#she wanted to be a normal person. which is why she’d go to the coffee shop and order coffee and sit there. with her coffee

[flashhwing]

you ever think about how much Agnes Montague wanted to be a normal person and fall in love but she went through life unable to touch anyone or anything for fear of horribly maiming it. so the day before she died she finally allowed herself to feel the touch of another person, just once, and in doing so burned his face off

#I don’t actually remember if she died the next day or what I listened to this years ago it is half remembered #but like my god Agnes montague. what a fucking character. sometimes I remember and and I’m like Damn #I want to know more about her. the unknowability is half the point #this has been a post #oh rereading this I wanna make it clear #I do not mean to equate ‘normal person’ and ‘fall in love’ those are separate points #she wanted to be a normal person. which is why she’d go to the coffee shop and order coffee and sit there. with her coffee #and she wanted to fall in love. which is why she dated whatsisname. Jack? idr #different. separate points #connected! because they are both experiences she was barred from both by nature of what she was and by her specific upbringing #but yeah. not meant to be conflated there sorry

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

I keep thinking about fluff/smut where, for once, Pedro Pascal is the one crushing on (fem) reader- don’t get me wrong, I love all the daddy dom vibes, but him catching feelings for a funny/sweet younger woman and getting all flustered about it?

Maybe a mid-late 20-something year old, someone who is a friend of a friend or an extra on set~ I just think as flirty and charming as he is, he’d be one to get as red as a tomato around his little crush <3

What do you think? I’d love to hear your take!

Okay, so first, sorry it took me so long to respond, I saw this ask and I got an Idea™ and I had to run with it because why not? Second, I hope you like what I came up with as an answer, I tried. So here it is:

Ask Her

Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: I haven't written anything in forever, I'm still suffering from Writer's Block so go easy on me. Also it's not proofread and it's 6:40 in the morning so any mistakes are my bad. Special thanks to @ziggyrocket for the support 💜.

Warnings: None

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the third time that day that you felt his eyes on you, and when you turned around to look at him, you saw him look away quickly.

Next to him, Bella, rolled their eyes. "You know you could just go over and talk to her," they pointed out.

He shook his head. "And say what?"

"Umm how about 'Hi, how are you? How’s your day going?’ to start with."

“Right and then what?”

“Then you have a conversation like a normal person…” Nico chimed in from his other side.

“And eventually ask her out,” Bella finished, “because this whole staring and then looking away thing is ridiculous.”

“Yeah and you clearly like her,” Nico added.

Pedro averted his eyes and looked down at his phone in his hands, clearly not wanting to admit to anything. 

Nico and Bella exchanged glances over his head and with a mischievous glint in their eye, Bella gasped, “Oh, she’s looking over here!”

Pedro’s head shot up, his cheeks turning a bright red, as he looked over to where you were; but you were deep in conversation with one of the other make-up artists, not even remotely looking that way.. Nico and Bella snickered at him. He sighed and shook his head at them.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Bella said, “I was just proving our point.”

Nico nodded. “Eventually, you’re gonna have to talk to her.”

As fate would have it, “eventually” came sooner than expected. Later that week, you were assigned to do his make-up, since the artist that regularly did it was out for the day. So, when Pedro walked in and saw you standing there, he stopped abruptly and just stared for a second. You didn’t notice at first, since your back was turned, but when you looked into the mirror and saw him standing there, looking at you, you smiled wide and turned around.

“Hi.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He then cleared his throat. “Hi,” he managed to get out. “Um, where’s…?”

“She had something she had to do, family I think, so you have me today,” you answer, “I promise, you’re in good hands.” You gave him another smile and gestured for him to sit in the chair. 

He sat and you began carefully applying his make-up. At first you worked in silence, neither of you sure of what to say. 

You had felt his eyes on you from the moment you walked on set. You weren’t so sure that it meant anything in the beginning. You were, after all, just a lowly make-up artist, not even the primary one, why would someone like him even look twice at you? But as time went on, you started to notice it more and more. It really hit you when, one day, you were touching up Nico’s make-up and she casually joked that he seemed to perk up more when you were around. 

“He smiles more,” she’d said, “it’s almost like he’s had an extra strong cup of coffee.”

“Mind you,” Gabriel had chimed in, “he doesn’t really need it.”

You all laughed. Pedro’s hyperactivity was well known. Which made his current silence a bit odd. 

He’s nervous, you thought.

He cleared his throat again, bringing you back to the present. You figured that you might as well strike up some kind of conversation. Funnily enough, he had the same thought.

“So…” you both began at the same time. Then you stopped. You looked at him and you both burst into laughter.

“You go ahead,” you said.

He shook his head. “Nah, you go.”

“Gentlemen first,” you commented with a smirk.

He laughed at that, then asked, “What are you listening to?”

“Huh?” you touched the earbud you had in your ear that was playing a song softly. “Oh, just some music to wake me up.”

He raised his eyebrows and gestured with his hand for you to explain more. 

“Prince,” you said simply, “Raspberry Beret.”

He smiled wide at that. “Love that song.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Hmm, okay,” you said, and put the brush and powder you had in your hand down on the table behind you. 

You went over to your bag and dug around in it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Normally,” you began, “I just keep my earbuds in, because I know not everyone likes the same music I do… aha,” you said triumphantly as you pulled out your mini bluetooth speaker, “but when I’m  alone, I use this.”

You turned on the speaker and set it on the table, then connected your phone. Soon the beat began and you both sang along.  “I was working part-time in a five and dime, my boss was Mr. McGee…”

You picked up your brush again and started back on his make-up, your head bopping along to the song.

After that, it seemed like the ice had been broken. He started asking you more questions: where you from, how long you had been doing make-up, favorite color, etc. You answered all of them with ease, and asked him more questions in return.

Before you knew it, you were finished. “All right, all done,” you announced. 

“That was quick,” he said. In truth, you had taken a little bit longer than you normally would have, you just wanted to spend a bit more time with him. “Um, I guess I better get going…”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you said, as you put away the brushes and other things. You both were shy again.

“I’ll, um, I’ll see you out there,” he said, standing and stretching.

You turned and looked up at him, into his eyes. That made him blush. You smiled and you felt your own cheeks grow warm. “Yeah, of course.”

After that, he was more comfortable around you. From time to time the both of you could be found, earbuds in, heads bobbing along to some song or another or dancing around to music blasting from your portable bluetooth speaker. It was obvious to everyone who spent five minutes around the two of you that you both liked each other; there were inside jokes, laughter, and shared looks between you two, but the weeks went by and nothing more happened. 

Bella and Nico were frustrated with this. How was it possible that the most outgoing person they knew, couldn’t even bring himself to ask you out, when it was obvious that he wanted to?

Bella approached him again. “All I’m saying is you need to…” 

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” Bella argued.

“You were gonna say I need to ask her out,” Pedro responded.

“Well you do,” Nico said.

“She won’t say yes.”

“You don’t know that,” they both said at the same time. 

“All we’re saying is it won’t hurt to ask,” Bella said.

“It would hurt if she said no,” he pointed out.

“Which she won’t do,” Nico added, rolling her eyes.

“How do you…?”

“How do we know? By the way she looks at you,” Bella sighed

“She doesn’t…”

“Yeah, she does, she looks at you the same way you look at her.” 

Pedro sighed and shook his head. 

"What’s the problem?” Bella asked. “There’s something else isn’t there?”

He looked around, making sure they were alone, before confessing the one thing that was holding him back. “I-I’m too old,” he said quietly.

Bella and Nico exchanged glances, then started giggling. 

“It’s not funny.”

“No, but it is,” Bella said, “because it’s bullshit. If she didn’t like you she wouldn’t spend nearly as much time around you as she does, she wouldn’t talk to you as much as she does, none of it. I’m sure your age means nothing to her.”

“Exactly,” Nico agreed, nodding, then looking around she spotted you talking to someone. “So, what you’re gonna do is go over there and ask her out, and,” she said ignoring Pedro’s grunt of protest, “she’s gonna say yes, and you’re gonna take her somewhere nice.”

Pedro stared at you, as you talked and laughed with one of the other crew members, his nerves getting the best of him again. He wanted to go over to you, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. He looked at Bella and Nico and shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He looked back over at you, the conversation you were having had come to an end, and you were standing there, going through one of your bags, looking for something. 

At that moment, you looked up and around, spotting him. You smiled and he did the same, swallowing around the lump grown in his throat. He felt Bella push him forward slightly and sighed. They weren’t going to let this go until he did something, he knew. So, he squared his shoulders and walked over to you, smiling and blushing, but determined.

#ask #answered #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fiction #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #bella ramsey #nico parker #ficlet #wiskey writes

[possibilistfanfiction]

Surgeons au: "please take a break"

[idk where this started & idk where this went but boy is it soft lol]

//

beatrice is exhausted.

you get home — to her house, but you have a key and most of your things have migrated over steadily: a drawer for your underwear; your favorite coffee roast in the cabinet; your spare cane in the corner of the bedroom; the garden you’d planted and tended in the back yard in full bloom now — and see her slumped over, her head in her hands, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. it’s been like this for days, since she lost a patient from a routine surgery that went badly and then went worse than badly. it wasn’t her fault, not at all, but beatrice, you’ve found, despite her reticence and calm, is a person who feels everything deeply. for all of your differences, you think this is maybe the similarity that makes the most sense to you, the one that lets you navigate what she needs when things are too big and too near and impossibly sad.

she lifts her head, a blush rising to her cheeks, when you come in from the garage. ‘oh,’ she says, like she lost track of time; she probably did.

‘hello to you too.’

she smiles apologetically. ‘hello, darling.’

you toss your tote on the couch; on a normal day, when things aren’t so heavy, this would make her sigh in fond exasperation, but now she just waits, still, for you to slip your shoes off and pad over to her. 

‘i’m all sweaty,’ she says, holding up a hand before you can hug her. you glance down and see that she’s still in a pair of her climbing pants and an old hoodie, her hands still slightly dusty with chalk. 

‘you went to the gym?’

she nods, and you spare her the lecture of why it’s a bad idea to go bouldering after a marathon shift, especially when she hasn’t been sleeping even on her days off.

‘i just needed something else to think about, to — to feel with my hands.’

you’re, like, the most mature person in the world now, basically, because you read the room and refrain from making one of many of the dirty jokes that immediately pop into your head. it’s too easy anyway. ‘are you feeling better?’

she sighs, slumps even further onto the stool. ‘i’m feeling tired.’

‘yeah, i bet you are.’ you don’t care about her being sweaty, don’t care about any of it, really, but how to possibly comfort her. you rub your hand along her back, her perfect, strong spine, her exacting, taut muscles, the grief wedged between them all.

‘i have to read dr. adebeyo’s new research article, and review for my septal myectomy on thursday, and —‘

‘you’re not at work right now, babe.’

‘i can’t think of anything else.’

you don’t often ask things of her, mostly because she offers so much so readily but also because asking is still hard for you, impossible some days. but you’re working on it and, besides, this is for her: ‘please, please take a break.’ what happened wasn’t your fault, you want to say, but it would be too much and you get the feeling that she still isn’t quite ready to hear it yet.

she leans into your side then, a little awkward but bone-weary and still, you can tell, in love. it’s scared you for so long, what it’s like to be adored by someone, to be valued and admired; it’s the most terrifying thing you’ve ever felt in your life, worse than your accident and the scars along your back and the hollow of your throat and all the surgeries to follow, worse than the horribly hopeful future spread out in front of you when you got accepted to work with jillian, worse than when you matched with your dream program. beatrice simply is — in love with you, loving you — and, finally, finally, you’re starting to trust it. 

‘you need a haircut,’ you say after a while — beatrice usually buzzes her hair every week, neatly and like clockwork, because ‘it’s easy, and, so i’ve been told at least, that it looks good,’ she’d told you, to which you’d rolled your eyes but had no argument against — and she snorts a laugh from where she’s pressed her face into your arm. it’s amused and exhausted, all at once. ‘i can do it, if you’d like.’

she waits for a moment, considers it. there’s the intimacy you’re familiar with: how warm her center is with your fingers curling inside, the way her mouth feels when you’re about to come. the way your body was able to feel during sex was the wildest, most heartbreaking discovery for you at first, but you settled into it with joy after a while. after chanel had very seriously given you a lecture your second week of college on how to be safe, it was fun and light and never so serious. with beatrice, it’s easy intimacy: you know that kissing her pulse point makes her arch her back and beg, that you know how to be kind, even when rough, every single time.

the intimacies of life, though, are where you sometimes both get stuck, the smallest parts of you that had hurt the most, that had had to heal so slowly, that you hold so tight to your chest. you hate playing all your cards, and you’re certain she does too: to be cared for can feel suffocating, in the wrong circumstances. to be cared for, though, you’ve discovered a few weeks ago when she brought you a heating pad and picked up the new pain medication your neurologist wanted you to try, in the right hands, in beatrice’s hands, is a miracle.

beatrice looks up at you, the question clear: you would do that for me?

you smile softly, lean down to kiss her like things are easy, like things are good. in so many ways, in the ways that sit in the marrow of your bones, they are.

she smiles back, finally, eyes brightening, unfurling after days trying to hide in the dark. ‘you think you can manage it?’

you nod. ‘you can trust me.’ it comes out so sincere, despite the fact that you add in a wink to try to dissipate it.

she straightens up, then, and squeezes your hand. ‘thank you, ava.’

you tell her, ‘of course,’ because, of course. 

‘you know,’ she says a few minutes later, sitting on a kitchen chair in the big primary bathroom, her shirt discarded in the hamper in your room, ‘i’ve never let anyone do this for me before.’

‘really?’

‘yes.’ she’s quiet for a moment, the buzz from her clippers, with the guard she’d precisely put on, the only noise as you run them along her scalp. ‘well, it’s fairly simple, for one.’

you hum. ‘and for two?’

she rolls her eyes, shrugs, blushes. you love her. ‘i didn’t…’ she pauses, tries again, ‘it’s close.’

‘yeah.’

she meets your eyes in the mirror, quiet. you know from what she’s told you about her past, when she was younger, when she knew who she was but was made to feel scared and so ashamed : the tears and the heartache and how much she thought her life wasn’t worth anything, the heaviness that sits around her like a soft cloak sometimes, even still. but, right now, you see her, and you care for her, exactly as she is. it’s different than anything you’ve ever had before, more than you could’ve convinced yourself to want: she’s going to stay. she wants to stay.

a smile grows on her face and it’s like the whole world lightens. ‘lilith thought i was having a breakdown, the first time.’

you laugh, go over the spiraling, small cowlick a few more times so it’s all even. ‘was she maybe a little bit right?’

she hums. ‘a little, perhaps. but i’d been curious for a long time, and i knew — it would feel right. i knew it.’

you resist the urge to kiss the top of her head, one of your favorite activities, only just avoiding it when you brush all the little hairs from her bare shoulders and some of them stick to your hand. ‘well, it suits you. i mean, i think anything would suit you, probably, but i get it.’

her smile softens, just for you. ‘plus, my mother almost fainted the first time i went home for the holidays. worth its weight in gold, honestly, for both me and lil.’

it’s rare beatrice mentions her parents, especially in a way that encourages a little laugh to bubble out of her chest. you grin. ‘i would’ve paid to see that.’

she fiddles with her watch band, one of her only nervous tells, and then sighs. ‘well, they’re visiting in a few weeks, after my boards.’

you take the guard off and tilt her head forward slightly so you can clean up her neckline. it gives her time to take a deep breath, and for you to calm your nerves. ‘oh. how do you feel about that?’

‘i mean, well, it’s fine. i suppose this is the sort of things parents would be proud of.’

‘any sane parent would be, like, bursting at the seams proud of you. i need you to know that.’

‘i —‘ she pauses, puzzles through it. ‘i do, for the most part. when they’re a continent away, it’s different. easier.’

‘for sure.’ you walk around in front of her and brush hair off of her forehead, the tip of her nose which she scrunches up. you’d told a patient the other day, scared and hurting, that dr. choi was the best, and, in all the ways that matter — her steady hands and kind hugs and the stretch of freckles across her cheeks — you had meant it. 

‘do you — would you like to meet them?’

you’d like to fucking punch them, but — ‘do you want me to meet them?’

‘yes,’ she says, certain and stoic. ‘you’re my partner, and we live together, and i’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.’

there’s such tenderness, such assuredness, the rain calming and her strong shoulders and the smile you feel on your face. it’s quiet, now, the clippers turned off and sitting on the counter. ‘we live together?’

‘that’s what you got from that?’

you shrug.

she takes your hand, laces your fingers together. ‘your lease is up next month, right?’

‘yeah.’

‘i can’t remember the last time you didn’t spend the night here, and i certainly can’t remember the last time i didn’t want you to.’

‘you’re full of big declarations today.’ it’s ineffective, because your laugh comes out as mostly a snot-filled snuffle when tears press at your eyes. you’ve never, really, had a home before.

beatrice just squeezes your hand. 

‘you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with me?’

‘ah, there we go.’

‘you do know that i’m, like, a whole lot.’

‘yes,’ she says. ‘and i love you.’

just like that. just like that, and it’s so easy. ‘i love you too.’ you wipe under your eyes, grimace for a moment when stray hairs get stuck on your cheeks, but you let out a big breath. ‘i can’t promise i won’t at least tell your parents off.’

‘if they say anything that warrants that, i’m fine with you causing a scene if you’d like. shannon loves to, so she’ll have fun.’

‘i think that might be too much of an opening for me, honestly. i’ve been waiting to yell at them since like, two hours after i met you.’

‘there’s no way you knew after two hours on my service.’

‘i could sense the, like, childhood trauma, gentle, brooding, gay vibes. i’m talented that way.’

she rolls her eyes but she’s clearly so fond of you, still holding your hand. ‘well, shall i shower, and then we can order in? catch up on the traitors, maybe?’

‘god, that is my love language. for real, bea.’

‘would you like to shower with me?’

‘okay, i take it back. that is my love language.’

she laughs, and stands, and you clean up and get in the shower and kiss her. you don’t do anything more, not tonight, not when things are still the raw end of a live nerve wire, hurt dissipating near the surface. you cuddle on the couch and steal bites of her biryani and she falls asleep, warm and soft, her head resting on your chest while you scratch her scalp. you live her, for real, you think, as you pause the episode before the roundtable because she hates missing it even if she pretends to not care — asking for a full recap the next day — and then rouse her as gently as you can and lead her by the hand to bed, to rest.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡 #surgeons au #idk! the INTIMACY! mary oliver was right! #the girls who get it get it (gender expansive)

[starrgaziinggg]

SMAU | UNDERCOVER JYP-U

chapter thirty eight -> swings and roundabouts (written 2.5k words)

directory | next part ->

The stress of exams was finally over. Classes were back to normal. You and Hyunjin couldn't be in a better place since the aftermath of the party. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

The only exception to this was the fact that you still didn't know who the evil mastermind behind the undercover JYP-U account was.

As much as you tried to push it out of your mind, it plagued your every thought. Who knew all these secrets about your friends? Why did they lie about Jeongin? How hadn't you been able to figure it out yet?

It was Jisung’s idea to get everybody together to discuss an action plan for figuring out the perpetrator and taking them down, which he had relayed to Chan. The first victim of the account was still as pissed off as everyone else, and although the repercussions for him hadn't been as severe as some others, he felt the exact same as you. You couldn't just sit back and let this account attempt to deface and destroy you all.

Chan had managed to snag a free room at the campus coffee shop, a secluded area, allowing you the privacy to talk about the subject without lingering people. You had to get away from the prying ears of your fellow university students. It was beyond time, you thought, for some action to finally happen against the account owner.

"So," Chan starts, student body president mode on. You sat to the left of Yuna and to the right of Hyunjin, listening to him intently. Everyone else in your friend group, bar Lia, was sat around too. "I've tried to trace the IP address - dead end. I've tried to contact the people who run the social media website and they've been useless."

"It's all dead ends," Jisung confirms solemnly. "Whoever it is knows what they're doing."

"So if we can't figure out who it is from a technological standpoint," Jeongin speaks up. "We're just gonna have to do it the old fashioned way."

You nod, shrugging your shoulders. "There's someone out there who knows all these secrets and we have no idea who they are. Doesn't that seem impossible?"

"Completely, but it's clearly possible," Minho sighs, giving you a half smile. "They knew about an injury I didn't speak a word of. Unless they got their binoculars out and watched me bandage up my leg through my window, I don't see how anyone could have figured that out."

Changbin snorts at that, quickly trying to compose himself. As much as Minho was trying to make the situation more light hearted, it was serious, and you weren't about to find out who was behind the account by cracking jokes.

"So let's just start naming people," Felix suggests, his eyebrows raised. "Go through anyone we suspect and cross them off the list if there's reason to."

There's a collective nod at that, everyone in agreement that this was the best way to go about things.

"What about Lia?" Jisung says, grabbing everyone's attention. He looks at everyone perplexed. "What? I'm serious, it could be her. We hardly know her."

Lia was the only person not in attendance at your meeting. You didn’t want her to bin off the extracurricular that gives her extra credit for her degree, so she’d given the meeting a miss. It might have been for the better anyway, since it was Jisung's first guess.

"Okay," Yuna sighs, her fingers pressing into her temples. "Let's think about this properly. Lia's a literal sweetheart, you really think she's behind this torturous account?"

"Sometimes people aren't what they seem," you shrug, a sad motion. You feel Hyunjin place a hand on your thigh and you smile up at him, glad to have the comfort. "And we've known her less time than anyone else at this school, so who knows what she could be capable of."

"That's true," Seungmin smiles at you sadly, looking as though it's paining him to talk about Lia like this. You knew the two of them were getting on well.

"But that's exactly the thing," Ryujin sighs exasperatedly. "We've known Lia for the shortest amount of time, but she's known us the same, so how would she ever know all these things about us?"

"That's true," Minho says, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "Perhaps Yuna was drunk one night and let her secret slip without realising, and she found the old lyrics to Ji's song in class and whatever else; how would she ever know the details to my injury? Or about Seungmin's dad, which nobody else knew about? And why would she lie about Jeongin cheating?"

There's a couple seconds of silence as everyone takes in Minho's words, a nod of agreement running through your group. The silence continues when a worker comes into the room you're all in to clear some of the used mugs away, a clear indication that you did not want this conversation to get into the wrong hands.

"Unless Lia is just some psycho who wanted to wreak havoc, there's no real reason for her to want to spill these secrets," Jeongin says quietly once the worker leaves, putting it plainly, and you nod at him.

"And, I think we're all kind of forgetting something," Felix says almost sheepishly, as if he doesn't want to bring it up.

"What?" Ryujin asks without thinking twice, everyone's heads turning to Felix. You catch the way Changbin almost glares at Felix, and you realise he might not be as okay about their secret as you initially thought. Although Changbin and Ryujin had ended, it was still pretty fresh.

"Lia wasn't there that night, you know," Felix says with a cringe, desperately hoping everyone knows what he's talking about. You all do, easily, so you speak up to avoid tension as Felix attempts to hide in his baggy hoodie, letting his blonde hair fall in his face.

"That's true - Lia was sick in her room," you agree, remembering the night of the party. "She looked awful the whole two days beforehand, too, so unless she managed to somehow run to the frat and back whilst having a 39.5°c fever, I think we can start to cross her off our list."

"I can vouch," Yuna says, nodding her head with wide eyes. "She was so unwell, there was no way she could have known about that unless either of you two had told her."

"We didn't tell anyone," Ryujin mumbles, and you can tell she does not want to hang onto this topic of conversation long.

"So if we've concluded it can't be Lia, all that does is give us a whole lot of nothing since we still don't know who it actually is," Jisung groans, frowning. "This is a living nightmare."

"You can say that again," Minho yawns, checking the time on his phone. "At least we know who it's not."

"Hold on," Ryujin speaks up, a thoughtful look etching her features. "We're forgetting the one person who hates all of us."

All eyes turn to her as she tilts her head, staring back at everyone. "Yeji."

The thought had crossed your mind a million times. You'd basically kicked Yeji out your friendship group after all the drama she had caused, so who else would hate you enough to spread gossip about you all?

"I did think that," Yuna says, nodding her head at Ryujin. "But I don't really know anymore. Firstly, she's been almost MIA this whole semester."

"That's true," Jeongin nods, adding onto what Yuna was saying. "She attends classes and then heaps of study sessions and from what I've seen hardly goes out anymore."

"I don't think she's that spiteful," Chae says, and although you know she's trying to defend her, you can't help but agree. "Yeah, she could be a real bitch, but would she really waste her time on something like this?"

"Jeongin said the same thing to me before," you agree, watching the younger boy nod his head at you. "I've suspected her the most out of anyone, but I think at this point it's a stretch. Unless she did some serious digging, she wouldn’t know any of this shit about us. And, if she's as up to her ears in work as Jeongin says she is, how the hell would she have the time?"

Minho nods, sitting back in his chair lazily. "If I know Yeji, and unfortunately I do, she wouldn't bother her rats ass about getting 'revenge' on us. She has much more important things going on in her life."

"I agree with that," Hyunjin speaks up. "I know the way her family works. She'll have a lot of responsibilities that literally make it impossible for her to have the time to do this, and on top of her coursework? Doubt it."

You don't think twice about Hyunjin's comment, knowing that he probably knows how her family works because they're just as high up on the social hierarchy as his.

"Could it just be some random we go to school with?" Chae asks, deep in thought. "Someone who doesn't like the fact that our group is well liked?"

"I thought about that too," Changbin says. "But there's no intent. It would be genuinely psychotic for someone who hardly knows us to want to ruin our lives like this."

Jeongin looks around the room then. “Who hasn’t had a secret revealed about them?”

“Me, Hyunjin, Chae, Changbin, Chan, Lia…I think that’s it,” you respond, met with a chorus of nodding heads.

“Save from Lia, we’ve all been friends for years,” Chan speaks up. “And the secrets have impacted us all. If the person behind the account was someone at this table it wouldn’t make any sense whatsoever. Why would one of us want to attempt to destroy our own friendship group?”

“Exactly,” Seungmin chimes in, shooting you a grin. “It can’t be one of us.”

"This is bullshit," Jisung interrupts, rubbing at his eyes. "We've traced the IP address and it lead us to fucking nothing, we've contacted the website to shut down the account and they've done Jack, the uni can't do anything about it - how the hell are we supposed to figure out who this bastard is?"

That kind of leaves everyone stumped, because god if any of you knew. Nobody says anything for a while, just sitting in relative silence, until Chan speaks up.

"Look, we can't give up. This fucker has caused us all too many problems this semester for us to just forget what they've done. Nobody should be able to get away with spreading personal information like that with no consequences, and I'll be damned if I just sit back and let it happen," he says, and you swear it's the angriest you've ever seen him.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Jeongin says, inciting a bit of hope within you. "You know that school gossip page? What if they're behind it? They just put out that weird statement, but what if they’re just trying to cover their tracks now that things are getting serious?”

Everyone kind of looks at each other then, as it's something none of the rest of you had considered.

"I mean it would make sense, considering they're always spreading the drama after the account posts. Plus, we don't know who runs that account either, so if we find out whose behind the gossip account it could lead us closer to whose behind the JYP-U undercover account," Seungmin agrees.

"Knowing who it's not gives us a good start, we just need to keep looking for clues and narrowing it down," Chae adds on, trying to boost the groups morale as usual. "Why don't you guys trace the IP of the gossip account and see what you find and we can go from there?"

Jisung nods, looking towards Changbin and Chan. "We can get on that tomorrow, let you know what we find?"

The guys nod in response, and it makes you feel a little better knowing you at least had something to go off of.

Chan sighs after that, placing his hands on the table. "It's getting late, and we're all clearly exhausted. I say we go home, get some rest, keep doing our best to figure this out and reconvene when someone's got something. Hopefully the gossip account gets us somewhere."

There's a collective agreement that runs through the group, and it doesn't take long for you all to get your shit together and go your separate ways.

Hyunjin walks you home, hanging back so it's just the two of you. He intertwines his hand with yours easily.

"Do you realistically think we will figure out who this psycho is?" He asks, his hand enclasped with yours. You give his hand a squeeze in response.

"I think we will. It's only a matter of time before the truth comes out," you reply hopefully, walking up to your dorm building. He turns to you with a sinister look.

"It's not you, is it?"

You push his arm, laughing in response. "No it's not me, you idiot. And it's not you?"

"Never me," he replies, which makes you laugh even more. He pulls you in tight for a hug as he always does when you inevitable have to depart, kissing your forehead before pulling away. "Get some sleep, yeah? Big date tomorrow and all that."

"Yeah," you respond quietly, trying to take your time basking in his presence, excited about this surprise date he’d decided you were going on. "I wish you'd just tell me what we're doing, you know. I hate surprises."

"A master never reveals his secrets," he says cheekily, giving you a chaste kiss before turning on his heel, waving at you when you use your key card to open the main door to your dorm building. Once you get inside your dorm, the girls are silent for once, and you can imagine they've all crashed as soon as they hit their beds.

You can't help feeling dejected. The only good thing to come out of that whole conversation was that everyone was on the same page about who the account wasn't run by, yet nobody had a solid idea of who it was. You hoped something would come out of finding who was behind that gossip page, but you weren't sure. It seemed like opening Pandora's box; a task that was so impossible you didn't even know how to begin.

But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind once again, doing your best to focus on preparing for the date you were more than excited to go on.

and we’re finally getting somewhere with figuring out who it is!! I’m estimating 10-15 chapters left, but god knows because I didn’t think this SMAU would be over 30 chaps nor last a year ahhahah

@cursed-mars-bars @imasimplol @hyunverse @aestaeticous @dorisnumber1fan @amnmich @detectivedoodle @amara-mars @end0rchans @raresevng @nhyunn @lixie-phoria @beomgyusonlywife @seolarpower @cuddlethebear @weird-bookworm @ceelestic @worcesheshestershiresauce @hyuneyeon @downbadreading @where-is-innie @weird0o0 @sxhxnax @moretinyideas @realrintaro @pinkcherryblossomangel @tesywesy @beaann @cutesince2000 @lynlyndoll @furryenthusiastbread @nyasstars @eyearebee @lynlyndoll @seungminindabuilding @chans1aptop @victio

#stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #jeongin #lee know #skz #felix lee #han jisung #stray kids jisung #stray kids minho #stray kids seungmin #stray kids imagine #stray kids felix #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfics #stray kids fanfic

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: The Tattoo Tryst

A Captain Swan One Shot

Summary: Prompted by the underground meaning behind a keyhole tattoo, which in some circles is an open use symbol for women who want to be sexually used by men. Emma accidentally reveals her tattoo on a crowded train car and… someone takes advantage. Much to her extreme pleasure.

A/N: So… I had this dream… this very naughty dream, so of course… it had to be fic’d. Some might consider this dub con, but both parties are operating with a respect and understanding of certain rules they both share, so… I don’t really see it that way. That said, if the summary above squicks you out, then this might not be the one shot for you. Smut responsibly.

Big shout out to @jrob64 for agreeing to be my last minute beta (ya snooze, you lose @kmomof4!) Okay, okay... much love and thanks to Krystal, too. She hopped on the doc just in time ;o) You're both amazing and the absolute best!

Rated: E / ~3200 words / Also available on ao3 / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

~/~

The train car was a sea of humanity by the time Emma was able to squeeze in. Normally, when she traveled home after an evening out with friends, this line was quiet with very few passengers. Tonight, however, thanks to some sporting event that annoyingly ended at the same time she and her friends had parted ways, her usually subdued commute was cramped, overheated, rowdy, and rambunctious.

Managing to slip back into an area where she wasn’t surrounded on all sides, Emma heaved a sigh and gathered her hair off her back and up into a high ponytail. The thin, short, halter style dress she’d chosen for late summer celebratory drinks would help keep her cool in the sweltering heat of the train car, but she knew it wouldn’t take long before she broke out in a sweat under her curtain of hair, so best to address that before it became so crowded she’d have trouble lifting her arms.

It was a good thing she did, too. At the next stop more people pushed their way in, jostling her and those around her as the new occupants jockeyed for position before the doors closed. A hand brushed the back of her dress, whispering over the swell of her ass, but Emma chalked it up as an accident. With the way the crush of passengers were all pressed tightly together and the rocking of the train making it hard to keep balance, there were bound to be a few unintentional touches here and there.

Curling her hand around the bar of the divider to her left, she braced herself as the train set off again, rolling her neck to ease some of the tension and causing the tip of her ponytail to brush across her exposed back. The man in front of her readjusted the bag he had slung over his shoulder, and she practically toppled into the person behind her when she tried to avoid getting smacked by the canvas satchel. A hand grabbed her hip, probably a reflex to help steady her, or to keep her from careening into them further. Again, she wasn’t going to fault the person for the touch.

That was until…

His thumb skimmed over the bare skin at her waist and the grip on her hip tightened as another hand began to trail up the side of her thigh towards her hemline. It took her a quick second to get over her shock - this was no accident - before she inhaled an indignant breath, ready to give this perv a piece of her mind and put him on blast in front of the entire train.

However, the scathing admonishment died on her tongue when a sultry voice gruffed low in her ear, “Intriguing tattoo you’ve got there, love.”

She nearly broke out into a cold sweat, even as heat rushed through her body. Her tattoo. The one she only displayed at a certain club; a certain club she only visited when she’d had enough of her high-stress, high-demand job and wanted to relinquish all control to someone else. The keyhole tattoo on her back was only visible in one specific cut of dress, like the one she had on tonight, which was why she’d been wearing her hair down. What were the odds that when she’d pulled it up, the person behind her would recognize it for what it was?

Rough, calloused fingertips traced over the ink as his other hand slipped beneath her skirt and palmed her ass cheek. “I’m not mistaking its meaning, am I?” he asked, though there was no question in his tone.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to return moisture to the dry, arid environment it had become, Emma whispered, “No.”

“No, what?” he murmured, his breath ghosting past the shell of her ear and making her shiver.

“No, sir.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, rubbing his palm against her cheek. “Good girl.” His fingers moved to the tattoo that sat below the keyhole and he inquired, “And this one? The swan? A symbolic representation of your safe word, I presume?”

“Yes,” she murmured, over her shoulder, getting a glimpse of him for the first time, which did nothing to even out or calm her breathing.

Shit. He was gorgeous.

“Yes… what?” he replied, his voice deep, rich, and a tad dangerous.

“Yes… sir.”

“Eyes front, love.”

She did as she was told and focused on keeping her breath even and her expression neutral. A shiver of wonder ran down her spine at the feel of his lips caressing her shoulder. His other hand slipped beneath her skirt and worked in tandem with the first, fondling her ass, mapping its curves and creases while toying with the edges of her underwear.

She gasped when the back of her dress flipped up, exposing her backside. His hand slid around to the front of her pelvis and wrapped itself around her mound, pulling her backward by her pussy. He fused her ass to his groin and began rutting into her, his firm erection becoming stiffer at the contact, and all she could do was sink her teeth into her bottom lip and try not to grind against him, even though every throbbing, aching, needy nerve ending in her body was screaming at her to.

She did not dare though. Who knew what sort of attention they’d already started to attract. Who could see them? Were people watching, getting turned on by the entertainment and committing it to memory so they could get off on it later? Would they try to take advantage of the situation, thinking they had a right to her body, too? Her handsome stranger was knowledgeable enough that she trusted he would honor and respect her safe word if she chose to apply it, but would he be able to thwart others who wouldn’t give a damn?

“We’re getting off at the next stop,” he rasped in her ear.

Relief flooded her, but it was quickly overrun by confusion when she opened her eyes and glanced up at the map.

“The next stop?” Emma questioned. There was nothing at the next stop. Due to renovations, that station was practically deserted. “Are you su--”

His hand tightened around her inner thigh, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh and making her eyes water. “Are you questioning me, Swan?” he growled.

“No, sir,” she exhaled breathlessly, and a flurry of butterfly wings took off in her stomach at the way he said her safeword.

As they approached the next station, her handsome stranger began to guide her forward, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck as he called out for people to make room. Once they’d exited onto the platform, he walked her past the main exit to a tunnel further down. She noted how he kept a vigilant eye out, making sure they weren’t followed off the train. Perhaps, he too had become concerned with the spectacle they were creating and the unwanted attention and trouble it could have garnered.

Now, completely alone and tucked away in the shadows of an alcove, he pressed her against the wall with her hands braced against the stuccoed surface and molded his body to hers.

“Before we continue,” he murmured between nips and kisses to her ear and neck, “anything you wish to tell me? Any particular words you wish to express?”

She knew he was asking for her consent to carry on, giving her a chance to use her safe word if she wasn’t completely on board with what might come next. The anticipation and excitement igniting her blood and throbbing between her legs made it impossible for her to say anything except a provocative and slightly coquettish, “No. I have nothing I wish to say… sir.”

With a hum of approval he feverishly yanked at the ties on the back of her dress, dropping the fabric of the halter top and exposing her chest. He wasted no time, filling each of his hands with her spilling breasts; groping, kneading, and skimming over them with touches that alternated from painfully rough to lovingly tender.

“Does your lover approve of you going out dressed this way?” he gruffed into her ear, the stubble along his jawline scratching against her cheek. “Like you want to be fucked? Like you want to be used? Would he get off on seeing you this way?”

“I don’t… h-have a lover,” she stuttered, her teeth sinking into her lip and muffling the groan attempting to escape her throat at the feel of him rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Sir.”

He grunted, an almost proprietary and possessive sort of sound that made her skin react in an eruption of raised flesh and forced her breath to catch.

Abandoning one of her breasts, his hand skimmed down her body and lifted her skirt. A series of sharp, forceful tugs caused the band of her underwear to snap and the torn pair of panties fell down one of her legs, resting around her ankle.

“Bloody hell, you’re fucking soaked,” he groaned into her skin, working a brand into the slope of her shoulder as his fingers slipped through her folds and coated themselves in her pooling arousal.

Emma’s nails scratched into the rough texture of the wall in front of her as one, then a second, then a third finger curled into her heat and the base of his hand applied exquisite pressure to the ache throbbing through her sex. His fingers worked quickly over her cunt and clit, bringing her to the brink from the way he pumped and curled within her, then removing them altogether, in order to flick and polish the pulsating, needy bud hooded within her folds. The mastery of his movements, combined with the utterly delightful filth he whispered and grunted into her ear had her on the edge of desperation.

“Please,” she whimpered, arching back into him so she could reach around and card her fingers through his hair.

“Please what, Swan?”

“Please,” she moaned, as his lips and tongue did delicious things to the pulse point on her neck.

“I wanna hear you say it, Swan,” he rasped commandingly into her skin, the rhythm of his fingers against her clit just shy of the tempo she desired. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

Her knees nearly gave out when he slapped her sex, sending a shock wave of pleasure through her body that culminated with a wanton cry from her lips.

“Shhh, love,” he admonished in her ear. “You wouldn’t want any disembarking passengers from the next train to get curious and find us in such a compromising position, now would you?”

“N-No, sir,” she panted. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“What do you want then, Swan?” he goaded, bringing her back to ecstasy’s edge.

“I-I want…” She fisted a handful of his hair and wet her lips as her hips rocked and swiveled in a vain attempt to gain the friction she needed. “I want to come!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes, please! Please let me come!”

She could feel his wicked grin when the corners of his lips lifted against her skin. “As you wish.”

Clamping a hand over her mouth, he mercilessly fucked her with his fingers until she screamed against the callouses on his palm. Tremors of pleasure coursed through her and colors erupted behind her eyelids.

She was still enjoying the aftershocks when he pulled his fingers from her core, and took his hand away from her mouth. Collapsing forward, she supported herself against the wall as he fumbled with his belt and zipper before shimmying his pants down to his knees

“I’m going to fuck you now, darling.” The low timbre and graveled quality in his voice made her shiver in anticipation. He tapped against the cleft of her ass, then teased the slick folds of her center with his cock as he inquired, “Unless there is a specific word you wish to say to me first, love?”

Pushing her ass back into his groin, she swiveled her hips and stated, “No, sir.”

“Thank fuck,” he growled before guiding his length into her wanton and greedy pussy.

The joint sound they made was utterly obscene, as were the ones that followed; especially when he lifted one of her legs, hooking the bend of her knee into the crook of his elbow so he could drive himself deeper into her depths.

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he chanted in staccatoed breaths. “So. Fucking. Soft… So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Emma lost herself in the slide of his cock and the way it filled her with each thrust. She wasn’t sure how long he fucked into her before the tell-tale tightening of another impending release began to build, but she wasn’t going to be left at his mercy again. With one hand still braced against the wall, she reached down and toyed with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers and sending zips of pleasure down to her clit. Once she’d worked them back into taut peaks, she reached between her legs and began to furiously rub at the throbbing nub.

“That’s it, Swan,” he praised, wrapping her ponytail around his hand and pulling her head backward. “Touch yourself, love. Make yourself come. I want to feel you come around my cock.”

And feel it he must have. No sooner had her second orgasm ripped through her than she felt his rhythm falter as guttural sounds and groanings deeper than words reverberated through the alcove.

They both collapsed into the wall in front of her, though he was careful to make sure he wasn’t crushing her. A long minute passed as they worked to stabilize their breathing, then another grunt fell from her handsome stranger’s lips as he slipped out of her and a wash of warmth began to seep down her thighs.

Lowering her leg back down, he gently placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder and panted, “That was…”

“A one time thing.”

With their tryst at an end, Emma went back to her usual, assertive self, and took back control. Stepping away from the handsome stranger, she proceeded to set herself to rights.

After tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up, he offered her an endearingly lop-sided smile. “Here, love. Allow me to help you with that.”

She rebuffed his attempt to help her tie her top back into place with a curt, “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

Clearly taken aback by her attitude and tone, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear and said, “Apologies, love, but have I… have I done something to vex you?” Something flashed in his eyes and his tone practically dripped with concern and distress as he continued, “I thought… you never used your safe word, so I… bloody hell, please tell me you wanted this, too.”

“Of course I did,” she assured him, not wishing him to panic or berate himself after such an amazing experience. Placing a calming hand on his chest, she smiled up at him. “Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I…” Her mind went blank. This was the first time she was really getting a good look at him and those piercing blue eyes of his were making it difficult for her to concentrate.

One of his brows rose and a smirk played at the corner of his mouth, causing her eyes to drift down and stare at his pinked lips in fascination, wondering what they’d feel like pressed against her own… or other places.

Focus, Emma!

“Look,” she said, clearing her throat and dropping her gaze as she smoothed out her dress. “We both got what we wanted and it’s over now, so let’s not pretend there’s gonna be anything more between us.”

“There could be,” he said, closing the space between them so he could slip a finger beneath her chin and bring her face up towards his. “If you wanted.”

Again, it took her a minute before she remembered. “Well, I don’t.” Sidestepping him, she began searching the ground around them and wondered aloud, “Where did my underwear go?”

The man joined in the search then walked a few steps away, towards a darker part of the tunnel, before reaching down and plucking her panties off the ground.

Swinging them around his finger by the one strap that was not snapped, he smirked and said, “I have half a mind to hold onto these as a memento of our time together.”

When he held them out for her she flicked her gaze up and gave him a smirk of her own. “Keep them.” Trying to shrug off the fresh swell of arousal coursing its way through her bloodstream, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and quipped, “They’re of no use to me now, anyway.”

With one last look around to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind, she started to turn for the opening of the alcove when his words stalled her departure.

“So, that’s it then? We’re to be two ships merely passing in the night?”

Heart hammering away in her chest, she took a calming breath before replying, “We’ve passed closely enough, don’t you think?”

This time, before she could make another attempt to leave, the man reached out and gently wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Tell me, please,” he said with an earnestness that almost had her losing her resolve. “Just who are you, Swan?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She meant to apply the same quipping sass she had before, but the words came out more breathless than she had intended.

“Aye. Perhaps I would,” he murmured, stepping further into her personal space. “Won’t you even tell me your name?”

Her gaze flicked down to his hand then back up to his eyes. His too blue eyes beneath pleading brows.

“Swan,” she told him, and his face fell.

Releasing her, he took several steps back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with disappointment. “As you wish, then.”

“No,” she said on an amused breath before clarifying. “That’s my name. Swan. Well… part of it anyway.”

His brows jumped up his forehead, then a delighted smile spread across his face before he schooled his features and brushed his thumb against the corner of his mouth.

“And the rest of it?” he asked, a bit suavely as he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist.

Running her hands up his chest - his firm, hard-planed chest with a dusting of hair, evident by the wisps peeking out from his unbuttoned collar - she alluringly stated, “That’s for me to know… and, if you’re really serious about seeing me again, you to find out.”

His arms tightened, bringing her flush against him. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” she replied coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him as he towered over her, his lips only a hair’s breadth from hers as he murmured, “Something you’ll come to learn about me, Swan… I do so love a challenge.”

The End.

(For real, K. The. End.)

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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#csff #cs ff #csfic #cs fic #cs au #cs smut #captain swan #naughty captain swan #the tattoo tryst #words by hollye

[alisonfelixwrites]

Informed consent: chapter 3

Word count: 14,180

Mia found herself hunched over her desk early morning on Friday. After her first tutoring session the previous day, she was set on making the best out of neuropsychology and she was revising last week’s lesson in order to be able to catch up today.

A soft knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts and she turned around, taking her glasses off of the bridge of her nose, “Come in.”

She knew it was going to be Hazel, so the sight of her friend in her night robe and her hair all messy didn’t exactly surprise her. Hazel pushed open the door softly, her hands full with a cup of coffee and a plate filled with fruit and toast. Mia’s heart about grew twice its size when she gasped, “Oh my god, Hazel!”

“Shh, not too loud, it’s early.” Hazel croaked as she padded over to Mia’s desk to put everything down. Mia stared widely at the food and coffee on the table, on top of some of her books and notes and she pressed her hand to her chest, “This is so nice, thank you so much.”

“Ah,” Hazel waved it away, “don’t worry about it. You’ve been having a tough week.” She leaned over Mia to look at her notes, scrunching up her nose, “Neuropsychology again?”

“Yeah.” Mia nodded, taking the clip out of her messy hair before she was about to braid it later for class, “I’m trying to be up to date for class today.”

Hazel nodded, “Hmm. What time will you be home tonight? Do you want to go out maybe?”

“Oh.” Mia immediately felt herself blushing a little bit, wondering if she’d have to come up with an excuse as to why she’d rather stay home. She awkwardly scratched behind her neck, “I-I don’t know.”

Hazel softly smiled, “You don’t have to. ‘S just a suggestion. Once again, I’d think you’d really like my friends. And actually… I was thinking of inviting them over here tonight for pre-drinks.”

“Here?” Mia asked with raised brows, “Oh my god, I haven’t cleaned all week, you can’t invite people over to a house this messy.”

Hazel chuckled, “Mia, we’re uni students. It’s pretty normal to be living in a mess and I’m sure our apartment’s still cleaner than all of theirs combined.”

“Still…” Mia found herself immediately nervous about the prospect of people in her home. It took a while for the apartment to feel like home, and she had to give the most credit to Hazel for making her comfortable here. Her chaotic, homely clutter just warmed up the entire apartment.

But having strangers over was one hurdle Mia felt anxious about, and them being in her personal space was another. She couldn’t just leave if she felt like it was too much, she’d have to wait it out. Also, she couldn’t hide in her room and there was nowhere to go. The library closed at eight and she was sure pre-drinks didn’t end before that hour.

“Look, we can go to a bar if it makes you more comfortable. It’s only like four people but Cass and Lynn are fighting with their third roommate and she kind of kicked them out of the apartment – which is crazy – and Renan lives in a shoebox and has only two chairs.” Hazel chuckled.

Mia’s lips slightly curled up at the words Hazel chose and she nibbled her lip in thought, “I-I guess. I don’t want to kick you out of your own apartment, you have a say in here too. I-I’ll try to be social but it’s really hard for me.” She spoke in a small voice before tapping her fingers on her forehead, “I might have some medicine left for my anxiety.”

“What?” Hazel frowned immediately, “Mia, no, no, no. I don’t want you to have to take pills in order to feel comfortable. Look, just think about it today and you can let me know around four, good? See how you feel about it during the day.”

Mia felt a headache coming up just at the thought of tonight, but forced a smile and nodded, “I will. Thanks again for the food, Hazel. It’s really nice of you to do that.”

“You do it for me all the time, Mia.” Her friend laughed in return, eyes briefly glancing at Mia's phone when it buzzed on the desk with a message. Hazel didn’t mean to, but she saw the name coming up on the screen and instantly frowned, “H. Styles?”

Mia quickly reached for her phone, opening it up to see the message from Harry as Hazel stared at her with wide eyes, “As in Harry Styles?”

“Yes. He’s one of my therapy students.” Mia explained, frowning a little at her screen when she saw that Harry sent her a reminder for today’s session.

Message to: H. Styles

Thank you for the reminder, I hadn’t forgotten :)

She locked her phone and put it back down before carefully glancing up at Hazel, “You know him?”

Hazel’s shocked expression gave it all away and she huffed out again, “Yeah, of course. He’s in some of my classes. Oh fuck, the broken bookcase, of course!” She spoke more to herself as if it suddenly all made sense.

“Hazel.” Mia scolded slightly, “It’s too early for cursing.”

Hazel put her hands on her hips and looked at Mia, “Wait, don’t tell me he’s the dickhead who made you cry this week.”

“Oh.” Mia chuckled softly, “He was, yeah. B-But I saw him yesterday during lunch and we actually redid Tuesday’s session and he was polite. Do you know him well?”

Hazel shrugged, “No, not at all. I’ve never spoken to him. He’s always late and sits in the back.. He always hangs out with the second years and does most classes with them too so I don’t see him that often, to be honest.”

Mia’s attention was back on her phone when it buzzed again.

Message from: H. Styles

Just checking :). Good morning, by the way. Also, I named you Dr. Phil in my phone.

Mia burst out into a cackle at that, quickly shutting up when she realised how ridiculous it sounded and she bit her lip before putting her phone down again. Hazel had her brow up as she stared at her, “Something funny?”

“H-He just, uh – “ Mia stuttered with a flush to her cheeks, “he said something funny, yes.”

“Mia.” Hazel narrowed her eyes and Mia blushed harder before sighing out with slumped shoulders, “He’s so beautiful!”

“Oh my god!” Hazel exclaimed with a wide grin, “You have a crush on him!”

Mia blushed even deeper and hastily took a sip of scorching hot coffee in an attempt to hide her face, “I do not.” She spoke with a wince, her tongue burned on the coffee but it was worth it as she just wanted to hide away from Hazel’s curious eyes, “Yes, you do! How cute! I mean, I have to admit he’s hot. I didn’t think he’d be your type though. Who was the guy you’re practically married to already?”

“Daniel? Oh, yeah, he’s completely different.” Mia shrugged, her stomach dropping a little when she remembered the deal her parents had made at a young age for her to marry Daniel. 

Hazel sat down on the edge of Mia’s bed, “So what actually happens when you get a boyfriend and don’t want to date that Daniel guy anymore?”

Mia puckered her lips in thought, “I suppose I’ve never really thought of that. Why are you assuming I’d have a boyfriend? You’re not talking about Harry, right?”

“Who knows.” She smirked and Mia blushed deeper before shaking her head, “No, you’re right. I’m not his type.”

Hazel tilted her head to the side, “I never said that, I said I didn’t think he was your type.”

“I don’t know what my type is.” Mia shrugged and Hazel exhaled a laugh, “Right, but I just wouldn’t have assumed a guy with tattoos all over his body would do it for you.”

“All over his body?” Mia gasped and Hazel threw her head back in a laugh, “Oh my god, fun! We can finally talk about our crushes together!”

Mia huffed humorlessly, “Nothing to talk about. He’s just a client and we’re doing eight sessions.”

“…and you’re texting.”

“We’re not! Some of them have my number in case they need to reschedule.” Mia defended and Hazel smiled suspiciously, “Some of them? How many?”

Mia blushed deeper and Hazel smiled wider until Mia rolled her eyes, “Fine, just him. He asked, said he hardly checks his emails!”

“That’s such bullshit!” Hazel laughed, “He just wanted your number, Mia!” She snatched Mia’s phone from the table and smiled at the screen, “He texted you good morning. That’s not just about rescheduling.”

“Give me that.” Mia mumbled, grabbing her phone again before shaking her head, “It’s nothing, I swear.”

“Alright.” Hazel grinned, 

Mia finished revising for neuropsychology while enjoying the breakfast that Hazel had brought her. Her eyes scanned her notes, brain fresh and awake this early in the morning. She was always more productive in the mornings, Mia had noticed, so she usually used that time to study or get stuff done for school before her fatigue or anxiety kicked in and the letters floated together.

Dressed in winter attire, she exited the apartment about an hour later. Hazel said goodbye to her from the couch, deciding to skip out on her classes today and lounge around the apartment. Mia almost felt anxious in her place, skipping a class sounded horrifying to her. She knew teachers didn’t really mind and it was the student’s own responsibility to make sure they were up to date with everything and met their deadlines, but still… Mia could never be that chill.

She nearly slipped on some ice when her phone buzzed on the way, and she pulled it out to reveal another message from Harry even if she never answered the previous one.

Message from: H. Styles

Interesting classes today?

Mia bit her lip, wondering if he truly did ask for her number for the schedule or if he maybe… liked her a little bit? The idea on its own was stupid. Someone like him could never like someone like her. He was so free-spirited and bold and blunt, while she was so shy and timid and hardly dared looking him in the eye. He was two years older than her too, which felt like a decade away in how mature they were.

But then again, why would he ask her such a silly, non-important question at such a random time in the day? She nibbled her lip and typed back.

Message to: H. Styles

It’s alright. One now and then two this afternoon. How about you?

She hesitated before typing the last bit, opening up the conversation. She had never really texted with a boy, no one had ever asked her for her number. Mia felt like if she went through her contact list, the information there was pretty sparse on itself, let alone any information on boys. 

But if that had been Harry’s intention, he had been smooth about it. Mia had no idea he intended to ask her for her number.

A few buildings away, Harry was seated in class in the back row with a huge thermos of coffee in front of him. Even that couldn’t help him staying awake on a Friday morning. What could help him stay awake, was receiving a message from Mia.

Harry wasn’t sure what it was, why she was interesting to him. She was pretty, for sure, but she was someone who flew under the radar and who he’d have never noticed in any other occasion besides the forced therapy the school made him do.

He still felt bad about snapping at her during that first session. He had seen it in her eyes that it had hurt her and had taken her aback, but he was too caught up in his frustration and rage at that point to really care. It only sunk in when he saw her a few days later, sitting on her own at the trash table and nibbling on some carrots.

She was jumpy and shy and blushy, which Harry just found completely endearing. He had to admit that he liked talking to her about school, about psychology and philosophy, about their different views. They were nice discussions. Until she started about the reason he had to get therapy in the first place, his public slip-up in the library.

Harry still didn’t understand why he was being punished for something like that. Everyone in school had sex in the public areas, he was just the one being caught. And not even them together, just him. Lexie had gotten away before the guard caught them and he wasn’t about to rat her out, but it did mean that the entire 4K fine the school made him pay, was on his shoulders.

He had told her about it, and not once had she suggested paying for half of it. That he could do, pay the two thousand dollars to get the school off his back, but four thousand was too much. His parents would know and that’d be a whole other thing. They were nice and open-minded, but perhaps this was pushing it.

He had dreaded the therapy sessions but somehow hoped he’d end up with some cool, open-minded therapist who would let him off the hook and they’d use the time to just chat about random stuff. Instead, he had been sitting in that office waiting for her and he saw a timid young girl with her hands full and her eyes bulging while staring at him.

Mia honestly looked like she could be blown away with a little puff of air coming from Harry’s mouth.

The second time seeing her, he felt for her. She was clearly overworked and he remembered his own early university days where he struggled to keep up with it all. He didn’t think she did the therapy sessions for extra credit, he just assumed she was some rich girl who had time to spare and decided to volunteer so she could judge about other’s mistakes.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

And now he found himself at a point where he even…. maybe…. Looked forward a little bit to seeing her.

Message to: Dr. Phil

I’m in class right now and then I’m headed home again until the therapy session. What time again?

Message from: Dr. Phil

You’re the first one on the schedule :) So four if that’s alright. That way you have most of your evening still, it’s Friday night after all.

Harry huffed out a chuckle and cleared his throat, trying to mask his laughter from the professor up front who raised a brow at him before continuing. He was in a class that he had taken last year already and even if he had failed it – twice – he felt like he almost knew it by heart and this was a complete waste of time.

Message to: Dr. Phil

That’s considerate, thank you :). And it is a Friday indeed, any plans tonight?

His leg bobbed nervously as he waited for her response, which took a little while. He assumed she had still been walking to campus, which also meant she didn’t live in the student housing on campus. Unlike him.

Message from: Dr. Phil

Not really. I think my roommate is going to invite some people. You?

Message to: Dr. Phil

I usually go out on a Friday sooo…

Harry didn’t know why he typed that and he groaned under his breath and rolled his eyes at himself, staring at the sent message. It could mean a lot of things and he wasn’t sure how Mia was going to take it.

I usually go out on a Friday sooo… I’ll end up in someone’s bed tonight.

I usually go out on a Friday sooo… it’s the same this week and I’m going to get blind drunk with my idiot roommates.

I usually go out on a Friday sooo… if you’d like to join?

He locked his phone and put it down, not feeling better about himself when Mia didn’t answer for at least an hour. Deep down he knew she was in class and that she had to be paying attention. She didn’t seem like the type to be on her phone during class, but still – she left him hanging after sending such a stupid text.

Stupid enough that he did something even more stupid, which was sending another one an hour later after lack of response.

Message to: Dr. Phil

Sorry, that sounded weird. I meant that I’m also going out tonight, as I do most Fridays.

Harry dropped his head on the table momentarily, wanting to pull his own brains out until the teacher scolded him again and gave him a warning. He pressed his lips together and placed his phone upside down, trying to pay attention and actually take notes.

The efforts Mia put in for school were very different from Harry, but he had to admit it was inspiring. 

All was forgotten though when his phone buzzed.

Message from: Dr. Phil

Hahah, yes, that’s what I assumed!! Sounds fun. Sorry I didn’t respond, neuropsychology is no joke.

He grinned at the message, his heart lighter than before and the nerves in his tummy had settled down. 

It was hours later – hours that Harry had spent playing video games with his roommates instead of doing school work – that he went back into campus to meet up with Mia. His mates had nagged him for it a little as they wanted to get their Friday drink in early – as early as one in the afternoon.

Harry declined every beverage pushed his way, claiming he had responsibilities at four and that he’d join them afterwards. They asked him to skip the session, but he had said no.

So he was braving the cold winter weather while walking up to the psychology building, the North building, where he took the stairs up to the fourth floor. His teeth were chattering slightly from the biting November cold which wasn’t being very kind on England this year.

“Hi,” He spoke to the woman who sat at reception there, “I have a meeting with Mia?”

She narrowed her eyes at her computer screen and clicked a few times, “Right, she rescheduled some sessions. She’s in room number two.”

Harry raised his brows, “She’s already here? I thought I was early.”

“Mia’s always early.” The woman chuckled simply yet Harry hardly heard her, a skip in his step as he made his way to room number two, near bursting through the door just to see Mia.

She looked over her shoulder when the door opened, seeing Harry entering with his thick winter coat on as she had just shrugged hers off. 

Harry could already tell she had a guilty look on her face from sending him walking through this weather for a rescheduled session, but he offered her a smile to ease her nerves, “Hey.”

“Hi.” She breathed as he unzipped his coat. Mia shifted on her seat, “I’m sorry that you had to come all the way here through this rain.” She apologised for something she had no control over and Harry hung up his coat besides hers, “No problem. I live on campus in the student housing so ‘m not far.”

“Oh.” She nodded, following his silhouette as he moved through the room to sit down on the other couch opposite her. He immediately looked more relaxed than earlier this week, when he avoided her stare and constantly poked his fingers into the rip of the seat. Whereas now, his eyes were curiously on her and on her only.

Mia fiddled with her fingers and reached for her cup of tea, “Do you want some tea? To warm up?”

Harry rubbed his hands together and nodded, “Actually, yeah. Sounds good. Is there a vending machine in this building?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Mia smiled, getting up to reach one of the cupboards that lined the side of the little room, opening it up to pull out a mug, “This used to be a kitchen on this floor. And I’ve got a thermos and some tea bags.”

Harry huffed out a chuckle, “You just carry that around in your bag?”

Mia blushed a little as she sat back down and put the mug down on the table between them before reaching for her thermos, “I do. The tea here doesn’t taste that good, I prefer to bring my own.” She kept her eyes on the movement of her hand as she carefully poured the hot water into the mug with her lip between her teeth.

Harry used the opportunity to scan her, noticing the same braid in her hair as the other two times he had seen her. She wore a dark green knitted jumper with some flowers embroidered on it, a little oversized on her but it looked cosy. The black flares on her legs made her look taller, as did the blocked heel on the boots she wore. 

“Here you go.” She smiled shyly when putting the teabag in his mug. Harry shot her a toothy grin, “Thank you.”

His lips twitched up into a wider smile when he saw her pulling out his old notebook and the pink pen. He had completely forgotten to get it back yesterday when their session ended rather abruptly when they had to get to their next class all of a sudden, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t use the notebook much anymore and they were mostly his old notes. 

“I meant to give this back.” Mia started as if reading his mind. She had felt terrible about taking his personal belongings home with her, uncertain if Harry would get angry at her or not for doing so. She had carefully placed the notebook and the pen on her bedside table to make sure nothing happened to it, and that she could give it back today.

Harry waved it away and shook his head, “Keep it. I don’t use it anymore and I think it’s a handy little thing for you to keep around and… write in.”

Mia tilted her head to the side, “Write in?”

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, “Y’know, random thoughts. Or just notes for school, whatever.”

She practically bounced in her chair from beaming so much before she nodded, “Okay. Thank you so much, Harry.”

He nodded back with a smile and Mia got more comfortable on the chair, going as far as tucking her leg underneath her. A clear sign of her comfort here, Harry noticed. She would’ve never done that during their first session. She tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear out of habit and nibbled her lip, “So, how did you feel after yesterday’s session?”

Mia meant it professionally, asking him how he had experienced going to therapy for the first time even if it was mandated and with another student. But she meant how he felt about talking about the topic of him having sex in the library. His mind, though, went somewhere completely else.

Because after yesterday’s session, he felt confused. Confused, frustrated, annoyed. All with himself. Confused because of how he couldn’t get her out of his mind even for a second, how she occupied every little bit of his brain for at least twenty-four hours now. Frustrated and annoyed because he wanted to hold her hand, he wanted to hold her entirely and he wanted to kiss her. Actually, he wanted to do many, many more unspeakable things to her that he was certain Mia’s mind was much too pure for.

That was the vibe she gave off, purity. Like something that had never been broken or even scratched before. She was fragile but protected. She didn’t seem like she had ever felt a little nudge before in her life to bring her out of balance. 

“Good. Fine.” He settled on answering and she nodded, “Okay, that’s good. So today, I’d like to go more in depth about what happened prior to…” She uncomfortably cleared her throat, “having intercourse in the library. Like what led up to it.” Mia explained.

Harry nodded and she continued, “Then for the next session, I’d like to take you to the actual library.”

His brows shot up, “To the library? Like some sort of exposure therapy?”

“Exactly.” Mia nodded, “I get the feeling you’re still rather closed off about the entire topic, so it might be helpful.” She offered. Harry sighed out and shrugged, “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think we should do.”

Mia felt relieved at Harry’s quick giving into her idea. She had never done it before, taking a student out of this environment to head to the place where their incident happened that caused them to end up in therapy. But Harry wasn’t all that talkative and chatty, so she had to change directions here and branch out.

“But I have a proposition too.” Harry interrupted her thought process and held up his finger as Mia looked at him, “You do?” She asked unsurely. He smiled softly and nodded, “I do. Whenever I’m bored I get to ask you a question.”

Mia frowned, “A question?”

“Mhm.” Harry nodded, “I get to ask you a question and we talk about that for a bit. Y’know, to break my thoughts and change it up a little bit. I won’t hold out for eight sessions talking about my sex life.”

Mia blushed a little at his blunt words and slowly nodded, “Okay.” She hadn’t assumed Harry to immediately want to ask his questions. She imagined it was just something he said now, but by the time they were deep in conversation about his reason for being here, he’d forget about it and never actually ask her a question.

But Mia thought wrong. By the glint in Harry’s eyes, she could already tell it was going to be a mischievous question. He tapped his ringed fingers together, dressed in another black large jumper that swallowed him whole but also made him look very cuddly – she had a hard time focussing on his words as she just wanted him to sit still so she could stare at him. His hands or his lips specifically.

Mia prepared herself for a question she’d have to decline. It’d be something about her dating life, or her – non-existent – sexual escapades. She’d have to turn down his question and Harry would get angry and storm out again and they’d be back to square one.

“What’s your earliest memory?” Harry questioned, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair as he got comfortable. His free hand reached for his tea and he blew a little bit of air into the hot liquid before taking a careful sip.

Mia leaned back into the chair and puckered her lips, “My earliest memory… I mean – I suppose…” She started, racking her brain and nibbling her lip – also subconsciously bringing Harry’s pink sparkly pen to her mouth to push against her bottom lip in thought, “I think when I was about five, my mother started teaching me French.”

Harry frowned at Mia’s answer, “Your earliest memory is of you learning something?”

“Yes.” She timidly answered, “Is that wrong?”

Harry took a breath and shook his head, “No, no, it’s not wrong. There’s no right or wrong answer for this question, I think.”

Mia hesitated for a moment before drawing a breath, “So what’s yours?”

“My first memory?”

“Mhm.” She nodded and Harry brought both hands behind his neck in a stretch, sighing out while leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Mia nearly didn’t care about his answer anymore. All she could focus on were his bulging biceps, the way his jumper rid up slightly with the raise of his arms and how she inappropriately glanced down to see a thin strip of pale skin showing up above the waistband of his boxers.

Hazel had been right, Harry seemingly was covered in tattoos and Mia had only seen scraps of him. She almost began hoping she put on the heating in the room too hot so he’d have to take that jumper off and she could take a look at his arms.

“Hello? Earth to Mia?” Harry snapped her out her thoughts and Mia parted her lips to apologise, a deep flush rising up her neck but Harry chuckled, “Y’really need to work on that, love. Dr. Phil never zones out like that.” He teased.

She chuckled softly under her breath and nibbled her lip, “Sorry, I was lost in thought. W-What did you say?”

There was a grin on Harry’s lips, lopsided, toothy, showing off a dimple and Mia swooned like no one else. There was a tinge of smugness in the smile too, as if he knew very well what he was doing. And Harry did know what he was doing. Not that he did it on purpose, he was just being himself, but he caught Mia staring at him without blinking every few minutes. She zoned out, entranced by him and taking in every little detail and inch of skin he gave her.

She looked like a lost puppy and Harry wanted to moan at her innocent, round eyes, slightly parted pink lips and lightly flushed cheeks. She was just so cute.

“I said my earliest memory is probably of me and my dad playing catch in the yard.” He repeated for Mia and she offered him a small smile while nodding, “That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Harry breathed with a nod, “It is.”

They were left in a little bit of silence before Mia drew a breath, “So back to our original topic…”

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes at the deep dive into his personal life once more, somehow hoping he had distracted Mia enough to carry on a normal conversation instead of it being all about him, but he wasn’t that lucky. 

“You mentioned you live on campus with roommates?” Mia asked. Harry nodded, “Yeah, I live in the student housing with two roommates. We each have our own small rooms and then a shared living space, kitchen and bathroom. Across the hall are two more of my friends. Well, I met them due to being paired up here in student housing. I didn’t know any of them before coming here.” Harry explained.

Mia wrote some things down in Harry’s notebook and nodded, “Can you tell me their names? Might be easier.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, “I live with Liam and Niall. Louis and Zayn are across the hall.”

“That sounds like fun, having your friends so close by.”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, it’s alright. It can get a bit busy sometimes and it gets hard to say no to certain things. Our rooms are really tiny so I don’t spend much time there except for sleeping and sometimes studying, but I can hardly fit my legs under the desk so I try to do that at the kitchen table when they’re in class.”

Mia frowned a little, realising how hard it had to be to not really have a space for yourself. Her apartment was shared, but her room was of a decent size and she had never felt smothered in those four walls. She scribbled down some more stuff, “Have you ever tried going to the library to study? I do it all the time, I kind of have my set seat there that I know I like. It gets just enough light but the sun is never in my eyes, and I have a distant view of campus which means I’m not too distracted but there’s some movement around. It’s not close to the toilets so not too many people have to pass me by the entire time.” She listed in a ramble, thinking of her favourite place on campus. The library calmed her down so much.

Harry raised his brows and huffed out a snicker, “Right. I use the library for other activities.” He decided to make fun of himself and Mia stared at him in shock as she turned bright red again, “Oh my god, I-I’m sorry! I hadn’t even… oh.” She palmed her forehead, realising her mistake while Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shaking his head, “It’s okay.”

Mia tried to come to terms with her embarrassment, taking a few more sips of tea while Harry did the same. She noticed that the moment he finished his cup, his hand blindly reached into his bag and he pulled out that same packet of gum. Popping one out, he flicked his eyes up to her, “Gum?”

“No, thank you.” Mia exhaled, mentally preparing herself to be met with the view again of Harry chewing on gum as if time worked in slow motion. She had to be strong.

“So, anyway,” She cleared her throat, “that’s kind of what I wanted to get to, I suppose. If you live on campus, why didn’t you just bring the girl to your dorm?”

She could hear the sound of Harry’s jaws crunching the fresh piece of gum and dared lifting her eyes, seeing him staring right at her with a thoughtful look. His gaze was intense and she knew he’d notice if she dropped her eyes just a sliver to stare at the way his jaws moved, so she swallowed and kept staring into his green eyes.

Harry eventually shrugged, putting Mia out of her misery by breaking the eye contact and she felt like she could breathe again. These sessions were tiring for her when the student was so attractive she could hardly focus.

“Well, like I said, these rooms are tiny. I need… space.” He used his hands in a circular motion as if to put more force behind his words, “Space to move, y’know? In the dorms we have a single bed, it’s not easy to manoeuvre. And besides that, there’s not much privacy. I can hear Niall snoring at night, I can hear the bedsprings when Liam rolls over…” He listed.

Mia tried to imagine what that was like and took more notes, bringing Harry’s pen back to her lip without thought as she glanced over the words she wrote down. Harry’s eyes zeroed in on the contact of his pen against her plump pink lip and he exhaled shakily before crossing his legs over one another.

“So is privacy important to you, then?”

Harry tilted his head to the side, “In general?”

Mia paused and took a breath, “O-Or when… you know… doing stuff.”

“Doing stuff?” He feigned confusion, wanting her to say it. Mia took another breath and avoided eye contact, “W-When having… uh – intercourse.”

“Intercourse.” Harry repeated in a hushed huff, shaking his head to himself with a small smile, “When having sex?” He boldly spoke and Mia held her breath when nodding, “Yes.”

Harry couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his lips, “Mia…” He tutted, not missing the way her shoulders tensed when he murmured her name, “you can say it, you know?”

She frowned a little and shrugged, “I know. Can you please answer the question?”

He smirked wider. He knew it was a dick move, but he suspected she was a virgin ever since meeting her for the first time. Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, she was still eighteen after all. He didn’t have his first time until shortly before his nineteenth birthday either, that wasn’t the point. The point was that she was trying to hide the fact she was a virgin, and it was sort of amusing to him that she had to listen to him talking about having sex in a public library while she had no experience whatsoever.

“I’ll answer when you say it.”

Mia shot him a deadpanned look, “Harry…” She pleaded, and this time it was Harry’s turn to feel his tummy clenching together at the sound of his name falling from her lips. If he closed her eyes, he could imagine her whining it like that in her soft voice while sitting on his lap with her top off. 

This was dangerous, dangerous territory. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, there was a thin line between his teasing and her feeling put on the spot, but he was exploring that line right now. He cleared his throat to get the dirty visual out of his brain, but he couldn’t help himself but wonder what she looked like underneath those warm clothes.

“Go on.” He pushed, deciding it was one last time and if she declined right now, he’d leave it at that. He could already see her pressing her lips together, her cheeks reddening and her eyes looking anywhere besides at him. The pen was tightly clenched between her fingers and she shifted on the couch – tucking her other leg underneath her this time – before inhaling a shaky breath, “Fine. When having s-sex.”

His brows raised up, feeling completely impressed with her. Mia tried to look at him sternly, like it wasn’t the first time she had said those words out loud to someone who was basically a stranger. She tried to hold the eye contact, but she was crumpling on the inside. Harry’s face was rather priceless though, Mia felt. She felt a little proud of herself, but also very uncomfortable and in unfamiliar territory.

Harry smiled to himself and hung his head a little lower to hide it, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t want everyone to see, I still think it’s something shared between you and your partner. Or partners, whatever.” He spoke, “But the idea of getting caught is a little thrilling, I have to admit.”

Mia’s cheeks had turned into a normal colour now that Harry answered her question. She could feel the feeling in her fingertips returning as she nodded, “So that’s why you did it? Because you like the feeling of maybe getting caught?” She guessed.

Harry rolled his head back into the couch with a sigh, “Not entirely. I-I don’t know. Why’s it matter?”

Mia relaxed in the seat again, “I’m not trying to give you advice or anything here.” Mia spoke, referring to what Harry assumed these sessions would be about the first time they met up earlier this week. Harry’s head lifted and he stared at her with guilt behind his green irises, lips twitching down a little, “I know.”

“I guess I’m just trying to understand.” Mia shrugged and Harry sighed, “But why do you have to understand? Isn’t it normal that you don’t always understand why or how other people do something? It’s such a… psychological thing.” He couldn’t help but turn it back towards their difference in education as he shrugged, “Can’t people just do things because they want to and feel like it? Why do you always have to understand, maybe sometimes you just won’t. Ever. And I think that’s okay?” He rambled.

Mia wrote down in the notebook, finding herself in agreement with Harry but it went against what she had to do in these sessions. She drew a breath, “I understand where you’re coming from. Listen, I-I don’t make the rules here, I’m just executing them.” She softly spoke in defeat, hoping Harry understood. 

He looked at her for a few more seconds, because he did understand. And it just sort of clicked for him. He wasn’t looking at a girl who’s biggest dream was to become a therapist. He was looking at a girl who wanted to pass her classes and her exams, and who needed extra credit even if it meant spending time volunteering in a job she wasn’t all that passionate about and was trying to find herself in.

“Okay.” Harry eventually breathed, “But I think I’ve earned the right to ask you another question.”

Mia softly groaned under her breath, feeling discomfort rising in her body at whatever Harry would fire at her. She sighed and shrugged, “I guess.”

He smiled and rubbed his hands together, mindlessly chewing the piece of gum between his teeth as he thought of it and eventually cleared his throat, “Who’s your hero?”

Yet another question Mia had never seen coming, so it took her a moment to even realise his words before she thought about it. They were left in silence, Harry observing her as Mia was lost in thought until she eventually flicked her eyes at him, “Maya Angelou.”

“Wow.” Harry muttered out, nodding to himself and finding himself impressed, “That’s a really good answer. Did you read her book?”

“I know why the caged bird sings?” Mia asked before nodding, “Yes.”

Harry smiled wider, “That’s so cool.”

“Have you read it?” Mia asked and Harry shook his head, “No, but I really want to.”

Mia nibbled her lip, “I have my copy of it at the apartment, I could lend it to you if you want to.”

Harry’s face lit up as he eagerly nodded, “That’d be sick. Yeah.”

“Okay.” She smiled back widely, “I’ll bring it next week. It’s got some folded edges and I think I wrote down stuff in it and highlighted some paragraphs.” She began in the form of an apology but Harry shook his head, “Don’t worry, I like that. I want to know what you felt like reading it.”

Mia blinked a few times in shock at his words, shyly smiling down, “Alright.”

The rest of the session went by quickly, with Mia trying to explore Harry’s relationship with the school. Another reason she could think of why he would do something as provocative as sleeping with someone in the library. She knew Harry had a bit of a rough first year, so maybe he held some sort of grudge against the school, but Harry didn’t give her much of an answer to that and didn’t feel very strongly about the school in general.

He asked her another question in between, and this time it was what her favourite memory was. Mia didn’t have to think long about that one, immediately responding how she took a solo trip with her two best friends over summer. It was the first time she really went somewhere without her parents and she had never felt so free – she didn’t say it to Harry in those words but she did think fondly of those times with her friends.

Two friends, who took the leap and the opportunity to study abroad this year while Mia stayed behind. One was in Australia, the other in New York. Very far away and Mia missed them tremendously, but they kept in touch through facetime and Mia had even received a couple of postcards. 

The pictures she received of Millie lying on a sunny beach in Australia while she was freezing her butt off here, made her jealous to say the least.

Mia wasn’t sure how Harry managed to get her so weak in the knees, but every little movement he did just caught her off guard and she’d need a minute to recompose herself. She wished his session was the last one, so one, he could maybe stay a little longer and they could chat, and two, she could just go home afterwards and faint on her bed.

But no, Harry’s hour was up and she had to see two others after that and stay here until seven before going home to a crowded apartment – which still sent her spiralling. She had given Hazel the green light to invite her friends over, something she already regretted tremendously but it was too late now to back down. Mia pushed herself out of her comfort zone but regretted it instantly and tried to crawl back, but she couldn’t do that to Hazel.

“So – uh, Tuesday at three?” Harry checked as he got up and put on his coat again. Mia stood up too, awkwardly fiddling with the sleeves of her jumper before nodding, “Yes, Tuesday at three.”

Harry opened up the door already to get out but looked over his shoulder, “Have a nice weekend, Mia."

“You t-“

“Harry!” The voice interrupted Mia as she was about to wish Harry a happy weekend, and she watched with a surprised look at the girl rushing up to Harry in the hallway. She had brown hair in a ponytail, cute bangs covering up her forehead and pink cheeks from the cold outside, “There you are!” She smiled widely.

“Oh. Hey.” He mumbled, a little taken aback to see this girl here. He scratched the back of his neck while I stared at her and how beautiful she was, and the knot in my stomach dropped when I took a step back. Was she the girl he had slept with? Or was she his girlfriend? She was very pretty and she just looked… cool. Fun. She looked like his type.

Mia wanted to curl into a ball at the sight or her waiting for him and Harry glanced over his shoulder again, “Bye.”

“Bye.” Mia murmured, receiving a gentle smile from the girl who picked him up before the door closed and they left together. Her stomach was in knots seeing him leave with her. She seemed nice, the girl with the bangs and the outstanding figure and the bubbly personality. It only made Mia shrink further away, wondering how she could ever think Harry would like her.

***

The tightness in her stomach hadn’t left, and it only worsened when she realised she couldn’t just go home and cry to Hazel about whatever stupid thing had happened and then go to bed at an early hour. No, she had to open the door to multiple people being in her home.

Mia had never been a hostess, she had never really had people over. When she met up with her friends, she used to go to their houses. Her parents weren’t all that keen on having people over and disrupting their day-to-day lives. So Mia did the effort and always went over to their place instead.

She had stayed at the library for one more hour to go over her therapy notes, trying to fix all the writing mistakes she made while penning down so rapidly as people spoke to her. As much as she had tried to pay attention to the other two students who came after Harry, her mind was constantly on him.

And the pretty girl he left with.

By now, her stomach was growling and she dragged herself home, completely dreading the moment she’d open the door and be met with strange people and noises. Mia realised she sounded whiny, but the presence of crowds just dragged her down a little. She was definitely someone who gained energy and good vibes from being by herself or having individual contacts.

The moment she pushed her key into the lock of her flat, she plastered a warm smile on her face and opened up the door. Instead of being met with rowdy, partying people, she opened up the door to a lovely warm apartment to see Hazel and two other girls on the couch drinking some tea.

“Mia.” Hazel’s face lit up as she jumped to her feet, “Hi!”

“Hello.” Mia smiled as she put her bag down and nervously pushed off her coat. She glanced over Hazel’s shoulder to the two other girls who curiously looked at her and Hazel exhaled a breath while smiling, “You’re home, good. We waited on deciding for dinner until you were here. Are you hungry?”

Mia rubbed her hands together, an anxious trait before she also started fiddling with her earlobe. She nodded at Hazel’s question, “Quite hungry, yes.”

“Alright.” Hazel nodded, “Ready to meet my two friends? They’re my best friends, I’ve told you lots about them already.”

Mia nibbled her lip and nodded, “Okay.”

Hazel linked her arm in Mia’s and gently pulled her into the living room, “Guys, this is Mia, my angel of a roommate.” She introduced her and Mia immediately blushed while staring at the ground in shyness before lifting her head. The two girls seemed lovely and friendly as they offered Mia warm smiles, “Hi, we’ve heard so much about you.” One said and the other nodded, “It’s really nice to meet you.” She added.

“You too.” Mia murmured. Hazel then spoke again, “Mia, that’s Cassie.” She introduced Mia to a girl with strawberry blonde hair, styled into a wolf cut that looked incredible on her, before moving onto the next girl, “And Lynn. They live together.” She explained.

Mia nodded and took in the second girl, who had raven-coloured long hair and wore it in a high ponytail. She wore dark, smudgy eye make-up and it looked incredible on her. Both were dressed in outfits that signalled they were going to some sort of bar after this, because they weren’t really dressed for cold weather at all.

“Yeah, we live together with the spawn of Satan.” Lynn dramatically added, and before Mia knew it they were explaining to her the story of how they were fighting with their third roommate and hardly dared going home anymore since the third girl terrorised the place apparently. Mia listened with wide eyes and interesting nods. She had never been introduced to so much drama but it was quite fun to hear about.

Hazel stared at her roommate with proud eyes as she sat in between Cassie and Lynn. Mia only really turned pink and shy when they asked her a question, but Hazel had spoken to them about Mia and let them know to take it easy on her.

They eventually decided to order pizza, Mia even branching out by trying a few toppings. She had to admit she forgot all about Harry while hanging out with Hazel’s friends in such a non-expecting kind of way. Like these people were just genuinely nice and interested and they didn’t judge or want anything from her.

It was refreshing. She didn’t have to prove a thing to them.

“Alright, it’s nine in the evening, I think it’s time to start drinking.” Cassie eventually announced after finishing up her tea, “Who wants margarita’s?!”

Lynn and Hazel both cheered as Mia blinked at Cassie a few times, who softly smiled at Mia from her position next to her, “Do you want one, Mia? I can make it non-alcohol if you like.”

Mia let out a relieved breath and nodded, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“No problem.” Cassie assured before she got up her feet and made herself comfortable in Mia and Hazel’s kitchen. Mia’s fingers itched to go help her or clean up after her or tell her not to slam the drawers so hard – but she refrained herself. She was trying to let go.

Once the doorbell rang, everyone assumed it was the pizza delivery service, but the third friend showed up. Renan was a very gay eighteen year old who Hazel had known most of her life. His hair was dyed navy blue and he sported a nose ring – which made Mia think of Harry instantly. He was just as friendly as the other two yet Mia needed a little more time to warm up to him for the simple fact that he was a man and she hadn’t interacted with men all that much in such a casual setting.

The non-alcohol margarita tasted delicious and eventually, Cassie made her a second one when the pizza’s arrived. It was foreign for Mia, sitting on the carpet around the coffee table and sharing pizza while having drinks and casual chats with friends. She was mostly listening to what they talked about, observing a little bit and smiling along sometimes.

Hazel followed her gaze when Mia got a text from Harry, smirking knowingly but not saying anything to her friends. Mia was pretty sure Lynn was in philosophy too.

Message from: H. Styles

Today’s session was actually kind of fun! Still no plans for tonight?

Mia warily looked at the message, leaving it open for a bit as she turned her phone over again and contemplated on what to answer him. She could feel Hazel staring at her and avoided her eyes. She didn’t exactly want to discuss this with the entire group, it’d be something for her and Hazel to talk about when they were on their own. 

“So Mia, do you want to go out with us tonight? We’re just going to this bar near campus.” Renan asked while chewing his pizza. Mia stopped mid-chew to stare at him and then flicked her eyes to Hazel, who was already looking back at her. Mia swallowed and cleared her throat, “Oh – uh… I don’t know.”

“Why not?” He pouted and Mia chuckled, “I-I wanted to revise a little bit.”

Cassie groaned in protest, “But it’s a Friday! Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s just a bar, nothing too crazy or loud or far. If you want to go home, you can.” She promised.

Mia felt put on the spot but eventually nodded, “Y-Yeah. Okay. I’ll come with you.” Her heart was beating a billion miles an hour as she agreed to do something she had never done before, and her anxiety was through the roof.

She stopped eating the pizza, her appetite fully gone and then she grabbed her phone, texting Harry back with shaky fingers.

Message to: H. Styles

I’m glad you liked it :). I’m going to a bar.

She sent it like that and locked her phone again before Hazel pulled her out of her thoughts, “Mia, can I talk to you for a minute?” She asked, nudging her head towards her bedroom. Mia nodded and followed her, blocking out the noise of the other three talking and laughing as she closed the door behind them when in Hazel’s bedroom.

“Are you okay?” Hazel checked immediately, “You don’t have to go out with us if you don’t want to. They won’t mind, I promise. They’re not like that. They just really like you and it would be fun if you’d join us. We’re just headed to that bar across the East building, it’s really mellow there and nothing rowdy.” She rambled.

“I-I’m fine. I think.” Mia stuttered, “Just a little nervous.”

Hazel pouted a little, “I know, I can tell.”

Mia fiddled with her fingers, “Can you… make me pretty then?”

“You’re already pretty.” Hazel frowned and Mia nibbled her lip, “Yeah, but… I don’t know, like my clothes and what make-up I should wear?”

“Of course,” Hazel rushed out, “but you don’t need any of that. Where’s this coming from?”

Mia pressed her lips together and shrugged and Hazel frowned deeper, “Is this because of Harry?”

“He just…” Mia sighed before shrugging again and diverting her eyes lower, “some girl picked him up after therapy and she was really pretty.”

“Is she his girlfriend, you think?”

“I don’t know.” Mia murmured, “I didn’t talk to her and I haven’t asked him. I-It’s stupid, right? That I’m feeling so down about that?”

“It’s not.” Hazel shook her head, “You like him a little, you have a crush. So it’s not a nice feeling to see him with someone else, even if she’s not his girlfriend. Have you spoken to him afterwards?”

Mia pulled out her phone, unlocked it and showed her screen with the messages. Hazel’s eyes flicked over the typed letters and she puffed out a loud huff, “Damn, Mia, you’re cold!”

“What?” Mia asked with raised brows and Hazel laughed softly, “You didn’t give him any room for an answer! You didn’t ask what he was doing, you didn’t say what bar you’re going to… it’s pretty obvious he asked you that because he wants to see you tonight.” She grinned.

Mia frowned, “It is? Obvious? I-I don’t know.”

Hazel playfully rolled her eyes, “You’re just so oblivious. Come on, let’s get you ready.”

“Yeah.” Mia ignored the heaviness in her tummy, somehow wanting to do this tonight but today had just already been a lot and she felt like she could use a nap. But she tried to be more spontaneous. If the bar really was that close, maybe she could just leave after like ten minutes of socialising and pushing her boundaries.

“D’you want a hug first?” Hazel offered and Mia sighed with low shoulders, “Yes, please.”

Hazel chuckled and pulled Mia into her, and the two hugged in the bedroom of the apartment which relaxed Mia to an extent she couldn’t explain. She pulled back with a soft smile, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Hazel nodded, before pulling Mia into her own bedroom to pick out an outfit.

About twenty minutes later, the entire crew of five was in Mia’s bedroom, looking for outfits. Mia had felt uncomfortable at first with all these people in her space, but they didn’t make anything weird and they didn’t look at her strangely. They just looked at her clothes and gave her advice, eventually settling on a cute flowy top with little blue flowers on it. It was a little low shaped around her chest but nothing her loose hair wouldn’t cover up. She pulled out the braid for the first time in what felt like forever.

Along with black flares that nipped in at her waist to give her an outstanding figure – as Renan said it to make Mia blush – and some heeled boots, the observers deemed her ready to go out with them. Mia borrowed a leather blazer from Hazel and felt like an entirely new woman. 

She was still fiddly and anxious, but also a little excited. She felt comfortable around these people and she hadn’t heard from Harry anymore. She hardly believed Hazel’s words. If Harry wanted to see her, he’d ask her, right?

Cassie offered her another non-alcohol margarita while Lynn did some magic on Mia’s eyes. With just some soft brown eyeshadow and a little blush, she looked very put together and was happy with the result.

“You have such good skin.” Lynn complimented while stroking the brush over Mia’s cheeks. The compliment made her smile and giddy inside, “Thank you. I have a pretty good routine down.”

“Yeah? You should let me have a look at those products.” She chuckled, “My skin’s a nightmare ever since going on birth control.”

Mia didn’t answer much, she couldn’t really talk about the topic of birth control. She wasn’t on any – her mother would absolutely kill her if she so much as mentioned it – and she didn’t feel like she truly needed it right now. Her periods weren’t all that bad and she wasn’t sexually active.

Once Mia put on her shoes, everyone was ready to leave a little bit before eleven. Mia couldn’t remember the last time she stayed up this late, her arm linked in Hazel’s as they braved the November cold in their thin – yet pretty – outfits.

A few streets over, Harry was in the very bar Mia was heading to. He sat next to Liam, drinking beer out of the bottle with his jumper on the chair next to him and his arms on display. He leaned back into the chair, watching as Niall and Louis played a game of pool and Zayn was at the bar ordering some more drinks.

His phone was on the table, staring at Mia’s message. He let out another sigh after swallowing his beer, “Seriously, what am I supposed to answer to that?” He groaned while showing Liam the screen. His friend had chuckled at his desperate attempts to get Mia to have a decent conversation with him through text. He shrugged, “She’s not a mind reader, Harry. I don’t think there’s any malicious intent in her text, she just doesn’t realise what you really want to ask.”

Harry rolled his eyes, nervously chewing on his lip. Today had been great with Mia – great enough that Harry could not get her out of his mind. The way her face fell when Sarah waited for him after the session, hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He didn’t understand it, but didn’t have time to ask her anything.

Harry shot Sarah a brief wave, who was on the other side of the bar with Mitch. They were also people Harry had gotten to know through student housing, and he actually set the two of them up. He was quite proud of his work as Cupid, he only hoped he could do it for himself once too. 

As Zayn came back with the beers, the door opened with a little ding and Harry routinely checked to see who walked in and if it was someone he knew.

He froze completely when he did a double take, thinking he recognized Mia, only she looked completely different. Well, not completely different. Her hair was the same – only out of the braid – and he recognized the blue of her eyes as well as her soft pink lips, and the shape of her body in the flares she had worn all day.

But she looked confident, dressed in a cute floral top which was mostly hidden by the leather jacket she wore. She was surrounded by giddy girls which Harry recognized faintly from school. Mia had her arm linked in Hazel’s, someone Harry knew from certain classes.

“Liam.” He elbowed his buddy in the ribs harshly while keeping his eyes trained on Mia, who unsurely darted her eyes through the space to seize it up. Harry wondered if she had ever been here before.

“Ouch.” Liam complained, rubbing his sore rib as he frowned at Harry, “What?”

“That’s her.” He nudged his head in Mia’s direction who was now near the bar and standing close to Hazel while fiddling with her fingers. Liam chuckled, “Mia? She’s the one in the floral top?”

“Yes.” He nodded and Liam hummed, “She’s really cute.”

Harry turned around with a glare and Liam burst out into a cackle, “Fucking hell, you’ve got it bad. I mean she looks really sweet, H. Kind of too sweet for you.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Too sweet for me.” He repeated in a low mumble and Liam chuckled again, “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, I think you can use someone to soften you up a little. You’re always so grumpy and uptight.”

“’M not uptight.” Harry retorted and Liam rolled his eyes, “It’s not because you fuck someone in a library and get caught doing so, that you’re not uptight. You’re just so… impatient and short-tempered. Like I said, someone to soften you up.”

Harry rolled his eyes too and snuck his eyes back to Mia, completely drawn to her and he knew other guys in the space were shooting her looks too. It was obviously someone new, someone no one had really seen before. She didn’t stand out much still in between her rather eclectic friends – including a guy with blue hair – but she was very easy on the eyes.

When she finally caught his eye, Mia’s face completely fell in pure shock. She paled and swallowed thickly, forcing him a tight-lipped smile, which Harry returned as he shot her a small wave. Mia’s heart was pounding and she turned around briskly, “Hazel.” She spoke in a right panic, eyes wide and heart thrashing violently in her chest.

Hazel frowned, “What’s wrong?”

“He’s here.” Mia squeaked in a shaky voice, “He’s here, he’s sitting right there! Oh my god.” She whispered while bringing her hand up to her mouth, “Oh my god, I’m gonna be sick.”

Hazel pressed her lips together, trying to keep a straight face when she really wanted to burst out laughing, “Mia,” She breathed, “he’s just a guy. Just… let him come to you and see what happens. You don’t need to be nervous. He’s just like you and me.”

Mia tried to level her breathing, tried to really listen to what Hazel was saying but her mind was clouded with anxiety, balancing on the edge of excitement but just tipping over into the truly scary side that made her spiral a little. 

She felt Harry’s eyes burning into her back and she subconsciously immediately wondered if he liked the way she looked tonight. Hazel nudged her into a booth and Mia slid in, sitting in between Cassie and Hazel and right across from Renan and Lynn. Her hands anxiously rubbed together on her lap until Hazel took a hold of one of them to distract her.

Mia really couldn’t explain how eternally grateful she was for her friend and her endless patience.

Sitting down, she found herself calming down a little. Harry wasn’t in her direct sight, she’d have to near snap her neck to take a look at him. She slowly sipped on the non-alcohol drink Hazel ordered her. It tasted sweeter than the margarita from earlier and she found herself quite liking it. She listened in on conversation but no one really seemed to mind that she was more of a silent observer than a loud participant.

Letting her eyes scan the room, Mia began to appreciate the building they were in. It was cosy and nice. The music was rather soft and in the background, it was littered with booths and then some smaller, round tables. There were pool tables on one side, the ceilings were high and had some wooden beams on them and the bar was long and shiny. It really did give off a good vibe.

Her breath caught in her throat again though when she laid eyes on the girl she had seen Harry with earlier. Her hair was still in the ponytail and she smiled widely at something the guy opposite her said, and Mia’s eyes widened when she leaned over the table and planted a kiss to his lips. 

Okay, so not Harry’s girlfriend.

Mia instantly felt silly for immediately assuming something like that and let out a sigh, wondering if she had been harsh in her messaging to Harry. With her lip between her teeth, she pulled out her phone.

Message to: H. Styles

Hi. :)

She left the page open, waiting for the three dots to appear in an answer from him, but minutes passed and nothing came on. Mia exhaled a breath and dared to sneak a glance over her shoulder, quickly seeing Harry leaned over the pool table with a stick in his hand and his lip between his teeth before he took his shot. She averted her eyes to the table behind him, seeing his phone on it.

He hadn’t seen. He hadn’t ignored her.

She felt relieved again, but hated the way she was so affected by this entire thing. She hadn’t really even known Harry for a week yet had seen him three times, and the receiving or not receiving a message from him really affected her mood. She didn’t like it, the power she had so willingly handed him because she was very certain it wasn’t the other way around.

She doubted he thought of her that much or that he waited for her text, or that he was this nervous to be in the same room as her.

Following along in conversation again, it was only a few minutes later that Mia wiggled herself out of the booth to get the next round. She had seen other people ordering and then the bartenders brought the drinks to the table, so she could do that. Order and pay, and then sit down again for them to be delivered. There was no way she could carry five drinks.

She had taken off the blazer and brushed her hair over her shoulder as she waited in line, subtly glancing to her left to see Harry again. She had been so shocked to see his face, that she hadn’t even noticed he was wearing a shirt and she could see his arms. He was too far away for her to decently see what tattoos he had, but he definitely had tattoos. His one arm looked like it was inked with lots of smaller doodles, while his other arm seemed mostly vacant apart from a few larger ones she couldn’t really see well.

He had a concentrated frown on his forehead, brown wavy chestnut hair swept away with one little floppy curl hanging down over the skin. He peeked through one eye before jamming his arm forward, bicep flexing as he harshly hit the white ball to collide with another.

Mia didn’t know much about the rules of pool, but in her mind, Harry had just won the entire game. He stared critically at his work, walking a slow circle around the table until she could see his casual jeans coming into sight. With the white t-shirt on, he looked so incredibly good she could drool if she opened her mouth.

“Hi.” Someone stood in front of her, blocking her view of Harry immediately and she blinked a couple of times to snap out of her thoughts. In front of her was a blonde man, smiling gently down at her to reveal one dimple in his cheek.

Harry had two.

She shifted on her other leg and politely smiled back, “Hi.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before, is it your first time here?” He questioned out of the blue and Mia swallowed, nodding softly, “It is.”

He took a swig of his beer and hummed, “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Tyler.” He extended his hand for her to shake and Mia hesitantly did, shaking it, “Mia.” She introduced herself.

The guy didn’t move away from her as she moved up a spot in the line for the bar. She snuck a glance over her shoulder, seeing Hazel and Cassie with their backs to her while Lynn and Renan were too busy in conversation to notice Mia talking to this stranger.

She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them.

“So you’re a student, I suppose?” Tylerasked, shuffling along with her. Mia nodded, “I am. Psychology, first year.”

Tyler’s face lit up, “Really? No way! I’m in my third year of psychology.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” Mia smiled gently, feeling slightly more at ease now that it sounded like he was just being polite and moving up in the line with her. Maybe he attempted to strike up a conversation to cut the line a little, make people think they were together so he didn’t have to wait for drinks as long.

“First year’s quite hard, don’t let it demotivate you though.” Tyler advised, “Are you struggling with any subjects?”

All of them – Mia thought to herself, but she shrugged instead, “It’s alright.” She lied, “Neuropsychology is quite difficult.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Tyler groaned, “I hated that. Who’s the professor again?”

“Professor Sawyer.” Mia answered and he chuckled again, “Right. She was such a bitch to me in my first year.”

Mia felt a little taken aback by his blunt words and just pressed her lips together. Never did she think she’d ever call another woman a bitch. Nor did she think professor Sawyer was one. She was a strict professor, but a correct one. She brought the course materials in a very right way, only it was a difficult subject and Mia was already slightly behind due to her dyslexia.

“So – uh,” Mia cleared her throat, forcing herself to say something, “how did your first year go?”

Tyler chuckled while taking another sip, “Passed the entire thing, with flying colours actually.”

Even if he was cocky about it, Mia did find herself slightly impressed. Tyler caught onto the look of wonder in her eyes, “If you ever have any questions… I could tutor you.”

Mia’s stomach tightened and her hands balled into fists in the back pockets of her jeans, “Oh. T-That’s nice but I’m actually following tutoring sessions already.”

“Yeah, but you have to pay for those. You wouldn’t have to pay for them with me. Unless – I mean, if you wanted to buy me dinner or pay me back in some other way, I wouldn’t stop you.” He had a small smirk on his lips and Mia’s cheeks heated up, immediately wondering if he meant what she thought he meant, and she very much hoped not.

She offered him a tight-lipped smile and Lucas drew a breath, “I’ll put my number in your phone, y’know, in case you ever need it.”

Mia felt her throat going a little dry, “I-I don’t have my phone on me right now.” She mumbled. It was true, she had left it on the table. All she took was some cash. She looked at her table, realising no one had noticed yet that she was here with Tyler in a conversation that had turned unpleasant pretty quickly. Not even the people around her – who could listen in – seemed alarmed at how uncomfortable she got.

“Oh,” Tyler pulled out his phone, “you can put your number in mine then.”

Mia’s lips parted as she scanned her brain for the right words to say until she eventually found her voice, “I – uh… I don’t think I want that. I don’t need tutoring, thank you.”

“Mia.” He frowned, pushing his phone a little closer to her, “C’mon, put in your number.”

“She said no, just back off.” Harry’s voice sounded closer by then she could’ve anticipated, and Mia jumped up a little at his sudden interruption. She could see him behind Tyler, a concerned frown on his face before he glanced at Mia, “Hey. You alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” She shakily answered. Tyler stared Harry up and down, “What? Mate, I’m in conversation.”

“Not anymore.” Harry shrugged, “Get lost, leave her alone. She doesn’t want your number.”

Tyler frowned deeper at him and then stared at Mia, huffing out bitterly before he turned around and left. Mia felt like she could breathe decently and Harry took Tyler’s spot, taking in Mia’s trembling form.

“Mia.” He tried to get her attention, moving one hand to her arm to get her to look at him, “I need you to tell me if you’re okay.”

Mia felt electrified with him touching her for the first time, a warm palm that she could feel even through the fabric of her floral blouse with the long bell sleeves. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.” She murmured. Harry still looked worried as he nodded and then dropped his hand, “Good. I sent you like three texts asking you if I had to come and save you.”

She rubbed her forehead, “I left my phone on the table, I didn’t see.”

“Oh. Well, it’s always a good idea to bring your phone if you’re leaving your little group. Even in a bar like this, there are creeps everywhere.” His voice sounded gravelly and if Mia hadn’t been so flustered from her run-in with Tyler, she’d appreciate the way Harry stood in front of her in his effortless beauty. How someone could make a white shirt and blue jeans look so fashionable, was a mystery to her.

“Right.” She nodded at his words which were so obvious, “I-I’m sorry.” Mia felt stupid for not thinking of something so small as keeping her phone on her. Her arms were around herself and Harry shook his head, “Don’t apologise, ‘m just glad you’re okay.” He reassured her.

“And thank you for saving me.” She breathed, “He wanted my number, I-I didn’t want him to have it.”

Harry nodded, “I know.” He tried his best to keep his calm, but to see some guy blatantly flirting with an anxious Mia while he had to watch from across the bar as she forced him tight-lipped smiles and hardly dared to look at him, had been torture for Harry.

He didn’t want to overstep, but he didn’t want to leave her alone either. When he saw her visibly flinching at something he said, that’s where Harry drew the line and went to intervene. And he was glad he did, and he felt like he should’ve done it sooner.

“I was just trying to be polite.” Mia choked out, “I wasn’t flirting with him, I-I swear.”

“Hey,” He frowned, bringing his hand back to her bicep to gently rub in an attempt to calm her down, “I know, it’s okay. I didn’t think you were.”

Mia’s body flooded with relief at his words and Harry then shot her a reassuring smile, “I’m actually glad to run into you here. Didn’t think this was the bar you were referring to.”

“Oh.” Mia smiled softly, “I-I’ve never actually been here. I usually stay in on Fridays and enjoy some time by myself.”

Harry nodded, “Right. Well, I’m glad you’re here.” He repeated, feeling stupid about saying the same thing twice, but it was worth it when it caused Mia to shyly smile down at her feet. Harry decided to push it, feeling slightly more confident that maybe – just maybe – she had a crush on him too. “You look really pretty, Mia.”

“Stop.” She winced, bringing her hands out of the pockets of her jeans to hide her face with a giggle. Harry laughed at that, “What?” He pried and she shook her head, “You’re making me blush.” She admitted in a murmur.

They shuffled further into the line, only one person in front of them before she could place her order. “Because I’m giving you a compliment?” Harry asked and Mia nodded, still hiding her face until she spread her fingers so she could peek through them. Harry was still smiling at her and she eventually dropped her hands, revealing her pink cheeks and her soft grin.

Harry breathed out a chuckle and shook his head, “You’re also really cute.”

“Oh my god.” Mia winced, hiding her face again and Harry laughed a little louder this time, not stopping himself as he ghosted his hand over her lower back to nudge her forward. He did gently touch her to get her attention, “It’s your turn to order.”

Mia took a breath before removing her hands and clearing her throat in front of the waiter, “Hi. Uh – two beers, one red martini and one pink martini. And one alcohol free margarita, please.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a soft smile, and he didn’t have to ask her to know which drink was for her. He also signalled the waiter, “Another beer for me. You can bring the drinks to that table,” He pointed to where Mia’s friends were, “and bring one of the beers and the margarita straight here.” He spoke.

The waiter nodded and when Mia went to pay for the drinks, Harry shook his head and instead offered his own card before Mia could protest. She stared at Harry with big wondrous eyes and he smiled down at her before urging her to sit down on one of the barstools off to the side. She did as he motioned for her to do before watching him as he grabbed another barstool and easily lifted it.

The sight of his muscles working just made her feel something she couldn’t really explain, and Harry was oblivious to her staring eyes as he placed the stool down right next to hers, their knees bumping together clumsily before he climbed on it.

“Thank you for the drink.” Mia broke the silence. Harry waved her sentiment away with a chuckle, “That’s alright.”

“How did you know the margarita was mine?” She asked curiously and Harry leaned his elbow on the bartop, shrugging, “Guessed it. You don’t strike me as the type to drink much.”

Mia’s smile fell a little and Harry caught on, quickly shaking his head, “No, no, I don’t mean in like a… I think you’re boring-way, because definitely not. I don’t know, you just seem careful.”

“I am.” She admitted, leaving out the part where she wondered sometimes if it was too careful. Mia always felt like careful was a nice way of saying that she was boring, and she had heard it all her life. Some said she was too careful and others – her parents – claimed she was never careful enough. Mia drew a breath, “I’ve never had an alcoholic drink.”

“That’s fine.” Harry shrugged, “I don’t drink much besides beer either."

Their drinks got placed in front of them before the waiter hurried away to serve the remainder of the people waiting in line. Harry lifted up his bottle, “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Mia softly smiled, “And thank you, again. For the drink, for stepping in, for… everything.”

“Now you’re going to make me blush.” He teased and Mia giggled, taking a sip of her drink as he took a sip of his. He swallowed it, “D’you want to try it? Beer?” He offered her his bottle.

“Oh.” Mia hesitated, nibbling her lip. Harry saw her stare, “It doesn’t have much alcohol in it. You definitely won’t feel it from one sip, I promise.”

She looked at him and eventually nodded, “Okay.” She took the bottle from him and carefully brought it to her lips. Harry wanted to shoot himself when he could only think unholy things as she tipped the bottle back and her lips folded around the crown of it. He wanted to throw it to the side and pull her on his lap and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

Somehow it felt a little intimate, her drinking from his bottle. Her drinking where his lips had just been. Mia made a bit of a sour face at the taste and swallowed quickly, “I don’t think I like it.”

Harry chuckled and quickly reached for the bottle again, taking an urgent sip with the sole purpose of trying to taste some of her on it. And he did. The sweetness of her drink was covering up the crown of the bottle, and he licked his lips to savour it afterwards.

“You have so many tattoos.” Mia observed, deciding to state the obvious now that she could get a good look at his arms. Harry glanced down too and nodded, “I do. Kind of couldn’t stop once I started. I really only started getting them when I turned eighteen and it went on from there.” He simply explained.

Mia finally could see the full writing on his wrist, staring at the ink that decorated him so perfectly it seemed almost like he was born with it. 

Her and Harry got lost in a conversation she couldn’t exactly remember. The green of his eyes was enough to block out all her senses, and Harry thought it was adorable how she had to often ask him to repeat a question because she was stuck staring at him. It turned into blushing cheeks for her and teasing grins from him. 

Their knees bumped together more often now and Mia’s cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. She still felt some anxiety, but it was pure excitement now. Excitement to spend time with Harry, who had sort of been her knight in shining armour tonight. Mia hated to admit that she found that attractive, yet she had a feeling Harry didn’t mind being protective.

And she felt safe here, with him in a rather crowded bar. 

Her smile faltered though when she noticed Tyler again in the corner of her eye, glaring at the pair as he mumbled something to one of his mates. They didn’t seem to pay much attention to his words, but Mia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Harry took notice of it, following her gaze before shooting her a sympathetic smile, “Are you okay?” He checked once more.

Mia exhaled a breath and contemplated her answer, but Harry beat her to it, “D’you want to go home?”

She lifted her eyes, apologising to him through them, “I think so, yes.”

He nodded understandingly, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

Mia’s brows raised, “What? You don’t have to do that. Your friends are all here.”

“I see them every day.” He chuckled, “I don’t mind, Mia. Really. It would make me feel a lot better to know you got home safe.”

She nibbled her lip in hesitation, “Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” He nodded with a confirming smile, “I suppose you don’t live far?”

“No, like ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” Harry smiled, “Come on, let me walk you home.”

She fought the grin on her lips but found herself nodding, “Okay.”

#writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #one direction #harrystyles #wattpad #hsau #hs #harrystylesfanfic #harrystylesau #harrystylesff #harrystylesfanfiction #alisonfelix #hstyles #smutwarning #smuttystory #shortstory

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

i’m in need of junkerqueen angst and this is another song one, if you don’t mind of course.

You’re losing me - Taylor Swift

you may not be into her music which is perfectly fine just hear me out with the lyrics on this one.

“Do something, babe, say something. Lose something, babe, risk something. Choose something, babe, I got nothing to believe, unless you're choosin' me”

you see my vision here? the heart breaking angst that could be written here 🙏🙏

trust

You're Loosing Me (Junkerqueen x reader)

Things hadn't been normal in a very long time. You didn't know what it was, but something just wasn't right. The love of your life hadn't been around as much as when the two of you moved in together.

The two of you were inseparable at first. She took you everywhere, even to confidential meetings. There was nothing you didn't do together. But a year or so back, she started acting weird. At first you thought it was just her being stressed out from work, so you tried to be patient. To be someone that she could talk to.

But nothing changed.

If anything, it got worse.

Odessa started staying out much later than you were used to. She didn't parade you around town as much. Didn't take you out at least once a week. Didn't let you go to meetings with her to let you sit on her lap while she made jokes about what people were saying.

Instead, it was you staying at home. You’d do laps around the house just to be able to move around. Wash the dishes and dry them and put them away and then decide to re organize everything because it didn’t make sense how it was. Decide that the way that you did it was dumb and then put it back to how it was originally. Then look at it again and decide that both ways were stupid so you re did it again. You’d wipe down counters and mop floors. Make the bed and then re-make the bed after you decide to lay down.

But nothing helps the ache in your chest. Nothing helps the way that you long for your girlfriend to be with you. To have her make you laugh. To have her pepper you in kisses and tell you how she loves you.

To have her

One day you decide you’ve had enough. You can’t wait around for her to realize how you’re feeling. Anytime you try to talk to her about it she’d just brush it off and say, “we’ll do something together soon.” But soon never came. Soon was some intangible thing that you could never seem to reach, always being pushed back. It was always right there, so close. But it was also always so far away, ungraspable.

So you write a note. It has every emotion that you’re too scared to tell her in person. Every time that she left you to your own emotions. Every time she left you to comfort yourself.

Every time she left you

Every time she decided that she had better things than you.

You, who waited until ungodly hours of the morning for her.

You, who was always there for her.

You, who wanted nothing more than for her to choose her the way you chose her.

You, who loved her more than anything.

You, who never got that love back.

Everything you wanted to scream at her was right on that piece of paper. Every emotion you could never seem to verbalize before was there.

But, of course, Dez took that time to come home early.

She had already been having a shitty day. No clue why, but she had been. She woke up from sleeping on the couch, not wanting to risk waking you and hearing your endless questions, and went to go make coffee like she normally did. Except she couldn’t find her mug because you kept moving it, so she had to spend half an hour looking for it, only to realize that you had set it out by the coffee maker. Then she spilled it on her lap, making her have to change clothes. The shower blasted her with freezing cold water randomly. She couldn’t find the pair of clothes that she wanted to wear to a really important meeting. She was then late to said really important meeting.

All in all, her day was shit.

And it got worse when she say you at the same counter where you left her coffee mug, writing a note with bags packed. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

“What’re ya doin?” Dez asked.

You jumped, not expecting her to be home, and cringed as you turned around. You were just re-reading the note for the millionth time, trying to convince yourself to throw it away and go back to your room.

“I’m…I’m leaving, Odessa.”

“…what?”

You never used her full name. Never. It was always Dez or Dessa or “My Queen.” Never Odessa.

“I said I’m leaving. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Can’t take what? Living in the luxury that I provide for you?”

The venom in her words shocked you. It was unexpected and hurt a lot more than you thought it would. Apparently the walls that you had built up to prevent this weren’t as effective as you had hoped.

“The luxury that you provide for me isn’t what I want, Odessa. I want you. But I can never seem to have you anymore. You’re always out doing something else. Sleeping on the couch to avoid me. Telling me that we’ll do something together soon and then soon never comes. I’m tired of it. I can’t…I can’t live like this.”

Your words shocked the both of you. Odessa looked at you, a mix of shock and concern on her face. But that mixed look changed to rage. How dare you?

“Excuse me? I have a whole damn country to run. Pardon me for not being able to spend every waking moment with you. What is it that you do, anyway?”

Your sorrow quickly changed to rage at her words. “What is it that I do? I make sure that you come home to a clean house. I clean everything a million times over. I go and get groceries and then make your breakfast, lunch, and dinner out of said groceries and then go and get more. I make sure that the water in the shower is hot enough so that you can take as long as you may need to destress. I offer myself as comfort and solace for you, but you’re “too busy” to pay any attention. I’m fucking done! I don’t deserve this! God fucking damnit, Odessa, open your eyes!” You shouted back.

The queen in front of you just stared in shock. You’d never, ever spoken to her like that.

Ever.

When she didn’t respond, you got angrier. “Jesus, say something. Do something, Odessa! I need you to choose.” Your voice softened. “And by god I need you to choose me. I need you to choose me so bad because you’re my everything. You’re my everything and I don’t know who I am without you. But if I’m not your everything too then I’m leaving.”

Still, Odessa didn’t say a word. It was like her mouth was glued shut. Tears had started streaming down your cheeks at some point and you angrily wiped them away. “You’re about to loose me and you won’t even any anything. Great to know. Goodbye, Odessa Stone. Goodbye.”

And with that, you were gone. You’d picked up your bag and walked out the front door, slamming it behind you. All while Odessa just watched.

It was after you left that Odessa came to her senses. Everything in her screamed to chase after you, to beg you to come back. But what good would that do? Instead, the giant of a woman slowly walked to the counter and read your note.

She couldn’t even finish it before the tears started. She sobbed as she read how you were feeling. As she realized what she had been doing to you. God, she deserved this.

She had all of Junkertown and yet she couldn’t even keep you.

Odessa sunk to the floor, clutching the last thing of yours that she had as she cried.

#why did you make me do this #overwatch #overwatch 2 #junkerqueen simp supreme #junkerqueen x Reader #overwatch2 #overwatch x reader #junkerqueen angst #overwatch Angst

[rorilisa]

His Color

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (no y/n used)

Summary: After a conversation with a certain god of mischief leads to a bold claim that he owns the color green, the reader puts it to the test with her very own green dress. And when he finally sees her in said dress… months of flirtatious comments and sexual tension may finally reach a breaking point. (This was inspired loosely by the song “Green Green Dress” from tick, tick boom, specifically the bonus track version because it is *chefs kiss*)

Warnings and such: swearing, potential future smut, sexual tension, sexual themes, potentially some slight angst, this is one of those “everyone’s alive and living together” AU’s, other characters have cameos, i tried to keep the readers description vague so she’d fit everyone, let me know if i missed anything!

Word Count: 3k

Mornings at the Avengers compound tended to be slow and quiet, the normally hyperactive heroes catching up on as much greatly deserved sleep as they possibly could. On a normal morning, only a handful of the team could even be found out of bed before 7 o’clock, but for some reason a certain hero in training sits with her coffee at the bar top of an empty kitchen. She sips silently, sitting with only the rising sun as her light as she attempts to wake her fuzzy mind. She doesn’t expect anyone to stumble into the kitchen at this hour, which is why when a hand lands gently on her shoulder, a startled yelp leaves her lips. She whips around quickly, coffee forgotten on the counter as she readies herself to fight this unknown enemy in the early morning light. Instead of a dangerous enemy, she meets the green eyes of the equally dangerous god of mischief. 

“Shit Loki, you scared me half to death.” She sighs out tiredly, turning back to her coffee as the raven haired male makes his way around the bar to get his own coffee, a proud smirk on his lips. 

“Yes, I see that.” He chuckles and turns to face her, leaning back against the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker as he waits for his cup to brew. “And what exactly are you doing up at this hour?” 

“I could ask you the same question.” She quips back, a tired smirk making its way onto her face as well. The way they fall into easy banter so quickly used to startle her, but after so many months of it, it's almost become a routine between the two of them. Loki hums and picks up his mug without turning his attention away from her. 

“You could, but I asked you first.” She rolls her eyes and huffs in fake annoyance at his childish response.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore. I have a lot on my mind.” She responds simply before bringing the mug back to her lips. Loki nods in understanding, and she has to fight a loving smile when he doesn’t push her to explain. That’s one of the many things she’s grown to like (love?) about Loki; he doesn’t pry about personal matters. He knows that she would share if she wanted to.

“Are you looking forward to Stark’s little gathering tomorrow?” He redirects the conversation easily as he walks back around the bar and takes the stool beside her. She fights the urge to groan and instead settles for another sigh.

“I forgot about that… I don’t have anything to wear.” She complains and lowers her head to rest it on the cool bar top. Loki chuckles and shakes his head in response to her dramatics. 

“Nothing? I find that hard to believe.” 

She huffs and raises her head. “This isn’t just any gathering, Loki. This is Stark's annual charity banquet. Practically all of New York is going to be there. So yes, I have nothing to wear.” She nearly cries when she realizes she’ll have to go shopping, her early morning brain incapable of imagining the stressful scenario that is dress shopping in busy New York City. The young hero goes silent as she thinks about what kind of styles or colors she might want, but she quickly loses her train of thought when she sees Loki watching her. There’s an unreadable but strong emotion in his emerald eyes, and it almost sends a shiver down her spine. 

“What?” She asks self consciously, and the god only shakes his head with a small smile.

“Nothing. What are you thinking about?” His quick redirection causes her to narrow her eyes, but she goes along with the new flow of conversation.

“What I’m going to buy for this stupid thing.” Her normal style wouldn’t work for such a high end gathering, and seeing as this would be her first year attending, she didn’t even know where to begin finding an outfit. “I’d normally wear something safe like a black dress, or maybe something red if I was feeling bold, but that feels so… basic. Like easy options. And this thing is basically Stark’s version of the Met Gala so I can’t go with the basics.”

Loki nods along as the girl beside him rants, before ultimately shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Once you find your perfect color-” he gestures down at his emerald green sweater, “-you’ll find it’s much easier picking outfits.” He chuckles softly, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Well maybe I’ll wear green.” She states, crossing her arms over her chest in a playful defiance. “You don’t own the color, you know?”

Loki scoffs and places a hand over his own chest, almost as if in indignation at her statement. “Darling, when you look as good in it as I do, you do in fact own it.” His signature smirk takes up residence on his face again, and she tries not to pay too much attention to the way her cheeks heat up at the pet name. 

“Oh please. You’ll see.” She smiles confidently and raises her chin. “We’ll find out who green really belongs to tomorrow night.” His eyes narrow at her this time as he weighs the unspoken challenge in his mind.

“Yes, I suppose we will.” He stands from his stool and lowers his head in a quick bow. “Until then.” He lifts his head and meets her eyes with a mischievous grin before turning smoothly and gliding away. She has to fan her face to calm the rising heat on her cheeks and neck, but she smiles down at her coffee with renewed vigor. With a point to prove and a god to awe, she thought that perhaps this shopping trip wouldn’t be as dreadful as she feared.

**********************

The night of Stark’s charity banquet approached rather quickly, and as Loki stood in front of his mirror making sure all the pieces of his suit were in place, he couldn’t help but think about the early morning chat he’d had with the young trainee. He felt excitement rush through him at the thought of her, and he quickly replaced the dopey smile on his face with a confident smirk. 

“None of that.” He told himself, as if his feelings were ever something that tended to listen to him. After fixing up the final touches of his suit and incredibly flattering corset vest, he brushes back his hair with a smug smirk before making his way out of his room and to the elevator that’s already filled with finely dressed Avengers. His eyes quickly scan the group of people for the girl that has taken over his thoughts, but instead he only finds various residents of the compound, some of which shift further away when he enters the small space. Loki lets out an exasperated sigh and leans against the far wall of the elevator, where he also sees a familiar super-soldier assassin. “Good evening Sergeant Barnes.”

The man looks up at Loki at the call of his name and greets him with a tired smile. “Good evening,” Bucky responds in his deep rumbly voice, fidgeting absentmindedly with the end of his left sleeve and the leather glove covering his metal hand. “Surprised to see you’re going to this thing.”

Loki chuckles and nods. “I wasn’t sure I was going to,” is his simple reply.

“Well, what changed?”

The god tilts his head as he thinks of an answer, the only one he seemingly can conjure up consisting of someone’s bright flirtatious smile, beautiful eyes, and the promise of seeing her in his color. 

“Thought it might be good for my image. To be seen around, socializing, being a generally good samaritan.” Although his answer was somewhat truthful, it was not the real reason he was going, nor was it something he really cared about all that much. “What about you? I did not imagine I’d be seeing you at any social gathering this large either.”

The ex-assassin nods and clears his throat, his blue eyes filled with sincerity when they meet Loki’s green ones. “Same reason as you, I guess…” 

Loki nods in understanding, feeling sympathy for the broken man standing beside him. “Well, I wish you a successful evening.” He responds as the elevator doors slide open and he begins to make his way out into the beautifully decorated ballroom. He nearly rolls his eyes, because of course Stark built a ballroom in this compound. 

“Yeah, you too.” Bucky claps the god on the shoulder before offering him a tight smile and making his way over to the large bar in the corner of the massive room. 

Loki begins scanning the expansive space, telling himself he’s only taking in the white and gold decorations and the balcony that’s already beginning to fill with people, but he knows that he’s really looking for her. He begins to walk along the edge of the dance floor where more tables are situated for guests, taking in the band that’s setting up on the stage at the end of the empty floor and the steadily growing noise of the guests chattering away. A buzzing headache begins to form in his temples, and Loki suppresses a groan. He wishes she’d just show up already to ease the pain like she always does, and a startled huff leaves his lips.

“I need a drink.” He mumbles to himself before making his way to the bar and leaning against the counter. “Red wine.” Midgardian alcohol did not affect him in the slightest, but he had found he quite liked the taste of it after a late night draining a bottle with her on the roof of the compound. Ever since then, he had imagined what her lips would have tasted like with the wine lingering on them.

“Here you are sir.” The bartender hands him the glass, startling him out of his rapidly spiraling train of thought. Loki shakes his head as if to clear the thought away and takes a large sip of his drink, his eyes beginning to once again search for her. 

Several glasses and many awkward attempts at conversation later, and Loki feels himself becoming increasingly more frustrated at her lack of attendance. He thinks that maybe she could not find a suitable outfit for the challenge and decided to just bail, but that thought causes a sting in his heart. No, he thinks. She wouldn’t abandon me like that. 

The band begins to play a slow, sultry waltz and Loki turns to the bartender to order his sixth glass of wine. It is at this moment, with his back turned to the entrance that he hears a call of her name accompanied with a loud whistle from Sam Wilson. 

“My lady! You look absolutely stunning!” Thor’s loud voice echoes through the ballroom, and every guest snaps their head in the direction of the noise. Unlike the hoards of people in the room, Loki takes his time turning his head to her, almost as if he’s preparing himself for the sight that awaits him. And when his eyes finally lock on her figure, he knows that no amount of time could have prepared him. 

She walks into the ballroom gracefully, the silky emerald dress clinging to her body in the most flattering way, her curves being perfectly hugged by the soft fabric. A long slit in the skirt starting at the floor and ending at her upper thigh leaves little to the imagination and perfectly accentuates her leg. The emerald color of the dress matches his own signature green to perfection, and he has to focus on keeping the heat in his cheeks and the spark of pride that goes straight from his heart down to his groin at bay. 

“Oh Norns…” Loki breathes out quietly. Her eyes search the crowd for him, and once she finds him a large, proud smirk falls upon her colored lips, lips that are the same color as the wine he so desperately wants to taste on them. She begins gliding towards him like some kind of seductive goddess, and despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to wipe the look of awe off of his face. 

“Hello Loki.” Even her voice seems to draw him in, and she continues approaching until they’re standing toe to toe, only a breath apart. Her eyes scan him up and down, taking in the perfectly tailored black suit (although he’s beginning to worry that his trousers may be too tight) along with the cinched green corset vest.

“You look good.” She praises softly, another dangerous smirk accompanying her lips as she raises up on her tiptoes and whispers right by his ear, “I look better.” 

And he couldn’t agree more, but for some reason, his normal witty remarks seem to be stuck in the back of his throat. He only watches her with unrestrained admiration like he’s looking at a beautiful work of art, before holding his hand palm up. 

“Dance with me,” he manages to say in a steady voice, though it takes all of his willpower to do so. A bright, genuine smile lights up her face, one that nearly knocks him off his feet as she slides her hand into his. 

“It would be my honor.” She giggles before turning and dragging him onto the dance floor, the sensual waltz still playing. She turns to face him again and raises a hand to rest it on his shoulder as he slowly slides his along her waist to rest it on her lower back. He takes her right hand in his left and begins gliding across the floor with her to the music. She lets out a nervous chuckle, and although she’s not a bad dancer, it’s clear she’s having a hard time keeping up with his well practiced steps.

“Sorry-” she starts to apologize, but she’s cut off by her own yelp of surprise when he wraps his arm tighter around her waist and lifts her up until her feet are standing on his toes. The two of them waltz effortlessly now, dancing across the floor so smoothly, it’s as if they are floating just above the ground.

“Better?” He asks softly, a joyful glint in his eyes. She nods in response, and looks up at him with the same bright smile. With their bodies pressed together, hand in hand, chest to chest, it’s almost as if their heartbeats become one, the rhythms intertwining with the sound of the band and the blossoming of a feeling so intense it makes Loki forget they are surrounded by people watching their every move. 

“So… I win right?” The question pulls Loki out of his thoughts and he lets out a deep, genuine laugh, a sound so rare for him but one so commonly associated with her now. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, I believe you did.” She smiles triumphantly and lets out a laugh of her own.

“I better have. This dress was ridiculously expensive.” He chuckles at her and shakes his head, his eyes once again scanning her figure and her features with a myriad of emotions in the deep green depths. 

“My darling, it is not the dress that has won you this victory.” His eyes trail up to hers, pausing for a few moments too long on her wine red lips. She holds his gaze, her lips parting and her cheeks flushing at his comment. They fall into a silence as they stare at each other, the band beginning to play a different song but neither of them seem to notice. Loki stops waltzing, instead only swaying with her in his arms as his face leans closer to hers.

“You- I don’t-” She stammers over her words and laughs weakly at herself as they both move closer, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. Her eyelids are hooded as she breathes out, “I want to kiss you.”

That’s all it takes for Loki to press his lips firmly to hers, months of pining and desperate attempts at silent confessions pouring into the kiss. His arm tightens around her waist and her hand moves from his shoulder to his hair, tugging gently at the raven strands and pulling a growl from his throat. They kiss until she has to pull back for air, a happy giggle leaving her no longer perfectly painted lips.

“Took you long enough.” Loki finally opens his eyes at the statement and lets out a breathy laugh. 

“Took me long enough? I feel as though I have been very apparent in my desires.” He quirks a brow at her and smirks, sure that there are marks of her lipstick on his lips and the thought makes his head spin.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, using her thumb to wipe some of her lipstick from his bottom lip. “Sure you were.” He silently takes in her flushed cheeks and soft smile, studying her with a gentle love, but also with something much deeper, something more hungry. 

“So, green’s mine now, right?” She tilts her head and smiles innocently at him. He chuckles darkly, his grip on her waist tightening as he presses her even tighter to his lithe figure.

“Oh hardly. Perhaps this was only an excuse to see you in my color.” He hums out in a low voice, and with the hand he has on her back he can feel the shiver that runs down her spine. “But… perhaps I could be persuaded to allow it to be our color, yes?”

“Persuaded how?” She asks, her voice barely above a whisper, but their close proximity allows Loki to hear her perfectly. He responds at first with another dark chuckle, moving so his lips are right by her ear in a way that mirrors what she did earlier as he responds in a deep whisper. 

“I’ll show you.”

a/n: this is the first fanfic i’ve ever posted aahhh! i hope you liked it! feedback would be GREATLY appreciated. this is unedited and probably has a few errors haha sorry about that. i’m considering writing a second (smutty) part to this so let me know if i should~ oh and, here’s a link to the corset vest i imagined loki in, but feel free to imagine it any way you’d like. https://innovacorsetry.com/products/corset-vest

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x reader #first fic #loki smut #avengers #everyones alive bc i said so #bucky barnes #thor odinson #sam wilson #tony stark #new fanfic #pining #are we about to kiss #green green dress #loki is a simp

[writeforfandoms]

I’m glad you liked my little forced raven shifter bit I was worrying it was too long 😅 (also idk why I’m using a raven for this, I just really like birds) 🫧 also I am really sorry about this rant again but it is 2am I can’t sleep and 🦐 struck gold here

It’s Price who extends the olive branch first. The bear shifter sees how crooked the new edition is, and reads her files to see that anything regarding her being a shifter is redacted. Laswell informs him that she is a forced shifter and he keeps it quiet.

He sees her as a little baby bird, isolated and struggling to understand her foreign body and new instincts. He leaves her a coffee every morning, which she seems to appreciate, but the perches he had installed around base go unused and he finds his peace offerings right where he left them at the end of the day. He’s confused, but undeterred, and decides to leave it for a while and see if she settles in herself.

It’s Gaz who tries next. He’d been a little unsettled at first, bristling when she first stepped onto base, but he soon came to the conclusion that even though she was… different, so we’re the rest of them. He paid attention to what she would eat and tried to fix her a plate, but she pushed him away and stopped turning up to the mess hall. That one hurt, and he didn’t understand why she wasn’t abiding by normal etiquette, but he talked to Price and decided to try being a little less pushy, instead offering her to join him on runs and sticking near her during training.

Soap has always been the most outgoing of the ragtag pack. When she arrived, he ignored her strange scent and wary stares and tried to throw an arm around her shoulder but she’d just jumped away and stared at him like a deer in headlights, fighting the urge to either tilt her head or peck him with a beak that wasn’t even there. Even after a couple of weeks she was still recoiling at him and while he was confused, he shrugged it off with a simple “it’s alright, Hen, I don’t bite” and a smile that showed too many teeth.

Ghost was a faceless operative with no trace of a backstory and an even less polite disposition. He wasn’t scared of her when she arrived, simply staring her down with stony eyes and squinting when she pushed Johnny away. He picked up immediately that she wasn’t normal, but wasn’t particularly phased. Her clinical scent wasn’t worse than being buried alive, after all. Despite this, Ghost was still a cheetah, known for being wary and skittish. He kept his distance, and didn’t say anything when she kept rolling her shoulders like she was ruffling wings or reaching to preen phantom pin feathers. He got used to her quickly, and while he was a little cautious of how detached and uncomfortable she was and how she would never shift, he did his best to respect her boundaries and stop Soap from tackling her in the mornings.

It came to a head when one morning, Soap decided to pull a harmless prank on their new edition. If he knew what would have happened, he would never have done it, but when he jumped out at her on a random Thursday morning, he wasn’t expecting the sound of bones snapping and flesh tearing followed by a screech. In her place, instead of a person in military gear, Johnny saw a pile of clothes with a raven sat atop it, screaming at the top of its avian lungs.

Then he saw it.

Her eyes were too large, her feathers were ruffled and covered in stress bars, and she was limping on normal foot and another with only two claws. He felt awful, but the damage had been done, and he was being pulled back by the collar by Ghost and Gaz was running to get Price. The raven made for the closest cover, underneath a cabinet they were all too big to get under, not trusting her wings to take her away.

It took Price the best part of half an hour to coax her out with soothing words and treats, and when she did finally hop into his hand he handed her a tab from a can, which confused her. Why did this trash seem like treasure? Why did she want it so much? He used her confusion to gently pet her head and start picking at the itchy keratin sheaths on her new feathers. He sighed, the little bird didn’t even know how to take care of herself.

At that point, the 141 took her in, vowing to work through her fears and teach her everything she needed to know.

MY HEARTTTTTTT

Okay but this right here is It. This is how it would go. Especially with a made raven? She's fighting so hard against her instincts and she's itchy all the time and she's so uncomfortable in her own skin that she has trouble connecting to people.

You are so absolutely spot on with these though, how each of them would act and react.

Price trying to give her treasure is so damn sweet I swear. Just. My heart can't take this it's so gooooooood

#🫧 anon #shifter au

[after-witch]

I Never Could Tell You [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: I Never Could Tell You [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: You met Marie in a coffee shop, watching her glance anxiously every time the door opened. As if she was expecting someone to come in at any moment, and that expectation terrified her. 

Word count: 5158

notes: yandere, mentions of torture and violence, kidnapping

You met Marie in a coffee shop, which is cliche as anything, but you’ve never minded cliches. She was mousy looking (not unusual, in a coffee shop frequented by university students) with a generic hoodie and pants; a large backpack was tucked between her legs, and she nursed a small black coffee like it was a lifeline. Also not an unusual sight in a coffee shop packed with university students pulling all-nighters or waxing philosophical to themselves about where their lives were going to go.

What was unusual was the way that she kept anxiously looking up every time the door opened, like she was expecting someone… and was terrified of that expectation.

It made you curious. Was she nervous about a date, maybe? Or meeting up with a tutor about some upcoming exam? But no. She seemed too genuinely scared for that. Gradually, your mind compared her to a rabbit. A little rabbit with a twitching nose and no sense of self-preservation other than making sure a predator wasn’t making a beeline for her hutch.

You would have normally turned away and ignored her. Minded your own business. You didn’t make it a habit to put your nose in anyone’s business, lest they think you were interested in becoming lifelong buddies, and you liked it that way. But something about her begged to be… comforted. Protected, maybe. Sure, she might get clingy like others tended to get around you, but you’d never seen her before--and it would have been easy enough to shake her off in the midst of a crowded university setting.

It wouldn’t hurt to comfort a person one time, you reasoned, back then. And yes, that prim little voice inside you had spoken up, even as you stood out of your seat and made your way towards her. Comforting a worried stranger was exactly the sort of thing that made people clingy around you, the little voice had said. You’re going to regret this.

But you’d ignored that voice, and sat down across from her, and asked her if she was all right. She looked startled, then worried, and then as you started up a casual conversation to get her mind off the door, there was a sort of faint relieved smile that grew on her lips. It made her look prettier.

“Can I buy you something better than a black coffee?” You asked.

She hesitated. And then that smile was paired with a faint blush. It was endearing.

“Okay,” she said. Her voice had been so soft, hoarse. Like she didn’t use it very often.

It made you even more curious.

Then, the door opened, and she’d practically jerked in her seat before glancing around you to see who it was. You turned. Some random guy with a baseball cap and a girl on his arm. You had slowly turned around to face her, and that look of shameful anxiety on her face made something in your chest twist.

The prim little voice in you was flailing their arms, but you waved it aside.

It wouldn’t hurt to make one friend, would it?

You waved at one of the baristas and beckoned them over to take your order. She stared down shyly at her cup, and so you ordered one of your favorite drinks for her, and then shifted your chair so that she could still see the door without having to look around you.

“So,” you asked, putting on a smile that you know went so far with others. “Where are you staying?”

--

You’ve never been surprised that Marie gravitated towards you easily after that first day in the coffee shop. Everyone does. Even though you don’t let them in--why should you, when the best person to rely on is yourself? But they still come to you, reaching, wanting to integrate themselves into the gravitational pull that has surrounded you for as long as you can remember.

And, for as long as you can remember, you’ve held such people at strict arm’s length. You prefer to be alone, based on previous experiences, and based on simple logic.

That is, until Marie.

You don’t know exactly when you went from viewing her as yet another reacher to viewing her as a friend. No, more than that. A good friend, a close friend. Someone you’ve grown to care about and look after.

Once, through the grapevine, you found out that some people likened your newfound interest in Marie to someone taking a shine to a new pet.

It was true that you took her under your wing quite quickly, especially given your previous abhorrence to strong connections. It was also true that you let her move into your apartment after only a few weeks, but once you found out she was staying in cheap motels, changing them frequently for unknown reasons, you couldn’t let her continue on like that. Could you?

You certainly didn’t view her as a pet. Far from it. Sometimes you felt like a big sister, or at least, what books and movies told you that an older sibling might feel like. It was your job to make sure Marie was getting on the right path, making something more of herself and her life.

You’re still working on that. You want her to consider applying for university, or at least signing up for a few classes. So far, she’s uncharacteristically refused your suggestions, which she normally agrees to after a bit of convincing. If it’s about money, you’ve told her, you’ll figure something out. But she always shakes her head and nibbles on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she falls back on now and then. So you hum, and drop it, and save the conversation for a later date.

You’ll convince her eventually. She just needs more time.

Maybe you are a bit pushy with her sometimes, maybe a bit domineering. But it’s because she’s so… soft and fragile, so unsure of herself. And you, established and experienced and intelligent, know what’s best for her, and she accepts your guidance with ease. The fact that she so readily agrees is what solidifies your choice to steer her in the right direction.

If she doesn’t mind the help, why should you?

Of course, it is curious. Most people would hate being steered around, even by someone like you. So why does she seem almost relieved by your direction? It’s yet another thing you find interesting about her Sometimes, the little prim voice inside you chides you for thinking things like that. What, is she a lab experiment, to be studied and picked apart? And no, you’d never call her that… but you want to know more about her. You want to know more of her.

You don’t question her apparent need to be guided directly. You couldn’t. You know her well enough by now to know that she hates being asked blunt questions and any answers she might give would be so vague and guarded that they would be useless. Instead, you make comments, here and there, letting her know that you’ve noticed her behavior. In time, she’ll bring it up herself.

And eventually, she did. One day, quietly, in the middle of eating lunch, she told you that she had an abusive family; that they sometimes followed her from place to place, and that’s why she was so nervous that first day in the coffee shop, why she’s afraid to settle down.

She’s afraid that everything will be taken away from her. She’s afraid that she isn’t good enough to be on her own. She’s afraid they’ll find her.

It makes sense. Looking back, you noticed Marie had telltale signs of being in some sort of abusive relationship. The quietness, the way she  kept her arms crossed over her chest in group settings, the way she sometimes lied to you about little things (her family, where she grew up, what she’s been doing for the past few years) and froze when you called out the inconsistency in her story.

If anything, it makes you more inclined to protect her.

--

Marie watches you cooking in the kitchen quietly, knees tucked up to her chest, sitting comfortably on the couch in your apartment. Or should it be considered her apartment, too? She isn’t sure. You would be sure, if she asked you.

Maybe that’s why she wants to stay with you. You’re so much like him, in some ways. Oh, you’re not cruel. You’ve never killed anyone. You don’t lock her up in your apartment and refuse to let her leave.

But you’re like him in other ways. Nicer ways. You’re smart and confident and you seem to know what she wants and needs even before she does, sometimes. Your smile can make her heart flutter or disarm her, easing her anxiety with a comforting expression.

Watching you now, bustling around the kitchen, humming as you cook up one of her favorite dishes, yes--you remind her of him.

Something curdles in her stomach, despite the delicious smell in the air.

She… she should tell you the truth. All of it. She should tell you, because the situation she’s in is so much more dangerous than you could ever realize. You could be killed… no, actually, an instant death would be a mercy.

God in heaven knows. After the first time Marie escaped from him--it wasn’t for more than a day--Chrollo tortured the gas station attendant who’d unwittingly given her a ride into town. It was unnatural. It was horrific. He begged for death, and didn’t get it until Chrollo was satisfied that she’d learned her lesson. If she dares to run, anyone that helps her will face the consequences.

What would Chrollo do if he found out about you? You sheltered her, and cared for her; the two of you shared intimacies, cuddling on the sofa, exchanging ideas. Mostly, she let you talk, but you still coaxed her thoughts out of her sometimes, so sweetly, guiding and strong.

If Chrollo found you (when, a voice inside her says, WHEN) you could get hurt. Worse than hurt. For a moment, the image of you in unimaginable, agonizing pain flashes through her eyes. She has to tell you, sooner rather than later.

But…

She can’t. She curls her arms around her knees and tucks her chin on top of them. If she tells you, you might kick her out. You might run far away. And then she’ll have no one.

She’ll be alone again. Facing the world, on the run, looking over her shoulder at every turn, always terrified that one day she’ll turn around and there he’ll be, ready to grab her. She doesn’t want that--more than anything, she doesn’t want to be alone again.

--

It’s a boring job, to say the least. Yet Feitan is nothing if not loyal to Chrollo and the Troupe, and if that means having to stifle yawns while spying on his escaped little girlfriend (though, he figures, she would not accept that moniker so readily) then so be it.

At first, he wondered why Chrollo didn’t simply have him slice a line through the university students and nab her, quick and easy. But then he remembers the times that he’s lamented some victim giving in too soon, and perhaps he understands why Chrollo doesn’t simply get it over with the easy way. It’s not always the achievement that satisfies, but the build-up.

The girlfriend--Marie--is predictable. She wears nondescript clothes and never goes out alone anymore. You’re always with her, sometimes an arm around her shoulder, or holding her hand, as she follows along like a puppy. Is that why she clung to you? Because you were her guardian, her protector?

More than once, Feitan has seen the way you’ve looked out for her. Helped her breathe through a panic attack in a public space, or gently coaxed her into sitting with you in a study group, though she wasn’t part of the class. He’s seen the pepper spray you gifted her, he watched, smirk on his face, as you took her out to the park and taught her out to use it. Once, he overheard you suggesting that Marie take self-defense classes, because it might help her feel safer walking around.

It’s funny.

Because you have no idea how dumb all of those things are, how fragile, how pointless. You have no idea just how simply everything you do for Marie will mean nothing once Chrollo gives the green light.

Under ordinary circumstances, your advice would be sound--practical and helpful, even. But these aren’t ordinary circumstances, and the men who will be coming to take Marie aren’t going to be put off by some stupid spray or an elbow-jab taught by a middle-aged woman wearing a whistle around her neck.

Feitan wonders… what might happen if Chrollo decides to grab Marie when you were there. In the apartment or perhaps while the two of you are on an evening walk.

Would you cry? Would you fall on your knees? Would you beg for your life, swearing you wouldn’t tell anyone what you saw? That’s what most people did, when they encountered the troupe. If they even had the time to speak such words.

At first, his response might have been yes; surely you’d crumble like everyone did, weeping, whimpering.

The more he sees of you though, the more he observes, he must admit that he’s had to reconsider. He’s never seen you so much as flinch. Not when drunk students harass you. Not when some punk on a bike decides pretending to run you over is apparently a hilarious joke. Not when Marie is melting down in your apartment after seeing a news channel report of the Troupe’s most recent heist and you’re calmly guiding her through it, confused as to her reaction, but calm, steady, focused.

How might you react, then, when Feitan is in front of you? It’s strange to admit, but he finds himself hoping Chrollo does choose a time when you’re around. He wants to see how you’ll react.

“Anything else?” Chrollo asks, hand on his chin. He’s looking over the photographs Feitan took of the pair of you--Marie, tentatively smiling in most of them, while you look on with composed patience.

Feitan shakes his head, but then he reconsiders. He tells Chrollo about his recent observations of you. About your composure, the way you worked Marie through her recent panic, about the times that people have messed with you and you’ve simply side-stepped them with ease. He even tells Chrollo about the flock of people who want to be around you, about the way you disarm their neediness with smiles and coolness, all the fine little details he’s picked up in the weeks he’s been watching the two of you.

Chrollo idly flips through the photos while he speaks, finally commenting when Feitan has come to the end of his thoughts.

“You seem quite interested in her, Feitan. May I ask why?”

Feitan considers this. And then he shrugs, easy, light.

“... Curious. That’s all.”

Chrollo hums.

--

Every Friday is movie night in your apartment. Traditional movie nights weren’t something you did before Marie moved in, but you think the routine is good for her. Besides, you get to introduce her to your favorite films, and it’s nice to have someone to discuss them with afterwards.

As usual, Marie is snuggled on the couch with your favorite blanket, balancing the snacks you’ve put together on a tray between the two of you. The movie is one you enjoyed a few years ago, a light action comedy without high stakes and with just enough laughs to keep things from being too overblown.

Marie’s been in an odd mood, lately, and you wanted something that might lift her spirits a bit. A good movie usually helped. Great snacks didn’t hurt, either.

As the film begins, you glance at Marie. She’s tentative, watching the film with eyes just a bit too wide;  clutching the blanket just a bit too hard. You want to frown, but don’t. Instead, you offer her a gentle smile when she looks at you.

“Hey, did you think any more about signing up for some classes this month?” You ask. You keep your tone light, inquisitive. You don’t want to put any pressure on her.

To your surprise, she doesn’t shake her head right away, as she normally does. Instead she brings her finger to her mouth, blanket in tow, and nibbles on the edge of her nail.

“Maybe…” she says, and your smile grows just a bit wider, just a bit more encouraging.

“Yeah?” You reach for a handful of popcorn and shove it in your mouth. “What class has your eye? Children’s Literature? Astronomy? Biology?” All were courses you’d caught her circling in the book you gave her a few weeks ago.

She drops the blanket and reaches for popcorn herself, taking only a few pieces that she chews delicately before answering.

“Maybe… astronomy? Since the classes go outside, and the weather will be nice this semester.”

You smile, you really do, because you’re glad that she’s taking this next step. It’s not the full-fledged program that you wanted her to consider, but one class is a start. Warmth blooms in your chest, a satisfied contentment building there. Irritation at the occasional gossip that found its way to you long forgotten, the prim warning voice inside your head tossed aside. You were making a difference in her life, and you’d keep doing so for as long as you were together.

“That’s great. If you want, I can help you sign up for them tomorrow. We can go to the coffee shop afterwards and--”

You can’t finish your sentence, because in that next moment, every single nerve in your body fires off hot red warning signals.

Someone is in your house. Someone is standing behind you. Someone who speaks, voice calm, low, almost melodic.

“It would be quite pointless to sign up for classes, my dear, as you’ll be leaving here tonight.”

Everything moves in slow motion, as it often does in your moments of great panic. Beside you, Marie freezes, a strangled cry unlike any you’ve ever heard coming out of her throat.

Your own heart is thrumming, fast, hard. But you don’t lose it. You never have, and you won’t start now.

You stand, slowly, hand reaching for your phone on the side table.  Calling for emergency services is the first step, even if this man threatens you, you can still get them on the line and--

The phone is knocked away in an instant--no, not knocked away, but sliced in half. The silvery gleam of a sword draws your eyes and you follow it, finding the source--a man wearing black clothes, his face covered in a cowl, standing next to a taller man wearing a suit.

Inside, you’re screaming. Shaking. Wanting to grab Marie and get out. But that won’t help in a situation like this, and no matter how terrified you get, your body forces itself to remain calm.

“Who are you?” You ask. If they care that your voice is steady instead of shaking, they don’t show it.

You glance at Marie, and see that she’s crammed her fingers in her mouth, rocking herself back and forth, murmuring--”No, no, no, no, no…”

“You can’t be here,” you say. As you speak, you back up towards Marie. You grab her hand and pull it. She follows, obediently, standing up and pressing herself against your back. “You need to leave right now. If you leave now,” and you wonder how ridiculous this sounds, to say this so calmly, so sure, “then I won’t call the police.”

The shorter man snorts, but the man in the suit doesn’t even acknowledge you. He cranes his head, looking at Marie, whose trembles are so violent that they shake your own body.

“Hello, dear. Aren’t you going to greet me? It’s been ages, after all.” He smiles, and for some reason, it makes you feel sick to your stomach. “I’ve missed you.”

“Go away!” Marie shrieks, and you cringe from the sudden loud noise. “I don’t want you hear, Chrollo, go away go away go away--”

“Stop it,” you say, reaching behind you and gripping her hand.  You squeeze hard. “You need to stay calm.” Like me, you think. Just do what I do, and we’ll be okay. But looking at these men, their calm demeanor, the way he greeted Marie… you’re not so sure.

You glance around, looking for something to use as a weapon.

The shorter man sees this and snorts again.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and you feel a rush of offended heat in your cheeks. He seems uncannily astute when it comes to your movements. It’s almost like he can hear what you’re thinking.

But he’s right. The man has a sword at his side. And who knows what weapons the other is hiding. You don’t stand a chance, at least not in a fight, not right now.

“What do you want?” Despite the warnings going off in your head, you’re still thinking, calculating. If you can get them talking, perhaps you can slowly edge the pair of you towards the front door. If you can make even just a few feet, there’s sure to be someone else outside, and you’ll be safe within their numbers.

The taller man--Chrollo, going by Marie’s designation--doesn’t even look at you as he speaks. A particularly loud action sequence in the film begins, and he looks down, annoyed, until he finds the remote control. The volume is muted quickly.

“I’m collecting what’s mine.”

You take a step, just a small one, towards the door. Marie stumbles, but then shuffles with you. A few more feet, and you have a chance. Maybe.

But then Chrollo reaches into his jacket, and your chest freezes tight. He’ll pull out a gun, probably. Maybe a knife. Whatever it is, you’ll just have to make a run for the door without a moment of hesitation.

And then you see what he pulls out and you can’t help the way your face scrunches in confusion, or the way your movements simply cease in bafflement.

He’s holding a book. A large one, old fashioned, with a dark cover.  

What in the world? You start to turn your head towards Marie, to see how she’s holding up, but then there’s something. Something in the air, heavy and oppressive. It makes you want to scream. Behind you, Marie groans into your back, terrified.

You hear him murmur something, words that don’t sound like words, and now… you can’t move. Why can’t you move?

You struggle to move your limbs. Your arms, your legs, your head. Your eyes, even, if you could just blink. But you can’t. You can’t do anything but watch as this man approaches the two of you. He reaches behind you and grabs Marie’s arm, and you can do absolutely nothing as he drags her away from you.

She struggles against him, and you want to shout, want to tell her to elbow and kick and scream. You can’t. And it doesn’t matter. Because all he does is whisper something in her ear and she goes limp.

“There we are,” he says. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, dearest. Stand there for me, would you?”

Marie simply stands next to him, sniffling, wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. She’s shaking so hard that it scares you.

The man opens the book again and in a moment, you can move. Your body feels like jelly and you fall to the ground, limp and useless.

“What… what happened?” You ask. Was it some kind of drug? A nerve agent he released in the air, maybe? The explanations sound stupid. It was the book, somehow. It was the book. From the floor, you stare up at the men. Your eyes flit to the shorter man, who’s simply watching you, expression obscured by the cowl in front of his face. His eyes narrow with interest and you look away.

Chrollo tucks the book away--where, you don’t see--and crouches down in front of you, acknowledging you directly for the first time. “Marie hasn’t been very forthcoming, has she?”

You glance at Marie and see something in her red-rimmed eyes. Guilt. Shame. But why would she…?

“She gave you quite the story about why she was on the run, or so I heard.” His expression is thoughtful and amused. “It wasn’t quite the truth, I’m afraid. Do you know who I am?”

You shake your head. Everything feels heavy and strange. Part of you wishes you would just tremble and cry, like Marie, but you can’t. It’s just not your nature. Instead, you steady your breathing and try to focus on surviving this situation.

“My name is Chrollo.” He pauses, and lets the name breathe. “Have you heard of the Phantom Troupe?”

And oh… you have. Everyone has, haven’t they? If they aren’t living under a rock. If they turn on the news now and then. A mysterious Troupe known for extravagant heists that often ended with rivers of blood.

The knowledge sinks in the air and weighs you down. You feel sick. Popcorn refluxes back into your throat, and you swallow it down. This man after Marie was part of that Troupe?

Just what the hell did Marie get you into? Why didn’t she tell you? Why did she let you be her friend, knowing… knowing this was who was after her? Not some shitty relatives that might be fended off with pepper spray and shouts in the street, but a fucking international criminal who could do things like freeze your limbs with words from a book?

Tears sting your eyes, matching the stinging, tight feeling of betrayal that has grown in your chest. You let her in, and she hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, a pathetic, keening sound from above you. She is, you can tell that she is. But it doesn’t make this any less terrifying.

You swallow, tasting bile, tasting bitterness, tasting your own fear.

“What’s going to happen now?”

You glance up again at the shorter man, still holding his sword. You can’t help the way your eyes dart down to the sharp blade. It cut so easily through the phone. Just how easily would it cut through you?

“I’m considering that,” Chrollo says, face too close to yours for comfort. And then he stands and approaches Marie, who shakes, but otherwise stands there as she was told to do.

He grasps her chin in his fingers and tilts it up. You’re surprised to see the ghost of a glare in her eyes, feeble though it is. He must notice it, because he scoffs, smiling lightly.

“You’ve been quite the nuisance, dear. All this time and energy wasted on tracking you down, monitoring your movements. I even had to bring Feitan into it, and really, he could be doing better things.”

Feitan. That must be the other man’s name, then.

Does that information matter? Your mind prods you. Don’t just sit there like a lump. While he’s talking to Marie, he’s clearly distracted, isn’t he? You could get up, you could run, you could help--

“Won’t work.”

The shorter man--Feitan, you remind yourself--is staring down at you. He looks amused. You shiver, despite yourself, under the weight of it. How does he seem to know your thoughts? What little hope you had in making an escape while they were distracted deflates and you’re left with nothing to do but watch and worry.

Chrollo, still holding Marie’s chin, gestures his head towards Feitan. The man finally looks at something that isn’t you, regarding Chrollo with an unreadable thought in his eyes.

“After all that, Feitan deserves to be rewarded, don’t you think?”

Marie’s face twists in confusion and then something dawns on her expression that you wish you didn’t see, because you don’t understand exactly what it means. You just know it for what it is--horror.

“No,” she says, voice husky, desperate. “Please.  I’m sorry. I won’t, I won't run again, just please don’t--”

He thumbs her cheek, hushing her, wiping away her tears.  “There’s no point in arguing. I’ve made my decision. It’s only fair.”

Something seems to buzz between Chrollo and Feitan, an acknowledgement, an agreement--and it’s terrifyingly electric.

“You may keep her, as discussed.” Chrollo jerks his chin towards you and it takes a few horrible, slow seconds to recognize that he’s talking about you. This man is going to keep you.

Feitan grins. You think he does, anyway. You can’t see his lips, no, but you see the way his eyes crinkle. “Thanks, boss.”

Now. Now is the time to scream and run and kick and fight and do all the things you always told Marie to do, in situations like this. But you feel like you’re glued to the ground. What can you do in a situation like this, when a man with a magical fucking book and another man with a sword are standing in front of you?

Marie is sniffling now, shaking her head, murmuring low, pitiful pleas. You want her to do something about this, but then you realize it’s always been you who did things like that. Took charge. Changed things. Made it better.

Chrollo pays her crying no mind, and instead tucks her close to him, keeping his shoulder around her in a grip that you suspect is firm and unyielding. He regards Feitan with a calm expression.

“I trust you can bring yours back on your own?”

You watch as Feitan tucks his sword into a belt, and it should make you less worried, but the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to use a weapon when taking you only makes every hair on your body stand on end.

“No problem.”

He steps towards you, and your body forces you to finally get up from the floor. There’s something akin to molasses in your limbs, making you feel slow and heavy. You’re terrified out of your mind, but you want to be standing for whatever is about to happen, not prone underneath him.

You dimly hear Chrollo talking to a weeping Marie as he walks her towards the back of your shared apartment, but the sound feels distant, dimmed in your ears. You can only make out one sentence clearly. “Perhaps you can think about her the next time you plan to run, my dear.”

You want to still worry about Marie. Some part of you does, despite her betrayal, despite the agonizing fear gripping your heart.

But the other part, that little voice inside you, keeping its eye on the man slowly approaching you with a pleased look in his eyes, tells you to worry about yourself first.

#yandere feitan #yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes

[datawyrms]

Truce time!

Hi @noxposting :v you got me as your secret gift giver. You get fic this year, because art and I look at one another with wary stares until the other backs down. Hopefully you enjoy it? I tried to add bits of multiple prompts but :v crypid danny going to a coffee shop won out. mostly. heh. On Ao3

Barista. Not exactly the pinnacle of anyone’s career, heck, many would call it a low point. Not Valerie though. She knew the real pits of food based service, thanks. It didn’t even involve food! That hideous mascot outfit reeked worse than a dumpster on a warm summer evening on a GOOD day; and anyone that saw you managed to treat you WORSE than that! Which was probably the whole point, when you got ‘promoted’ to cash or the grill you’d actually feel grateful. Seeing your face sure didn’t stop everyone from being the worst human they can be, but enough were too cowardly to be as rotten when the threat of spitting in their food was right there.

It didn’t help with the looks about someone ‘young’ working at a burger place so ‘soon’, and the next time someone asked if she should be in school on a Saturday was getting a special side seasoning of knuckles. If she didn’t need the money, she wouldn’t be working!

So yeah, in short? Getting hired at a coffee shop was a major step up from the Nasty Burger. Like, who calls a place Nasty Burger? She might not be the biggest fan of coffee either, but at least she wasn’t reeking of grease and having weird sauce explosion nightmares anymore. (The training videos about the Nasty sauce were ridiculous, there was no way you could legally keep something that explosive and give it to people to eat, why so graphic?)

Sure, fewer people from school dropped by here, but that was sort of a plus too. Even if it wasn’t as embarrassing to be seen working once free of mascot duty, it still didn’t feel great to watch how everyone else in class got to have fun while she worked for peanuts. Having some easy ways to slack off and chat a bit on slower days was nice though. Usually only bored old ladies wanted to chat here, and not about anything remotely interesting. 

Sam Manson was the only person she’d recognized today, but she didn’t really count. Valerie didn’t know what the goth girl’s deal was, but she always acted like she was trying to ‘steal’ her friend. Which yeah okay, she did date Danny for a bit, but it’s not like Sam even tried to date him first! Having more friends or romantic interests wasn’t going to kill the guy, seriously. In her opinion, Sam was way more likely to hurt Danny than she was. Maybe Sam should look at herself instead of getting all weirdo over-protective. Whatever. At least she didn’t make the same old person joke every single customer thought she never heard before. Paid, got enough sugar for her drink to reasonably be considered a soft drink, and left her alone. Easy.

Valerie got back to cleaning up her work area, there wasn’t more for her to accomplish just staring at the sitting area. The bell at the door would let her know if she had to turn around.

Which it did, twenty minutes later. It wasn’t Sam leaving, but some new guy wanting an order. Normal. Except Sam wasn’t sitting alone anymore. When had Danny got here? It wasn’t with Sam- she saw her come in alone. At the same time as new customer guy? Only if he could teleport. Pretty sure the Fentons didn’t have a magic teleporter invented yet, or there’d be way more weird ghost hunter home invasions.

She wasn’t staring. She wasn’t. Took an order, made it, put the cash in the register all without staring at the weirdness of a suddenly appearing ex. Totally.

Danny didn’t even do coffee! Why would he be here? You’d think someone so constantly tired would at least try coffee for the caffeine kick- but he acted like she suggested he stick his tongue in a blender when she asked if that’s what he kept in his thermos one day. Kind of a weird overreaction, but that was just Danny. It was kind of cute in a way, like he needed big reactions to get noticed at all. Considering his family though… she could get it.

If there weren’t more customers coming she might have gone over and asked if he wanted anything. Even if Manson would have been catty about it. She wasn’t scary, just loud.

Mostly people going to join the first guy who ordered. Friends meeting up, probably. Did it matter? No, but thinking about it gave her something to do as her feet got sore and staring while cleaning got boring.

Nosy friends. Sam wasn’t happy, judging by the death glares. Like she wasn’t ever loud with Danny or Tucker. Sheesh.

“Hey Val, can I get a water?”

She blinked once, twice. Danny had not gotten to the counter that fast. Without even making a sound against the slick tile floor. Yet there he was, shy half grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck like he was asking for a big favour.

“Sure, but it’s gotta be in the dinky little cup. That alright?” It was a dumb policy, but that was jobs for you. What was he going to do with a coffee cup full of cold water, make ‘illegal tea’? Who cares?

“Totally. Thanks.” Danny’s grin grew, almost a bit too much for a guy getting a baby cup of tap water.

It was weird. The hairs on the back of her neck shouldn’t be acting up from Danny just being a bit of a goof over water. She forced the stupid feeling down as she handed over the drink and shook her brain back to reality. “No problem. Nasty Burger closed or something?”

“Nah. Tuck’s just grounded and Sam wanted to go somewhere that didn’t reek of cooking animals,” he said, adding playful air quotes to reek before taking the cup. “Those guys don’t seem like they’re locals, what do you think?”

“Listen, after like two hours you all look the same.” Valerie answered with an eye roll, earning another laugh from the boy. “I don’t think I’ve seen them here before though, no.”

“Elmerton, maybe?”

“Maybe? I don’t get paid enough to pay that much attention to them.” Valerie rubbed her forehead before looking at Danny again. Somehow he’d gotten even worse at making conversation! Who cares about some slightly noisy table group?

“We’d find out pretty quick if there was a ghost attack.”

Danny was joking, obviously, but it didn’t keep her from leaning over to hiss “Don’t you dare speak bad luck into my day, Fenton” under her breath.

“Okay, okay! I’m totally not doing that,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, but the easy smile stayed in place.

Sometimes she really wanted to strangle the stick of a boy. Ghosts weren’t funny! He knew that! Some were pathetic, but still not funny. “Good.”

Danny gave a little wave, nearly spilling the thimbleful of water that could fit in the sad little cup as he headed back to the looming thunderstorm that was Sam.

Maybe she was glaring as much as the goth was, she kept feeling the need to blink or rub at her eyes, but they didn’t feel dry. Weird. Her suit would warn her of any real danger from spectral pests, but she could do without randomly feeling really off for no reason.

Oh! She was just feeling weird because it wasn’t so loud anymore. That was all. The uncomfortable chill and too long shadows were just in her head. The noisy group kept looking around and fidgeting in their seats instead of just loudly saying everything and everything. Sam was comfortable enough, even if it looked like the light on her side of the room had died, leaving her and Danny lurking in shadows that kept creeping closer and closer to the other group- not literally.

She shook her head. She needed a break. Pushing back into the employee’s only section would give her a moment to drink some water and wake up before she started seeing things.

–

“Pushing it a bit? She totally almost caught you.”

“But she didn’t.” Danny pushed Sam’s comment away as he slid out of his seat. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to get ‘em to shut up a bit.”

“I did. You’re just being extra,” Sam rolled her eyes, watching the now quite cowed group of out-of-towners.

Danny gave a loose shrug, shoulders weirdly out of tune with the movement that should be all about them. “I’m hungry! No one local ever gets scared of easy stuff anymore,” his arm twitched as he spoke, a faint green twisting and twining through his skin. It seemed to thread through skin and muscle, pulsing and pulling bits from beneath before sliding back into smooth skin again, a secret no one was meant to really see.

Sam pointedly avoided looking at that arm. She didn’t try to tell him to be more careful again either.

Danny’s grin slid a bit too far to be comfortable on a human face before he moved closer to the group that kept looking for the door. “Hey. Did any of you guys see the light switch? It’s kind of dark here.”

It was dark in here. On a bright sunny day, with all the windows open. It shouldn’t be- but ghosts hardly cared about what ‘shouldn’t’ be. He wanted it to be dark- and his powers obliged. Eagerly, even. Happy, delighting that instead of squabbling and fighting with another ghost he was going to do what they were meant to do. Scare the daylights out of the living. Grab the feeling and emotion and life his own chest forgot how to feel some days. More and more often, lately.

“No? I-I didn’t really see anything.” The first person tried to answer back, failing to match Danny’s easy smile, leaning further back in his chair as Danny leaned forward, a tilt to his head.

“Really? Darn. Maybe one of you can help me out?”

It was funny. He was totally still ‘Danny Fenton’ right now, asking a very casual question in an easy way but everyone lurched back as if he asked to rip out their teeth. “I totally get it if you can’t though. I just have bad luck with switches.”

He reached out, arm twitching again in an awful, too loose way. Like he’d popped it out of his arm socket but it kept slowly reaching towards his target as it twisted and seemed to burn. Neon green scarring burst out from his fingertips and spread as he got closer and closer and flared into a painful glow as they screamed and tried to back away from him.

His friends didn’t do much better, scrambling away and abandoning their friend to the ‘terrifying thing’ casually just walking after him.

“What are you! Get back!”

Danny ignored the panicked pleading, only grinning as the others found the door to be locked. “Huh? I’m just a guy asking you for help?”

“No you aren’t! You-you-you’re some monster!”

His eyes flashed green as he put his twisted, burning, scarring arm to his chest. “A monster? Really?” The green scarring spread like the electricity that first caused it- the damage throwing his whole body into a sickly painful looking glow. “Is that what you see?”

His target tripped as he tried to escape, tangled in his own legs and shaking too much to really gain any ground even as Danny didn’t move above walking speed. “If I’m such a monster, how about you tell me how it feels?”

The shriek was enough to hurt his ears for a second as he reached forward and grabbed the unfortunate human, the rolling  green transferred over for only seconds before it leapt back to Danny, slowly fading back under his skin and taking all the horrific damage with it.

The doors had unlocked, letting all the others escape as he rocked on his heels, waiting for the one who’d passed out from sheer terror to get back up. It wasn’t as if he ACTUALLY felt how awful that day was. It was a fraction, a hint of his own memory. Not fatal. Just absolutely terrifying. 

“And Sam calls me dramatic.” Danny muttered, nudging them again with his foot before joining Sam back at the table. He could just say the others pranked him and left him if Valerie was annoyed at the unconscious person on the floor.

After all, it wasn’t as if any ghost was here. She’d know about an ‘attack’. He’d just gotten his own kind of snack.

#danny phantom #holiday truce 2023 #gift fic #phandom truce 2023

[why-what-no]

Dating Lucy Carlyle Would Include

Pairing: Lucy Carlyle x Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Requests are open

Lucy is the sweetest girlfriend, that’s all I’m going to say

You guys met during a mission. You were a Fitte’s agent, and while Lucy would normally be miffed that Lockwood and Co’s job was getting taken over, there was something about your genuine apologetic look that made her not mind it as much

When she went to bed that night, all she could think about was you fighting off that ghost with expert sword work

But she didn’t expect to see you that often, which was why she was so surprised when you “bumped into her” on the street outside of 35 Portland Row

The exact same way that Kipps did, which made sense since you were on his team

But the thing that was different was that she actually wanted to go out for coffee with you. Especially with how you didn’t even bring up trying to recruit her

You actually just wanted to spend time with her. So Lucy said yes, and you arranged a time and place

The date went wonderful, and Lucy couldn’t wait until the next one.

She was a little worried about getting close to you, not having such a connection with another person since Norrie. She didn’t know if she could bear having someone else to possibly lose.

But she sure is glad that she took a chance on you

It didn’t take long at all for the team to warm up to you, they loved you the moment they saw how happy you made Lucy

(the fact that you could give them intel from Fitte’s didn’t hurt either)

You’d spent a lot of time at Portland Row, in Lucy’s loft. Lying in bed together, talking about anything and everything

You’d train together in the basement, and she’d always say that there was nothing more attractive than you, breathing heavily and eyes sharp after a fight.

Lucy was a bit of a jealous partner, but you knew she meant well. You’d reassure her that she was the only girl who you loved, there was no one you wanted more than her.

She trusted you completely, she was just a bit insecure. But you always made her feel like she was the most special girl in the world

And her love did the same to you. She’s so protect and affectionate, her love for you shining brighter than the sun. Warming you more than that sun as well

You’d always call her “Sunshine”

Taglist: @dark-academia-slut @silverhart93 @witchthewriter

#Lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #Lockwood and co Headcanons #lucy carlyle x reader #lucy carlyle #lucy carlyle Headcanons #Lockwood and co lucy #Lockwood and co Lucy x reader #Lockwood and co lucy Headcanons #Lockwood and co lucy carlyle #Lockwood and co lucy Carlyle x reader #Lockwood and co Lucy carlyle Headcanons #George Karim #Anthony Lockwood #quill kipps

[bellaatmclaren]

The Battle of the Paddock

[Bella is a promising, young social media talent. She ends up in working with McLaren for their 2023 race season, but has she bitten off a little more than she can chew?]

Lando Norris/OC, Charles Leclerc/OC George Russell/OC

Bella was awake long before her alarm. This was the day that she had been waiting for, for her whole life. It was a dream come true… so why did she feel so terrified?

Bella was a girl from a town called Rochester, just East of London. She had grown up as a normal girl with an eye for photography and later, developed this passion into videography. Starting as a weekend help for local wedding photographers, she was able to start to build an impressive portfolio. Bella ended up being accepted into Queen Mary university to study social media marketing. This helped her combine her keen eye for photography with a way to make it profitable and build her career further. Don’t get it wrong, Bella did love photographing weddings, but she felt as though she could do more, and she had a dream.

Bella’s father was a passionate sports fan, especially when it came to Formula One. Growing up, Bella had always enjoyed sitting with her father on the weekends to watch the likes of Vettel and Button race for victory. She had fond memories of watching Sebastian Vettel become the youngest winner, racing for the pole position for Red Bull. Holding onto this memory fondly, Bella decided that she wanted to be there, in the paddock and photographing the drivers in their day-to-day activities, practicing on the tracks, celebrating on the podiums, and everything else in between.

One January day, Bella received an email that was almost too good to be true. She had been recently working with various companies, helping them build an online profile through the likes of Instagram and more recently the ever-growing TikTok app. The email was from McLaren, they had seen her online presence and they needed a new social media assistant manager for the next race season. They were inviting her to interview with them at her earliest convenience to pitch some ideas on how to build up awareness around their new car and drivers ready for the new season.

Bella stared at her phone in disbelief, she was potentially going to end up in the paddock, where she had always dreamt of being. Time passed and the interview came and went without a hitch. Bella, was offered the position which she immediately took. Bella had pitched several ideas to the McLaren team which they had loved.

***

Bella rolled over and checked her phone, 05:03. She sighed and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. She’d said goodbye to her father the day before and boarded a train to Woking so she wouldn’t have to make the journey the day of the meeting. McLaren had put her up in a small B&B just a few miles away from their HQ. They were to send a car to collect her at seven and that’s all she knew. She had no idea what the first day would contain, all she knew was that she needed to bring all her kits with her in case there were perfect photo opportunities.

Bella hopped into the shower, got herself dressed and presentable, and was down in reception for a quarter to seven ready to go. Normally, Bella would have killed for a coffee but she was already so wired on nerves, she thought this would probably make it all worse. She was shaking as it was, full of adrenaline.

Dead on seven, a black car pulled up out front and Jim Harris jumped out to greet her. Jim oversaw McLaren’s media outlets; he had been the one who had personally scouted and hired Bella. It was a cold February day, accompanied by wind and rain, not ideal shooting conditions but Bella knew the HQ had to be large enough that they’d find some great locations inside.

“Isabella, it’s so nice to finally meet you in the flesh,” said Jim cheerfully.

“You too Jim, but please, call me Bella” Bella said, extending her hand and shaking Jim’s firmly.

Jim couldn’t have been too much older than Bella. She was twenty-three, and Jim had to be in his late twenties at maximum. He had a youthful face and was dressed in his McLaren-branded soft-shell jacket.

“Jump in, we have so much to get through already today”.

He gestured to the open door of the car. Bella climbed in and they made their way to McLaren’s Technology Centre.

In the car, Jim made a pleasant conversation with Bella about her thoughts on her first day. He asked how she was feeling and was quite sweet, trying to calm her.

“Remember, it’s not fear, it’s excitement. At least that’s what Lando tells us before a race”

That’s when it hit her. She was going to meet the drivers, in real life. Not these small little figures she saw on her TV screen or online. They were real people, living their dreams and Bella was going to be rubbing shoulders with them any time soon.

“It isn’t nerves, it’s excitement” was what Bella held onto, mentally repeating it to herself the whole short, ten-minute drive to the offices.

The building itself was an impressive piece of architecture, a huge curved building, a semi-circle with the other half being replaced with a lake structure, from above it was a perfect circle. Jim gave her a brief tour of the floor she was to be based on. Bella had a small office space in the social media room. A desk, various laptops and computers, tablets, and lots of storage space.

“Make this into whatever suits you,” Jim said, waving his arm around the space, “whatever gets those creative thoughts flowing, but just remember there will be nine months of the year where we’re flying between here and various countries so best to make sure it’s all portable!”

After introductions between herself and the rest of the media team, Jim left her in the hands of Aria, an intern who had been with McLaren for the last season. Aria was young and funny, and Bella took an instant shine to her.

“Look at you! Your first day here, how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, I think. A bit apprehensive but I’m looking forward to it. I’m relaxed now I’m here and sat down,” Bella smiled.

“Honestly, you will have so much fun. McLaren is a great company to work for and I have loved every second. I just wish I could go out on the seasons and see the races in person.”

“You didn’t go last year?”

“No,” Aria sighed, “only the best in the team actually get flown out to spend their time there, and well, I’m still learning. I’m an intern so I’m not that valued. I do help a lot, I spend a lot of my time editing, writing captions, and posting but I’ve not taken any of the photos yet. But there’s still time!”

This made Bella nervous again. She didn’t know if she was going to be going out to Bahrain in late February, Jim hadn’t said either way and she hadn’t even thought about it. Maybe she wouldn’t even get to meet the drivers, just sit in her office sipping coffee and colour correcting others’ photos. Maybe when Jim had said it was one-on-one work, he meant just assisting with posting with one of the photographers, not the actual drivers.

After a few hours of Aria showing Bella around the office, and Bella showing Aria around her camera kit, Jim popped his head back around the door.

“Bella, could you come with me? You don’t need anything with you, just yourself is great.”

Bella followed him out in the corridor, and they started walking towards the lifts.

“Honestly Bella, I was so impressed with your portfolio that I wanted to kind of ‘chuck you into the deep end’, so they say” He pushed the button, to call the elevator. “We’ve decided to pair you up with someone special for this season, that’s if you’re willing to, and you get on well. I’m sure you will, it’s near on impossible not to with this one…”

They stepped into the elevator, and Bella’s mouth had gone dry. Who was he taking her to? And why did he look so smug?

She followed Jim down various corridors, stopping to say hello to the odd person here and there, occasional hasty introductions before being whisked off again down more of the maze. Finally, they came to another meeting room with glass walls. Bella could see there were others in the room but they had their backs to the glass. Jim opened the door.

“Bella, meet Lando Norris. You’ll be working with him closely this season, I hope.”

Lando Norris turned his head upon hearing his name and made eye contact with Bella. A huge smile broke across his face.

“Bella, it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve been waiting all day to find out about my new teammate. I hope you’re ready for some chaos!”

“Lando, less of the chaos. You’ll worry her before she’s even begun” Said Jim, as he turned to Bella “It’s not chaos, these lot can just be a bit unpredictable at times, it’s like herding cats, especially when it comes to this one.”

“I keep you on your toes, Jim, you love it really,” Said Lando playfully as he approached them.

Bella instinctively put her hand out to Lando, but he laughed.

“Bring it in for a hug, we’re practically family now”

Bella laughed nervously but gave Lando a brief hug. Jim left them alone to ‘get acquainted’ as he had put it. Bella was glad, she wanted to get to know Lando, what kind of material he wanted to produce, and how she could make this the best professional relationship she could. Her work head was firmly screwed on.

“So, Bella,” Lando said sitting at the table, “If we’re going to be traveling together, we’d better end up leaving this room as buddies”.

Bella smiled, Lando struck her as a super playful guy, especially from what she had seen on TV.

“I feel like that could be easily done, you just have to tell me what you want from me. What content do you want to put out there to your fans? What are we going for this year? Still your funny, approachable guy next door look or a more serious, mature version of Lando Norris?”

“I don’t want to be mature; I am happy where I am thanks. What are you trying to say about me?” Lando pulled a face.

“Oh no, I wasn’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Relax! I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I just want to have fun, I want them to see me as I am, none of this pouting and posing the other boys do. I mean, I can do a mean Max impression though, look.”

Lando sat back in his chair, crossed his arms, and scowled.

“Do not talk to me, I am world champion. I am Max Verstappen, I must win”.

He didn’t get much further without cracking up into laughter.

“Honestly, when you meet him, you’ll see what I mean. He’s so serious all the time. Since getting his title, he’s gotten all uptight. He needs to relax and just enjoy it all.”

“Don’t worry, because this year’s world champion will be you, I can feel it already” Bella smiled.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Let’s get this show on the road”.

#charles leclerc #formula 1 #george russell #mclaren #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris original character #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #pierre gasley #carlos sainz #f1 x reader

[footballffbarbiex]

player: Mats Hummels words: 963 request: Mats Hummels - no pref - 500 - 900 - Just them decorating the tree and being all cute in matching jumpers or pyjamas with lots of touching each other and him just looking at her like a lovesick fool because this man so fluffy i’m gonna die

“I’ll let you do the honours,” she says, holding out the star which needs placing at the top of the tree to him. 

“Why me?” he questions, stepping forward regardless and taking what she offers. 

“You’re tall.” she shrugs as he laughs. “And in my family, it was always  your favourite person who should be the one to put the topper on.” Being an only child helped stop the squabbling that could have been with siblings but it did make it awkward when it came to parents. She made it so that each year that it was her turn to give the tree topper, she would choose the other parent, always ensuring it was fair. 

“Oh really?” Mats questions as he slips an arm around her waist. While she wanted him in matching onesies, she was satisfied with the festive sweater that he’s pulled on for the occasion and would find herself looking over at him and smiling at the sight. He can come across as a grumpy old man, one who is incredibly serious, but times like these show her that other side of him which she gets to see more than others. ”Favourite person, hmmm?”

“Maybe.” She says as he presses a kiss to her temple and feels the little tickle that he rubs into her side. “So what if you are?” She watches as he turns the trinket over in his hand. 

It’s one they had picked out the year before and though it is a silly little nothing, it brings out a smile when she sees it. With last Christmas being their first together, it was lovely to see what Mats did and didn’t do traditionally. She learnt what made him smile and what movies he enjoyed watching, what he enjoyed eating around the festive period, did his coffee order change?

“I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite to do this.”

“Well, consider yourself chosen now.” She says, turning to look up at him. 

Normally, she’d never describe her boyfriend as “goofy” looking, but standing there awkwardly with his hand stuffed into the pocket of some comfortable joggers, a tree star in the other hand, and unruly hair from the shower this morning, he certainly looks the less well maintained version that she’s come to know and love. Thanks to the underfloor heating throughout his home, he has no need for slippers or socks, and so he pads barefoot over to the tree and pauses before he reaches up to place it. 

She finds herself chuckling as he struggles to get it to stay up straight, the faux tree branch refusing to stay in place and would lean thanks to the added weight of it. “Fucking thing,” he hisses and gives it up as a bad job. “That’s as good as it’s going to be.” he all but huffs and she forces her lips into a hard line to stop herself from grinning. This was another reason she wanted Mats to do it and not herself, she could never get it right either. “It’s not funny.”

“It is, a little.”

“Oh yeah?” Mats asks as he steps towards her again. There’s something in his expression as he takes another step. “Say it again.” He dares her. 

“Mats.” She says his name as a warning as she takes a step backwards when he takes one more towards her. Her hand slowly raises just enough for his gaze to flick to it, prompting her to lift a finger to gesture to him to stop. “Mats, I mean it.” She says once more when he takes another step. 

They stand staring at one another for a moment or two until he makes a false start and she stumbles backwards. “Run.” He whispers and she doesn’t need telling twice. She’s out of the room, hands desperately pulling the door closed as much as possible without her stalling before she’s off back down the hallway - but not before she hears him tearing it open and running after her. 

It was foolish to think that she could outrun a professional footballer but she tries, twisting and turning through the home until she reaches the bedroom. Before she can close the door, she glimpses him approaching, hand stretched out to stop her from closing it. She forces herself forward, but before she’s able to land on the bed, his arms are around her waist and forces the two of them to tumble onto the bedding. 

“Think you could run faster than me, hmm?” he asks, fingers digging into her sides now as he covers her face with kisses. His facial hair scratches at her skin as she laughs the type of laugh which could easily slip into a giggle. “Think it was funny to watch me struggle with that?” He continues to ask questions that he knows she cannot answer. 

“Mats.” It’s all she could muster between laughter. “Please.” she tries again. 

“Please what?” his fingers slow to a stop, but are poised perfectly to begin again if he wills to. 

“I love you.” She tries. 

“That won’t stop me,” he replies, fingers wiggling ever so slightly but doesn’t do it. “I love you too.”

“Yeah you better.” she grins up at him, watching as his expression turns to that of a lovestruck puppy. It’s one that she’s seen on his face a few times today but hadn’t pointed it out. Hadn’t wanted to make him embarrassed or make him feel as though he should hold that part of himself back, especially with how long it took for him to finally feel comfortable to show it in the first place. “Hey.” She says to get his attention as he begins to look away. 

“Yeah?”

“Fucking thing.” She imitates him before bursting into laughter once more.  

#mats hummels one shot #mats hummels imagine #mats hummels blurb #mats hummels drabble #mats hummels fanfic #mats hummels fanfiction #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #football fanfiction #football blurb #football fanfic #footballer fanfiction

[gatheringbones]

[“All of my aggressive walking finally led me to a very large, flat rock overlooking a wildflower meadow. I remembered my initial goals and decided to sit on this rock and resolve that I was not a useless piece of shit if it was the last thing I did. I sat there slapping my forehead, muttering, “You’re awesome! You’re awesome! You’re awesome!” until a question popped into my head. Why do people believe in you?

Why? There must be something inside me that deserves that belief. Back up. Who believes in you? I scrolled through my phone. There were sweet little texts from a bevy of people. All of them were so smart. So talented. They were good judges of character, and none of them suffered fools. I looked at the last text messages some of these people had sent me. One friend said she missed me. Another said she thought I was one of the silliest people she’d ever known. An old co-worker told me just last week that she believed I was responsible for her career.

Usually when these people send me compliments affirming my existence and worth, I send back some version of: “Oh, pshaw, you’re soooo nice, but I’m actually a fetid sewer marsupial, lolol,” and then I rush to catch my train or chop garlic or respond to my next email.

The shrooms showed me that my C-PTSD was a void. When Dustin didn’t text me back for three days, when Kat snapped at me because I said something careless during a conversation, when Joey locked himself in the office to get away from me for a few hours…the black hole expanded, its maw impossible to fill, and it began to whisper dangerous things as it grew: Why aren’t you a priority? Why aren’t you loved? Surely this means they are about to leave. My fear of being abandoned forced me to need proof of love in abundance, over and over and over again, a hundred times a day. So even though my friends were constantly attempting to fill the great void of my self-hatred with generous words, assurances, and compliments…they were all simply getting sucked into that black hole, mere crumbs for my intense desire. I dismissed them. In the end, my friends’ exhortations had gone to waste.

But now, with the help of the shrooms, I allowed all of this praise to finally penetrate. To allow myself to believe I was worthy of it.

All of my friends’ tiny acts of generosity and kindness did not pass me by. Instead, they took my breath away. They filled me up. I scrolled through the messages on my phone, and they lit up like gemstones, painted a full landscape of me, dappled with light and complexity, weeds and miraculous flowers, much like the meadow I was currently gazing at. My heart swelled with gratitude for every text, even the silly meme ones. I must not be a monster. Would a monster be capable of receiving this much kindness? No—I must be loved tremendously. I must be magic.

I laughed gleefully on my rock, surrounded by towering sunflowers, which seemed to dance with my joy. And then I laughed louder, lucky that nobody was nearby. I sat up suddenly, startling an old couple. I was overcome with an urgent need to put on more sunblock. AND! To return the favors that had been extended to me. For months, I had been too afraid to text people and bother them with my nonsense, but today I whipped out my phone and tearfully texted grateful compliments to everyone. “You’re such a bomb, brilliant person, thank you for being my friend.” Send. “You mean so much to me, and I’m so grateful to have you.” Send. “It was so fun running into you the other day! I miss you!” Send.

Immediately the responses came back: “Omg! Miss you too! Love you too! Do you want to go grab coffee?” I felt like Joanna, like a normal person, or maybe even a Minnesotan. Being nice came easy. Even after I’d come down off the drugs, I soared high on these future plans, these connections I was continuing to affirm.

For a few days, it seemed so easy to be in the world with other people. I fielded dozens of phone calls and text messages with merry aplomb. After a couple of weeks, as expected, the old anxieties returned, and I could feel my brain bending back toward negativity. The shroom bliss never stays forever.

But something was different this time—a new determination to somehow make my revelations stick, outside of the shroom space.

The big black void in my head was a well-worn path built into my programming. I realized that no number of singular trippy experiences—whether they came from shrooms, acid, ketamine, hyperventilation, or ayahuasca—would ever completely overwrite this programming, no matter how transcendental.

But my trip had also shown me that there was one thing that could combat the void for a little while: gratitude. It was the flame that penetrated the darkness, that filled me all the way up. And the only way to keep the flame going was to keep feeding it. I had to force gratitude into my routines in ways I could not ignore or forget. I had to systematize the light.”]

Stephanie Foo, from What My Bones Know: Healing From Complex Trauma

#stephanie foo #currently reading #brainspace

[nerdasaurus1200]

A little drabble idea I had

It’s Raining, it’s Pouring

Cassandra yawned as she sleepily lumbered out of bed. Normally she was the biggest morning person in her growing family. But with taking care of her toddler Ronnie and two sick seven year olds, she’d been getting far less sleep than usual.

“Morning, Mama.” She heard a little voice say when she entered the kitchen. She perked up at the voice, and smiled when she saw which of her little moonbeams had decided to rise with her.

“Morning, Orion.” Cassandra greeted softly, “Why are you up?”

“It’s raining. And I like the rain.” Orion answered simply. That was true, Orion did like the rain. Ever since he was a baby, the rainfall always seemed to calm him down.

“It’s been raining for a while now. Do you think the roads might flood?” He asked.

“If they go on for another hour, then maybe.” Cassandra answered as she prepared a cup of coffee for herself, “Which means I’ll have to work from home with you and your Daddy and siblings.” Cassandra sat down by the window next to her son and she could tell he liked that idea from his little smile. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she took in Orion’s face in the dim stormy morning light.

“It looks like the color in your face is finally coming back.” She observed, “How’s your head feeling, moonbeam?”

“Less buzzy and achey today.” Orion answered, then his brow furrowed in thought, “Hey Mama?”

“Hm?”

“If it’s raining and pouring, who’s the Old Man? From the song.” He asked, looking up at her with his sweet green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Cassandra laughed a little to herself, “I’m not sure moonbeam.”

“Is it Pop Pop? He snores sometimes.” Orion mused.

“It could be any old man, honey.” Cassandra replied, and pulled up Orion into her lap. Orion smiled up at his mother and gave her a tight hug.

“Did you know that when I was your little brother’s age, I used to sit in this very spot all the time?” Cassandra told him.

“Really? Why?”

“I liked to look out the window. See if there was anybody coming, or if there were any animals outside.”

“Like a lookout?”

“You could say that.”

“I could be a lookout then!” Orion declared proudly, “Just like Jerry does at school! And I could watch over Carina while you and Daddy work!”

“Orion, moonbeam…all you need to worry about it making sure you get better.” Cassandra instructed him.

“Yeah but Carrie’s my baby sister…and I want her to get better too.” Orion pouted. Cassandra had to blink to keep herself from crying. Poor Carina had been just as sick as Orion this past week, and no one was sure when she’d get better. None of them could even figure out what it was.

“She will, moonbeam. She’s strong.” Cassandra took Orion’s hand and gently squeezed it, “Like you and your brother. And like your father, and all your other siblings. She’s a Padare. And a Schulz. And you can never get rid of us that easy.” Orion listened intently to his mother’s words, and nodded firmly.

“Thank you Mama.” He whispered as he hugged her again.

“You’re welcome moonbeam.” Cassandra whispered back. For a while, mother and son just sat there by the window watching the rain and singing to themselves,

“It’s raining, it’s pouring.

The old man is snoring.

He went to bed and bumped his head and he couldn’t get up in the morning.”

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #cassandra #orion