eating creatures. There was no return for those possessed.

To kill them, one needed a silver weapon and for extra measure, the body needed to be burnt.

And that's exactly what we did.

"This is the Hunters Journal. Well, one of them, anyway." San turned to Mingi, a question forming in his head. "Should we show her this?"

Mingi quickly shook his head, "No. Not until we find the letter Jenna left for her. Showing her this will only confuse her even more."

San nodded before showing Mingi the letter he was reading.

Mingi quickly scanned the paper, eyes widening slightly as he got towards the end.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. We’ll show her this along with the journal after she finds the letter and wraps her brain around everything."

Mingi nodded along, "Yeah, okay, keep them in your room, yeah? Y/N is less likely to go into your room because of how messy it is, so -"

"What's that supposed to mean, my room is perfectly tidy!"

Mingi raised a brow, "Oh, yeah? Sure, it is..."

San pushed the letters and journals scattered across the bed to the side and sat up, tackling Mingi onto his back.

"Come here, you little brat."

Humming, I rummaged through one of the bottom cupboards for one of my mugs. Wooyoung was 'cleaning up' the kitchen cupboards the other day and since then, I have not been able to find anything.

"Umm, what are you doing?"

Startled, I groaned as I hit my head on a shelf.

Sitting on the floor, I cradled the back of my head as I glared up at the intruder.

"Do you find pleasure in seeing me in pain or something? Last time I tripped over the carpet."

"Sorry, I – ha –"

Rolling my eyes, I watched as Yunho and Wooyoung laughed at my misery.

Seeing me get up from the floor, Wooyoung wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye, "God, you haven't changed at all."

Not hearing what Wooyoung had said, I went through another cupboard, "Where have you put my mugs? I can't find any of them."

"In the cupboard to your left, princess, they're all in there."

Pausing, I slowly turned around. Wooyoung looked from me to Yunho, who had also opted to stare at him, and raised a brow.

"What?"

Taking out one of the mugs, "Princess? Really?"

"What? You're literally one. There's nothing that can make me change my mind on that."

Yunho elbowed Wooyoung before turning to me, ignoring Wooyoung's dramatic self as he crumpled to the floor, howling in pain.

"Ignore him, we were wrestling around earlier. He may have hit his head a bit too hard."

Laughing at them, I turned back around to start the espresso machine as the two started to bicker.

Over the last week, I've started to get to know the boys and I must say, they are indeed boys. Sometimes, it's like living with toddlers with how much they bickered and fought, and while they were still a bit odd, they were much more relaxed around us. Apart from Jongho. He was still as distant as possible without seeming rude.

Pouring the milk over the espresso, I turned back to the boys.

"Do you two know where Yeosang is? I haven't seen him in a couple of days."

The question seemed to have caught them off guard because they stilled for a second before stuttering out answers.

"What's going on with you two?"

Seonghwa entered the kitchen from the garden, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped beside me.

"I was just wondering where Yeosang is."

Seonghwa raised a brow at the question, "He's delivering something to one of your aunt's friends. Should be back before dinner."

"Okay?"

I was confused to no end right now but decided not to question anything.

Grabbing two bottles of coke from the fridge, "I'm heading back up, we've still got some things to do."

As I made my way back to the bedroom, I couldn't help but feel like someone was watching me, yet every time I glanced around, there was no one there.

"I've got the drinks -"

Pausing mid-sentence, I watched as San and Mingi lay out of breath on the floor.

"And what have you two been up to?"

Kicking the door shut, I put the drinks down on the bedside table before looking down at the two.

"Nothing. Mingi said my room was messy."

Mingi propped himself up and looked at San, "What? Is it not messy? I'm pretty sure half of your wardrobe was on the floor this morning."

Laughing at their antics, I sat down at the edge of the bed, “And what? That turned into a wrestling match on my bedroom floor?”

San and Mingi got up from their positions and joined me on the bed, taking their cokes from the bedside table.

“So,” San laid down on his back. “What took you so long to come back up?”

Taking the sip from my coffee, “I was just asking where Yeosang was. I haven't seen him in the last few days, and apparently, he's bringing something to one of Aunt Jenna's friends.”

San raised his brow as he tilted his head to the side, “Your aunts' friend? I would have thought they stopped delivering things if you're aunt passed away.”

Shrugging, I shook my head, “I don't know, they must have arranged something before she passed. Anyways, have you found anything yet?”

Both San and Mingi shook their heads.

Groaning, I closed my eyes, “Ugh, why don't we take a break for now? We've been looking through these boxes all day."

Looking around, I was confused as to where I was. Everything was white and looked like there was no end to anything.

Squinting my eyes, I saw a small figure in the distance, and as I got closer to it, I recognised who it was.

"Aunt Jenna?"

Stopping near her, I couldn't help but notice how majestic she looked. She wore a long, flowy white dress that stopped just above her ankles and her brown hair fell down in waves framing her face perfectly.

"Hello." Aunt Jenna smiled as she took a few steps closer, "It's great to see you again, darling."

Blinking, I looked around, confused at the whole situation, "I – what – but you're -"

"Dead. Yes." She guided me forward, where a bench seemed to have magically appeared, and sat me down. "I wanted to talk to you about a few things, and while you may not remember much if any when you wake up, some things will be able to trigger the memory."

Nodding silently, I waited for her to carry on.

"First, would be the boys around the house. I know they may seem a bit weird to you right now, but I promise that they mean well and that they will be very useful in the future. Especially Jongho, he's just a giant teddy bear once you get to know him."

Raising an eyebrow, I had a bit of a hard time believing that and Aunt Jenna just laugh at the disbelief I was showing.

"Trust me. He really is. Now, I know that you're curious about that wooden box on the living room mantle, and I want you to be. So even though you won't remember any of this, you'll still open it. I'm not going to tell you now, what's inside, but just know that it's very important."

"Okay."

Aunt Jenna looked up before smiling at me, "Our time is running out. The last thing that I want to say is that not everyone beside you is who they say they are. They won't hurt you, but they also aren't telling you everything and when you do find out, don't be too angry at them, okay? They mean well."

"Aunt Jenna?" I looked around at the white space surrounding us, "What place is this?"

"This is your core, my dear."

Scrunching up my face in confusion, "My core? What does that mean?"

Aunt Jenna stood up from her spot on the bench, "I'm afraid you're waking up. I promise to tell you as much as I can when I see you again."

Everything around me started to fade into darkness. And the last thing I heard was Aunt Jenna talking to someone. A male.

"Are you sure she can help us, Jenna?"

"Of course she can, after all, it's written in stone, no?"

Groaning, I turned to the side to look at the clock. 19:16. It was already after dinner.

Getting out of bed, I slowly made my way to the kitchen.

"Ah, sleeping beauty is awake. How was that nap of yours?"

Waving Wooyoung away, I made a beeline for the bowl of fruit he had placed on the table for me.

Happily munching away, I looked up when someone took a seat beside me.

"I see that you're up."

Waving slightly at Yeosang, I swallowed the fruit, "Hmm, nice seeing you back. How was your little trip?"

Yeosang shrugged as he rolled his sleeves up, "Boring. How was your nap?"

Frowning, I couldn't help but think I was missing something, "Good? I think? I had a dream, but I can't remember what it was about and it's annoying me so much right now."

Finishing off the last bit of fruit, I got up to place it in the sink for Wooyoung. I've now given up on trying to wash anything because every time I do, Wooyoung just pushes me to the side and takes over stating 'this is my kitchen'.

Walking to the living room where I knew everyone was gathered, I was surprised to see the guys in some sort of heated discussion.

"Umm, am I interrupting something?"

"Y/N!" Mingi waved his arm about, "Come here! We've got a serious question for you."

Confused, I took a seat between Seonghwa and Jongho. The second I sat down, Yunho leaned forward from where he was on the armchair.

"So, we were just discussing something, and we want your opinion on it. Which ones are better? Vampires, witches or hunters?"

Blinking owlishly, "I'm sorry, what?"

I looked to Seonghwa who simply nodded, "Supernatural was on earlier and we started discussing. Wooyoung and I think witches are better, Yeosang, Yunho and Jongho think vampires are better and San and Mingi think hunters are better. And now we're just wondering what you think."

Looking at them, I could tell they were actually being serious right now, and I couldn't but chuckle.

"You guys are so weird." Clearing my throat, I contained the laughter that was threatening to bubble up my throat. "Umm, if I had to choose, then.... witches, I guess?"

Laughing, I watched as everyone groaned while Seonghwa and Wooyoung did a small victory dance in their seats.

From the corner of my eye, I could swear that Jongho was pouting slightly as he crossed his arms, so arching a brow, I turned to him.

He noticed me looking at him and leaned in closer to me whispering, "Vampires are definitely cooler."

Slightly stunned, I laughed a bit as I leaned closer to him, "They are cool, aren't they? But I must say, witches are far more intriguing to me."

We spent a majority of the night laughing as Jongho and I carried on our debate on vampires and witches. In the background, we could hear San and Wooyoung bickering, occasionally pulling Yeosang in. Mingi sat on the floor next to Yunho and at some point, Seonghwa joined them as well as they talked about whatever show it was that was on TV.

As the night grew later, we all gradually made our way upstairs, and as I walked back, my eyes caught the wooden box, making a mental note to have a look at it soon.

taglist: @marievllr-abg @jackinmyarea @lexiigom @nichobins @babyhailey819 @darkdayelixer

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stiricidewrites · 1 month

Text

The Damage You Do: ch 23, pt 6

Hey look! I finally got to the yoga part of the arc named "I don't think this is a legit yoga pose" after like... tens of thousands of words...

Anyways, I decided to keep this as the same chapter, it'll just end up being super long. Also, the next week or two of updates will be shorter, because I have yoga regrets. So. Much. Research. And trying to make sure I'm describing movements in a sensical way ._.

It has been a time.

I did my best with describing the poses and using the proper terms, but I'm not promising I didn't mess anything up!

Enjoy!

Previously

“Have you done yoga before?” his dom asked, somehow managing to grab them both mats without releasing his hand.

“Huh?” wwx asked, watching that huge hand manhandle the mats. “What? Oh, uh… a bit? I had a friend who was into it when we were teens?” nhs had been ridiculously into it, actually. Still was, as far as wwx knew. He wouldn’t be surprised if the little pimp was able to do all the fancy moves… positions? He felt like there was an actual word for them? What was it…

lwj’s hand tightened around his for a moment, drawing wwx’s eyes to their clasped hands. His were tiny, compared to his dom's. Cute and petite. They would be almost girly, if he took care of them. He didn’t. Even just a few days after his mani-pedi they were already in need of some love. Broken nails and cuticles he’d ripped off. Calluses and a weird dry spot on the top of one. He supposed that taking care of his hands was technically part of his job now. lwj obviously wouldn’t want to be groped by someone who didn’t have baby soft skin everywhere! He had the money now, so maybe he should make himself an appointment?

“So, I guess I have a little experience? I might fall over, though, just so you know.” He smiled down at his dom as the man arranged their mats. “But, I mean, if you do this often, I’m gonna suck in comparison… What were you doing, before I arrived, I mean?”

“I have a standard morning routine.”

“Oh?” wwx had never had a routine. They gave him hives—not that Wen Qing believed him when he said so. More, he just got itchy inside? Which was totally hives adjacent, if you asked him. It was like all the monotony of the routine was rotting his insides. He had a bit of a schedule now, with his kid, but he was always throwing in whatever spontaneity he could. Even then, his schedule wasn’t his, it was A-Yuan’s, and that alone was enough to calm his twitchy brain down. To make it chill and enjoy the randomness of the things he could control.

lwj hummed, listing off his routine. Get up. Weigh himself. Get dressed. Drink some sort of fancy, healthy green juice. Go for a short run. Exercise his brain—that one wwx was interested in, and the first few minutes of their exercise comprised of lwj listing off the puzzles he played every morning as they relaxed into the mat and opened up their chest… or had the other man said back? Hips? wwx had already lost track.

“I eat breakfast after that. Sometimes, I plan my day, other times I go straight into exercise. The exercise varies day to day. Today, I was doing calisthenics.”

“So—” wwx broke off in a groan as his Cat-Cowed himself, back rounding and arching as he moved. Fucking hell did that feel good. He didn’t stretch nearly enough, man. “So, in other words, I’ve completely messed up your schedule, Mr. Lan?”

The man hummed as he pushed himself gracefully up, motioning for wwx to stay down. “It is fine,” he said as he leaned over his body, positioning his arms and legs, his hands and feet, into a slightly different configuration. “Flatten your hands. Balance your weight equally between your limbs.”

“Alright,” wwx squeaked as he tried to flatten out his palms, tried to ignore lwj’s weight hovering over him. They wanted to resist, his fingers slowly dragging upwards before he had to remind them to stay on the fucking mat.

#fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #wangxian #stiricidesmobji #dark lan zhan

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cp-harper · 2 years

Text

Triggers Part 2

I can still feel my legs shaking from the orgasm. The powerful blast of semen pretty much ravaged me and left me drained. Hopefully that would mean I would be empty for the day. I push open the bathroom door and the lights of the office blind me. I give my head a shake before finding my desk. Before I'm able to sit down my phone buzzes. I pick up the receiver and hold it to my ear. "Mrs. Kelsey would like to see you." Click. The other end hung up. I can feel a chill trickle up my spine a feeling of dread coming down on me. Could it be possible that someone noticed me? Saw me got hard some how knew I went to the washroom to cum? I shake it off, or at least i try to and head towards my boss’s office. I pause before the door, honestly considering just going home but some how I win the internal battle and knock at the door. it swings open i spot Mrs. Kelsey with her hand on her door switch. She leans back up and beckons me in with one hand. I slowly wade into the room as the door closes behind me, the air suddenly feeling thick. I cross to the chair resting my hand on the back rest and taking a look at Mrs. Kelsey and oh god.......

she looked...good....really, really good. I take in a small breath silently cursing those puckered lips, the beautiful hair, her soft skin and above all I cursed that black low cut top, Why? why in gods name did she have to be wearing a low cut top? I could already feel my heart quickening, I grip onto the chair harder, closing my eyes willing away any images that might try to enter my brain. I feel my heart steadying, I slowly lower myself into the chair. I awkwardly look up, “You uh wanted to see me Mrs. Kelsey?” I mutter out. She looks at me with concern on her face. “Are you ok?” the question throws me off for a second, i clear my throat and straighten my self up. “What do you mean?”

“Well you were away from work for quite some time and when you came in today you seemed, off.”

oh no oh no, they knew oh god of course they knew, i was sporting a massive hard on when i came out of the elevator oh god.

“ha-ha yes of course they knew.” she almost fills the room. A phantom sucking me in with her silky skin and ample bosom.

“Of course they saw you, of course they know what you did, you disgusting little pervert, they know you came all over the washroom, that you have no control over that dirty cock of yours, that your just waiting, aching for the next moment to bu-”

“Hello!” Mrs. Kelsey’s yell snaps me out of my dream. I cross my legs realizing my cock wa beginig to lift my pants. “See, you seem distracted, a bit on edge.”

“I am really sorry Mrs. Kelsey; I’ve just been dealing with some personal problems I wont let it effect my work.”

“I’m not worried about your work, I am worried about you, you know i care about all my employees and if you ever need anything, even to talk you can come to me.” she leans forward over her desk and presses her hand against my arm. A jolt of energy runs up my body. oh god. I recoil from the touch, sliding back in my chair slightly. My cock still stiff held tight under my leg. “oh god I’m sorry if that came off as inappropriate i just-”

“No Mrs. Kelsey it not that its just that right now I-”

The images were flooding in, no oh god I had to stop them, not now, not right in front of her. I have to focus on something else in the room, anything. I spy a painting hanging on her wall. yes, focus on that, the beautiful colours the textures the details of her, of her hair, face, the details on her breasts......

Oh god no no, something else something not female at all. like that! two globes on her desk noting sexy at all

My brain is broken, everything is sexy everything makes me want to.......

“I just feel like I need to focus on my work right now and get back into things, it will help my mind realign itself.” I feel like my eyes wont focus, my brain wants only to cum.

“Ok if you say you’re ok, then by all means you can return to work. As a matter of fact you can take this binder with you, it has some data you need to catch up on.”

I slowly reach for the binder, taking it and bringing it down onto my lap, and carefully rise, using the binder to cover my aching cock. “Thank you” I say absent mindedly while turning to walk away. My legs are shaking with every step. I can feel my cock pulsing shocking my body as I almost stumble. Cum cum cum, the voice in my head drones, “You need it so bad” “You’re not gonna make it” “cum” “cum”

I try to will my self to just stare ahead, focus on one step in front of the other. Don’t give in to the thoughts.

I stumble and steady myself on a wall, my body almost dragging me down. “Hey are you ok?”

I stumble back shaking my head, and bump into a desk knocking a mug off of it “Wow! Watch where you’re going.”

My heart begins beating out of my chest, I was hyperventilating. “Do we need to call an ambulance?”

My body begins to shake, I was holding it in for too long. The binder falls from my hands as I tense up hitting the floor, leaving exposed my tented pants. Gasps ripple through the office. “Uh no its not what it looks like its uh uh” my eyes were watering, sweat was dripping down my face, I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus could only think about one thing, sex. What happened to me? Why was I like this? my brain screams out right before my cock explodes.

I was put on “Indefinite leave”

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