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coeurify · 1 year

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perfect girl lll | ellie williams

pairing & word count: ellie williams x fem!reader. modern college au, drug dealer ellie. part 1&2 here, read that first. wc: 11.3k

description: ellie williams and you can never seem to see eye to eye, but you always end up back at each other’s feet.

warnings & tags: 18+ . more fluffy than the others. dramatic lesbians who cant stop arguing. mean!reader, slightly less mean!ellie. slightly toxic relationship. jealousy, drinking. in depth talk of weed and smoking it. (i tried my best. may be a stoner but i cant describe it for shit) cut off sex at the start, semi public sex later, name calling (ellie calls reader a slut at one point) and rough treatment. the whole works. a slightly happy ending tho !

The sun isn’t the first warmth you feel against you when you wake. It's much heavier, hotter, unlike the lukewarm dashes of sun that come through your dorm window. This warmth breathes against your bare skin, presses down on your stomach from its spot above you.

The warmth is much more annoying than the light of the sun, and has the name Ellie, which you grumble as soon as your eyes open.

“Ellie,” your fingers move to push her haphazardly thrown arm and body off of you. You aren’t sure how you had ended up tangled together like this, but the weight of her face in your neck and her chest half over you is enough to send a sort of regret coursing through you, a deep ache in your veins. It’s too close, too much.

The other girl groans, slapping a hand out and over your mouth as if to shush you. For a moment you debate biting down on it, but that would probably be against your better judgment. Instead you move your face away and scooch to the very opposite end of the bed. You ignore the way your body involuntarily shivers at the lack of Ellie’s body heat, body turning uncomfortably.

Your eyes search around the room, stomach swooping low at the sight of all the clothes on your rug. The reminder of the night before makes your fingers run against your neck, hissing when you press down on a bite mark. You finally find what you were looking for, the small blinking numbers on your electronic clock. It was about a quarter before nine, and for once you had no place to be beside whatever Saturday party you were sure to be begged to attend later. But you had the sudden urge to get up and go.. go somewhere other than the blinding heat beside you. But no excuse was valid enough in your mind to leave the sleeping girl beside you, despite the uneven beat to your heart.

Ellie had stayed the night. You had slept naked with her, shifted around multiple times through the night to rest comfortably against her, pulled blankets from each other.. you woke up with her lips against your skin..and you weren’t sure how to handle it. It went against everything you stood for. Hiding a guest in the sorority house, letting yourself fall victim to the awful hookup culture with a piece of shit. An absolutely gorgeous piece of shit. One that you hated, but didn’t seem to be able to stick to that particular feeling all too well.

Your nose crinkles at your brain's own thoughts, embarrassed you could call Ellie gorgeous, like that was the most awful thing to admit.. You finally move to sit up, arms wrapping around your own chest to hide the flesh from certain eyes that may pop open. The skin there is slightly sticky with sweat, and you move to disappear off the bed and into your bathroom. You aren’t able to do so, a hand from the side of you pulling you straight back down onto the bed with a thump.

It’s Ellie’s hands of course, tired green eyes blinking at you as her body shifts to the side so she can watch you. The way Ellie’s pupils shift around your face and then off to the wall makes you think she may also be having a moment of anxiety at the current situation, but she seems much better at hiding it.

Neither of you however are good at real conversations that arent insults or fucking, apparently— so its a bit awkward when she says, “Good Morning.” Ellie looks almost nervous, something lingering in her eyes while she looks at you. Almost admiring you.

You can't deny that she looks pretty. Her auburn hair usually pulled half up is instead slightly tangled and all over her cheeks, messy from a night of tossing and turning around in the small college bed. You want to reach forward, push it behind her ears and watch where it falls against her jawline. You can still smell a twinge of weed and whatever cologne she uses on her, but now it's overtaken by the familiar scent of your sheets instead. Something about Ellie smelling like you makes bubbles rise in your chest— and you have to look away for a second before you start actually moving to touch her.

Your tongue swipes over the dry lips it finds, searching for your next words, “Morning. I was getting up to take a shower, you were all over me in your sleep last night.. Im sweaty,” muttering, you find comfort in the, “annoying by the way..” you add.

Ellie relaxes into the banter as well, seeming too happy to rid the room of the tension that had begun to fill the space. “Annoying? I woke up cold as fuck like three times because you stole all the blankets. And you snore.”

An offended gasp rises in your throat. “I do not snore you dick!” Reaching an arm out to shove her, you leave your chest exposed again, the air nipping at the skin. You realize this after a split second, scrambling to pull the blanket to cover you instead.

It makes Ellie snort, barely moved by the very light attack on her shoulder. “You definitely do snore..” her gaze moves to the blanket pulled up to your chin. “And I think it’s a bit too late to cover up for me now, honestly.”

The words make your stomach turn, a burning reminder of the now repeated actions that had taken place with her. She was right, having seen every inch of your body by this point, every spot usually hidden from the outside world had been drunk up by her eyes at least once. Instead of focusing on how warm that made you, your fingers reached forward to pull at the sports bra she wore, smiling when it slapped back into place and caused a surprised yelp to leave Ellie.

“Yea, pretty unfair though, I slept naked and you're all—”

“Not?” Ellie finishes, smiling lopsidedly at you. It feels oddly intimate, joking around with her like this while lounging on the sheets you both had skewed off their places on the mattress.

“Yea.. that’s why i'm all sticky and sweaty and you aren't.. dick.” you scoff, not really all that mad. Not as mad as you wished you were.

“Well..” Ellie moves to tower over you, arms on either side of your covered frame. “Since I apparently smell bad,” she mumbled— calling back to your multiple comments from the last party— “I guess I don't mind a bit of sweat,” and then she's dipping down, sniffing dramatically at your neck. “Ugh, disgusting.. you do need a shower.”

You make a face, squirming under her. “Shut up!” It’s hard to hold back the smile her ticklish breath against your throat brings, hurting your reddening cheeks at the effort.

She responds by pressing a loud and sloppy kiss on your cheek, chuckling in a way that squeezes your ribcage so tightly it feels it may snap. Her leg presses against you just enough to make something tumble around inside you.

“Stop slobbering on me,” you whine, all too loudly. The words drag out too long, the tone too breathy. You both pause, Ellie raising from her place on your cheek.

There's an invisible line you just hopped right over, spilling away from the quiet and sleepy morning and more into something you knew. The hitch in your voice that Ellie had come to know much too well sent you both nose diving out of that too intimate moment and straight back into the burning you had grown accustomed to.

This look, the one where she is much more awake— focused on your parted lips, you could deal with this. There was no awkwardness about her gaze, no hidden affection like that of when she said good morning, the one that made you want to curl away. This look you knew, this look you both knew what to do with.

Ellie let out a breath, something you couldn’t quite understand going on in her mind. Maybe something similar to your own, falling into one of the only two things you know how to feel together, want.

Her head is dipping down again, this time less jokingly and more clearly focused. Her lips press a softer kiss at your cheek this time, and then on your jaw— pausing for your reaction.

“You want me to stop this?” Ellie asks, a tad more breathy now. You suppose neither of you can really help this sort of reaction around each other. It was easier than addressing the other, softer feelings blooming.

You still hated this, the way she always makes you answer her, makes you say what you really want. Hate the way it makes you all dizzy, makes your thighs squeeze a bit tighter. You’re too tired still to put up a fight now though, giving into her much easier. You won't admit that it was becoming harder to deny her, that that absolute anger you used to find from the way she made you feel was slipping steadily away with each new kiss.

“No, keep going,” you sigh out, hand finding her hair, playing gently with the locks that only reach the middle of her neck. When she shivers from the fingers against her scalp, you smile.

Ellie is also smiling, though for a different reason. That being your immediate answer to her question. “It’s really easy to seduce you, ya know?” she jokes against your skin, biting at the flesh near your collarbone.

“Are you calling me easy?” you accuse, a pout building on your lips. God, you wanted to smack yourself, smack away the dripping feeling down your throat of affection that comes from her teases. Like syrupy sugar in your mouth that you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to feel angry again, wanted this to go faster.. rougher. But neither of you had that in yourselves right now, and neither of you really wanted it. Even if you tried to convince yourself.

“Only for me of course, princess..” Ellie continues, thumb pressing over the still sore marks on your neck. When you whimper, it makes her push harder, drawing another sharp whine out.

“You look so pretty with these,” she compliments, bubbling up that odd mixture of push and pull you felt from the all too sweet tone. It's creating something awful inside you. A swarm too violent to be butterflies in your belly. No, these were wasps, evil and mean.. ruining every bit of your insides. You can't get them out, unable to cough out the stinging that each soft touch from ellie inacts.

You only hum in reply, nails still playing in her hair as she peels the blanket off of your body to kiss lower. The air, though warm, makes you shiver. Maybe just from the pure exposure of it, goosebumps pricking at your skin.

“Been dying to taste you ever since the party, can I?” Ellie’s words are slightly quieter due to her lips on the swell of your breasts, and then they wrap around your nipple. your hips shoot straight up from the feel, eyes squeezing shut to welcome in the blackened vision. Heat erupts out of you with the next tug of her lips, burning your skin from top to bottom, numbing your mind with such a simple touch. Her eyes flick up, teeth scraping against the now hard nub.

You nod quickly, “yea- please, el..”

Maybe it should be a bit shameful that you spread your legs so quickly at the words, that while she works on your nipples you are dripping onto the bedsheets under you, something you would have been starkly against if it was anyone else.

The only noises as she continues her trail of kisses down your stomach are your own needy breaths and the slight blow of the air against the trees outside. You can hear the creak of floorboards to your left, all the other girls in the house sure to stir awake soon. The realization almost pushes you straight up, an all too real reminder of your current predicament. Your heart stutters, breath pauses, and even if Ellie can blame it on her lips, you can’t. Shooing the shame away you instead focus on how she’s nearing your thighs, her hands pressing your them open.

“Already wet,” Ellie chides, burning your face as your eyes make friends with the ceiling. You watch the slight texture of the white surface as if it can stop the embarrassment that pools in you.

Her lips find a new mission of a place to mark up, the target being your thighs. The sensitive skin is bitten into, and you clamp a manicured hand over your mouth. Squirming on the bed you breathe into your own palm, eyelashes fluttering against a finger. The smallest of touches from Ellie got you worked up, so her lips so close to where you needed her.. it ruined you. Your clammy palm stops the noises, muffled and quiet. Your hips buck needily, making her head move with it.

“Calm down baby, barely gotten started..” her voice is rougher now, and you can hear her swallow as she takes in your weeping center. Finally pulling your gaze away from the ceiling to instead look down at her, you are met with a very flushed Ellie, lips puffy from their previous assault on your thighs. It’s enough for you to feel faint, eyes blurring at how much it turned you on.

“Ellie..” you whisper, words harsh, “stop teasing.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, tsking at the attitude. “Cant enjoy my girl?”

My girl, My girl, My girl. it repeats in your head over and over, squeezing your nerves around its twisted little syllables, tilting your vision. Two simple words, ones you don’t think Ellie thought even twice about, something she probably says to every girl she's been with.. they send you completely off kilter. You can’t tell if you feel nauseous because you don’t like it, don't like her acting like she was anything to you.. or if the queasiness and watering in your mouth comes from the need to hear her say it again.

But you aren’t. You aren’t her girl, and you don't want to be.

With the first lick of her tongue on your folds, your mind falls back down into the moment. No longer able to focus on the swirl of panicked thoughts in your mind. Your fingers tug her hair harshly, legs wrapping around her as she licks deeper. You let yourself ignore the words she so casually just said, and instead focus on her between your legs.

But as your toes curl, mouth falling opening.. the other shoe drops. A loud knock at your door startles you, enough for you to immediately shove Ellie’s face away, palm pressing harshly at her face as you kick away. It was a bit aggressive, and she pops up from your thighs groaning and pressing a hand to her now red forehead. Her lips are glassy with spit and your slick as she turns to look at the door. It makes your breath stutter.

“Hey, some of us are gonna go out for some brunch to talk, wanna come?” The shrill voice of your sorority sister Ali passes through the wood door, followed by a smiley sounding Dina, “and pleaseee come to the party tonight!”

Ellie watches you carefully, studying the way the color has drained from your face. How your ribs move up and down with hard breaths, how you pull your knees up to your chest to put space between the two of you. Ellie is literally witnessing you completely close back off as a blanket wraps around your frame, acting as a shield from her. The wasps finally are spilling out of your mouth with a jumble of words, “Yea, i'm not busy. Give me like twenty minutes ok?”

You won't even look at Ellie as you stand, shaking like a damn leaf as you kick around the clothes on the rug in a fit, moving after to the dresser. Quickly underwear is tugged over your hips, followed by a shirt.. and a skirt, all in complete silence.

Ellie has not moved an inch, looking on as you run around like a scared mouse about to be caught by a housecat, eyes wide and beady as you make sure your door is locked. She only is made to move when you throw her sweatshirt at her.

“You have to- you have to leave, sneak out.”

The words hang in the air, finally meeting her eyes. For a moment she seems frozen, mulling over the words you said, taking in the way her hair had blown back when you tossed her shirt to her. The moment dies, her face morphing into one of disbelief.

“Sneak out?” Ellie repeats, sounding literally dumbfounded.

“No one can see I have someone in here for a hookup,” the word burns your tongue, “especially not you.”

As soon as you say it, you feel the difference. The air in the room has gone cold, wasps now free from your stomach stinging harshly at both of you, though they flocked to Ellie more with every avoiding language you used.

“You’re unbelievable, really.” Ellie scoffs, sweatshirt pulling over her head. Her voice is low, completely emotionless in a way that makes you feel a little sick again. That light had switched off inside of her too, and you both watched on as the other stiffened, painting over the dreamy-ness of the morning instead with that known anger you feel in regards to each other. The one you had for months, bubbling right back up.

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes, moving to pull on flats, distracting the trembling of your body.

“I spent the night in your bed, I was just in between your thighs..” Ellie stands up, moving across the room as her voice raises, causing you to shush her quickly, eyes widening. As if this was the worst of your problems right now.

“Those are my marks on you. And you’re gonna kick me out and act like nothing happened, again?” Ellie accuses, shaking her head. “You know, for a second I thought- ” Ellie blinks, stumbling over her words.

You pause. Thought what? Thought you felt something? Thought last night changed you two? If Ellie had guessed any of those it would have been a bullseye, an arrow straight into your thumping heart. But never would you admit it.

“Fuck It doesn’t even matter. You are still the same stuck up bitch you’ve always been. I'm over it,” Ellie grumbles, adding another gut punch with the use of your name following it.

“Why are you being a dick Ellie? Its the fucking rules of the sorority.” You shake your head incredulously, motioning to her like she’s acting crazy. Like she has no right to be embarrassed by the fact you were shoving her out like some mistake again, after the fight that happened about the same thing last night. Here you are again, pushing her back and speaking with venom laced in your tone. Acting like that bitch you always were at parties, arms stiff against your chest.

“We both know that's not the reason,” Ellie goes again reading your mind, calling you out on every thorn coated excuse you spit.

“Stop being so dramatic and get out,” you hiss, no longer able to press any sensibility into your actions, too taken over by the feeling you use everyday to shield yourself, anger, avoidance, harshness.

“Okay, fine, no more.” Ellie says suddenly.

Your lips part to ask what she meant, but it's no use, she beats you to it.

“I'm not gonna get played like some toy for you again, the hook-ups,” she spits the word, “are done, i’m not fucking with you again. Not entertaining your game anymore.” The words shove you straight into a bucket of cold water, drenching you with a harsh shiver it brings to your spine.

It's the first time today that you realize you cannot just keep breaking the tip of a pencil and ask it to still write. The wood will scrape nastily against the paper, no words will come. You can't keep pushing Ellie and expect her to allow the little game you have played for months to continue. Especially not the more physical one that began two weeks ago.

Still, you press on, covering your whole body in stone. “Hook ups, Ellie. That’s all it was, haven’t you had them with half the fucking school?”

Ellie shakes her head again, pants tucked back on and backpack over her shoulder. “Yea. That’s all it is.”

She leaves through the door with a harsh slam of it, and you know better than to follow her and make sure no one sees.

Angry tears brush at your eyes, throat closing with the need to scream into something.

Ellie fucking Williams.

Why did it matter so much to you that she just left? For months you were completely fine shaming her to the depths of hell, you were fine with the insults and banter that you got at each party, where you picked out small bits of information about each other in between insults.

But that had changed the minute you were locked in that room with her in that frat party. It changed the moment your voices both pushed out words about how you had wanted this, leaving the admittance that you thought about each other out in the air. It only got worse the second time you welcomed her between your legs, kissing her like she was more than a hookup.. telling her you wanted her to stay the night.. falling asleep on her.

It had all been changing over and over since that first press of your lips to her own. You didn’t like it. Didn’t like how out of control it made you. So you instead will wallow in your own self destruction to keep that sense of control.

You aren’t sure how long passes before you move to change into a high necked shirt to cover the marks and walk out the door, but you will yourself to ignore the thoughts. You find your friends and walk out the door, acting like you haven’t just had the worst morning of your whole year.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

You’re warm again. Your legs hurt from the walking you had done with an empty stomach to this house on the very edge of campus, building a burn in your thighs. The uncomfortable amount of color corrector and concealer on your neck is beginning to feel sweaty, and you pull the neck of your top up a bit.

You had complained to Dina right away when she told you what frat tonight’s party would be at. It was over brunch, where you ordered nothing but a drink, unable to eat anything due to the constant swirling in your stomach. All of your sorority sisters had absolutely beamed when you agreed to go to the party, though your reasoning may be a little.. out of place. When you learned where it would be, your nose tilted up in disgust at the thought of the awful walk you had done a dozen times.

It was as bad as you thought, heels stretching against your shoes as you neared the house. Seriously, who puts a part of campus on a hill like this? It seems a bit inhumane to you.

When you reach the door, your feet pause, bumping into whichever of your friends is right behind you. “You scared or something? Parties can’t bite,” Ali giggled, making you shake your head.

No, but someone who may be inside this party could. One that you had pretty heavily pissed off this morning. The music is heard even from the door, and when you step in, that familiar heavy muggy feeling wraps around your body, curling your lip.

“I just dont get how you all enjoy these things, it feels like a sauna and smells like a fucking dump,” you mutter to her ear.

Dina pushes in, bumping her arm against your own. “You would enjoy them too if you let yourself relax a little. Always so strung up,” she shakes her head and pouts. The comments like those you receive daily usually slide off your back with no second thought, but for some reason that one stuck.

“Maybe,” the next words that you say felt foreign coming from your glossed lips, and a little fake, “I’ll try to relax.”

Dina grins even brighter, Ali clapping next to you like you had just won the fucking lottery or something. A tight smile presses to your mouth as you let the two girls drag you in along with the rest of your group.

The agreement wasn’t for the benefit of your friends, really. It was for your own sanity and a hopeful resolve to the awful sickness in your stomach and tightness in your muscles. You would blame it on the fact you had gotten worked up without relief this morning, not the way your chest hurt at the thought of the girl who had caused it.

Of course your words didn’t mean you would immediately follow Dina into the middle of the crowd of dancing college students, some of whom were embarrassing themselves by trying to climb on a table. No, you were still you. So you called it a cesspool with a scowl on your face when Dina suggested you dance. Instead you promised her you would talk to people and have a few drinks then meet up with them later if you were drunk enough to dance. Dina took what she could get.

So you made your way to the drink table, of which was tucked neatly in front of the sliding door that led to the backyard. You press your hair behind your ear as you lean over it, inspecting all the bottom shelf liquor that was already almost empty. For once you had left your hair mostly down, too much of a fuss to put it up and rid it of all the fly aways. Settling instead for pulling only some of it back with a pretty little bow that matched the shade of your skirt. Again, not exactly frat party material... but when had you ever dressed appropriately for them?

Your nose scrunched as you finally decided on the most untouched looking tequila, pouring a hefty amount into the solo cup your nails scraped against. The first sip makes your throat sting from the taste, but you refuse to add any of the juice that was left uncapped beside you. Always picking the harder option, apparently.

A giggle from behind you pulled you from the spit pooling in your mouth, and you turned to find the lips it belonged to. “Ellie, pour me a drink?” The voice asks, freezing you completely.

A very pretty girl tugs a tattooed arm to the opposite end of the table, the girl’s black painted nails dancing over the worst choice of vodka. Your eyes attach to the owner of the arm she’s dragging, stomach swooping when You are met with the side of Ellie’s face. It had been only a little over 12 hours since you’d seen this view, and it still made you woozy all over. Her face isn’t as hard as it had been this morning, when you fought with her and made her leave. No, Ellie looked generally relaxed, the pretty college girl on her arm probably the cause.

“Not sure you’re asking the right person, alcohol isn’t really my strong suit..” Ellie chuckled, still not having noticed you. When her eyes remove from the head of brunette hair she was focused on, the green instead focused on you. They drop back immediately, paying you absolutely no mind.

It makes your jaw click, unreasonably angry at how she could glance over you like you were a fucking brick wall. Your lips find the edge of the cup again, gulping down too long of a sip. Retrospectively, this was an awful idea, one that left you almost gagging as you pulled away, the liquid dripping from the corner of your mouth as you force down the last swallow. But it got Ellie’s attention on you again for a moment, her words stuttering just slightly as your fingers grip around the bottle, greedily taking that instead of the solo cup. So really it may be worth it. Not that you cared about Ellie’s gaze.

The wasps are making home in your stomach again the moment she looks at you again, almost curious. You swallow their buzzing down with a swig of the glass bottle.

You turn on your heel, annoyance only growing as you see the brunette lean onto Ellie. The tequila induced heat in your belly is fanning the flames already there. You had no right to be mad at Ellie, and a more reasonable part of your brain knew that. But the way she smiled down at the girl made you want to rip your fucking hair out.

Your feet plant heavily a few feet away, leaning back against the wall as you finally feel the liquor start to settle. Your eyelashes flutter, working hard to keep your attention in the middle of the party and not the chorus of voices to the side of you. You didn’t care what Ellie was doing. She was just a hook-up that ended badly. Your inner voice repeated similar phrases, trying to coax you into a false sense of security with the lie. It works only on the surface, your pupils still glancing over quickly every few seconds.

The straw that breaks your back Is when Ellie turns, leaning against the wall so the pretty girl can stand close to her as she fishes out a lighter, placing what you assume is a joint between her lips. The lighter is handed to the brunette, who flicks it to life and leans in even closer, lighting it for Ellie.

She’s fucking showing off, taunting you, you’re sure of it. Even if she doesn’t glance your way once, you are convinced of this. Maybe it’s a little egotistical to assume, but you were nothing if not sure of yourself. The bottle in your hand is brought up for another sip before you set it carelessly down on the floor, marching away from the scene.

It isn’t long before what you were looking for happens, a taller man stopping you in your tracks as you wander aimlessly around the party, avoiding finding auburn hair in the crowd. He smiles down at you, and you almost say finally out loud. One sway of your hip while you walked and they were on you like flies.

Men are too easy. Fun little tools for you to finally use with reason. Tonight’s reason being to distract yourself from a certain body pressed into some corner of this house. A little deeper your mind whispers it’s also to piss off that same someone, who you had no business bothering anymore.

The stench of weed is what you notice first about him, and then the blonde hair. Your nose almost crinkles when he smiles. Its too bright, too confident for how close he is to a girl he doesn’t even know.

Or maybe he does, saying your name as he greets you, “Haven't seen you at one of these in a while, where have you been?”

It takes everything in you to entertain the small talk, fingers toying around to find where you had hidden your lip gloss. Finding it in the waistband of your skirt, you eye him as you apply it with a hum. His eyes follow every movement. Like you said, easy.

“Yea.. I was really sick, What’s your name again?” You tilt your head, blinking curiously.

“Gabriel,” the blonde introduces himself, grinning again in a way you could never find charming. Not how you did with a freckled cheeked smirk.

“Right.. how have you been?” You play into the conversation, which seems to shock the smile right off Gabriel’s face. You were actually giving some frat boy the time of day? It probably would stun anyone around you, more so when you leaned forward and pressed a pretty finger on his arm, dragging it down to wipe at some blue liquid. “You had something there,” you explain, glancing up.

Gabriel seems all too worked up from the smallest touch, sending a wave of confidence through you. “I've been uh— been good. Started selling some bud a month or so back, get it from my dad’s friend..”

“Mhm..” you nod, tuning out his voice as someone walks behind him, auburn haired and laughing as she tugs the same brunette with her still. They find the couch that was nearby, still in your sightline as they sit. You swear you see her look over toward you and stay there for a second, but Gabriel’s voice is distracting you too much to tell.

When it comes back to the forefront of your mind, he was going on and on about selling weed, and you can’t help but think of Ellie again. She was never this annoying about it.

“You know, I give a pretty girl discount..” he says, stepping closer as a hand reaches out to play at the hem of your skirt. You have to fight the urge to slap it away, not wanting his probably dirty hands on the clean fabric. But the comment actually intrigued you, despite your pure hatred for the substance.

Maybe it was a way to subdue that ever growing anger, putting your lips to one of the two things you never wanted to. Your mind had fallen to this place last time you saw Ellie smoke, fogging over your previously bad experiences with weed. That curiosity was creeping up again, and the thought Ellie may see you with a joint in your mouth after shaming her daily for it, it made you a sick sort of excited. It was becoming useless to deny this whole.. scene wasn't about getting a rise out of Ellie, but you would still try as you say the next words.

“Yea? I’ve never really smoked actually, I'm kinda curious..” your voice drops a bit lower, flashing your pretty eyes up at Gabriel. Yea, that definitely was what this was about. Not about the way your throat tightens when you see Ellie throw her head back in a laugh behind Gabriel.

“And I’m kind of curious about this pretty skirt,” Gabriel says quietly, sending an uncomfortable tremble over your body. God, men had some fucking nerve. Still you play into it, leaning on your tippy toes to press your lips to the shell of his ear, ignoring the bile rising in your throat. You’re speaking to him, but your eyes are dead set on the couch behind you.

It isn't his hand settling on your waist that makes you jump, even if he would think that. No, it was the gaze that shifted up to you from the couch, hawkeyed on your lips that began to move against Gabriel’s ear.

“Maybe if give me that pretty girl discount and make it worthwhile— I can give you more interesting things to be curious about,” your breath hits Gabriel’s skin, and you like the way he shivers from it. Nothing else you like however, definitely not the words you pushed from your lips. The tequila made it easier, slipping weightless promises against the boy you would definitely never bother with again.

It works like a charm, your lips dripping with honey as you pull back, smiling while Gabriel scrambles through his pockets, pulling out a rather shitty looking joint. You weren’t exactly skilled on how they should look, but it sure isn’t this. The paper is crumpled slightly in places, building it uneven and a bit sad looking. You don't comment on this, and keep yourself from scoffing when his fingers reach forward to open your palm and place it there, the pads of his digits lingering a second too long.

“Try it and then come back and let me know if it was worthwhile,” Gabriel emphasizes your own words back at you, and your fingers curl around the joint. You couldn’t help but find him stupid for this, wondering how much of his inventory he had lost by girls playing a similar game. It would have been smarter to offer you smoke with him, but the blonde was far from that.

You manage one more brush against him before you send him a smile, turning around. “Will do, pretty boy.”

Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make a point to take the long route to your next destination, passing right by the couch. You can feel heat crawl up the nape of your neck, a strong set of eyes on your every move as you pass by. Purposely you ignore the burn, the refusal to give in to the pull it made you feel.

You swoop around the edge of the room, searching around until you find the head of black hair, bopping around to the song currently blasting on the speakers. You step over wrappers and poorly discarded cups as you trudge closer, unfortunately, to the middle of the crowd. The joint is still tightly tucked in your palm, which allows no space to wipe the grime you can feel building on your body from the shared heat the group was forming.

“Dina,” you call out, making her turn away from who was pressing against her. It takes you a moment to realize it was Jesse, his face bright red from the drinking and dancing. You greet him with an awkward smile before moving close enough to Dina that you can whisper in her ear.

“Do you have a lighter?”

“What?” Dina shouts, ringing your eardrums. You scowl at her, causing a sheepish smile to bloom on her face.

“A lighter,” you repeated, Dina’s eyes shining when she understands.

“Oh! Yea,” her hand leaves its place on Jesse, rummaging through the pockets of the pants she was wearing, pulling out a mini red lighter. “Here babe,” she grins, and you want to kiss her cute cheeks for not asking anymore questions.

You swipe the object with your free hand, saying something about seeing her later before pushing quickly out of the pile of college students, back to the comfort of the edges of the too small room.

Your legs push you forward, huffing at the gross feeling lingering on your clothes as you find the sliding door again. You push away the drink table to get through, pulling it closed behind you.

The cool night air wraps around your skin, and you can finally fucking breathe out. It felt like your chest had been building up one big heave all night, only able to escape the moment the cold breeze met your lungs. It pushes into the darkness in front of you, the only light that of the colors that bled outside from the glass door, flashing every now and again. A small flickering tan bulb sits to the side of the door, but that barely lights more than the color of your shirt when you sit directly under it. You stumble slightly, the liquor in you having more of an effect than you would like to admit.

No one else was out here yet, the party still building up in stamina, no one but you willing to tear away from it for fresh air. You pull your skirt under you, regretting it instantly when you shift against the concrete stair. You could practically feel the threads ripping. That was the smallest thing on your mind however, instead opening your palm to show the tiny joint.

Honestly, you hadn’t a clue what to do as you raised it between your thumb and forefinger, feeling it. Your free hand fiddles with Dina’s lighter, sparking it.

You swipe through film reels in your mind to try and remember the proper way to light it, and every single option has Ellie’s face. Any semblance of an idea you could find regarding this type of thing would always include a memory of Ellie. Ellie at some party, spitting remarks at you as your eyes trace the way she holds whatever smoke she has between her lips. Ellie handed a neatly sealed bag to some student, fingers flipping through the cash she received for it. Ellie showing someone how to smoke for the first time.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. A strange lump rises in your throat to know she isn’t the one actually here to help you with this, but you swallow it down as you dip your mind back into each red coated memory, pausing on one in particular, a clearer study of Ellie’s fingers slightly twirling a joint as she lit it, looking to get an even burn.

You follow memory Ellie’s actions, and sigh when a red ring wraps around the tip of the joint. You debate for a long second before bringing it to your mouth, sucking in. It felt wrong to do, completely alien as your gloss sticks slightly to the tip. The long pull you take draws a large cough from you as you lean forward and pull the paper from your mouth, throat burning.

If anyone else was around you would be embarrassed, your usually steady demeanor totally falling down as you shake slightly from the tipsiness and bad hit you just took.

Your throat aches, but you much prefer that burn to the one that sat heavily in your chest all day. The rising level of dazedness continues as the tequila works its way though your system, now accompanied by the baby hits you continue to take from your burning joint.

You can’t be sure it's even doing anything, the quick intake and push out of the smoke you have going on. If someone was here to teach you, maybe it wouldn't be burning to ash faster than the hits you were taking.

Your eyes fall in front of you, at the almost pitch black backyard, thrumming with the sounds of crickets and leaves. It’s more comfortable than the base you can feel pounding against the door. Tilting your head up, you let your dizzy eyes focus on the stars, tracing constellations you could find. Sometimes something like this could be your only source of peace.

Your hand raises, covering the light with your pinky, watching the way it still spills out from the sides. A particular patch draws too much similarity to the freckles that coat Ellie under eye, something you would much rather trace with your finger. The moment of peace dies.

Your hand drops at your mind’s tricks, unable to go even a moment without some vision of her clouding your actions. The awful games your conscious plays on you continues with the scraping sound of the sliding door, a voice too similar to Ellie’s asking “You out here alone?”

It sounds like her, but you assume you misheard. Waving one of your hands back in a ‘fuck off’ motion to whoever it may be. It happened to be the hand holding your joint, causing a bit of ash to fall against your hand with the rough movement. “Ouch,” you pout to yourself, assuming the stranger would turn on their heel and leave, as they usually do.

The motion only pushes this person on though, slamming the door closed, feet padding on the concrete.

You turn, ready to berate whoever was ruining your alone time, but it really is Ellie. Her shirt is slightly hanging off to one side, hair pressed behind her ears. Its the closest look you’ve gotten so far tonight, and the devil on your tipsy shoulder says you should tell her pretty face to fuck off.

You don’t, made completely wordless as she leans down over you. Ellie rips the joint from your fingers, inspecting the flimsy paper and wet with gloss tip. You had only gotten a third of the way through, apparently. You blink quickly as she steps to you.

“You're smoking, and it's not even my weed,” the taller snickered, letting the still burning joint ash off onto the cement while she towers over you. You want to slap her, demand she gives you back your shit and leave you alone like she had claimed to be doing from now on. Instead you just start talking.

“How’d you know it was me?” You ask, eyeing the auburnette as she fiddles with the object between her fingers.

“No one but you would wear a fucking bow in their hair like that to a sleazy frat party.”

Scoffing, you hold your palm out so she can hand back the joint. She refuses, not even paying mind to your motion. It makes you bite down on your lip to keep from swearing.

“His bud fucking sucks by the way, thats why no one buys from him. And he can’t roll for shit,” she flicks her wrist to enhance the words, the uneven and poorly packed joint acting as something to follow with your eyes.

Ellie continues babbling, like this was some normal conversation between friends, “He charges way too much for a fucking eighth of his basically brown, dry shit. I’m sure your throat hurts from it right now, hm?”

“Ellie,” you interrupt, pushed on by the liquor dripping down your stomach. “Why are you out here?”

Ellie’s jumble of words stop, the joint completely out now as it stays clenched between the long fingers.

“I was coming out to smoke,” she shrugged, “I knew the stars were gonna look nice tonight and it was getting too busy in there to sit on the couch. Didn’t exactly expect to find ms perfect had already claimed the smoke spot.”

Ellie mentioning the stars you had just been staring up at makes you swallow into your dry throat, trying not to allow your mind to wander to the questions about Ellie’s apparent knowledge.. or at least like, of the night sky.

You don’t meet her eyes, “don’t you have a girl to entertain?” it's leaking with obvious jealousy when you say it, slightly slurred by your glossy lips.

Ellie dances around your comment, ignoring your attitude. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Are you drunk right now?” you retort, a voice unlike your own— one shrillier and more childish, mocking her. You say it before you can stop yourself, immediately embarrassed by the comment.

You really need to stop drinking tequila, and being around Ellie, seemingly the only two things that can make you this immature and impulsive.

So impulsive that when Ellie throws your joint out into the grass somewhere and takes a seat next to you, you don't immediately stand and hit her. You just keep on pestering.

“Seriously, I thought you,” you raise your digits to make air quotes , “weren't entertaining my game anymore,” your hands wave as you do a very bad Ellie impression, lowering your voice to repeat the words drilled into your mind this morning. Ones that had played in your head like a tune you couldn’t get out, a recording pressed to restart over and over. You treated it like a joke, a taunt.

“I’m not. Just sitting to have a smoke..you just happen to be here,” Ellie muttered, looking at the tree line instead of you.

“Go smoke with that brunette,” you reply in a clipped tone, no longer able to bite back the overflow of bitter comments about the pretty girl who had been longing all over Ellie inside. Ellie doesn’t ignore it this time, hitting back with her own jab.

“Go be a slut with Gabriel for a joint again.”

Your face turns red, ears ringing as she admits she was watching on to your little show with the blonde man. The liquid in your stomach threatens to cause a spree of mean responses at her comment despite this, offended by the harsh words as much as they warmed you. But you only manage, “Fuck you. Maybe I will, you just threw mine out.”

Ellie shakes her head, almost looking regretful for the comment. She pulls out one of her own pre rolls from a little tin in her pocket, the one she always carries. You could never make out the design on it before, always having been much further away when she pulled it out previous to now. It has sharpie drawings all over it, which you assume she does it herself, but she's tucking it back away before you get a look.

This one was much more even and tightly packed of course, no sign it had been pressed together by nervous hands. Ellie hadn’t lied in her ramblings, but that only annoyed you more.

“If you’re gonna smoke, smoke my shit.”

You glance at her for a moment, at the outstretched fingers leaning toward you.

“I don’t even think I did it right,” you admit quietly. It hangs in the trees for a moment, blowing with the twigs that hang from them. It’s a small nudge, an agreement to for at least for a moment ignore the way Ellie was purposefully ignoring every question you asked. Ignoring this morning. “I don’t feel anything but tipsy, nothin like what people say it feels like.”

Maybe weed just didn’t work on you, someone cursed to always be so uptight. Or maybe you just were shit at smoking.

“Well it’s not gonna feel the same when you’re already drunk,” Ellie scoots a bit closer, just barely brushing your arm as she lights the tip of the paper, watching the even burn follow.

“Gettin’ crossfaded feels different from just being high. You might not like it.”

It's too embarrassing to ask what crossfaded means, but you use the context of the situation to assume it has something to do with drinking and smoking at the same time. “Still wanna try,” your eyes land again on the pre roll, knees turning to face in toward El, jean clad legs bumping against your own bare ones.

“Don't be so needy,” Ellie mumbled as the joint is pulled just slightly between her lips, taking in a much larger breath than you had ever done.

The word makes your legs shift, warm and searching to rid the slight pulse it caused. Ellie’s eyes immediately glance down to them, noticing the reaction even more than yourself. She doesn’t comment on it.

She takes one more hit before passing it to you, steadily slotting it between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Wipe your gloss off,” she instructs, making you look at her curiously. “You don't want to make this part wet, and only put your lips on it a bit.”

You follow her directions a little too well, free thumb wiping across your lips, a blaze of green following the motion intently. Then the joint is placed, this time more gently, between your lips.

“Good,” Ellie nods, making you shiver slightly. The word wraps around your throat, squeezing like fingers, dizzying your head more than this smoke ever could. You internally slap yourself, screaming to get a grip, to stop this flood of feeling again.

“Now take a breath in, a big one, but if your throat starts to sting even a little, blow out right away, don't try and finish the hit. It’ll make the cough worse.”

The step by step instructions help just as you had imagined it would, a much smoother drag happening following Ellie’s words. She watches on carefully, and from the corner of your eye you can see her swallow at the same time the smoke pushes past your lips, out into the backyard air.

“Take another,” Ellie adds after a beat of silence, and you doubt this one is for your own sake. You listen like a dog being bribed with a bone, your version of treat being Ellie’s attention fixated solely on you. With another pull, your head tilts back and up to the stars again, copying a move you had seen Ellie do at countless parties as you blow out.

The joint is pulled from your grip before your chin even tilts back down. Ellie’s gaze is set straight ahead again as she takes a few puffs of her own, jaw much tighter than before.

You can't help but ask a little slower, “Did I do good?”

The game Ellie vowed to take an axe to was starting up again, pushing the line between you two again, like you had any right to do so. Like your scissors had any right to cut the string threaded between the two of you. But it was already fraying, blade taken to it one too many times.

Ellie does her best to knot it back together, “You did,” falling from her muffled lips stiffly. But her metaphorical hands are shaking, unable to tie that knot as your eyes glance at her hand that’s near her mouth.

“You did good,” she repeats, smoke puffing out with her words.

You nod, settling for this as an answer as you tear away from watching her smoke, staring up to continue finding pictures in the sky.

A few moments pass, building the thick fog of tension between you as the feeling finally hit. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, the whole damn planet spinning for a second before it settles into a more liveable feeling.

It's the first time your body doesn’t feel heavy, first time you aren’t acutely aware of your skirt dirtying beneath you, hairs falling from the white colored bow. For once you don’t give a fuck what you may look like— though the crossed feeling may not be the only component to this, the person sitting next to you also seeming to lull you into an unusual allowance to let go.

“How does it feel?” Ellie questions, you can feel her hot breath on you now, her face turned to face your cheek, watching your chest move slowly.

It takes a moment to find your voice, a little embarrassingly too far gone from such a small amount of hits, though you guess mixing this with the tequila was probably more likely the cause. “good,” you lick your dry lips.. frowning slightly when not met with the usual wet gloss. You don't mind too much right now, instead set on answering Ellie’s question.

You aren’t even sure how to describe the feeling, words not being able to mesh together correctly to find a proper explanation, only able to ask, “I wanna take another,” head nodding toward her.

You turn your head, still tilted back slightly as you raise your fingers to take the joint. Before you can, it’s already against your lips. Ellie is holding the joint for you, and that string that laid between you two has fallen completely to your feet. The game back on.

You catch her eyes as you take a breath in, her pupils blown wide and slightly red, just as high looking as your own.

You aren’t sure what pushes you to make your next move, maybe the weed, maybe how pretty Ellie looked when she pulled the joint away from you, lip trembling gently with a breath. Whatever it is, it pushes you forward, pressing against her lips.

Her lips part slightly immediately, opening up as the smoke from your hit pools out between the kiss, hot enough to burn your eyes that quickly close. Her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, wetting it a bit more before pressing into a deeper kiss again. You aren’t sure where her joint has gone, but soon both hands are free and on your cheeks, pressing into the fat there, forcing you to stay connected as lomg as she deemed.

By the time she lets you pull back from the now sloppy kiss, drool pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you’re wheezing for a breath. But you still chase her lips, only pushing her further back.

“We have to stop doing this,” Ellie whispers against your neck as her hands move to grip under your thighs, lifting you up to her lap, your eyes meeting the glass door— reminding you again that if anyone looked a little too closely they would see you. You blink hard, not making out any bodies near the table.

It takes another second for you to recall Ellie’s words, “doing what?” you ask, a little more breathy as Ellie’s lips find your jaw.

“Fucking instead of talking. Never ends well,” Ellie says, still continuing her trail of wet kisses, pausing to wipe away the makeup covering your hickies. She doesn’t bite over them this time, instead just lazily pressing soft lips over all of the half covered bruises.

“Third times a charm?” You try, eyes deadset still on the flashing colors of the door.

Ellie’s hand falls down your chest, pushing up under your shirt to find your boobs, kneading the fleshy fat, tweaking your nipples a little too meanly, sending a wave straight down to your lower belly. You whine, mouth falling open with a small series of gasps.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me,” Ellie whispers against the ear closest to her cheek, words willing your head to not fall against her neck, instead pulling back to look at her, grumbling when her hand falls from its place in your shirt.

You knew how she played by now, sensing her next movements before she can even play them, so you don’t dare ignore her question. “The door.. was making sure-” head spinning deliciously when her cold hand pressed under your skirt, pushing your panties to the side, swiping the pad of two fingers over your weepy slit, “making sure no one was looking.” you finish.

Her hand appears again from under your skirt, a devilish grin pulling at the features of her face you can barely see. “Doesn’t really seem like you give a fuck if someone sees,” Ellie chides, the fingers popping into her mouth, you see her cheeks indent slightly as she licks your wetness from her fingers, replacing it with that from her own tongue when the digits fall back out of her lips, and back down to its original spot, sliding over your cunt again.

“Maybe that's what you need,” Ellie begins, tracing you by only dipping the finger in very slightly, feeling the throbbing muscle. You know where this is going, you can already taste the degrading words about to come on your tongue, and you happily will lap at whatever insult she has coming. Your head is dizzy enough already, limbs slow moving as they grasp at her shoulders, trying to grind yourself down into it.

“Maybe you need to get caught,” Ellie hums as one finger finally bottoms out in you, a sweet whine drawn from you at the sensation. “Maybe that’ll get you to stop acting like such a bitch about sleeping with me..if its all out in the open,” she emphasizes the words with a slow thrust, the wet sound echoing in the air, the thumping beat from inside the house behind you falling as a backdrop to the much louder sopping wet sounds.

“You want that, princess? Want someone to find me fucking you open on my fingers? Maybe that asshole you talked to? Bet he’d love to see my girl bouncing on these fingers.” Ellie continues, a possessive tilt to her voice. You have half a mind to bring up the brunette she was with, but then she’s pressing another finger into the mix and scissoring them inside you ever so lightly, exploring the walls that squeeze around the long digits. The pet name falls so easily from her lips that it takes you back to before this morning, when everything was just slightly less messy.

“Fuck,” you whine, forehead falling against her’s, willing yourself to hope that the drink table in front of the door covers you enough, that if someone passing by looked all they would see was two shadows likely kissing. The shaky logic just made it even more exhilarating, grinding down on her fingers. “No, I don't- don’t wanna get caught,” you whimper, but make no effort to stop the movements.

Ellie’s breath mixes with your own as you keep yourself close, chin tilting in to speak directly against your lips, “too dark for anyone to see..” she assures, easing your mind slightly, “unless they look a bit too hard,” Ellie murmured, then pressing forward to kiss you again, which you graciously accepted.

Her fingers move in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace, playing with you before speeding up gently when you cry out at the curl of her fingers. “El, more— please,” you ask against her lips, words swallowed by her greedy mouth, kissing you again with swollen lips.

“Askin so nicely,” Ellie praised, rewarding you with a quickening pace, sucking a large gulp of air into your lungs. Your head swirls above your body, too overwhelmed by all of the mixing sensations to continue the kiss, just breathing into her mouth, nose brushing against hers. For being in such an open place, it feels rather intimate and soft, directly opposite to the words that spew on from Ellie’s always moving lips.

“You wanna come? Wanna soak my fingers for me? Right here where anyone could walk out?” Ellie cooed the words, taunting you again with the one thing you feared. It doesn’t matter anymore, the tangles in your belly making it useless to fight her words. You nod dumbly, any speaking choked in your throat.

“Words, baby..” Ellie chatisizes, slowing her fingers. The loss of friction has you babbling quickly, whiny sounding and completely out of it, “No, el please keep going. I w‘na come, please let me come,” you beg against her, loud enough for her but a whisper to the rest of the world.

Ellie makes a noise of approval from your rambling, quickening her pace again, this time rougher, tips of her fingers always hitting that spot that makes your knees buckle and hips buck. The high that's settling over you like a fog only makes it feel even better, each touch of her other hand against your skin has you trembling, feeling like a thousand little satellites lighting across your body. Your head falls, watching the leaf ink of her arm move back and forth with each push of her fingers, your folds drooling around her fingers. Her thumb come to circle your clit— which has you trying to slap her hand away at the burning feeling, almost too much.

Ellie’s free hand dances up you, fingers finding home on your neck, squeezing enough to make you look up, forced to meet Ellie’s searching eyes. “You can take it, keep looking at me,” she breathes, squeezing her hand enough to make you sputter, eyes burning. It pushes the lightheaded daze you're in further, even stronger now as you feel yourself clenching around her, a new wave of wetness following each slick sounding plunge into you.

You follow the order, blurry eyes focused directly on hers, pulling your heart in five different ways as you blink quickly, tears clinging to your lashes as the squeeze on your throat continues. Ellie is looking at you like you are the only thing she’s ever seen, enamored by your parted mouth, sticky strings of spit connecting your lips, by your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. She’s looking at you like you are the stars above her head, and thats what sends you tumbling into your orgasm, that look.

It comes with a loud cry, struggling to bubble through your tightly gripped throat, searching for another gulp of air as you shake in her lap. It's the most intense orgasm you think you may have ever felt, ten times stronger due to the connecting details that lead to it. The high, the fear of being caught, her hand, that look, it all makes the feeling even fucking better, and you can feel how much you’ve soaked her hand when she pulls out. You feel out of your body, like you have been released from your skin and instead into the air, ready to float up to the stars. The only thing that holds you here is Ellie’s soft voice against your hiccuping cheek.

“Gotta breathe baby, you did so good for me,” Ellie kisses your cheek, and you can feel her messily wiping her fingers against your thigh, something you would have complained about if you were any more in charge of your brain at the moment.

The next set of breaths come a bit slower, finding place in your body again as you come back down, closing your eyes and slumping into Ellie. Your eyes flick to the door, happy to see no one there, and no one nearby.

You both sit in silence for a moment, not sure what to do next. Ellie dashes any hopes of a quiet and easy end to this hookup with her next words.

“Let me take you on a date,” Ellie says quietly, tone out of that harsh one and back into a much softer one. It's totally at the wrong time. But nothing you two did was ever timed right.

“Fuck off,” you reply immediately, making her pinch your hip. “I mean it you asshole,” Ellie grumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. That was fine by you, as your heart hammered so hard against your ribs you were convinced it may jump out if she looked at you while saying this.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you rasp, throat dry and quiet as you respond to the ridiculous situation, still riding out the aftershocks.

“Yea,” Ellie nods, “Been wanting to ask from that first fucking party, always played into your fights cause it meant i got your attention, picked on you so I could—” Ellie babbles, burning your cheeks a bright red. You search for a way out of the conversation, a way to avoid the festering emotions it brings. But you can’t, not anymore. The words are too real, no longer tiptoeing around the truth like you two loved to do. Too much to push off without completely breaking what was going on here.

“Stop,” you beg, making Ellie stiffen slightly. “Stop embarrassing yourself, I’ll go on a date with you,” you finish, reveling in the way Ellie relaxes. It takes a lot to say, ripping away all semblance of control you felt over the situation. You were finally giving in to your own feelings, to Ellie’s.

“Who knew all I had to do was ask you after an orgasm?” Ellie jokes, again with the awful timing. You shove her half heartedly, shuffling your panties back into place as you clamber off her lap, movement stumbly as you settle next to her, thighs still shaking.

“Stop talking,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your eyes, still feeling high. Ellie grins beside you, looking like she had just won a prize despite your targeted words. It tugs at your heart again, descending it into the pit of your stomach, where it rolls around and sends an uncontrollable giggle past your lips. It feels wrong coming from you, and you press your fingers to your lips to stop any more.

“You-“ Ellie starts, but you make a quick noise to stop her calling you out on the giggle.

“If you stop talking I’ll walk out the party together with you,” you hold out your finger to stop her words. Ellie seems to be a talkative high tonight, much to your own disadvantage. It hurts your cheeks and chest from how hard all her words made them pull.

Ellie hums, eyes narrowing slightly. It was a big enough step for the both of you. Not a promise of anything serious, but your own way of an apology for all the sneaking around, all the fights and bitchy moves you have pulled these last weeks. It’s a promise to at least give it a shot.

Ellie makes the same promise as she stares at you and nods, “Deal.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams fluff

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

Note

Dear Crowley, I heard this dashing and very intelligent fox beastman is looking for a job. He used to work as a manager at a popular theme park, so he probably has a ton of experience! Maybe he'd make a great addition to the staff?

The way I choked laughing when I read this interaction 🤡

I decided to structure this interaction like a job interview between Crowley and Fellow (facilitated, of course, by the Reader/Prefect's written recommendation). I thought it would be funnier this way! (Note: Fellow is definitely sugarcoating, glossing over, outright lying, and laying it on thick in some of his responses, but since this is framed mainly from Crowley's perspective, these inconsistencies are not pointed out.)

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

This is the one recommended for the open teaching position?

Crowley eyed the man standing before him. He was beastman, as per the Prefect's description, with a pair of red fox ears and a fluffy tail.

A crimson-lined violet jacket, half a cape tossed over one shoulder, was secured over an olive vest and a snug waist. Golden embellishments and starry badges dangled from his lapels, and the same sparkles studded his top hat. Fun patterns cut into diamond windows raced up his dark green trousers. His long legs were crowned by knee-length spats, and he held an elegant cane topped with a fox in his gloved hands.

His look was professional yet playful.

The candidate was handsome—no doubt about that—and the keen gleam to his eyes implied a sharpness, a pointed wit, about him.

A horrible thought occurred to Crowley: He's not more dashing and intelligent than me, is he? No, no, it simply cannot be done! There’s no one fairer than I!

The headmaster brushed off his concerns, vanity placated, and cleared his throat.

"Let's see here... You are Fellow Honest, correct?" Crowley referred his provided resume. It was handwritten and contained a number of spelling and grammatical errors.

"That's my name! Don't wear it out," the beastman chirped with a wink and the twirl of his cane. "Fellow Honest, at your service."

“Please tell me about yourself, Mr. Honest.”

“Well! Not much to say, I’m afraid. I’m just a wanderer down on his luck, lookin’ to find his way in the world. I saw your job posting and thought I should shoot my shot.”

“I see on your resume that your last position was as a theme park manager…? Why the sudden shift in career, if I may ask?”

"You see, I've always been a lad of big hopes and dreams. I went into the entertainment industry wanting to spread that positivity to others.

"My park used to attract quite a few families and their children, so I came to know the kids quiiite well! They'd tell me stories of their school days, talk about the things they'd want to become in the future. So full of imagination and wonder. I realized I wanted to be a part of that process. Teaching them, guiding them... so they can be the best adults they can be!"

Fellow chuckled—it slid off his tongue easily, as though his laugh was slick with honey. "I thought I'd be the one inspiring them. Turns out, the kids were the ones to light a fire under my tail."

"My, what a stirring story!" Crowley cried out. "I can tell that your passion for working with children is true~

“Now then, why Night Raven College? There are any number of schools you could apply to if you wish to lend your assistance to the youth."

"It's true. I thought to start my own school before this," he confessed, "but Night Raven College called to me. Its graduates are influential, the school's reach immense, and the headmaster most magnanimous... I figured if I wanted to make an impact, this was the place to do that."

Fellow hesitated.

"... And, as one bright young boy once told me, Night Raven College is a place where everyone and anyone is welcome. Even someone from as humble a background as myself can fit in here."

Crowley found himself nodding along with his narrative. The shower of praise was making him feel flattered and floaty—and the more Fellow talked, the more the headmaster felt himself leaning into his words.

But the interview questions. They were not through yet.

The thought slowly sobered Crowley up. His resolution returned, duty and honor-bound to pick the most qualified candidate for the job.

No time for fun and games, not now.

"How would you describe your own magical capabilities? As you know, NRC is an establishment meant for training tomorrow's mages. To that end, many of our tenured professors boast a strong history of magic themselves."

"Ah, that." Fellow’s smile was wry, playing off the anxious little tug at his cravat. “That is…”

“Answer the question, Mr. Honest.”

“Dire, Dire, Dire—may I call you that?” He paused, but failed to grant enough time for a response. Fellow moved fast, talked fast—his cane spinning fast, fast, fast. “I’ll be the first to admit my magical might isn’t on the same level as that of your colleagues.”

Crowley frowned. “Then I’m afraid we cannot proceed with the interview. It would be rather challenging for the students to learn from a teacher who has yet to master magic themselves...”

Fellow’s face fell. “You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I apologize, but this discussion is over.”

“H-HOLD IT!!” he protested, his polite facade dropping. Anger and upset flared on Fellow’s vulpine features. “Where do you get off, cutting me out the very moment I mention…”

Crowley’s expression hardened, the grip on his staff tightening. “Oh dear, it looks as though this interview is headed south.”

Dark power roiled up from within him. The binds on his strength, snapping. Fellow whimpered like a fox backed into a corner by a larger predator.

“A-Ahahahah… Please forgive my outburst, sir~” he simpered, sinking back into his seat. “I-I’d still like the chance to explain myself, oh-so-generous headmaster!!”

“You may,” Crowley replied. His face was almost entirely shrouded by the shadow of his mask. His expression, unreadable.

“You’re right. I… I don’t have a lot of magic to spare. But…!! Even if that’s true about me, I don’t want the students to think like that, judging their own worth based on what an institution says is desired or not.” Fellow’s fingers curled into shaking fists in his lap. “In an ideal world… everyone can pursue their dreams without discrimination, without being told they’re not enough.”

“The final question for you,” Crowley announced grimly. “How do you plan to instruct if you cannot lead by example? How will you instill the lessons and values of Night Raven College?”

“Magic isn’t everything,” Fellow fired back passionately. “It doesn’t matter how much magic history they can recite or how many fancy spells they know.

“What’s most important to me… is that the students find enjoyment in what they learn and can make use of it. That’s how I’d teach them. Practically, and in a way that allows them to laugh and enjoy life for the fun that it’s supposed to be.”

“Hmmm.”

Crowley stared him carefully, like a crow nestled amid the tree branches. Watching, listening.

For the first time, he felt as though he was witnessing the true Fellow Honest.

His interviewee heaved a deep, dramatic sigh, a hand running through his hair. He barked out a bitter laugh.

“I get it, you bigwigs never want to hear what us little guys have to say. I’ll see myself out. It was a waste of my time to try this again. I knew I should have struck out on my own."

Fellow headed for the exit, stomping unhappily, his violet cape trailing behind him. From the other side of the door, a small cat boy in oversized clothes peered in.

“C’mon, Giddie,” Fellow snapped, “we’re done here.”

The child obediently followed. He stumbled in boots that were untied and far too large for him. Still, the concern in his young face did not waver.

Crowley’s eyes followed them until their figures vanished out of sight—but the applicant lingered in his mind. He returned to Fellow’s handwritten resume, mind wandering to the answers the beastman had offered. Different answers, but nonetheless ardent ones.

“… Interesting,” Crowley mused, his lips pulling back into a smile. “Most interesting.”

He's an applicant to consider.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Dire Crowley #Fellow Honest #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk #stage in playful land spoilers

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putting-it-into-parc · 1 month

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papaya problems

masterlist

part 2!!

Oscar x reader, Lando x reader (4.0k words)

summary: after a chance encounter with oscar, you can’t help but daydream about what could’ve been. lando has other ideas.

warnings: unresolved tension, potentially inaccurate pit crew descriptions, tw: dutch national anthem ;))

papaya problems

On your first day at McLaren, the secretary at the front desk hands you a card attached to a bright orange lanyard. Race Crew, it declares proudly. You slip it over your head right away, feeling a little buzz of excitement.

After shaking hands with what feels like a thousand people, all dressed in orange polos—or, as you were told during orientation, papaya polos—your guide Shawn leads you to a back hallway, tucked well inside Team Hub, the McLaren motorhome. “As you probably already know well, Lando and Oscar are the two drivers for us this season. If we’re lucky, they might be around to say hi.”

A knock on a door labelled with Oscar’s name yields no response. But as you two approach Lando’s driver room, you hear the muffled sounds of two boys screeching.

“AAAAAAAAAH!!!!”

Thump.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! THERE’S TWO OF THEM!!”

“Lando, just open the door!”

“NOOOOOOOO!!!”

You exchange a glance with your guide. His eyes are crinkled at the corners. “Sounds like they’re a bit…preoccupied,” he says. You nod, amused.

The door abruptly flies open, and one of the drivers bolts out. You have just enough time to register a mop of brown curls, and icy blue eyes widened in terror. The taller of the two walks out of the driver’s room much more calmly. His hair, although also brown, sweeps over his forehead in a smooth wave. He raises his straight, dark eyebrows at the two of you.

“This is one of our drivers, Oscar Piastri,” Shawn informs you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, extending a hand politely.

“Pleasure,” Oscar drawls in a distinctly Australian accent, accepting your hand. His feels warm. Inviting. “And that animal over there, crying over a wasp like the baby he is, is Lando.”

Right on cue, Lando trots over, wiping sweat from his forehead. “That wasp was huge, mate. You’re so calm cause you’re an Aussie. Aren’t the bugs, like, the size of dinner plates there?” He shivers at his own words.

Then he notices you. “You must be new here,” he says. He clears his throat, stands up a little straighter. “I’m Lando. Norris.”

You smile at Lando, offer up your name. “That’s a pretty name,” Lando says. “Pretty girls always have pretty names.” And he winks.

Shawn rolls his eyes. “Lando Norris is our other driver. He has an unfortunate tendency to flirt with anything that moves.”

“Hey, now,” Lando says smoothly. He shoots a quick glare at the guide. “I have the fortunate tendency of not being afraid to appreciate beauty when I see it.”

You accidentally make eye contact with Oscar, who’s standing behind Shawn, and he mouths, You’ll get used to it. You can’t help but smile.

A tiny insect flies out of the driver’s room, and the three of you laugh as Lando dashes back into his room and slams the door.

Later, you’re desperately wandering the halls of the motorhome in search of a vending machine. Your first day was a blur of faces, names, and fact sheets, and you need caffeine now. Finally, you spy one just outside the kitchen. Someone’s already standing in front of it, clearly pondering his choice of beverage. He turns around at the sound of your oncoming footsteps.

“Hey,” Oscar nods. You’re surprised he recognizes you, having only just met you briefly today.

“Hi Oscar. Know what drink you’re going for?”

His eyes are fixated on the row of Coke bottles at the very top. “I’d kill for a Coke.”

“Why don’t you get one?” you knit your brows in confusion.

“Diet. My trainer wouldn’t like that at all.”

Right. The drivers have to maintain weight. And Oscar, being decently tall, is already at a bit of a disadvantage. He sighs and punches in a number. A Diet Coke comes tumbling out of the machine, and he scoops it up and steps aside for you.

You scan the drinks and settle on a tall can of Monster—the most potent source of alertness the vending machine has to offer.

“Wow, a Monster at 5pm,” Oscar muses. A teasing smile has formed at the corners of his lips. He has a dimple on his left cheek.

You sigh. “First days are rough. Although I’ll admit that I’m a bit of a caffeine junkie.”

“Tell me about it,” he says, running his fingers through his already perfect hair. “It’s only Media Day and all I want to do is roll around in my covers. And we haven’t even raced yet.”

The thought of Oscar wrapping himself up in a duvet like a burrito makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

You feel your cheeks burn. “Nothing,” you say quickly. Oscar just stares at you with an inscrutable look on his face.

Great. Now he thinks I’m insane.

“Well,” Oscar says. “I’d better get back. But it was nice meeting you. And I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He gives you a small smile and slips away.

You want to kick yourself for acting like such a fool in front of Oscar, then you wonder why you care so much in the first place.

Because he’s a driver, and as a pit crew member you wouldn’t want him to think you’re weird. Right. Because you were teammates, and teammates need to get along. No other reason at all.

For the rest of the week, a can of Monster greets you at the door of your hotel room every morning. Oscar. It’s very kind of him. You wonder if he’s this nice to everyone else on staff. You feel a tiny lick of jealousy imagining him ordering drinks for other people, and quickly stamp out the feeling.

Lando, on the other hand, doesn’t settle just for kind. Every time he passes by you on the paddock, he flashes you a winning smile and a wink. On Sunday night, his eyes meet yours as he holds his P3 trophy aloft, and holds your gaze as he sprays his champagne all over Max Verstappen. You notice that Oscar tips back his bottle in a perfunctory swig, but doesn’t mirror their antics. After the podium ceremony, Lando hurries over to you.

“Post-race party tonight,” he says, breathless. “Come with me?”

Frankly, you’re exhausted. Partying is the last thing you want to be doing—Oscar’s burrito technique sounds really good right about now. You give Lando an apologetic smile, murmur something about next time, and shuffle up to your hotel room like a zombie. How the drivers have the energy for this…you’ll never understand.

You’re indulging yourself with a hot soak in your bathtub when you think you hear a knock at your door. Ugh. It repeats, a little louder. You climb out of the tub, wrap a robe around your body, and peer through the little hole in the door.

It’s Oscar. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In his hands are a helmet and a small tin.

Crap. You don’t have time to put clothes on. You open the door, just a tiny crack. “Oscar?”

“Hey,” he says cautiously. “Sorry to be a bother.”

“No, not at all. It’s just…I’m kind of only wearing a robe right now. Sorry, I was taking a bath…”

Oscar’s cheeks turn pink. You feel your own face redden.

“So I’m totally being a bother,” he says. “Sorry again. You left your helmet at the paddock, and Lando said you went back to your hotel room because you weren’t feeling well.”

You have no choice but to open the door fully and accept the helmet from Oscar. You’re sure your hair is dripping onto the carpet. He carefully avoids looking anywhere but your eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m a mess,” you mutter, embarrassed by your carelessness. “Thanks so much for bringing it all the way over here.”

Oscar chuckles. “It’s not a problem. We’re like, right down the hall from you.”

“But you should be out at post-race. What are you doing at the hotel at all?”

“I’m not that much of a party guy,” Oscar says quietly. “Not gonna lie, as soon as the podium ceremony’s over, I usually try to sneak back before someone manages to drag me to some bar.”

This surprises you. You figured the drivers would be mostly outgoing, always chasing a new high, overflowing with energy.

“Speaking of which,” he says, holding out the tin he had been carrying in his other hand. “Tea. I know you prefer Monster, but it is pretty late…”

Your heart melts. “Oscar,” you say, taken aback at his sweetness. “You didn’t have to…”

He shrugs. “I felt bad. Don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m not,” you say guiltily. “I just told Lando I was tired. I guess I’m just not as good at sneaking back to the hotel as you are.”

At the mention of Lando, Oscar suddenly starts to examine the patterns on the carpet with great interest.

Suddenly, curiosity seizes you. “So when you come back early, what do you do?”

“Usually watch TV. Maybe read a book or play mindless video games. Just unwind.” He meets your eyes again. “You? Aside from your bath, I guess.”

“I mean,” you ponder. “I guess I’ll just watch TV too. And I should probably order food—I’m starving.”

“You haven’t eaten dinner?” Oscar asks, looking slightly alarmed.

“No,” you say, “but there’s no way you had time to, either.”

“No,” he admits.

An idea pops into your head. “Honestly, if we’re the only ones here…do you wanna just order a pizza or something? I totally get it if you’d rather just chill alone."

Oscar’s eyes widen slightly. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake. But then the corners of his lips quirk upwards. “I’m down,” he says.

By the time the pizza shows up, you and Oscar have established that both of you think pineapple on pizza is a sin, but ham is an absolute necessity. He tells you about Aussie pizza, which apparently comes topped with an egg. You wrinkle your nose.

“Hey, can’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” Oscar says defensively.

Then you find out that both of you are working your way through Killing Eve, so you run to the bathroom to (finally) put some pajamas on, and Oscar’s sitting on your bed, TV remote in hand. You climb in next to him, not too close, and try not to get distracted by the fact that he smells like clean laundry. Halfway through the second episode, your eyelids begin to droop.

“Tired?” Oscar whispers, jerking you awake.

“Huh? Oh…” Your head feels foggy. “No, I’m okay. We can finish the episode…”

The next time you open your eyes, startled, the light is still on and you have no idea what’s going on in the show. You look over to your right. Oscar is slumped over with his eyes shut, mouth slightly open, breathing lightly. Out cold.

“Oscar,” you whisper. His eyelids flutter.

“Oh my god,” he says, looking disconcerted. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

You laugh. “I think we both did.”

Oscar slides down so he’s fully horizontal, and rolls to face you. “In that case,” he murmurs sleepily, “how do you feel about not kicking me out tonight?”

You’re so drowsy you can hardly think. All you know is that it’s nice and warm under the covers, and Oscar looks pretty damn comfortable too. “I’m okay with that,” you say softly.

Oscar reaches out with a muscular arm, switches off the lamp on the bedside table, and faces you again with a yawn.

And just like that, you both fall asleep.

A ribbon of sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains wakes you up the next morning. You half-open your eyes to three freckles dotting a pale neck, a soft white t-shirt against your cheek.

What the—

You shoot away instinctively. The t-shirt wrinkles as its owner stirs. Oscar opens his eyes blearily. “What the—” he echoes, looking totally frazzled.

The events of last night suddenly come flooding back to you. Oscar returning your helmet, eating pizza together, watching Killing Eve, falling asleep next to him…

The realization seems to dawn on him at the same time. You look at each other and laugh, a little awkwardly.

“I must’ve mistaken you for my pillow,” you say apologetically.

“I didn’t mind,” Oscar replies quickly. You gape at him, shocked, and he blushes. “Sorry, that sounded weird.”

“’s okay,” you mutter. “I guess we should get going.”

Oscar shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “Yeah…yeah. Thanks for letting me stay over. It was…fun.” He slips on his slides, gives you a long look, and disappears.

You feel dazed, unsure if any of this was real. Did Oscar mean what he said, about you inadvertently cuddling up to him in the middle of the night?

Shut up, you tell yourself. Did you see the way he left, so fucking quickly? He’s probably embarrassed that he stayed over. Don’t you dare start daydreaming about him now.

But no matter how many times you repeat it to yourself, you can’t shake the feeling of his chest against your cheek, his warmth. For the rest of the day, your eyes roam the paddock for the Australian driver. But Oscar is nowhere to be found.

Oscar was verifiably nuts. Bonkers. "I didn’t mind"…really? He really, truly had looked her in the eye and said that. He buried his head in his hands, perched on the edge of the little bench in his driver’s room. Groaned as he remembered the way her soft pink lips had parted in shock.

Truthfully, he remembered waking up briefly in the middle of the night to the feeling of her rolling over, nestling her face into his chest. Her hair smelled like jasmine and vanilla and something else he couldn’t quite place. Oscar had sighed and closed his eyes again, half-thinking it was all just a dream.

His reverie was interrupted by Lando all but kicking down the door.

“Bro,” he demanded, “why weren’t you at post-race last night?”

Oscar grimaced, bracing himself for the impending lecture of you need to get out more and live a little he was inevitably about to receive. “I was bringing one of the pit crew their helmet back to the hotel.” Not untrue.

Lando rolled his eyes so hard that Oscar wouldn’t have been surprised if they fell out of their sockets. “How kind of you. And how utterly fucking unnecessary.”

“I’m a nice guy,” replied Oscar, nonchalantly.

“She must’ve been hot,” Lando deadpanned.

Oscar immediately turned red.

Lando gasped. “No.”

“What?”

“You dirty, dirty dog!” Lando crowed gleefully. “Just returning a helmet, my ass. Who is she? Tell me!” he demanded.

Oscar couldn’t really see a way out of this. He muttered her name under his breath, hoping Lando would somehow not remember her. But the driver’s eyes flashed with instant recognition.

“I cannot believe,” said Lando in a low voice, “that Oscar Piastri picked up a girl the night of the GP. Without so much as going to a bar to do it.”

“Shut up.” Oscar gritted his teeth. “I didn’t pick her up. We didn’t even do anything…just sat there and watched TV.”

And slept together…just not like that, he added in his head silently.

Lando was staring at him, eyes slightly narrow. “What?” Oscar asked, feeling like he was being examined through a microscope.

“Are you into her?”

He felt his face grow warm again. He just shook his head.

Lando looked thoughtful. “So…you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out.”

Oscar felt a little like someone had kicked him in the stomach. “Ask her out?” he said weakly.

“Yeah, mate.” Lando flashed a smile. “She’s cute. I’ve been trying to get her to hang with me this whole week.”

“Why don’t you just ask her out now?” Oscar said, the words coming out a little more rudely than he intended. But it was true. It was unlike Lando to try to get to know someone before just shooting his shot.

“Chill, mate,” Lando said, a little suspiciously. “She’s not just, like, a girl in a bar, you know? And she’s also a papaya…ever heard of maintaining productive team dynamics?” He made air quotes.

“Uh huh,” said Oscar, dubiously.

Lando could do what he liked, Oscar told himself. After all, he was telling the truth—it’s not like anything happened. It wasn’t like he had some kind of claim over her, like she was his territory. And he remembered again, with a heavy sigh, that look of surprise on her face. Even if he did try to make a move…it never would have happened. Not for him.

Oscar decided that he’d do what he did best—and give her, and Lando, the space they probably deserved.

Weeks pass in a repetitive blur of travel, races, a post-weekend crash, repeat. You find yourself settling in to a routine, becoming more comfortable with the rest of the staff.

Except for Oscar. Since Bahrain, you’ve hardly seem him, only running to his car during races to make adjustments, occasionally seeing him in the hallway, exchanging only a polite nod. Neither of you ever mentions that night, of course. Oscar’s probably long forgotten by now. Spending real nights, ones involving long kisses and perhaps even something more, with who knows how many girls. Beautiful, confident, rich ones. Girls that didn’t spend most of their time with their hair in a messy bun under a papaya cap or a helmet, frantically scurrying around with jacks and wheel guns. Every race, you get better and better at tucking him away into a deep back corner of your mind.

At Miami, you casually mention to one of the guys on the pit crew that you have a penchant for CoD and Rocket League. Word must’ve travelled fast, because Lando corners you the very next day and demands you join him and some of “the boys” after FP2 to play a few rounds. You shrug in agreement, expecting to see a group of papayas on their laptops, but walk in to none other than Mercedes’ George Russell, and Williams’ Alex Albon, sitting cross-legged on a bed in Lando's hotel room.

George shakes your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he says primly. A proper British gentleman.

Alex, on the other hand, greets you with a warm, sunny smile. “Lando’s told us a lot about you.”

And then Oscar walks in, laptop tucked under his arm. Your heart immediately starts to pound. “Oh.”

“We have guests today,” trills Lando.

“Do you two already know each other?” George asks.

You look anywhere but at Oscar. “Yeah. We’ve chatted a few times.”

“Great!” Alex chirps cheerfully, and grins. “Charles is gonna be so mad we’ve subbed him out.”

“Oh—“ you stammer. Charles Leclerc? In Ferrari? “Wait, I don’t want you to kick anyone out because of me—“

“He’s just joking around,” laughs Lando. “We’ve all been annoyed with Charles. He’s been bailing on us left and right lately.”

George gives Lando a knowing look. “Since Max told him he’s been interested in learning some padel. Coincidence? I think not…”

You realize he’s talking about Max Verstappen. Suddenly, you feel like you shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be privy to this…gossip. Gossip about Formula One drivers. Lando must have really talked you up to his friends.

Oscar clears his throat subtly. “Wanna get on it? Or are you all too busy speculating on Charles’ love life?”

The boys roll their eyes good-naturedly, but fire up their computers. F1 drivers, you think. They’re just like the rest of us.

One day, as you’re busily blocking George’s car from scoring a goal, George calls you “Pastry’s girl.”

You yelp, temporarily dropping your defense. George seizes the opportunity to launch the soccer ball into your goal, accompanied by an evil cackle. Proper British gentleman, your ass.

“Don’t call me that,” you protest.

“Why not?” George grins. “We all know it’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

“All he does is talk about you,” singsongs Alex. “Oh, Alex, have you seen her today? D’you reckon she’d play with us tonight, Alex? How should I ask for her hand in marriage, Alex?”

You shove Alex hard, sending him toppling into George. “Feisty,” he smirks, rubbing his arm.

“That’s not true,” you plead. Alex and George just laugh, exchanging knowing looks. Infuriating.

“Pastry’s girl,” George teases again, and you stick your tongue out at him.

It’s impossible. George is just being a clown. When Oscar won’t even talk to you…

In Monaco, McLaren pulls off a 2-3 podium. You howl with laughter at the sight of Max yanking Lando’s collar and spraying the champagne right down his back, almost as soon as the last note of the Dutch anthem plays. Oscar meets your eyes, and without thinking you mime shaking up the bottle. And for the first time, he does, with a smile that you tuck away in the same corner that you’ve stashed the rest of him in. A smile that you let yourself believe was maybe meant just for you.

Lando, much like at Bahrain, makes a beeline for you after the podium ceremony, waving away eager reporters. He beams at you, and you can’t help but smile at his jubilation.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Congrats on P2,” you tell him.

“Feeling up to the post-race tonight?” he asks.

You’ve gone to a few now. It’s always a bit of a mixed bag. But the Monaco race was a little earlier in the evening, and it’s not like you’d have any company if you went back to the hotel…

“I suppose so.”

Lando plays with the zipper on his racing suit. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, making you feel a little uneasy.

“So…I wanted to tell you something.”

You look at him quizzically.

“Ah, well, the truth is...” Lando says, his fiddling intensifying, “I’ve always thought you were cute, and now I know you’re smart and funny and just, like, fun to hang out with.”

You don’t know why, but your eyes dart over to Oscar. He’s standing at the far end of McLaren’s paddock, smiling amicably for pictures, signing papaya hats, fielding questions from reporters. He doesn’t see you and Lando standing together.

“So.” Lando hesitates. “Will you go out with me?”

You steal another glance at Oscar. Let yourself imagine him saying those words. It would never happen.

Lando’s piercing blue eyes look at you earnestly, awaiting your response. You tear your gaze away from Oscar. Lando is handsome, and charming, and funny, and you think that maybe...maybe you could learn to love the other driver in papaya.

“Sure. Yeah…that sounds nice,” you tell Lando.

He grins from ear to ear, and takes your hand as he leads you away from the paddock, away from Oscar. He never sees you.

notes: wasp scene…poor lando 😂

sequel here! more fics here!

#f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #lando norris #lando norris x you #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #op81 #ln4 #is this deserving of a part 2 pls advise

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panelshowsource · 6 months

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sorry this is so long — i let my inbox back up a little but also some of these are so thoughtful and i hate not responding thoughtfully!

remember to block the tag 'long post' if you hate seeing long posts :')

first of all aww anon thank you so much and second of all you don't watch taskmaster? how can you stand following my blog if you don't? hahahahah especially during taskmaster season i feel so bad the blog ends up being like 70% tm even though if i could have it may way i'd never gif new content and just gif totally random old content like always hehehehehe but it's cute to me how many hog fans are in my inbox these days! i'll try and gif it more for you guys :)

and you should watch taskmaster!!! and come back and tell me what you think!! start with s1!!! it's on the masterpost linked in my bio!

idk anon you'd have to ask them that but generally they would consider themselves to be irish-american; i wasn't trying to make a statement about that when i said that i think new yorkers understand a person like ed, though i think it's far to say that even diasporic communities will retain (at least) a handful of characteristics and nuances from their homelands

yesssss we all love ed! i think a lot of us know him from mock the week and his bffship with dara (i have some of their travel buddy series on my non-panel show masterpost!), but of course he's also an accomplished standup!

actually, just last month in an exclusive with metro he said this:

It seems remarkable Ed hasn’t appeared yet in its 16 seasons. ‘They haven’t asked. If they had, I would,’ Ed said, with a dash of longing. ‘There’s really only one slot per series of someone answering my description,’ he mused. ‘We’re kind of the most overprescribed demographic in the industry. There’s no shortage of people who look and sound like me that are ahead of me in the queue for that slot.’ Even so, it would have been nice… Greg? Are you listening?

(ps. that article claiming 8 out of 10 cats is cancelled... 👀 don't get me wrong, i know it's been a couple years since it's been on, but afaik no cancellation was ever announced 👀)

i know a lot of people are very hung up on the fact david mitchell said he wouldn't do taskmaster — and i'm a sure there are a handful of others who either wouldn't or couldn't when they were asked (jack dee had a scheduling conflict back in the day, right? and alex still desperately wants him?) — but one thing that has been consistently reinforced for years, and especially since taskmaster moved to channel 4, is it is far and away the biggest, most in-demand opportunity amongst comedians and light entertainers (— on network television; of course, if you're standup, your own standup special on channel 4, netflix, whatever has gotta be number one, but i disgress). taskmaster is huge: everyone talks about how comedians play 100-seat rooms, go on taskmaster, and then BOOM sell out massive tours. the show can really change your life, so there is hardly a comedian who wouldn't go on if given the chance — especially someone like ed, who i had mentioned a couple months ago being of the jenny eclair variety (an opportunist; professional jealousy ain't no stranger). i know he's waiting for that damn phone to ring!

and i think he makes an incredible point that not many series are gunning for more than one straight white middle-aged man (though it's happened before, of course). actually, i was just thinking about how that role — the white, middle-aged, experienced senior comedian — is chosen; in almost every single case, it's a very famous comedian who will draw viewers and reinforce legitimacy (frank skinner, al murray, hugh dennis, bob mortimer, rhod gilbert, david baddiel, richard herring, lee mack, alan davies, dara, you get the point) or it's a comedian who alex, whether he's friends with them or not, really really likes (tim key, dave gorman, mark watson, tim vine, mike wozniak, i know they're well-known but even ardal o'hanlon and julian clary who alex personally loves). does ed fall into either of those categories? super famous ratings draw or one of alex's friends/comedy heroes? frankly...i'm not sure...and i think that may be what's keeping him mid-way down the list...

still, very cute of the journalist from this article to be gunning so hard for him to be on the show! i have to admit, i know it might seem like i'm biased because i like him, but i really really think he would be really really good on the show. imo — and it's just imo, people will disagree — the most important aspect of the best series of taskmaster is the banter. it's people who speak up, who fight, who tease, who want to win, who want laughs, who play off the audience, who make quick friends, who talk to greg, who talk to alex. ed TALKS. ed wants screen time. ed wants to fuck around. ed wants to win. so i think he would really take advantage of the format and i'd love to see it!

you are allowed to say i told you so! it was amazing! thanks for reading my bullshit, i tried to take it really seriously so i could just link to it any time someone asks me if i've seen it hahahah who was your fave contestant?

i could write a really long response to this because it's something i have — or could find lmfao — a lot to say about, but knowing this post is already gonna be long (hahah i hate myself) lemme try to boil my brain down

1) i covered my personal opinion of what makes the strongest series of taskmaster in my (very long) recent taskmaster nz s2 post; 2) recency bias — it's in the name! people are biased because it's recent [shrug]; 3) A LOT of people have not seen every series of taskmaster (gasp! i know...) so they won't have the full taskmaster uk canon in mind when they're making such claims; 4) there is a strong divergence between the comedy nerds who watch taskmaster for comedy and the light entertainment viewers who watch taskmaster for general pleasantness, and you gotta consider who you're talking to when you're listening to someone's opinion; 5) i think there's a very long convo you could have about the reticence of a huge faction of taskmaster fans to criticise the show/tasks/contestants/alex — which is why a lot of people like it and its community, because it's often an echo chamber of positivity — but maybe we won't have that convo now haha

^ me being concise!! wow never thought we'd see that day

yes totally anon! i'll make massive gifsets of all of them when the season ends, if that works? :)

wow interesting question! i know a few people who watch taskmaster on and off, and i definitely know people like you who enjoy the odd clip (why is it always bob mortimer on wilty lmfaooo), but otherwise i wouldn't say i spend too much time convincing people to watch stuff. wilty and taskmaster are pretty accessible, but a lot of panel shows are about the uk news, uk current events, have uk c-list celeb guests, etc, and i don't think people would be interested. plus, i have you guys!!! (i don't really have internet friends besides posting here and interacting with you guys :'))

not that long ago, i was at a dinner party and someone said, "have you seen that show taskmaster?" and ... do you know what it's like for me!!! ... i had to take a deep breath and say inside my head 'sarah be cool' and i finally went, "i have! fun show haha" and not start TWITCHING ... they were telling the people around us a little bit about it and getting some of the details wrong and i just sat there nodding like :) and didn't correct them bc being a know-it-all isn't cool and i didn't want to risk it 💀

it's too bad we don't have more of a light entertainment culture here, especially a comedian-driven one :(

(so random but speaking of light entertainment has anyone else been seeing michael barrymore all over tiktok? those kids say the funniest things clips are my wholeeeee fyp)

hahaha yesss we do know suzi around here!! though she's not been on many panel shows recently-ish so i probably haven't posted her in a while. if your fave taskmaster contestants are wide-eyed, smiley people who radiate optimism and go-get-em attitudes then suzi would definitely be the one!

did i mention rick edwards or is this just your sly way of bringing up a sexy man? ...i see you anon😏 he has the face of someone who should have been working on that big wall in games of thrones you know the one where jon tory scum snow ended up? that's a specific compliment but just trust me it's complimentary

i'm sorry about your heartbreak :( it's like me with whites, we've all got that one show :(

yesss it so is! <3

is it weird to imagine joe and mike woz in the same room or is that just me...

—

WATCH LINKS MASTERPOST / FAQ / TAGS / ASK

#a #long post

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thealmightyemprex · 11 months

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90's Pulp Movie Villains Ranked

SO I am going to be doing a series of rankings ,as I have been marathoing the Pulp superhero trend of the 90's .Why not start with my favorite topic ,the villlains...THis was hard in a sense,because I love all five of these baddies

5.Big Boy Caprice from Dick Tracy

The biggest mob boss in town and arch nemesis to Dick Tracy.I actually though going into this rewatch ,I thought he would be number one ....But looking at the other villains he fell to the wayside.I love how bonkers Al PAcinos performance is and his quirk of messing up qoutes and the makeup looks great but honestly I cant help but feel he is a wannabe of Jack Nicholsons Joker .He is fun though

4.Xander Drax from the Phantom

An evil powerhungry business man who wants to harnass the power of 3 magic skulls .On paper he is the weakest villain,going into this rewatch,I thought I was gonna put him dead last .The problem is the side villains are more intereresting ,like the pirate king Kabai Sengh and Quill who killed the Phantoms father,while Drax is just an evil rich guy ......Thank GOD for Treat Williams performance ,he is taking character description of evil 1930's capitalist and running with it .Not great but he is a ton of fun

3.Neville Sinclair from the Rockateer

A swashbuckling movie star who is actually a Nazi spy trying to get his hands on an experimental jetpack .NOw we get to the really interesting guys .While Big Boy and Drax were fun,theres a bit more to Sinclair .Being a dashing movie star he is charming but his villainy is motivated by a sense of desperation .Timothy Dalton is an actor who feels like he is right of the 1930's and 1940's ,so he is able to nail the deonair side while also being a legit menacing villain

2.Don Rafael Montero from The Mask of Zorro

A Spanish Governor who wishes to take over California ,but the big thing is he stole the daughter of Don Diego De La Vega AKA the original Zorro and had him imprisioned for 20 years .NOw what impresses me about Don Rafael is he couldve been a mustache twirly villain,just a hate sink as we root for Zorro to run him through....But they decided to give him nuanace .Oh he is still a villain who kills and enslaves innocent people ,but he has his own morals ,doesnt want children to see his crimes,and does very much care for his adopted daughter Elena .Stuart Wilson plays him with a sense of dignity and nuance one doesnt often see in a blockbuster bad guy of that era

1. Shiwan Khan from the Shadow

The last descendant of Genghis Khan(I know there are millions of descendants of that guy just roll with it ,its a movie ),Shiwan Khan is a wannabe conqueror who wishes to rule the world using his psychic powers and an atomic bomb.SO while DOn Rafael is a more nuanced villain,Shiwan Khan is a classic supervillain done REALLY well .Like the guys got a simple goal,he wants to rule the world,cause being descended from a great conquerer he wants to be a conqueror himself.A few things make him stand out ,one is John Lones charismatic performance,especially in his scenes with the Shadow .In classic villain fashion he is a dark reflection of the Shadow.....But of the Shadows past .The Shadow used to be a bad dude but has put his sins behind him to fight evil .Basically Shiwan Khan has all the powers of the Shadow and is what the Shadow would be like is he still pursued evil.What I love is Shiwan Khan actually admires the Shadows past and is diappointed he has turned good cause he really wants him to rule with him .He also reminds me of Kilgrave from Jessica Jones in how he uses his mind control powers to convince people to kill themselves who mildly inconvience him .With cool powers ,a good performance and a great dynamic with the hero ,I think Shiwan Khanis one of the most underrated supervillains in superhero movies and best villain of the 90's pulp movies trend

@ariel-seagull-wings @amalthea9 @angelixgutz @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @scarletblumburtonofeastlondon @princesssarisa @filmcityworld1

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 2 years

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Dracula Daily Thoughts From May 11-August 13:

May 11th

- I just realized I never actually got down my thoughts for this one, so I’m reading back from this point to refresh myself. As always, I really love Lucy’s voice as a narrator? She has such a clear personality from the first few sentences, and it’s so distinct from Jonathan and Mina’s narrative voices.

- Many jokes have already been made about how Lucy describes Seward but oh my god “Just fancy! He is only nine-and-twenty, and he has an immense lunatic asylum…” is SO funny. Yes, that’s very fancy.

May 12th

May 15th

- The description of the castle is lovely and atmospheric. The exploration, and focus on opening a single door itself has a Bluebeard-esque quality. I can’t recall if this is where he meets the brides later on, but if so, it would be appropriate.

- I also ove how accustomed to Dracula’s bullshit Jonathan is at this point. It’s simultaneously funny but also feels fairly realistic. It also makes his subtly hinted despair that much more poignant later on when he’s confronted with any sense of normalcy in the unknown wing of the castle.

May 16th

- Jonathan looking to Dracula for safety is heartbreaking and also an excellent choice. The captive narrative aspect of this segment is deeply fascinating to me and I like that touch of nuance there. Especially next to the commingling intimacy and violation of Dracula carrying him to bed and undressing him. And Jonathan’s realization towards the end of the entry that this room he hates, that is his cage, is also something of a safe haven.

- The brides!! I love them!!

- It’s very interesting how Jonathan seems to sense Dracula’s approach, and his fury, before he sees him or otherwise has reason to know that he’s in the room

- Very intriguing that the brides’ choice of argument is to speak of love. I think it can be read in a number of ways.

- Dracula giving them a baby to share for dinner is one of my favorite details tbh!

May 18th

- Jonathan finding the door shut again ramps up the Bluebeard imagery. It also seems to suggest that the brides only have the run of the single wing? Which is interesting.

May 19th

- Anything attributed to Dracula being described as “suave” is very funny. The actual entry is so grim though. I love seeing Jonathan’s thought processes as he considers how Dracula may respond to anything he might do. It may seem like an obvious thing but I like how it implies his prolonged captivity is affecting him, that he must consider these things at all. Idk it’s just something that I think might be overlooked in other stories.

- It’s also so interesting how they’re both still playing at him being Dracula’s guest. And the excuses he makes for why he’s requiring Jonathan to write these letters.

- “I know now the span of my life” is such a death knell of a line.

May 24th

- The tonal shift after Jonathan’s horrors is SO funny, oh my god.

-My boy Seward is so awkward, I love him so much 💖

- Quincey only breaking out the Texas slang to amuse Very British Lucy is amazing. I love it.

May 25th

- It’s very interesting that Seward recognizes his own apparent cruelty in how he treats Renfield, though at this time we don’t actually see how he actually does treat him. And the observation about selfishness vs selflessness feels like a Chekov’s gun to be revisited later

May 28th

- The slight hope that Jonathan may get word to Mina or someone to help him closely followed by the almost immediately dashing of that hope when it turns out the letters were given directly to Dracula is so much. And once again the play at cordiality.

May 31st

- It’s so interesting that Dracula seems to be punishing Jonathan for the letters several days later. I think he said his diary was in his clothes pocket, otherwise I would wonder what he’s even writing the entry on.

June 5th

- LOL at Renfield having a “love for animals.” This is very interesting on reread, because the different format and delayed entries do help to read it with fresh eyes. And not already knowing Renfield’s entire schtick, the way his character is introduced is fairly clever. Like obviously it’s leading somewhere but it absolutely does not prepare the reader for where it actually does go.

June 17th

- People from the outside, being so close, but Jonathan’s locked in his room :( Also I get the impression they’re probably going to be transporting Dracula’s dirt.

June 18th

- It’s very telling that Seward starts out his very first entry awhile ago with how dejected he is at Lucy’s rejection. And then all subsequent entries are just his work observations. This one doesn’t even have any opinions, it’s only focused on Renfield. It gives the impression that he does not want to engage with his own issues at all.

June 24th

- OH so Dracula wasn’t punishing Jonathan, he’s literally just going to use his stuff himself. Though I’m not sure I buy the explanation that he intends to wear his clothes to trick people into thinking they’ve seen Jonathan at the villages or something. I just can’t see clothing being *that* identifying, unless he’s intending to idk stay at inns or something and give Jonathan’s name? Regardless his growing dread, panic, and simultaneous resignation is so well done.

June 25th

- I like Jonathan’s increased focus on the goings on outside his window and the weather, it really adds to the the feeling that he’s trapped in his room, and that is his only outlet and connection with the outside world. It’s also cool to see him organically piecing together that Dracula is nocturnal, when at this point it’s just a genre (and novel) given.

June 29th

- I find Dracula’s interactions with Jonathan, and his dialogue much more compelling on this read. My usual opinion of the novel is that Dracula, himself, is the weakest character. I think I might still finish the book with that impression, especially since he’s going to have less dialogue going forward, if I recall correctly. But his individual interactions with Jonathan have been very intriguing. I think the delayed email format forces me to consider each entry and each scene individually, where my usual habit would be to read very quickly and to maybe lose some of the detail along the way. But this current read, I find him very effective as a captor that puts on a kind face. Which itself is the most unsettling possible choice imo. And him offering to let Jonathan go, with the clear implication that he wouldn’t survive being left out among wolves (or perhaps the brides even) is itself so cruel and I love it.

- I also remember reading some speculation that perhaps the vampires have already been feeding on Jonathan he either isn’t fully aware of it or simply hasn’t been writing it down. I think that’s definitely possible considering Dracula’s line “Tonight is mine. Tomorrow night is yours,” and that Jonathan thought the fair bride was familiar. But I could also read this line as Dracula saying he has one more night with Jonathan as his captive and then afterwards the brides can do as they please, as opposed to some kind of regular taking turns, long-standing feeding arrangement. Much to think about either way, both options are pretty bad.

June 30th

- Jonathan hitting Dracula in the head with a shovel 😭😭

- It’s also interesting that Dracula appears much younger now. I think Jonathan is a little vague on the topic but it sounds like Dracula drank from him in the night aka “tonight is mine” from the previous day’s entry. Which suggests that either he hasn’t drank from him before, or if he has it’s been smaller quantities. Could be he’s willing to be more reckless about amount now because Jonathan’s not meant to be long for this world lol. Though Jonathan hasn’t been complaining of any blood loss related physical weakness either. Could be Dracula’s change in appearance has more to do with sleeping in the soil?

July 1st

- Renfield’s first instance of fly eating rip

- It’s very funny of Seward to say “He has evidently some deep problem in his mind, for he keeps a little note-book in which he is always jotting down something,” in his own journal.

July 8th

- I always wonder at the longer times between entries. What made Stoker skip ahead? It’s interesting to consider

- I also love that Seward, who presumably has many patients, has just fixated on this one dude. Like it doesn’t seem like an ordinary professional way to go about things, I think he’s just fixated because he’s heartbroken and dejected and wants to poke this guy with a stick to see what happens

July 18th

- THE DEMETER MY BELOVED I adore this section as a self contained horror story. The concept of being trapped on open water with a monster and nowhere to run is so fucked it. The opening is fairly sad because the captain’s just like “okay I think we have a stowaway that’s spooking people, it’s weird but whatever.” He has no idea how bad it’s going to get oof

July 19th

- The famous kitten line! I love Renfield so much. I am wondering how he’s actually keeping his animals though. We’re told that he captures flies, spiders, then birds, but how? Do they just stay for the promise of food?

July 20th

- Seward’s absolute lack of response to Renfield most likely having eaten or at least killed his sparrows is wild.

- “It would almost be worth while to complete the experiment.” Literally why Seward.

- I also love that he has a full on Hannibal Lector moment, turning the fairly wild topic of Renfield attempting to cumulatively absorb lives and how he’s tallying that to his own heartbreak and situation with Lucy. Like. I don’t think these two things are that similar buddy.

- “If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there—a good, unselfish cause to make me work—that would be indeed happiness.” The monkey’s paw curls 😬

July 22nd

- I like the momentary respite aboard the Demeter. Where there’s the suggestion that maybe it’s not going to be that bad. Maybe Dracula’s just going to sleep for the majority of the way without causing too much destruction. (Which, obviously the answer is “no”)

July 24th

- The Demeter is basically just playing a long game of Werewolf. (or….. Among Us….)

- I also really like the, unintentional, juxtaposition between the frightened Demeter log and Mina’s very calm and cheerful entry.

July 26th

- Once again that element of “oh you have no idea how bad things are going to get” lends the entry so much dread. I wish we could see the letter Jonathan had sent though.

July 27th

- Lucy’s sleepwalking is very interesting because the juxtaposition of the Demeter logs make it very easy to keep track that Dracula isn’t even there yet. So I wonder if it’s just ordinary sleep walking, or idk maybe they can all sense the malevolent pall he’s bringing with him or something lol and it’s affecting her.

July 28th

- I love the general air of distress and how you can’t even tell what’s exactly Dracula’s fault. Everyone’s miserable and on edge regardless.

July 29th

- The very brief entries every day are so interesting because it really highlights how much time is passing and the growing panic aboard the Demeter.

July 30th

- The captain thinking they made it 😭😭

August 1st

- It’s such an interesting juxtaposition between the doom and gloom of the Demeter (once again) and Lucy and Mina’s fairly morbid conversation with Mr Swales. I wonder if the theme of pretty lies on tombstones (or I suppose after death) covering up a more sordid truth is going to come up again. It’s been awhile since I’ve read the novel in full and I don’t remember deception playing a huge part. Though it could be a metaphor for vampirism itself, where later when Lucy becomes one herself, she’s finally going to look healthy and whole despite being a monster? Idk!

August 2nd

- It’s such a slow and agonizing death for the Captain and the remaining what… one? crew member aboard the Demeter. They keep being picked off one by one, and they honestly might as well already be dead. They know there’s nothing saving them.

August 3rd

- Honestly so sad that the captain thinks it was his first mate that’s been killing people! Like no he’s telling the truth! There’s a vampire on board!

- I think Lucy’s odd behavior must already be altered by Dracula. There’s too much attention drawn to it and it’s too bizarre.

August 4th

- I loooove how the fear and dread is being built up around Dracula. It’s such a good way to make sure your villain is fucking terrifying. The captain only just seeing him for the first time and then not again is such a good moment.

August 6th

- Mina’s conversation with Mr Swales is so good. The way it opens on a fairly poignant note about death and not being afraid of it. And then the very sudden ominous shift. I think him looking to the horizon, and the sea, and claiming that death is on its way is honestly much more effective having already read the Demeter’s log entries. Very much the Hitchcock school of building suspense.

(Though even without the extra context, there’s been enough foreboding in Mina’s entries, and everything we already know from Jonathan’s that it still works in a different way. The fear of the unknown angle of the approaching ship’s description and how there’s clearly something up with it.)

August 8th

-“The searchlight followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw her, for lashed to the helm was a corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly to and fro at each motion of the ship.” I FORGOT ABOUT THIS?? WHY DID DRACULA DO THAT

- The Demeter’s entrance is so good though. I love it so much. One of my most favorite parts of the book.

- Okay I get the impression, because of the crucifix, that the captain must have tied himself to the wheel, maybe for fear of letting go in his sleep.

- I think there’s likely some sort of thematic significance to everyone immediately talking of who gets to claim the wreckage? Something something parasitic, even predatory behavior, drawing some sort of similarity to vampires? There is also the fact that it’s likely a cursed prize; the only thing we know for certain is onboard is Dracula and the crates of dirt that preserve his immortality. Alternatively, there’s the rather ominous mention that the property is “held in a dead hand,” which could certainly apply to Dracula himself and tie into the metaphor of a parasitic nobility/ruling class.

August 9th

- Incredibly wild to hear about the SPCA in a victorian novel, similar to the mention of the Salvation Army in an earlier entry

- It’s also hysterical the goodwill and concern these people have for the dog. That’s Dracula!

August 10th

- Oh noooo Mr Swales! I forgot he died!

- “Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely than other people do.” are… are you saying Lucy is an empath?

- “Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheeks than usual, and looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with her seeing her only in the drawing-room, I wonder what he would say if he saw her now.” ……Mina…. that’s gay.

August 11th

- The eeriness is so well done! It’s also so interesting to consider how the 1992 altered this scene. I’m comparing the book to it both because it includes the most number of 1:1 scenes, where other adaptations tend to fudge things even more, and also because I’m listening to the soundtrack while I read, so I’m thinking of it more lol

- “Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her body must have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace.” Mina…. you have some realizations you need to come to

- I also really like Mina thinking the telltale bite marks on Lucy’s throat were from her hastily using a safety pin to fasten a shawl lol.

August 12th

- “Seeing from his violent demeanor that he was English” 😭😭😭😭

- I did have a visceral reaction to hearing about Sister Agatha though. As chill as she is in the book, the name gives me BBC Dracula war flashbacks.

August 13th

- The bat!!! Poor Mina’s just like eh whatever anyway

- It’s very interesting though that Dracula makes a beeline for Lucy (and by extension Mina) I don’t think he particularly has reason to? Is it sheer coincidence?

#Ive been just adding to this incredibly long draft as I read lol #I’m so sorry it’s not letting me add a read more break #dracula #dracula daily #dracula spoilers #see how many times I will repeat interesting in one post #i ramble sometimes #long post

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audioaujom · 8 months

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(6) Ex Knows Best

LTWF Hub, < prev, next >

The aforementioned things that inevitably go wrong from the initial notes go wrong here. Everyone has a bad time, and things don’t end looking up for anyone. I absolutely love when I'm writing and my own stuff gives me ick lmao Sorry not sorry please enjoy the horrible hurt and angst !

Word Count: 2837

Chapter TWs: Violence and Injury, Mentioned Past Abusive Relationship, Stalking, Manipulation, Panic Attacks

Something was wrong.

Sitting at his desk, Patton couldn’t shake an awful feeling of impending doom as he tried to work on his philosophy essay. Roman was casually flopped on his bed, quiet music playing from his phone as he idly scrolled on it. Patton couldn’t focus on the paper due to both his slowly mounting anxiety and general boredom, thankful for the distraction of his phone going off until he flipped it over to check and saw a message from an unfamiliar number.

————————————

From: (786) 555-1436 102.

Better hurry!!

————————————

A hand flew up to his mouth as his breath caught in his throat, nearly throwing his phone away from him as he stumbled back out of his chair at the implication.

“Pat?” Roman’s question was lost on him, Patton not listening as he slid his shoes on and all but threw himself through the dorm door and down the hall, his stomach sinking with every step.

Patton waited impatiently for the elevator as a confused Roman took the chance to shoot a concerned text to Virgil, recounting the way Patton had checked his phone and then bolted.

Patton’s foot tapped nervously on the tile, leaving the building as soon as he could to run to Thaw Hall. The building was less than 10 minutes away from Patton’s dorm, but it felt like he was running for hours by the time he finally rounded the top corner of steps and dashed into 102 without so much as looking around. “What did you do to him?!”

There were five boys standing around Logan—three of which he recognized as Alex, Bailey, Kylar, and two that were unfamiliar—with the one at the front grinning wide and holding a large bat. The two new boys; however, were vaguely familiar, the one holding a bat matching Roman’s description of one of his most annoying classmates, Remus—the shock of white hair falling in his eyes recognizable from all the creepshot photos Roman had shown him. He couldn't remember the name of the other, not bothering to wrack his brain for it as he zeroed in on Remus’ bat.

“See, I told you I could get him here.” Remus snarked to the air behind Patton, the latter confused as he hadn't seen anyone else in the room.

“Who are you—?” Patton’s confused question and turn to look behind him were cut off simultaneously by a hand suddenly grabbing the back of his neck, him flinching involuntarily from the contact.

But the only one who used to do that is—

“Hello again, my dear.”

“Janus?” Patton froze, cold fear washing over him at the familiar voice. He couldn’t help but shiver as a hand ran down over the top few notches of his spine to grip one of his shoulders. “How did you find me?”

“Now, is that any way to greet your lover? And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” “...lover?” Logan asked, voice quiet and confused, but none of the others paid him any mind.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Patton couldn’t will himself to move out of Janus’ grip, gritting his teeth together as he attempted to sound assertive.

“Well... Your friends here on campus are quite lovely.” Janus’ free hand gestured in front of Patton from over his shoulder at the five standing around Logan—who all wave. “When I told them about my predicament… how’d you just run off and left me behind, they were more than happy to help me find you.”

“You…” Patton shook his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to try and calm some of his fried nerves. “I got that, but… how did you know I was here?”

“All it took to find you was a quick look through some of your social medias.” Janus explained breezily, Patton not even needing to see him to picture the sinister smirk stretched across his face. “Plus a few of your friends’.”

“You stalked me?!”

“It’s not stalking if you weren’t hiding it.”

“Okay, but I was!” Patton finally jerked forward, whirling around to face an unnervingly calm Janus, crossing his arms and fighting down the tears threatening to form in the corners of his eyes. “I went private online and blocked every alt account you made after we broke it off.”

“But is that really what you want, Patton?” Janus feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart and giving Patton his most pleading eyes. “For us to be over?”

Despite the disgust and anxiety sloshing around in his stomach, Patton couldn’t manage to get his voice steady even as he choked out a barely affirmative, “Ye—Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Janus took a step forward, Patton stumbling back to keep him from getting any closer again. “You don’t sound so sure, and we were so happy…”

“I know better now than to put up with your manipulative crap, Janus.” Patton’s response was met with a humorless laugh, Janus easily closing the remaining gap to be face to face with him again.

“Oh come on.” Gripping Patton’s shoulders a little harder than necessary, he offered, “Why don’t you and I just go somewhere more private to talk?”

“No.” Patton stood firm, surprising himself as he managed to steady his voice. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t be like that, my love. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your little pal, would you?”

“...you wouldn’t.”

“I think you being here is enough proof that I would.” Janus shrugged nonchalantly, the glare he sent Logan’s way bitter and unamused. “Besides, it’s not like it feels pain or emotions or anything like that. You’d be better off with me than some… stoic tin can.”

It must really say something if I prefer Logan’s company to yours. Patton thought sourly, shaking his head to clear his mind. “It’s not going to happen, alright? You should really leave.”

“Oh, then I guess you won’t mind if I ask my new acquaintances to wreck your new boy toy.”

“Wait, what—?” Patton looked just in time to see Bailey and Kylar each grab one of his arms, holding him in place even as he struggled. Remus waved cheekily as they all turned to face him, him adjusting his grip on the bat with a deranged smile. “Whoa, hey, there’s no need to—!”

Any other protest he had was cut off by Remus swinging the bat wildly for Logan’s face, a hard crack resounding as Logan just managed to get his arms up to partially block the swing. An almost imperceptible look of regret—pain?—passed across his face as Remus smirked, Alex grabbing and twisting his arms away from his face.

“Oh? You want to try to defend yourself this time? How cute.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed into a glare as Alex pinned one of his arms down against the desk, still attempting to pull away as he gestured with his head towards a panicking Patton. “This is wrong. You’re hurting him.”

“Duh. That’s the whole point, R2-D2.” Remus commented blandly, before smashing the bat down onto Logan’s exposed arm with careful aim to hit hard against the panel on his wrist, causing Logan’s hand to spaz. His fingers twitched and sparked, before locking in a strange half open position as Remus grinned and moved to swing the bat hard at the other panel on his upper arm and cause the whole limb to fall limply off the desk as Alex let go.

“Now, isn’t this fun?” Janus snickered, watching gleefully as Patton tried in vain to pull away from the two holding him.

“Stop it!” Patton was yelling, unable to look at anything but the scene unfolding in front of him as Remus and Whitney—as he finally recalled the remaining boy’s name to be—worked their way up the panels on Logan’s other arm as he tried unsuccessfully to grapple the bat away from Remus.

With both of his arms out of commission—twitching helplessly at his sides—Logan looked worriedly at Patton, the distraction giving Remus the chance to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him. He thudded into the floor, tears springing up to run down Patton’s face as Whitney and Alex hauled his damaged body back onto his feet.

“Oh, darling… Don’t cry. You know how much I hate seeing you cry.” Janus gently wiped the tears off of Patton’s face from behind him, before leaning in to whisper menacingly, “Besides, it’ll just motivate them further.”

“Please, just stop!” Patton let his head drop with a cry, catching one last glimpse of the bat thudding into the side of Logan’s head, his eye on that side flickering out.

“Oh, come on, don’t you want to watch?” Janus mocked, one of his hands snaking up the back of Patton’s head to grip a fistful of his hair and yank his head back up. More tears misted in Patton’s eyes from the pain, Janus using his hold to keep him looking towards a damaged Logan and the others. “After all, this is your fault.”

“No, I—! Please…” Patton winced out, tightly closing his eyes only for Janus to tug at his hair until he opened them again to see Logan backing away from the three as his remaining eye darted around anxiously.

“Then what do you say?”

Patton started to shut his eyes again, but instead just diverted his gaze to the floor at his feet as he whispered a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t really believe you, my dear.” The grip on his hair seemed to tighten even further as Patton refused to look up from the carpet, Janus tutting disapprovingly under his breath. “It doesn’t sound like you mean it.”

“I’m sorry, please…” Patton tried again, lifting his eyes up to see another smack of the bat land hard against Logan’s side. “Just stop it, okay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know…”

Remus jammed the end of the bat right into the center of Logan’s chest, him stumbling back blindly into the desk behind him, his back slamming hard into it as he folded over backwards. His one working eye looked almost glazed as he tried to glance around, his whole body locking up for a moment before he could move again just in time to slide to the floor at the feet of a smirking Remus.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry!” Patton tried again, louder. He was no longer struggling against the two, sobbing hard as all three started kicking Logan’s body. One particularly hard kick that landed against the side of Logan’s neck caused him to seemingly short circuit—his whole body lit up with blinding sparks as his other eye shut off and his whole body fell still. “Janus, please!”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“Whoa, what in the fuck is going on here?”

“Roman?” Patton asked softly, his voice shaky and a little hoarse.

Everyone froze at the same time, turning to look at the now open door as Roman crossed his arms and scanned the scene: falling first on Logan—who was still unmoving on the floor—and then Patton—who could barely make his figure out through his tears.

“Alright, I’ve decided that whatever this ruckus is, it’s unacceptable. You all better stop before I intervene.” Roman threatened from the doorway, his face unreadable.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Remus mocked, swinging the bat he was holding menacingly.

“You asked for it, then.” Roman shrugged easily, uncrossing his arms to crack his knuckles. “But remember, I did politely ask you to stop. Since you ever-so-nicely ignored me, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.”

Remus didn’t get the chance to utter any sort of snarky reply before Roman threw a hefty punch at his face, his whole body following through as Remus went careening for the floor. Whitney and Alex jumped in surprise, looking at Roman and backing away as Remus whistled—impressed—and attempted to push himself back up off the floor.

“Wow! What a right hook!”

Roman scoffed, kicking up into Remus’ stomach as soon as it was off the floor, winding him and hopefully keeping him down for good. “Shut up, would you?”

“Right on.” Remus wheezed, giving him a dizzied thumbs up before collapsing as Roman’s cold gaze turned to find Janus.

Janus, Bailey, and Kylar all let go of Patton at the same time, letting him instantly stumble over to Logan’s motionless form on the floor.

“Are we going to have a problem?” Roman demanded, Janus glancing between him and Patton a few times before smiling curtly.

“No, of course not.” He said breezily, turning to leave. “Lovely to meet you, Roman.”

All six of the boys disappeared in an instant, leaving Patton and Roman alone with Logan’s still unmoving body.

“Virgil, I— we— we need to—!” Patton stumbled out in a panic, Roman hesitating before lightly hugging his roommate to try and ground him.

“He's on his way, Patton. Breathe.” Roman instructed softly, breathing deeply in hopes Patton would follow along. “I texted him as soon as you ran out. It's okay now.”

The wait for Virgil was agonizingly slow, Patton barely leveling his breathing off to a fast hyperventilation as Virgil came sliding in through the doors with his backpack haphazardly slung on.

“Pat!” Virgil ran over, eyes locked onto his friend as Roman kept trying to keep him breathing evenly. “Are you okay?! Roman said you freaked and he followed you here and—!!”

“Logan, he—!!” Patton pushed down a fresh sob to gesture at Logan’s body, before he broke down into frantic tears again.

“Oh. Oh! Shit, okay, hold on.” Virgil awkwardly looked between the two before caving and going over to Logan, opening his backpack and spilling the contents as he lifted Logan's head onto his lap to get a better angle on him. “Let me see if I can get him back online.”

“What happened, Patton?” Roman asked as Patton finally calmed down seeing Virgil help Logan, him nodding a few times and taking in some deep breaths.

“I don’t… I don't remember…” Patton admitted, wiping at his face and trying not to relapse into sobs. “After he grabbed me it's all kinda fuzzy…”

“He?” Virgil stopped in his once over of Logan, narrowed eyes meeting Patton’s.

“The kids, they… they had a bat, and… Logan hit the desk… they kicked him in the head and—!” Patton cut himself off as his tears welled up again, shaking his head hard to try and keep them at bay.

“Oh fuck, they must've hit the panel on the back of his neck.” Virgil tried to keep his outward panic to a minimum, but the other two clearly understood how bad the situation was as he instructed, “Keep him breathing, Ro.”

“I got him, you get Logan.” Roman nodded, rubbing gentle circles into Patton’s back and taking slow, deep breaths for him to follow.

Patton watched Virgil work through bleary eyes, not quite sure what he was doing while working with very fine tools on the back of Logan’s neck, until Logan suddenly powered back on and sat up straight.

��You back with us, Logan?” Virgil asked hopefully, watching the android blink slowly several times before nodding.

“Yes, I am back to full function. Thank you.” Logan said to Virgil, before quickly turning worried eyes to where Patton was slumped against Roman. “Patton! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Logan. I’m okay.” Patton smiled unconvincingly, Roman, Logan, and Virgil sharing a unconvinced look.

Virgil reached out to grab one of Patton’s shoulders, softly asking, “Are you okay to talk about what happened?”

“He’s here, Virge.” Is the only answer Patton gave, explaining nothing.

“He?” Virgil prompted gently, but Patton only shook his head and refused to speak further.

“Can I answer?” Logan spoke after a moment, watching Patton nod with earnest eyes. “I believe Patton called him Janus. He said he was—”

“JANUS?! HERE?!” Virgil immediately exploded, Roman jumping as Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. “I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!”

“Virge?” Roman asked, concerned.

“That's… Can I tell them?” Virgil turned to Patton the way Logan had done just moments before, eyes blazing but shoulders mostly relaxed. Patton nodded again after a moment, before lunging forward at Logan—who pulled him into a hug. “He's Patton’s manipulative stalker piece of shit ex, to put it simply.”

“He did have that shifty look about him.” Roman commented, attempting to lighten the heavy mood.

“I think I understand what happened a little better, then.” Frowning, Logan slowly—and awkwardly—snaked his arms around Patton, who buried himself further in his shoulder.

“We can talk more about this later.” Virgil sighed, unclenching his tight fists to pack up his bag. “Let's get you home, Pat.”

“You’re safe now.” Roman smiled warmly, getting to his feet as Virgil did the same. “We’ll handle him, so don't worry.”

“Things are alright now. I am okay.” Logan soothed, letting go of Patton to get to his feet.

Patton got up to shaking legs with a hand from Logan, managing a watery smile at his assembled friends. “...okay.”

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gavinom123 · 1 year

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3 + 11 + 13 + 16 ?

You didn't specify a fandom, so I'll just pick ones I feel passionate about LOL

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

FUCKK it has to be after Muu's MV came out, I saw someone say she faked her T1 MV... which is literally impossible... The Milgram fandom lost all of its reading comprehension the second the series became more character studies than murder mystery and you can see it in the T2 results... her whole MV is her lying to herself about how she felt about her murder and her ex-friends/bullies... she doesn't want to see herself as a victim, so since her MV isn't presenting her as one since it reflects her mental state, suddenly she is lying about something that she literally has no control over.

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

Honestly... not too many? I pretty much only filter for spoiler reasons, I'd rather know whos reblogging/posting things that make me uncomfortable so I can block them rather than filtering it out of my dash. I think I have like 4 spoiler filters up currently

13. worst blorboficiation

I already answered this for WH, so I'll answer this for ZENO now! The way people characterize Kuro in a lot of the fandom really rubs me the wrong way.. They tend to reduce him down to solely his need for love, and not only that people tend to put that focus on specifically his need for love from Aki. While I understand it's a significant part of his character, it's also something he grows past in his development, and I see a lot of focus on it only after his Zeno activates but before Aki regains his own memories so it's just not to my taste to be completely honest. I'd love to see deeper analyses into the nuances of his character outside of his search for affection, but honestly I'm not sure if we'd get it from this fandom LOL. I would write analyses myself, but I'm more of the passively absorb every aspect to this character type than "ah yes he acts like this because of this aspect of his past here is the evidence" character essay type...

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

OH MY GOD I FINALLY HAVE AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT THIS WHY DOES EVERYONE LIKE QKAI. Like it's cute, don't get me wrong, but I dont understand the basis for it outside of Q-taro being one of the people to bring Kai up again later. They don't have like any super significant interactions together, and it ends up feeling a lot like a case of them being the leftovers of pairing everyone else off with one another...

Questions! (Still taking these its nice to chat abt fandom opinions :) )

#gav rambles #gav answers #zeno spoilers #sorry for the fandom rants i am very passionate about the things i like #again no hate to anyone who likes the things mentioned here! im just particular abt things :)

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weneedhelp · 3 months

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lilac does give off hyuck psycho vibes (srry) and maybe even jungwoo/chenle, i think bc everyone just loves you and you're a happy pill that i wouldn't doubt if you stanned these fellas

niwa seems like a ten/winwin/renjun stan solely because she seems calm but is actually very wild and keepa order more often than not OR when she makes a joke/jab at someone it does numbers on everyone

loki is like a yangyang/haechan/johnny stan cause yeah she's chaotic and i feel like these three are good at outsmarting people and i get big brain vibes from her

joy is like a jeno/jaemin/mark/hendery stan cause they're chaotic but loveable and isn't that her essence, they're always making someone laugh and are maybe awkward sometimes but they care and show it through their actions

esa gives yuta/mark/taeyong/jaehyun? vibes, i haven't seen her active yet but from what you guys say she's sort of quiet, mysterious, brainy, maybe even feels like home, very baby, and iirc deadpan, too? and you guys describe her as this ethereal being (all of you are) and i see these four being the best fit

wanted to clear out the asks and saw this! and anonie, i must say you are very spot on with your descriptions for the girls! also i added my own versions, and it got a bit too long so yeah, read under the cut!

lilac is very homey, very motherly and genuinely is such a happy pill. like honestly, hearing her laugh will immediately add ten years to your lifespan bc she is just that contagious with her happiness. i'd actually say haechan-johnny combo is how i'd best describe her, maybe with a dash of ten too, bc the way conversations take a turn sometimes when she talks about hyuck 😭 also omg taeil and taeyong !!! bc they are also as motherly as lilac and are always down to join on the shenanigans their kids do

niwa is honestly such a sweetheart, like y'all can't even imagine, but she will also not hesitate to throw hands or exchange a few words if you mess with her loved ones, a very family/friends-oriented babes. i'd say yangyang-renjun for her, where renjun is her serious side when the situation calls for it while yangyang is her playful side whenever we have fun. she has the perfect balance between it all, and also i'd add jungwoo to the mix bc she is very soft-spoken too!

joy is mark, hands down. she's such a hard-worker and juggles all the things life throws at her, literally just like how sm puts mark in every sub-unit. she gets the job done always, even if it's a second before the deadline. also, jeno too bc of the way she loves, like she doesn't do it very openly and her love language is teasing and bullying. it sounds bad but i promise it's comes from her heart and if you are a close person to her, you can just feel the love and joy radiate off her.

esa is jaehyun, for sure. her vibes are all "i'm here for a good time, not a long time" and jaehyun gives out that energy as well. also, taeyong as well bc she is a lovely goofball with such good music taste, like literally she is so cool. she's like that senior at school you fall in love with bc she has that charming and charismatic persona with like gallons of coolness. this girl single-handedly made me like rock music and i bet she doesn't even know it.

forever and always grateful to have met these girls. we always say that the universe knew putting us together would literally make the world break so that's why we were scattered all around the world. these are the people i have always wanted in my life and i am not religious but whenever these girls are there for me, i thank whoever is up there for have giving me the opportunity to meet them.

#loki takeover 💃✨

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

For You

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You and Minho are a little more than just an heiress and her bodyguard, but you know your parents would never approve of a relationship like this unless...

Warning: anxiety, injury

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x bodyguard!Minho

He is buttoning up his shirt after a warm shower when his phone buzzes. He smirks at your caller ID on the screen before picking it up. “What, miss me alr—”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you.”

Minho drops his smile and grips his phone tighter at the tone of your voice. Panic bubbles in his chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just… out right now, and it got dark a little quicker than I thought. I know you’re off the clock on Sundays, but—”

“It’s okay. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?”

“I’m near the 7-11 near your house. The one with the blue umbrellas in front.”

“Okay. Go inside for now. I’m coming.”

“Alright. Thank you, Minho. And sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s my job. Call again if something happens before I get there.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”

Minho doesn’t even bother drying his hair and dashes out the door. He runs and runs, unease crawling up his skin, but when he sees you through the window of the convenience store, his stomach completely drops. There you stand with your shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around yourself, and knees bowed in, a stark contrast to the proud heiress he is used to seeing.

The worker who is leaning over the counter seems to be saying something as Minho bursts in. “If you aren’t buyin’, pay for your loitering with cha number, sugar.”

Minho slaps a bill on the counter and takes a bag of chocolates. “There. She’s a customer,” he hisses. Turning to you who looks shocked by his sudden appearance, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod dumbly.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you to the door, using himself to shield you from the eyes of the worker.

He thought you’d relax a little after getting away from the creep, but your posture remains closed off. He wants to ask why but does not know if you’re ready for that yet. Instead, you break the silence first.

“Thank you for coming, and sorry for ruining your Sunday.”

“Y/N, you know I’m always ready to be by your side.”

He looks for clues. You have on a deep blue dress, minimal jewelry, and light makeup. In other words, effortlessly enchanting, but that’s not important; you went to something fancy but not overly formal. A first date? Minho’s heart starts racing at the thought. He needs to know. “What were you doing out here by yourself?”

You bite your lip. Instead of answering, you tug on the cuff of his shirt gingerly with the tips of your fingers. “I-is it alright if I don’t talk about it?”

His chest breaks at how fragile your voice is. He stops in his tracks and looks at you.

“I-is it not?” you squeak.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why are you—”

“You look like you need this.”

He steps up to you under the streetlight and wraps you into a hug, gently stroking your back.

“Minho!” you gasp. “What if someone sees?”

You’re an heiress. Your choices of men are Chan from JY Group, Changbin from Seo Enterprise, or even Jisung from Han Motors. Lee Minho the bodyguard is definitely not on that list even if your heart is taking flight from this small gesture of endearment.

“Why does that matter?” he hushes you.

“If Father finds out, you’d lose your job.”

“I’d rather that than not be able to be here for you when you need it,” he says plainly and holds you tighter when you try to push him away.

Gradually, he feels you give up and give in to his embrace. Finally, he feels you begin to shake as tears escape your eyes.

“It was so scary,” you whimper. “I was so scared.”

Your words are like hammers battering his chest,making it impossible to breathe. He holds you tighter and speaks quietly, letting the vibration of his voice calm you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

You arrive at the gates of your house, an empty bag of convenience store chocolates between your fingers.

“Minho?”

“Yes?”

“Father can’t know what happened. Are my eyes swollen?”

He turns you by the shoulder so he is directly looking into them. “Not at all. They’re—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your father approaching, and cuts his sentence short. “Good evening, Mister L/N,” he greets.

“Ah, Minho. What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“I found Miss Y/N around my neighborhood and thought it best to escort her home.”

“You found her around your neighborhood?”

“Yes, I was just taking an evening stroll.”

“Evening stroll?” he echoes yet again. The old man looks at the younger one’s wet, unbrushed hair.

Minho can’t do a thing but cough nervously, knowing how weak his lie is.

Thankfully, your father does not comment further. He looks between the two of you and smiles to himself. “Alright. Since you’re here, you should escort her all the way to the house.”

“Yes, sir,” Minho bows. When he straightens up again, he grins at you. “Shall we go?”

You nod with a smile of your own. “Thank you, Minho. Really.”

“Like I said, I’m always here for you.”

He cheekily takes your hand in his and hides it behind his back in case your father turns around.

“Oh, and Y/N?” he whispers.

“Hm?”

He swipes an eyelash that fell with your tears from your cheek. “They’re not swollen; they’re beautiful.”

Your father coughs loudly in front of you.

The following week, you accompany your parents to a showing of the latest models of Han Motors. Of course, this means Minho is to lurk around in the shadows and follow you all night. At least, that’s what he’s supposed to do instead of being dragged out to the main floor by you to discuss which refreshment tastes the best.

“You know, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so,” Minho teasingly whispers into your ear.

“Shush and try this.” You roll your eyes and stuff a truffle-topped cracker between his lips.

Minho chews for a moment before commenting, “Not great. Better than the cherry thing earlier, but the truffles your uncle gave you last time was better.”

You take one and mull over it yourself. “You’re right. This one’s too sweet.”

“Like someone I know,” he sighs off-handedly.

You snort. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about me or yourself.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m worthy of being called ‘sweet?’”

“Good gracious,” you roll your eyes.

The two of you have tried less and less to suppress your flirting. Thankfully, most of your comments are made in indecipherable whispers or behind closed doors, so most people haven’t noticed, but those who did definitely have a thing or two to say about it.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice breaks your conversation.

You walk quickly past displays of shiny luxury cars to where she is. “Yes, Mother?”

She looks past you at Minho. “This does not involve you.”

Without missing a beat, he bows. Before he leaves though, you flash him a hand signal. Stay nearby.

“You should meet the Hans’ son tonight,” your mother tells you after Minho is gone from her sight.

“Mother, I’ve already met him at my birthday party last year.”

“Yes, but this time, meet him as a man like you’re supposed to, you understand?”

“Mother, Jisung already has his eyes on—”

“Madam Han!” your mother calls before you can even finish your sentence. You close your eyes to roll them and let your shoulders slouch, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

The said woman walks over, her son in tow to help his mother introduce new cars. “Madam L/N! It is good to see you.”

First the sweet talk.

“Your face is smaller every time I see it. How do you do it?”

“Oh, you flatter me!”

Then an indirect indication of true intentions.

“It’s the truth! You simply must tell me your secrets. In the meantime, let’s have our children play amongst themselves.”

Madam Han quickly understands her implication. “Of course! They must be bored being around us old ladies. Jisung dear, take care of Miss Y/N, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mother,” he promises obediently.

You watch as the two women walk away in a fit of faux compliments. Despite leaving the two of you alone, you know they have hawk eyes on you to make sure you do as they intend.

“So,” you decide to play along, “we, uh, meet again, Jisung.”

“Yep.” He clasps his hands in front of him and looks around nervously. Not much of a conversationalist, you note.

“Tell me about this car.” You motion towards a blue SUV nearby.

“Ah, yes!” You can see the boy light up from having something he can actually talk about. “This is the Model YG. It is a family car, but it certainly does not leave out the power and class of a…”

You soon tune him out. You both know you have no interest in cars anyway, and he’s just glad to have something to fill the silence with. Your eyes begin to wander, and you catch sight of something darting around. You first pass it off as your imagination, but when you see it again, alarms go off in your head.

You grab the arm next to you. “Minho.”

Jisung looks at you inquisitively. “I’m Jisung.”

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I need to find my bodyguard. I think there’s something—”

Just then, a low whistle cuts through the air. You look up and see the giant chandelier above you beginning to tilt.

“Run!”

Unfortunately, you are right at the center of the whole structure. You bolt away right behind Jisung, but there is just no way your stupid heels can keep up with his powerful strides. There isn’t much time. You aren’t going to make it. You can hear the lower hanging parts of the light structure crashing and shattering when someone tackles you to the floor, shielding you with his own body.

“Minho!”

He lets out a hallowed gasp as a metal rod strikes him in the back. He struggles to regain his breath but keeps his eyes trained on you.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you repeat, knowing that’s what he wants to hear most.

It’s your turn to worry about him now as he continues struggling to breathe. You help him sit upright, trying to avoid touching the million shards of glass impaling his skin.

“Miss L/N!” You turn and see Jisung calling you from the perimeter of the mess. Thankfully, he does not look too scathed. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m—”

“Get away from my daughter!”

Amidst the panic and army of security running about, everyone looks up at your mother fuming on the second floor. It is only then you realize how intimate your position with Minho is. You’re seated between his legs, turned towards him, and he has his arms around you, using your body to press on his spazzing diaphragm.

A new voice directs everyone’s attention. “Are you crazy?” It is your father this time, pulling his wife away from the railings. “He just saved her! What are you doing?”

“Jisung was supposed to save her!”

“Jisung saved himself! Can’t you see? Minho’s the one who’s willing to risk himself for our daughter. What more do you have against that?”

You blush under the eyes your parents’ conversation has put on you, but Minho does not back down. He keeps you covered as you shrink in embarrassment.

“Jisung just needs more time with her!” your mother continues. “He’ll learn to love her!”

“Like you ever learned to love me? How many years have we been married? How many years have we tried to learn to love? Do you really wish the same thing for our daughter?”

A wave of gasps ripple through the building. Security has caught the criminals who sabotaged the convention, but no one cares. You can feel your stock prices dropping. You and your family are going to be on the front cover of every gossip magazine tomorrow. You struggle to find something— anything— to distract the crowd from what was just said. You need something big— something even bigger than your father’s confession.

In the midst of your dilemma, it is Minho who speaks first. “Let’s date.”

Another gasp echoes across the crowd. At least that did the trick.

“What are you doing?” you whisper-scream at him.

“What?” he says not-so-quietly. “Your father’s giving me permission. We might as well make it official. I promise to protect you and cherish you for the rest of our lives. What do you say, Y/N?”

Jisung is the first to start chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” and is soon joined by the rest of the party-goers. Your mother nearly faints and your father beams proudly.

“Okay,” you finally agree.

“Then kiss me,” he prompts, and you do.

#lee know #lee minho #stray kids #minho fic #lee know fic #stray kids fic #lee know imagin #stray kids imagine #lee know fluff #minho fluff #stray kids fluff #bodyguard!minho #bodyguard!lee know #stray kids bodyguard #fem reader #anniversary special #20210817

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hisredhysteria · 2 years

Note

ahhdjhghjkl I was going to request headcanons for the all the akudama, but I completely forgot what I wanted lmaoo. So may I request (based off your most recent work) just more headcanons or a story of Cutthroat trying to cook. (also somewhat related: do you think Cutthroat would be into cannibalism, he does consume blood in the show sometimes so?)

TW: Cannibalism, blood, graphic description

Note: I love that you asked this question because I too like to wonder about it... He did say that he likes his marshmallows to look all bloody like brains....and based on that I'd say, it's a possibility— Maybe I'm fitting my own self-indulgence somewhere in here because I just love the thought of Cutthroat carving out someone's heart and eating it...but, I could see him admiring the blood of his angel after killing them, looking down to their body....and then you know, the idea dawn's on him that to feel closer he should take or eat a part of their body...

He doesn't seem to mind the taste of blood either, so even if I think what I'm saying is a little self-indulgent, he likely does use blood as a sort of syrup. The way he phrases that he prefers his marshmallows to have blood on them almost implies he's done it before— I think naturally, he prefers to consume blood, but I wouldn't exactly put it passed him to also try other things.... especially after hearing he WANTS what he's eating to look like brains..

♡༄ Cutthroat in the Kitchen

The best part of cooking is catching a fresh kill.

Cutthroat sees the word cup in a recipe and ignores all else. He is pulling out a cup—any cup, the shiniest cup; pouring whatever it is that he needs into that cup, and then dumping it into a bowl.

He's now using that cup for everything.

Don't tell him that it had a specific size amount either. He will get upset and decide he's had enough cooking. Something else would likely be more fun anyways....

No, I'm only kidding...sort of..

He half-heartedly decides to look at the numbers too now, but he's only using that ONE cup he took out beforehand. And he's only doing it because you asked him to. He's also....not too sure what the numbers even mean. But he can at least read them...he thinks...what's that dash..?

He sees 2/4's a cup and decides to pour whatever he needs in the bowl twice. One pour. Then two. 2 altogether, right..?

Okay, now the 4....what does the 4 mean?

Does he care what the 4 means...? ...Well, not really, but if it means you'll have to come help him, he's definitely asking—

You're probably gonna have to worry about any size amounts from now on..

All the numbers take the joy out of cooking so he likely forgot to pay attention to anymore after the first time anyways—

He loves the shine of the utensils and gets EXTREMELY excited about spoons. He loves spoons.

Forks are a little less fun because they aren't as reflective with their shine and they're not as sharp as a knife, but it's safe to say he's going to do a lot of spoon admiring.

Maybe he even has a favorite spoon. Or a couple favorite spoons..

Cutthroat's also a ruthless spoon shamer. He does NOT spare the feelings of any wooden spoon, simply saying, "They're ugly and look dull. Why don't they shine..?"

His day is inevitably ruined anytime you hand him a wooden spoon and he may just substitute stirring by rocking the bowl, pot, or pan back and forth instead—

He oddly loves the silicone spatulas though....but maybe that's because he can choose the red ones...

He gets really excited to stir things however, especially when you bring out the mixer. Nothing excites him quite like adding red food dye to whatever he's mixing.

It's also never not fun to lift it while it's doing its job, you know....to watch the red mixture splatter across the floor and walls like spurting blood-

If it's a hand mixer, he complains his arm hurts after doing it for all of one minute— Does it really or does he just not wanna mix it anymore?

Keep him away from the steak knives...just..keep him away from the steak knives.

Cutthroat's a little impatient so he loves to watch the microwave timer tick down. He'll likely pull it out before the timer is done too, even if it's just 15 seconds. The anticipation was just so great he couldn't take it any longer—

This creates a lot of background noise as he's constantly opening and shutting the microwave to see if it's done, paired with disappointed sighing when you tell him it's not—

He loves watching things in the oven too...maybe a little too close..

Depending on what stove he's using, if the burner turns red to signal it's hot, he'll get lost admiring the color and never put the pan on top of it to cook-

Try to put a pan on it yourself and you'll be met with, "No, no..! Don't cover it!"

He's also probably burned his own hand a few times touching it-

The cruel betrayal of something so pretty and red isn't too foreign to him though...he's actually quite pleased to feel that it's hot...as hot as the feelings he gets seeing a marvelous red halo..

He finds the bubbles caused from boiling something to be fascinating

He also claps when the pot starts to over boil and spill- it's like a little show of it's own. Ah-! Why not add red food dye and see if it'll look like a spilling fountain of blood too-?

He boils everything using actual blood...

He substitutes any ingredients he doesn't like with things he does like, so his cooking always turns out....well.. tasting like some weird combination of marshmallows and whatever else he was attempting to cook...

He loves to watch marshmallows overheat and puff up in the microwave too— In fact, keep doing it. Go on, put another in the microwave. Put 2 in there. You're the one whose cleaning up the mess anyways-

He adds red syrup to just about everything, claiming it to be the most beautiful finishing touch.

..It's either blood or cherry sauce...take a gamble.

Sometimes he'll try to surprise you by cooking for you. Which means you'll either become suspicious of the ruckus that's going on in the kitchen—or, before that can happen, he'll call you over to taste test something..

He hopes you act surprised when he's done too, even if he's made you taste test something.

He'll take it that, because he's made it, it already tastes good. Even if there's an obvious grimace on your face. It's only because you're thinking of the right words to say for how wonderful it tastes, isn't it?

If you say anything positive about it, he very excitedly tells you that it's because he's added blood to whatever you're currently eating..!

"You like it too then...oh, how exciting~! Do you want more..? How much do you want ..? I'll share anything with you, my angel~ ...Huh!? You don't want anymore...!? Why not ...? Don't you like it? ....you made such a pretty face.."

He just thinks you're pretty no matter what

In conclusion, Cutthroat's fun to cook with if you don't mind the absolute chaos and or having to scrub red batter off of the now stained walls—

And also not having anything edible by the end of it all

#akudama drive #akudama drive headcanons #I read these to my brother and he asked #what if I ONLY had wooden spoons #Cutthroat opening the drawer all excited to see you've replaced all the spoons with wooden ones-#its revenge for the red mess he made with the mixer #it was probably a bold choice to post this at 5 am on a Friday morning-#I have a long day of rearranging my room and classwork though #my WRISTS hurt so bad from typing so much too #and I have absolutely nothing to prove for half of what I've been writing because they're all half finished ideas—#whoops-#I CAN'T STICK WITH ONE WIP BEFORE I GET BORED AND MOVE ON-#edit... it is 6 am now I got sidetracked

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Chapter 11)

Chapter Summary: Bucky is ready for commitment.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: fluff. Bucky is so smitten.

A/N: It’s been 84 years, but I hope you have fun! Thank you, @lesqui, for reading it over and helping me out with English and everything. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

Placing your hands on each side of your hips, you smirk at the popped-up screen in your office. Another project you just nailed. Ever since the promotion, your productivity has increased tenfold and you feel as motivated as ever, your creativity on a top level. Also, the last few weeks, after you decided you needed some time alone, you did set more focus on yourself and your own projects. Work being one of them.

It’s weird to say the least… you’ve been busier than ever and yet, it seems like you actually have much more time to yourself now. You’ve been reading books you’ve bought but never really got to read them, eating ice-cream at 3am as you watch The Return of the King for the millionth time, your drawers are finally organized and so is your precious DVD collection. You got to explore a great number of parks and spots you’ve never been before, even living in New York for so long. You’ve been going out a lot and catching up with friends and family.

It was a good decision. You remember in your relationship with Eddie there were always obstacles for you to hang out with people outside the small inner circle of you as a couple. Sometimes the obstacles were subtle, and not always brought solely by Eddie, but also by you who let yourself get involved in that dynamic. You had no idea how much you missed people that were yours only, and not yours and Eddie’s.

It’s been great to be single. Really, really single for the first time in your adult life. No boyfriends or fiancées, no booty-calls or deals. Completely single… A title and state of mind you didn’t really get to enjoy in the first months of being broken up, being too heartbroken to even think of everything you could do with your life then.

Deciding to be alone for a while…It was a great and reasonable decision.

You have to admit something to yourself, though.

Sometimes you just wanna throw “great” and “reasonable” out of the window. Because you do miss him… A lot.

Finding out how he’s changed his mind and predisposition towards your relationship has messed quite a bit with your mind… and heart. You weren’t expecting that at all and now you don’t really know what to do with the chaos that’s bringing upon your feelings. And what’s making it even messier is the other guy who also changed his mind and predisposition towards your relationship… you weren’t expecting that either… however, that particular change of heart hasn’t been making your own heart jump each time you think of it…

Squeaky little yells and an animated chattering sound of female voices catch your attention to outside your office. Your previous smirk turns into a smile while you shake your head to yourself. That type of commotion only ensues when a certain someone drops by the Tech Department.

With a wave of your hand, you shut down the screen you’ve been working on, before moving towards the sound. What you come to find a few stops outside your office, at the Department’s common area, is a little circle of your female coworkers around a Super Soldier. He’s always a hit among your coworkers, but today it seems like they’re even in a bigger frenzy, fussing around something that he seems to be holding in his arms. You attempt to catch an eye of it, but the bodies in front of you make it quite hard.

He spots you as you approach them and opens a huge grin at your sight.

You smile back at him just as widely and after you come closer and some of the girls make room, your eyes widen and a small little gasp slips out of you when you finally find out what the fuss is all about. They are all cooing and marveling at a beautiful cat on Bucky’s arms, white as snow on a mountain peak, standing there like royalty, staring back like they’re nothing but proud of being where they are.

“Hey,” Bucky greets, prompting your eyes to focus back on him.

“Hi, there,” you answer back while your gaze carries an amused question mark at him.

He lifts a hard drive with his free hand to your vision field, “We collected this last mission, it’s some alien stuff,” he offers you the drive, keeping his eyes on yours.

As you gaze at each other, you reach for the little device. His fingers brush against yours and that’s precisely when the chattering around both of you becomes nothing but a distant and vague noise that barely reaches your senses… until a loud clear of throat sound stands out.

“Alright, girls, let’s get back to our desks and let these two, ahm… work,” Camilla, your closest friend there, gives you a pointed look and a discrete curve curls the corner of her lips as she leads the group - which looks far from happy about it - away.

When your gaze meets Bucky again, he’s got that shit-eating grin of his that tells you the little interaction between you and your friend didn’t quite skip from his attention.

You bite your lip and are about to say something when he beats you to it, “Sorry, I had to bring her with me.” He looks down at the cat on his arm and gives it a gentle shake, grinning down at her while she looks up at him before her incredibly blue eyes shut in what looks like sheer contentment, “This little girl right here started whining at the door when I was leaving… she just can’t leave my side anymore.” Bucky shrugs and ticks his tongue, before winking at you.

You chuckle, finding the surprising scene before you nothing less than adorable. The fact that you enjoy being in the presence of his charm again doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you say nothing about it, “It’s ok, of course. I love cats. What’s her name?”

“Y/N, this is Alpine. Alpine this is Y/N,” he introduces you two with pride lacing his voice.

“Oh, hello, Alp-” your attempt of petting the cat comes to an abrupt halt with you withdrawing your hand at the loud hiss the animal aims at you.

Your eyes snap at Bucky to see his jaw dropping and his eyes widening with a mix of shock and fluster, “Fucking Christ,” he gasps, before looking down at the cat who now licks its paws absentmindedly, “What the hell, missy? Apologize. Apologize now,” he scolds, gaining absolutely no reaction in response.

He scoffs, looking back at you with incredulous lifted eyebrows.

You laugh, mainly at his attempt of making Alpine apologize, “Don’t worry…” You wave him off, “How did that happen, though? I don’t remember you having a cat.” You narrow your eyes just when your head tilts.

He bites his lower lip before an almost cringing smile forms on his lips, “Oh well…”

A FEW WEEKS BEFORE…

“Weren’t the Skrulls, like, actually good guys?” Bucky frowns, shoving one of his post-missions Oreos in his mouth and crossing his ankles over the spaceship’s dash.

“Every bunch has its bad apple, I guess,” from the pilot’s seat Natasha shrugs, eyeing the apple in question from over her shoulder.

“You’ll regret this,” threatens the prisoner, who’s actually a Skrull slaver named Gragnon and has his hands and feet securely tied up, stuck on a sit at the back of the ship. Still, he tries to get up and advance towards the front, but a shield of red mist surges in front of him, making him fall back on the chair again with a growl.

Wanda, the third member of the party on that mission, smirks from her seat right behind Nat’s.

Nat rolls her eyes, “What a douche… Talos has been leading a search for him for years now, he’d be thankful we’re taking him to them. Feet off the dash, please.”

Bucky quickly obeys, pulling down his legs to the floor as Wanda snickers.

“In fact… we should thank the success of this mission to a certain someone, who came up with a device to break alien codes.” The cheeky smile on Wanda’s face as she started speaking only fades so she can shoot a glare back at the prisoner, who’s now revolved by a red mist dome.

“Damn right.” A dreamy little curl pulls Bucky’s lips as he swings on his seat and passes the bag of Oreos to Wanda.

“Jesus,” Nat scoffs, setting the ship on autopilot, before swirling her chair to see both Bucky and Wanda, “Could you ever imagine this could be possible? That this guy would someday be that smitten over someone?” she questions Wanda.

“Not in a million years. I don’t know Y/N that well, but I bow to her.” Wanda mimics the gesture before shoving a cookie in her mouth.

Bucky doesn’t even drop the dreaminess of his smile. He is smitten… completely… utterly… and fuck if that doesn’t feel damn good. He always thought that kind of feeling would be a pain in the ass, boring and painful. It is not. He feels like singing, dancing, hugging every human being and alien he comes across. Fuck, he would hug the Gragnon dude if it didn’t mean to get a kick in the ass from Natasha. It’s been ages that he doesn’t really get high on anything, but that feeling… he’s definitely hooked on it. There’s not a doubt inside him anymore and he’s in love with being in love with you.

“So, spill it,” Nat crosses her legs, swinging on her chair “You really went to her place and poured your heart out to her? Right after her ex proposed to her?” She questions, “What did she say?”

“Well, first she thought I was kidding and laughed her ass off…” He shakes his head with the same dreamy little smile on his lips, “Then, when she realized I was not, she started crying and, of course, so did I.” He shrugs, ignoring when Nat and Wanda exchange looks, “She wasn’t expecting that from me at all, and, we can’t really blame her can we?”

“Definitely not.”

“Nope.”

Bucky chuckles at the unison response from her friends before leaning over and snatching the bag of cookies from Wanda, before giving them the details of his talk with you, having their undivided attention. “And she said she needs some time alone, being single, I mean, to sort her feelings out… Also, it seems like she doesn’t think I can’t deal with the kind of commitment that being in love requires,” he says with a mouthful.

“Oh, honey…” Nat tilts her head.

He notices the sympathy on hers and Wanda’s expressions and waves his hand to brush her worries off, “No, no. None of that. All in all, it went pretty well. As much as I wished it would be different, I think her decision is fair. At least she didn’t say yes to the jackass with the ring,” he huffs, “I wasn’t really expecting her to throw herself in my arms. At least, not just yet.” He smirks.

“What?” Natasha shoots a look at Wanda before turning to him, “You’re not stepping aside?”

Bucky snorts at the question, “Are you kidding me? The first broad I ever fall in love with and you think I’ll leave the path free for that short little clown who thinks ten years matter?” He lets out an exaggeratedly loud laugh, “I’ve lived more than one hundred of them. Ten years mean nothing to me, and soon enough she’ll realize it doesn’t have to mean much to her, either.” A small smile rises on his face, “Of course she can have the time for herself she wants, find out what’s like being single. She deserves that. And she can think and figure out all she needs… have her fun... It’s all good…” He nods, “But in the meanwhile? I’ll be around romancing the shit out of that woman,” he states, right before tossing another cookie in his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Wanda addresses Natasha, with both eyebrows high on her forehead.

“I know…” Nat answers with an equally dumbfounded look on her face, before turning to Bucky, “Listen,” she sighs and tilts her head, “I hate to be such a killjoy here, but… I get you’re in love, and I know this is new and exciting for you.” She’s smiling before her lips tighten, “Having said that… I think she might have a point about you not being ready for commitment Bucky, you never wanted that. I’m gonna be honest here, I’m the one who set what you two had up because I thought it wouldn’t lead to this…” She waves all around him, “Feelings, I mean… and I would hate myself if you two ended up hurt because of it.” She focuses an apprehensive gaze on him while Wanda also rests her attention on him, looking like she agrees with her friend.

Bucky takes a good look between the two of them before putting into words the answer that’s so clear on his head now, “I know it may sound weird and uncharacteristic of me. Trust me, I know that.” He nods at Natasha, taking a moment to silently communicate with her in the way that has been always so easy for the two of them, “You’re right, I’ve never wanted that. Settling down to just one person, commit to a long term relationship…But with her,” he sighs and the corner of his lips curl up without further notice, “I want her and I want all of that with her, the whole package. I’m ready. I’m not afraid. I think the reason I didn’t want all of that before is because I hadn’t met her yet. That’s it. Simple as that. I know it’s not going to be easy, but to hell with easy. I want her. And I want her hard.”

Wanda already has a huge grin on her face when a satisfied little smirk twists Nat’s lips, “That’s what Amanda said.”

Bucky’s eyes widen before he squints at her, “What’ve you been up to?”

Nat puts on a nonchalant face and reaches forward to grab a cookie from the package. She takes a bite and shrugs, “Poor girl… needed some comfort after being let down by your buddy down there.”

Bucky lets out an outraged scoff and throws a cookie on her way, from which she dodges easily as she laughs, “I bet you were of great help in consoling her… Jesus… Amanda and you? The world isn’t ready.” He shakes his head.

Natasha sports a smug smile on her face when she nods her agreement, “You’re not wrong.”

“Alright, as much as I want to hear all about this Amanda girl, we’re getting close to the Skrull base now and we need you to land us, Nat,” Wanda nods towards the dash.

“Copy that,” Natasha makes a military salute at her, before shifting her seat and taking control of the ship again.

“And as for you,” Wanda turns to Bucky, “I don’t need to read what’s on your mind to know you’re telling us the truth. You’re ready for commitment,” she offers him a soft smile, which he reciprocates, “And if you really wanna show her that, I may have an idea.” Her smile turns into a devious little smirk and that’s enough to pique Bucky’s interest.

~~~

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bucky asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks alongside Wanda through the busy sidewalks of Manhattan, “I mean… I know I said yes, but it is one hell of a commitment, what if it’s not for me?”

“Don’t worry, Bucky,” she smiles, “We’re just gonna take a look around, feel the vibe, and then see what happens. You don’t have to decide anything just yet,” she assures, wrapping an arm around his elbow as he looks down at her, “I just think it’s a good idea for you to get to know a bit more of this sudden inclination to commit…to experiment, I guess,” Wanda shrugs, “Besides, a dear friend of mine runs the shelter and the girl knows her stuff. If she feels like you’re not ready, she won’t allow you to get out of there with one of her babies.”

Bucky lets out a laugh. Feeling a little lighter about the subject, he places his hand over the one Wanda has wrapped around his arm, “Alright… I’m not opposed to the idea of having a dog, I guess. I always loved Labradors…” he frowns, “I would have to switch apartments, though…”

“Look at you.” Wanda nudges her shoulder on him, “Already making plans for your child…”

“Child…” Bucky can’t help but snort. He had agreed to Wanda’s idea of going to an animal shelter because he thought it would be a good way to show you he’s ready for commitment and, like he said, he’s always been fond of dogs and he’s sure if he ends up taking one home he’ll treat them well. But he also never understood how some people could be so attached to an animal to the point of considering them a child, or family…“I don’t know… I’m definitely not taking a pet home today. I agree with you, I shouldn’t decide anything just yet.”

As they walk past a small alleyway, Wanda halts, forcing him to stop with her.

“What?” Bucky frowns down at her.

“Shhh,” she brings a finger to her lips, staring towards the alleyway, “Listen.”

That’s when Bucky’s enhanced hearing catches the thin and shaky little sound coming through the trash cans.

“Come on,” Wanda pulls him to the alley and towards the cans.

What they find behind one of the containers, among all the filth around is a ball of white fur. Curled up and shaking just like the meows they heard seconds ago. A cat, a young adult white cat looks up and a pair of baby blue eyes meets Bucky’s and he just can’t look away from the plea on them and it’s just when something clicks inside his chest.

“Oh, no, look,” Wanda points at the tail, that has an evident injury on it, but when she leans down to examine it further, the animal flinches and rushes towards Bucky’s legs, letting out another trembling and weak meow. Bucky freezes as it starts climbing up his calves.

Given the poor coordination on their back little legs – probably from the damage on the tail- it can go much higher, but keeps trying. After the initial surprise, Bucky can’t help but to smile at the little fighter, who seems to reach out at him for protection. Next thing he knows, he’s leaning down and picks it up with all the caution he can muster.

“Hello, little lady… what happened there, huh?” He coos, nodding towards the small injury, which looks like a bite, having the cat meowing while bumping and rubbing the head against his chest.

“Is it a female?” Wanda tilts her head, an amused and questioning expression on her face.

Bucky smirks, not taking his eyes away from the animal, who is now quiet and seems much calmer, but digging her little claws on Bucky’s shirt, “I know a beautiful lady when I see one. Don’t I, gorgeous?”

A purring sound comes out of the now contented animal, the small injury on her tail apparently not being a problem anymore while she climbs higher and practically hugs Bucky with her little paws, whose fur is smudged by dirt, making his heart take a flip in his chest. Damn his heart nowadays…

“Aww, Bucky…” Wanda smiles, placing her hand over her heart, “What are we going to do? Should we take her to the shelter?” Wanda offers, with a bit of tentativeness on her voice.

Bucky’s eyes widen largely, before they snap to her friend. A protective tightness laces his hold on Alpine, who lets out another weak meow. Shit… Alpine? When the hell did he even come up with a name? Fuck if he knows, all he knows he’s done for and can’t possibly think of parting from that white furry little thing, who seems to have gone through a lot in her life already and probably has never met with human kindness before.

He doesn’t need to say anything as understanding falls upon Wanda’s face. He would even guess there’s a bit of pride adorning the smile on her lips now, “Alright, alright… we do need to take Alpine to the vet, though, Mr. I’m not gonna take a pet home today.” She winks.

~~~

PRESENT DAY…

“Oh well…” Bucky scratches the back of his neck while you keep your beautiful interested eyes on him, “I found this beauty on the street… she had an injured tail, poor thing… probably bitten by a dog. But she’s fine now, aren’t you, sweetie?” He coos, putting on the new tone of voice that belongs to Alpine now and loving the sound of your chuckle, “You know… I’m fully committed to taking care of her. I’m a cat dad now.” He says, putting some effort to highlight the word “committed”.

“I can see that…” you comment, nodding with a glimmer of fondness in your gaze at where Alpine is cuddled against him with eyes closed, completely relaxed.

Bucky looks down and smiles. That one is too cute for her own good, but he’s definitely having a talk with her later, for hissing at you like that, like he hadn’t given her a lecture about good behavior and how incredible you were before they left home.

“So, it’s been a while, huh? How’re you doing?” He asks softly, boring his eyes on you and holding back every ounce of him to not pull you to his arms and shower you with all the intense love he’s gathering in his chest at your sight in front of him. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have spent those long weeks apart from you, but he met with missions and an Alpine in the way. Also, as much as he’s resolved to show you he’s the one for you, he understands you needed time for yourself. But, hell, he missed you so much.

“Oh, I’m good, I’m good… pretty good,” you ramble, brushing a finger behind your ear, that thing you do when you become a bit self-conscious, which happens often when he places his gaze so intently on you.

He can’t help but smile, his chest impossibly swelled with his feelings for you, because that woman who becomes all flustered with his attention is the same woman who whined to suck his dick while shitfaced after a party. Damn, he’s so in love with you.

“That’s great...Are you free tonight?” He asks, smoothly, “Wanda and Sam will make hamburgers, they’re one hell of a team in the kitchen, you’ll be welcome to come if you want to.”

“Oh… I…” You falter.

“I’m not trying anything, I promise,” He’s quick to add with a chuckle and raises his free hand up, noticing the trepidation in your voice. “Everyone’s gonna be there. We’re just gonna eat and hangout.” He shrugs.

“Oh… no, it’s not that, it’s just…” You tighten your lips “I’ve got plans.” Something Bucky guesses to be disappointment or something like that sweeps into your voice. As for him, he holds his breath, bracing himself for the news that you’re going out with that douche of an ex, “I’m gonna meet some friends from college tonight. I got a reservation for us for dinner and then we’re gonna go dance…”

Bucky lets out a breath and the smile that grows in his face is wide when he says, “Oh, alright. That sounds like fun.” Really, really fun, especially if that jackass isn’t involved. He’s not disappointed. Far from it.

You smile back at him, matching his mood. It doesn’t slip from his attention that you seem a bit surprised by his reaction at you declining an invitation from him in favor to hang out with your friends, but he says nothing of it.

“Yeah… I’ve been getting reacquainted with them lately,” you say, excitement plastered on the little curve of your lips and the glint in your eyes, “It’s been fun. I’d love to get to know Wanda and Sam’s talent in the kitchen, though….Maybe some other time?” You offer.

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment brings the effect he was aiming for when you promptly does that thing with your finger on your ear again, but it was also noticed by the other girl in the room and currently in his arm, who seems to wake up from her comfort slumber against his chest to hiss at you again.

You look at each other in widened eyes.

“What the hell,” Bucky scolds down at the cat, glancing at you briefly, catching your now amused expression, before addressing Alpine again in a whispery voice, “We’re gonna have a talk back home, young lady.”

~~~

“What a number you put out there, huh?” His voice is gentle despite the reprimanding intention in his words while Bucky crouches and fills her little plate with the special food the vet recommended.

With her crystal-clear eyes glued on the plate, Alpine doesn’t really acknowledge his half attempt of admonishing her before digging in.

Bucky chuckles, “She’s cute, isn’t she? But so are you,” He scratches the back of her ear and she stops eating for a moment to brush her head against his hand, “You don’t have to be jealous, doll. You’re so cute, you’re my girl, too, you know?” he coos, still petting her, “But you gotta help me out there buddy. Ok? She’s really special and I know you’ll love her, too.”

Alpine lets out a weak meow before getting back to her plate and Bucky swears to God he sometimes wonders if the cat is some sort of shapeshifter in disguise, understanding every little thing he says.

Letting her out to eat, he stands up, “Hey, Friday,” he calls.

“Yes, Bucky?”

“Could you search for a table reservation in the name of Y/N Y/L/N tonight? I need the address of the place.”

A small silence ensues before the A.I speaks again, “Isn’t it a bit creepy?”

He sighs, placing his hands on his hips, “Friday… babe…” He smiles at the giggles that resound in his kitchen, before bringing a hand to his heart, “I’m in love, ok? I’m not gonna ruin her night…If anything, I’m just going to make her night out with her friends more… interesting.”

“Alright, you know I can’t say no to you,” the A.I concedes, “You can find the address in your phone’s map. Good luck, handsome.”

“Thanks, babe,” Bucky grins, before turning to Alpine, who’s now about done with her food, sprawled on the floor busy with cleaning out her paws, “And you?” He calls, catching her attention before he points at her, “You’ll have burgers with your aunt Wanda. I have plans for tonight.”

~~~

To be continued...

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #it's a deal

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unholyobsessions · 4 years

Text

Story of Another Us

Pairing: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

Description: After Julie finds a song Luke wrote about you, he reminisces on his moments with you

A/N: The song Luke wrote is Story of Another Us by 5 Seconds of Summer i highly recommend listening to it

Warnings: Cussing

Word count: 1.7k

Part 2

Julie is a curious person by nature, nobody can deny that. So when Luke gave her his journal and told her to look at all the dog eared songs, she couldn’t stop herself from reading them all. When she got to the last song in the journal she hesitated. It was not dog eared and looked to be the newest written. Most words were crossed out and corrections were written between the margins, she turned the page to find the final version of the song, written coherently. She raised her brows at the wet spots that stained some of the words. She read through it, her own eyes tearing up and threatening to smudge the beautiful lyrics composed by her lead guitarist.

The faint pop Julie has grown to recognize startles her. She meets Luke’s eyes and tries to flip the notebook back to another page but he catches sight of it before she can.

He stays quiet for a second and Julie bites her lip in anticipation.

“What is it that you always say Jules? Boundaries?” The look in his eyes is a mixture of anger, betrayal, and pure sadness, and it breaks Julie’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She doesn’t know what else to say and ultimately decides to risk asking the question that is on the forefront of her mind. “Luke, who is the song about?”

He sighs and takes a sit next to her on the bed, there’s no point in lying to her. “My girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Julie asks, both confused and surprised.

“Yeah ex-girlfriend I guess. We uh dated back in the 90s,” a sad smile on his face as he spoke. “She was there the night of the concert but she hated hotdogs so she stayed back with Bobby at the Orpheum. I didn’t want to think about her when we first came back but last week I looked her up and I went to see her. She has a family, married, children everything that we talked about having together.” Tears were falling down his face and Julie wanted nothing more than to be able to hug him.

“I-“ she started but what was she supposed to say? Luke shook his head, not finished talking.

“Her youngest son, his name is-“ he pressed a fist against his mouth, biting back a sob. “She named him Luke.” It’s something that took him by surprise when he heard her call his name. For a second he thought she meant him, but then he saw the cute nine-year-old dashing into the room, smiling brightly at his mother.

“Oh.”

“And I am so happy for her but I just, I guess I finally realized just how much I lost that night.” He finally turned his head and made eye contact with Julie.

“Tell me about her,” she said. Luke’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be her response. He regained his composure and nodded his head, thinking back to the moments you shared together.

. . .

You’re sitting on the couch, waiting for the boys to get back to the studio after playing at the pier for change. You actually had school and therefore could not go and watch them but you have the rest of the day off and decided to spend it with your favorite people.

The loud, excited voice of your boyfriend breaks you from your thoughts. He pushes the door of the garage turned studio open and smiles when he spots you. He rushes to the couch and throws himself on top of you. You grunt and try to push him off, which only causes him to hold you tighter.

“Get off me you doofus. You’re sweaty and gross,” you exclaim. He looks at you in mock hurt and you use his surprise to your advantage and push him off the couch. You sit up and wave at the rest of the guys.

Bobby smiles and shakes his head walking forward to ruffle your hair. Alex and Reggie make it seem like they will throw themselves on top of you too and you scream, raising your arms over your head in defense, making everyone laugh. You stick your tongue out at them and look down at your boyfriend still laying on the floor.

“How was your physics test?” He asks, remembering last night’s mental breakdown about you not understanding anything. He always felt useless in those situations, never having taken physics himself after dropping out, so he couldn’t help you study. He normally just holds you close and hopes you stop crying, because regardless of what Alex says, he would never leave you to cry alone.

“Meh, pretty sure I passed but I never know.” You shrug your shoulders dismissing any thoughts of your grades.

Bobby laughs and points an accusatory finger at you, “You always say that and you always end up being the highest score. Don’t give us that ‘meh’ bullshit.”

You throw a pillow at him but he easily catches it and throws it at Reggie, who gets hit in the head. Reggie complains and both you and Bobby chuckle at his inconvenience.

Luke finally gets up from the floor and sits next to you on the couch, pulling your body to lean against his. You’re used to this proximity, realizing early in your relationship that Luke is a very touchy person and has to have physical contact with someone at all times.

You smile and look up to him, asking how the performance at the pier went. He excitedly goes on about how people complemented them and how he knows that they are on their way to becoming big and you can’t help but agree. If there is one thing you know is that Sunset Curve is on their way to greatness.

. . .

“She believed in me, in all of us. Every second of spare time she had, she spent helping us get gigs. She would even sit on that old coach while we practiced and do her homework.”

Julie smiled at the way his eyes lit up. “She sounds amazing. Though I am surprised she was able to concentrate with you guys playing.”

Luke laughs and shakes his head. “She was not. She would yell at us and blame us if she didn’t do well on a test, but we always convinced her to stay when she tried to leave.”

. . .

You tried to block out the loud playing of instruments as you read Lord of the Flies for your english class. You snap the book shut and let out a frustrated sigh standing up abruptly and making your way out the door.

Luke stops singing and slips his guitar off before rushing over to you.

“Hey where are you going?” Luke asks a little breathless, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his body still full of adrenaline.

“I can’t concentrate,” you reply. “I’m pretty sure I have a test on the first four chapters tomorrow.” You look up to find him pouting adorably at you. You roll your eyes and try to leave again but he grabs your arm.

“We’re almost done. Let us just finish this song and then we were all just going to write. Just don’t leave.” His eyes are pleading with you and you know that you won’t decline. You let him lead you back to the couch and you sit down, reopening your book and trying to finish the chapters assigned.

Five minutes later the guys were all milling on different areas of the studio with a pen and an instrument, working on melodies as Luke works on lyrics on the floor in front of you leaning back against your legs. You run your hand absentmindedly through his hair as the other holds up the book.

The pager clipped to your jeans beeps and you glance down at it, your eyes widening when you see the message. You stand up quickly, dropping your book on Luke’s head in the process. You ignore the calls of pain and protest from your boyfriend as you run out of the shed and into the house. You greet Bobby’s mom and walk to the living room where the landline is at. You dial the number quickly and mumble “pick up” repeatedly under your breath. The club owner picks up and you talk for about fifteen minutes. At the end confirming a gig for Sunset Curve every Saturday this month at one of the hottest clubs in LA.

You scream with joy and run back to the studio yelling for their attention.

“Guess who just booked you guys a gig!” You exclaim, a joyous smile on your lips. The boys all jump up from their places around the room and rush to hug you but you raise your hands stopping them in their tracks. “Sunset Curve will be performing every Saturday this March at The Reserve!”

They all freeze, mouths opening in shock before they tackle you in a hug and jumping around in excitement. Luke pulls you close against him and kisses you desperately, trying to convey every emotion he is feeling at the moment. The guys cheer like they always do whenever Luke kisses you in front of them.

They all give you their thanks and a hug before Luke pulls you back to the couch, picking up his lyric journal and placing your hand back in his hair. The room is still buzzing with excitement but your force yourself to concentrate as you pick your book back up and continued reading.

. . .

Luke looks down at his hands, “She was the love of my life, quite literally, and I guess that now in my death I have to learn to live without her.”

Julie let her hand hover over his and if she concentrated hard enough she swears she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “It’s a beautiful song Luke and she sounds like she loved you very much. Just remember that getting over her doesn’t mean forgetting her.”

Luke smiles at his friend, thankful to have met her and have her be a part of his (after)life. He looks down at his journal, eyes skimming over the song. “Do you think,” he pauses. “Do you think it’s good enough to perform?”

Julie stares him like he’s insane. “Anything you write is good enough to perform, especially this song.” Luke turns away, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Thanks Jules.”

#luke patterson #luke x reader #luke x oc #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the himbos #jatp netflix #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #julie molina

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suitetarts · 3 years

Text

pockets full of stone

A mer-may collab with @miranhas-art 💙 See below the cut for another gorgeous Mari illustration! ... and my fic

Din Djarin nearly dies (again) and meets someone from the stories he heard as a child. He didn’t expect them to be so sassy, though.

Rating: General Word Count: 2.8k Warning: Description of drowning, thoughts of death, vomiting (water) AO3 Link

A push, grunt, then a large splash into the lake’s dark and chilled waters.

This was the last time Din was going to talk business on a pier without his jetpack. He knew the bounty was desperate, and for Maker’s sake, the Quarren had thrown his body weight around earlier on the Crest trying to piss Din off by scaring the kid. He should have known better.

Din pulls himself back to the present and away from any blame. He could worry about that later. Or never, and he supposes he’ll find that out soon. His whole body feels incredibly heavy, much more than what he has grown used to over the years. Where metal meets man, he is dragged down; the weight of his padding and armor applying an inescapable pressure as the moonlight fades to black above him. He tries pulling at the water with his arms while kicking with his legs, grasping for anything, but still he feels himself sinking deeper.

Wait, the… Who would take care of the baby if Din can’t....

His breaths are coming fast as he tries and fails to calm himself. Keeping his body upright means that the water still hasn’t crept into his helmet, which is something he can work with. But only for a short few moments. Din realizes he’s probably going to run out of breathable air before he reaches the bottom of this icy lake, much less walk out of it, as he continues to sink.

Din’s mind begins to fog as he figures he might be able to save himself if he loses some of the beskar. He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on this, as close to his heart and soul the beskar may be. The armor will be at the bottom of the lake whether he succeeds or fails, so he gets going. His normally nimble fingers are cold and difficult, and they fail to find purchase on the slippery latches of his pauldrons. The cape wrapped around his chestplate in such a way to make it nearly impossible to remove without being able to look down and see it. His head lolls forward, allowing water to rush into his helmet and the dwindling air pocket. Din’s mouth and nose are full of water, his throat contracts, his chest stutters, his lungs burn. He can’t focus on the latches to his armor or removing his belts, all he can feel is the cold depths rushing all around and within.

Fuck.

The Mandalorian reflects for a moment. He’s done his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. This is it. He’s flirted with this for years, and it's finally here. Is it honorable? Probably not. Is it what he deserves? Most likely. What’s his legacy? A lifetime spent trying to be worthy of being saved, only to waste it. Figures.

Before Din lost consciousness, two glowing blue lights rushed towards him, but he was too far gone to care. He was finally warm.

Death is a funny thing. No one really knows what happens in the instant before it actually happens. Everyone says they know, but obviously they don’t. There’s no certainty in death, just like in life. What happens to someone when they cross the veil, from one world to the next? If it's anything like traveling at lightspeed, Din knew that like the back of his hand. A shudder felt through the hull, a pause, and then that’s it. Silence and flashes of stars, except perhaps these would fade to black before long. What would he see in those stars? A story?

If Din was to see a story before he died, he knew plenty of them. He had once been fond of the stories that came from strangers. He would beg his father to take him to the cantina, to let him sit in the dirty booths and eavesdrop on the travelers talking about their recent journeys to Coruscant or to any number of exotic planets in the outer rim. The idea of being totally free to do whatever Din wanted in the whole entire galaxy was so thrilling, especially compared to his reality of being tied down to his father’s shop in the bazaar forever. What kind of story would that make for, compared to what was out there in the stars? There were dashing pilots, gunners and soldiers, merchants, bounty hunters, peacekeepers, missionaries. Stories of war in far off places, of mysterious species unlike anything he’d ever dreamed, of personal loss, of unexpected love. Whenever he asked to go -- before, that is -- his mother would give his father a look, one that was always angled so that Din couldn’t see, and then his father would relent and take the young boy out for the afternoon. But eventually, both of them would shush him when he asked. They stayed inside, ‘it’s not a good day’ his mother said, and kept the store closed. There were whispers of war, a real war. The whispers were exciting to Din at first, they reminded him of the stories. The heroes were going to swoop in to stop the bad guys and put everything back to normal. But then the whispers grew into screams, explosions, shooting. Where were the heroes? All the thrilling things he had heard in the cantina, but terrifying and happening to him with no one here to--

Stop. Din’s dead, and yet he continues to torture himself. If he gets one last laugh, it should be at himself.

Din didn’t want a story, or to relive his life. What about something he never got to do? He had always hoped that he could live in a fantasy, if only for a moment, where he could have a simple life. A moisture farmer on some backwater planet, or a working class mechanic for a Mid Rim starport. Although that was never a life he would actually want for himself, a simple life was always a nice thought for a different Din. One who wasn’t so…. damaged.

So here he is, a man on the brink of death. Is he seeing his life flash painfully before him again, is he living in a dream, is he nowhere at all?

A kiss. He’s being kissed.

Now, Din had never kissed anyone on the lips in life. He knew the steps, the basic mechanics, but he imagined that it was a much different experience to be kissing an actual active participant and not just the skin on the back of his own hand. There was a certain give and take that he was looking forward to -- a dance, a battle of will fought with plush lips and soft tongues. Even beyond the direct battlefield, there was the periphery of where one’s hands would be, knees intertwined, legs weak and swaying. His arm wrapped around their waist and his fingers brushing tenderly over their cheek, while they pull him in by the shoulders until they melt together.

He would have much rather died in a kiss like that.

In this brief moment of purgatory, however, he can settle for this one chaste kiss. This ‘kiss’ he is having now, if it’s to be called that, is… Hmm. It isn’t what Din imagined. Everything is dark, and it's not anything like a dance. This person seems to be gasping into him with their mouth wide open, like a fish out of water. Whoever he’s kissing has clearly never done this before either, otherwise why in Maker’s name would anyone want to kiss again? He strains his arms to reach forward at whatever is capturing his lips, but he can’t find his strength. He had never known that kissing would need to be so rushed, or involve so much blowing of air? He --

Oh.

Din grunts around a cough, finding himself on his back and in quite a bit of pain. His insides feel like they are saturated and about to burst. He rolls over onto his hands and knees on the muddy banks of the far side of the lake so that he can proceed to throw up an obscene amount of water, which only makes the burning in his lungs more and more painful with each heave.

A sigh of relief, a soft voice breaking through the silt caked in his ears which seems to speak only above a whisper. “I-I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Din freezes. The discomfort and pained heat in his chest is nothing compared to the inferno under the bare skin of his face. He continues to stare at the ground, but shifts his eyes up so that he is looking in the direction of his savior.

A human, scantily-clad with only a dark cloth wrapped around their chest and some sort of leather skirt, sits in front of him on the rocks, their legs still partially submerged in the murky lake water. They thumb at their wet lips as they smile at him, and he feels a blush creep from his face all the way down his chest. Those glistening, smiling lips had been on his lips.

His lips.

His face.

The Creed.

Despite a sensible voice in Din’s head trying to remind him that they had saved his life, despite the weakness that pervaded every inch of his body, a flare of anger rises in him. He is dar’manda now, because of them.

He pulls himself up into a seated position on the lakeside and puffs out his chest, only to find the pain evaporating his anger. “What did you do….” he asks himself.

Their smile fades as their brows furrow. “I think that’s pretty obvious. I saved your life.”

“I didn’t mean-- My life?” Din sighs around a laugh. He’s done this before, hasn’t he? Why’s this different from the cantina? Because this person isn’t made of metal? He knew going along with anything less than what the Creed requires of him would become a slippery slope. The tears come easily and he does nothing to stop them. “No, my life is over.”

They set one of their hands on the rock beside them, leaning their weight onto it and towards him. They open their mouth around a smirk, then pause. They start again, but with a blank sincere expression. “Why’s that?”

It’s probably the adrenaline from nearly dying and being unmasked again, but for a moment Din considers grabbing their arm and pulling them in for a real kiss. What does it matter now? His body shows no signs of his thoughts, not a single twitch of muscle, but his face must be betraying him as he watches their eyes train in on his as they purse their lips and smile with their dark, shimmering eyes. Whatever blush he still had on his face grew a shade darker.

“You’re a bold one.” They say around a smile, their long fingers twisting through their hair.

Din squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from them, towards the dark sky full of stars. His voice cracks as he gives weight to the words running through his mind, to the feeling of emptiness inside. “I’m dar’manda.”

They snort, and Din can’t help but whip his head at them.

“Can’t be that big of a deal if I’ve never heard of it.”

Din expected them to not know, but not for them to be so arrogant about it. He had an explanation ready, but since he was caught off guard and doesn’t want to get lost in the weeds with this person, he summarizes the summary as, “It means I’m done. I can’t wear the armor anymore.”

“Because I saved you?”

“Because you’ve seen me,” Din explains, finding the familiar words of his Creed. “No living thing can see me without the helmet. That’s… that’s the one rule. And I broke it.”

“But I’m the one who broke it.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They blow a raspberry and wave at the air with their free hand. “You humans really can be so dramatic.”

Din pauses, squinting up at the twinkling stars as he absorbs their words. Well. Now he’s curious. He brings his gaze back down at his savior. It's dark and he’d just drowned, but he didn’t see anything… off.

“You seem human to me,” he says as he turns over and sits back on his haunches.

“You seem duller than I hoped.” They bite their lips around a smile as they laugh softly. They pull their legs out of the water; the skirt seems to shine iridescent in the moonlight, like facets of a precious gemstone. Their feet were…. Hm. Their skirt, their legs, are covered in leather? No, scales….

Din finds his mouth gaping as he stares at a tail, the fin slapping wetly against the rocks in step with the drum of their fingers against their thighs -- singular, thigh?

As he struggles to think of a good first question, they purse their lips in thought. “Let me go get your hat,” they say before quickly slipping back into the lake.

“W-wait, it’s not a...,” Din calls out stupidly, launching himself slowly and awkwardly from his haunches and reaching out in the empty air where they once were.

This can’t be real. Mystical, intelligent beings with the head and upper body of a human, but the fins and tail of a fish. He was more than familiar with the stories, but such creatures were just children’s tales. Although, what was fiction now that he is taking care of a fifty year old infant with telekinetic powers? The galaxy was a big place, he supposed.

The mer-person seems to come back just as fast as they’d left, setting Din’s helmet on the shore at his feet before pulling themselves back up to sit their colorfully-scaled behind on the rocks.

Din reaches down and fumbles for a moment with the beskar, checking the inside before placing it back on his head. The pads are damp and uncomfortable, but not any more uncomfortable than feeling so exposed. “Thank you.”

“It's no problem, hat boy,” they prod as they casually clean their fingernails. Din bristles.

“It’s not a hat.”

“And I’m not alive,” they say seriously, looking at Din’s eyes through the visor somehow. The jovial tone fades to a comfortable yet tense silence. He tilts his head, waiting for them to continue their thought.

“Why get yourself all worked up? No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway.”

“I would know,” Din states softly. The tension dissipates but the two stay motionless. Din contemplates and shrugs minutely in defeat. He would know, yes, but he already knows. This isn’t the first time he’s failed when his Creed has been tested. Yet, who would argue whether droids or mer-people are ‘living beings’? The line is blurry, so it's up to Din to decide when the line is crossed. Considering his responsibility to his foundling’s care, he pushes the thoughts of being dar’manda far from his focus, into hiding in the recess.

Ripples from the lake, bouncing moonlight off of its surface, catches his attention. Save for a brief fading view of two blue lights in the dark water, nothing. They are gone, and Din is alone. His wet lungs wheeze as he reaches down, patting along the areas where they had been, searching for any remnants of their existence. An imprint, a misplaced item, a loose scale. Not a trace.

After a moment, Din pulls himself to his feet and trudges up through the pocket of trees surrounding the lake to a small path leading back to the pier. It had only been ten minutes or so since he had been pushed into the lake, but the bounty and his client were gone. Din assumed they both left giddily, since the bounty could think he was dead and the client didn’t have to pay the back half of his premium. Wasn’t the first time, after all.

The Razor Crest’s security lights flickered to life as her prodigal son returned, the side bay ramp welcoming him inside with a flick of the wrist. As Din walked up the ramp, he was faced with an empty carbonite rack -- and more accurately, what amounted to an empty coffer. He wondered if he still had some of the murky lake water swimming through his brain because he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The beskar helmet quickly pivoted away from the carbonite chamber as he heard a grumble and the shuffling of blankets. The baby stirred from their shared cot, chirping and cooing to be held. Din crossed the hold with long, swift strides and obliged, removing his damp and filthy gloves to thumb over the baby’s warm cheeks.

Din sucked in a breath to speak, but paused. No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway. He would always know, but… He had nothing to hide from his sweet little foundling.

Din sat on the floor below the cot, leaning against the wall as he cradled the sleepy babe in the crook of his legs. The lake water dripped off of him slowly, glinting in the safe yellow glow of home as Din told a story.

#the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #original gender-neutral character #mermay #mando mermay #the mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfic #fic and art collab #gen fic #no romance or smut #pov din djarin #din centric #mando may

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mystic-deep · 3 years

Text

"Sensei said girls love swans." | Okkotsu Yuuta x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Just a small box of chocolates, bought on a whim, gifted for no apparent reason. Or so you say.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, good bad advices from Gojo.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: I'm working on three other stories with Nanami, Gojo and Toji but had to write something for best boy Yuuta. We're getting volume 0 animated! This was done at the speed of light so please forgive any errors.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.29 k

Valentine’s Day was quite a surprise this year. You didn’t expect the world to just revert back to old habits so soon, but then again you understood the craving for what was once considered normal. More than a year had passed since the Shibuya incident and with Gojo Satoru finally being released from his prison, things were slowly calming down.

Two major changes came as a result of the near annihilation of Tokyo, one was that now the world was aware of the existence of curses and two was the high number of people that had awoken cursed energy. What were once empty classrooms and training grounds of the Jujutsu Tokyo High School, were now filled with first year students ready to learn from the best. Although the older generation was composed of just a handful of students, they were really the top of the Jujutsu world.

All of your senpais were impressive in their own right so all of them had gathered quite a following of first years. The most popular, by far, was Fushiguro Megumi, the one that possessed the Ten Shadows Technique of the Zen’in clan. A lethal combination of looks, power and status, or so your classmates claimed.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was the third year Okkotsu Yuuta. He was a rare sight on campus and whenever he was present he didn’t interact much with any of the first years. The first time you’ve met him was during a group mission where he was there to supervise. The curse ended up being a special grade and if Yuuta hadn’t jumped in to help you, you’d all be dead. You still remember the bitterness of your classmates when he offered his feedback. Clearly he was right on all points but he didn’t honey glazed any of his words. That incident had caused a string of nasty rumours to spread and everyone in your class began to avoid him as much as possible. You guessed no one was in a hurry to offer him any gifts today.

As for yourself, you tagged along with some of the girls from your class as they chose the best chocolates for their favourite senpais. You didn’t have anyone you really wanted to gift them to, so you bought a small box purely for selfish reasons.

You headed back to campus and as you approached the training grounds you noticed that a small crowd of students were already gathered there. In the middle of them stood Megumi whose arms could barely hold the large number of gifts he had received. The deadpan expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“You girls better hurry, Megumi-kun looks like he has reached his limit.”

Turning around you were greeted by Gojo who was also carrying quite an impressive quantity of Valentine’s gifts.

“Sensei is really popular.”

“Please don’t sound so surprised.”

As your little conversation went on, your friends quickly abandoned you in order to join the crowd.

“Not gonna join them?” You shook your head as your hands tighten on the handle of your backpack where your box of chocolates was hiding.

“I didn’t buy any chocolates...I mean I did buy chocolates just not for...I should probably head to class.” Feeling too ashamed to admit your selfish purchase, you hurried down the path to the main entrance before Gojo could question you further.

Just as you were about to reach your destination you suddenly noticed a figure not too far from you. Yuuta was strolling along the same path and his expression was not a happy one. Your earlier guess must have been correct judging by his slumped shoulders. Now you never truly worried yourself with his well being, but it just felt so incredibly unfair that he was marginalized like this. At the end of the day, even if he wasn’t easy to talk to, he was a responsible senpai who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in to help others when needed. With that thought in mind, you quickened your pace and called out to him.

“Okkotsu-senpai! Okkotsu-senpai, please wait!”

He stopped in his track and turned to look at you with a surprised expression.

“Y/n-chan, are you okay?”

You nodded as you caught up with him, impressed that he even bothered to remember your name, and opened your backpack to retrieve the box of chocolates.

“For you senpai, Happy Valentine’s Day!” You gave him the most sincere smile you could muster and handed him the small box. Oh well, better for your cavities you suppose.

With a trembling hand he took the small gift and grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you! I’ll treasure it!” It was just a box of cheap chocolates, you thought, definitely not worth the excitement.

“Urm I’m happy you like them. Anyway, have a good day, see you around!” You practically dashed to your classroom, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t know why you were so nervous or why that silly grin of his made you so flustered.

As you sat down at your desk, you wondered if you did the right thing. You didn’t want him to believe you had feelings for him and you also hoped he didn’t think you did it out of pity. You just thought it was the right thing to do at that time and it was just a small gesture, definitely not worth a second thought.

Or so you hoped until White Day arrived and you found quite a surprising gift on your desk that morning. A large bouquet of roses, there must have been over a hundred. No note though, as if the person that had left them just expected for you to know whom they were from.

You could hear the whispers of your classmates and you shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t really popular, no reasons for someone to give you such an impressive present, so of course rumours began to spread.

As you sat on a bench during lunch break with the bouquet in your lap, you raked up your brain trying to figure out who would offer you flowers.

“Oh no, you don’t like them!”

Yuuta’s voice brought you back to reality and you blinked ever so slowly as you looked at his worried expression. Your eyes dropped to the red roses in your lap and then back to your senpai that was just a few feet away from the bench you were sitting.

“These...these are from you?” Well you did gift him that box of chocolates and this was White Day, technically he was supposed to return the gift. Still, a cheap box of bonbons couldn’t compare to the expensive bouquet that he had gifted back.

“Gojo-sensei said you’re supposed to buy something impressive in order to show your appreciation for the gift you received. I didn’t know what you liked and he suggested roses, he said all girls loved red roses.”

Of course it was Gojo Satoru, it was always Gojo Satoru.

“Senpai, thank you, but this is too much! Those chocolates weren’t really that expensive.”

“No, no, they were pretty good! I ended up eating the whole box! Gojo-sensei tried to steal one away, that didn’t end up well for him.” Good, you thought, he deserved it for unnecessarily complicating things.

“Well if you say so, then I’m happy. I’ve never received flowers before, well my father bought me a bouquet when I graduated middle school but I don’t think that counts.”

“I’ve never received chocolates before, so I guess we’re both at the beginning.” The beginning of what, you wondered, as he offered you a somewhat sly smile.

“I should get these to my room before they wither.”

“Yeah I should probably head to the training ground.” You said your respective farewells before going in opposite directions. This had been awkward to say the least and you were glad it was over.

However, naivety got the best of you. The next morning you were greeted by a large teddy bear that was placed in your seat. Your eyebrow began to twitch as you heard whispers spreading in the classroom.

“Hey is that from Okkotsu? Super creepy!”

“Yeah, poor Y/n-chan.”

“What do you mean by that?” Your patience had reached its limit and with narrowed eyes you turned to look at the girls you heard whispering.

“Don’t you know, Okkotsu curses his lovers!”

“Yeah, he becomes obsessed with them and then they die in mysterious ways!”

“That is literally the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in my life.” Sure, you knew the story of Rika, but from actual reliable sources you also knew that it was a tragic accident that happened when Yuuta was only a child. It was disturbing how they twisted the story just because they were afraid of him.

“If you have this much time to waste on spreading such stupid rumours then I suggest you channel that energy in training. Otherwise you’ll be stuck at grade 4 until the end of days.” As a grade 2 sorcerer yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have looked down on them, but for some reason the way they were acting towards Yuuta was just infuriating and you found yourself becoming quite protective.

You never snapped at them like this before, if anything you were considered quite docile, so the whole class fell silent. You grabbed the giant teddy bear from your seat and stomped towards the door, nearly bumping into Gojo as the later stepped inside the room.

“Where you going Y/n-chan? Class is about the start.”

“I’m going to find Yuuta!” You huffed and walked out of the classroom, knowing full well that you will probably get punished for your actions.

“Y/n-chan is so determined! Everyone, you should have more determination as well!” That was the last thing you heard as Gojo closed the door behind you.

You began your search for Yuuta, trying to ignore the looks that the faculty members you came across were giving you. You must have looked quite ridiculous, carrying that large teddy bear around.

You finally found him near the armoury, and judging from his sweaty appearance you guessed he had just finished training.

“Senpai!”

He looked at you, almost in a panicked way and you quickened your pace so he couldn’t make a run for it.

“Y/n-chan, what-”

“Senpai, this has to stop.” You really didn’t want to tell him your real motives from that day but you also couldn’t let this chain of gifts continue.

“That box of chocolates wasn’t initially for you. I bought it for myself, I only gave it to you because senpai looked so upset. I’m sorry that you misunderstood, it’s not pity or anything, I just thought you deserved it.” You didn’t even stop to breath, you had to let it all out and explain before you lost your nerve. “I’m really happy you liked them but I don’t deserve all these presents in return.”

You looked at him and expected to see anger or disappointment, instead you were greeted with light laughter.

“You’re really cute! Maki-san said not to tease you too much because you’re such a good girl. I guess she didn’t realize how much of a good girl you actually are.” The way he said ‘good girl’ made your heart skip a beat. It sounded almost provocative.

Within a second, he had closed the distance between the two of you and his hand reached to stroke your cheek ever so gentle. Suddenly he was there and you became hyperaware of his powerful presence. You noticed the pretty colour of his eyes, how his hand was just a bit rough and how that small smirk of his made your knees weak and your cheeks burn. You gulped and he seemed to enjoy your reaction.

“I don’t mind that the box of chocolates wasn’t for me. I’m just glad it gave me the opportunity to talk to you.” At this point you felt so bad you hoped the earth beneath you would just crack open and swallow you whole.

“Anyway, you should probably head to class before Gojo-sensei gets upset. Let me get that for you.” He reached for the teddy bear in your arms but you gripped it and pulled back.

“I would like to keep this, it’s a special gift from senpai and I’ll treasure it.” Sure this all began because of a silly box of chocolates but you were also happy that you finally got to see a glimpse of him that not many people got the chance to see. Now that you had a taste of it, you wanted more.

“Well I wasn’t planning on taking it away, just wanted to help you carry it.”

“It’s fine, the whole school saw me already so I might as well parade with it back to class.”

He studied your face for a few moments before his expression turned serious.

“Y/n-chan, do you think we could go-”

“I’d love to go on a date!”

You beat him to it but you wanted to make sure he knew, even before asking, that you really wanted to get to know him better.

“I see, I’m really happy.” His hand reached for yours and gripped it gently. It never failed to surprise you how cool and confident he looked at times and then he did a one hundred eighty and turned into this awkward and adorable mess.

“I must admit this is the first time I’ve asked someone out. I’ll be sure to ask Gojo-sensei-”

“Oh no, please promise me to never ask Gojo-sensei for advice concerning girls.” He was probably laughing like a mad man while giving Yuuta such cringe worthy ideas for your gifts.

“Oh but sensei said girls love swans and-”

“Never!”

#jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuuta x reader #gojo satoru #yuuta okkotsu

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