#because that one is actually important. thankfully the whole point of it is to be a breakfast meeting so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miinatozakiii · 1 month

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watch me take my time

park jihyo x fem!reader ; fluff, smut ; read tutor perks first! this is pt. 2

synopsis: surprising the woman you're dating with tea and pastries turns into a steamy evening, and a more sentimental morning after

warnings: mommy kink ; jihyo receving, reader giving ; jihyo in control for the most part ; smut! ; smut :3 ; and smut ; cursing ; fucking on the couch!!! ; face riding ; yeaahh anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread, as always lol

a/n: hey! i wasn't sure what to do for a part two, i never know. i didn't really expect tutor perks to get THAT much attention. anyway, I just went with whatever I felt like, i hope you guys like it. lmk what you think!

the parking garage was quite mesmerizing, adorned with lush greenery and meticulously planned layouts. it was a stark contrast to the parking spot on campus that was a fifteen-minute walk from the main campus. compared to the $225 spot at your university, this was undeniably better.

“is this the right place?” sarah, your roommate, asks. “because if it is... you coined a whole sugar mommy.”

“oh shut up.” you say, blushing. sarah laughs at you, then gives you a little hug.

“whatever, get out my car. i have to go see my girlfriend.” sarah says jokingly, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

“yeah yeah, see you, love you, bye.” you mutter before getting out the car and shutting the door, watching sarah wave at you teasingly.

walking towards the actual building — littered with plants and the beauty of the exterior catching you off guard — just the sight of it was enough to make you nervous. still, you manage to open the door and step in, feeling intimidated almost immediately just from seeing everyone inside the lobby.

the corporate image time ten was right in front of you: men in suits tailored to perfection exuded an air of confidence as they made way through the bustling lobby, their attention divided between important phone calls and firm handshakes with other mirror images of themselves. meanwhile, women clad in sleek blazers formed clusters, their conversations punctuated by polite laughter and the occasional sip of coffee.

it was safe to assume that you didn’t really fit in, you couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water in the moment. so, while clutching a bag of pastries and a cup of iced tea from your shift at work, you made a conscious effort to blend into the background as you walked up to the lady behind the desk up front. thankfully, that wasn’t too hard given everyone had been occupied with their own things.

the lady, a shorter looking woman with hair tied up professionally, looked at you unamusingly. she raised a brow as you looked at her, putting a finger up to pause you in place since she looked like she was preoccupied with a phone call.

you balanced the small brown bag of pastries and iced tea in one hand, then moved over to fix the tote bag on your shoulder. the lady finished her call, then turned to you and spoke in a monotoned, uninterested tone.

“hi, how can i help you?”

“hi, um, is jihyo here? she’s still working, right?”

“and who are you?” she asks, looking offended that you even asked that question.

taken aback, you grow a little bashful and respond, “y/n l/n, i'm a...” you clear your throat, “friend of hers. she said if i wanted to stop by, now would be a good time.”

“yeah, alright. you expect me to believe you that miss park said you could stop by?”

“excuse me?” you say, immediately feeling belittled by her tone and look at you. “what do you mean by me? is there something wrong?”

the lady lets out a noise thats a mix of a laugh and a scoff. she sighs, looking down at her desk and pointing down at a paper before responding.

“miss park is a very busy woman, you know that, right? i have to make sure that this is an urgent thing, otherwise, you can see yourself out the door.”

the condescending tone in the desk lady's voice grates on your nerves, sparking irritation within you. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead fixing her with a steely gaze as you suppress the retort bubbling up inside you.

"i get that jihyo is busy, seriously," you reply evenly, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. "i'll call her right now if you need confirmation. i have her number and everything. she even texted me—"

"she what?" the desk lady interrupts, her expression shifting from dismissive to incredulous. "you-- you have her personal number?"

"of course i do, it's jihyo we're talking about," you respond matter-of-factly, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the surprise evident in the woman's reaction.

"i didn't think—wow," the desk lady stammers, clearly caught off guard. she clears her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "miss park doesn’t give anyone here her personal number. s-sorry, i'm a bit taken aback. i'll have someone escort you. i'm sorry for the inconvenience, miss—"

"it's y/n," you interject, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the sudden shift in demeanor from the desk lady. it's almost amusing how quickly she seems to have changed her tune, now treating you with an unexpected level of deference.

the desk lady nods and begins making arrangements for your escort, you can't help but feel a sense of validation at the realization of just how highly regarded jihyo must be. the fact that you have her personal number suddenly feels like some sort of badge of honor, you must be lucky to just know her or interact with her casually—especially in bed, that must be better than any trophy or award. maybe even better than a grammy or something.

a tall, frail older man is by your side in the next minute. before you leave, the lady smiles at you – maybe a little forced given the unnatrual expression – then picks up the phone again, seemingly dialing a number.

the man leads you to an elevator and presses the second to last button, indicating the 11th floor. as the elevator ascends, you stand beside him, taking note of his impeccable posture and the condition of his suit. not a single crease in the fabric, he had to be some kind of perfectionist.

when the elevator doors slide open on the 11th floor, the man steps aside and gestures for you to exit first. his actions are formal, almost ceremonial, and you can't help but feel a sense of significance in the gesture. despite being just a girl who's clocked off work, you find yourself appreciating the unexpected treatment. you’re not against any of this treatment, however.

once you step out of the elevator, the man gestures for you to follow him down the corridor. as you walk, you can't help but be captivated by your surroundings. the corridor is lined with large windows that offer expansive views of the city, bathing the space in natural light and providing a breathtaking backdrop as you continue through the building.

the floor itself is decorated with tasteful elegance, oozing an air of professionalism and refinement. everything is thoroughly arranged, from the sleek furniture to the artful accents that adorn the walls. it's a space that balances functionality and cliche professionalism with an aesthetic appeal, creating an atmosphere that feels both welcoming and authoritative. if this is just one of the floors, you can’t even imagine how wonderful the rest of the building is. maybe jihyo will get to show it to you sometime.

passing by the employees that type away or take calls, he leads you to a room that has large windows, displaying the blinds that block whatever – or whoever – is inside. a sign is plastered on it that says park jihyo, indicating that this is right where you wanted to be.

he knocks on the door three times – somehow sophisticated and professional – then says in his deep voice,

“miss park, i'm sorry to interrupt. you have a visitor.”

silence takes over for a bit before the door is opened, revealing a tired looking jihyo in her blazer and slacks. she doesn’t see you at first, sending daggers at the man covering you before saying in a stern tone,

"chang, you know i'm busy with emails—" jihyo begins, her voice trailing off as she catches sight of you standing in the doorway. immediately, her demeanor softens, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

clearing her throat, she regains her composure and gestures for you to enter her office. "ah, y/n, come in," she says, her voice warm and welcoming. turning to the man, chang, she nods in appreciation. "chang, you're dismissed. thank you for escorting her."

chang nods respectfully and takes his leave, leaving you alone with jihyo in her office. as the door closes behind him. jihyo wastes no time in closing the distance between you as soon as the coast is clear.

her hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you close with a gentle yet firm touch. you feel a rush of warmth as her lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. her smile is evident even in the midst of the kiss, and you can't help but mirror her expression, returning the affection with the curve of your own lips.

you pull away, lips inches apart. jihyo smiles at you sweetly.

“what are you doing here?”

“you said you would be relatively free, i just got off work. i got you something to eat, figured you’d be hungry and... i wanted to see you.”

it's been almost three months since your first – very intimate – night with jihyo. the two of you continue to see each other, both intimately and regularly. dating jihyo has been pretty nice, though both of you have times where you don’t have time to see each other, so it’s nice to have moments like these.

as the weeks turn into almost three months, your relationship with jihyo continues to evolve. jihyo asked you out on proper dates, rather than her eating you out, she wanted to eat something else and get to know you better.

despite the demands of your respective schedules, the two of you make a concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. whether it's her inviting you over when her nephew isn’t around to evenings spent curled up together on the couch or having wine and a conversation. every moment shared with jihyo was precious

dating jihyo has brought a sense of joy into your life, a feeling of being understood and cherished in a way that you've never experienced before, none of your high school relationships made you feel this way. and while there are times when conflicting schedules and obligations pulled you apart, those moments only serve to make the time you spend together even more precious.

“you’re so sweet honey, come, sit.” jihyo says thankfully, guiding you to the large couch that gives you an even better view of the city.

you sit next to her and place the goods on the table, then immediately. she rests her head against your shoulder. a smile plays across your lips, and slight worry seeps into your skin. jihyo must be tired, judging from how limp she is against you, so you grab her hands and hold them gently, rubbing her knuckles and letting her relax a bit.

as you sit down next to jihyo and place the goods on the table, you can't help but notice the fatigue etched into her features. she leans her head against your shoulder, a smile plays across your lips as you feel her weight against you, but a slight twinge of worry creeps into your heart. jihyo must be exhausted, judging from how limp she is against you. without a word, you reach out and gently take her hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with hers.

you begin to rub her knuckles soothingly, hoping to ease some of the tension that seems to have taken hold of her. her fingers are a little bonier, hands noticeably more mature given the slight age gap between the two of you. a ring is around the base of her middle finger, something expensive looking with a small apricot-colored gem in it. in the warmth of your touch seems to relax her, and you can feel the tension slowly melting away as she leans into your embrace.

“you seem drained, was work exhausting?” you ask, turning to face her.

“just some really incompetent men and everything has been getting on my nerves. lots of deadlines that need to be met and some of my employees have been slacking.” jihyo sighs, “things are getting better, though. i made some... arrangements that should have things back in order.”

“i see.” you say, playing with her fingers. you press a kiss to the top of her head and reach for the iced tea, moving the straw to her mouth. “this should give you some energy, it’s the house tea, something peachy and sweet.”

“aw, you’re too kind, doll.” she says, pouting her lower lip before taking a sip. she takes a few more sips before grabbing the drink from your hand and setting it down on the table, then pecks your lips. “you’re seriously a gift, darling.”

almost three months and her little petnames still make your heart race, you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to them.

“sweetheart, if it’s not too much, could you massage my upper back? there's a lot of tension, god, it’s killing me.”

“of course.”

jihyo turns away from you so that her back faces you, and you place your hands on her tense shoulders. squeezing lightly to get her accustomed, she immediately relaxes into your touch, sighing as you massage her. she moves her head down so you can reach more of the stiff areas, and once your thumbs add more pressure, she lets out a louder sigh, more of a groan that makes you giggle, and leaving some room for imagination to other ways that can make her sound like that.

as jihyo turns away, her back facing you, you instinctively place your hands on her tense shoulders. with gentle pressure, you begin to massage her muscles, hoping to provide some relief from the tension that has accumulated there from whatever she’s been up to all day.

at first, jihyo tenses slightly at your touch, but as you continue to knead her shoulders, she gradually relaxes into your hands. a soft sigh escapes her lips as she leans into your touch, allowing you better access to the stiff areas of her muscles.

you adjust your position slightly, moving your hands to target the areas of greatest tension. with firm yet gentle pressure, you work your thumbs into the knots, eliciting a deeper sigh from jihyo's lips. the sound is more of a groan, and it sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a playful giggle.

“good?”

“ah- great.” she says through gritted teeth. she moves her hair over to once side, then asks, “can you get this side for me?” to which you respond with a hum.

as you continue to massage her shoulders, you can't help but let your mind wander, imagining other ways to draw out this genre of sounds from her. but for now, you're content to focus on the task at hand, providing jihyo with the comfort and relaxation she so desperately needs. and as you feel her muscles begin to loosen beneath your touch, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you're able to provide her with some relief.

however, this doesn’t necessarily mean that your mind is completely free of other intimate scenarios.

jihyo gets a little louder, failing to suppress the groans that slip past her lips. your hands slow down, instead, you start to slide your hands down her back and around her waist, gently placing them on the sides. leaning closer, you place a chaste kiss on the skin that isn’t covered by her hair, smirking into her.

“what are you doing honey?” she asks softly, turning her head just barely to catch you in her peripheral.

instead of responding verbally, you press longer, lingering kisses along jihyo's neck. with each gentle caress of your lips, she begins to relax further, her body responding to the intimacy of your affection.

sensing her movement, you feel her hand come to rest lightly on your head, her fingers tangling softly in your hair. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth spreads throughout your body as you continue to place kisses along her neck.

slowly, almost imperceptibly, jihyo begins to turn toward you, her movements guided by the gentle coaxing of your lips against her skin. as she shifts, her hand remains on your head, the gentle pressure of her touch grounding you in the moment. with each kiss, you feel the tension melting away from jihyo's body.

finally, when she’s turned towards you, you catch her lips with your own. jihyo hums into the kiss, her hand moving from your head to the base of your neck, then to your shoulder.

you pull away briefly to mutter, “feeling better?” to which jihyo responds by pulling you in by the hem of your jacket, closing the distance again.

as the kisses between you and jihyo grow soft and slow, a familiar heat begins to build between you. your tongues meet again, this wouldn’t be the first time for sure.

feeling a surge of need coursing through you, you subtly shift your position, guiding jihyo down until she's reclining on the couch. with a smooth, fluid motion, you position yourself on top of her, your body pressing against hers, heat radiating off the two of you.

in this moment, you find yourself taking control – in contrast to how it usually goes. as you deepen the kiss, your hands roam freely over jihyo's body, tracing the curves of her figure before sliding your hands under the edge of her shirt. she gasps at the feeling of your fingers on her skin, leaving you to kiss the corner of her mouth and trail down.

with jihyo beneath you, her body yielding to your touch as you trail kisses down to her neck, you feel a sense of power and satisfaction wash over. you nip gently at her neck – careful not to make any noticeable marks – while she claws at your clothing.

“baby-- darling, god,” she groans as you nip at the right spot with your teeth. she lets you indulge for a few minutes more, clearly enjoying it as much as you do before halting your actions as you slide your hands up closer to her chest under her shirt.

you pause, pulling away and looking at her with confusion, “sorry, too much?”

“never too much,” jihyo assures, placing a hand on your cheek while she catches her breath. “my employees are outside.”

your eyes widen, then you get the message and mutter, “oh.”

jihyo giggles at your response before lifting her head up to kiss you deeply again, pulling away with a noticeable sound made from your lips parting. “you’re adorable.” she says before grabbing your phone out your pocket and checking the time briefly. “my nephew isn’t home, so how about we get situated at my place? i should’ve left the office thirty minutes ago.”

“anything you’d like.”

with jihyo’s purse in your hand, you follow her into the house. the lights are off and it’s clear that no one’s home, leaving many possible opportunities for the two of you and even more scenarios to run through your head.

“have you had dinner? and don’t say you’ve had those pastries, that’s not enough darling.” jihyo says lightheartedly, though stern enough to let you know she’s serious. she places her purse on the counter and takes off her blazer, which reveals the shirt hugging her figure neatly. she's looking through the purse now, back faced you and you can’t help but check her out briefly. “if not, i'll order takeout.”

“that’s perfect.” you respond. jihyo turns towards you and grins, walking over and pecking your lips.

“yeah, i'll grab us some wine. order anything you’d like, love.”

“i’ve been craving bento bowls, is something japanese fine?”

“anything is fine, i'm starving even after that scone.” jihyo giggles, “also, it’s almost six. i have a little work call to answer, but after that we have the rest of tonight and the weekend if you’re not occupied with classes.”

“perfect, i'll just order for pick up then and then i'll be back in time for us to eat and whatnot. sound okay?” “that’s lovely, then i'll have to find my favorite wine for us. the best for the best.”

you giggle before pressing your lips against hers again, pulling away just barely before she closes the distance again. her arms rest on her shoulders as she pushes you closer, then she deepens the kiss.

without thinking, you move yourselves over so that jihyo’s against the counter, your hands sliding under her shirt yet again and lips sliding down to the soft skin on her neck. she groans at the feeling, tilting her head back to give you more access to her as she tightens her hold on your shoulder.

“later tonight,” you mutter in between kisses, rubbing circles on her skin under her shirt. “let me help you relax, yeah?” you nip at her skin lightly and she lets out a sharp breath, hand moving to the side of your neck. “let me do the work this time, you deserve to sit back for once.”

“y/n--” jihyo begins, but is cut off by the sound of a phone ringing against the counter. she groans in frustration; this is the angriest you’ve seen her. her brows furrow and she tenses her jaw as she picks up the phone, then looks at you apologetically.

“you should take that.”

jihyo sighs, then kisses your nose. “you should order dinner.”

“mhm.” you mumble before kissing her jawline, removing your hands from under her shirt and jihyo whines just barely. her skin seems colder now that your hands aren’t on them, tracing patterns and rubbing up and down the landmarks.

jihyo gave you the keys before you had left, so you didn’t have to ring the doorbell or anything – you assumed she’d still be on that work call.

as you enter the room, you find jihyo standing against the counter, her posture tense and her expression drawn with frustration. she's wearing something different: a cropped t-shirt and comfy sweatpants instead of her work attire. with one hand, she pinches the bridge of her nose, while the other holds a phone to her ear. she listens intently, her brow furrowed in concentration, as she navigates the seemingly irritating conversation on the other end of the line.

one arm crosses defensively while her gaze remains fixed on some distant point on the wood floor. to her left, on the smooth marble countertop, you notice two glasses and an unopened bottle of white wine.

“yes, i already have my employees on it.” you hear her say, tone stern yet level. “look, according to the results and feedback we’re doing fine, so i don’t understand why this meeting is still in session. i know you want to be secure, but doubting me won’t secure what’s already set. everything is fine, so go talk to samuel if you really want to bicker with someone who can’t do their job. he's been slacking with his unit; i've seen the data. goodbye.”

a small “ugh” is muttered under her breath before she places the phone down, then looks over to see you standing in the entrance of the hallway. a smile tugs at her lips immediately upon seeing you.

“two teriyaki salmon bentos for the struggling college student and her beautiful, older, hardworking, hot older woman.”

jihyo snickers, laughing at your stupid little titles. “calling me old?”

“well maybe... i’m into that though, so stay old.”

jihyo rolls her eyes at you, then watches you pull out the to go bowls out onto the table nearby. she walks over herself and brings the glasses and the wine bottle over. before she takes out the cork with her tool, she places a kiss on your cheek and mumbles against you a soft, “thank you.”

you grin and kiss her back before going back to the kitchen to grab utensils, and then back to the table to sit down next to your lover.

grabbing the boxes and handing jihyo a spoon, you ask, “how was your day? work seemed rough.”

a sigh leaves her lips, her aura radiating exhaustion and irriation, yet she stays calm and content before your eyes.

“just a lot of deadlines and dreadful people to deal with today, but it’s over and you made me feel better.”

“i’m glad.” you say, putting a hand on her thigh. “let’s eat, maybe you’ll be less exhausted.” to which jihyo responds with a nod and a kiss to your knuckles.

the sliding door in front of you two gave a great view of the setting sun, which made dinner quite romantic. jihyo shared more about her day, though it was mostly complaints mixed with frustrated grunts and groans when bringing up the men she had to face. you on the other hand, shared some small anecdotes from your shift and your roommate's own drama to jihyo, which she enjoyed listening to. before you knew it, dinner was finished – bowls clean and all, barely any remnants of the food left – which urged you two to throw away the plastic containers and head to the couch to sit and sip on wine.

jihyo sat beside you and swirled her wine around before sniffing, then took a small sip. you did the same, eyes lighting up from how good it was, which made jihyo laugh. and then the two of you went on to talk about more small things, ranging from what annoyed each of you during the day and things you both looked forward to.

the next thing you knew, your head was against jihyo’s shoulder, and your now empty glass was set on the table with hers.

“at least the day is over, hyo.”

she snickers upon hearing the name, then turns to you with a smile.

“hyo?”

“sorry, don’t like that name?”

“no, i love it. it's cute.” she assures, “adorable.”

“yeah?” you say, grinning. shifting yourself up to sit up right, you brush a strand of hair behind jihyo’s ear. “any plans tomorrow?” you ask, staring at her lips blatantly.

“no, what are you up to darling?”

you giggle and run your hand down to her jaw, placing your thumb on her lip and applying subtle pressure.

“let me help you relax tonight.” you simply answer, smirking devilishly. “seems like you need it.”

in no time, your lips make their way over to hers, you kiss her slowly and savor her. she places her hand on your shoulder, gripping slightly as you deepen the kiss.

your hands find their way under jihyo’s shirt again in no time, though at first, your fingers simply brush against her skin before doing anything big. you're taking your time exploring her, finding out which area on her rib makes her kiss sloppier or her breath shorter. you feel her responding to your touch, her movements becoming more urgent, more fervent.

jihyo's hands roam over your body in tandem with your own explorations, one hand in your hair and the other on the base of your wrist. you're both consumed by the heat of the moment, kisses with more tongue, breaths heavier, and jihyo’s groans getting louder. it's perfect.

you create a gap between the two of you after pulling away, your own breath heavy. jihyo looks at you: red, puffy lips and peach colored cheeks from the intimacy.

looking down at the edge of jihyo’s shirt, you silently ask to take it off by playing with the edge of the fabric.

“take it off.” she says lowly, almost an order.

nodding, you slip the shirt off, gazing at her clad chest.

you've seen her naked before – more than you can count on one hand – yet, she still manages to leave you in awe.

“fuck, you’re beautiful.” you sigh, immediately making your way over to her neck. “i could have you like this all day.” you groan against her skin, right before sucking near her pulse point so harshly to the point where she moans your name out, subconsciously gripping your hair and tugging so roughly it hurts your scalp.

blindly, you start to unclasp her bra, discarding it somewhere in the room – you could care less where it landed – and tending to the new area exposed.

a brush of your finger on her nipple already has it perked up, making her groan loudly. saying it’s music to your ears would be an understatement, it’s better than any symphony.

“y/n, baby,” jihyo moans, feeling a wetness pooling down in between her legs. “ah-”

your mouth lands on her chest, then down to her tits. you press a chaste kiss to her tits, making her look down at you with furrowed brows and parted lips. with full eye contact, you travel to the swell of her breast, finding your way to her nipple and swirling your tongue around. the way you suck on her sensitivity is enough to make her groan right in front of your face. the way her mouth gapes and oh, how lovely she sounds; you could get used to this for sure.

and later you pay attention to her other breast, treating it with the same care and evoking more lewd sounds from the older woman. the way she folds under your touch, twitching and slowly losing herself while she’s weak to you; jihyo could use more rest days, especially ones that have hours dedicated to you indulging in her.

moments later, after earning at least a song’s duration of jihyo’s indescribable pleasure seeping from her lips, you decide to look at the mess you’ve made.

marks of pink ranging to a darker red – even a near purple – are littered all over her skin, from her neck to all over her chest area. you bite your lip at the sight, rubbing your finger along a few of the hickeys.

“y/n, baby,” jihyo starts, looking at you intensely. “shirt off, down on the couch now. don't make me ask twice.” she orders breathlessly, narrowing her eyes and expecting immediate obedience – which she receives without question.

despite how much you’ve riled up and left her, she still has that natural authority. there's absolutely no way you could disobey her, at the end of the day, no matter what you’ve done to her; you belong to jihyo now, no doubt.

“yes ma’am.”

as you slip the shirt off in one motion, jihyo uses that short duration of time to slip off her comfortable pants, discarding them and slipping her panties off. she watches you – who's watching her in return – you're propped up by your elbows as you watch her sit on your lap, feeling your pussy throb just from the feeling of her bare cunt on the denim covering your heat.

“good girl, always. you know how to listen to me, glad you know your place.”

“of course.” you say, looking at her with desperate eyes.

“you know how i've told you about today, yeah? it was so difficult, so many incompetent people. you’re going to listen to me, okay? you're gonna let mommy use you just like the good girl you are, got it?”

taken aback by the new title, you hesitate to respond, too entranced by the sight in front of you: jihyo completely naked, on your nap, with her hands resting on your abdomen to hold herself up. when she doesn’t get a response from you, she grinds harshly against your lap, earning a pathetic whine from you.

she presses her hand down on your abdomen harder, earning a sharp breath from your lips.

“you answer me when i talk to you, i won’t say this again.”

“y-yes, sorry.”

she leans closer, her face above yours and gaze sharp. “yes who?”

with no hesitation, you correct yourself. “yes mommy, i'm sorry, i'll be a good girl from now on.”

jihyo smiles, pleased to say the least.

“down on the couch then honey, on your back.” she says gently, though there’s still that stern tone.

you gulp, then nod. jihyo smiles as you set your head down, putting your arms off to the side so your hands can gently caress her thighs. she gets up on her knees, repositioning herself so that her cunt is hovering above your chin, then stroking your cheek lightly. you look at her with puppy eyes, silently begging for her to let you get a taste; she gets the message almost immediately, then sets her cunt right above your mouth.

your hands reach for the sides of her waist, moving her down just an inch so you can get a taste of her arousal.

she groans again, throwing her head back before looking back at you with creased brows: your cheeks are red, your eyes are closed, and you’re humming against her while you eat her out ravenously. the last time you had eaten someone out had been a while ago, and jihyo’s been the one fucking you to oblivion since the first night with her. you're following her body, sliding your tongue up her folds and sucking on her clit once you reach. she gasps and grips your hair the way you like it, rough and demanding. her nails dig into your scalp, and you let out a little moan yourself, turned on just as much as you are when she’s doing everything to you.

attentive to the sounds she’s making, you keep doing what earns the more pleasing reactions. she's griding against the flat of your tongue, forcibly pushing your mouth into her wetness the more you indulge. she's moaning louder, her deep, mature voice growing breathy and higher pitched the more you please her.

and then she shifts your lips over to the left side of her clit, so you suck and lick and groan until the living room is filled with the sound of squelches of her pussy and your mouth coming into contact mixed with moans that fade into nothing as they’re caught in throats. jihyo's cursing more and more, holding you in one spot with that one hand gripping onto your hair like there’s no tomorrow whilst she grinds herself on your tongue and completely uses you.

“y/n, y/n darling, honey, fuck, ah-!” she cries out, shaking until she isn’t, propping herself up with one hand on your hip bone and the other loosening her grip on your now disheveled hair. she grinds slowly now, still stimulating the aching between her legs whilst you clean up all her climax with your tongue.

slowly, you take your time licking up her folds, savoring her. a press to her clit later and you're pressing more on her inner thigh until she shifts herself off your face and back to your lap.

she runs a hand through her hair – some strands sticking to her forehead.

you catch your breath, then sit up a little bit, jihyo still in your lap.

“feeling better?” you ask, your hand settling on her explosed ribcage before moving up to cup the bottom of her tit.

“much better.” she grins, fixing the hair she’s ruined. strands fall over your face, she runs a few fingers through to fix it up again.

laughing, you lean closer to press a kiss to her lips, smirking once you part away.

“y/n,” jihyo begins, twirling a piece of hair with her fingers. “you’ll be a good girl, right?”

you nod.

“good, because the night isn’t over.” she says menacingly, looking at you with darkened pupils. “on the ground, on your knees. you're gonna eat mommy out until she’s satisfied, got it?”

“yes ma’am, yes mommy.” you say, immediately switching positions.

jihyo watches you move over to the ground, the visible patch of arousal apparent on your denim as you kneel. she traces down the grooves of your torso, indulging in the sight before sitting back and spreading her legs.

seeing her like this, you lick your lips. you're like an obedient puppy, eager to receive her approval and eager to serve her in any way she sees fit.

jihyo raises her brows at the sight and smiles devilishly at how pathetic you look. she gives you the green light after relishing your submission.

“eat.”

just like every other morning, you’re stuck in jihyo’s bed half naked. some sports bra covers the upper half of your body, and boy shorts hug the skin just below your waist. the older woman’s hands are wrapped around your waist, one hand sitting on the exposed hip bone that pops out, and she’s warm against you, her chest rising and falling against your back.

shifting subtly in your place, you turn over to face her.

her face is bare, no makeup on and it’s just jihyo before you. she's rubbing her hands on the exposed skin on your hip, mumbling something groggily under her breath. it's been a while since you’ve seen her like this – it's been a bit since you’ve been alone with her, really alone, just the two of you and no one else or worry of interruption.

“mm, honey,” jihyo mumbles, and you can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep while saying this. “closer.”

“okay.”

you find your nose in the crook of her neck, smelling faint hints of lavender while you press closing. she rubs your shoulder with her thumb, tracing patterns and shapes you can’t really put a name on. the sun hits her eyes, you hear a little groan, and then a little yawn that gives you the hint that she’s fully awake.

a hand finds itself tangled in your hair, then massages your scalp. “did you sleep alright?” jihyo asks, voice gentle and caring as she holds you.

“i slept great, you?”

“wonderfully.”

a kiss is pressed to your forehead and fingers play with the rim of your boy shorts. a soft smile plays across your face, you close your eyes and breathe out.

“sweetheart.” jihyo hums, tapping your shoulder.

“hm?”

“i realized i've never really, fully expressed how thankful i am for you.”

upon hearing jihyo’s sentimental words, you pull away from where your face had been nestled, face to face with jihyo now.

“what?”

“i haven’t been that, well--” jihyo’s face flushes – to oyur surprise – she looks down at your clad chest, then back at your eyes. “relaxed. you helped me unwind, thank you.”

you can’t help but giggle, finidng all of this so cute. jihyo had been ordering you around last night, moaning so loud the neighbors probably heard. you can still feel a little ache in your scalp from how roughly she was pulling at your hair; everything about the night before was so lewd. it's funny how vulnerable and cute jihyo’s being right now, letting her heart do the talking.

“you’re adorable, hyo.” you sigh, looking at her with admiration. “i’m glad i was there to help, and i'm looking forward to helping out whenever you want.”

“y/n.” jihyo begins, placing her hand on your cheek and looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “will you be my girlfriend?”

giggling again upon hearing the seriousness in her voice and the adorable look on her face, you nod.

“of course.”

at the end of the weekend – a beautiful sunday evening, the sky painted hues of pink and purple – you’re in your desginated spot: the passenger’s side of jihyo’s car.

both of you sit in silence as jihyo exits the freeway, some pop song playing on the radio. her hand is intertwined with yours, elbows sitting on the little compartment that seperates the two seats. she's humming along and it’s music to your ears, you’re smiling ear to ear as you watch her.

sunglasses sit on the crown of her head, her side profile staying in its place while the scenery behind her flashes by as the car moves forward. she's beautiful.

once you reach your apartment complex, jihyo parks somewhere close.

“don’t move, just stay there.” you warn her, sounding all serious and looking at her with raised brows.

“darling, what?” she asks, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips. she giggles once you leave the car hurriedly, rushing towards the other side to open her door.

“miss park.” you say, putting your hand out. jihyo laughs, amused at your little gesture. she takes your hand and steps out, rolling her eyes at you.

“you’re unbelieveable.”

“well, after seeing how scared everyone was at your work place the other day, i feel like i should treat you better.”

“you’re my girlfriend, not my employee y/n.” jihyo scoffs, then kisses the back of your hand.

once you make it to your apartment, you knock on the door, waiting for the familiar face to open the door for you.

sarah opens the door a few seconds later, eyes widnening upon seeing you and jihyo right in front of her – hands holding and all.

“oh my god you really did manage to get with her.” sarah says in disbelief, making you roll oyur eyes and the little comment making jihyo snicker. “you’re jihyo? wow, oh my god, you look so young – i mean, you are, like--”

“i get what you mean, thank you.” jihyo responds lightheartedly, smiling at the woman in front of her.

the two of you step in and sarah is still examining jihyo, baffled by how unreal she looks – and wow, your descriptions and rambles about this woman did not prepare her for this meeting. jihyo sets herself down on the couch and sarah pulls you to the side quickly before the two of you join her.

“oh my god when you said older woman i didn’t expect godly cheekbones, jawline sharper than a knife, and fucking luxury to show up holding your hand.”

“she’s amazing.”

“ugh, you’re drooling.” sarah sighs.

you smile at your roommate like a proud little kid, pushing her lightly before joining your now girlfriend on the couch.

maybe majoring in education was worth it, you think to yourself as you watch sarah grin at the two of you from across where you’re sitting. despite your dreadful research papers, essays, and mock lectures – all of it was worth it if it meant meeting jihyo.

sarah puts a leg over the other, leaning back against the smaller seat in your living room.

“you know, y/n has been gushing over you since like, the first time she tutored your nephew. she's kept me up at night just talking about--”

“sarah!”

#miinatozakiii #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #park jihyo #twice jihyo #jihyo imagines #jihyo x reader #park jihyo x reader

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jarofstyles · 4 months

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Illicit- 4

Heyyyy my loves! Here is part 4 of Illicit and a better look into Harry's behavior without Y/N... not a nice man but he's OUR man <3

Check out our Patreon where we have exclusive writings and early access to the next 2/3 parts of Illicit!

Series Masterlist

Wc- 3.3k

warnings- asshole h, infidelity, slight violence, paparazzi

---------

Harry was reaching a boiling point.

Katherine had stolen him away from Y/N for the night, under the guise her father set as a business dinner. Said he had something to discuss with him at a new, up and coming restaurant that it was imperative that he came tonight. He had to peel himself away from Y/N who was curled on his couch with her laptop in her lap, doing a bit of clothing shopping while he leaned against her to help veto and approve on things she was on the fence about. He had been having a very good time being domestic this afternoon to be forced away was already pissing him the fuck off.

So to find a table clear of said man and just see his daughter there with a scheming beam on her face? It was the worst possible option. Of course, she assured him that her ‘daddy’ would be coming shortly, but by the time their entrees arrived, Harry was fairly certain of what was happening.

H: I need wine when I get home.

Y/N: Yeah.. someone sent me an article.

Harry’s stomach dropped when she sent the link, an article that must have only been published just a few moments ago. A photo of a preening Katherine across from him had been snuck. Thankfully his face was blank, ever so practiced. She was leaning across the table with a preen all over her face, the angle taken so you couldn’t see the third drink set out for her father who was mysteriously not there.

This had to be a set up. He wasn’t giving the image of the doting, in love boyfriend that Katherine wanted and she was obviously a bit more cunning than he had originally anticipated. He was beginning to piece things together again, and he was getting more furious by the minute.

The real anger stemmed from being taken away from one of the rarer nights he didn’t have work to check up on periodically, and he’d cleared it just for her. It was like she somehow knew how to piss him off out of some fucked up intuition. While Y/N had the owner's manual on how to make him happy, Katherine knew how to make him irrationally angry. Despite his asshole behavior he was still nice compared to the whole plethora of things he wanted to tell her.

He had no qualms about embarrassing her publicly. It’s where she had weakness. Her reputation.

H: I’m leaving in a moment. I have a theory about this. Brant Jr never showed up.

Y/N: Seriously????

H: Yes. What ice cream do you want me to pick up on my way home, my love?

Y/N: ……

Y/N: You’re good, H. Mint Choc pls <3

H: Anything for you. I’ll be home soon. Go get changed into something more comfortable.

Harry tucked his phone back in his pocket, turning to Katherine who had been watching him curiously. “So when are you going to admit you stole your father’s work phone and tricked me here?” He had waited until the waitress was in earshot. This was a story he wished would actually show up on TMZ. “Because I was having a very important evening and was torn away from people I had meticulously scheduled to come here and discuss ‘emergency business’ changes. I didn’t ask you to dinner because I didn’t have time for these silly things, and because I didn’t want to.” Harry tugged his wallet out. “You are childish. I knew that. But messing with important business shit because you’re trying to trick me into a dinner and planting one of your friends at another table to get some clicks for your weird fangirls living vicariously and extra money?” He pointed directly where he had found one of her friends, the redhead’s eyes widening as Harry caught her phone up and gave his stone cold glare. “My business isn’t a fucking game, Katherine. Wasting my time when I’m doing things because you’re throwing a childish tantrum because I can’t shower you in affection every hour of the day? What did we discuss last time?”

“Harry, darling, you’re being a bit loud-” Katherine chuckled nervously, eyes wide as she had been figured out. The waitress and tables close could clearly hear him. She hated negative attention and had been working at trying to market them as some sort of ‘it couple’, which wasn’t going to work for him anymore. He was growing tired of this scheme and really needed her to just end it so the contract could be over, null and void.

“I can be louder, if you want.” He said ruthlessly. “I can let all of your little friends know the image of our relationship you paint is a sham, that you try to make me out as someone who I never had been, and never will be for you. I am not in love with you, Katherine. I told you, if you wanted to date me that it would be on my terms. If that makes me an ‘asshole’” He sneered, “So be it. I’ve never lied about my stance in dating you. I let you prance around and use my name to get into clubs that your own last name is too irrelevant to get you into, I allow you to pose photographs of me though you know I despise it when you do, I allow you to use my yacht and I let you use my home in Los Angeles before I sold it to have one of those stupid influencer parties you love to post about although, I know you hate half of those girls.” He knew his voice was carrying, but he didn’t care. “You are the one hurting yourself by making this relationship out to be anything but it is. A means to an end.” For both of them, but she would know now just how onto her he’s been.

“I’ve let it go for a while. I’ve allowed you to do what made you feel better because if it kept you off of my back while I handled things on my own, I was fine.You even harassed my friends for the lake house keypad number, which is fucking pathetic.” it really was and Harry had been mad since then, but this was growing past a disrespect he was willing to accept. “ But you’re fucking with business now. I will not ever stand for it. If I say no, it means no. If I say not tonight, it means not tonight. If I say to stop calling, stop fucking calling me.” He let his voice seethe while his face remained mostly it’s usual cold sneer, throwing a few bills on the table. “Continue fucking with my business and see how that ends up. Your father could build up a company, and I can take it down just as fast.”

He stood up, righting his jacket as he watched her pale face, knowing he had just scared her. He didn’t care. Maybe there was something wrong with him, but he truly, to the bottom of his heart, didn’t care about her feelings. The one girl he cared about was waiting for her mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Are- Are you threatening me?” She shriekd quietly, making Harry pause, calling their waitress all the way over.

“It’s not a threat, but a promise.” There was no questioning that he meant it. Looking towards the waitress, he handed her a generous tip and nodded, leaving the restaurant to find flashing cameras. One particular flash pissed him off, and catching Harry in a bad mood was not a good thing to do.

His hand shot out, grabbing the surely expensive to the man’s camera, and threw it forcefully onto the pavement. It shattered into little pieces, the lens crackling on the sidewalk and the plastic of the body falling into shards, his blank stare going from the broken beyond repair camera to the sputtering camera man. His face was tomato red while Harry’s jaw remained sharp and clenched, raising a brow in challenge.

“What the fuck! My fucking camera!” He bellowed. “I’m gonna sue the fuck out of you!”

Harry grabbed his business card out from his pocket, handing it to the man. “Reach out. It will be a pleasure to beat you in court.”

His car was in the lot, which he quickly got to and peeled out of the parking lot. He wasn’t even inside of the shop yet when he got a call from Y/N. Her contact photo brought a smile to his face, answering it as he briskly walked inside the automatic doors and grabbed a little basket.

“Hi, my love.” He murmured, making his way towards the back, knowing the exact brand she wanted from the freezer.

“Did you really break a camera?” Y/N squeaked into the phone. It made him laugh, not pausing in his expedition. She was still relatively new to his life and didn’t seem to google him like everyone else who met him. Even if it felt like she was meant to be with him forever, that their souls had always been familiar, she hadn’t seen much of that side of him yet.

“Yes.” He hummed. “Shoved it in my face, blinded me for a moment. I was already angry. The photographers know it's a risk when I’m involved, darling.” It was sort of his thing. If people got too close, hit him with it, intruded on his personal space, he was quick to rid himself of the problem. They were lucky he chose the camera and not the person behind it. Harry really didn’t care, and he knew some would label him as toxic or maybe even crazy, but it wasn’t something he cared about. His temper was notorious.

“Christ! H!” Y/N laughed in disbelief. “Hannah sent me an article. There’s a video circling social media. I haven’t watched it yet.”

“Good. Don’t, it’s a waste of time yeah? Told you I’m an open book for you, sweetheart. Can ask me any questions you’d like when I get back to you.” He tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek, opening up the freezer door to grab their designated flavors. “Stay comfortable for me, I’m just about to check out and get home t’you. I’ll talk to you in a bit.” It was something Harry wished he could have happen every day. Going home to her. She was the centerpiece of his home now and her absence was palpable when he got home and she was at her own place or out and about.

They said their goodbyes and Harry found himself lost in his head as he used the self check out to pay for their sweets. He avoided most social interaction when he could because everyone always had a favor to ask him, a question, a dig. It was nice to be able to pay and avoid the pointless small talk with a cashier who usually didn’t give an actual shit, or someone who obviously gave far too much of one. His lone wolf lifestyle suited him just fine- but now Y/N fit into it. She wasn’t just anyone, her voice didn’t grate on his nerves, and he was in love with her. He figured adding another lone wolf to his life wouldn’t hurt- not when it was her.

—-

“Harry…” Y/N laughed, licking her spoon clean. “While I am most definitely proud of you for how quickly you can come up with comebacks and witty words, I’d prefer they not be needed at all.” Her smile faded, leaning further into him. The man had stripped himself of his suit and found his clothes after a quick shower, trying to rid himself of the disaster and waste of a night. Now he was going to be with the woman he had been looking forward to spending time with for the rest of the night.

“Unfortunately, s’part of the job.” His thumb rubbed over her shoulder as she leaned into the man, his neediness even more apparent when he’d plucked her up from her spot and sat down to settle her in his lap. “Paparazzi are, for some reason, something that still is a thing and they make a pretty penny on photos of me because I like to dodge them.” Harry was not the stereotype of a nepotism child. He did work for what was given to him but he was under no false pretenses. He knew that he was born into an almost impossible wealth, one that some of his peers had deluded themselves into thinking they could be anything. The so-called ‘self made’ millionaires as if they didn’t have billions to cushion their blow if they were to be shot down. He liked to hide away from the attention part of it the best he could, but sometimes appearing at things was a necessary evil.

“I know.” The angel in his lap grumbled. “I know it is but it still makes me irritated that you have to worry about it. That they’ve gotten so far in your face that you were even able to do that. It’s just rude and invading your privacy.” Her little pout did something to his formerly black, charred heart.

Y/N was his opposite in a good way. She was love and warmth and light and morals. Harry was cold, cruel, darkness. Iron compared to gold. If it were anyone else, he thinks he may be slightly annoyed by their cheerfulness, their optimism. Harry had seen a lot of the world and a lot of the bad sides of people, skeletons hidden in closets and the life of the elite. It was hard to be optimistic at times when he’d seen such hopelessness, but she managed to peel back some of the grimy layers in his dim outlook in life, his cynical snarks and soften the jagged edges just a bit. He wasn’t a changed man- no. He didn’t have rainbows out his ass, he wasn’t a warm being, but he held the new wick that was lit up in a dim glow when it came to her. He could be good to her. Thankfully Y/N wasn’t looking for more. She didn't want to change him.

“Oh, my love.” He sighed, his hand chilled from the ice cream coming up to her chin. “It’s alright. They’ll learn at some point. Besides… It isn’t a normal occurrence when I just go out, not normally. Katherine called them, I’m positive.” The mirth in his eyes returned at the reminder of the woman. “I’m going to call Brant tomorrow and let him know of the antics, but I’m going to threaten again. I don’t want to be under this contract anymore.” His voice quieted, looking at Y/N who dropped her eyes from his. His stomach twisted, knowing where her head went. “Hey, sweetness. Look at me.” He urged, trying to catch her eyes again. “You know that I’m looking for every way out, yeah? If I can’t use that, m’gonna move on to the next idea. It’s hard when I’m contract bound, but I’m going to make her break up with me.”

Honestly, he was surprised she hadn’t just from tonight. It had him suspicious of her. There was no way that her ego wasn’t bruised from his spiked tongue tonight. He’d made sure other people heard the verbal hits, made sure some of it would be sold to the same publication she was trying to make a few bucks off by planting her friends to take photos. There was a prayer in his mind that maybe that would move it on, make her give him up. Surely, she was someone’s dream trophy wife. Sure as fuck not his, but maybe someone else.

“I know. I just hate….” Y/N paused, giving her eyes back to him. “I hate that she makes you so miserable, but I’m glad that you hate her. I feel like an awful human being, but I just hate so much about her and It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me.”

This was news to Harry, surprisingly enough to actually show on his face. She’d mentioned disliking Katherine before but to see her struggling with her hatred towards the woman who was trying to claim her boyfriend as hers in the public eye, it made him feel even more guilty. He didn’t want this for her, he didn’t want her upset- but he knew that it was his own fault.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/N.” He said seriously. “I know that hatred isn’t something that your pretty heart feels a lot so m’sure it does feel a bit off but I promise you, it’s worth hating.” There was a pause, thumb squeezing her jaw slightly and watching as it popped open from the little trick. “If I had to see you out with someone else… I’d be murderous. If another man said you were his, I’d enjoy knocking every tooth from his skull.” His jaw tightened. There was no way. Every time he thought about it it made him ache, so he knew that it must be similar to her. Though he couldn’t imagine Y/N’s gentle soul to be murderous, she at the very least must be angry.

“Cool it, cowboy.” Y/N crooned, watching as his brain was visibly showing his thoughts on his face. “No one is coming to get me. I’m all yours.” It was like she was soothing a dragon. To be fair, Harry was pretty sure that if it could, smoke would be coming from his ears or his nose. Y/N could read him very well but to be honest, he did little to hide his emotions from her anymore. His girl was just good at knowing him, and he appreciated every moment of it. He couldnt lie and say that her insistence of being his didn’t please him- it absolutely did.

Harry had quite a few morally gray qualities and one was his possessiveness. Words like that, telling him that she was all his, it made him hard. Settled him in a primal, animalistic way and he wasn’t going to stop it. Y/N had been clued into it, knowing the exact right thing to sway his mood a different way. Knowing that the woman curled up to him thought of herself as his, that she was fully belonging to him and would be proud to be his as soon as they could be in the limelight. Harry would be equally as happy with people knowing he belonged to her, and he had no shame in labeling himself as so- but Y/N was playing into his weaknesses.

“You are, aren’t you? And I’m yours.” His voice dropped an octave, moving his hand down a little bit to cup the side of her neck. “No matter what she tries to play to the public, no matter the image shes trying to sell, I belong to you, sweetheart. Heart and soul. It’s all yours.” No truer words had been spoken. Harry was an honest man, most of the time, but this wasn’t something he would lie about. He wouldn’t declare his heart as hers if it wasn’t. “My messy little girl.” He swiped away a bit of ice cream from the corner of her lip with his free hand, bringing it to his mouth to suck it away, keeping her eyes on his. Her ice cream was melting in the tub in her hand, and Harry had a better idea on what too with it now.

“Let’s not talk about her anymore, my angel.” He suggested, gently moving her closer to him. “Why don’t you let me have my sweets now, yeah? Taste them off of you?”

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ofswordsandpens · 3 months

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just finished episode 6…. truly don’t know how to feel about these changes. would love to know your thoughts bc i’m just kinda baffled by some changes tbh

Mixed feelings as always:

Percy's dream slapped. I loved Kronos's actor. It felt perfectly eery. No notes.

No percabeth late night convo on the truck. This doesn't surprise me given we sort of did that on the train already, but now there's just another iconic book moment that we'll get bits and pieces of, but never actually get to see in its entirety/original setting.

I did vibe with the glass prism tool for the iris message and it was pretty cool. The Percy + Annabeth argument was great but I'm gonna be honest, Luke being like "you're arguing like an old married couple" was laying it on a tad thick to me idk idk. I know I'll probably be in the minority there lol but I think it would have liked the line better if Percy and Annabeth got more embarrassed to his statement but they both reacted to it like :/ so it just felt heavy handed on the show runners part more than anything

Lotus Hotel vibes? Lackluster. Uninspired. It just didn't capture that outrageous paradise for kids feeling from the book because they turned it into Hermes' hangout so there's a whole bunch more adults than kids. Basically felt like if you took the movie's version and turned down the energy of it by a mile lmao. (Which is also ironic given RR's post about it today).

And of course the kids immediately know what's happening so like. No fun mystery. No Percy figuring it out. Just them being like "omg we need to be careful" and then immediately separating from Grover lmao.

Okay. LMM's Hermes.... it wasn't bad. Thankfully there was no singing. He was fine. It's more or less that turning the Lotus story line into a Hermes' storyline was like an "okay, I guess we're doing this" thing. I mean I guess we finally introduced something for the non-book reader's to pick up on that Luke might not have the best relationship with his dad (and consequently the gods). But like, nothing about this storyline is something that isn't introduced later on in the books. Nor was it better or more interesting than the original lotus storyline in the books.

Again, its the constant replacement of everything fun and silly and absurd in the book and turning it into a very serious moment, is just like, killing the energy. Seriousness is good. Silliness is also good. The book balanced it greatly. The show struggles here.

Glad we got a Pan mention tho!! Finally!

But um 4 pearls, so no dilemma about who to save. A part of me is relieved because the show's created like 3 other sacrifice convo scenarios so its gotten bit reductive, but Sally being a part of the equation is an entirely different dynamic and now that dilemma is theoretically gone. (unless he loses one of the pearls?)

And Percy's missed the deadline?? Right?? So like? I really don't know what we're doing anymore. In the book the deadline was pretty strict lol. Here I guess the deadline was like, a loose suggestion? Percy's walking into the middle of the god's battle field with master bolt in his hand? Idk.

Overall things in the show feel messy and way less cohesive. They seem to know that certain things from the book are important but not necessarily why, or they'll introduce events or plot points strangely late or way too early.

#to summarize: always ending the episodes now with this :/ expression on my face #pjo show crit #there's more but just #yeah

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leviscolwill · 7 months

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sanctuary

pairing: jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: after an eventful singapore gp, the only thing you can think of is your comfy bed but your body has another plan and your boyfriend isn't happy about that. [wc: 1,6k]

req: Ferrari driver reader x jude where she feels a bit dizzy after a race and kind of faints when they get at the hotel, like just fluff with him taking care of her + CAN YOU WRITE JUDE ANGST THEN FLUFF IDC ABT THE SCENARIO JS JUDE ANGST IN JUDE X DRIVER READER 🙏🙏

contents: established relationship, charles is reader's teammate, ferrari being good au (impossible ik), reader faints, jude is a worried bf, barely has angst ngl 🏃‍♀️, nothing else i think

note: i have no idea how to write about fainting and it probably shows. ALSO, i wrote most of this at 1am so i hope it makes sense (probably doesn't but we move😪)

now playing: sanctuary by joji (nectar)

usually you would say you absolutely loved singapore. the track was one of your favourites on the calendar and you practically counted down the days to this race. but this week was probably the most difficult of your entire career in motorsports. of course, marina bay had never been an easy race, and the weather conditions in singapore were only making it harder to handle. but this year, no number of ice bath and cold shower could appease the dizzying headache that plagued your weekend.

and to add to that, everyone at the team has been stressing you out about the championship. obviously, you were grateful that you could finally fight for one, ferrari had built the perfect car this season. but this came with a price, fighting against charles for the title. you were great friends with your teammate but you had to admit your relationship took a toll with the constant tension between the two of you throughout the season. anyone wearing a bright red kit kept reminding you that you needed to be careful on track, that if you crashed with anyone, but especially with charles, you'd be in great trouble.

thankfully your boyfriend joined you after qualifying, and made your weekend instantly better. he noticed something was wrong right away. of course, you told jude about your struggles but he didn't expect to find you in this state.

"maybe you shouldn't race tomorrow..?"

you took a glance at jude, laid down on the hotel room bed, to check if he actually meant what he just uttered only to find a very serious look on his face.

"yeah, i'll just call fred to tell him i'm feeling sick and don't care about the championship anymore, that's definitely the best choice i have." sarcasm dripped out of your words as jude rolled his eyes.

"just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you have to give me an attitude." it was your turn to roll your eyes. you quietly got under the sheets and muttered a barely audible 'goodnight', clearly not having the energy to argue with him tonight.

as you closed your eyes you felt jude turn around to wrap you in his arms around you.

"i'm just worried for my girl, that's all." he said, softly kissing your hair. you turned around to face him, having to trace his face before finding his lips because of the darkness of the room, and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"i appreciate your concern, i really do. but this race is so much more important than a silly headache. i'll be okay." you kissed him again for good measure. "you're gonna have to trust me with this one."

"i always trust you." the two of you talked some more before falling asleep in each other's arms.

—

the only thing you could think of when you stepped out of your car was your bed. as expected the race had been particularly draining and truth be told, you didn't know if you would be able to stand on the podium in your state. you managed to score a satisfying p2, well it would have been more satisfying if charles wasn't standing on the highest step of the podium, with a 4-point difference before catching on you in the driver's standing.

when the whole team congratulated you on your results, it felt like you were in a fever dream, barely making out what was real and what wasn't. you didn't even notice jude talking to you before he snapped his fingers in front of you.

"are you okay ? should i take you to the medics ?" he asked in a worried tone.

"i'm alright... just need to get through the podium." which did not happen. you ran off stage as soon as the italian anthem stopped ringing in your ears. it was all too much, the heat, the noise, the exhaustion, the pressure. all too much to handle for you.

when you joined jude, he was already talking with your pr manager, telling her you wouldn't be able to do any media work right now. it was the truth, not a petty lie to get away with it. you genuinely felt even more lightheaded (if that was possible) at the sole thought of having to go through a dozen interviews.

seeing you barely standing straight must have conceived her, so soon enough you were on your way back to the hotel in a cab jude called.

you quietly laid your head on jude's shoulder. he barely said a word to you since the podium incident, only asking how you felt, if you drank enough water, and how many hours of sleep you had. you watched him as he typed things on his phone in total silence. you wondered if he was mad at you for putting yourself in such a situation or only worried. regardless, you felt a pang of sadness in your heart thinking about it before drifting off.

—

as soon as jude opened your hotel room's door, you felt your legs giving up on you, your hands found the wall to steady yourself. you could hear jude's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, like you were underwater.

you tried making it to the bed, but you fell down on your knees and just propped your back against it, waiting a minute before getting up, to get your head to stop spinning uncontrollably.

"y/n. are you okay ?" you felt your boyfriend kneeling down next to you and could finally understand his words, but it felt like they were resonating in your brain, only worsening your headache.

"i'm fine, i'm fine... i just need a moment." you didn't want to worry jude more than he already was, although the weak tone of your voice alarmed him more than anything. you felt him shift around you, and caught a glimpse of him coming back from the bathroom before your eyes shut.

when you woke up, you were laid on the bed with a wet cloth on your forehead. and the first thing you saw was a wide-eyed jude handing you a glass of water.

"i thought about making you drink when you were... asleep? but i didn't want to drown you. so i waited for you to wake up." he was talking fast, too fast for you to fully understand his nonsense.

"hello to you too." your voice was still weak but you felt much better than at the race track. you quickly took a few sips of water before jude tried drowning you for good.

"what's that ?" you asked pointing at the cloth still laying on your face.

"some website said that's what you're supposed to do when your irresponsible girlfriend faints." you hid your face in your pillow at his accusatory words.

"no, but seriously y/n. do you have any idea of how worried i was ? imagine if something wrong happened. god, i knew i shouldn't have let you race..." his words had an angry tone to them and you were confused as to why jude was mad at you over hypothetical scenarios.

"but nothing wrong happened, i even got points. are you not proud of me ?"

"are you being serious right now ? you know i'm always proud of you, points or no points. but you think i'm gonna clap for you after putting yourself in danger like that ?" jude's tone got somewhat angrier but he kept going.

"fuck, when you fainted i already saw myself explaining everything to your mum. you can't take those risks, especially when you drive a fast car for a living. you can understand that right ?"

you felt tears well up in your eyes at his words, thinking about how worried he must have been this whole time.

"i'm sorry, it's just... i've been thinking about the championship a lot. i guess that clouded my judgment." you wiped away your tears quickly, before jude could notice them but it was too late.

"hey, hey, hey... you shouldn't be saying sorry to me, you probably spent a worse weekend than i did anyway. i'm not mad at you but at the situation, alright ?" his fingers stroke the wet spots under your eyes, wiping what was left of your tears away. "i'm proud of you, and happy for your points. but you're not winning a championship by making your dangerous job even more dangerous." his voice and his eyes were soft and you felt your chest get significantly warmer.

"you're right..." the room got silent for a couple seconds at your words.

"what was that ? i couldn't hear you babe" jude had a shit-eating grin on his face and you knew exactly what he wanted, and it almost made you physically sick to give him this satisfaction.

"i said... you'reright." you tried getting those terrible words out as fast as you could, but he wasn't happy with that.

"mmh mmh, that won't do... say it nice and loud for me love." you felt your face heat up, both in fluster and embarrassment at his words.

"you're right." your words had a defeated tone to them, but jude decided that would be enough by the way he didn't taunt you anymore.

he moved and got under the covers with you, even though you were gonna have to get up again as you were both still dressed. he just wanted to share this little moment of peace with you.

"you know, it's crazy how you drive the fastest car in the world but can't survive singapore's heat for a weekend." you playfully elbowed jude's ribs at his teasing.

you were grateful to have someone like jude to support you and your intense lifestyle, but also someone to talk about silly little things, legs tangled under the sheets.

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tangent101 · 5 months

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Have we gotten Rachel wrong this whole time?

There are plenty of theories about Rachel Amber in the LiS community. Some folks like to think of her as a manipulator who only was out for herself. We have others who think she was deep in love with Chloe and would never cheat on her and everything she did was to get her and Chloe out of Arcadia Bay. It seems like everyone looks at Rachel and sees something new. But… what if we were all wrong? What if Rachel was something else… someone who tried avoiding conflict by talking to people and agreeing with them… and thus everyone saw her as they wanted to see her?

There is actually some evidence toward this in the game. First, Chloe herself points this out, though in a way that is perhaps less than flattering: "She blended like a chameleon. Clearly more than I knew… or wanted to know…." People take this as to Rachel was able to see what makes a person tick and just become the person that someone else wanted… but we can see several people who had a rather negative view of Rachel. So what is it about those people that had a negative viewpoint of Rachel?

First, we have David Madsen, who detested Rachel and saw her as a bad influence and a criminal. He was investigating Rachel and had photographs he felt were of her being a drug mule. Next, we had a truck driver who talked about Rachel really wanting to get out of town. And of course there is Mark Jefferson who also had a… twisted view of Rachel, though it also seems Rachel was so enthralled by Jefferson that she may have been sleeping with him (and both Stella and Victoria seem to be interested in what's going on in Jefferson's pants as well, though I'm not sure why, he's not that charming).

The truth is that Rachel was something other than a manipulative gold-digger or the like. She were a teenage girl who disliked conflict and was adept at listening to people and when talking to them would agree with them? I mean, consider her two breakup letters, one to Frank and one to Chloe? Rachel so wanted to avoid conflict that she left a letter to Frank because he scared her. She did not want a fight. She wanted out. So she left… with a note basically giving her reasons and essentially ending things. (Frank thankfully accepted that.)

Chloe also got a letter. Honestly… given it was all crumpled up, I half-wonder if Chloe had read it while high one time and crumpled it up and forgot about it afterward. But we have a very important line here: I don't want you to hate me. I don't want you to hate me. That's a very interesting thing to say. There is no deliberate malice, this is someone who has found someone else who just rings all those bells but wants to keep the friend aspect. She still wants the laughter, the moments of sharing a glance and both having the same thought, the things she envisions friends do… but to walk away from the sensual intimacy.

Remember what Victoria Chase said to Max in the Dark Room, that she was just a teenage girl? That's Rachel. Rachel Amber was not a seductress or a narcissist or a monster. She was a teenage girl who was avoiding conflict in her life, but in doing so ended up in a shallow grave in a junkyard. Because quiet girls don't make history… they end up used, abused, and discarded. They end up on the rooftops willing to throw themselves to their deaths because no one would listen to them. They end up abandoned because they were not good enough, because they ultimately were not willing to stand up to those who would use them.

Max, before Chloe reentered her life, was one of those quiet girls who ends up used and discarded. The reason folks keep seeing Rachel in Max is because Rachel stayed quiet and let people make up their own minds about her. And they saw in her what they wanted.

Or at least, it's one way to interpret Rachel Amber.

#rachel amber #max caulfield #chloe price #chloe and rachel #amberprice #frank bowers #mark jefferson #david madsen #life is strange #life is strange speculation

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nariism · 10 months

Text

i don’t dance!

pair. pro-player!ushijima x PR manager!reader

content: fluff, reader is his VERY TIRED PR manager who really deserves a raise, weak attempts at humour, no pronouns used for reader

synopsis. you need to teach ushijima how to waltz

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i eat the “teach me how to dance” trope up for breakfast, lunch and dinner. (also yes i absolutely did use a high school musical song as the title who’s gonna stop me)

ushijima wakatoshi is what people typically refer to as emotionally unavailable.

he just doesn’t have the time to worry about trivial things like romance or feelings or anything of the sort. not while he’s trying to keep up with his rigorous training schedule on top of countless interviews and photo shoots that you, his wonderful PR manager, generously offer to help him prepare for.

it’s no surprise that this man - 6 feet and almost 4 inches of pure heart throb material - has yet to find a partner worth keeping around. not that he hadn’t had one night stands, per say, but being emotionally available for a committed relationship isn’t something he has on his mind right now.

although he isn’t exactly the type to be nitpicky about this kind of stuff, he does come off as cold if you don’t know him well enough (unintentionally, of course). people who he welcomes into his life simply find him too busy or too severe in his mannerisms to form proper relationships. thus, his friend group is kept tight, extending almost exclusively to members of the japanese national team.

ushijima keeps to himself and minds his own business. he doesn’t speak until spoken to, unless he has some opinion about other volleyball players you have to thwart. he doesn’t make a fuss about insignificant things. he respects his elders and works hard in every aspect of his life that involves his career. words are kept short and to the point, never sugar coated and he certainly never lies.

he specifically remembers one scenario in which an adoring fan had come up to him after a game while you were distracted with the press, and they had confessed their undying love to him much to his horror.

“could you leave me alone?” he had told them bluntly when they asked if he could please dm them on twitter, and you nearly died on the spot when the cameras all turned to the pair behind you. it was a horribly busy week for you, playing the role of damage control all while ushijima remained completely indifferent to the storm that was brewing on social media around his name and how he was trending for two whole days after the fact.

thankfully, the fan had gratefully accepted a bouquet of flowers ‘courtesy of ushijima’ (which he also almost vehemently denied online before you smacked him upside the head), and all was forgiven. it even made him trend for a couple days longer, but this time with everyone singing his praises. he should give you more credit where it’s due, because being a PR manager for someone so terrible at smiling for the camera is like hell on earth.

you had told him once that it was important to keep a good rapport with his fans, even if they were more forward with their advances than he was used to back in high school. he looked at you funny until you continued: “i’m not saying you should go off and date anyone who confesses to you, but could you at least be a little nicer?!” sounding extremely exasperated.

he didn’t even end up agreeing with you, too distracted by the way your lips moved while you scolded him to pay you his full attention.

“tonight’s the gala. everyone will be there.”

“i know.”

“so why,” you hiss out the words through grit teeth, jaw tense as you pinch the bridge of your nose, “are you standing outside my house when you should be getting ready?”

he’s silent for a moment. you glance up to make sure he’s actually still standing there being stupidly handsome and that you’re not just dreaming he is. ushijima averts his gaze awkwardly, hands in his pockets as he contemplates whether or not he should say what’s on his mind and risk having you slam the door in his face in frustration.

(it’s happened before; once, when he told you he was the top reply on a post for asking what “smash” means and why everyone was commenting it under all his instagram photos. you slammed the door in his face then, too, but he could still hear you erupt into laughter from the other side much to his confusion.)

you’re looking at him expectantly, with a brow raised and your lips pursed as you wait for an explanation.

“it’s a gala.”

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, patience wearing thin. “i know, wakatoshi. i just said that.”

“it’s a gala, so...” he huffs, “i have to dance, don’t i?”

you look up again at his words, confusion written all over your face. you’re in the middle of getting ready yourself, dressed to the nines. not as his date, of course, though he’d asked you.

(“what did you just say?”

“why can’t you just come with me? it would save you the trouble of getting the extra ticket. it’s not like i’m taking anyone else.”

“i can’t- that’s-... it’s unprofessional.”

“oh. i see.”)

you take the opportunity to scrutinize his outfit, as your eyes always end up doing. you’re always observing him closely, hoping and praying he doesn’t do or say something that will get him cancelled. in his defense, he’s gotten better at keeping his mouth shut when he knows you’re sitting there stressed to all hell about what you’ll need to apologize for on his behalf that week.

not that he would ever admit it out loud, but he likes the attention a little bit. enjoys being fussed over, since he spends most of his time isolated save for the members of his team. and it’s not like you’re very secretive about your judgment of him. it’s your job, for one, but there’s an undeniable and genuine worry in your eyes every time he says something he shouldn’t. he thinks it’s fine that he indulges in your presence just a bit, especially since people have found him intimidating his whole life. it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him once in a while.

you sigh quietly. “yes, you’ll have to dance. why?” you open the door wider for him, a gesture he’s familiar with equating to come in. “you’re not planning on bailing ‘cause of that, are you?”

he watches as you retreat further into your house, probably to fix your hair one last time before you head out early. you always arrive to these sorts of events earlier than he does, and always in a separate car. you were insistent that he arrive either alone or with his own date, since it would reduce the risk of scandals questioning your seemingly close relationship with each other.

close is not the word either you nor ushijima would use to describe your feelings toward one another. sure, you were the one helping to manage his schedule even though the job description did not at all entail that, and you’re the one keeping him in line with the media. he even has you over sometimes for dinner after an especially long day. but no, you’re not close. work acquaintances at best.

“no, i’m not bailing,” he tells you as he trails behind, following you to the mirror in the hallway - the one hung up above a high table littered with trinkets from past events and some photos of you and your friends and family. you look at him with a quizzical expression through the mirror.

“then?”

he stands rigidly behind you. the thought that it feels strangely domestic with you getting ready in front of him like this crosses his mind, and makes him grossly warm and fuzzy inside.

“i don’t know how to dance.”

you pause in your ministrations, hair that you meant to pin up falling back over your eyes as you stare at him with bewilderment. “you what?”

“i don’t know how to dance,” he repeats, though you heard him perfectly fine the first time.

“you... don’t know how to... dance...” you sound out the sentence slowly, hoping that you possibly misheard him. to your horror, he only nods in confirmation.

in your one year, three months and twenty-two days of working with ushijima, how could it have never once dawned on you that this 6 foot monster of a volleyball player doesn’t know how to do something as elegant as a waltz?

it’d never been a problem before. most events don’t include anything of the sort, and all the events you do attend with ushijima are to give out awards or give esteemed recognition to MVPs. but for a christmas gala, there will definitely be booze and partying and absolutely dancing involved.

for a second, he thinks you’ll keel over and place your head into your hands on the table like you usually do in these situations, or that you’ll start muttering curse words to yourself, or maybe you’ll scold him some more for never learning. but much to his (pleasant) surprise, you just laugh. and laugh. and keep laughing, until there are tears in your eyes. his poor heart can’t take it.

“what?” he asks, almost sounding offended. but his expression is still stone cold as you look back up at him, turning to face him this time. his breath hitches when the action causes a whiff of your expensive body spray to waft in his direction.

“i just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” you muse. he knows what you really mean is that you’re surprised he isn’t here causing trouble for you before this event like he always does, complaining like a child that he doesn’t see the point of attending. “why didn’t you just say so? it’s easy. i’ll show you.”

he stares at you momentarily while you stand there, hand outstretched as an offer to take it. he half expects you to yank it back and laugh in his face, more cruelly this time, but you just smile at him with the slightest tilt of your head. you sound so genuine that any hesitation left in his body melts away, and he awkwardly accepts your hand and waits for your guidance.

he’s stiff as a board as you pull his hands where they need to go, one resting on your hip and the other hanging in the air for you to take. “i’ll teach you how to lead first, okay?” he can only nod in response. you step forward once with your left, urging him to step back with your timing. then you’re shuffling over, gliding along the floor with ushijima trying his damndest to follow along, and then your feet meet again in a different spot.

he grunts quietly in concentration, watching your movements carefully and clumsily trying to catch up. it’s a simple enough motion, but he’s too big and it feels clunky to do this for the first time. you seem deeply amused by his confusion, and he glares at you quickly before his eyes are back on the floor.

“now you try. we can go slow,” your voice is soft. encouraging. so unlike your usual stern demeanor with him. “step forward.”

ushijima does so obediently, sliding his left forward to the best of his memory.

“good. now your right goes to the side and the left follows.”

he listens to you again, but his gait is much larger than you anticipated, and your back hits the table behind you with a gentle thud. he mutters something along the lines of an apology, but he seems too focused to realize the compromising position he’s put you in. you smile at him anyways, rotating around 90 degrees to give you more space to move.

“now again in the opposite direction.”

“this is too complicated.”

“this is the easiest motion...”

“i don’t like it.”

“you gonna keep complaining or are you going to dance with me?”

he stops in his tracks, boring into you with intensity in his eyes. you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “...what’s wrong?”

ushijima just shakes his head, and then his feet are moving again as he tugs you along clumsily. “nothing. but maybe you should be my dance partner for the rest of tonight.” you raise a brow at him in question, even though you can feel the heat rising in your face and all the way to the tips of your ears. he clears his throat, looking away. “wouldn’t want any bad press about my terrible dancing,” he quickly adds.

this gets a laugh out of you. “as your PR manager, i don’t think that’s the kind of negative press i’m supposed to be getting you out of.”

“and as a friend?”

another laugh, a little breathless. “yeah, yeah. fine. as your friend i’ll make sure no one knows how awful you are at this.”

he blinks down at you, unsure if he’s ever seen you so relaxed before. you’re always so high-strung about work and keeping his name clear. there’s a softness gracing your face right now and he doesn’t know how to handle himself or his racing heart.

okay, yeah. maybe he can try and be a little nicer to his fans to see you like this more often.

EXTRA:

#— whispers in the wind ✧#um yea idk what this is #but hope you enjoyed #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x y/n #ushijima wakatoshi x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff

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therealcocoshady · 2 months

Text

Recovery - Chapter 17

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Em is on a date with Nicole when he learns about Y/N’s attack at the bar.

CW : Hospital

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was spending the evening at Nicole’s for their fourth date. They planned on having dinner and watching a movie, as they had done for their previous date nights. Granted, that wasn’t really original, but in his position, his options were kind of limited. He wished he could go places for dates, but it was a whole organization. He usually had to rent out the places he wanted to go to and have his security team nearby, which was sort of uncomfortable if he wanted to get to know someone “the normal way”. If he wanted to build a genuine connection with someone, it was better not do anything screaming “I’m a famous millionaire rapper and I can’t go anywhere without the risk of being harassed”. Thankfully, Nicole seemed happy with their simple dates. That was one of the many things he liked about her : she had simple taste and she was real with him. A common misconception that people had about him was that it was easy for him to date. He could certainly have a lot of opportunities with the ladies if he wanted to, but the ones who threw themselves at him were usually the type he disliked the most : attracted to him because of his name, his fortune, his fame, expecting him to take them to all sorts of fancy places and introducing them to famous people… After his second divorce from Kim, he had figured out he would never really find love again. For years, he didn’t get involved in relationships, choosing to focus on raising his children, working on his sobriety and making music. Sure, he’d had a few encounters, but never serious ones. He had made a point not to. And the couple of times he gave it a try, he ended up getting hurt. As he had entered his fifties, he was pretty sure he was going to end up alone. In truth, he didn’t mind that much. He was lucky enough to have a great family he was close to, including his ex wife, as well as amazing friends (who were basically like family anyway). Women were pretty much an afterthought. At least, that was the case before he met Y/N. In a matter of months, she had become one of the most important persons in his life.

From the first time they met, he took a liking towards her. Sure, she was beautiful, but it wasn’t the only reason. There was something about the way she carried herself and how she acted. She was always nice, respectful, sweet and kind. She had a very calm aura, a far cry from a lot of the girls who had come to the studio before. To the point where he had actually instigated a rule : no girls unless they’re long-time partners or family. He was almost pissed when Jamal asked to make an exception for his new roommate, but Talia assured him that Y/N would not be an inconvenience. She was apparently coming out of the hospital after an OD and would live with them for a few months, until she got better. And they were right : she was far from inconvenient. At first, she was barely noticeable, keeping to herself, scared to intrude. When he saw her for the first time, mindlessly playing with her NA chip, he had felt the urge to make her feel at ease, because he knew how stressful those first moments in a sobriety journey could be. He had been there. On that first day, he got to know her and felt drawn to her. For the first time in ages, he could relate to someone. And as weeks went by, he got to know her better, not as an addict, but as a person. She turned out to be extremely spirited, funny, with a sharp wit. It felt like they could talk about anything : she was educated and knew a lot about different topics, and the one she knew nothing about, she was interested in. Another thing he really enjoyed about hanging out with her is that she almost had no idea who he was. She acted insanely normal around him and asked him questions most people never did, mostly because they knew the answers from his interviews or his Wikipedia page. She didn’t. So even talking about something as trivial as their favorite TV shows or the place they grew up was extremely enjoyable. In a matter of months, he became best friends with her, which was as challenging as it was fun. It soon became clear that they were attracted to each other, on a night where he was having dinner at her place and they almost ended up in bed together. But it hadn’t seemed like a great idea : as insanely attractive as she was, no matter how horny she made him, she was too young for him (she could be his daughter, for God’s sake), she was just getting out of a relationship and starting to recover from addiction. For the most part, he managed to keep things friendly, which hadn’t been without trials. Even if he was trying to do the right thing, he was just a man and knowing Y/N was attracted to him drove him crazy. But after a few months of being emotionally and physically close and caring for her, he ended up giving up on his principles and considering dating her. However, this was cut short when they had their first argument.

To be fair, he was the one who fucked up, there was no denying that. But things had escalated and gotten ugly when she threw his past emotionally abusive relationship in his face and he responded very poorly by calling her a junkie and a whore, as well as suggesting that it would have been better if she had died from an overdose. In the span of a few minutes, he was brought back to the person he vowed not to be anymore. After a few weeks of thinking, he came to understand that Y/N had way too much power over him. With her, he could either be the very best or the very worst version of himself. It seemed like there was no in-between. Sure, that would make for great songs, but he didn’t actually want this, no matter how much he wanted her. Spending a month apart from her made him realize how much he cared about her, how much she meant to him, so forgiving her for hurting him was a no-brainer. But that was the thing : he wanted to be there for her, care for her, provide her with everything she could ever need, and he knew he couldn’t do that if he risked turning into the world’s biggest asshole every time they had an argument. Things were safer if they remained best friends, as there would be much less at stake. They would still be close, still be there for each other, and even though it hurt a bit, he was ready to renounce the possibility of making her his if it meant that they wouldn’t hurt each other. That was how much she meant to him. And when Hailie offered to set him up on a date with Nicole, it was a welcome distraction. He figured it wouldn’t hurt as much if he was focused on dating someone, which would also give him actual reasons not to give in on his attraction to his friend. Plus, Nicole was actually a great person.

He should have been the happiest man on earth, having found a solution to his problem, but he still found himself to be annoyed. One thing he had not taken into account was the possibility for Y/N to be with someone and how it would make him feel. Thinking back, it had been stupid on his part. Of course she was a catch, and of course she would have tons of men begging for her attention. And apparently, thanks to his own daughter, she happened to have found one that was actually worthy of her. Jury was still out, obviously, but if Y/N was to be believed, that Josh guy was pretty great. Apparently, he was going out of his way to treat her like the princess she was, showering her with flowers, gifts, cute texts and even taking her out to some cool places. Better yet, he actually understood her work (unlike himself, who wasn’t quite sure what her work entailed - because she was too fucking smart for him).

Josh was supposed to take Y/N on a double date with Hailie and Evan. Dancing. She seemed ecstatic. Apparently they had been taking dancing classes. That shit was insanely corny, but she looked so happy and cheerful that she made it look enjoyable. When he saw her walk back in the room in her black dress, his heart skipped a beat at the thought that Josh would be the one dancing with her tonight, holding her hand and taking her home. He was the one who got to do all these gestures for her, who was able to go out with her in public. Not him. And even though he hated to admit it to himself, it hurt a bit. But at the end of the day, what mattered was her being happy. And if being with Josh put a smile on her pretty face… so be it. As for him, he would try to enjoy his date night with Nicole. After all, he was still a lucky man by a lot of standards. Nicole was kind, thoughtful, laid-back and really beautiful. He would be a fool not to enjoy her company. Plus, this date was kind of a promising one. They had not slept together yet, but tonight was the night, he knew it as Nicole had hinted several times at him possibly spending the night. That wasn’t his first rodeo after all. Plus, he guessed that having sex with someone other than Y/N would be a nice distraction from his feelings.

The evening turned out to be enjoyable. He was half-naked, making out with Nicole on the couch, absolutely not paying attention to the movie that was playing, when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He didn’t answer, figuring that it wasn’t important and that, if it were, the person would call back. Which was exactly what happened. He kissed Nicole one last time before glancing at the screen. It was Hailie. She never called twice in a row, unless it was an emergency.

Is there anything wrong ? She asked as soon as she saw the frown on his face.

It’s my daughter, he said. She tried calling twice, it’s a bit unusual. Mind if I call her back ?

No, of course, go ahead, she said with a smile.

Both of them were in agreement that kids came first. She was a parent too, so she understood that perfectly. Of course, in both of their cases, the kids were grown up, but it didn’t really change anything. If anything, that was worse : grown up kids don’t call at night for no reason, unless it’s serious. He quickly put his tee-shirt back on and went to another room to call Hailie back.

Dad ? Hello ? She answered - and as soon as he heard her voice, he could tell she’d been crying.

What’s up Hay ? Anything wrong ? He asked, suddenly worried.

Dad… I need you to call Talia and Jamal, she said. Y/N was attacked.

What happened ?! He asked. Where are you ? I’m on my way, ok ?

He could feel his heart race. Thankfully, Hailie was fine. If anything, she seemed a bit shocked, but at least, she was safe. He immediately went back to the living room and grabbed his jacket.

I’m so sorry, Nic, but I have to go, he said.

What’s wrong ? She asked. Is Hailie alright ?

Y/N was attacked, apparently, I have to go and check up on her, he explained as he was putting his shoes on.

Wait… Who is Y/N ? She asked, confused.

She’s my… daughter’s friend, he replied, slightly annoyed by the question.

Oh isn’t she the one who was with you in the ER ? She recalled.

Yeah, he said. Look, I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you soon, ok ?

He quickly kissed her on the cheek and hurried out of her house and to his car before driving to the bar where Hailie was. He found his daughter crying in the arms of her boyfriend, outside of the place. They were both clearly inebriated, although he guessed that the shock had done a pretty good job in getting them to sober up. As soon as she spotted him, she hugged him.

Are you ok ? He asked.

Yes, she said, still crying. I can’t believe what happened.

Where’s Y/N ?

In an ambulance. They’re rushing her to the hospital, she replied. Josh is with her, but we’re waiting on news. I just gave my statement to the police.

What the fuck happened ? He inquired, not fully grasping the situation.

I’m not sure, Dad… We had a great night and we were dancing. She went to the bathroom and, when I went to go with her, I found her there, almost getting raped by some guy. She was unconscious, Hailie explained.

Shit, Marshall said.

She was only alone for a couple of minutes, his daughter continued with tears in her eyes. I was supposed to go with her… Dad, do you think it’s my fault ?

She continued sobbing. He gently held her and kissed her forehead.

You did nothing wrong, Hay, he said. Do you know who the guy is ?

Yes, I screamed for help and some people caught him and called the cops, she said. The police took him.

Good, he said. Come on, I’ll take you guys home.

Can we go to the hospital and check on Y/N instead ? Please ? She pleaded.

He nodded and they hopped in the car. Marshall drove as fast as he could, probably well over the speed limit. His thoughts were racing. How come she had been attacked ? Why the hell wasn’t her boyfriend here to protect her ? He had so many questions. As soon as they got out of the car, Hailie puked in the hospital’s parking lot. He frowned, but now was not the time to lecture her on her drinking. They rushed inside the ER and found Josh in the corridor, his back against the wall.

Any news ? Evan asked.

They said they’re doing some blood tests and pumping her stomach, Josh explained. She’s not waking up. They say she’s in a coma…

He had tears in his eyes and looked drunk as well.

How much did she drink tonight ? Marshall asked.

Nothing, Hailie said. She only drank mocktails.

Perhaps someone slipped something in one of her drinks when she went to get water ? Evan said.

She went alone ? Marshall asked.

Well… Yeah…, Josh mumbled.

That was it. He could not control his anger anymore. How stupid did you have to be to leave your girlfriend alone in a crowded bar full of men in heat ?! Without a second thought, Marshall shoved Josh against the wall.

You can’t even take care of her in a bar ?! He asked. How fucking retarded are you ?!

Look, I…, Josh began.

Shut up, you fucker, he spat. I swear to God, I will fucking destroy you if I find out that even one hair is missing from hear head.

Dad, Hailie pleaded - and he didn’t have to look at her to see that she was crying again. Stop, please…

He could feel his daughter and Evan try to intervene between the two of them. To be fair, Josh wasn’t putting up much of a fight. He looked absolutely terrified and seemed to be on the verge of tears. If it were up to him, if his daughter wasn’t here, Marshall would probably beat him up.

Your girlfriend almost gets raped because what ? You can’t handle your liquor ?! Fucktard, he said before letting go of him.

Dad, Hailie began, it’s not his fault.

I don’t want to hear it, Hailie, Marshall sighed. I’ll take you guys home so that you can sober up. I’ll come back and check on her, ok ?

Hailie and Evan nodded, not discussing his orders.

I’ll stay here, Josh said.

Man, you’re cross-eyed and you can’t stand still, Marshall groaned. If anything, you should be lying in one of the beds. You’re not going to be of much use. I’ll take you home.

Josh ended up agreeing and he took all of them to Hailie’s. His daughter seemed to be a little mad at him for threatening her friend. As much as he hated to see her displeased, he didn’t care too much at that moment. She could give him shit later if she wanted, when she was sobered up. He made sure they got home and he drove back to the hospital. He saw a nurse in the corridor and inquired about Y/N’s state.

I am sorry, but I am not at liberty to divulge this information, she said. Are you family ?

Yeah, he lied through his teeth. I’m her… uncle.

Well, her stomach was pumped and we’re waiting on the results from the blood tests right now. It may take a few hours. For now, all I can say is that it looks like she’s been drugged. We’ve had a lot of similar cases lately, the nurse said.

Is she going to be alright ? He asked. I mean… She’s going to wake up… right ?

She is, she reassured him. But we don’t know how much is in her system, or what it is exactly. So, depending, it might be in a few hours, just like it might be in a few days. We’re keeping a close eye on her. We are monitoring her heart and oxygen levels. So far, the vitals are good.

Thank God, he sighed in relief. What room is she in ?

Sir, visiting hours are over, she said.

He looked at her and crossed his arms, showing he had absolutely no intention of leaving the hospital. Still, she didn’t budge.

You can leave your number at the front desk and we’ll keep you informed, she offered.

She’s not waking up alone in a hospital room, he scoffed.

Sir, the rules are the…

Look, I get that you’re trying to do your job, I do, he said, but I’m not moving. You can call security, the police or whoever the fuck you want. I am not moving. If need be, I will sleep on the goddamn floor, but I am not leaving her alone for one fucking second. I don’t care what it takes, how much money I have to donate to this hospital, I am staying.

Sir, she said sternly.

Please ? He pleaded. She’s scared of hospitals.

Fine, she said. Room 457. Do not try to wake her.

Thank you.

Marshall quickly found the room and, upon entering, he found her lying in bed. They had changed her into a hospital gown. Her makeup was all smudged and she had a few bruises on her arms. The running mascara on her face was enough to know that she’d cried. His heart sank as he saw her lying there. He imagined how scared she must have been. His heart was pounding in his chest. He approached her and couldn’t help but check that she was actually breathing. Thank God, she was. He gently stroked her cheek and took her hand in his as he sat in the chair next to the bed.

Y/N, he said softly. It’s me, Marshall. You’re alright, ok ? You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not leaving this place without you, alright ?

He knew she probably couldn’t hear him, but he felt the need to talk to her anyway, on the off chance she would. Deep down, he hoped that hearing a familiar voice would help. But of course, she didn’t move. He sighed and stroked her hand.

They say you’re going to be fine, he added, overcome with emotion. They better be right. I guess just… Hang in here, ok ? Can you do that for me ?

He gently kissed her hand.

I’m so sorry, he said as he let a tear roll down on his cheek. I wish I had been the one to take you dancing. I wish I could have been there to protect you. Y/N, you have no idea how much… how much I love you, he whispered.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #recovery fanfiction

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septembercfawkes · 11 months

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7 Things I Wish I'd Known as a Beginning Writer

I wish I'd known so many things as a beginning fiction writer. . . .

Recently, I was teaching and mentoring at the Storymakers Conference, and I got into a conversation with a fellow editor and writer about such things, and I've sort of been thinking about them off and on ever since. Thus, this post. But I'll keep this intro brief. . . .

Here are seven things I wish I'd known when attempting to write my first novel.

1. Nearly Every Scene Needs a Goal

I consider goals to be the first element of plot. Without a goal, you can't have a true antagonist--because the antagonist is what opposes the goal. And without that, you can't have conflict. Or consequences. Or a true story.

But not only does your protagonist need an overarching goal for the act or whole narrative arc, but there should almost always be a little goal for nearly any scene. Often what happens, is the big goal will be broken up into scene-level goals. So, while Katniss's overarching goal is to win The Hunger Games, her scene-level goals may be to impress the Gamemakers, nail her interview with Caesar, or find Peeta in the arena. And of course, if there are multiple plotlines, as is often the case, there may be goals related to other plotlines beyond the main external one.

Admittedly (and unfortunately) though, even if someone had told me that 10+ years ago, I would have been very skeptical, and my mind would have immediately gone searching for scenes where there isn't a goal present.

I now realize, I had a very narrow view of what a goal was. See, when I heard the word "goal," I only thought of obtaining something. Thankfully, that is only one type of goal. Avoiding something can be a goal. And wanting to maintain things as they currently are can also be a goal--it just needs an antagonistic force (just as they all do).

So, at the most basic level, there are three types of goals: obtain, avoid, or maintain.

The goal can change. It can even be achieved or abandoned. In which case, a new goal needs to come into play.

Some scenes don't start with a goal, but usually one comes in as the scene progresses, and goals may not be a big component of sequel scenes.

There are, of course, some rare situations where there isn't really a goal at all, but when that happens, there is often still directionality--a sense of where the story is going.

Goals help tighten up the story by giving the audience a sense of direction, and if you don't have a goal in play, then you need to come up with another way to do that, such as playing with dramatic irony (the audience senses that the direction the story is going, is that the characters will eventually figure out what they already know).

Until a goal is in play, the audience can't really measure if what is happening is progress or a setback, and they can't get a strong sense of why what is happening matters (because the characters aren't trying to get anywhere specific).

Goals are super important in the overarching plot. They are equally important, if not even more important, within scenes.

2. Scenes and Acts Should Follow Basic Structure

Most of us are probably familiar with basic story structure: rising action, climax, falling action.

But many of us weren't taught that this is also the basic structure of acts and scenes.

The difference, is that, in acts and scenes, it's smaller and less impactful.

This shape is a fractal that repeats itself within the narrative arc. It's like a Russian nesting doll, with the smaller structures of it fitting into the larger ones.

This means most of your scenes should actually have a climactic turning point.

This also means that the story should have changed at least a little because of the scene. How the story was at the beginning of the scene, should be at least a little different from what it is at the end of the scene. If it's not, the scene is probably just exposition and/or filler.

There are, of course, some exceptions to this. For example, sometimes the point of the scene is to show how things haven't or aren't changing. But if most of your scenes don't follow this structure and aren't changing the story at least a little, they probably aren't progressing the story, and are just filler (unfortunately!).

3. Know Your 4 Basic Character Arcs and Which You are Writing

Some writing advice doesn't work well for all stories, and that can be especially true when you get into character arcs. There are four basic types of character arcs: positive change, negative change, positive steadfast, negative steadfast. Any other character arc should fit into one of these four.

In brief, a change-arc protagonist will do, more or less, a 180-degree flip about a belief system or worldview. They go through a big change or transformation. If this is positive, the protagonist flips from an inaccurate worldview to an accurate one. If negative, the protagonist flips from an accurate worldview to an inaccurate one.

In a steadfast arc (also called a flat arc), the protagonist will stay, more or less, the same at the end of the story as they were at the beginning of the story. They will uphold the same worldview. A steadfast story is about the protagonist holding true to who he was in the beginning, despite other forces testing or tempting him to bend or quit. If this is positive, the protagonist is holding steadfast to an accurate worldview. If negative, the protagonist is holding stubbornly to an inaccurate worldview.

Of the four types, the most popular one is the positive change protagonist, which means there is a lot of great advice for that type. Unfortunately, that advice doesn't always translate well into the other three types.

This is where I ran into one of my biggest stumbling blocks when I was a "beginner" storyteller. I wanted to write a flat-arc/steadfast protagonist story, but I didn't know about those terms and I couldn't articulate what I was trying to do nor find resources to help me do it. I kept trying to apply change arc advice to a steadfast protagonist. It didn't work well and caused somany problems! Eventually, and unfortunately, I turned my steadfast protagonist into a change-arc protagonist in the process. Yikes.

While positive change arc protagonists are the most popular, they aren't the only type, and you don't have to write that type. So know what type you are writing and be discerning about what advice does and does not apply to it.

4. Character Agency Actually Makes the Character More Sympathetic

Let me admit something. While I think I'm somewhat of a natural at dissecting stories, I've learned I'm not a natural storyteller. After college, I could write pretty lines with a great style, but I really struggled with actual story elements. I don't think I'm natural at story. It seems I have had to learn everything the hard way in that regard. But I can't feel too bad about it, because trying to figure out why what I was doing didn't work has spurred much of this blog.

Anyway, when I started taking writing seriously, my protagonist did not exercise much agency. Bad things were just happening to him and he was just reacting, and he was really rather passive in plot (in part because I didn't understand the importance of goals nor that I could pick from three not just one type (see #1)). He wasn't making many choices or demonstrating his agency.

I wanted him to be really sympathetic because of his difficulties, and on a subconscious level, I thought that the lack of agency and control over his situation was doing that.

In reality, as counterintuitive as it sounds, the opposite is actually true.

Agency makes characters more sympathetic.

Here is an example I like to give when teaching others about this concept.

Imagine a story where a mother's daughter goes to the store and gets shot and killed by criminals.

It's sad, of course, but it seems random. Bad things happen to everyone.

Now, imagine a story where the mother didn't want to go to the store, and so chose to send her daughter instead. Then the daughter got shot and killed by criminals.

Most of us would say the second one is sadder.

Why?

Because the mom now holds some level of responsibility and accountability for what happened. If the mom hadn't sent her daughter, she wouldn't be dead.

Now, don't get me wrong, obviously the criminals are the real ones to blame, and the daughter also exercised agency by deciding to help out her mom (which makes the daughter a more sympathetic character too--she was just trying to help).

But in the second scenario, there is a stronger sense of cause and effect, where the mother's choices led to negative consequences.

And now, she may be haunted by the choice she made. What if she had chosen differently? Maybe she should have gone to the store herself. Or maybe she should have just used a delivery service. Or maybe . . . (I think you get the point).

This makes her more sympathetic. Not less.

And one way to make a character particularly sympathetic is to have her make choices with the best intentions and then have them lead to painful, costly consequences.

I could do a whole article on character agency in the future . . . or maybe I'll just save it for my online course. 😉

For now, this should give you a little something to think about regarding it: exercising agency makes characters more sympathetic, not less.

5. The Antagonistic Force isn't Only the Main "Big Baddie"--Your Story Should be Loaded with Them

In the writing community, we often talk about THE Antagonistic Force ™ in a story. We get very focused on THE MAIN Antagonistic Force ™--which makes total sense, I mean, duh! It's the biggest opposition.

But I sometimes feel like this leads to limiting perspectives that hurt our stories. (It certainly did for me and mine when I was learning.)

In reality, an antagonistic force isn't just some scary entity. An antagonistic force is anything that opposes the goal (see #1). It is the obstacles and resistance in the way of the goal. It's not something that is just heckling or annoyingthe protagonist. It's blocking, resisting, or pushing the character away from the goal.

And if (nearly) every scene should have a goal and should follow basic story structure, naturally that means there should be lots and lots and lots of antagonistic forces in a story--even if that particular antagonist only lasts for one single scene. Even if that antagonist isn't THE Antagonistic Force ™.

We need antagonists to have conflict (or even just tension--there is a difference) and meaningful consequences in our stories. That means an ally may step into the role of an antagonist if only for a moment, even if the ally isn't what we think of as a "baddie." (It may just be she has a different idea of what to do next, and that opposes the protagonist's current goal.)

And the antagonistic force isn't always "bad." It's simply something that opposes the goal. That's it.

So even if you have a main antagonistic force, make sure your story has lots of lesser antagonistic forces along the way--things that oppose the current goal. They may be temporary antagonists, but they are antagonists nonetheless.

6. Create Side Characters with Lead Characters in Mind

Once upon a time I brainstormed and ironed out a whole character who I, of course, thought was great. But when he finally got on the page with one of my main characters, the scene was terrible. The two did not go together well at all. It was some of the flattest most boring character interactions I'd ever written.

You see, while I liked both characters and worked a lot on each, they did not work well together--or perhaps, rather the problem was, they worked "too well" together, which was why it was so flat and boring. My main character in the scene was pretty nonchalant. The new side character I inserted was relaxed and lazy. Ack! What was I thinking? Because I had created each of them individually and because there were so many other features to them, I didn't realize how terrible they would be on the page alone together.

Rather than create each character as an "island," it's better to create supporting characters with the leads in mind. What kinds of qualities and attitudes are going to challenge and test your lead characters? What does your lead need to learn from this person? Or, what can the lead teach this person? What kind of person will uncover a new side to your lead? These are useful questions to ask when creating side characters.

In my story, in addition to being nonchalant, the main character valued honesty so much that he was often blunt (read: borderline rude). So I made the supporting character someone uptight who valued politeness. It took much less work on my part and the scene was much better for it.

7. Pretty Lines and a Nice Style Will Only Get You So Far (Which is Not Very Far at All)

As I already mentioned, when I got out of college, I could write in pretty lines and I had a nice style. In fact, style was one of the things I'd often get complimented on. But guess what? That doesn't matter if your story stinks.

There was an adage I would hear floating in writing communities around this time. Its basic idea was that if your lines are good enough, it doesn't matter what the story is, the reader will keep reading.

Today, I think this is a dangerous thing to be telling people, and when my story wasn't working out, I'd sometimes get stuck on that idea, thinking, Well, I have a good style, and if I just write this clever enough, witty enough, interesting enough, beautiful enough--X enough--the reader will keep reading!

Let's just say I wasted a lot of time doing that.

It didn't matter how beautiful or funny the lines were if the plot, characters, and structure were broken.

And ironically, I've learned that, actually, if you can figure out the story first, the lines will often come more easily. (This is because you aren't trying to make a pigsty look like the Taj Mahal. 😉)

Well, there you have it. And yet . . .

. . . with all that said, I also recognize I was not ready to learn and understand all these things when I did start writing seriously. And some things you can only truly learn and understand by diving into the craft. I mean, if you wait to know everything to start writing, you will be waiting forever! But what about you? Is there anything you wish you'd known as a beginning writer?

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #writing advice #writing help #writing tip #writing reference #writing #writer #fanfic

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lovemari · 3 months

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IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Cat Date - Wanderer x Reader

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

Synopsis: Wanderer asks you on a date in a strange way.

Notes: Let's be honest, in this fict, the cats were Wanderers wingcat lol. Also, not my proudest fict but I still like the scenario!

Recently, Dove, your cat has been acting odd. She's gone the entire day and comes back meowing at your door in the middle of the night, ruining your whole sleep schedule.

You believed it to be some kind of cat ritual or anything else that's crazy. Though, one day, or night to be exact, you found yourself quite curious. Dove hasn't been at your door for 2 days.

What do you do? You got up, at 12 in the night, and went to the neighbors house. He's quite the strange guy, if you were honest. Still, you always thought he was a cat himself. If not, then he certainly acted like one. So why not pay him a visit.

You knocked on his door, and out came the bowl cut dwarf, “Ugh..you? What is it?” He grumbled, clearly annoyed that you woke him up. At this point, you were panicking, “I can't find Dove! Can you help?” You rushed, with thoughts of Dove lingering in your mind. What if she was eaten by coyotes? Or even worse, stolen!

Your neighbor laughed, “I'm Wanderer, by the way.” He replied, as if nothing was happening. Before you could say anything Wanderer butted in, “Your cats with me. She's in love with my cat, Raven, for whatever reason. It's truly disgusting” He snickered, though, meaning no harm.

You blinked a couple of times before immediately rushing into his house. There, you saw Dove sleeping with Raven.

Swooping her up, you rushed out of the house. Wanderer stopped you before you could make your exit, unfortunately.

He gave you his number, “Tomorrow, 5:00, xxxx” He invited before smiling, “Let's have a cat date.” You gave him a weird look, was he drunk or something? Wanderer doesn't usually act like this.

You figured he wasn't right in the head so you rushed out, hoping he'll be sober in the morning.

You kissed Dove's head before turning off the night. Dove responded with an annoyed mew, clearly unhappy about you embarrassing her about her boyfriend. Unfortunately for her, you couldn't care less about a cat's love life.

You woke up early. You thought about it for a while but you decided you'd visit Scaramouche. Two reasons, actually. One, you wanted to make sure he wasn't drunk. Two, you didn't want to ditch him in case he wasn't drunk.

You got dressed and went to the place he mentioned. It was a cat cafe. You didn't know he was into that stuff but honestly, you weren't surprised.

You walked into the cafe, immediately being welcomed by some girl. You nodded, a little creeped out, before finding Scaramouche at a seat. You walked to him, “Hey.” You greeted. He looked at you, “About yesterday? I'm sorry.I was drunk.” He replied, quickly. He must be embarrassed.

You checked, “I figured.” your laughter stopped as you saw Wanderer blushing, playing with his hands, “I like you. That part was true” He confessed, his voice low and quiet.

You were surprised, to say the least. This man sure had a strange way of confessing but you found it cute.

You figured, it was too early for dating. Especially because you rarely talk to Wanderer. Still, there was something about him you enjoyed, “How about we have more cat dates before we decide what's best?” You teased, referring to when Wanderer was drunk. Wanderer nodded, acknowledging your tease and accepting it.

You could both see the sparks between you two.

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aemiron-main · 1 month

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do you think the multiple timeline plot is a plot point that’s more introduced in S4/for the HenVecWard TM plot specifically?

Like is there anything from earlier seasons/not related to Henry you would consider as proof that we’ve been seeing multiple timelines the whole time?

I think it would be kinda odd if multiple timelines are so important to the plot but there’s only real proof of it in S4 so that’s why I’m asking

I LIKE COMPLETELY 100% BELIEVE IT BUT IM REWATCHING RN AND I WANNA SEE IF THERES ANYTHING I SHOULD BE LOOKING OUT FOR

OOHOHOHOH SO!! THERE IS A LOTTTTTT OF ALTERNATE TIMELINE STUFF IN PREVIOUS SEASONS!!!

I totally agree that it would be odd if there was only proof of it in S4- thankfully, there’s evidence across all seasons!

So, let’s get into it!

Evidence of Multiple Timelines/Timeline Weirdness Prior To Season 4

So, one of the main things re: multiple timelines pre-S4 is Will’s vanishing. I touched on this in the Edward video too, but I also have a bunch of posts on it!

Basically, we saw two different Wills back in S1, each possibly from a different timeline.

I made this post, this post, and this post about Warm Will versus Cool Will, but TLDR, we see two different Wills on the night he vanished, one with longer, shaggier hair, who looks older & more exhausted & has cooler colour grading (hence why he’s Cool Will) and one with shorter, neater hair who looks younger & less tired & has warmer colour grading (hence why he’s Warm Will):

And there’s also the two different versions of the Byers’ phone- both versions of the Byers’ phone have “AREA CODE 501” written on the white part, but one version has nothing else underneath “AREA CODE 501” whereas the other version has some extra, unreadable line of text under it:

Which, not only is “501” the wrong area code for Hawkins, but “area 501” also connects to NINA (and all of the NINA timeline weirdness as a result), because the NINA coordinates from S4 lead to area 51.

And then there’s also the two different Wills in Castle Byers- the Will that El sees in Castle Byers in the void is different than the Will that the audience saw singing in Castle Byers (see this post and this post).

How are they different? Well, the Will that El sees in the void is more exhausted, barely able to move or speak- whereas the Will that the audience saw singing in Castle Byers has enough energy to sing and shiver.

And each of them also has a different version of Castle Byers- the Will that El sees in the void has drawings on the wall that are a.) in colour and b.) noticeably wet, wheres the Will that was singing and shivering has drawings on the wall that a.) have no colour and b.) are dry:

And one of the BIGGEST pieces of evidence of multiple timelines in the whole show actually comes from the end of S1 & then ties into the beginning of S2- the newspapers.

I talked about this in this post, this post, and this post, but the article we see at the end of S1 about Will’s vanishing has a TON of alternate timeline stuff.

It’s the article that mentions Richard Brenner, who’s likely Martin’s timeline counterpart or something along those lines (ie if Martin was Henry’s Brenner, Richard was likely Edward’s Brenner, especially considering the connections between Eddie Munson and Reefer Rick versus the subtext there re: Edward Creel and Richard Brenner, especially with Reefer Rick being a drug dealer versus Richard Brenner being the head of narcotics at HNL) (see posts like this post and this post and a bunch of other posts LMAO)

Not to mention all of the weirdness with Joyce in this article, and the fact that according to this article, Joyce claims that she found Will as a test subject at HNL, with no mention of the upside down:

Which ties into something I’ve talked about re: how it’s weird that the lab let will go to a normal hopsital- they were ready to straight up KILL HOPPER to prevent any info about the UD/lab getting leaked, and yet, they supposedly just let will go to a normal hospital instead of keeping him at the lab?

Plus, we never actually SAW joyce and jim leave the UD or the lab with Will- if they somehow escaped the lab & got will to a regular hospital after escaping the lab, how did they get through all of those guarded and locked doors that they had to go through to get to the mothergate?

Especially without a keycard and being vastly outnumbered + carrying a dying kid?

So, I wonder if that scene of Will at the hospital might be a different timeline where Will was found in one of the rooms at HNL, rather than in the UD, and if Joyce and Hopper broke in & got a keycard the way Hopper did earlier in S1/were able to get in and out of the lab & to a normal hospital more easily because Will was in one of the upper rooms & not down through all of those extra guarded doors/quaratine rooms that they had to go through to get to the mothergate.

Especially since that newspaper where Joyce seemingly claimed that Will was found as a HNL test subject also says that Will was currently at Hawkins General Hospital- which is where we see him at the end of S1, so it would make sense for those scenes to be the same timeline as that newspaper clipping (and therefore also in the same timeline as Richard Brenner):

And also, that S1 article is also DIFFERENT from the S2 article about Will’s vanishing despite the two of them seemingly being the SAME ARTICLE, with the same title, the same picture, and the same author (Benjamin Buck), but with different content- they seem to be alternate timeline versions of the same article.

There’s also the matter of Will’s poster and eye colour- the S1 poster says that his eyes are brown, but the Will we see in S2 has greenish-greyish eyes. So, yet again, we seem to have two different Wills, especially since they make a point of showing us what Will would look like with brown eyes when flayed, so they arent just calling his green eyes “brown” as a catch-all term.

Which, speaking of Flayed Will’s eyes, why did Will’s eyes turn brown when he was flayed but Billy’s eyes didn’t?

Why did Billy’s eyes stay blue (although sometimes becoming a more saturated shade of blue much like 1979 massacre Henward’s eyes) whereas Will’s turned brown?

I personally wonder if Will’s eyes changing colour is connected to all of the twinner/timeline stuff, especially with the scene in TFS where Alice asks “Henry” where Henry is and “Henry” responds with “he’s right here,” as if he himself isn’t Henry- does flaying somehow combine the two versions of people from alternate timelines?

And as a result, did we get Edward and Henry in the same body/connected mentally somehow/combined (therefore explaining that Alice scene), and were the two Wills combined, therefore explaining the eye colour change if the other Will has brown eyes?

I feel like there’s something here re: flaying & the idea of the hivemind being active across timelines (ie if two people are flayed, but theyre both in different timelines, would they be able to communicate with eachother via the hivemind/would they be connected to the same hivemind?)

Is that why Billy’s eyes didn’t turn brown? Because Billy’s alternate timeline self also has blue eyes? Anyway!

S1 is also the season where Mr Clarke brings up the idea of parallel universes/infinite alternate timelines:

And Connie Frazier from S1 is likely Alice Creel- but not Henry’s sister, Alice- Edward’s mother, Alice (see: this post ), hence how she’s still alive after 1959- she’s not the Alice that we saw laying dead on the floor, this Alice was an adult in 1959 & is Edward’s mother, not his sister, and is Victor’s wife, not his daughter, as according to the Edward paper/Indianapolis Gazette, Edward’s mother was named Alice and his sister was named Virginia, his mother and sister are swapped compared to Henry.

And then, in S2, we have my beloved 8:15gate, which, TLDR, there’s footage on Bob’s JVC on Halloween when Will was using it to record that a.) has timestamps that change when they shouldnt (ie, when Will was supposedly recording the footage, it says 8:04, but when Joyce watches that EXACT same clip back, it suddenly says 8:15) and b.) has footage that shouldnt even exist, because some of the scenes that he supposedly recorded are scenes where he HAD THE CAMERA DOWN AND WAS NOT RECORDING! That footage shouldnt even exist! And yet, it’s there, with a messed up timestamp.

Not to mention all of the stuff in S2 that directly contradicts TFS & reinforces the idea of multiple timelines (for example, in S2, Bob talks about how Joyce didnt even know his name in highschool- whereas in TFS, not only do the two know eachother well in highschool, but Bob also claims to have known Joyce since first grade).

And in S3, there’s a bunch of stuff (including the idea that S3 is its own weird timeline), but one example is what I talked about in this post re: the reference to temporal displacement in S3 and there’s a bunch more in S3/I’m just keeping this relatively brief LMAO!

And that’s not even all of it across the seasons! Not by a LONG shot, these are just a few little examples! The multiple timeline weirdness stretches all across ST, through every season and affects every character- although Henward is more overtly tied to it than the other characters, ALL of them are still tied to it, and there’s evidence of multiple timelines in every season- hell, like I said, some of the best evidence comes from S1, because that’s where we find out about Richard!

#stranger things #theres sm more here but i was slow to teply to this and just wanted to get the reply out #but theres SO MUCH MORE out there across the seasons

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matan4il · 5 months

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Daily update post:

Another five Israeli soldiers have been confirmed as killed during the fighting in Gaza. May their memory be a blessing.

Rocket fire into Israel continues, and we're once again seeing direct hits to Israeli homes. Thankfully, today no one was physically injured.

A recent survey, conducted after the Hamas massacre, shows about 70% of Israeli Arabs identify with Israel. Another poll shows about half believe the Israeli reaction in Gaza is justified. One more interesting finding is that the massacre has actually increased the importance of their identity as Israelis.

I mentioned in my post yesterday Asaf Hamami, who was killed on Oct 7 protecting kibbutz Nirim, and whose body is held hostage by Hamas. That Saturday morning, his 6 years old son Alon was visiting him at his army base. When the breach of the border fence started, Asaf kissed his son goodbye, and went out to protect the kibbutz. He didn't know at that point that the base would be attacked by Hamas terrorists, too. That his son would be under siege for many hours, and would eventually be evacuated, and the soldiers who would get little Alon out, would have to tell him not to look at the burnt cars and bodies spread out all across the road. Asaf didn't know it, but he was specifically targeted by Hamas terrorists, many of them were caught with his picture on them. Asaf was supposed to finish his service soon, his dream was to become a school principal. He's one of three Israeli colonels killed on Oct 7.

Yesterday, Israel presented at the UN some of the worst testimonies regarding the rape and sexual abuse of civilian men and women on Oct 7. The spokesman of the US state department also said officially what I mentioned to you many were whispering here, that Hamas broke the hostage deal, and refused to release the last of the women it's holding hostage, because it doesn't want the world to know what it has done to them.

youtube

France has frozen the assets of Yahya Sinwar, the commander of Hamas in Gaza, for half a year. I'm glad this step was taken, but I'm also wondering why only half an year. Will Sinwar stop being the mastermind behind the Oct 7 massacre in 6 months?

Most of the time, I don't get into the whole issue of fake stuff posted by Palestinians, because even if here a picture is AI generated, and there a vid is staged, it's obvious there are Palestinians killed in Gaza, and while some are terrorists, or directly aided Hamas, others don't deserve their fate. Still, when you come across stuff that is over the top fake, it has to be commented on, because it's a reminder that yeah, while some fake stuff is people unintentionally passing on misinformation (which can happen to everyone during a war), there are those who intentionally fake images, in order to emotionally trigger the world, and through such rage, force a narrative that only recognizes the Palestinians as victims (since Israel doesn't release the pictures of brutalized bodies to preserve the dignity of our dead), and erase the guilt of Hamas in victimizing civilians on both sides, by constantly diverting attention away from how Hamas started this war with the worst massacre and abuse of Jews since the Holocaust.

So here's just one fake vid coming out of Gaza, the woman in the first scene is clearly kissing, crying over and "mourning" a doll.

This is 27 years old Ofir Tzarfaty.

In fact, he turned 27 on Oct 7. He went to the music festival with his friends to celebrate his bday. He was murdered by Hamas, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. The IDF managed to use the fighting to locate and retrieve the corpse, his family, friends and girlfriend got to have a funeral, and say goodbye.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Youtube

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flamboyantly-incompetent · 8 months

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OoTP, Chapter 4 - Choosing Sides

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: vague hints at abusive parents (I mean it's Lucius Malfoy)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4291

After Herbology, you tried to catch Draco on his way out. He seemed preoccupied, and his friends trailed behind him, guffawing over some trinket they tossed back and forth, but he ignored them and you. They turned away from the castle and you gave up; it wasn’t worth it being late to Potions.

Perhaps you could write him a letter and send it in the post, you thought, absentmindedly stirring the contents of your cauldron. That should be discreet enough. It still irked you that you couldn’t just talk to him like a person, but in all truth, you didn’t really want people knowing you were associating with each other either. He had something of a reputation.

Though by the end of Double Potions you had formulated a plan, as you left the classroom you caught a glimpse of that unmistakable silver hair and green robes turning a corner down the corridor. You pretended to have left your quill behind, and peeled off from your friends and the stream of students heading to lunch. The soft pattering of your shoes on the cold stone floor must’ve given you away, for when you turned that same corner, Draco was leaning against the wall, arms folded, waiting for you.

“Why are you following me?” He looked somewhat harried; his hair hung slightly awry, and the shirt under his sweater vest was uncharacteristically wrinkled.

You stopped, confused. “I wanted to talk without having to send you a notarized letter.” His eyes narrowed. “I had just forgotten that this weekend was Hogsmeade, and I wondered if we could push our meeting to Sunday.”

“Oh. Sure that’s fine.” He paused, weighing his words. “I actually, uh, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I’d like to work for the Ministry, so I won’t need Herbology after all, so don’t worry about it.”

“What are you talking about? Is this because I want to reschedule?”

“Don’t be daft,” he snapped. “I can’t really picture myself doing something so undignified, working for goblins. The Ministry will be a much better fit for someone of my family’s standing.”

“I see,” you said quietly, taken aback by the venom in his words.

Draco continued quickly, “It’s just that I’ll have more important, more relevant things to focus on, and-and-and you probably do too.”

You nodded curtly, “We agreed we wouldn’t be friends. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” You paused before turning on your heel, “Good luck.”

Saturday morning came early, Wilbur purring on your chest with his wet nose sniffing at your closed eyes.

“Cat, one day you’re going to startle me so much I throw you off this bed, and it’ll be no one’s fault but yours.” He sat up, tail curled regally around him, waiting. “I can’t give you treats if you’re on top of me. Yes, yes I know.” You threw back the bed curtains and glanced at the enchanted windows. It was still somehow before dawn; everyone else was still asleep. You tsked at Wilbur, setting two treats beside him on your bed, and dressed quietly. You eased your broom out from under your bed and slunk out of your dormitory, then through the round painting door.

Almost a full week into October, the pre-dawn air was bracing as it whipped around you and your broom. The Quidditch pitch was deserted, thankfully, as it was the only area that allowed unsupervised flying on the whole grounds. There was nothing you wanted more than to fly through the trees and over the lake, but if anyone caught you they’d confiscate the broom and dock enough points to earn side-eyes until Christmas. So instead, you circled the pitch as fast as you could go, ignoring the stiff chill in your fingers as they gripped the broom handle. Patches of muddy ground spun by faster and faster until the whole world seemed brown.

“Y/N?” Your concentration broken, you yelped and had to pull up hard to keep yourself from ramming into a tower. On the ground, Yvette stood at the ready, broom in one hand and quaffle tucked neatly under the other arm. She kicked off and met you in the air. “Something you wanna talk about?”

“Not really. You don’t get enough fly time during practice?”

She shrugged. “I got into the habit, you know? After, I’m awake, and I feel better. You wanna run some passes with me?”

“Shoot, what time is it?” You’d forgotten about Hogsmeade, and the Hog’s Head, and Harry Potter. The sun was peeking over the trees, casting shadows with the tops of each tower on the pitch.

“Seven thirty, why?”

“I wanted to go to Hogsmeade today, but I can play for an hour.”

Yvette grinned and tossed you the quaffle. For whatever reason, completing random passes and scoring against imaginary opponents did a much better job of settling your mind than speed-flying in circles, although it was clear from the onset Yvette’s talent far out paced your own.

“You’ve gotten good at this,” you remarked breathily, touching down.

She scoffed, “I was always good, I just got better. So, no tutoring today?”

“Huh?”

“Your Slytherin, you aren’t sneaking off to tutor them?”

You bit your lip, the secret, evidently, out. “Donna told you?”

“You didn’t think she would? She tells everyone everything. Besides, three mornings in a row you don’t come to breakfast? We were bound to know something was up. So, you aren’t meeting them today? Or are you meeting them in Hogsmeade?”

You snorted at the thought of being seen with Draco Malfoy anywhere but a classroom. “No, no I’m just meeting up with Ginny and Luna. Besides,” you stretched your arms up, thinking how to phrase it, “I’m not tutoring the Slytherin anymore, they didn’t need much help.” She shot you a sidelong glance but didn’t press the issue.

“What about you? No Hogsmeade today?”

“Can’t, I’m behind on Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts and I do not want Umbridge or McGonagall cross with me.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get you something from Honey Dukes?”

“Yes, please.”

Filch was in an uncharacteristically chipper mood as he snatched permission forms from nervous third years, grinning maniacally all the while. You couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than the alternative, and an uncomfortable thought crossed your mind. What did willingly keeping on such a dour sadist, one seemingly convinced torture was a reasonable punishment for misbehaving children, say about Dumbledore? An uncomfortable thought, no doubt.

Across the courtyard, Ginny was holding hands with her newest boyfriend, who laughed abruptly at something she said. A twinge of jealousy spun in your gut. Ginny was, in a word, cool. Funny, talented, witty, and quite genuine, it was difficult not to like her. There was certainly a reason she was popular.

You looked around for Luna. She, on the other hand, often gave the impression that she could be perfectly content to never speak to another person ever again. You’d asked her once, unsure, if your presence was wanted at all. She’d assured you that she quite enjoyed the company in her typical lilting, ethereal tone. Finally, you spotted her at the edge of the courtyard on a stone bench, sitting with impeccable posture and clearly thinking deeply about one thing or another. She rose smoothly when you approached, smiling faintly as that faraway look refocused on you.

“Hey Luna,” you began, “Do you mind if I join you for the morning?” The crowd began to filter out and down the road to Hogsmeade.

She nodded gently, “I’m headed to Gladrags - all of my socks are infested with wrackspurt eggs.” She lifted her pant leg to show a sockless foot sitting loosely in a shoe. “They are an endangered species, after all.”

“Sure, sure. My mum loves those, I can get her an early Christmas gift.” Luna’s penchant for rare and less-than-discovered creatures, while unusual, never phased you too much. After all, if you ever met an umgubular slashkilter you’d know how to keep it from tearing your throat out, thanks to her.

The morning sun was bright and warm and, thankfully, at your backs as you marched down the road with your classmates. Chimney smoke peeked over the hills in a haze, and before long the village was in sight. You happily followed Luna into Gladrags Wizardwear, where she found a number of socks you knew she’d never wear as pairs, and you picked out a pair that changed patterns with the weather for your mother. Afterwards, you still had an hour to kill so you opted for Honeydukes. Acid pops for Yvette, a cauldron cake for Herbert, and a box of liquorice wands for Donna, and Luna sat with you outside as you split a pumpkin pastie.

It was finally warm, and a little uncomfortably so, most of the students that passed you had their coats off and tied around their waists. A group of third years were gushing loudly about the shrieking shack, each walking with a varied spring in their step. Across the cobbled street, the door to the hairdresser’s, Clifford’s Scissors, opened and the bell chimed brightly. Out came Draco Malfoy.

Oh, come on. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice you, but Luna did.

She followed your sour gaze and said, “I hear his father is visiting Hogwarts tomorrow. It is curious why he should appear now of all times.”

You swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin pastie. “What do you mean?”

“He works very closely with the Ministry. No one ever invites him, he just announces his arrival.”

“Ah,” you said. That certainly made some things clearer.

Luna glanced up at the sun. “It’s almost noon. Let’s go.” You picked up the box of candy for your friends and followed her down the road. Very far down the road. Almost to the end of the road. You would’ve thought it was a mistake if there weren’t so many other students you recognized.

Inside the Hog’s Head was… gross. You wrinkled your nose reflexively. You sat next to Luna and glanced around. Harry Potter stood next to one of Ginny’s older brothers (was it Roland?) at the bar with Hermione Granger. His expression seemed more and more morose with ever new student that came through the door. You waved to a few Hufflepuffs as they came in, but the group was mostly Gryffindor. Which, you supposed, made some amount of sense. Two of Ginny’s other older brothers, whose names you knew because of how often Filch said them like a curse, went around handing everyone a butterbeer. You took a mug from one of them, you couldn’t tell which, in exchange for two Sickles. The group sat quietly, gingerly sipping butterbeer from cloudy mugs, waiting.

Finally, the trio sat down, and Hermione began speaking. She covered essentially what Ginny had said in the hallway a few days ago, but you watched Harry’s face. She finished with, “I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because Lord Voldemort’s back.”

A palpable shiver coursed through the room, one girl actually screamed a little, which you found rather dramatic. Zacharias immediately asked for proof. You leaned forward. Although you wouldn’t have put it the way he did, you were still torn over who to believe. Harry scowled, and his answer was unsatisfying, but he still didn’t seem to be lying. In fact, he seemed quite humble even as Zacharias continued to prod him. You understood, though he began to grate on your nerves as well. In the end, you put your name on the list like everyone else, excited and nervous to actually learn something useful. Before passing it on you glanced through the names discreetly. Ron. That’s his name.

The next day was a long slog in the library, oscillating between Transfiguration and Arithmancy homework, and wondering whether Draco Malfoy’s father had arrived at the school yet. And what his purpose was. Could it be solely to dissuade his only son from a career deemed beneath him? It occurred to you that the Malfoys were a step above simply rich - it wasn’t as if they were working for the Galleons. You looked out the great stained glass windows flanking the door periodically, earning you some quizzical looks from Yvette. Evening rolled around, with not a single sign of silver hair, and you found yourself in the common room, enjoying the enchanted breeze and the warm glow of the fire, surrounded by candy wrappers, as you watched Donna crush Yvette in Wizard’s Chess. The round painting door swung open to allow a racket of overlapping voices to spill in, followed by Ernie and Hannah, Zacharias hot on their heels. They made a bee line for the notice board and pinned something on it.

“What’s this about?” you asked, walking over.

Zacharias turned sharply, agitated, “The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has disbanded all organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs.” You shared a look with the three of them, all having been present in the Hog’s Head, and remembered your friends’ presence. He continued, “That means-”

“Quidditch,” you interrupted.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “Quidditch. Which we will have to beg her to let us play otherwise we’ll be expelled.” Your mouth ran dry.

Yvette piped up, “What?! She can’t be serious.”

“Can’t she?” Hannah said sourly.

“I’ll go to her office first thing in the morning,” Zacharias assured Yvette, “hopefully we haven’t done anything to upset her.”

That night, sleep did not come easy. Learning practical skills was one thing, but being expelled for it was entirely another. Although, if Voldemort really had returned as Harry and his friends believed, Ernie had been right when he said that this was more important than anything else you could do this year.

You jumped a little, startled, when Wilbur’s furry mass appeared next to your head. He settled himself at your feet, stepping heavily on your stomach as he went.

If Voldemort really had returned, expulsion was a minor issue. You thought of Donna and Yvette, both muggle born, and your dad. If Voldemort really had returned someone was going to have to fight. And it couldn’t just be Harry Potter.

As it turned out, Umbridge was only interested in keeping the Gryffindor team in suspense, as you heard from Yvette that the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had been reinstated rather breezily when Zacharias asked. The fate of Harry Potter’s ‘study group’ remained uncertain, however, and the week trudged on with no news.

Herbology passed without incident, though you kept stealing glances at Draco to see how he was doing. By the end of class, his face was red and his eyebrows drawn, but the fanged geranium sat in a pot littered with small, shiny buttons with its toothy maw hanging open, clearly pleased with the trade. Your own geranium was resting comfortably as you made up limericks on the spot, its own jaw growing looser with every word.

By the end of the week though, you noticed a number of students you recognized from the Hog’s Head, whispering amongst themselves at dinner. You hung back when your friends left for the common room, claiming to still be hungry. Almost immediately, Harry Potter and Ginny’s brother appeared next to the Hufflepuff table.

Ron began, speaking softly, “We’ve found a spot.”

“Oh, good, I was beginning to wonder,” you trailed off.

Harry glanced around, “Tonight, eight o’clock, seventh floor. Opposite the tapestry of Barn-”

“Barnabas the Barmy. Got it.”

They nodded conspiratorially and were on their way. Great. Now you’d just have to hope no one asked you where you had been all night, and that no one would ever ask you that again. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your friends, but none of you had exactly made it clear to the others what was believed about the whole thing. And then you’d gone to the meeting, and then you’d put your name down, like joining a secret society. Should you have included them? It was risky, to them and to the rest, the more people that knew of the whole thing. You’d just have to come up with something decent later.

By the time the meeting was over, it was past curfew. You’d dueled for over an hour with Ernie Macmillan, who seemed more concerned with performing intimidating wand patterns than actually disarming you, so when the DA split up into small groups to go back to their common rooms you ended up with him. Both prefects for each house represented were in attendance, so they sent out a small group, then a prefect, then a small group, then the other prefect - so that if any were caught, it would look like they’d simply been sent back to their dormitories by the correct authority.

You walked along the dark corridors, enthusing quietly about the whole thing. Ernie had sustained a small bruise next to his left eye from one of the Creevey’s antics, but he matched your enthusiasm.

Ernie knocked on the great round wooden door, and it swung open quietly, the warm breezes of the common room greeting you.

Donna looked up from the roll of parchment she stared at hopelessly by the fireplace to watch Ernie bid you a pontifical goodnight. She waved you over. “Where have you been?” she asked once you’d sat down.

“Just some studying.”

She gave you a suspicious once-over. “You’d tell me if you were dating Ernie Macmillan, right?”

You chortled abruptly, the notion absurd and hilarious. “I would tell you, but I wouldn’t date Ernie Macmillan. I, uh, ran into him and we got to talking about Transfiguration and we lost track of time.”

“Uh huh,” she said, slowly. It was unclear whether she fully believed your explanation, but she dropped the subject regardless. “Well I’ve been sat here since supper working on the Pepperup Potion essay. So now that you’re back from studying you could help me study.”

“OK, but you have to proofread my essay for Umbridge.”

“Hand it over.”

There was an unspoken agreement between Draco and yourself to avoid each other indefinitely, broken only after a Herbology lesson on puffapods, during which Draco had forced a spore cloud from the poor thing so large that he and his two friends fainted immediately. Professor Sprout conscripted you to revive them; a ground mixture of ginger soaked in spirits and petals from the offending puffapod did the trick. The large boy on the left, you learned his name was Crabbe, startled awake red faced and ready for action. He looked around sheepishly and shoved your mortar bowl away from his face. The other one, Goyle, opened his eyes but continued to snore.

You had to shoo away some Slytherin girl who had begun shaking his shoulders, then you held the bowl under Draco’s nose, arm stretched to leave as much room between you as possible. He looked uncharacteristically peaceful, aside from the green-brown dust that discolored his pale forehead. His eyes fluttered open, and for a second you thought you could back away before he was truly lucid, but then his cold grey eyes focused on you and narrowed.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, getting to his feet in a hurry. Crabbe and Goyle immediately began dusting off his robes.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Crabbe beat you to it. “You fainted. The bloody plant-”

“Get off me.” He shooed away his lackeys, the rest of the class still staring, the Slytherin girl looking like she’d launch herself at him at her first opportunity. “I’m fine.” He did not ask about his friends.

Professor Sprout tried to continue the lesson, but between the constant thrum of quiet gossip and careless handling of the puffapods, it became clear that three people fainting had caused too much excitement. She sighed and said, “Class dismissed. I want a foot of parchment on the proper handling of puffapods due next lesson. Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Malfoy. If I could have your attention for a moment. Misters Crabbe and Goyle, you can go.” She put her hands on her hips and waited for you to approach her. “Now, am I to understand that you are no longer being tutored, Mr. Malfoy?” He shook his head, and she turned to you. “Would you care to tell me why that is?”

Draco interrupted, “I’ve decided I’d rather work with the Ministry. So I won’t need a Herbology OWL.”

A look of disappointment passed over her face. “Even so, I can’t imagine you’re happy with such unsatisfactory work.” Draco’s expression soured. “Professor Snape has told me what a skilled brewer you are, but let me tell you something. The best potions can only be brewed, not bought - and that requires the brewer to appraise high quality ingredients. Which, can you guess, requires a good understanding of what we do in this class.” Draco deflated a bit, and focused his gaze on his shoes. “Y/N, that was quick thinking with the ginger - ten points to Hufflepuff. Why did you have it on hand?”

“Oh, I, uh, I have Potions right after this.”

She gestured to you as if to say there, see what I’m saying? Her posture softened; her fists uncurled and came to rest at her sides. “I imagine you are still willing to tutor Mr. Malfoy?” His gaze snapped to you, his expression unreadable.

You only hesitated a moment, after all he wasn’t particularly pleasant, but you had improved significantly in Transfiguration all thanks to his brief instruction. You nodded your head definitively.

Professor Sprout smiled, her cheeks turning rosy again. “I can’t force you, Mr. Malfoy, but you should consider it. Now, off you pop!” She wrote you both notes in case you were late, which you knew you would be, and herded you out of the greenhouse into the cold October sun.

Draco resumed ignoring you, until you stepped into the castle and he said, still not looking at you, “Saturday?”

“Quidditch pitch?”

He nodded. “I’ll bring the hedgehog.”

“I’ll bring some books,” you finished, and you parted ways in front of the massive fireplace.

Professor Snape was not happy when you arrived at Potions. “Miss Y/L/N, late again?”

You held out the note. “I am sorry, Professor. I do have a note this time.” He took it unceremoniously, his hooded eyes inspecting Professor Sprout’s signature. He glanced at you appraisingly, then gestured for you to sit down so he could continue his lesson on Beautification Potion.

Once again, you trudged down the path to the Quidditch pitch far too early on a Saturday. Draco had already set up the Slytherin themed quilt and his portable fireplace, he was hastily drying some patches of melted frost around the edges of the space. His back was to you, and hadn’t seemed to notice your arrival, so you set the stack of books you carried down gently and slid the box presumably containing McGonagall’s hedgehog towards you. He remembered you, apparently, and didn’t protest when you scooped him up and sat him in your lap to wait for Draco to notice you.

“Sicco,” he muttered under his breath. He checked the watch on his wrist and turned around. You grinned, and he yelped when he saw you; his eyes narrowed. “How long have you been sitting there?”

You scratched the hedgehog’s back lightly. “Only a bit. We had to get reacquainted.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I saw you three days ago.”

“I was talking about the hedgehog.”

“Oh, well. That does make more sense.” He sat down across from you, apparently satisfied with his handiwork. “I, uh, just wanted you to know that I-”

“You don’t have to apologize, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“I was going to tell you not to apologize.”

“Me? Apologize for what?”

“For humiliating me in front of an entire classroom, obviously!”

Your face turned hot. “You fainted! What was I supposed to do?”

He crossed his arms, his face equally inflamed. “Well you didn’t have to come rushing into save me like I was some helpless child.”

“It’s not my fault you ignore Professor Sprout’s instructions. Would you have preferred to be carried off to the hospital wing? Your friends fainted too, you know, you could try caring about someone other than yourself.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You gaped at him. “Everything! You and your friends fainted. During class. And you’re so concerned with appearances you can’t even acknowledge that someone might do something nice for you just for the sake of it.” You stopped, surprised. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You think I’m going to want something from you. Right?” He shrugged. “Bloody hell.” You set the hedgehog down and stood up to pace.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m… I’m sorry. Ok? I keep forgetting I can’t treat you like them.”

You stopped to glare at him, refused to be appeased by what very well may have been the first time he’d apologized for anything in his life. “Like who?”

“Crabbe and Goyle.”

“Why would you treat your friends like this anyway?”

“Well, they’re not really friends. Our families go way back, so they’re more like colleagues.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He shrugged. You sat back down and pulled the hedgehog back into your lap. “So, the Ministry, huh? What would you be doing for them?” He looked at you suspiciously. “Fine, don’t tell me. I just hope it was your idea, and not your dad’s. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” You dropped the stack of books you brought into his lap and pointed at the one on top.

#draco malfoy #draco x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter #slow burn #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #dumbledore's army #order of the phoenix

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elisysd · 10 months

Text

Happiness is a butterfly - Lana Del Rey

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

Happiness is a butterfly Try to catch it like every night It escapes from my hand into moonlight

“What does one wear for a first Grand Prix attendance?” asked around Lyanna, half panicking.

Charles, who was reading the notes he had taken the day prior, looked at her. She had several outfits laid on the bed and was rummaging through her make up bag.

“I think that no matter what you’ll wear, you will be beautiful.”

He narrowly dodged a lip gloss that Lyanna threw in his direction.

“Can’t you stop being a cliché boyfriend for five minutes and help me? I’m stressing out Charles!”

He couldn't prevent a goofy smile from forming on his face.

“You called me your boyfriend.”

“Charles, please, you are definitely not helping.”

“It’s the first time you call me like that.” he said, coming up behind her to hold her waist.

“Yeah, first and last one if you don’t help me.” She whined, trying to get away from him.

“All right, all right, there's no need to get worked up.” he said, raising both hands in defence. “Be comfortable, that's the most important thing, that's just the qualifying session. It's watched, but it's not the real race. Tomorrow we'll be under more scrutiny.”

“Thank you, that’s what I wanted to know. See, you can cooperate when you want.”

“Do I get a reward?” he asked, smiling.

“Don’t push your luck, Leclerc. Get the pole and we can talk about it again.”

“You sure know how to keep me motivated.”

She winked at him before taking an outfit in her arms and locking herself in the bathroom.

But Charles and Lyanna definitely did not go unnoticed. American fans could be very loud and expressive. It wasn't long before the couple found themselves in the middle of the crowd, the fans first wanting autographs from Charles before they realised that Lyanna was there too and started asking her for pictures. Fortunately, security quickly dispersed the crowd and took them to safety inside the paddock and the Ferrari hospitality area. Charles kept his hand on Lyanna's the whole time, applying gentle pressure to let her know he was there without having to speak.

At the Ferrari garage, the atmosphere was just as busy. Engineers and mechanics were busy preparing Carlos and Charles' cars for the qualifying session. Soon Charles was pulled in by Fred Vasseur to discuss strategy, leaving Lyanna alone, unsure of where to go or what to do. Thankfully, she wasn't alone for long. Joris entered the garage, out of breath and as red as Charles' racing suit. He caught Lyanna's eye as she waved to him. He walked over to her and asked where Charles was.

“He was supposed to wait for me before coming here. I waited for like an hour and he doesn’t answer his phone. I had to order an uber to come, I was scared I would miss the beginning of quali. I should blame you and you should be the one to pay for the taxi!” he playfully told her.

“Sorry, we’ve been a bit distracted this morning… we left the hotel late.”

“Do I wanna know why? Don’t answer, I don’t really want to know. Well, actually that’s not entirely true. My love life is as inexistant as Santa Claus so I kinda live vicariously through Charles’, but not to the point that I want to hear details about your sexual life.”

“Well, good because I was not about to tell you anything about that.”

“Not saying that you would. Charles, on the other hand…”

She must have been making a funny face because he quickly added:

“Not saying that’s what he does! It’s just that sometimes when he talks about you guys, he has the tendency to say too much information and…”

“I don’t know how you manage to do it but, the more you talk, the worse you are making your situation.” She cut him with a half-smile on her face.

“I’m just going to shut up then.” He said while nodding.

Charles soon returned, wearing a jumpsuit and deep in discussion with Andrea. He looked concentrated and Lyanna didn't want to disturb him. So she preferred to stay with Joris, who in the meantime had gone to get two of the crew's headsets. There was only half an hour to go before the start of the race and Lyanna felt nervous. For the first time, seeing all the people involved around Charles and the car, watching him prepare meticulously, she understood just how dangerous the sport could be. She bit her nails, a bad habit she had when anxiety began to build. Her eyes were fixed on her boyfriend. He could feel it as he turned his eyes towards her and gave her a discreet nod, telling her to come closer, which she did with hesitant steps. He smiled gently to reassure her.

“Everything will be alright.”

“I know, it’s just that I don’t know what I should expect. It’s an unusual environment for me.”

“You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. I’m supposed to get in the car in five minutes, I jut wanted to make sure you were okay. Stay with Joris, he knows how things work here.”

She nodded and he pressed his forehead against her while brushing her fingers with his. she looked up at him and smiled.

“Okay. Well… be fast. And come back to me in one piece. I love you.”

He pressed a kiss on her forehead then on her lips, whispering an “I love you too”, before putting on his helmet and heading towards his car.

Charles managed to take pole ahead of Max by just a few hundredths, despite a difficult start to qualifying which almost saw him drop out of Q1. So it was a happy Charles who walked through the garage doors after a quick chat with the journalists. His first reaction was to find Fred and give him a warm hug, before heading towards Lyanna and Joris, who were in a corner of the room, away from any possible cameras that might be around.

He shook hands with Joris, who patted him on the shoulder before turning to Lyanna and giving her a hug. He could see a certain pride in her eyes, even though he knew she must have been anxious when she saw him in the car. As for Lyanna, she could see both joy and tiredness on Charles's face. She ran her hand over his face, tracing the marks left by his balaclava. Somehow, she found him even more handsome this way. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation of her fingers on his skin wash over him, and sighed with contentment. He leaned into her touch before placing a kiss on the palm of her hand.

“Congrats champ.” She whispered to him.

“Wait, I still have to keep Max behind me tomorrow.”

“I don’t care, you are still my champ whether you win or you lose.”

He kissed her forehead while pulling her closer to him.

“I race to win, Lya, not to be second place.”

He felt her shrugged against him.

He let go of her for a moment, just long enough to go and take a shower, and Joris excused himself for a moment, needing to take a call. Lyanna found herself alone in the middle of the mechanics. Not one to stand around and do nothing, she decided to leave the garage. Outside, everyone was so busy with the cars and other drivers that no one paid any attention to her. She wandered the aisles at her leisure, soaking up the atmosphere, but not before sending a short message to Charles informing him that she'd gone out for a breath of fresh air and would meet him at the entrance to the paddock. She soon found herself in front of the Mercedes hospitality from which Carmen was emerging. The young woman saw her and waved to her.

“Lyanna! Fancy seeing you here! You should have texted me; we could have watched the qualifications together.”

“I did not know you would be here. By the way congrats on George P4.”

“You can thank him yourself; he is right here.” Carmen informed her, looking behind her as a tall British man was crossing the doors, followed by Lewis who was accompanied by a bulldog that Lyanna assumed was Roscoe.

“Lyanna, hey! Are you alone?” asked Lewis when he spotted her.

“Yep, I wanted to explore a little.” she replied, stooping down to pet the dog that was now demanding her attention.

They all chatted for a little while before proceeding to leave the paddock. In a corner, she was surprised to already see Charles who seemed deeply absorbed by something on his phone. He has his sunglasses on making, his expression a little unreadable. Hearing the laughs of the group, he looked up and spotted his girlfriend. With quick steps, he approached the group.

“Lyanna, thank God. Is it too much to ask for you to answer your phone? I was worried. It’s been an hour.”

Surprised by her boyfriend's outburst, she took out her phone and found that it had indeed been an hour since she'd left. With all the talking and laughing, she'd lost track of time. She noticed the dozens of missed calls from Charles and the numerous SMS messages and immediately felt bad. She quickly excused herself before wrapping her arm around Charles and intertwining her fingers with his.

“It’s okay, just… check your phone from time to time. I was about to organize a search party for you.”

Then his attention turned to the Mercedes drivers.

“How are you guys knowing each other?”

“Well I’ve met Carmen at your birthday party and Lewis is an old acquaintance. Remember, I told you that.”

“Oh yeah, it slipped of my mind.”

“Lyanna and I met in London, last year, I think? It was at a conference centered around environment and ecology. I’ve never thought that I would see her on a race one day.”

“Really, why?” asked Charles out of curiosity.

“Because if I remember well, when I told her I was a F1 driver she said very clearly that our sport was a disaster for the planet and that she could not understand how it was still happening.”

All eyes were on the young woman, who suddenly found the ground fascinating. Charles nudged her playfully with his elbow to tease her, whereupon she lightly pinched his arm, causing him to squeal a little in pain.

“Keep teasing and you’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

“Beware Charles, you are going to end up in the doghouse tonight!” joked George.

“Speaking of dog, Lewis if you ever in need of a dogsitter tomorrow I would be happy to take Roscoe with me.”

“I appreciate Lyanna, thank you.”

The group laughed together for a few more moments, before everyone went off in opposite directions. Fortunately for Lyanna and Charles, it was getting late and there were far fewer people around, allowing them to breathe a little easier and head back to the hotel in peace.

But their peace was short-lived. Shortly after entering the bedroom door, and just as Lyanna had left to shower, a notification from the Scuderia's official Instagram page appeared on Charles' screen. Curious, he opened it and felt a knot form in his stomach when he saw the photo posted. It was a black-and-white close-up of the brief moment they'd exchanged with Lyanna a few minutes before he started qualifying. His hand was resting on the cheek of the young woman who was looking at him with eyes filled with admiration. Their foreheads were pressed together and, had circumstances been different, he would have found the photo absolutely sublime. It was, but it was also a private moment. As if that weren't enough, the caption on the photo was not so subtly announcing their relationship.

Thanks @lyannamicheloff for being @charlesleclerc lucky charm. Pole Position for our favourite Monegasque.

A wave of anger swept over him. How dare they? Charles had always been more or less discreet about his private life, and although he had no desire to hide Lyanna, this was certainly not the way he'd imagined announcing his relationship to his fans. Lyanna returned to the room, a towel wrapped around her and her hair damp, completely unaware of what just happened. But seeing Charles pale and with a dark look on his face, clutching his phone in his hand until his knuckles were white, she understood. Gently, she approached him and took the phone out of his hand to look at the screen. Charles didn't try to stop her. He felt her tense up and slightly flinch when he threw his arm around her to pull her against him.

“I promise you that they are going to hear me. I don’t care if they are using me but I won’t let them drag you into that. It’s messed up and wrong on so many levels.”

Lyanna had never seen Charles this angry.

“What is done is done, Charles. We just have to deal with it.” She tried to calm down but sounded defeated.

“I’m going to talk to Mia tomorrow. I’m going to explain to her exactly what I think about this kind of shit. Don’t worry, okay.”

“I’m not worrying about me Charles; I’m worried about you. You have a race tomorrow and you are starting on pole, you should not have to deal with this kind of things. I’m going to call my agent and ask for advice. You should rest.”

She got up and took out her phone, already having missed a few texts and calls from family and friends. She chose to ignore them for the time being. She slipped an arm around Charles's neck as she rose and placed a kiss on his cheek before slipping out onto the balcony. As soon as she had closed the door, she dialed her agent and explained the situation.

“I don’t know Lya. It’s really up to you guys. You know that I would never interfere with your relationship. But if you really want my opinion on that, I will tell you to own the narrative and not let it be controlled by someone. But it’s up to you if you want to be public about it and how.” Told her Sofia.

She sighed. She was not comfortable at the idea to give a glimpse of what her relationship was like. Mainly because it was the best way to give people right to speculate, comment and attack them. She wished Sofia a good day and went back inside. She quickly summarized her conversation to Charles, who was lying on the bed, scanning the comments under the Instagram post.

“Some people say that you are using me for fame. As if you needed me to succeed.” He mumbled. “And some of what I assume are your fans are saying that it’s me who is using you. They are fighting in the comments. It would be funny if the situation was not so delicate and dramatic.”

Lyanna took the phone from Charles' hands and placed it on the bedside table before settling down beside him and forcing him to look at her. She had rarely seen him look so defeated and sad.

“We will be fine, we are going to find a way, okay? But for now, it’s late and you have a race to focus on winning. I don’t care about the picture. Well, I’m pissed off but it doesn’t change our relationship. Tomorrow, I’m going to show up with you and I’m going to cheer you on and when you’ll win, I’ll be front row to watch you with a proud smile on my face. Because I love you. No matter what the people and Ferrari think.”

“Thank you. For being you. I must have done something really nice in a past life to have you by my side today.”

When Charles arrived at the paddock with Lyanna the next day, everyone was in a frenzy, wanting a photo and a quick word with the couple. It took Charles and Lyanna almost an hour to get to the Ferrari garage, which made Charles late for his meeting with his engineers and team strategists. They had very little time to themselves, just a few minutes before Charles had to take his place in the car.

“Here, wear this for me, okay?” he said while giving her the famous horse bracelet offered by Lyanna a few months ago. “It’s going to bring me luck I can feel it.”

“You don’t need luck but if it can make you feel better, fine.”

She put it around her wrist before looking at him and taking his hands in hers.

“Well, it’s time for me to go.”

“Then, be fast. Come back to me in one piece. I love you.”

“I love you.”

The race began shortly afterwards. Charles got off to a very good start and managed, not without difficulty, to keep Max under control behind him. Then, on lap 15, the race changed dramatically. While Charles was busy keeping an eye on Max and battling with him, he did not see George attempt to take his chance a few metres behind. Caught between the two cars, the Ferrari ended up colliding violently with the Red Bull and was thrown a few metres above the ground, ending up in the gravel. The dust caused by the debris and gravel did not immediately reveal that the car was upside down, in a way it should not be.

=======

author's note: I'm going to go hide in a corner. I'm sorry guys but a little bit of drama was needed lmao. Don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts in the comment / ask box / DM wherever you feel most comfortable to do so! It's always a pleasure to read you.

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #fiction #writing #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #f1 x oc #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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thelampisaflashlight · 8 months

Text

Everything Goes On Pt. 7

[Mistakes were made. Not suitable for younger audiences. Previous part here.] Below the cut.

"Ya know..." Swiss whispers to Dew as Papa leads the beginnings of mass, "...I've never been really into this whole going to church thing, but something about seeing you dressed up all modest-like is making me feel strangely pious..."

"I'll make you pious your pants if you don't shut up." Dew glowers, shooting him a glare from his spot in the first row, "Now sit up straight and listen to the sermon."

"Yes, Mom."

"You-"

Mountain pinches Swiss' ear, pulling him back.

"Ow!"

"Behave."

Swiss pouts.

"You both suck..."

Dew sighs and does his best to ignore Swiss' antics, if Aether were here, he would...

"-and now to perform the ceremonial rites, I ask the Bishop Dewcifer to-"

"Wait, seriously, that's your full name-" Swiss whisper shouts leaning forward again.

Dew stealthily smacks Swiss on the back of his head with his tail as he stands before proceeding to join Copia on stage.

"To assist the bishop in this most sacred of rituals, Sister Cumulus will-"

Despite a few minor hiccups -in the form of actual hiccups on the part of a toddler in the back of the hall drinking his juice too fast, and thankfully not Dew himself, because that would have been mortifying- the rites are completed with ease.

Dew had been more or less confident he would remember the words he needed to recite, and that Cumulus would know the order of the candles that needed to be lit by heart, but there's always those last minute jitters to contend with.

Overall, the ceremony had gone well.

By now, most of the siblings have returned to their dorms to prepare for the post ritual feast, save for Copia, Cumulus, a few select members of the clergy who would act as witnesses, and Dew himself of course, so the atmosphere had shifted to a more casual one.

With important figures like Sister Imperator and Mr. Saltarian gone off to attend to matters elsewhere, no one is feeling particularly serious.

Dew, with the assistance of Cumulus, has shucked his outer robes in favor of the simple cassock worn beneath the heavy layers of fabric, and even Copia had removed his mitre, a clear sign to those gathered that this is, essentially, break time.

"Remind me to wear crocs under my robes next time, these fucking dress shoes are killing my feet." Dew groans, leaning on Mountain, who has graciously offered to keep his friend balanced while he kicks off his footwear in favor of sliding on the loose slippers he'd dropped into the ghoul's lap just before the ceremony, "Gonna suck to put those back on..."

"Want to trade?" Cumulus asks, holding up her heels, having opted to go barefoot, the soles of her stocking covered feet being soothed by the cold stone flooring, "Ugh... at least part of the path to the sunken chapel is paved..."

Dew stretches, "I doubt your tiny shoes would fit me."

"Your feet aren't much bigger than mine, see?" Cumulus places her foot beside Dew's, "There's maybe a centimeter of difference."

"Tell you what, so long as no one dies during the summoning tonight, I'll try on your heels AFTER dinner." Dew says, moving to lightly step on Cumulus' foot.

"...Can you wear her dress, too?" A curious looking Swiss asks, poking his head into view from behind Mountain, "And while we're at it-"

"I'm not wearing a dress, Swiss." Dew rolls his eyes, "Shoes are one thing, but a dress is going too far."

"You have worn a skirt before though." Cumulus points out.

"Please don't encourage him."

"You guys, Dew can't wear Cumulus' dress." Mountain says flatly.

"Thank you, Mount, I knew you'd be on my s-"

"Burgundy doesn't match his skin tone, I think maybe a baby blue would be better, like that short little nightgown Sunny used to wear."

"Oooh~! You're so right, Mount!" Cumulus claps her hands together excitedly, "I could even do your make-up~!"

Dew purses his lips then sighs.

"And where exactly am I getting all dolled up to go, Lus? Huh?"

Swiss slides up behind Dew and wraps his hands around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, "Could come by my room later and finish up that back rub Cirrus so rudely interrupted, hm~?"

Dew considers this for a moment, feeling Swiss' hands sink to his hips.

"Hold on, Cirrus walked in on you two getting it on?" Cumulus asks, "Really?"

"I mean, we weren't actually gonna fuck-"

Swiss nods solemnly, "It was an apology massage for being a dick."

"-and then Cirrus burst through my door, busted the lock."

"Undid all of my hard work." he pouts, slipping his hands around to squeeze Dew's ass, earning a swat from Dew's tail, "So mean..."

"Why'd she do that??" Cumulus wonders, crossing her arms, "Actually, Cir's been acting kind of funny lately..."

"Funny haha, or funny bad?"

"More like... funny... upset?" Cumulus places her hands under her chin, "She's been really clingy lately, and only just this morning we had a fight about- Never mind. I'll try talking to her some more later, it's not worth getting into right now, we have to head over to the chapel soon."

"Wanna take bets on spade shape?" Swiss proposes, "I still have my bingo card from Sunny's summoning."

"Satanas, I forgot how informal that all was... I blame being cooped up in the abbey for over a year with you guys." Cumulus shakes her head.

"It felt more like a baby shower instead of a summoning honestly..." Mountain says, earning a series of curious stares from the other ghouls, "What? You all forget I've been on the surface for a very long time now."

"How many baby showers have you been to??" Dew questions, once more slapping Swiss' hands away from his butt as they begin the walk to the chapel.

"I have been many a siblings plus one to these sorts of events." he says, "I have eaten many a gender reveal cake to the sounds of a couple bickering over the fact that one of them wanted a boy or a girl and wound up expecting the other..."

"Ooughh..." the other ghouls hiss.

"There was one that I enjoyed though, it was a bee themed party... 'Announcing The Arrival of Our Bay-Bee'. Very cute, ten out of ten."

"What'd the cake look like?" Cumulus asks.

"A lovely yellow honeycomb without any hauntingly blue or pink dye to make my bowel movements look like I have some kind of disease-"

"So, kits, yes or no?" Aether had asked Dew once while they were laying in bed together.

Dew hummed thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head.

"Can you imagine me as a parent? I'd be awful..."

Aether had cuddled him close then and told him sincerely, "I think you'd be a wonderful dad."

Dew is panicking.

The moon must have decided to have a blue light special, because not only did the summoning spell spit out one ghoul, it spit out two ghouls a freaking baby-

"I-It's not mine."

"Not mine either..."

-who is now clinging onto the front of Dew's cassock for dear life making little alarmed "meeps" whenever someone tries to make a grab for them, having retreated into the folds of the band around Dew's waist to hide when he himself tried to remove them.

"How did this happen??" Copia wonders aloud, looking over the incantations for a third time, "Do... D-Do we send it back?? Did we just kidnap... kitnap?? A baby??"

Mountain gently pats Copia's back, "It's fine, it's fine... and, no, now we can't send it back that would be dangerous."

"What do we do with it then??"

Swiss pokes the lump hiding under Dew's waistband, making the kit wiggle and squirm.

Dew smacks his hand away, "Don't do that."

"Because I'll scare it?"

"Yeah, and it fucking tickles."

"Don't swear in front of the baby!" Swiss gasps.

"I doubt it understands what we're saying." Dew says, placing his palm over the kit, "Thing's tiny as sh-... Heck. Tiny as heck. Probably still has its ears pinned."

"For real though, what do we do with it?" Cumulus asks, trying to peek at the kit from the gap in the band, "There's no way we could send it back."

Dew glances off to the side, "Well... I mean, it's kind of our responsibility now..."

Dinner is... shockingly uneventful.

Mountain had half expected the clergy to crazy at the sight of not only two new ghouls, but a kit to boot, but the overall reception is one of subdued excitement.

It's later in the evening, so, really, he can't be all that surprised, but he'd assumed at least one person would ask about the strange little ball of fluff tucked into his sweater...

Indeed, they'd managed to free the kit from Dew's cassock, but the poor thing started shaking almost immediately upon contact with the air, so Mountain offered to keep it warm for the time being until they could figure out what to do with it otherwise.

Dew, who opted to sit beside him at dinner, spent about half the night feeding the kit scraps from his plate.

Little bits of turkey, less than half a spoonful of mashed potatoes, the teeniest bit of goat milk... Honestly, Mountain was surprised at how easily Dew seemed to take to caring for the kit, only to get a reality check in the form of a reminder that the fire ghoul had raised multiple dogs up from puppies, and the process of feeding and maintaining a kit was not all that dissimilar up until a point.

However, a phantom of a voice plays in the back of his mind.

“Can you imagine Dew as a parent? He could barely take care of himself up until a couple years ago, and that’s only because I spent ages trying to learn what makes him goddamn tick.”

“I’m ready to step back from things and slow down and he’s… he’s still acting like we’re a couple of kits. I… I don’t have the energy to put up with him anymore, so I ended things now before things got any… any worse.”

"I'm tired of being his caretaker, Mount."

Mountain glances at Dew as he feeds the kit another bite sized piece of turkey, using his thumb to wipe away a bit of gravy from its face.

"So... Does this make you a dad now?" Mountain asks, and Dew laughs.

"Nah... I'm not ready to be a parent. Think I'll stick to raising my Hellhounds a little longer." He says, watching the kit curl up to sleep, "Besides, I know there's some ghouls here that would happily take this guy in."

"It's a boy?" Mountain asks, tilting his chin to look at the kit, "And you do?"

"Hell if I know, I wasn't about to check while it was already freaked out." he shrugs, "And yeah, yeah, I do."

Dew nods in the direction of two of the ghouls who had been keeping guard earlier in the evening... Cowbell and Special.

"...What?" Mountain's eyes go wide, "Those two?"

"Shhh..." Dew shushes him, "Yeah, back when... when Aether was still working in the infirmary, they were trying to work on adopting a human kit they were fostering together, but ya know how that stuff goes..."

"I didn't even know those two were a thing..." Mountain whispers, "...I mean good for them, I guess... Also, weren't there three guards earlier?"

Dew nods, then gestures for Mountain to lean over.

"I managed to set Swiss up with them for the evening instead of me, they both ran off before Copia finished the toast."

Mountain blinks.

"You turned down se-" he glances down at the sleeping kit, "-adult fun time with Swiss for this?"

"Ehn, I wasn't feeling up to it anymore honestly..." Dew admits, "It's... different now without Aether. Just not the same when you don't get cuddles afterwards. I mean, Swiss is good at that kind of stuff, but, ya know... doesn't have the same, uhh, oomph to it, I guess."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

Mountain takes a moment to ponder what he's learned.

"...Seriously though, Special and Cowbell?"

"I know, right??"

#lamp writes #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic

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