#thus we were the same size things

[hotchs-big-hands]

Hey Bunny

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader SMUT|10.7k words

MINORS DNI PLEASE

Hey everyone! Been a while since I’ve written a full coherent fic LMAO and here I bring the gift of lots of smut. Probably the kinkiest thing I’ve written to date, which I’ll list off in the warnings. This is all based off conversations I’ve had with 🖤 anon for a while :3 so I can’t take all the credit! I hope yawl enjoy this absolute FILTH 💅💅💅

After being woken up from a vivid erotic dream about your boss, who you’re currently on the last night of sharing a hotel room and bed with after a successful case, you’re more than reassured that it’s okay to have such dreams about him. And he’ll learn a bit more about you than he first thought.

Warning(s): light hurt/comfort, very brief mention of Foyet and what he did, so much sex, use of petnames, bunny kink, daddy/sir kink, erotic dreams, oral (both m/f giving and receiving), light gagging, pussy slapping, spanking, light humiliation, a lot of dirty talk in general, fingering, p in v penetration, body worship (both m/f giving and receiving), size kink, slight gaping, condom use, it's just kinky okay what can I tell you?

It was not often enough for a case to end well in a way that allowed for you all to head out for a celebratory meal afterwards. But luckily for you all this time it most certainly had turned out better than anticipated in the end. The kidnapped victims had been found safely and the unsub was subdued with no casualties. Spirits were higher than they had been in the previous case and thus you all found yourselves sitting around a large table sharing a meal; Rossi's treat, of course.

The mood was certainly more rowdy tonight with the sounds of laughter bouncing around the table and cheerful chatter filled the atmosphere with a familial warmth. You were perching more to your left on your chair right now, engaging in the conversation with JJ and Emily with great enthusiasm, something that the two were raising a brow at, though you pretended not to notice. In truth, you were trying to avoid the man sitting on your right. Not for displeasure reasons, but quite the opposite in fact. Attempting to avoid brushing your leg or arm against your very sexy boss was the cause for your behaviour right now.

Aaron Hotchner had been your hotel room mate for the week, something that had been extremely difficult for you to cope with having as big of a crush on him as you did. You'd seen him in far less clothing than his standard neat, tight suits during the entire week as he slept in fitted tees and his underwear, although you suspected he didn't typically do that when he slept alone. It was a very bad idea to linger on those sorts of thoughts though…

JJ suddenly bumped into you, having been shoved by Emily at the climax of a funny story and you squeaked, jolting back and ultimately knocking against Aaron with a yelp.

"H-hey! You two, watch it!" You squeaked, earning a hearty laugh from the dark haired woman.

"Aww come on, it was an accident."

As you opened your mouth to retort, you felt a warm hand rest upon your right leg, just short of your large thigh, and you fought the urge to jolt again.

"Are you alright?" You heard the man beside you ask and you shivered. You didn’t want to look at him in fear of embarrassing yourself by ogling, but at the same time you didn’t want to be rude either. You turned your head in his direction and your breath escaped you when your eyes met his beautiful brown ones accidentally. His gaze was intense and yet kind and concerned. You offered a shy smile.

“I am y-yes. Don’t worry about me, we’re all just in good spirits tonight, sir.”

His brow raised slightly.

“Aaron.” He said. You blinked.

“Mm?”

“We aren’t working now, call me Aaron.”

Oh. You shifted in your seat and grimaced when the wood creaked slightly.

“Alright then, Aaron.” You chuckled to yourself, earning an increasingly perplexed expression on his face. To which you flustered and turned towards him more in your seat and waved a hand out in front of you. “I-I’m not laughing at your name! I’m just- it’s unusual for me to call you by your first name so I’m-“

Aaron’s delightful but sadly rare laugh cut you off and you were greeted with his cute dimples on his cheeks. Even the others stilled their conversation at the sound, but he didn’t appear to care to pay them any mind.

“Please, relax. You're fine, (Y/n).” He smiled, and you basked in the smoothness of his deep voice. You swore you were just imagining things when you felt his hand slightly slip upwards to your lower thigh and squeeze gently, nonetheless you shivered.

The hand remained on your leg right up until Aaron excused himself to visit the restroom whilst the rest of your group began shrugging your coats on ready to head back to the hotel. You felt flutters in your stomach and you fought off a nervous twitch of the corner of your mouth, something your dear friend and colleague Derek noticed.

“A little excited, huh?” He teased, waggling his expressive eyebrows at you. From his perspective you must have appeared like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and your mouth slightly agape.

“Wh- no! I’m tired, eager to go to sleep so we can fly home tomorrow.” You responded quickly as you straightened out your clothing and fastened your coat up.

“Mhm, sure you are.”

Emily was smirking at you when your head whipped round at the sound of her voice and one of her perfect brows was arched. You felt flushed, desperate to rush outside into the biting air of the night. Before you opened your mouth to retort back at her, you noticed her eyes flick over your shoulder and you knew he had returned.

“Ready to go?” Aaron addressed the group. There was a series of responses bounced around and you felt a hand lightly press to the small of your back. You jolted slightly, and met his gaze with a turn. “Shall we go?”

You could only nod. Vainly ignoring the pointed stares of your friends, you followed beside your unit chief as everyone exited the restaurant. You shivered slightly when the frigid wind hit your face, but you were grateful for the temperature change. The walk was short with the restaurant being located a few short blocks from the hotel and you found yourself in step with Emily and JJ, listening and chiming in with the plans they were putting together to have a girl’s night with your one only absent member of the team in the field; Penelope.

“You could stay over at my place at the end of the night out, if you wanted.” Emily said. You nodded and grinned, but JJ grimaced slightly.

“I’d be headed back home to my boys after. I wanna spend as much time with them as I can,” She spoke, then smiled smugly. “Aside from you lovely ladies, of course.”

The darker haired woman of the two huffed out a quiet laugh before the conversation died down when you came to a stop in front of the hotel’s elevator. You busied yourself with looking down at your phone when you felt the men from the team catch you all up and, with the opening of the doors, you all shuffled inside tiredly. You ended up towards the back wall, separated from Emily and JJ, and you briefly caught Emily’s eye. That smirk was present on her face again and you glanced away quickly, only to watch as your breathtaking unit chief squeezed between Derek and Spencer towards you. You couldn’t help your eyes widening slightly and your legs brushing against one another as he came to stand beside you. God, you needed to leave this damn elevator quickly. Slowly, the doors closed and you felt the movement of the elevator rising up to the floor Rossi was on. He, of course, had a room all to himself with the excuse of him being the oldest member of the team and therefore, needing his own space. The remainder of you all were on the floor above in doubles. And that was where your problem lay…

Just one more night, you thought to yourself. One more, then you could escape from the torture of sharing with Aaron Hotchner. Torture, as in sleeping on the only bed in the room; a queen, so close under the covers to the man who had taken up the entirety of your fantasies and erotic dreams. It hadn’t been easy, using the same shower he did, smelling his body wash and imagining it was in your shower at home instead. It was all too much for you and it made your thighs clench together. And while the case had been a good distraction from the full extent of your thoughts about the man, you didn’t have that now with it finished. Tonight was going to be the most tortuous of them all.

You followed behind Derek when the elevator stopped on your floor and you skittishly trekked down the corridor, unable to participate in conversation well. Your room was the first, and as Aaron unlocked the door, you watched helplessly as your friends bid you as much of a ‘good night’ as a pointed smirk that made you turn your back on them, cheeks burning. Seeing the door swung open, you mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ to him as you passed and Aaron followed, quietly closing the door behind you both and locking it again. You crossed the room to your side of the queen-sized bed and shyly perched on the edge to unfasten your shoes and kick them off.

“Do you want to take a shower first?” You heard Aaron say and you turned your body to look at him. Your breath hitched at the sight of him without his jacket on and one of his large hands was loosening the knot of his tie. You blinked a few times, trying to break your stare and you shook your head.

“Oh, no you can. Thank you, si- Aaron.”

Your cheeks flushed when he smirked at your self-correction and he hummed.

“Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

As he disappeared into the shower room with his change of clothes and towel, you flopped backwards on the bed with an exhale. One more night. Just one more and you would be free from accidentally embarrassing yourself or revealing your feelings in front of your boss. You didn’t know how you were going to sleep well tonight with nothing work-related to focus on now. No, instead your mind was fixated on the knowledge you had been sharing a bed with the man you thought about way too often, dreamt about too often, and gasped out the name of whilst you touched yourself when you definitely shouldn’t have been.

Sitting up again, you busied yourself with packing your bag as a distraction, leaving out your clothes for the journey home tomorrow. By the time you were finished, the door to the shower room swung open and Aaron walked out, rubbing his towel through his wet hair. Oh fuck.

With his arms stretched up, his more fitted black tee rode upwards and, to your delight and horror, the sexy softness of his lower stomach peeked out. You could spy the dark hair trailing from the top of his grey boxers and just below it-

“Shower’s all yours.”

You jolted at the sound of his voice and you grabbed your pyjamas and towel quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“T-thank you.”

When you heard the click of the lock, you began to tremble and buried your face in the fabric in your hands. God, you wanted to scream right now. Feebly, you hoped he hadn’t caught you staring at his physique just now but you weren’t so sure. It didn’t help that the scent of his shower gel and aftershave enveloped you in the steamy room. You clenched your thighs together and drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down enough to wash off the day. Stripping your clothes off and setting them down on the side of the sink top, not daring to look in the mirror too much at your plush body for you knew you’d see just how riled up you were right now.

The cold water of the shower did nothing to stifle the sensations between your legs, your pussy throbbed, yearning to be touched. You forbade it. Tomorrow, you thought. Not when the cause of your arousal was just the other side of the door. But even still you couldn’t resist rubbing your thighs together as the water cascaded down your curves and bumps. Eventually, you gave up and shut the water off and stepped out with your towel wrapped around your figure. You kept your touch feather-light as you dried yourself off and pulled your nightwear on, biting your lip and whimpering when the fabric brushed against the sensitive skin of your breasts and inner thighs. Drawing in a deep breath, you gathered your clothes up after finishing your nightly routine and exited out into the main room.

Aaron wasn’t in bed as you expected, rather standing by the hotel room’s desk with a casefile in hand. At the sound of your return he glanced up from the paperwork through his thick lashes. You swallowed thickly as you returned to your side of the bed again and bent over to stuff the last of your clothes into your bag. Behind you, Aaron cleared his throat and you straightened up quickly and climbed onto the bed, but he remained where he stood, now with his back to you still holding the file. You pouted.

“Si-Aaron, leave that for when we get back to the office. Or at least until we get on the plane,” You said as you peeled the covers back and settled under them. “Come to bed.”

“Making orders, are we?” The man retorted and you froze up, eyes wide in alarm when he turned slightly to look at you. His brows were furrowed, mouth pulled downward in a stern frown.

“A-Ah no! Just- I just thought you could do with an earlier night work-free tonight!” You squeaked, shifting on the bed ready to stand up again until he chuckled and flashed you a cheesy grin.

“I’m teasing you. I’m sorry, you’re right though. I’ll just be a moment, then I’ll be right over.”

You stared, blinking slowly as you processed what had just occurred, then a giggle bubbled out of you as you settled back against the pillows on your side. Aaron wasn’t really the type to tease anyone, and the way he said it to you was… well, sexy. Authoritative. You certainly would be thinking of that tomorrow when you finally returned home. But right now you had to get through this last night, somehow.

As he said, Aaron set the paperwork down after a few minutes and padded across the room to settle down on the bed. Attempting to distract yourself in the meantime, you were scrolling on your phone casually and forcefully willed yourself not to look at him when you felt the mattress dip under his weight settling next to you. As he shuffled under the covers, you reached over to your bedside table and set your phone down, then snuggled down against the pillows. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, so close to you that it was electrifying. Your body shuddered.

“Cold?” Aaron queried. Your toes curled.

“Y-yeah. I’ll warm up though.”

“Right. Let me know if you don’t though.”

“Will do.” You turned on your side, facing away from him as he reached for the light switch on the wall next to him. “Good night, sir.”

Aaron hummed.

“Sleep well, (Y/n).”

And somehow, you managed to drift off to sleep.

“Mhm, come on now. Show daddy your pretty pussy.” Aaron said with a smirk, kneeling between your plump thighs as you dug your heels into the mattress.

You bit your lip, gazing up at his dishevelled appearance, his shirt unbuttoned the whole way and hanging from his shoulders to reveal the plains of his strong chest and soft pudge of his lower stomach. And below it was a prominent bulge pressed against the fly of his neat slacks, the sight making you shudder with need. Shyly, you grabbed your legs by the back of your knees and slowly pulled them apart, feeling your folds spread and the cool air of the room caressed your glistening slit. Aaron’s pupils dilated until his brown eyes appeared almost black and his hands came to grip onto the meat of your thighs, fingers digging in as he pulled them further apart to examine your throbbing clit and twitchy entrance. He groaned as a trail of juices trickled out of you, slowly disappearing between your ass cheeks before him.

“Yes… such a good girl for daddy. You want me to play with your pussy, huh?”

You rolled your hips eagerly, letting out a guttural whine.

“Please daddy, please!”

His smirk widened.

“Please, what?”

You whimpered as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“P-please play with my pussy, daddy! Need your fingers so badly!” You cried, rolling your hips again.

“Good girl.”

His hands brushed closer and closer to your slit until he suddenly pushed back the hood of your clit with his right thumb, exposing the bundle of nerves to him and eliciting a squeak. But as his other hand came to caress it your hips jumped, the pleasurable sensation intense already. He cooed.

“So sensitive and jumpy, like a cute little bunny.”

Your eyes widened and your body jolted with his words, making him let out a surprised chuckle.

“Oh? You like being called bunny, huh? Naughty girl.” He said and his hand came down fast and slapped your poor clit. You wailed, your grip on your legs tightening.

“D-daddy~!”

Your cheeks warmed, your lower belly coiling in embarrassment and arousal and he let out a breathy laugh again.

“Awww, is my little bunny embarrassed she liked that? How cute. Don’t worry though, daddy’s gonna take care of you…”

Muffled sounds roused Aaron from his light slumber and he sat up quickly in alarm, reaching over to his bedside table- then he realised the covers were moving beside him. He cautiously turned to look over your side of the bed and his jaw clenched.

Writhing with the sheets kicked mostly off, you slept restlessly. A thin layer of sweat beaded on your forehead and your brows were creased. This was where the noise was coming from, Aaron thought as you whimpered quietly. A nightmare? Then he really paid attention to the way your body moved, hips rolling, legs splaying lazily and your hands clutched at the sheets. Oh.

Within his boxers, Aaron felt his cock twitch at the realisation of what you were more likely dreaming about in that moment. Fuck. What was he to do? He most certainly wouldn’t get anymore sleep now at this rate. Maybe he should quietly get dressed and leave with a note telling you he went for a walk. But at the same time he didn’t like the thought of leaving you by yourself- Aaron scrunched his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, pushing away the more serious thoughts. You were capable of protecting yourself, he knew that. And yet…

“Mmh, daddy please…” He heard beside him and his entire body jolted in surprise, eyes flying open and immediately finding your face. Aaron swallowed thickly as his cock twitched again, hardening slowly.

Try as he might to resist, his eyes wandered to the rest of your body where your chest rose and fell, the swell of your breasts strained against the confines of your pyjama shirt. Fuck, your nipples were pebbled and for a moment he wondered how they'd feel between his teeth.

He clenched his jaw and forced his gaze away from your chest, only to find himself ogling the squishiness of your stomach. Oh, how he had fantasised about gripping onto it as he thrusted his cock into you, needing to see how your body moved in time with him. And as his eyes trailed down to your moving hips he spotted the dampening patch on the crotch of your pyjama shorts- fuck, he needed to wake you up now.

Carefully, Aaron reached a shaky hand over towards you in the darkness of the room and touched your shoulder.

“(Y/n), hey, wake up.” He said softly, and in response your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a groan. “Come on, wake up, sweetheart.”

A moment passed, then your eyes fluttered open and flicked to look at him, only to squeak and flinch back when familiarity filled your gaze.

“S-sir!” You cried out.

This couldn’t be happening to you right now, surely. You surely weren't sprawled out flushed and needy whilst Aaron stared down at you as he kneeled beside you, his hand still resting on your shoulder. You quickly sat up and pulled the covers up over your form.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Do we have a case?” You stumbled over the words quickly, and Aaron blinked, then huffed out a quiet laugh.

“No, no. Don't worry about that. Are you okay?” He asked gently and you felt your stomach clench. Oh no…

“I-I….”

Aaron leaned a little closer, brows creased in concern.

“Bad dream?”

You froze. He really did hear you, then. After a moment, you sighed and rubbed your hands over your face.

“No… but I think you already know that, sir.” You mumbled.

Aaron hummed and dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I didn't want to accuse you of anything and embarrass you,” he said and shifted back towards his side of the bed ever so slightly to give you space. “But, well, I woke up because I could hear you.”

Your grip on the covers tightened as a cold feeling of shame oozed over you.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen.”

You mumbled as your head drooped and you felt your lower lip begin to tremble. This was the worst thing to happen right now. Not only had you dreamt of your boss in an inappropriate way, you'd disturbed his sleep too.

“Hey…” Aaron began softly, reaching across again to take hold of one of your hands. You refused to look up though, the negative feelings within now burned through your veins like lava. “Look at me.” He said.

You didn't move.

“I can't. Wanna forget this happened, sir.” You mumbled back.

He was quiet for a moment, brushing his thumb across your knuckles soothingly.

“Well I don't.”

That got your attention, then. Your head snapped up and your eyes searched his face.

“I-I’m sorry?”

Aaron gazed down at you through his thick lashes, the sight causing a warmth to pool within your lower abdomen. Had he gotten closer all of a sudden?

“I’m going to switch the room light on, protect your eyes for a moment.”

You complied immediately, turning away to bury your face in the crook of your arm and you heard the click of the light switch, signalling you to slowly pull your arm away from your squinting eyes. Now… Now there was nothing to hide from him. You turned back towards him and you shuddered at the sight of his rugged appearance. Aaron exhaled.

“Listen (Y/n), you think I'm a stranger to erotic dreams? Of course I'm not.” He said, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You've nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But I do!” You cried and pulled back, stumbling out of bed and clenching your hands into fists. “I shouldn't have had this dream, especially since I dreamt about the very person I've been-” your eyes widened then, realising what you'd almost said. Aaron knelt up now, moving closer to where you stood backed against the wall.

“Been what?”

You just had to dig your hole deeper. Aaron’s brows were creased now, but all you could do was stare back with a saddened furrow.

“(Y/n)?”

The prickling feeling in the corner of your eyes triggered your throat to tighten as you fought the urge to cry.

“You know what I'm going to say, but I'm ashamed to say it.” You choked.

Aaron's brows raised slightly, but he remained quiet for a moment as though lost in thought.

Every second that passed was agony, your mind beginning to race away from you with ‘what ifs’ about everything. Was he uncomfortable with you? What if you were transferred or fired? The thought made your chest ache and finally, the tears began to roll down your cheeks and your breaths grew shallow and fast.

“Hey, hey. (Y/n), look at me. C'mere back to bed.” Aaron's voice brought you from your thoughts and your eyes refocused on the contours of his mature face. He was painfully beautiful. “Will you let me hug you? You're okay. You've nothing to be ashamed of.”

You simply nodded meekly and he breathed, reaching out to you-of which you met him halfway by crawling back onto the mattress- and pulled you over for a warm, ever engulfing embrace, maintaining you at his side respectfully. You let out a whimper as you gripped onto his shirt tightly, whilst his hands held firmly onto your soft body.

“I'm sorry.” You mumbled against his shirt.

“You don't need to be.”

“I had an embarrassing sex dream about you and now you're comforting me for it.”

Aaron held you closer still, resting your head on his chest. Wait- his heart was racing.

“Maybe that’s because I want to.” He said quietly. You pulled back.

“Wh-why?”

He quirked a little grin as one of his hands glided up and down your back soothingly.

“Well, when I said I am no stranger to erotic dreams…” he trailed off and your breath hitched.

No way. Surely he wasn't implying-

“Whatever you're thinking, the answer is yes. I've had my own fair share of…dreams about you.” His eyes were fixed on you as he spoke, and you felt your body trembling. He let out a chuckle. “I've been very lucky this week that somehow I haven't had one, to put things into perspective.”

You stared at him for a moment, then your face broke out into a flustered grin and you giggled.

“Oh! Well I- I didn't expect that, sir!”

With the room light on now you could bear witness to the delightful sight of Aaron's flushed pink cheeks as he grinned bashfully.

“Now you see that you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You both quietened for a moment, holding one another gently as you studied one another. He really was such a beautiful man. Silently, he leaned down towards you closer still and your breath hitched.

“A-are you gonna kiss me, sir?”

“Mhm, you called me something very different when you were sleeping.” He murmured and you shuddered.

“I…”

“I sure hope you're not about to apologise again to me, sweetheart.” He said as he leaned closer towards your face, eyes gazing down at your lips through his thick lashes. “Because if you are, I'm going to have to put that pretty mouth of yours to better use.”

Your eyes widened and you shivered as your thighs clenched together.

“F-fuck…”

Aaron hummed and cupped your cheeks with his large hands, his thumbs stroking your soft skin.

“May I kiss you, (Y/n)?”

You swallowed thickly.

“Please.” You managed to whisper.

And his lips were pressed against yours a moment later, tender and gentle and sensual as your eyes fluttered shut and your hands came to grab onto the front of his tee shirt. Instinctively, you whined into it and his hands moved, gliding down to your plush waist and gripping onto the flesh. He moved backwards, pulling you with him to straddle his lap and as your clothed slit reached the fabric of his underwear you felt just how much he wanted this from the firm, hot bulge that pressed against the confines of the fabric.

You whimpered as he pulled back barely enough for him to be able to speak, his lips still brushing against yours as he spoke.

“Feel how much I like you, huh? Need you so much, pretty girl.”

You shyly rolled your hips, grinding your mound against the bulge and earning a sharp hiss from the man before you. His hands moved suddenly to grab your ass cheeks, squeezing and melding them and causing you to roll your hips more in response. He groaned against your mouth when his lips met yours again, the second kiss being more heated and desperate; hungry for you. Only when the need for oxygen burned in your chest did you both part once more, but his lips remained on your skin as they travelled along your soft jaw.

“C'mon, tell me about the dream you were having.” He coaxed you, holding your body flushed with his more than ever. You merely whimpered and your hands moved to his hair, messing it up with strands pointing in random directions. Aaron tutted and turned you both over, pinning you beneath him and making you squeal.

“A-alright! I, mmh, wanted you to touch my p-pussy, you had me spread my legs for you.”

Something flared within Aaron's dark eyes and you heard a rumble in his chest; possessive and aroused. His hands gripped your hips and you parted your thighs a little, eager for him. He smirked.

“Oh? Well, we'll build up to that. Wanna ask you a few things first.” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “I wanna know what you're okay with and your limits.”

You sucked your lower lip between your teeth and slowly released it, enjoying the way Aaron's eyes fixated on your mouth.

“J-just as long as you don't do anything too extreme like really hurting me or extremely gross I'm okay. I'm a big girl, I can take it.”

You felt as Aaron's hands slid up to cup your cheeks and he kissed the tip of your nose fondly, making you hum.

“I see, I don't want to hurt you, at least nothing more than if you enjoyed a bit of spanking. How does that sound, hmm?” He said and you shuddered, flashes of the dream you'd had causing you to subtly spread your legs a little wider.

A whine escaped you as you held onto him desperately. “Yes, fuck please!”

Aaron smiled.

“Good girl.”

You shivered and opened and closed your mouth a few times, debating on how to word what you wanted to say next. He quirked a brow.

“What is it?”

“I… well, I love slaps on my ass but I also- fuck, this is embarrassing!” you squeaked, earning a kiss to your forehead, then Aaron brushed his own forehead against yours.

“You don't need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I'm not here to shame you.”

With a whimper, you blurted it out.

“I really like pussy spanking!”

As the words slipped your mouth the reaction was instantaneous; the man before you jolted forward, his hips bumping against yours and pressing the prominent bulge of his erection against your inner thigh. And it twitched. You made a small noise as he pushed himself up again as he uttered an apology.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry.” Aaron said but in response you rolled your hips upwards, chasing the feeling of his arousal against your body.

“I-It’s more than fine, s-Aaron.”

He hummed, pressing his weight down onto you now and his lips brushed over yours.

“So, pussy spanking? I didn’t expect that from you, naughty girl.” He teased you and you shuddered. He chuckled softly and began to slightly grind his bulge against the heat of your clothed slit. “You want daddy to spank your pussy, huh?”

You bit your lip, brows creasing as you nodded at him with a little hum.

“Y-you’re okay with daddy?”

Aaron stroked your cheek and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth.

“More than okay with it, I assure you.”

With that he pressed his lips to yours properly once more and his large hands travelled down your neck until he grasped your breasts, causing you to gasp in surprise. Aaron took advantage of this, his tongue brushing against your own whilst his fingers pinched and flicked at your erect nipples through your pyjama shirt. All you could do was grip onto his upper arms, the strong muscles tensing as you rolled your hips up against Aaron's bulge and causing much needed friction on your poor clit.

When you both parted for oxygen again, you whined.

“Please-!”

“Aww, please what?” Aaron cooed at you, though it wasn't entirely sincere but rather mimicking your tone. You felt flushed, embarrassed but enjoying it more than you thought you would.

“W-wanna feel your hands on my skin!”

With a hum of approval, you felt as he pulled at the hem of your shirt and you shifted up from the bed just enough for him to be able to pull it off your body, exposing your plush body to him finally. You didn’t have time to clam up and cover yourself with your arms as Aaron gently grasped your wrists and pinned them either side of your head. He exhaled deeply, causing a rumble to vibrate through his chest. His dark eyes roamed over your form and again, you felt his cock twitch.

“Jesus, you’re fucking beautiful.”

Your legs came to clamp around his hips and you tried to curl your knees inwards in a feeble attempt at covering yourself.

“S-sir!” you squeaked. His eyes narrowed and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Careful, if you call me that I may not know what to do with myself when we’re working together.”

Your eyes widened in alarm, but a faint smirk toyed with the corner of his mouth and you relaxed a little. You’d keep that in mind for now. Drawing your attention back to the present, Aaron released his hold on your wrists, only for his hands to glide across your shoulders and down the centre of your chest, teasing you by avoiding touching your nipples. Now, he allowed himself to smile more openly and he drew in a deep breath.

“So soft, so fucking sexy. You’ll let me kiss them, huh pretty girl?” He murmured.

You nodded and offered a brief ‘yes’ and he slid down the bed a little until his face was level with your breasts. You shuddered when his lips made contact with the valley between them, leaving little kisses over the area and starting to sidle over to the right one, his tongue slipping out to swirl around your areola and causing you to arch up into his touch and gasp out. You could feel his lips curl into a smirk as they wrapped around the pert nipple and he sucked it into his mouth, his hand coming to grab your other breast and roll the nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. You moaned softly, moving your hands to sift through the dark locks of Aaron’s hair and mussing it up. When his teeth brushed against the tip your back arched and you tugged on his hair, making him huff a muffled laugh.

With a wet smack of his lips, he pulled away from your now swollen nipple and brushed his lips over the flushed skin.

“You sound so sexy when you moan for me, pretty girl.” He murmured and you let go of his hair to cover your face with your hands, squeaking.

“Shhh! Don't say that!”

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze darkened and suddenly, his hand came down and slapped your inner thigh and startling you with a squeal.

“Aaron!”

His hand slapped your thigh again, closer to your clothed slit.

“What was that, hm?” He said darkly, his hand gripping onto the meat of your thigh, his fingers indenting slightly. You breathed shakily.

“I-I-”

“It’s daddy, got it? Or do you want to be punished?”

You stared into his dark eyes and sucked on your lower lip again, slightly swaying your hips side to side. 

“No, daddy. I-I’ll be a good girl.” you whimpered and Aaron hummed softly, moving his hands up to cup your cheeks and brushing his thumbs against your skin.

“That’s right, you’re my good girl.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, groaning softly into the kiss and you returned to brushing your fingers through his dark locks. You felt him press his thick bulge against you and you desperately wanted to feel his bare skin against yours. Needed to see it, touch it, taste it…

Aaron grunted in surprise as you shoved him away, only to hear you giggle as you manoeuvred him to lay on his back whilst you knelt at his crotch. His eyes narrowed at you.

“What do you think you’re doing, hmm?” He asked darkly and you leaned down closer to the twitching bulge of his boxers.

“Can I have a taste please, sir?”

Visibly, Aaron’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He let out a puff of air through his nose and a smirk tugged at his mouth.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sir’? You fucking naughty girl.” He gritted, although he wasn’t truly annoyed. You hummed innocently.

“Whoops, I can’t help it, sir. I’m just so used to it.”

Shaking his head but smiling slightly, Aaron raised a brow at you and his body relaxed.

“Well, since you asked so nicely I’ll forgive and forget both you shoving me ah-nd-” His words stuttered when you pressed a little kiss to the tip of his clothed cock and hummed softly at the feeling of the patch of precum staining his boxers touching your lips. “F-fuck…”

You beamed at him between his slightly parted legs, pressing your soft cheek against the bulge affectionately.

“You’re so big, daddy!”

With your newfound confidence, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and slid them down, eyes wide as they focused on his cock. You heard Aaron hiss when his length finally slipped out, slapping against the lower part of his tee shirt. He was very big. Aaron let out a deep, quiet moan as he studied your expression- you were in awe, almost salivating at the sight of him. You slid down to lay on your stomach, taking hold of his shaft and causing him to hiss sharply. From the hem of his shirt you could see the base of his thick happy trail, the dark hair spreading out across his pubic bone and haloing his cock. With your other hand, you pulled his underwear down further until they reached his mid-thigh and now you had access to his mouth-watering balls too. You whimpered. Aaron felt precum slowly drip down off his tip, soaking into his shirt and leaving a little wet patch.

“You like the look of daddy’s cock huh?”

You nodded and whined out a little “yes” before you nuzzled your face against his cock. Eyes fluttering shut, you slowly opened your mouth and took the oozing tip inside, humming at the taste of his natural body and the slightly salty precum. You heard Aaron swear as you swirled your tongue around the tip, slipping your mouth further down the shaft. You bobbed your head lightly, sucking against his skin and feeling giddiness rise in your chest with every grunt and moan and curse that passed his lips. He tasted so good, addicting and you craved more. With one hand on his shaft, sliding up and down to meet your mouth, the other glided up to his stomach, slipping under his shirt and gripping onto the soft pudge there. You carded your fingers through the thick, dark hair there and felt the muscles under his skin contracting with every suck and lick of his cock. You felt his hands gently grip your scalp and you dug your fingers into his stomach when he began to guide you up and down his length.

“Unnf… that’s it, fuck- such a good fucking girl-” Aaron moaned softly, and you could feel him twitching against your tongue. You took more into your mouth until you felt the tip reach the back, just short of your throat, and you gagged a little. Aaron pulled you off quickly, sitting up to cup your cheeks. “Oh shit, I’m sorry sweetheart. Are you okay?” His eyes searched your face, the saliva dribbling down your chin and the little gasping breaths passing your swollen lips. You grinned.

“Mmh I am. Guess I gotta practice more to build up to that.” You breathed and slid your hand up and down his length. Aaron bucked his hips in surprise, falling back against the pillows with a grunt and causing you to giggle. “Oops~!”

You continued to slide your hand up over the slick tip whilst you kissed down the underside of the shaft until you reached the place where his cock met his balls. You hummed softly, tongue darting out to lick them and causing Aaron to groan deeply from the back of his throat. You could only sneak a couple more kisses before he pulled you away from his cock, grabbing onto your upper arms and hauling you to straddle him. He pressed his lips to yours in a fierce kiss, no doubt tasting himself on your lips, and his hands slid over to your back and encouraged you to grind your clothed slit over his shaft. You whined, feeling the tip bump your clit with the movement and wanting to feel more. Before you knew it, you were trapped beneath him on your back again, gasping in surprise and in turn, allowing his tongue to slip against yours. You felt hot, burning with need for him and craving him to do as he pleased with you so long as you could stay with him.

Aaron reeled back, gazing down at you with a look of pure desire and admiration of you. He reached for his shirt, pulling it up over his head and discarding it without any care and your pupils blew wide at the breathtaking sight of him in his entirety. Your eyes trailed over his form, over every bump and curve, the hair sprouting over his stomach, at every mole and beauty mark. But also at the faded but still raised scars that were scattered all across his body. You hadn’t known him during the threat of Foyet but had heard some of what transpired. But seeing it before you, seeing what physical damage that sadistic man had done to Aaron made your breath hitch. You blinked a few times, both to stop yourself from staring but also to try to clear away the tears welling up. Aaron noticed them though, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose affectionately.

“I’m okay, sweetheart. I promise.” He murmured softly. You nodded, but in the back of your mind you filed this off for a later time. For now, you slid your hand across his torso, feeling his skin under your touch and you kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You’re so handsome, sir. I knew you were already but…”

Aaron chuckled quietly, the tips of his ears evidently red as he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, brushing his thumb over your lips.

“Sweet-talking me, are we? Well, I appreciate it. I feel the same way seeing you.” kneeling back and lightly gripping onto the band of your shorts, he smirked. “Speaking of… shall we get these off you now, pretty girl? Gotta show your cute, little pussy the same amount of love you gave my cock.”

You squeaked, hips twitching upwards into his touch and allowing him to start sliding the shorts down your plush stomach and stretching over your large thighs. At the sight of your pubic mound, Aaron hummed deeply and made quick work pulling the fabric off the rest of the way, too joining the rest of your clothes elsewhere on the floor. You bit your lip, gazing up at him desperately and he chuckled again,

“Mhm, now I recall what you told me earlier from your dream. So,” He leaned back to give you space and gripped his girthy cock with one of his large hands. “Show daddy your pretty pussy.”

Oh fuck, you whimpered as you felt your clit throb at his command. You slid your hands down your body and gripped onto your legs, hooking your hands under your knees, and started parting your thighs for him. The cool air of the room hitting your dewy folds caused you to shiver, and the sight of Aaron jerking himself off to you made you feel confident, more aroused.

“I-is this okay, sir?”

Aaron gripped the base of his cock tightly, groaning a little and shifting forward towards your spread legs.

“God- so fucking pretty. You’ll let daddy touch, won’t you? You’re so wet.” He breathed, eyes focused on your slit.

“P-please-”

“Good girl.”

Letting go of his cock, Aaron instead moved his hands down to part your folds with his thumbs, licking his lips at the sight of your juices coating your skin. You shivered again, rolling your hips in desperation.

SLAP.

You squealed, back arching as the sting of Aaron’s hand impacting with your pussy startled you more than hurt you.

“Daddy!”

“I didn’t say you could keep moving around, little girl.”

Your eyes widened at his sharp tone, staring up at him as he glared. He resumed with his touches, swiping his fingers down from your little bundle of nerves to your leaking entrance. You whimpered, struggling to stay still but you couldn’t stop yourself from twitching. He chuckled and held his hand out to you showing off how much of your juices had stuck to his fingers.

“Would you look at that, little girl. So sensitive… i’ve barely touched you and you’re so jumpy.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach clenched, causing Aaron to pause.

“What is it? Are you alright?” His tone softened and you panicked a little.

“A-ah yes! Don’t worry, I just-” you felt a flush of warmth to your cheeks as you thought of how to word what you were about to say next. “Well, in my dream I was jumpy and you said I was jumpy like a b-bunny.”

For a moment the room was quiet, and you wondered if you had made a mistake. But as you opened your mouth to take back what you’d said, Aaron pinched your clit, making you cry out and buck your hips up.

“Well well, you’re more fucking filthy than I expected. You want me to call you my little bunny, huh?”

You keened up at him, letting out a high pitched noise as you tightened your grip on your legs.

“P-please, daddy!”

With a quiet huffing laugh, Aaron swiped his fingers across your pussy again and leaned down to press a kiss to your pubic mound. You quivered, anticipating what he would do next.

“So soft… Mmh, you smell so good, bunny. Gonna taste you now.” He whispered and slid his mouth lower, brushing his lips over the hood of your sensitive clit. He hummed, sending vibrations through your slit and you choked out, bucking your hips up against his face.

SLAP.

You sobbed out a broken moan with the smack to your pussy again, this time more firmly than the first one.

“Fuck- sorry da- ungh!” you could barely speak, words slurring into a loud moan when Aaron’s tongue swiped from your leaky hole up to your little nub, sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a tug. He didn’t stop, lapping at the bundle of nerves with his talented tongue and all you could do was try to stop yourself from riding his face. With his slick covered hand, he circled a finger around your entrance and dipped it inside slightly with every round; teasing you. He sucked you back into his mouth again, simultaneously thrusting the finger inside you in one swipe and you wailed.

Your grip on your legs faltered, slipping from your grasp and your feet slammed down onto the mattress. With a growl, Aaron surrounded your clit with his teeth as he pulled his mouth away again and as he did so, his finger slipped back out of your pussy. The sound of his fingers slapping your poor slit resounded around the room, accompanied by your cute squeal.

“You’re a naughty fucking bunny, aren’t you? Can’t keep hold of your legs anymore, huh? Tsk.”

Shoving your legs apart, Aaron thrusted two fingers inside you this time and his mouth devoured your poor clit, the little nub becoming swollen and red from the spanks. With another sob, your hands came to grip at his hair and he growled again, fucking his fingers into you roughly. He would be the death of you, driving you brainless with his touch and you’d thank him for it too.

Two fingers became three, stretching your little pussy open around them as he tortured you with his mouth. You already felt full just with his thick fingers inside you, but you’d seen the girth of his cock and you could only wonder how much it would split you open for him.

“S-so much- Fuck! Daddy, s-so thick~” You whined, feeling your juices drooling out of you with every thrust of his fingers. Aaron pulled off your clit again far enough away to speak.

“You need stretching out so you can take daddy’s cock, bunny.”

He emphasised with a thrust upwards and your hips spasmed, hands gripping the bedsheets either side of you desperately.

“G-ghh fuck!” 

His mouth resumed on your mound as his pace quickened, fingers rapidly thrusting in and out of you with a sloshing sound. You felt a burning pleasure building within your lower abdomen, coaxed by his torturous touch and your noises raised in pitch. With the feeling of your walls clamping around his fingers, Aaron smirked around your clit as he knew you were going to cum any moment now. With a light nibble of his teeth and a particular thrust you cried, back arching as you rode his mouth and fingers through your powerful orgasm. But he didn’t let up, continuing your torture until you were keening again. Only then did he relent, pulling off your clit with a wet smack of his lips and he pushed himself up with his spare hand, keeping his fingers of his other hand inside you still. He licked his lips.

“Mhm, you taste real good, bunny.” he smirked, eyes on your heaving chest. You struggled to catch your breath, eyes heavily lidded as you basked in the aftershocks.

“F-fuck, that was…”

“Us only getting started.”

That helped your eyes recover, widening as you stared up at the mischievous look on Aaron’s face.

“Oh fuck.”

He leaned down to kiss you, full of passion as you opened your mouth to taste your juices that lingered on his tongue, but pulled away far too soon and his fingers slipped out of your gushing hole. He cooed at you when you whimpered, pressing one more kiss to your forehead.

“Just gotta get a condom, bunny. You just sit tight for daddy, okay?” He said as he shifted away and clambered off the bed. Your eyes followed his toned rump, the urge to bite it suddenly flooded your mind and you bit your lip. Maybe another time, you thought.

“Why’d you have condoms, daddy? You thinking about fucking me?” You giggled as he grabbed a little foil packet from his go-bag. He turned to you with a glare, stalking over to the bed and crawling towards you on the mattress. Before you could react, his hand came down sharply on your overly sensitive clit and you wailed, body jolting as pleasure and pain spasmed through you.

“Don’t be coy with me, naughty little bunny. I have them for less mess. Which is your doing,” He emphasised with another, lighter slap to your clit, then massaged it with the slightly rough pad of his fingers. “You keep invading my dreams and I have to sort out the problem you cause.”

Oh fuck, you whined as your mind was filled with thoughts of Aaron waking from erotic dreams about you, fucking his fist at the thought of you afterwards.

“G-god that’s so hot, daddy!” you moaned, rolling your hips involuntarily and he grunted.

“It’s been torture, is what it is.” Aaron came to kneel between your spread legs again, this time his hips were flushed with your thighs, and he tore open the little wrapper with his skillful fingers. But as he began rolling the rubber over his thick shaft, his hands faltered and his cock twitched. “Oh god.”

You tilted your head.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

Aaron didn’t say anything at first as he secured the condom in place, but then he pressed the length down against your squishy stomach and mound and you realised what he was thinking about.

“Look how small you are compared to daddy’s cock.” He marvelled. And he was right. He was so thick, at least three of his fingers in width, with the tip ending at the midway point of your low abdomen. Oh… You felt your pussy clench in anticipation.

“I…I don’t know if it’ll fit, daddy.”

You sucked your lip into your mouth, wiggling your hips as you shifted to get comfortable. Aaron cooed at you.

“Aww don’t worry bunny, daddy will make sure it fits.”

Grasping his cock and shifting back just enough to align the bulbous head with your pussy, he slowly brushed it up and down, using his other hand to spread your lips to expose more of your clit to him as he massaged it with his cock. You were gasping out cute, little noises which only encouraged him to grind more, thrusting over the hood of the sensitive nub with a quiet grunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. You ready to take my cock, little bunny?” He rumbled and you grasped for the hand spreading your folds.

“Please, sir! N-need it so badly~” you whined and with a huffed laugh, Aaron angled his cock in line with your oozing entrance.

“Gonna push inside now, bunny. Be a good girl for me-”

You could feel the pressure on your hole. The sensation of his cockhead slowly pushing into you made your eyes widen more and more until suddenly, it slid home and stretched you out deliciously.

“O-oh-!” Your mouth was agape, and Aaron groaned deeply with the sensation of your pussy clenching around his tip. Christ, you already felt full to the brim. But then as his hand slammed down onto the pillow beside your head in an attempt to stay upright, his cock slid in further- easing into you more and stretching you out a little bit at a time. “Fuck!” You moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

His own moan joined yours, deep and sensual and one of the best sounds you had ever heard. He stilled, holding himself up as he waited for you to adjust.

“F-fuck- sorry, sweetheart- you just feel so good I lost my balance for a moment.” He grunted, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You alright?”

You nodded, straining your neck up to press your lips to his cheek over the beauty mark under his right eye.

“I am, don’t worry. Feels so good, I promise.” You murmured softly, smiling up at him. He chuckled and a delightful blush tinted his cheeks.

“Okay, okay. Gonna slide out a bit and try to get a little deeper, bunny.”

Pulling his hips back, you felt his length retreating until only the tip remained, then he lightly thrusted forward with a soft grunt again. Slowly, inch-by-inch he worked his cock inside you, encouraged by your soft moans. And then, you felt his hips press against the back of your thighs, stuffed full of his fat cock. Your eyes were blown wide, whining loudly when you felt the pad of his thumb brush against your clit.

“S-full…” you slurred, hands reaching for Aaron’s arms to grip onto. He was clenching his jaw, resisting the urge to fuck into you until you were ready.

“You take me so well, bunny- fuck!” Your pussy clenched around him from his praising and it took every ounce of his strength not to fall on top of you again.

You felt impossibly stuffed full of him with a dull ache throbbing through your lower abdomen, though not entirely unpleasant.

“P-please…”

“Please, what? Use your words, pretty bunny.” Aaron teased and you whined whilst pushing your hips up at him.

“Please move, daddy!” you finally whined out and he kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

Slowly sliding his cock out of you, your pussy clinging to his shaft like a vice grip, he paused when only the tip remained. And then he thrusted forward in one firm movement, spearing you on his length to the hilt. You cried out in time with his grunt, and slowly he picked up a pace. IN and out, in and out, your body jolting in time with every thrust, to which Aaron grabbed onto one of your breasts to leverage himself.

“Feel so fucking good around my cock- fuck- good little bunny-” Aaron grunted and emphasised his words every time he bottomed out, his voice more husky than usual as pleasure burned through his entirety. You could only moan and wail, the pressure of his cock stretching out your hole and the prominent vein running along the topside of his shaft stimulated your clitoris from within.

“S-so much- Aah-Aaron!” You wailed as your words melted into moans, not even paying attention to the fact his name had slipped through. You felt Aaron’s hips stutter and he swore loudly, curling downward and kissing your neck hungrily. His pace quickened, his cock barely pulling out more than halfway now and stimulating the roof of your pussy more thoroughly. But you least expected his hand grabbing your breast to let go, only to slap your poor clit and making you cry out barely lower than a scream. “Sir!”

Aaron pulled upright to glare down at you, still fucking his cock into you roughly,

“That’s not what you called me just now, you fucking naughty girl.” He hissed as he slapped your clit again. You howled, back arching and your legs tried to close but were blocked by his hips.

“Please! I’m sorry, daddy! Feels too good~”

“I haven’t even been fucking you for that long and you’re already this brainless? Fucking filthy.” He spat, rubbing his fingers over you clit rapidly. You writhed beneath him, not caring about having shame as your pleasure began to swell. He scoffed. “I can feel you pulsing. Gonna cum, are you? Go on, cum for daddy like the filthy fucking bunny you are.”

The pleasure was burning now, spreading through your core until you let out a broken moan, grabbing Aaron by the shoulders and pulling him down on top of you, his fingers still rapidly toying with your sensitive nub. It was blinding, no other orgasm had compared to this one before. Being so full of him, surrounded by him, his relentless movements… You were spasming hard, your body trying to shy away from the overwhelming pleasure but Aaron pulled you back with his free hand.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, bunny.”

You whined as oversensitivity caused your body to shiver uncontrollably. Aaron finally relented, though still kept you stuffed with his cock and he brushed his lips against your cheek. “You doing okay?” he whispered softly and you nodded, smiling a little,

“God yeah, you’re fucking wild!” You giggled when he huffed out a laugh and nuzzled your cheek against his. “We can keep going, that was just the most intense orgasm I think I’ve ever had.”

“Jeez, well it was certainly the most intense sensation I’ve felt around my cock, I’ll tell you that.”

With one last kiss to your cheek, Aaron pulled back and his demeanour shifted back to being stern and dominant. He eyed the place where you two bodies joined and he hummed.

“Don’t move, daddy wants to check something, ‘kay?”

You whimpered as you felt his cock slowly pulling out of your oversensitive channel but then you squeaked when he pulled the tip out entirely, followed by a gush of your juices. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, pushing your thighs back until you knees reached your chest. “Hold them there.”

You complied immediately, gripping the back of your knees and struggling a little bit with the sweat that had built up there. With his hands free now though Aaron carefully pried your folds apart and he groaned loudly. You twitched.

“Wh-what is it?”

His eyes dragged up to your face and he smirked.

“Wanted to see how much you’d stretched for daddy, bunny. You’re fucking gaping.”

You felt your eyes widen and a full-body shiver coursed through you.

“Oh my god.”

He hummed deeply again, then leaned his body down to swipe his tongue around your slightly gaping entrance. You could barely make a noise before he sat up again and pushed his cock back inside in one quick movement and you gasped loudly. With your knees pressed to your chest it felt as though he pushed impossibly deeper inside you and it made you mewl for him. He was rolling his hips sensually into you, moaning in his sensually baritone voice.

“Fuck… Don’t think I’m gonna last too much longer, sweetheart.” He huffed out when he felt you clenching around him again. You let go of your legs, hooking them over his shoulders and instead grasping hold of his hands.

“S’okay, me neither-”

Aaron’s pubic bone rubbed against your swollen clit, the hair tickling it with the roll of his hips. He squeezed your dominant hand and moved it between your bodies but didn’t let go, instead guiding your circles around the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, good girl. My fucking good bunny.” He encouraged you. Pleasure was building again rapidly within you, and you turned your head to bite into the pillow cradling your head.

“F-fuck! Please- please!”

Aaron picked up the pace, pulling out just enough to piston in and out of you and his noises raised an octave higher.

“Shit- (Y/n)!” He moaned and that was it for you. Your body shook and quivered almost violently, eyes rolling back into your head as you wailed Aaron’s name. Simultaneously, his cock twitched prominently as he orgasmed, his body tensing aside from his bucking hips. There was no end, your pussy clenching around him in response to his hand guiding your clitoral stimulation, in turn prolonging his own overwhelming pleasure. Before it became all too much, he let go of your hand and both dropped onto the mattress, utterly fucked out.

The room was quiet aside from your mutually heavy breathing and the rush of blood in your ears. You could feel Aaron softening inside you now as the two of you calmed down but you whined and grabbed hold of him when he tried to pull away.

“No, stay!”

“Honey, I’ll collapse on you, and I’ve gotta take care of the condom.” He said softly to which you scowled at him.

“Ugh, but I wanna cuddle.” You protested weakly. He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“You need to pee too, pretty girl.”

You only slightly hated that he was right about that. A few minutes later, with some water and some snacks you had in your go-bag, the two of you cuddled up to one another under the covers, still bare but cosy. Initially, Aaron had protested laying half on top of you as you requested, but quickly accepted it with a light-hearted laugh when you pulled him down onto you and wrapped your limbs around him. It felt natural, as though you’d always been together. And it filled you with butterflies.

You brushed your fingers through his messy, dark hair and studied the beauty of his face when he lifted his head up from your bust to look at you. The corner of your mouth twitched.

“D’you wanna, um, maybe go for coffee sometime?”

Aaron grinned.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want this to just be, y’know, sex.” You said softly. He pressed a kiss to your chest just below your collarbones lovingly.

“Neither do I. I’d love to go out for coffee with you.”

And you beamed at him, your cheeks tinted with a rosy glow.

The following morning you followed alongside Aaron to the hotel reception area to meet up with the others, eyes still a bit bleary as you blinked rapidly. The others were already waiting for you, it turned out and immediately your stride faltered when you saw the expression on their faces. Oh no.

“Well, well! There you two are!” Derek chortled and you wished the floor would swallow you whole. His eyes fixed on you and he grinned widely. “Hey bunny! Sleep well?”You stopped in your tracks, as did Aaron and he glanced back at you, meeting your eye. You were in for a very long flight home.

Jesus christ that was the longest fucking standalone fic ever. I hope yawl enjoyed it if you stuck around until the end here 😭😭 thank you so much for reading!!!

Tagged people: @tgskitten @hoffmanfan13

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #hotch smut #nsfw. #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week. 

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures. 

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August. 

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again. 

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night.  And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning. 

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation. 

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on. 

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on. 

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead. 

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go. 

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY.  SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN…  SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth. 

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say? 

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her? 

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t. 

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her! 

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.  

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type. 

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.  

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it. 

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again. 

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history. 

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself. 

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything. 

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores. 

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.  

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate. 

He chose Adaline Dupree. 

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is. 

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures. 

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything. 

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt. 

You didn’t expect it to hurt. 

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you. 

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation. 

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning. 

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow. 

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t. 

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]:  isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least?  SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.” 

“Thanks, me too.” 

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook. 

But is he just Jungkook anymore?  

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else? 

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles. 

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her. 

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried. 

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great. 

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do. 

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes. 

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses. 

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth. 

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried. 

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago. 

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally. 

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together. 

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship. 

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence. 

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted. 

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and  to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.  

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created. 

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now. 

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world. 

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty. 

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task. 

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes.  “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point. 

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone. 

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him. 

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her? 

Oh.

Oh… 

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline. 

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why. 

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night. 

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another. 

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence. 

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far. 

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was. 

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship. 

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures. 

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand. 

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts. 

He wants real.

He wants authentic. 

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead. 

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet. 

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him. 

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too? 

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy. 

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue. 

Don’t say shit Y/N. 

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same. 

At. All. 

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.” 

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.” 

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King. 

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her. 

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice. 

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive. 

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever. 

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front. 

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him. 

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel. 

And not him. 

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend. 

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t. 

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else. 

For the person who has a boyfriend. 

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you. 

Because it’s you. 

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him? 

For being happy with who makes you happy? 

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart. 

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official. 

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to. 

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is. 

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck. 

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far. 

More, then. 

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-nine] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

“How much longer until we reach it?”

“You’ve asked that six times in the past ten minutes!”

“That’s because no one’s given me an answer!”

“Because no one knows, Felix! None of us have hiked this path before.”

Felix grumbled something behind his brother’s back but he must not have heard because he didn’t argue further.

The majority of the hike thus far had been uphill, something that the park rangers had neglected to mention when they sent you off into the forest. Thankfully, the mountains and canopy of trees provided some kind of shade but it was still scorching hot. And humid. And you were sweating like crazy. 

Everyone was. Minho had already taken his shirt off and Felix had completely sweat through his. That was probably why he was complaining so much. He refused to take it off, though. Something about not wanting to get sunburned again. 

“You doing okay?” Jisung asked, looking over at you. 

The two of you had found yourselves in the middle of the pack for once, walking behind his parents and in front of his brothers. 

“Yeah, fine,” you answered, trying not to sound as out of breath as you felt. 

“Did you bring your inhaler?”

“Um...”

“Why do I even ask?”

-

After fifteen more minutes of walking and a bathroom break, you finally reached the waterfall. 

Felix sighed. “That’s it? We walked all this way for this?” 

“Shut up, Felix,” Jisung snapped. “It just looks small from the bridge, it’s not actually that small.”

“I’d say it’s a pretty average size,” you added, “maybe even kind of big.”

Minho laughed behind you. Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to hear your comment. To be fair to Felix, it wasn’t a huge waterfall. It certainly wasn’t the biggest waterfall in Hawai’i, but it was one of the few that visitors could swim under. That’s what made it so popular. 

And the bridge had made it look smaller than it really was. 

There was an area to rinse off before and after getting in the water so you all took turns under the showerhead. 

Nikki was the only one who didn’t want to swim, which meant that she was stuck with all of the bags. You felt sort of bad when Jisung handed over the backpack you were sharing but Nikki assured you that it was fine, that she would rather hold them for you than have you rent one of the rusty lockers to store it in. 

Waimea Falls required everyone to wear a life jacket, regardless of swimming ability. You knew it was a liability thing but you still couldn’t help but shiver when you slung on the cold, wet vest and buckled it around your chest. Who knew how many people had worn it before you today.

Shoes were optional so you left your sandals in the gravel by the bleachers and tiptoed your way back over to the edge of the water. The boys did the same. 

The five of you stood there, staring at the rocks leading down into the lagoon, trying to figure out how to proceed without falling. It was hard to determine the best way in as all of the rocks that were big enough to step on were either jagged and/or slippery.

“Ladies first,” Felix said unceremoniously.

You glared at him but decided to take a step down anyway. Someone had to go first and since everyone else was being a pussy it might as well be you. You moved at a snail’s pace, trying your best to move in a way that wouldn’t send you tumbling down the incline if you misstepped. 

The rocks seemed stable enough to hold your weight without sliding around in the mud but one of them wobbled under you upon stepping on it, making you nearly lose your balance. 

“Careful!” Jisung and Minho shouted at the same time, causing you to turn around and make a face at them both. 

They traded weird looks with each other before turning their attention back to you, who had made significant progress toward the water. By the time you finally reached the edge, the boys had started trekking down behind you, much more haphazardly than you had. 

You extended your leg out in front of you to feel it out, trying not to scream when your toes grazed the water. It was freezing, way colder than you expected, but you knew it would feel incredible once you were fully submerged. It was one of if not the hottest days of the trip and you had sweat through everything. Even the life vest they’d saddled you with was beginning to feel sticky. 

“How is it?” Jisung called from behind you. 

“Feels good!” you lied, not trusting yourself to turn around and show him your face. He’d know you were bluffing instantly. 

Since you didn’t want to hold up the line, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself off of the ledge, finding your footing with both feet in the water. The bed of the lagoon was also covered with rocks. They were more slippery than the ones on the path seeing as they were wet and covered with algae so you had to be extra careful. 

You moved away from the shore so that the boys could get in after you. 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” was Jisung’s shout from behind you.

You turned back to see him submerged up to his waist. He apologized to the people around him for cursing before glaring at you. 

“You little brat!” he muttered, lunging at you.

You let out a yelp as the weight of your best friend dragged you under. You both emerged with dripping hair, laughing and sputtering. 

“You said it felt good!”

“It does! It’s refreshing!”

“It’s cold as fuck,” he muttered, “and you knew that.”

“What, can’t take a little chill?” you taunted.

He splashed you. 

“Are we going to swim over to the waterfall or what?” Minho’s voice echoed from behind you both, sounding annoyed. 

Jisung smirked before turning around to face his older brother. 

“We don’t all have to go together. You could have gone on without us.”

Felix was the last to get in, gingerly stepping on the algae-covered rocks to make his way over to the three of you. Dom stayed by the edge, content to keep Nikki company from the water. He claimed to be too old to swim against the current just to get thousands of gallons of water dunked on him. 

“Let’s go, babe,” Jisung said, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the waterfall.

Swimming to the base of the waterfall proved to be a lot more difficult than it looked. The current was strong and moving against it required a lot of effort. People who weren’t strong swimmers had no chance of making it all the way under. 

It was doable for you, but not without struggle. The boys seemed to be in the same boat, save for Minho, who was the fittest out of all of you. He was already several strokes ahead of the rest of you when Jisung called out for him to wait up. He paused and tread water while he waited for you and the twins to catch up. 

“I thought we were going together,” Felix panted bitterly. 

“Not my fault you guys are slow,” he rebutted. 

“Maybe we should hold hands,” Jisung suggested and pointed to another family who was making significantly more progress. “They’re doing it.”

“You think that’s going to work?” you asked. 

“Yeah, how do we know you guys aren’t just going to hold me back?”

Felix clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Minho-”

“You could stand to pull some more weight, K-pop boy,” Jisung pointed out.

“Tsk, fine. How should we do this?”

Minho obviously helmed the line. You were stuck between him and Jisung, with Felix bringing up the rear. You didn’t argue about your place in the order but it did feel strange to be holding both Minho and Jisung’s hands at the same time. You couldn’t tell whether they felt similarly but you had to assume they did. 

Minho tugged you along and you pulled Jisung in turn. They held on to you tightly so as not to lose you in the tide. You tried to focus on keeping your head above the surface instead of the feeling of both of their hands in yours. 

Jisung’s hand-holding strategy actually worked and you made it to the waterfall twice as fast as you would have on your own. 

Trying to get under the waterfall was another ordeal. The water pressure was so aggressive that you had to fight against the water in order to get up on the rocks right beneath the stream. 

“This kind of hurts!” Jisung shouted over the roaring of the water. 

“Yeah, I think I’m getting bruises!” Minho agreed. 

“You guys are pussies!” you yelled, even though it did hurt and you wouldn’t be surprised if was bruising you. 

“I think Mom is trying to take a picture!” Felix screamed.

Automatically, all four of you posed even though you couldn’t see where Nikki was and you could barely open your eyes under the stream. You grabbed for Jisung but got Minho instead, accidentally squeezing his ass in an effort to hold his hand. How you mixed up the person standing beside you and mis-approximated where their wrist was, you didn’t know, but you immediately let go once you realized your mistake and fumbled for the right person’s hand instead. 

If Jisung noticed what happened, he didn’t say anything about it. Minho definitely did notice and you could see him trying not to laugh out of the corner of your eye. 

“Should we swim back now?” one of the boys, you weren’t sure which, asked after you had stood there for what felt long enough for their mother to have snapped a couple of photos. 

“You guys can, I think y/n and I are going to swim around by ourselves for a bit longer.”

That was news to you but you weren’t necessarily upset about it. You hadn’t been in the water for long anyway and you wanted to make the most of it. And if Jisung wanted to be alone with you, you weren’t going to say no. 

Your number one priority was winning him back, making it up to him, as much as you could. 

You followed Jisung to a secluded part of the pool, letting him tug you along as you floated on your back. Minho and Felix either got out or fucked off to another part of the lagoon. You weren’t paying attention when you split up and you weren’t about to look for them. 

“Did you want to talk about something?” you asked your best friend. 

“No, just wanted some space from my brothers.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Did you want to talk about something?” he parroted. 

You made a face. “No, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

You could tell he knew what you referring to immediately from the way his expression shifted. 

“Not here, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement. He was right, you should have that conversation somewhere private. Still, you took his answer as a good sign. ‘Not here’ implied that there was somewhere that you would have that conversation, which meant that he was willing to have it. You counted that as a win. A very small win, but a win nonetheless. 

“What?” Jisung asked, squinting at you through the sunlight. 

“Huh?”

“What’s got you smiling like that? What’s on your mind?”

You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out. 

“Just happy to be here with you.”

-

You had dinner at some famous burger place that night. You were too tired to pay much attention to what you were eating or what everyone was talking about but you’re pretty sure the food tasted good. 

The restaurant was in the middle of their dinner rush when your party arrived so you had to wait for a table. There was a small surf shop attached to the same building so you went with the boys to check it out while Nikki and Dom scoped out somewhere to sit. Everything was expensive so no one bought anything but window shopping kept you occupied for the time being. 

After dinner, you rode with Jisung’s parents back to the resort. He seemed indifferent to your presence this time, which you took as another win. He held your hand in the back seat and you rested your head on his shoulder. Neither of you fell asleep but you kept your eyes closed, enjoying the silence.

“We’re here, kids,” Nikki said softly once Dom had parked in the lot.

Jisung stretched, forcing you to sit up too. You thanked them for the ride, and for dinner since they paid, before Jisung asked if you wanted to take a walk on the beach. 

“Sure, let’s go.”

He led you by the hand through the maze of buildings to the hotel’s beach entrance. You passed other couples as you strolled past the pool and the firepits and it made your heart sink a little. You were jealous of them. Jealous that they could enjoy each other’s company out in the open like that. Jealous that they looked so happy. Jealous that they weren’t sacrificing one relationship for another. 

You were definitely projecting, they absolutely could have been in the same situation as you and you would never know but you refused to acknowledge that possibility because you were resolute on feeling bitter. 

The sun hadn’t fully set yet despite the late hour. Being that it was still the middle of summer, it wouldn’t get dark until much later than usual. You were also convinced that daylight lingered longer in Hawai’i than it did in other places but you had no evidence to back that up. 

“Here, I’ll carry your shoes for you,” Jisung offered, holding out his free hand for them. 

You paused. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like the feeling of sand in your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

You bent down to undo your sandals and handed them to Jisung. He looped the straps around two of his fingers and resumed holding your hand. 

The sand was still warm, holding on to the heat of the day. 

“Are we going all the way down to the water?” you asked. 

“If you want to,” Jisung answered. 

“I don’t really feel like getting wet again.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You settled for walking along the outline of the tide where the sand was still dry. You followed the curves of the waves from hours past, tracing the remnants of high tide with your arms out like you were walking on a tightrope. Jisung trailed behind you for a few moments before catching up with you again. 

You had pulled your hand out of his grasp moments earlier to run ahead, distracted by the seafoam in the distance. You waited for him and put your arms back by your sides. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch you,” you sighed when he reappeared at your side. 

“I know,” he replied. 

Instead of offering you his hand this time, he gave you his elbow. You took it gently, resting your hand on his bicep. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet. You wondered what was on his mind. When he invited you down here, you thought it would be to talk, to finally have that conversation. Maybe it had been and he changed his mind. Or maybe it had never been his intention in the first place. 

You were starting to think you’d never get an answer when he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

You tensed but kept walking, not wanting to confront whatever expression might be on Jisung’s face. If you stopped, you would have to look at him or stare at the ground. If you continued walking, you could just look straight. 

“I... didn’t mean that shit... about wishing I never met you. Or any of it really. I wanted to mean it. But I couldn’t, because none of it’s true. I was just really hurt. I still am, to be honest.”

“I understand,” you responded. 

“I want us to move past this,” he continued, “but it still feels really fresh. I mean, I only found out about you and Min a few days ago.”

You nodded as you listened. He was right. It had only been a handful of days even though it felt like an eternity. Being at odds with Jisung was hell. He was your best friend, after all. You had lived life with him by your side for the past four years. You didn’t want to imagine what that would look like without him. 

“Right.”

He cocked his head to the side, lost in thought. 

“I’m sorry too,” you added, wanting to reiterate just how shitty you felt about the whole thing. 

“I know,” he said softly. “I know you are. I knew you were then too. I’m sorry for invalidating your apology-”

“Don’t be!” you interrupted. “My actions and my words... they don’t add up. I would’ve thought I was bullshitting too.”  

Jisung scratched the back of his neck and forced a laugh. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy to wrap my head around. But I get it, I think. There’s just something about Minho, isn’t there?” 

You snuck a glance at him but didn’t say anything. You had a feeling it was a rhetorical question. 

“You must have been miserable this whole time. Trying to push down your feelings for him and then finally acting on them but being consumed by guilt when you finally do.”

“It hasn’t been the best,” you admitted, “but it’s my own fault.”

“Not entirely,” Jisung reasoned. 

You were surprised he was coming to your defense but you figured he’d go up to bat for anyone if it was against Minho. 

“Enough of it is.”

Your best friend shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re known for your decision-making skills.”

You scoffed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed a real laugh for the first time in days. You had missed hearing it. It made you smile too. You rested your head on his shoulder and for once it felt natural. 

“I really am sorry, Ji,” you sighed, your voice wavering. 

“I know. I can’t pretend that I’m over it... but I will be. I also know that I can’t ask you to end things with him...”

“You can-”

“No,” he murmured. “I can’t. You would resent me for it.” You opened your mouth to protest but Jisung shook his head and you closed it again. “You would. Maybe unconsciously, but you would. Things wouldn’t be the same.”

“Things won’t be the same if I don’t end things with him,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he agreed solemnly. Then he sighed as if it was something he had already come to terms with. “But you’ll still love me the same. And that’s enough.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #stray kids series

[foone]

So I'm annoyed at a collage of minidiscs ending up in my timeline because I follow "diskette" but that's not important...

You know how weird the etymology of "diskette" is?

So, it's a portmanteau of "disk" and "cassette".

Disk as in "a round flat thing", and it's the American spelling, because the diskette was invented by IBM, an American company. Disk (usually spelled "disc" in commonwealth countries) comes from the Greek dískos, as in "discus", the circular thing you throw for sport.

And floppy disks are primarily a circle of magnetic material. That's actually how they were first conceived, as a flexible version of the rigid metal magnetic circles used in hard drives. But they quickly realized that it was impossible to keep them clean: fingerprints and dust stick to the surface too easily, ruining them. So they were given a vinyl (and later, plastic) jacket, so they could be safely carried around.

And thus, diskette was coined. Sometimes you'll see it etymologized as "small disk", like a disk-ette, but that's wrong: it's a portmanteau with cassette. Because cassettes were made by taking reel to reel magnetic tape and putting it in a small case, so they can be quickly and reliably loaded.

And why are cassettes called that? Well, it's French. But in French it's quite simple: it's the diminutive of "casse", which means case. It's a little case. You put the tape in a little box. It's a cassette.

So similarly, diskette was made by cassettizing "disk". You put the disk in a little case. It's a disk cassette, a diskette.

This sort of thinking also explains why they're called "floppy disks" when they've been hard plastic since 1984: it's just like how we call cassettes "tapes". They're not tape, they're a little plastic box containing tape. Tape is a thin flexible thing that you wrap around a spool, not a little plastic box. But we call them "tapes"/"a tape" as synecdoche: a part is used to represent the whole. It's a "tape", fittingly because the tape is the important part. It's the part that stores the audio, the rest is just packaging to keep it safe and reliable.

Floppy disks are similarly called such: the floppy part is the magnetic disk inside the vinyl or plastic case. We're calling the whole package by the part that actually stores the data.

And in any case, they were named as such in comparison to "hard disks": the metal or glass surfaces used by hard drives.

Anyway, three final things:

1. You ever wonder why it's Floppy Disk but optical discs? You have a DVD* disc or a CD (compact disc), not a DVD Disk or Compact Disk. I already basically explained it: floppies were invented in the US, and compact discs came from a Philips/Sony partnership: a Dutch/Japanese partnership. So they used the commonwealth spelling, thus it became a standard to refer to optical media as "discs".

2. My favorite silly floppy fact comes from this sort of thing: so the first floppies were 8", then the 5.25" model was invented, and in 1981 we got the 3.5" floppy. These are by far the three most common floppy disks, and those are their names, used nearly** universally in English.

But here's the thing: one of them is wrong.

8 inch floppy disks? They're eight inches even. 5.25 inch floppy disks? They're 5.25 inches even.

3.5" disks are actually 3.543"!

This is for the same reason why we have disk vs disc for floppy and optical media: 8" disks were invented by IBM, an American company. 5.25" disks were invented by Shugart/Wang, both American companies.

3.5" disks were invented by Sony, a Japanese company. They're not 3.5" disks... They're 90mm disks!

But it was already the standard in English that floppy disk formats get called by their size in inches, so it has always been called the 3.5" disk, because that's close enough for jazz.

3. to get back to the first point of this post: minidiscs aren't diskettes. Diskette is for disks, and minidiscs are discs. They're not flexible, they're rigid: minidiscs are actually magneto-optical discs, where there's a small plastic disc like a CD, which is read by a laser but written by a magnetic read head. Since they have to be rigid for the laser to work, they're (rigid) discs, not (flexible) disks. They are confusing, I agree: usually magnetic media is disk, while optical is disc, and disks have cases, while discs are just a plastic circle... But minidiscs are magnetic AND optical, and they're optical but inside a case. They're one of those exceptions that makes taxonomy so difficult. (they're very trans in that way, imo)

* I intentionally didn't expand out the acronym DVD, because the fun fact is about that is that DVD is not an acronym. Not anymore. It was originally supposed to be Digital Video Disc, but the later Digital Versatile Disc to better reflect the non-video uses of the disc, but apparently the official meaning of the acronym is now that it just is the name of the disc. It's a DVD: it doesn't stand for anything.

** one exception to the "universally called by their sizes in English" that I'm aware of is South Africa. For Reasons they just called the 5.25" disks "floppies", and then when 3.5" disks came around, they called them... "stiffies". Yes, this is hilarious. They know.

#Floppy disks #etymology #minidisc #My articles

[partypuppynastja]

Transgender Day of Remembrance

This year’s official list has 327 names:

Those murdered were disproportionately women, usually around my age, more often women of colour. Many more will have gone unreported, and/or misgendered in their deaths.

One of those murders is from my native UK—there was also an attempted murder not far from here though, a trans woman stabbed on her doorstep. Fortunately, she survived. I wonder how many other non-fatal attacks were made in the same year.

51 were in the US; that’s more than one per state. Brazil was worst, with 96 (with a similar population size).

9 were tortured to death; another 3 burned alive; another 3 dismembered.

It can be hard to understand why people hate us so much. We’re mostly just trying to live our lives. I guess we’re an easy target, and dehumanised enough in popular media that our deaths elicit little care. I remember the first time I read in a newspaper about a trans woman being killed, the headline was written as a punchline, “transvestite beaten to death with hoe”, and the article was worse. 

Fast-forward and today the jokes normalising such violence get Netflix specials, and the more serious hate-mongers get #IStandWith— hashtags in their support, as they go on their “I’ve been cancelled” tour and given every platform available. Politicians debate, and “sensible centrists” call for understanding from both sides, which tends to amount to “well we must understand that trans people can’t help being trans, and trans people must understand that we have Legitimate Concerns™ that if we don’t take seriously enough will just result in violence against trans people”. And so the microphone gets passed to the transphobe-du-jour.

Eventually, the world will get better. Education improves, community (and thus a little safety) is easier to find, transphobes start to realise history will judge their crimes like every other bigotry and ‘phobia and ‘ism. Those who are “not transphobic but” will learn to put aside their biases; those who are openly transphobic will become “not transphobic but”. It may never die out, just like racism hasn’t, just like homophobia hasn’t, and so forth, but it will get better. We just have to live to see it.

And that gives me strength sometimes, gives me an extra reason to survive when I don’t always want to. Transphobes want to see me die, and I will do my level best to thrive instead. It’s not easy and sometimes I feel like a flower growing through concrete. 

But like a flower growing through concrete, I know where I’ve come from and I know where I’m going. I can’t know whether I’ll make it, but I know I must keep trying, and the further I get, the easier it will get along the way. It doesn’t mean there won’t be the occasional storm, or freeze. But, there’s sunshine too. There is love in the world; there is hope.

We owe it to the fallen to live, to thrive, and to strive to make things better in this world.

#Transgender Day of Remembrance #TDoR #Transgender #Trans

[drawlfoy]

the benefits of journaling p.1

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: she/her pronouns/reader that stays in the girl's dorms, language, eventual discussion of murder and whatnot but not yet!, you being a little femcel-aligned/obsessed, tom being awkward because he's been stuck in a diary without talking to anyone for 50 years, i fumble around trying to explain how to brew potions after taking only one semester of high school biology

please note that this tom riddle is definitely not the same tom riddle that dumbledore describes in canon. i read a few meta posts that rewired my brain and now my tom riddle is ~complicated~ and not just evil and murdery for the plot. so just keep that in mind lol

a/n: whoa is this....something other than draco on this blog? yes. im suffering right now and needed to get this out. hopefully i can get this longfic completed within 2-3 parts! i'm not using my usual taglist because i don't know how many of my draco readers want this

wc: 10k

The day you unknowingly bought a part of the late Lord Voldemort’s soul was like any other. It was overcast, the thick clouds a somber, humid ceiling hanging above you and Lucy as you made your way through the annual antiques sale in a dusty corner of Diagon Alley.

“Y/N,” said your companion for the day—a slight, freckled witch with mushroom brown waves and a perpetual smile etched into her mouth. “Look. This is so you.”

You looked up from the bookshelves of one of the stands. It took you a moment to see what she was holding, but once it came into focus, you rolled your eyes. “Oh, sod off. Not funny.” 

Lucy just cackled, tossing the crudely carved wooden snake back onto the pile wearing a wicked grin. 

The world is cruel in that you can scream once when you see Draco Malfoy’s pet ball python in third year and no one ever lets you forget it. 

You turned away from Lucy, looking back to the old bookshelf that had been moved onto the cobbled street. The rich mahogany wood was close to buckling under the weight of all the tomes stacked haphazardly atop each other—far more than would be advisable. 

But it wasn’t just the furniture that caught your eye. No, it was the glimpse of a black spine on the bottom, partially hidden away by an ancient encyclopedia on arithmancy. 

You knelt, carefully arranging your robes so that they wouldn’t pick up dust from the street. You narrowly managed to avoid sending all the books on top tumbling into the street by slowly sliding it out from under the stack.

An unimpressively sized black journal laid in your hand, looking entirely unassuming and incredibly boring. 

You frowned. A quick flip-through confirmed that it was in fact a journal—and that there was nothing written in it. 

Why would someone try to sell an unused journal at an antiques market? You wondered, turning it over in your hand. Though its pages appeared entirely pristine, you could see some wear on the cover. There were no markings detailing when it had been manufactured.

It could very well have been an antique journal, you conceded. But why anyone would want an empty journal made years ago was beyond you.

You went to set the journal back onto the stack, getting so far as to nearly loosen your grip and let it drop from your fingers, when—

You had to buy this journal. 

You weren’t sure why, or how. You just knew that this journal was coming home with you today, even if it was the least interesting thing you could’ve come across in your shopping trip.

“What’s that?” asked Lucy, appearing at your side and gently taking the journal from you. 

“Just an empty journal, I think,” you answered, staring blankly at it in her hands. 

“You know we can just get a normal new one at the bookstore, right?” 

“Well, I like this one,” you heard yourself say. “It has…character.”

“Character.” She snorted, holding it up next to her face. “This is the most bland looking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Consider yourself blind, then. Surely they’ll charge you twice the cost for this since it’s allegedly ‘vintage’.” Lucy made liberal use of air quotes. “You sure you don’t want to stop by the bookstore before we go? It’ll be on our way.”

“No, it’s really fine,” you said, taking it back into your hands, “I really like this one for some reason. I don’t know. There’s just something about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, giving it one last odd look. “Whatever you say. You go check out, then. Mum’s going to expect me back soon and the queue looks a bit long.” 

The journal sat in your bag for the remainder of the summer, nearly forgotten as you went about your day. You opened it for the first time to examine it on August 31st, just a day before you were off to begin your 6th year.

There was writing that you hadn’t noticed before—thin, elegant script on the inside of the cover in black lettering. A simple “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

You stared, letting your finger trace gently across the parchment. There was a slight indentation at the lower swoop of the last letter “L”, like whoever had written it had pressed a little too hard with his quill. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” you whispered, trying the syllables out on your tongue. You’d never heard of any wizard named that before. You wondered how long it had been since those words had been written. You wondered if Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, and if he was, why he saw it fit to mark his property and then swiftly lose its custody to an antiques dealer. 

Oh well. Sucks to suck, you thought dryly as you took the quill that you’d been using to finish updating your calendar and lifted it over the parchment. Whatever happened to the crusty old dinosaur that hadn’t even been able to make one full entry into his own journal before croaking or whatever was none of your business.

You’d barely started out how you imagined a normal person would begin a diary—a date, August 31st—when it suddenly became clear why this Tom fellow had been unable to leave a lasting mark. 

The ink hadn’t even begun to dry before it sank into the pages, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, dumbstruck. You dipped your quill in ink once again and drew a series of short slashes across the first page, using more ink than was strictly necessary.

In a moment it was as if they had never been there.

WHAT??? You wrote mindlessly in the freshly blank page as your mind spun. What kind of magic was this? And what was the point? 

No wonder you’d been drawn to it. It was probably dripping in all sorts of charms. Maybe the combination had been unintentionally alluring to particular passerbys. 

Before you could think any further, the clean page transformed again, but not at your hand.

Hello.

The word assembled letter by letter, as if a ghost was writing it over your shoulder. 

It seems you've found my journal.

You stared. A journal that could write back to you. Huh. A smile caught on your lips as you became glad after all that you’d chosen this one over a plain bookstore version. 

How old are you? You wrote, resting your chin in your palm as you waited for a response as to whether or not your new acquisition actually belonged at the antiques market. 

Sixteen.

You frowned. That was hardly vintage.

This was made sixteen years ago?

The response appeared quickly..

No. I'm sixteen.

Yeah. You were made sixteen years ago.

This time, the journal seemed to hem and haw at the response.

What year is it? Was the final answer that appeared.

What year do you think?

1943. 

A little off. you wrote impishly.

Oh really?

Just a smidge.

Define a smidge, please. 

What does it matter to you?

This seemed to stump the journal. 

May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?

You may not. Then, because you had nothing better to do, you dipped your quill and drew out a Tic-Tac-Toe board, placing an X in the middle.

The board disappeared into the page, and for a moment you wondered if you’d annoyed your magical journal too much. But then it reappeared, this time with an O in the middle.

You huffed. When you took too long to respond, another line appeared below. 

I'm Tom. Tom Riddle.

You stared at the letters, the implications sinking in. If the journal had belonged to Tom—who was presumably a real person at some point in his life—then that would mean…which meant…

In seconds you’d slammed the journal shut and had your wand out, poking at the binding and being careful to avoid touching it again with your bare hands. Stupid, stupid you, buying something that had so clearly been engineered to lure you in, just like it probably had done to Tom back in the 40s. 

The antique market rarely had issues with unknowingly cursed objects. They were allegedly thoroughly vetted by the stand officials to ensure that something like this didn’t happen. But perhaps this one had fallen through the cracks.

There was nothing you could do for now except to wrap the journal in a blanket and throw it into your suitcase. As a muggleborn, there was going to be no real magic for you until tomorrow on the train. 

Better to investigate then, you decided firmly. With access to spellwork, you could at least cast protective wards around yourself and try to detect what exactly was wrong with it the next time you touched it. 

Yes, you thought. That cannot possibly go wrong.

~

“Y/N!” 

“Sorry, what was that?” You blearily blinked in the direction of Lucy and Ishan, both sitting there with an expectant look on their faces. 

“I was saying that I’m pretty sure that Parkinson and Malfoy are actually together this time,” said Lucy, frowning. “I just came from the loo and his head was in her lap. Revolting, to be entirely honest. I can’t believe I had to see that with my own eyes. But whatever. Are you feeling alright? You keep spacing out.”

“I’m fine.” You pulled the fabric of your robe over your wrist so you could gently scrub at your eyes. “Just—tough night last night. I barely slept.”

“I totally get that,” mused Lucy, nodding as her gaze fixed itself on the window. “I can normally never get to sleep the night before we leave. I just get so excited for the new year.”

You smiled. “Yeah.” 

But that hadn’t been your problem. Despite the creepy journal encounter that had left you with your mind spinning, you’d fallen asleep deeply the moment you’d gotten into bed. The issue had been staying asleep after all the dreams you’d had. 

You rarely dreamt. When you did and remembered it the next day, it was normally nonsensical and had to do with forgotten final exams or missing a lecture. But last night…last night had been different.

There was a boy. His hair was dark and his face cast mostly in shadow, his voice a tenor that seemed typical to boys in your year. He hadn’t been speaking anything you’d understood, though. The most peculiar, bone-chilling hissing noises came from his mouth as he bowed his head leaned over a vaguely familiar sink. 

Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge you, it was as if a channel had been opened between you two, like you could feel his emotions as phantoms within you. 

Franticness. Vindictiveness. A thirst for vengeance beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

You sat watching this mysterious dark haired boy from the cobbled floor, feeling the wetness on the stones seep into your robes, climbing up and up until it soaked your skin. 

At precisely 4 in the morning, you’d shot awake so distressed that you hadn’t slept a wink after. Needless to say, you were hardly what you’d consider to be well-rested.

The remainder of the train ride and the welcoming feast went on without a hitch. You managed to keep yourself from falling asleep at dinner and even joined in on the cheering for new Ravenclaws. The first years seemed to look younger and younger every year, you noted dully as you cut into the roast on your plate. It was making you feel awfully old.

Sixth year was supposed to be exciting—the year of N.E.W.T.S and figuring out what you’d concentrate in during your final year and getting to go to Hogsmeade without permission. But you hadn’t quite figured out what it was that you wanted to study. Being a muggleborn from a modest upbringing meant that you couldn’t be too frivolous. There was no amateur art or sports or celebrity career in your future. You couldn’t even count on marrying well—or marrying at all, in fact. None of your halfblood or pureblood friends seemed to understand that your family hadn’t already had an engagement arranged for you from the moment you were born. It was hard to look forward to a life that was so cloaked in uncertainty. 

That being said, you had more immediate concerns to attend to. Though the journal was tucked safely away in one of your suitcases far away in the Ravenclaw Tower, you couldn’t help but feel its presence. You were itching to get back to your dorm so you could steal away into a corner and begin to inspect it. 

Dumbledore finally dismissed the students after a rather uninspiring speech about the importance of dreaming big and staying true to yourself. You all but ran up the stairs, rushing to unpack all of your things.

“Merlin,” noted Padma from her desk. “That excited to move in?”

“I just want to go to bed,” you said, relishing the feeling of casting a spell to quickly stow away your skirts and button ups into your dresser. “Long day.”

“And even longer tomorrow.” Lucy was sitting at her desk, her feet crossed at the ankles. She’d somehow unpacked even quicker than you. “Does everyone have their finalized timetable for the term?”

“I’ve got Potions with Slughorn and Transfiguration with McGonagall on Mondays and Thursdays,” you began, unzipping your last bag and flicking your wand to send your school supplies to your desk. “Divination with Trelawney, Arithmancy with Vector, and Runes with Babbling on Tuesdays and Fridays. And of course the extended lab section on Wednesday for Potions.”

“Which lab section?”

“Morning,” you said. The diary was levitating from your wand now, looking unassuming and very innocent under the golden light of your dorm room. “You?”

“Same,” said Lucy, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re taking N.E.W.T level Divination. Do you hate yourself?”

“It was that or History of Magic.”

She nodded emphatically, turning back to make a marking in her planner.

With the dorm settled into a comfortable silence, you brandished your wand again, peering at the diary in front of you. 

There was nothing outwardly sinister about it. When you’d gone over to Ishan’s manor over Easter break last year, he’d shown you some of the (potentially unlawful) darker artifacts that his old pureblood family had in possession. They’d felt dark. This journal didn’t have that syrupy thick feel around it. Its aura felt sparkly, magnetic. Surely it couldn’t have been dark magic. Because all dark magic felt dark, right?

You gulped. You wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands anymore, you reasoned. Just spellwork and using the tip of your wand to maneuver it. Just in case.

Your 5 years of Hogwarts education had left you sorely deficient in useful diagnostic spells, so you dug around in one of your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks from previous years and found a section on spells to examine magical objects. 

Revelo you whispered, feeling the slight jolt of magic as the charm left your wand. 

Nothing, It didn’t even glow blue, a sign of magically active objects. 

Huh. 

You frowned. The slightly more obscure spell you’d heard Snape use once on a student’s suspiciously well-written essay didn’t yield anything either. 

“Whatcha doing?’

You nearly screamed, clutching your wand to your chest. 

Lucy grinned wickedly as she leaned over your shoulder and reached for your journal. “Ooh, is this that thing you bought at—”

“Don’t touch!” You quickly batted her hand away. 

“Sheesh,” said Lucy. “Chill. I wasn’t going to read it or anything. I was just wondering why you were waving your wand at your journal. Secrecy spells?”

“No,” you said. Your heart was racing, “Er—not quite. I actually haven’t written in it, you see,”

“Oh?” Lucy’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Explain the theatrics then?”

A half-baked lie formed at your lips that was about to spill when you stopped yourself. Lucy was your friend. She’d been your best friend since the moment you’d met on the Hogwarts Express during first year. There was no reason to lie.

“It’s so weird!” You motioned towards the diary with your wand. “I buy this, right, because I feel this weird draw to it. And I take it home and try to write in it, and suddenly the book starts writing back.”

“A self-writing journal?” 

“Not quite. Maybe. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s just—something’s not totally right about it, but I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.”

Lucy gave a good natured snort. “A journal? Dangerous? And from old Linda’s stand? Please. I see her going through everything in her inventory. The poor shopboy in charge of vetting items has to answer to her if he slips up. There’s no way anything actually powerful slipped onto the stacks.” 

You stuck the tip of your wand under the cover and carefully pried it open, pointing at the lettering on the inside. 

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” She frowned. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

“I don’t know,” you responded at the swooping lettering. “But the journal talked back like it was Tom. Like, it introduced itself as Tom and said that it was 1943. And it acted like an….I don’t know. It was like it was a real person talking to me.”

“Huh.” You could see the gears slowly turning in Lucy’s head,

“Do you know any detection or diagnostic spells?” you asked. “I tried all the ones that we’ve learned so far and it doesn’t even detect magic. But it has to be cursed, right? If the last owner of this diary got sucked into it?”

Lucy was just beginning to open her mouth when ink began to appear.

It is rather rude to be casting all sorts of spells in my direction without warning.

You jumped. “Jesus Christ. Do you see that?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Lucy, but her eyes were crinkled. “Girl. Don’t worry. If it was dangerous, you’d probably know by now. You’ve had it around you for, what, two months? And you’ve already touched it. It doesn’t feel dark. I don’t think there are any slow burning curses that gradually trap you inside an object. If you’re still alright, you’ll probably stay that way. Maybe you should just ask Tom how he got there?”

“If I start disappearing, do try to keep me in this plane.”

“Noted.”

Nervously, you dipped a quill on your desk into an inkwell, waiting for a moment before thinking up how to word your request. In the meantime, a drop of ink fell to the page. It was quickly swallowed up by the parchment.

Sorry you began. Just wanted to make sure you weren't going to trap me in there with you or something

An understandable concern

“Just ask him the bloody question,” said Lucy, hitting your shoulder. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Right, right.” 

If you'd like me to stop with the spells, maybe you could tell me how you ended up in here in the first place

“Nice,” said Lucy. She was nodding thoughtfully. “Very smooth.” 

It took a long time for Tom’s answer to appear despite the fact that your writing had almost instantly disappeared. Finally, black ink began to rise. 

It was an accident. Nothing that can be replicated by you, however. There's no need to worry. I fooled around with the wrong book in the school library.

“School library?” Lucy leaned closer so that the locks of her hair dangled over your shoulder. “Ask him if he went to Hogwarts.”

Hogwarts? You wrote quickly. 

Yes.

In your sixth year?

Yes.

“Ooh.” Lucy hit your shoulder. “Maybe you can use this to get comfortable talking to boys, Y/N.”

You scoffed, blushing a hot red. “Excuse me! I’ve told you. I’m too busy for that.”

“Uh huh.” She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. “Well, I think you should just keep it. It’s harmless. Like I said, it’s from one of the tamest parts of Diagon Alley. And you wouldn’t be able to get anything genuinely dark into Hogwarts. The wards would’ve detected it. Have fun with it.”

“Have fun with it?”

Lucy shrugged, bouncing once as she settled down on her bed. “I dunno. Think about it. I think a responding diary could be fun. Let’s say I’m not around to gossip one day. You have another outlet. Or maybe you could use him to help you study or something. Really, the possibilities are endless.” 

“True.” You mulled over the thought as you let your wand sit on its stand on your desk. Tentatively you grasped the soft leather of the journal and pulled it nearer to you. Tom was waiting for your response, after all. 

Me too you wrote.

And you still won't tell me your name?

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to tell him my name?” you asked Lucy, whipping around.

She set down her book and shook her head. “What’s he gonna do with it? He’s stuck in there.” 

Y/N. 

A splotch of black appeared on the other end, but it was quickly crossed out. 

How did you find me?

Antiques sale in Diagon Alley

I'm an antique?

Given that 1943 was over 50 years ago, yes

Nothing from Tom.

Is that not what you expected? You added. 

I'm not sure

Just as you were about to close the journal and head to bed, Tom wrote again.

And how are you liking your time at Hogwarts?

It's nice. Fall term starts tomorrow. 

You thought about leaving it there, but for some reason the words began to spill out of you. 

It does feel weird being so close to graduating, though. I don’t know quite what it is that I want to do yet.

Oh? But surely you must have some idea.

You pressed the end of your quill to your lips, debating whether or not to share it with this mysterious Tom. In the end, Lucy’s previous comment was what made the scales tip. What did it matter? Tom wasn’t going to tell anyone.

I would really like to go for a cursebreaking mastery abroad, but that hinges on what happens in my N.E.W.Ts this year. I need an O in Potions. 

I was taking N.E.W.T Potions at the time that I was trapped, Tom wrote. Perhaps I can be of assistance.

I can’t ask that of you.

Please do. It’s terribly boring being all alone in here.

You swallowed, watching the ink slowly sink back into nothing. 

What do you mean? What’s it like being trapped?

It took a while for a response to form.

Quiet. You’re the first visitor I’ve ever had. I’m still in Hogwarts, technically, but there’s no one else here. 

I’m sorry you found yourself writing before you could stop yourself. That sounds very lonely.

I don’t mind being lonely. It does get a bit dull, though. 

“Luce,” you said, leaning over the back of your desk chair. “He just offered to help me with Potions.” 

“See? Useful.” 

I've got to go to bed now. First day of classes and whatnot. 

Best of luck

Can you sleep where you are?

I don’t need to but I can

The words chilled you somewhat, but you pushed the feeling away. 

Well, goodnight you wrote. 

Goodnight

~

How were classes?

The ink appeared the moment you flipped open the journal. It was already two weeks into term, and you’d written to Tom nearly every night. You were curled up in bed, your blankets pulled heavy around your lap and your pajamas clean and smelling of lavender. A mug of tea lay steaming on your bedside table, its tendrils barely visible in the dim golden light of the candle you’d lit. 

As expected you wrote, yawning. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Thrilling.

You snorted.

“What are you giggling about?” Lucy’s voice snapped you back into reality. You looked up to see her peeking over the textbook in her lap, a smirk etched deeply into her lips. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but the way you slammed the journal shut gave it away.

“Talking to your fake boyfriend, huh?” teased Lucy. 

“I’m not even going to answer that.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a fucking journal. It’s not like he’s real.”

“Didn’t he say he was trapped in there?”

You huffed. “I guess. He seems to have accepted his position in life, though. It’s not like he’s begging for help.” 

“No,” agreed Lucy. “But just think about it. What if you did manage to get him out? How romantic would that be?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” 

Lucy ducked away from the pillow you lobbed in her direction, cackling maniacally all the way. 

There you are. I thought I’d bored you. 

The words reappeared within seconds of you reopening the journal. You tried to smother the way your lips turned upwards at the sight. 

Sorry you wrote back, hoping that Lucy was sufficiently distracted with her textbook and would give you a rest for the night. A friend wanted to talk.

Does this friend know about me?

You held your quill to your lips for a moment before you wrote back.

Yes. She loves to tease over how much time I spend writing to you 

I take it she doesn’t understand

Quite the contrary. She’s the one who encouraged me to write to you in the first place, in fact.

How so?

Something about how it would be nice to be able to tell my secrets to someone who could never tell anyone else

Tom’s response took a bit longer to appear this time around. 

Oh? Any you’d like to share now?

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at the drying ink. 

You first.

For a minute, you thought that maybe Tom had disappeared. The parchment remained blank and clean. Maybe he’d gotten bored with you and had gone off to…whatever he did in his empty version of Hogwarts. 

Then the lettering appeared again. 

I used to have a pet snake when I was a child. I was an orphan, you see, and the other children thought that I was too strange to play with. I was terribly lonely. The matron took us to the beach once, and I found this little grass snake in the weeds. I stuck it in my pocket and took it back to the orphanage with me. 

You lived in a muggle orphanage? 

Yes. Obviously. Once I was amongst magicfolk, people did find me quite charming. 

Why’d you pick a snake?

I liked having someone—or something, I suppose—to talk to. 

You stared as the ink sunk back into nothing. Talk. Snakes. Talking?

Are you a Parselmouth? 

I’ve already given a secret Tom wrote. Your turn. 

Will you answer if I give you one?

That’s only fair. 

Secrets—you barely had those. You’d grown up sharing nearly everything with Lucy since you’d been paired up in first year Charms class. 

Not losing your nerve, are you?

I’m just thinking you quickly wrote back. I don’t have many secrets. 

Surely you do. 

This isn’t a very exciting secret. Heat rose to your cheeks as your quill scratched against the paper. But I haven’t told anyone this. 

Go on.

I can’t tell anyone this because they’ll think I’m annoying. I do really well in classes. But I feel like I’m never going to be smart enough. It seems like nothing that I ever do will be enough to stand out 

I understand more than you know

What do you mean?

I was sorted into Slytherin. Coming from such a modest background meant that I had to prove that I was worth the space I was taking up 

A swell of…something rose in you as you stared down at the paper. You tried to imagine this mysterious Tom in the familiar green robes that you saw every day in Potions, scrunching his nose up over a book and studying hard. All alone—motivated by the knowledge that no one was rooting for his success—knowing that there was no name he could depend on to cover even one misstep—

You blinked. Whoa. That was some serious projection. 

I can’t really tell this to anyone else. All of my friends come from influential pureblood families, so they just don’t get why I don’t get to make mistakes or slip up. They think I’m so uptight

Exactly. They all have safety nets. The grades, the house points, the prefect badges—those are all just surface level. It’s your name that gets you anywhere important 

“You’re looking mighty serious over there,” said Lucy from over her textbook. “Trouble in paradise?”

You laughed tightly. “Er, no. Just talking.” 

“Uh huh.”

I always feel like it’s evidence that I don’t belong when I don’t immediately understand something in class you add into the journal. To your horror, tears started pricking at your eyes. None of your friends were muggleborns. You’d never been able to voice these things out loud—or on paper, in this case. Writing it all out seemed so sad now. Like today in Runes. It took me longer than usual to understand a translation technique for this ridiculous slate from the Middle Ages. I had to talk myself down from believing that I’m faking it and that everyone else doesn’t even need to try

Is Babbling still there?

Yes. She’s still teaching 

She was already too old to be coherent when she was teaching me wrote Tom. Tell me, do you have to rennervate her throughout the lesson to keep her present?

She was old back then??? 

Ancient. 

I can’t believe she’s still alive. You chewed on your lip as you thought. She’s practically a fossil.

Do you think of me like that? Old?

Would it make you feel better if I said I considered you vintage? 

I’m wounded

“Fucking get to the library and start researching ways to pull that poor boy out of there,” said Lucy from her bed, “Or stop giggling like that. Merlin. You’re killing me. You’re practically twirling your hair.”

“Shut up!” Slowly, you opened the journal back up after slamming it closed.

Your friend again?

Yes you scribbled back. She’s teasing me again about how I should try to get you out of here. Which I’m assuming is impossible, since I’m doubtful you’re even a real person

I’m very real

Your blood cooled. 

Then why haven’t you asked me to get you out? 

A pause—just long enough for you to feel suspicious. 

I’ve gotten quite used to my little home in here wrote Tom finally. And forgive me if I believe it a bit forward to immediately demand the first person to which I speak to orchestrate my extraction. 

Extraction. Interesting word choice, you thought. 

How polite. Part of you was beginning to feel the slightest bit uneasy. And what would this so-called extraction entail? 

That I haven’t quite figured out yet. The response was instantaneous. Ever since we’ve met I’ve been returning to the library in hopes of finding an answer.

Which book trapped you in here?

Another pause. 

I sincerely doubt it’s still in print wrote Tom. It was a very dangerous book with dark, terrible magic. I had no business digging around in it. I paid the price dearly. 

He refused to elaborate.

You spent the entire weekend digging through the Restricted Section, paging through every book you could imagine that had anything to do with Tom’s situation.

Nothing. Nada. Zero. You tried every querying spell you could think of. You were desperate enough to recruit Madam Pince by telling her that you were writing a paper for a class and needed to find anything there was on getting yourself trapped in magical objects. What she did dig up was at best irrelevant—tales of ill-executed Animagi rituals that resulted in the wizard getting stuck in their animal form and reports of interactions with cursed objects sending the users into a different dimension, never to be heard from again. 

But as you were leaving the library on Sunday night, feeling downtrodden and profoundly disappointed, you saw something that caught your eye: the Alumni section. 

It was one of those things that you always passed by without another thought. No classwork required students to reference previous Hogwarts attendees. It existed largely to appease the old families by nodding to their longstanding presence in Hogwarts, and the only friends who you had ever seen in this part of the library were purebloods curious about their ancestry. As a muggleborn, this was predictably unrelatable. There’d been no person of interest waiting for you in the old, dusty books that were shoved neatly into chronological order, no long-lost ancestor or namesake. 

Not until now. 

The click of your oxfords against the dark hardwood echoed as you came to a stop in front of the stacks. Every yearbook was the color of that school year’s House Cup winner, and the one with 1943-1944 on the thin spine was a rich, loud red. It slid easily from the shelf—which was a relief, because occasionally older books required permission to handle and were thus unremovable—and settled gently in your hands. 

For a second you pondered leaving the aisle and finding a table to crack it open and savor the moment, but the thought of having to explain why you were looking at the 1943 class yearbook would be embarrassing. Doubly so if Lucy found you—she’d never let you hear the end of it. So, case closed. You’d open it here. 

Oh god. You swallowed and used the cuff of your free sleeve to wipe the bead of sweat that had formed on your forehead. This was a terrible idea—or was it? Maybe he wouldn’t be your type. Yes, maybe he’d look just like someone who annoyed you in class or he’d have poorly kept hair or he’d have a creepy smile. Then you could stop thinking about—that.

And that shouldn’t even matter! You squeezed your eyes shut to dispel the thought. It was all Lucy’s fault for teasing you so much about him being your sort-of-weird-ghost boyfriend—part of you was starting to pretend like that was real. And it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It didn’t matter that no boy before had managed to make you this excited to talk to them. It didn’t matter that he got you like no one else in this castle seemed to. It didn’t, because as of present he was actually a journal and not a corporeal being.

In short, you reminded yourself harshly, you were checking this yearbook to verify that a Tom Marvolo Riddle did in fact exist and attended Hogwarts during the time period he claimed. That was it—nothing more. 

Nervously, you let the cover flip open and began to card through the thick pages. Moving pictures of entirely unfamiliar students greeted you, flashing past your eyes. First years, second years, third years, fourth years…

You paused before turning from the fifth year page to the sixth, overwhelmed with the thought that whatever you saw was going to change the way you saw your interactions with the diary. If he wasn’t there, you’d need to re-evaluate how safe this whole diary scenario was. You’d need to go back and reconsider if anything you’d heard from him was ever the actual truth. And if he was…

You swallowed. You couldn’t pretend like you hadn’t been imagining what he’d look like on nights that you struggled to fall asleep. There was never a face you could settle on. Whenever you’d spin up something in your mind’s eye, the features would shift and morph into something entirely different before you could enjoy it. 

But it didn’t matter—it couldn’t matter, because it was crazy that you’d even been fantasizing about a potentially make-believe boy who only existed in a worn diary. 

You turned the page, and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared right back at you.

Tom looked every bit of what you’d expect a Slytherin prefect to be like. Everything about him was neat, orderly, and intentional, from the tidy robes to the obediently shaped dark waves atop his head that looked tragically soft. The only thing out of place was a single piece of black hair, dangling temptingly in the middle of his forehead. 

His lips were drawn into a polite almost smile, his image almost entirely still save for the slight bob of his throat that repeated as the image replayed, over and over again. 

Tom was pretty—much prettier than you ever could’ve thought up on your own. He looked unreal, like he’d been sculpted by some higher being’s hand with the express purpose of being devastatingly ethereal. 

And he’d been talking to you. Connecting with you. And he was real. The weight of your satchel over your shoulder reminded you that he was right there. All it’d take was a quill and some ink to speak to him again. 

The picture had repeated its loop one final time before you closed the book shut and pushed it back onto the shelf, hearing the pounding of your heart the whole way.

When you wrote to him that night, you tried your best to keep yourself imagining how he’d look writing back. Would he smile when he saw that you’d opened the journal? Would he laugh at your (admittedly stupid) jokes? 

September turned into October which tilted into November with such speed that you could barely breathe. Time barreled ahead as classes sped up, assignments piled on, and each day became just another challenge to survive. 

Tom remained one of the few constants in your life, alongside Lucy and Ishan. It was concerning how much you’d come to confide in him, telling him things that you’d never dare to share with anyone else. You told him about the little accomplishments that you could never bring up to your friends, like Professor Snape insulting everyone’s potion except yours and what McGonagall wrote on your most recent paper, calling it one of the most well-researched essays she’d gotten from a N.E.W.T level student. You even told him how Lucy occasionally got on your nerves and how it made you feel like a bad friend. 

He was a good listener and an even better conversationalist. When he wasn’t being your confidant, he was more than happy to indulge any academic topics of interest. You spent hours going back and forth, debating the content of the news headlines that you’d tell him about each day. 

With time, the memory of Tom’s face and intimidatingly good looks faded to the back of your mind. You’d barred yourself from going back into the Alumni section in the library lest you felt inspired to crack open his yearbook again and remind yourself just how attractive your imaginary friend had been when he’d been alive. If you did that, then you’d start fantasizing about a future where you invented some sort of way to pull him out, and that was just silly. You had exams, and Tom didn’t seem particularly rushed in leaving his journal—or he’d at least come to accept that he’d never leave.

Despite this new normality you’d built around the strangeness of the journal, some things still felt tense. You’d grown comfortable with Tom—arguably more comfortable with him than nearly anyone else, save for maybe Lucy, since you couldn’t ever imagine opening up the journal and telling him all about the fact that it was your time of the month and detailing exactly how your cramps were making you feel—but there was this underlying sense of anticipation. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. You just knew that things couldn’t be like this forever. Something had to give. 

In the end, it was Professor Snape who started it. He’d looked down at your cauldron and said something about how your Draught of Living Death base was the most elementary thing he’d ever had the misfortune of laying his eyes upon and that you were lucky to even be allowed into the class, and something inside you broke. 

You’d tried so hard on that potion. You’d followed the instructions to a T. You’d diced everything evenly and stirred it with the precision of a muggle performing brain surgery. Potions had never been your best subject, and you tried to make up for it by trying harder than everyone else. Normally it worked, but N.E.W.T potions was something else.

Tom was taking longer than usual to respond to this particular soliloquy that night, a few letters surfacing before he scribbled them out.

I know this might seem scary he finally wrote. I’ll understand if this frightens you too much. But I think that I may be able to help. 

What do you mean, scary? Are you a mean tutor or something?

I mean that I can show you how to brew that Draught Tom replied. 

Show me?

If my research is correct, it’s possible that I can temporarily cross you over into my world. 

Your heart thudded, your hands suddenly clammy. 

“Lucy?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” Lucy tossed her book onto her desk and turned to face you. “Oh no. Did something happen? You look awful.”

“Gee. Thanks.” You swallowed. “Er—sort of? I was writing to Tom about how crazy Potions class was today and he told me that he could help me. Like actually tutor me.”

“Is that not a good thing?” 

Your mouth was dry. “No. That’s not it. He means like, tutor me tutor me. In person. He says he can cross me over into his world temporarily.”

Lucy froze. 

“I have to say no, right?” It was so, so stupid that you were asking that. Of course you had to say no. There was no telling what he could do to you if you said yes. Maybe he was actually a demon that was attempting to possess you. Maybe he was going to eat your soul and use your body as a husk to feed on the other students and—

“I mean, probably not.” She thoughtfully pressed the top of her quill to her mouth. “Think about it. You guys have been in contact for months and nothing supernatural has happened. We already came to the conclusion that the journal isn’t dark magic because the wards would’ve kept it out.”

“But what if I get stuck with him? I haven’t been able to find anything about this type of magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

Lucy hummed. Then realization flickered across her features. “Hang on. I think I have something that might help.” 

She dug around in one of her desk drawers until she produced a small spool of half-used thread. It was golden in color but so thin it was nearly iridescent. 

“What’s that?” you asked, squinting at it. 

“It’s Invisible String,” said Lucy, already rolling it out and pulling it around your wrist. It was pleasantly warm against your skin, like it’d just been sitting out in the sun. As soon as it made contact with your body, it disappeared. “It used to be used for Ministry Employees who used Time Turners. Whoever is on the other end of the thread is able to pull the wearer back to this reality and this timeline. It’s very useful in avoiding nasty time related incidents. My dad took home a bunch of spools when Time Turners were officially outlawed. He taught me how to apparate with them since it can also work over long distances in the same reality—just in case I did something stupid.” 

“Wow,” you breathed, staring down at your wrist. There was nothing to stare at, of course. It was already gone. But it was an ingenious little contraption, probably charmed so many times with such obscure and rare spells that it would go for thousands of galleons if you tried to buy it yourself.

The perks of having a rich pureblood best friend, you supposed.

“As long as I’m holding the other end, I’ll be able to bring you back,” explained Lucy, holding the spool up demonstratively. “So, go for it. If that’s your only hold-up, I think you should go meet him. If anything, at least it’ll help your Potions grade.” 

You turned your attention back to the journal, worrying your lip for a second before you dipped your quill in the inkwell and wrote out Ok. 

“This is so exciting,” said Lucy from over your shoulder. “You have to tell me everything when you get back.”

“If I can come back.”

She dangled the spool in front of you. “I’ll make sure of that. If you’re not back by curfew, I’ll yank you back to this reality by myself.”

“Right.” Anxiety began to build in your middle, bubbling up until you were sure you were trembling. 

This might feel a bit uncomfortable was all Tom wrote before you were suddenly falling into a void.

When the inertia faded and light slowly bled back into your vision, you were sprawled on the floor of a Potions classroom that you’d been in when you were a second year. Tom Riddle stood tidily a few feet away from you, wearing the same formal school robes you’d seen on him in the yearbook. 

“Hello.” His voice was proper and measured. It fit him perfectly, but the fact that you were finally hearing him speak for the first time made you feel something that was highly inadvisable. 

“Hi.” 

For a moment, you just stared right back into his eyes as the silence closed in around you and the gravity of your situation sunk in. You’d really done it now, hadn’t you? As if to comfort you, the thread around your wrist warmed against your skin. 

“Don’t worry,” said Tom, like he could already tell what you were thinking.“You won’t be trapped. It’s me who’s bound to this world.” 

“And how are you so sure of that?” 

“This is a prison for my soul,” he said casually. “Not yours. You have nothing keeping you here.” 

“Right.” You slowly made your way from the ground to your feet, brushing off your robes and casting a few cleansing charms to dispel the dust clinging to you. At least your magic seemed to work fine here, you noted. It was a small comfort to know that you’d be able to defend yourself if shit went left. 

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.” Now that he was speaking more, you couldn’t help but admire the way he sounded—silken and smooth and entirely unbothered, like he did this every day. “I was sure that I’d scared you off.”

“You underestimate how much I want that Potions O,” you offered. 

“Never,” he said dryly. “Now that I see that you’re a Ravenclaw, I wouldn’t endeavor to make such ill-informed assumptions.”

You blanched, your head whipping down to take in what you were wearing. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked to see that you were wearing exactly what you’d had on moments ago at your desk—a midnight blue jumper with the Ravenclaw emblem stitched into the left breast, pulled on top of the white button up with the bronze and blue tie tucked underneath. That, and the standard-issue Hogwarts skirt and tights. Hardly dungeon attire—if you didn’t start brewing something soon, you’d be shivering. 

It all looked very silly compared to how many layers Tom was wearing. His prefect pin glinted under the dim lighting of the Potions classroom, and you tried your best to keep your heart from swooning. 

“Did I not tell you that I was a Ravenclaw?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I don’t believe so. I would’ve remembered.” 

“Are you surprised?”

He cast his dark eyes up to the ceiling and scrunched his nose in a way that you thought was meant to convey a serious bout of thinking. “Not quite. I was stuck between that and Slytherin.”

“Slytherin?” You couldn’t stop the way you grimaced at this.

“I thought we had enough in common for it to be plausible.” 

A thrill shot through you. “I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“I suppose I can't be too taken aback,” he said mildly, stepping neatly back and conjuring a cauldron to appear on the tabletop to his right. “You are a muggleborn. I don’t know of any who have been sorted into Slytherin.” 

This wasn’t news to you, but Tom’s delivery stung more than usual. The implication hung heavy in the air that you were somehow in the inferior house, only placed in Ravenclaw because of your blood. As an afterthought—as a convenient place for you to be put away. 

“That’s true,” you said, stepping closer until only the brewing table was in between you two. “But I doubt that I’d have been sorted there, even if I had been born a pureblood. The whole glutton-for-knowledge thing about Ravenclaw has always been me.”

“I disagree.” Tom summoned over a few jars of ingredients with a nonverbal wave of his wand. “If you’d been born with purer blood, you wouldn’t be so desperate to find a way to compensate.”

You flinched. Ouch. 

“I’m very aware of why I feel the need to work so hard,” you snipped. “But I really don’t think that has anything to do with my genuine academic curiosity. If I was so single-minded in using knowledge for compensation then perhaps I would have been a Slytherin.”

For a moment, his dark eyes flashed with something that you couldn’t quite catch before his face ironed itself into something impassive once more. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You frowned, watching as he placed familiar ingredients on the table and began lining them up. “It’s fine. Just a bit of a sore spot, that’s all.” 

He gave you a look that made you feel like you’d just pointed out the obvious. Which you had, clearly. But it was offensive regardless. 

“I’ve assembled all the ingredients for a Draught of Living Death,” he announced, stepping back from the table and waving one pale hand at the spread in front of you. “You said you had trouble with brewing the base. This makes sense, since more complicated potions require more stable bases. I’m not wrong in assuming that you’ve always been adept at following instructions and brewing perfect potions before this year?”

He waited for your nod to continue.

“N.E.W.T Potions is different in that it challenges your intuition. Before this, you’ve been able to coast by relying on the guidance of others. But with potions like the Living Death, you need to be able to think on your feet. Even the slightest variation in your ingredients—the age, the quality, the place of origin—can be what ruins an otherwise perfectly good brew. Every potions recipe you see in school textbooks makes implicit assumptions about the quality and age of your ingredients. If, say, it’s an unusually hot day when a supply shipment arrives and the gillyweed oxidizes, the instructions for a more difficult potion won’t anticipate that you need to temper it with volcanic salt.

“That’s where you come in. When you’re preparing your base, you need to have an intimate understanding of the properties of each ingredient and how they interact with each other. This way, when you notice something isn’t quite average with your supplies—as is common in a school where ingredients are shipped in bulk—you can adjust.” 

Tom paused, his eyes meeting yours. You blinked once, then broke the contact to look at the cauldron.

No one had ever explained that to you before. No one had ever taken the time. Snape certainly hadn’t been interested in lecturing about why so many students were incapable of  producing viable potions—he was far more content with insulting his pupils for being inadequate. 

“I never knew that,” you admitted, finally looking back at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. “That makes so much sense.” 

Though your words were far from creative, honesty dripped from your voice.

“Right then,” said Tom, nodding tightly and stepping back to gesture to the ingredients. “Try to prepare the base again. This time pay attention to the state of the ingredients.”

You got the work, thinly dicing the beetroot while you set the moon water to simmer in the cauldron. 

“This was bruised,” you noted, motioning to the cubes you’d just cut. 

Tom nodded, looking at you rather expectantly. 

“...which means that part of it has already oxidized,” you continued cautiously. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time learning about the different chemical properties of the ingredients. That felt too concretely muggle, too blatantly biological. “Which means that the enzymes have, uh, had their bonds ruptured?”

“And…?” 

“And that means I need to…” You squinted down at the vegetable, trying to conjure up any knowledge you had about enzymes and potion making. It probably wouldn’t be volcanic salt. Would it? “I don’t think that I can use volcanic salt as a binding agent this time. If my memory serves correctly, moon water becomes unstable in the presence of pure minerals. So that means…acid? Lemon?”

Tom slid a vial over to you, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Mix a little into the beetroot before adding it.”

You uncorked it and let the citrus juice sink into the purple cubes, running slightly down the cutting board and pooling in the wooden crevices. 

The rest of your base preparation went just as smoothly, with Tom offering up the odd helpful comment while you nodded and committed it to memory. 

You finished with a base that looked nothing like the disaster you’d created just hours ago. You were just barely able to keep yourself from grinning and throwing your arms around Tom’s neck as you both began to clean up and vanish the contents of the cauldron.

“Well done,” said Tom, spelling the cutting board clean. The vibrant pink marks from the beetroot vanished. “Consider me impressed.”

You nearly exploded with giddiness. 

“Thank you,” you said very normally. He was standing so close to you now that if you reached out, your fingers would skim his robe-clad arm. But you wouldn’t do that, because that was weird. Because he was living in a journal and he was somehow bound to this strange alternative reality. Because you weren’t even sure if it was possible to touch him. Because even if it was, Tom Riddle did not seem like the type of person who would be partial to physical affection—especially not from someone like you. “Do you—have you found anything out about how you can escape?” 

Tom’s fluid motions as he tidied the table only stuttered for a moment. “Some. Nothing concrete, though.”

“If you told me exactly what it was you did to get stuck in here, I’d probably be able to offer a lot more help,” you pointed out in a way that you hoped didn’t sound too cajoling. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“Come on,” you pressed, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ve aired out all my dirty laundry to you. You can tell me. I don’t think there’s anything you could say that I haven’t already guessed.”

“Really?” drawled Tom, his eyes locking on yours. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” you affirmed. 

“So why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Men could be so frightfully dull sometimes. 

“There’s a book,” said Tom with a deceptive casualness, “That should be in the Restricted section. It’s called ‘Secrets of the Darkest Arts.’ Read that. If you’d still like to know afterwards, I’ll oblige.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” 

The work table was all cleaned up, no trace of your previous potion brewing except for the lingering scent in the air. 

“Well,” said Tom. His hands were folded neatly behind his back as he remained a respectable distance away from you. “I suppose I should be sending you back.”

“I suppose,” you echoed. “Will I—do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

You regretted it the moment the words left your mouth. Hopefully the blush on your face could be written off by the excuse that you were just brewing. 

This time when he looked at you, it felt like he was re-evaluating something. “Whenever you’d like. I’m not especially occupied.”

Before you could stop yourself, your face was splitting into a bright smile. “Of course. I was definitely asking because of your busy schedule.” 

He blinked twice. Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and fidgeted with his tie. It was the most obvious sign of discomfort you’d seen from him the entire evening. 

“Right,” he said stiffly. “Ehm—yes. It was pleasant to have you here.”

“Pleasant?” you echoed, your eyebrows raised. 

“I mean that I’ve enjoyed the time that we’ve spent in correspondence,” he said, waving a hand like that made what he said any less awkward.

“Tom, I was teasing you,” you said. “I don’t need some sort of confession about how you can actually stand being around me. I can tell.”

“Right,” he said again. “I’ll send you back now.”

Before you could add another remark about how weird he was being, you were catapulted out of the dungeons and back into your desk chair.

“Merlin’s Beard!” gasped Lucy from behind you. 

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the bright lighting of your dorm. 

“You literally came out of nowhere!” said Lucy, coming around to put her hands on your desk and stare at you. “I was getting worried, too. Padma is coming back soon. I thought that I’d have to devise some sort of plan to keep her out of the room so she wouldn’t ask why you materialized out of thin air.”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes unfocused.

“So what happened?” 

“I—” You exhaled. “Lucy, I’m so fucked. He’s actually really cute.” 

“I knew it,” said Lucy, shaking your shoulders. 

“He helped me brew the base for the Draught of Living Death,” you elaborated. “He’s a really good tutor. He spoke for like 5 minutes about the properties of different ingredients, and I swear I’ve learned more from him than from 6 years of Snape’s lectures.”

“And did you guys talk?”

“A little.” You frowned, thinking back on the interactions you’d had. “He was really odd when I asked him about what I needed to do to get him out. Even weirder when I asked if I was going to see him again. He made some comment about how he wasn’t exactly busy and I said something that implied that I knew that but wanted to know if he liked seeing me, and he was super awkward.”

Lucy cringed. “Well, I mean, if I’d been stuck in a diary for 50 years without talking to someone, I’d probably be a little strange too. Tell me how he is when he talks—or writes, I guess—to you next.”

The next time Tom responded to a diary entry, you had news.

Tom you wrote. Are you there?

Yes.

Can you bring me back to you?

Why? Do you need another Potions lesson?

You rolled your eyes. Not quite.

Well, no. I won’t let you back until you’ve read the book I told you about.

That’s why I’m asking! I’ve tried looking for it everywhere. When none of the querying spells worked, I went through the entire Restricted Section by hand. Nothing! I asked Madam Pince and she told me that that book had been banned since before she’d gotten the position as librarian. I’m probably on some watch list now

That is troubling. 

So if you’ll be so kind, please let me back in so I can use your library. Thank you in advance

There was a long pause that you imagined Tom took to sigh and run his fingers through his hair in exasperation. Then:

Very well. 

You were falling through space once again.

final a/n: thank you for reading! let me know how you feel about it! this is my first time writing for tom so im kind of nervous or whatever

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine

[realititrip]

my Red Error AU for @dpauzine :D You can also check out the full zine here

The story in this AU follows Valerie after getting suit upgrade from Technus. Of course it's more than that and things start getting out of hand pretty quickly.

First it was the little things, barely noticable, but still there like studying becoming easier or her reaction time to attacks being faster. Valerie brushed it off.

This was going on for around 2 weeks without change until Phantom approached her after a fight where they had to team up to take down a more dangerous ghost. "Um Red? Your eyes glowed red for a second there and i wanted to ask if you were okay?" he said but Val just snaped at him to better mind his own business or else he'll be the one in her thermos next time she sees him. Phantom flew away then but the worry she saw in his eyes was stuck in her brain.

Valerie spent the rest of that night staring at the mirror in her bathroom looking for the red glow but never found it. Until a few days later when she woke up with sore eyes. Went to the mirror and saw red around the edges. It's fine it's FINE don't panic you'll figure it out girl.

After some thinking she figured new suit must be the source of the problem. Since it was fused with her body Val couldn't take it off, but it wasn't causing harm to anyone so she probably overused it or something that's why the red showed up.

And oh honey, you couldn't be more wrong.

Her vision changed. Those are definitely NOT the same eyes she had last week. The iris looks more mechanical, like there's something moving and shifting in it, like a robot or cyborgs, she thought. Everything is clearer, in higher quality, she can even zoom in and out if she so desieres. When she puts the suit on there's just /more/ of everything. Around the edges of her vision Valerie can see health statistics, ghosts in the area and other important information she needs. The familiar green eyes are gone, replaced with red.

The next change was her hair. Problem was they didn't look like hair anymore. Thick and think cables, any kind, running down her back. This really started freaking her out. This is where it started becoming too much and the situation she's in started sinking in. She needed help. But who even could do anything about it? Her dad would just worry even more, Phantom isn't an option, the best tech guy in town doesn't know she's Red Huntress and she's not going to change that.

So Valerie made a plan to wait for Technus to show up and catch him before Phantom. It surprised her the ghost was actually useful and explained what he could. Of course there was the threat that she'll destroy Technus if he won't but. Details.

Apparently her "hair" could be used to connect with any sort of device. She needs camera footage to check out ghost fight details? done. Wes talking about his phone freaking out because of ghost pictures? she can get that easily. The cables act like another pair of arms and do exactly what she wants.

Technus has a theory that the reason behind all of this was because he used too much of his powers on her. Since it was more than a normal human body could handle thus the changes.

He warned that there's a possibility she'll develop something similar to a ghosts core, the thing that stores all her power, the source of it. Since she's still human, Valerie thought it wouldn't happen, but fate seems to hate her, so here we are, with a triangle on her forehead that seems to be slowly growing in size every day. Honestly, it's not so bad, pretty easy to hide. The worst part about it is that if the core got damaged she must go to Technus for help.

But other than that, she's fine, for real this time.

#my art #danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny phantom zine #red error au #reality trip zine #dpauzine #valerie gray

[embracing-the-ineffable]

How to tell the "three" Good Omens Bentleys apart, without talking about color

There's some controversy about the s1/s2 Bentley "actors" in Good Omens, and the Bentley's mid-s2 transformation into "our car" during Aziraphale's trip to Edinburgh.

So, here's a handy guide to telling them all apart, and I'm NOT going to talk about the controversial color changes. (If you want the full details with a million screenshots, look at my earlier post here.)

*Please don't ask Neil about this! He's already said what he wants to say; like any good magician in the middle of their act, he's not going to spoil the mystery before the s3 magic unfolds*

Here's the s1 Bentley "Mary", after Adam reboots reality, next to the s2 initial look for the Bentley; underneath is the s2 new look for the Bentley after Edinburgh, aka "our car":

Keep in mind that the s1 Bentley is a different actor/model, a 2-door named Mary, and the s2 Bentley is actually a 4-door actor/model. In the first half of s2, it's cosplaying as Mary, and in the second half of s2, it looks like Our Car. How can we tell the difference?

Mary, and Our Car dressed as Mary, have the same hubcaps. They have one door handle on each side (as a 2-door car). Our Car as itself has different hubcaps and two door handles on each side (as a 4-door car).

Yes, I know about the half-car/cab-only set that was used to film some scenes in both seasons. It doesn't have hubcaps at all, so it really doesn't explain new hubcaps halfway through s2:

Can we tell the difference between Mary and Our Car cosplaying Mary? Yes:

Because Our Car is actually a 4-door, no matter how it's dressed, the backseat side windows are longer than actual Mary's backseat windows. Our Car's front and back side windows are the same size. Compare the orange lines I added above.

And, when Our Car dresses as Mary, there's an onscreen white line down the side near where the hinge would be if the car were a 2-door, but it's not underneath the frame between the two side windows. When Our Car looks like itself, the frame between the side windows is in line with the door hinge. The frame and hinge are also aligned on Mary in s1. Compare the vertical green lines I added above.

Oh, and remember the s1 cab-only set? Its backseat side window matched Mary and thus is shorter than the front seat window. I can't find ANY shot in s2, inside or outside the Bentley, with small backseat windows. Why? Because they must have updated the cab-only (physically, or with VFX) for s2 to match Our Car, despite rumors to the contrary. Again, compare the orange lines:

What about the Bentley in the s2 flashback to 1941? Take a look at 1941 on top of s1 when they literally run into Anathema:

Do you see it? Yep! It's the s2 actor/model in 1941, because the backseat side window is as long as the front seat side window. (That makes sense; as far as we know, GO weren't able to rent Mary again for any s2 filming.)

And - there's another difference! The side windows in s1 on Mary actually look "3-pane", with a small venting window at the front:

Closer, with my lines to highlight:

Our Car from s2 doesn't have those small venting windows at the front. And what about the windows from the inside? Here's s1e2 Mary above s2e4's Our Car in the flashback to 1941:

And with my lines for emphasis:

I hope this is helpful! I meant for it to be short, but, well, I had things to say.

PS - if you enjoy Good Omens metas, theories, clues, etc, I have a big pinned collection of those from the fandom, here!

#good omens bentley #Bentley transformation #Good omens analysis #good omens meta #ineffable mystery #good omens clues #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #our car #renew good omens #good omens

[mtkay13]

(and way more TYK designs below!)

Here it is! My personal designs of the (mostly) full TYK cast! What I mainly learned from this: TYK has a lot more characters than expected, haha.

My idea was mainly to get a clearer image, for myself, of all the people appearing or being mentioned in the book (and btw, a big chunk of the characters above died before the story even started and don't even get a line, but, you know...). One of my guidelines was, everyone has to look interesting, has to look like the main character of their own story. TYK is pretty much a story about side characters... so if noone is a main character, everyone is, no? (...does that even work? lol) Some of these designs were inspired by SHL, because it being the first one I saw, it of course left an impression in my mind. The rest is essentially taken from the few descriptions we get in the book, and my own imagination (plus some help from pinterest for the clothing). Rong Changqing is 100% inspired from @tbgkaru-woh depiction of him.

One noteworthy thing: the giant dog is too big. I thought it was supposed to be the size of a big horse, but it's actually the size of a pony... woops. Now, additionally:

The protags families! Wen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao had to look heroic because that's pretty much what their characters are about. The traditional Wuxia story heroes that marked the legend. Conversely, the Zhou family has to be as plain and normal as possible, haha. ZZS says, in QY, that he's often called "Zhou San" (=Zhou three), which means he's the third child in his family. Since I like the idea of him being the youngest, I only gave him an older brother (who will inherit the position of head of the family and thus justify ZZS being able to leave for a shady remote sect) and an older sister. And as another bonus:

Hehehe. So these are... let's say, the men in ZZS' life, before WKX.

- Jiuxiao, of course, because I'm convinced ZZS had feelings for him

- Huang Xu, an OC developed with Bichen (son of a HLZ supporter, whose family ZZS infiltrated for a while --as Su Yan-- to try and sway them towards HLY's cause ((Su Yan's "Yan" is the same "Yan" as in Zhen Yan, just as a little nod to SHL))) - Zhu Ai, a magistrate OC, developed with Moose and Bichen, who's deeply infatuated with ZZS --only knowing him as that one guy who handles imperial guard watch tours and trains guards--

-and one guard I just like to imagine having a crush on him too. I started working on some guy from WKX's childhood too, but I feel like WKX's past is such a huge can of worms, I'll save all of that for later, haha.

#tian ya ke #design #character design #adaptation #zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #gu xiang #cao weining #jing beiyuan #wu xi #helian yi #gao chong #天涯客 #faraway wanderers #tyk #fanart

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi, other half, I've came to beg you to write some smutty thing for me. You once posted sth about riding Aegon's belly and yOU BITCH, I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE THEN. So I'm begging you, queen of chubby!aegon, to write something about getting off on Aegon's fat belly (and u know the details, i know u do bc we share the same mind).

i love u, please and thank u🤍🥺

I LOVE YOU! and whoopsie, I can't help it if my thotty thots overtake your mind <3 lord have mercy, I really took my time with this one boo, like I actually lost myself AHAHA you know what they say, great minds think alike :))) hope you enjoy lovely x

Satisfied, Yet?

PAIRING: chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader.

WORDS: 2,464.

WARNINGS: NSFW, slight mention of fatphobic comment, thigh/stomach riding, p in v sex, swearing.

Since being anointed as King, Aegon's life had altered drastically. Most of these changes not only seeped into his political stance in the realm, or in his dutiful role of upholding social responsibilities, although in his physicality, too. Since, having been betrothed to Aegon from his long, before days as Prince till now, you'd been front row and center to all these unfolding changes...

Nonetheless, at the very least you were quite absorbed in all the theatrics, particularly relishing in your husband's growing figure.

Aegon had always been an envoy to gluttony since his youth, his habits had only recently begun to swell from a boy's meager appetite into a man's. Since his coronation, Aegon, with you loyally by his side, had been invited and exposed to plentiful feasts, tourneys, banquets and celebrations in honor of his succession, with copious amounts of succulent roasts, pastries, sweets, treats and wine, that could fulfillingly feed the entire realm thrice. It was inevitable that such a habit of glutton would overtake…

Although you modestly dined in moderation, Aegon often found himself feasting, ravishing through the delectable flavours each region of the realm had to offer to their newly appointed King, eagerly hoping to appease his Grace.  As time went on, you found that his table manners had become wilted, as he’d often lost focus, disengaging in conversations, too enraptured by gorging himself on the delicacies offered to him by his meek subjects. You’d even occasionally witness him satisfyingly licking the tasteful grease off of his now thick, pudgy fingers, savoring the sacred moment, as his other free hand massaged his full, distended belly. 

In doing so, and unknowing to Aegon’s own naked eye, his appetite grew just as rapid as his waistline. His grandsire, the Hand, Otto Hightower, often eyed the King with disgust although, so long as Aegon showed up to such meaningful events, he did not protest. Nor did the Dowager Queen, Alicent, for she grew weary and apprehensive to provoke Aegon, now that he was King. Thus, no one dared to fuss. 

If you were being frank with yourself, you intently observed Aegon’s newly found habits, not in a parallel way to his grandsire, although with lust. Aegon’s appetite was what you’d believed, fit for a King. The repercussions of this, you reaped bashfully, as you gradually watched your beloved husband's figure swell. He maintained muscle, through occasional combat training and flights with Sunfyre, although now a visible layer of fat had grown all over, padding the muscle beneath. His legs, once modestly average sized, had now grown to be as thick as tree trunks, along with his bulky biceps and forearms to match. Although the centerpiece of attraction was his abdominal region, now protruding over his hidden waistline, the soft flesh hung, resting over his stocky thighs whenever you found him lounging. 

Gods be good, was it a mission to remain incessantly composed for hours when you were present to spoil your longing eyes upon your dear husband sprawled comfortably upon the Iron Throne… He’d grown into the seat, the fat of his thighs digging into the edge, subtly hanging over its edge, as he just managed to fit in. The image was stupendously ingrained into your brain, and the only thoughts that you could muster were sinful. 

Nonetheless, Aegon remained oblivious to the venereal effect his appearance was having on you…

****

“Fuck-” Aegon frusturatingly huffed.

“What is it, my love?” You concerningly question. Slowly closing the pages of your novel that rested against your lap, as you turned to face your husband, you had been greeted with an exasperated Aegon, his plump cheeks reddened from all the bustling noises you’d mindlessly heard in the background whilst reading. 

“It seems I am in need of a new fitting. I have been struggling to button these trousers on, dearest, not to mention how uncomfortably tight they now feel,” Aegon sulkingly protested. You carefully watched on, as you witnessed Aegon curiously pondering over his reflection in the mirror of your shared compartment. The pantaloons he’d been whining about, he’d just managed to dress, although remained loose and unsecured where it should have been buttoned and fitted. Instead, his portly belly hung low, his flesh engulfing over the opening and seams of the pants. 

“Be honest before the Gods dearest, have I grown?” Aegon uttered, as he turned to face you sharply, his hands gliding over his swollen belly, as the one squeezed the mold of fat over where his ribs lay protected beneath.

“I-uh, I do not know what you mean, dearest. Y-You look fine,” You meekly respond, unable to maintain direct eye contact, once Aegon was done sizing himself down, returning his gaze unto you. A stern look had brewed across his face, as you lowered your head to the book on your lap, fiddling with its torn edges.

“Do not toy with me, Y/N. Be honest, at the very least, I command that you speak the truth before your King. Have I grown…fat?” A distaste apparent in his stern voice, Aegon looked upon you with fretful eyes. 

Your reluctant gaze had softened with adoration. You did not wish for Aegon to feel even the slightest tinge of shame for his change, nor did you want him to think it possible, that you were revolted by the very sight of your husband.

“Y-You may have grown somewhat in size, but Aeg, that does not mean I love you any less. No lesser, than the day my maiden eyes had laid upon you.” 

Although you spoke warmly of the truth, Aegon refused to believe. Disapprovingly shaking his head in protest, he tore his attention away from you, avoiding eye contact as his glistening, lilac eyes had now wandered to the ground beneath his feet. His hands nervously gliding up and down the sides of his thick thighs, as he slowly seated himself down over the edge of the bed, an audible creak of the wooden frame fracturing the silence. 

“People must look upon us, and feel pity unto you, my wife. For look at the ‘hog’ she has now binded herself to-”

“Aegon, please-” You firmly interjected, racing over towards your husband, as you gracefully knelt before him, your hands now appearing tiny, sprawled against his large thighs, gripping the flesh for stability. 

“Aeg, look at me-” Your hand reached over, tugging at his fatty chin to redirect his attention solely onto you. 

“They-” Your fleeting eyes darting towards the shut door and back towards him, indicating to the world beyond.

“-should not matter. I would never say such vile things, nor could I ever think of you like that.” 

Aegon remained chillingly quiet, although you’d faintly glimpsed a sudden glint in his eyes, as his fixed attention lingered over your soft lips. 

“Prove it.” 

His sudden words took a solid few seconds to register in your mind, before you’d fathomed its meaning. Prove so, how? 

You knew exactly what was required of you. Your readiness for this moment had been stirring amid the quiet moments against the bustle and haste, of the banquets and festivities you’d both attended, that you often found yourself reservedly pondering in your own lustful thoughts, envisioning many things… 

“Sit properly on the bed,” You boldly uttered, as you stood yourself up, pushing yourself up from Aegon’s knees, leaning yourself ever so slightly forward that the evident cleavage in your tightly fitted gown were brazenly displayed to Aegon, as you stood swiftly. It made you innocently chuckle seeing Aegon smacking his juicy lips in response, as he strugglingly shuffled himself atop the bed, right towards the center of the wooden headboard. His large, rough hands steadily rubbed against the tight fabric of his thighs in anticipation for what was to come, as he intently observed you from afar. 

Both your undivided attention remained mutually onto each other: a faint, tender smile appearing on your face, as you noticed the hunger in Aegon’s eyes [mildly similar to how he gushed over the plated feasts], a smirk beaming across his face. 

Slowly walking over towards him, you’d managed to hike the front of your dress up sensually, before crawling atop the bed, only to find yourself straddling your beloved husband. Your legs had been stretched out broadly, accommodating for his wider frame, as his stomach pushed against the sensitive region of your lower abdomen and entrance. Gods, did his thighs feel so tender and soft beneath your ass, as you comfortably lowered yourself down, readjusting your position. Your arms instinctively stretch over towards his neck line, as your fingers begin to tangle and pull on the platinum, short strands from behind. 

It seemed the warm, tense friction of your body against Aegon’s was already beginning to stir the new King, pleasantly.

Closing in the distance between your faces, as your moist lips teasingly hovered over his plump ones. 

“You want me to prove it, baby… So be it,” You softly whispered, the warmth of your breath Aegon had inhaled, unable to remain patient, the young King pushed his mouth against yours, his tongue shoving its way through in exchange for a long, passionate kiss. Somehow, his pudgy hands had managed to find their way towards your backside, roughly squeezing the flesh of each cheek, you were certain his fingerprints would remain evident. 

Almost in tune to a rhythm, you began to pace yourself in a loop, slowly rocking forwards and back against the thin fabric of Aegon’s strained pants, your body shoving in deeper towards his distended belly, before leaning back to give him some momentary relief. 

“Mhmm,” Aegon lowly moaned, as one hand remained glued to your tender ass cheek, whilst the other snaked its way firmly behind your back, his rough hand gripping your neck, his thick fingers entangled in your hair, as he massaged the base of your head. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me, seeing you become this-” You breathlessly whimpered, as you tore apart your lips from his to speak. 

Aegon sensed the sincerity in your tone, and the soft, pleasing look in your eyes, as you ached for him. You could’ve sworn he could physically feel the throbbing sensation pulsating from your moist cunt, against the soft flesh of his full gut. 

“And what is it that I have done? What is it that you wish to do to me, my sweet, sweet angel?” 

Your pace had subtly quicked, briefly feeling Aegon trying to align your cunt to his cock, he undoubtedly was not expecting your next move. 

Insisting Aegon to recline himself further back into a semi-fowler position, the plentiful, fluffed cushions supporting his heavy mass in conjunction to the solid headboard hidden beneath. You swiftly shuffled yourself further up his body, thrusting yourself forward with enough momentum that you now sat atop, straddling his doughy, bloated stomach beneath. Your hands now gripping dearly onto his broad, dense shoulders, nails digging into the cloth-like fabric of his white shirt, as you further continued to thrust against him, riding his flesh beneath deeply and vigorously. 

“Fuck, Y/N-” He growled, as his grip remained strained onto your hips, as they rhythmically bucked forwards and back, desperately riding in deeper into his mass. 

“See-uh-See, what you’ve done to me, this, all of this-” You squeeze a little more into the flesh of his skin, pulling at the fat that embodied your husband, signifying his tremendous growth. Your moistened cunt began to coat his pale, soft skin stripped with reddened marks and stripes all along his sides and below, with your sweetness, as his shirt hiked up against your movements. 

“L-Look, my King, look at exactly what you’ve done to m-me-” You bashfully utter, as your spine instinctively arches, the collision and smacking of your skin against his continued to be heard in such close proximity, only muffled by either of your mindless moans and grunts. Nestled between your lower cunt and backside, you could feel something poking through, Aegon’s thick cock beginning to swell, feeling its pulsating urge beneath the strained fabric, the incessant need to shove itself inside of you grew with each movement. 

“Hmmf-” Aegon’s heavy, volatile breathing grew rapidly: as he ate himself to swell, his efforts became strained, often catching him huffing and puffing after hiking up a dense flight of stairs. 

“Come on, Aegon- I-I’m so close already-” You stutteringly whimper, sensual moans mindlessly interrupting your words. Now your wetness began to lubricate his succulent, fleshy skin entirely, as your cum pooled beneath, making your movements easier, gliding over his portly stomach. Where his lean pecs had once been, now a thick layer of adipose mounted over: one hand remained gripped to his shoulder, desperate for the stable support, whilst the other firmly cupped and squeezed at his enlarged, swollen pec. The roughness of your touch against the sensitive site, scored a loud plea for your name from his lips, that momentarily left your lifted breasts, before resuming to suckle on your soft skin. 

“Prove me wrong, baby. Prove me so fucking wrong-” Aegon groaned and moaned desperately, his grip remained firm as he tried desperately to shove you down deeper into his body. 

Instantly, you felt your pulsating cunt drench his swollen, soft belly as you pleasantly cried out, moaning Aegon’s name like a banshee in the night. His cock beneath you twitched in response, some moistness had brewed and seeped beneath its place, for it seemed Aegon was just as close to pumping, making a mess of himself. Although, as surprisingly swift as he could be for his size, Aegon thoroughly knew his way around your body, despite the changes to his own. His pants already undone from before, he could easily lift you up momentarily, pulling it down further enough for his bare cock to protrude through, aggressively shoving himself into you as you now remained atop. His thick cum coating your inner walls, as his veiny, fat cock grazed over your sweet spot, whilst your walls clenched on his thick cock. 

“Fuck, baby-” He subtly mouthed,  as he prompted himself further up, although his belly innately blocking his way, as he tried to lean over towards your own feeble body. The pace of your breathing now in sync with his, as your heated bodies lunged over towards one another for support, he held your weak self in his bulky arms, Aegon’s dense cock still remained inside of you, its strong pulse echoing from within your walls. 

“Satisfied, yet?” You helplessly pant, as you reluctantly pull yourself out of Aegon, repositioning yourself laying, nestled by his side. 

“I guess I should hold back on training for a little while longer, I wouldn't want to lose this figure, if that’s what I’ll be expecting, dear wife.”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #chubby!Aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryan fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x fem!reader #chubby!Aegon ii targaryen #chubby Aegon ii #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Talking Buddie Language: Ep 6.13

Buddie nation how are we doing?!?! This episode really blew me and my expectations away. I loved it so much and I really think this was such a statement episode. They made a bold statement with their choices in both Buck and Eddie’s development and storylines going further, especially with Christopher. It was a fun and light episode to combat the previous few that have been on the darker side. I think this is my favorite episode to analyze thus far! So I’m just gonna get right into it.

Buck Can Do Math?

Before getting into the whole math aspect, I just want to say how good it was to see Buck and Eddie back to being partners and in sync once again. They walked in together. They moved so seamlessly at the same time, and it felt like no time has passed since the last time they worked together before Buck’s injury

I love how one of the running jokes throughout the show has been that Buck cannot do math. Eddie told him point blank back in 3.04 “You don’t know math.” So to actually see him do math so seamlessly in his head really made me happy to see!

B: How much did she drink?…So that’s a 100 mg. A woman her size should be having 14 mg. So she’s taken 7.13 more times than the daily allowance.

C: Did he just do math? In his head?

E: I think so.

B: Uh, was uh, was I right?

H: You are.

I love seeing his teams' reactions to him doing quick math in his head because everyone is confused about his new capabilities, including himself. One thing I would like to note is Eddie’s little confused moment because he knows Buck the best out of everyone there. So even he’s confused as to this new revelation that he didn’t know existed.

Chimney with Denny // Buck with Christopher

The reason I am including this specific part is because there was a deliberate choice to include a scene in which we have Chimney talking to his best friend's child about their fathers. It's interesting to see how Chim is literally just like any other uncle figure talking to someone he can consider to be a nephew of some sort. It was not paternal in any way because they had a talk about how complicated Chim's relationship was with his father. Denny connected to what Chim had to say but the difference in their interaction versus every interaction we have gotten with Buck and Christopher is massive. And it was conveniently just before we got that wholesome Buckley Diaz family scene too to really bring forth the differences between their relationships.

Buckley Diaz Family Does Math Together

I am still screaming and crying happy tears over this wholesome family moment. This season, the writers are really putting in the effort to solidify the three of them as a family unit of their own. They are sitting once again in Buck's kitchen doing the most mundane family task, which is snacking and helping their kid with their homework while they chat. It is such a difference to how Chim and Denny's interaction went a few moments before this scene.

I love Christopher testing out Buck's new skills while Buck happily indulges him. He seems so happy to inform his father that his Buck now knows everything, to which Buck quickly assures that it's not everything, just math. Eddie's fond little "yeah, yeah" is so typical in other shows and movies where one parent is getting all the cool points from their child and the other has to make peace with it. No heat there, just Eddie being his usual self when he's around his boys.

I love how while Buck and Chris were having their little fun, Eddie pulled a Buck and was the one researching Buck's new abilities. A lot of time, when two people are together for a while, whether it is romantically or platonically, they start adapting the other's little habits and tells. In this instance, Eddie had adopted Buck's knack for researching and he is relaying his findings to his boys in typical Buck fashion.

The conversation about math is something I really found interesting and I have rewatched it multiple times already to uncover that there may be an underlying meaning here that isn't just about math. When Buck tells Eddie that it turns out that he "loves math," Eddie goes on to relay his findings on lightning survivors and newfound cognitive abilities they had.

E: According to this, you can get new cognitive abilities after a serious injury to the central nervous system.

B: Which I uh, definitely had.

E: Hmm, but some doctors are saying it's not a real thing.

B: Uh, you think I've secretly known the square root of 162 all these years and just been holding out? No c'mon, it has to be the lightning.

E: Fair point.

This conversation really reminds me of the one Eddie and Ana had in 3.12 about the horses.

A: There's a lot to be said for getting back on the horse but there's also some value in learning that you don't like horses.

Now just follow me for a second. If you fall off a horse and decide to get back on it to give it another shot, that can be ok. But if you decide that maybe horses aren't your thing, then it's also ok to just never get on one again. In this instance, if Eddie dated women and it didnt go anywhere, it's ok for him to try again. But it is also alright if he decided that dating women isn't what he wants and moves on to dating people he does want.

The same goes for the math of it all. Buck states that he likes math now, but he didn't used to like math before. And when Eddie calls him out, he is quick to explain that he didn't know math until after the lightning hit him. So let's say that Buck has only dated women his entire life. Maybe he is now realizing that he can be into other's that he had never considered before. Maybe this is his way of realizing that he has other options in front of him that he didnt think he did before. It makes sense if you also consider Buck trying to reach out to each woman he's ever been with to see if his performance was alright later on in the episode. Because maybe now he doesn't want to focus on women, maybe he wants to focus on a man instead.

Before diving into more of their body language, I want to talk about a concept we learned in one of my behavioral analysis classes. Mirroring is typically when two partners have such a chemical connection that they’re so in sync with everything that they do. Such things can be finishing each others sentences, or knowing what the other is thinking, even walking, talking and behaving in very similar ways. Mirroring is usually found to be the case with people who are in long term romantic partnerships because it takes a lot of emotional understanding to achieve it. This is important because mirroring happens a lot with Buck and Eddie even though they’re not in a romantic relationship. It’s the fact that they are so deeply connected on an emotional level that allows them to mirror each other in different ways.

One form of mirroring is body chemistry as well. Take into consideration Eddie's body position throughout the entire family scene. Our bodies tend to immediately shift towards the direction of our other halves because they’re like magnets seeking each other out. When you are attracted to someone, your body senses it and craves to be close to it at all times. That's why when you love someone, your body is always turned towards them. It's not even something people are conscious about because our bodies tend to have a mind of their own at times, especially when it comes to chemistry. It’s something that is very prevalent in Buck and Eddie’s relationship because they always seem to turn towards the other at all times.

Eddie's entire body is turned towards Buck to the point where he kind of has his back towards his son. It’s also very open because he feels safe with Buck. He isn’t closed off or protecting himself. No, he’s just basically openly surrendering his body to Buck because he knows he will keep it safe at all times. Compare this moment to the one in Eddie’s own kitchen when he was breaking up with Ana. He had his arms folded in front of him, closing himself off to her. Such a massive difference between the two of them and the two of these idiots.

When Buck mentions liking the idea that he’s the guy who has the answers, he immediately looks at Eddie and then Christopher as if they’re the answers he’s been searching for all season long. Which if you think about it, they are the two people that make him the happiest and the most at ease. It’s ironic that Eddie is turned away from Buck when he says that so he completely misses the lovesick look on Buck’s face as he says it. Now this, in my opinion, directly foreshadows Buck realizing his feelings for Eddie soon. Just how he was venting to Eddie and Christopher in 6.01 about how the perfect options for interim captain were right under Bobby’s nose, well the perfect partner and kid are in front of Buck’s now. This moment indicates that Buck will come to find soon that the partner for him has been the one by his side for years now. That framing and the way his eyes are sparking tell it all.

Husband's Who Con Together, Stay Together

I am so so here for Buck and Eddie putting Buck's newly found abilities to the test and gaining something out of it. I thought it was hilarious how Eddie was the mastermind behind Buck conning their teammates out of their money by doing some math equations. This shows once again how close these two really are because they're counting their money together and in the end it is just that, their money. Because they're a team and whatever they win, they share. You can tell by the way Eddie takes the bills out of Buck's hands, counts it then hands them back to him. It's nice to see them attached at the hip once again considering how most of 6a they were often paired off with others.

We see another example of a mirroring when they are walking side-by-side with the same steps. Seeing them walking together and laughing together is so nice and it really shows us how when compared to their interactions with their other team members it is so different to what they have together. We watched Buck and Hen be close for most of 6a, they got drunk together and went out with Denny together. But when you compare their scenes and their friendship to the one Buck has with Eddie and Christopher, it is once again vastly different. Which is why it was so pertinent to have them establish those other bonds with the other members of the 118, so that when we saw them close again, we would be seeing how different their relationship is than with others'.

The Winner Takes All The Steaks

The Poker Scene™️ will forever go down in Buddie history as one of their most iconic moments ever. There is so much that happened in the span of a few minutes that I truly feel like I hallucinated this entire episode because of it.

I don’t know how Eddie convinced Buck that he should dress to impress, but he surely succeeded. They were both dressed the nicest we have ever seen them. I love how when it comes to these two, there’s such an unconditional trust formed between them that they don’t have to question each other. Buck simply put on his best suit, his nicest watch and went along simply because Eddie asked him to.

The fact that they were wearing red and blue makes me absolutely feral!! I’ve talked about the significance of the red and blue theory when it comes to couples so I’m just going to link it right here if anyone is interested. But the costume department surely made a choice putting these two in red and blue when they were on their own outside of work, doing something fun. Especially in an episode where all the other couples were off on their own doing coupley stuff together.

The LAFD poker game was so fun to watch especially knowing what Buck is coming back from. I love the idea that Eddie would have made these plans to bring Buck to this poker game to not only test out his new cognitive abilities, but so that he can have some fun. Eddie, more than anyone else, knows how Buck really feels about his recent brush with death. So him bringing Buck to this game, dressed to the nines can either be because he wanted to test out Buck's abilities or simply because he wanted Buck to enjoy himself. Either way, I love how much Eddie cares about Buck and his happiness and well-being.

I want to discuss a couple different moments and how they are with each other. When they first enter and Buck sees Captain Mehta and Chief Williams, he is clearly shocked because whatever he was anticipating was definitely not a poker game with other LAFD members. When Chief says, "Let's see if he survives tonight," I think it's important to note how Buck seems weary of his place at the table and he immediately diverts his attention to his safe person, Eddie. Eddie is simply smiling at him in reassurance and even does his little turtle face in a way to tell Buck, you got this, I believe in you, which then immediately causes Buck to smile. See, they have that effect on each other. A simple look and a soft smile that is reserved for each other is enough to make the other feel safe and loved.

The discussion about Buck's brush with death was clearly making Buck uncomfortable and it goes to show that just because he is back at work, doesn't mean he is magically over it. Him not being able to joke with the Chief and Mehta, when he was openly joking with Eddie and Chris at his loft indicates the lack of trust he has with them. He knows the Diaz boys and trusts them unconditionally. They're his safe space, his people and he can feel comfortable joking with them because he has also been honest with Eddie about his real feelings. It feels out of place to partake in the casual conversation of his death with people he barely knows. But Eddie, his person and support system is quick to correct Chiefl Williams when she mentions Buck being dead for 3 minutes.

W: So 3 minutes huh?

B: Uh what's that?

W: That's how long you were dead.

E: 3 minutes and 17 seconds.

Eddie does not want anyone to diminish the 17 seconds Buck was dead for because he had to live in a world without Buck for 3 minutes and 17 seconds. Like I mentioned in my last episode's meta, Eddie is clearly not over this traumatic event. The way his voice was so broken when he told Buck he died in 6.12 indicates that he is not fully over it himself. And one can't blame him because he lost his partner and co-parent for that amount of time. He grieved Buck like he would a spouse or longtime partner. So for Eddie, diminishing Buck's death to only 3 minutes does not do his grief any justice because he was gone for an addition 17 seconds that Eddie will not be forgetting about for a long time. It's also interesting to focus on Buck’s facial expression when Eddie looks at him and says that because he seems kind of stunned. Almost as if he had no idea that is how long he was gone for or that Eddie knew it down to the very second.

Eddie's heated looks throughout that entire scene were something completely out of this world. I mean they're his typical fond heart eyes, but there was a clear underlying layer of lust and attraction in his looks. He was looking at Buck proudly but also like his new math skills were doing things to Eddie.

I’m sure it was so wonderful to see Buck so confident and smug while he kept winning hand after hand. Once Eddie stopped playing, he comfortably stood behind Buck and supported him while he won. On one occasion, after Buck won a round, the camera pans to Eddie and he’s completely flustered. He’s smiling and ducks his head in a cute shy way one does when they’re flustered by a crush. Eddie isn’t fooling anyone. We all know what he is and at this point I don’t even think he’s trying to hide it.

Then we have the end of all the rounds where Buck has won big. When Chief asks him what he wants as his prize, I love that his immediate thought is to look at Eddie, his partner, before making a decision. This was such a bold and deliberate choice in having him do this because it signifies that these two are partners both on and off the field. Eddie was already looking at Buck before he turns around to him. You can see the actual change in Eddie’s facial expression the moment they make eye contact. His eyes are sparkling and his smile widens to his special Buck smile. It’s complete and pure love that’s translated on Eddie’s face. Simple as that. That’s a man in love and there’s no other explanation for that. Now whether his heart knows it and his mind still needs time to catch up, or he’s fully aware, we don’t know yet. But the eyes, they never ever lie and you can see the love shining from Eddie’s eyes.

All of this to win some steaks? Yeah you heard that. Eddie and his little puns weren’t lying when he said this was low steaks haha. I love how Buck is exasperated but Eddie is smug standing next to him. He even diverts to his usual love language of teasing when he tells the Chief Buck’s humor wasn’t affected by the lightning. Once again, their shared looks are so heated especially when Eddie’s looking at Buck when he’s not looking back. The Chief telling Eddie to leave his human calculator at the firehouse was hilarious because it was his idea to even bring Buck down to play poker and smoke everyone there. But Eddie’s a possessive and smug bastard so he got what he initially wanted and that was for his Buck to let loose and enjoy himself while he enjoyed watching him enjoy himself lol. I got to say, Eddie looking at Buck like this when he’s not looking back is making me feral. There’s heat there and he’s so smitten with Buck that it really shouldn’t be a secret to anyone who’s in their close vicinity. So if only Buck were to just turn around and really open his eyes, he’d have more answers to the questions he’s been looking for.

Jealous Eddie Makes a Return

I really don’t understand why Buck and Eddie were the only two that accompanied Hen with the call to the couple found in a compromising position but I’m not complaining. It was hilarious in my opinion and it brought with it a return of jealous Eddie!! Once again you see mirroring come to play when they are listening to the husband try to explain what happened during their sexy night. The way both their hands go up at the same time and how they tilt their heads clearly shows they are so in sync with one another.

When the husband brings up the statistics he read about how 80% of partners are not satisfied, we have Buck immediately use his newfound abilities to calculate all the women he has slept with. I love how Eddie immediately cuts him off. You can tell he did not want to hear about Buck's previous partners because he was exasperated but not in his usual fond way. The way he looks back at Hen and shakes his head is very much, "Can you believe he was about to talk about that in front of me?" Oh Eddie baby, that is not how best friends react when their best friend talks about previous partners. Nothing about Buck and Eddie is platonic as we all know and I love every time jealous Eddie makes a return because there is no other explanation that the fact that he is in love with Buck.

Buck and Christopher Bake Cookies

It is very important that the show tries to distinguish Buck and Christopher’s relationship separate to that of Eddie's if they want to audience to believe Buck can be the perfect partner to Eddie in all ways. We haven't gotten a Buck and Chris scene together in such a long time so it was nice to see them together without Eddie. And they weren't just doing anything. No they were doing such a domestic thing which was Buck making them dinner and then planning on baking cookies for Christopher's class. That is such a parental thing to do and I love that the show is trying to really highlight the difference in their relationship with each other verses what we saw earlier with Chimney and Denny.

B: So when I cook, I like to measure out all the ingredients. It uh makes me feel like an actual chef.

C: That makes me your sous chef.

B: Yes it does.

Now something about the wording of this really stands out to me. Sure they are talking about baking but like they also may be implying something else at the same time. @ktinastrikesback had a very good point and I have to agree with her. It almost sounds like if you were to take out the words chef, it can be Buck implying that sometimes he feels like an actual dad, and that makes Christopher like his son. That analogy fits in this scenario so I am sticking with it.

I also mentioned in another post how this scene with just the two of this is very important for the general audience so that they can start understanding the importance of Buck in not only Eddie’s life but Christopher’s as well. The way they tease each other and how Buck looks at Christopher so proudly and with so much unbridled love really does seem like a father and son to me. And now the whole storyline of the sperm donation makes sense because they’re going to try to distinguish the fact that biology does not make someone a parent as we saw with Denny and his biological father as well. Buck is just as much Christopher’s dad as Eddie even though he’s not biologically related to him. So I can’t wait to see how the rest of the season unfolds but I do believe this is where it is heading. To Buck becoming more intertwined with the Diaz family and eventually becoming a romantic partner to Eddie and another parent to Christopher.

Once again thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. I really think we’re on the way to Buddie going canon and I for one am very excited to see how the rest of the season plays out. We’re so close friends! If you’d like to be tagged when I post these weekly metas, please let me know here!

Thank you to the lovely @aa-lionheart for all the beautiful gifs 💜

#buddie #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #911 speculation #911 meta #buddie meta #buddie language meta #911 on fox

[izvmimi]

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter I

cw: no specific warnings for this chapter. Please see masterlist warnings. Masterlist

It’s a spring afternoon, sunny and bright, the kind that you associate with youth, longevity, happiness, and hope, and rather than strolling through the park or having a picnic just before sunset, you’re thankfully at the tail end of a work schedule from hell, nearly an entire hour behind in your clinic and your emergency 3pm iced coffee is already wearing off. 

Your assistant pops in from the doorway and you see her in your peripheral vision quietly allowing you to take a moment to breathe, and suck down the dregs of your drink through a straw. Swiveling in your chair, making sure to care that your white coat doesn’t get caught in the wheels you glance at her. 

“We’ll survive,” you remind her. Your face is tired, but you keep your expression determined and Junko nods, affirmed. 

“Your 4pm that came late is finally here. Will you see them?”

You glance at the clock. It’s 5pm now, but you’ve never been one to turn away a patient, particularly when you’re running the pediatric clinic. The people that come to you come for uncontrolled quirks and odd conditions, and many wait weeks to be seen by you before a tragedy strikes, so you empower yourself to push through for another hour. After all, you’re finally doing the thing you dreamt of doing for nearly a decade.

“Of course.”

Junko offers you a smile, and disappears, and you take a few moments to gain your composure. After slipping a piece of caffeinated gum in your mouth and chewing rapidly for a moment before spitting it out in the bin next to you, you force a smile on your face, and then it soon becomes natural. Not too long afterwards, Junko brings in a small boy, no older than four years old, and a harried-appearing woman in her late 30s, possibly early 40s, presumably his mother. She’s whispering to him to behave already, and he has a small pout on his face. They share the same inverted checkmarks for eyebrows and sapphire blue, wavy hair, and you glean as much information from the way that she settles him before her, hands pressed carefully but firmly on his small shoulders, and bows to you before you can bow back.

“Thank you so much for being willing to see us, doctor.”

“It’s no worries! I know that you’re coming from afar - traffic is often bad, and if you had come earlier, we would have had you wait anyway, a few small things came up with a couple of patients before you,” you admit, with a polite laugh. That’s an understatement - between the teenager whose quirk, uncontrolled with puberty, left a hole in your waiting room ceiling, and the weird odor in one of your examination rooms, you’ve had a day and a half. You keep your smile friendly and big but the woman before you appears too distressed to smile back, hurriedly bringing her son to sit next to her in the pair of chairs Junko designates. Junko gives you a look with raised eyebrows when she finally makes her way out of the room and you take it in. 

It’s a warning that this case will not be an easy one. 

High acuity was all the information you were given, and nothing more. If there was anything you’d learned from your couple of years of experience was that the more information you got, the more likely the quirk was manageable, and the less information you got, the more danger you were in. 

The primary examination starts with just looking at the patient in a comfortable setting. The young boy is about the right size for his age, and his feet dangle normally off the chair as he twiddles his thumbs. He looks upset he’s here in the first place, as if he’s been scolded, but from the way his mother gently rubs his arm, you can tell she’s a loving parent. All of his features and hers are completely humanoid from what you can see - parents will sometimes worry about sudden mutant quirks in their children and require extra counseling - although they are both wearing shoes, and thus you can’t evaluate him there. He sneezes and sniffles with his mouth open, and you whisper a “bless you” with a gentle smile.

You start the interview.

“What brings you and little Kazuo-chan today, Ms. Minamoto?”

Mrs. Minamoto sighs and runs her hand through her hair. Kazuo looks at her then pouts, crossing his arms, but she rubs his knee as she leans forward to explain. Again she looks severely distressed, and you nod to encourage her to keep talking. 

“I’m not sure if I know how to explain this,” she starts. You continue to nod, clicking a pen. It’s for show, you tend to listen well enough to remember and recall most details, but you’ve found people feel more engaged when you write, like the severity of their issue is better captured on paper. You write the young man’s name down, and cross your legs.

“We can do our best to try to understand each other,” you reassure her. She laughs nervously, crossing her own legs at the ankles. Her mouth moves awkwardly for a moment as Kazuo, large-eyed as he senses his mother’s discomfort, watches her, and then she looks at him.

“Honey, just show her.”

Kazuo’s head tilts for a moment, but his mother has given him permission. Part of you braces yourself, with your own fortifying quirk - you’ve been punched suddenly and electrocuted enough times by now to not be prepared - and Kazuo jumps off the chair and approaches cautiously. 

He extends a hand awkwardly, and you look to his mother before looking back at him. You smile, although a bit nervous. 

Mrs. Minamoto encourages you to take it.

“He won’t hurt you, don’t worry,” she says. Kazuo looks expectantly at you with sea-green eyes you can practically see yourself in, the thumb of his other hand in his mouth. You take his hand. 

A few moments pass quietly, where nothing is heard except the tick-tock of the overhead clock. You feel your heart thumping, but there is no strange sensation. No electricity coursing through your veins or loss of perception, or sudden illusions. 

And then suddenly - 

Kazuo’s eyes turn white, and his hand goes limp in yours. You gasp, but he remains steady, and by the time you blink, his eyes are back to normal. 

But then, when you look up, there is a sudden burst of light, a sensation like a gash ripping into the ceiling above you, and your hair, on your head, even the fine ones on the back of your hand feel pulled  to the ceiling.

You look up, and before you realize a body is falling through the rip in the ceiling with a scream. 

You scream as well, but you’re not fast enough to try to break its fall. The body drops like a sack onto the floor of your examination room, then rolls into a sitting position, the sounds from it loud and shocked, while Kazuo scrambles and jumps into his mother’s lap. You look frozen in shock at the new person in the room who has finally stopped screaming, their wide eyes mirroring yours.

It’s not just the eyes that mirror yours.

Everything does. The curve of your lips, the bridge of your nose, the slope of your neck into your shoulders, the intonation and timbre of your voice as you utter the same phrase.

“Oh my goodness.”

Carefully, you approach each other, step by step. The woman stands at the same height as you, as you rise to meet each other, in different clothing - a pair of joggers and a loose, baggy shirt stained with some strange red substance that’s less blood and more likely ketchup. Her cheeks are slightly fuller than yours, her hair unkempt, and her skin not evened out and brightened by smooth foundation like yours is now, but it’s unmistakable.

You’re staring at someone that is not a clone, and not a doppelganger, but another sloppier, and similarly surprised version of yourself.

---

Your clinic visit ends with not one alternate version of yourself, but five. 

Five yous, that aren’t exactly you, but are about your size, your shape, respond to your given name, and speak with your natural voice, sit in your break room, and are all talking at once. The first ‘you’ that fell out of the ceiling, the one who watched Kazuo make 4 more gashes in the time space continuum and force 4 more terrified women with roughly your appearance and temperament to tumble out, sits at the head of the table, and shakes her head when you finally close the door behind you. All you could do by the close of the visit was to dismiss the child and his mother with a year’s prescription of quirk stabilizers - it will be a temporizing measure for this universe-bending quirk while you come up with a long term plan on how to manage the quirk’s use.

“So why did you need this baby to use their quirk 5 times to make a diagnosis?” she asks, before you can even find a place to sit among your… contemporaries. You stop in your tracks, surprised, and she looks at you, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised as she, or rather you, waits for an answer.

Stung despite the situation, you’re immediately defensive.

“Well, I wasn’t completely sure what was going on and didn’t want to make any rash decisions.”

She snorts, and opens her mouth to say something else, but realizes that it’s only ridiculous to be arguing with yourself, then shakes her head again.

“I wouldn’t have done it,” she murmurs, and the fourth-realized you in the room shrugs.

“It’s not unreasonable to be overly careful sometimes. In my practice, I actually let most of the kids wear out their quirks completely,” she says without looking up. This version of you, surprisingly defending you, is dressed in clothing that is still casual, but less casual than the your first alternate version who must have been lounging about at home when she materialized in your universe. She’d fallen through to your world holding a cell phone in her hands that no longer works, and is still trying to find a way to get it to turn on when your head turns her direction. You anoint her with the name Text Message in your thoughts.

“I think you should just give up on that,” the third extra you says. She looks like you but somehow more exhausted, if that is possible, dark circles lining her eyes, and it reminds you to drink water and sleep at a reasonable time tonight. You give her the name Beauty Sleep. “If we’ve already established that we’re in an alternate universe, I’m pretty sure whoever you’re desperately trying to contact is going to have to wait a while.”

Text Message frowns then pushes her phone aside. Her legs cross at the ankles first, but then she sits cross-legged on the seat, mirroring the action of the first annoyed appearing version of you - Salty - but she looks more worried than anything. 

“Izuku and I were in the middle of a text conversation and stopped in a bad place, he’s going to be worried,” she murmurs in a quiet voice, leaning forward in defeat and pressing her chin to the table.

The mention of this name is sudden and unexpected enough that it startles you, but not as much as the fact that every other you in the room’s attention is suddenly captured.

“Oh shit, he is going to panic,” the quietest version of you in the room finally speaks up. She’d appeared with damp skin, a towel wrapped around her body and a plastic cap over her head, just fresh out of the shower, and the embarrassment she’d experienced as she scrambled to not expose herself to a bunch of strangers, including a child, prevented her from talking until now. Shower Cap is now dressed in a disposable medical gown that Junko offered her and looks concerned.

“He won’t die, he’s just dramatic,” another you pipes up. She’s the closest to you in appearance, nearly dressed in the exact same outfit, down to the white coat, except she opted for a bright red blouse, a color you wear rarely, over your more muted soft pink. 

“I mean we all know that,”  Salty starts, her voice flippant, “but I don’t think you not answering a text for an hour is that big a deal.”

“Plus, he’s probably working anyway,” Beauty Sleep chimes in.

Text Message frowns. “You’re acting like you don’t know his tendency to assume the worst, and I literally stopped talking mid sentence...”

Beauty Sleep and Salty both grimace, while Bright Red snorts.

“Kind of wish I could follow you back to your world just so I can see that search party.”

You continue to watch the other yous chatter and joke about Izuku in particular in confusion, without a word to say. It’s not odd for them to all know Izuku, after all, you went to high school with him and parted ways after graduation; you see him on every channel, every two billboards sport his million-watt smile, and you have his number in your phone even if you won’t call it, but the rest of your entities are preoccupied with him in a way much more than befits a high school friend whose paths no longer naturally cross. 

It’s only when you see the glittering rock on Red’s hand, the facets reflecting the overhead lights, and realize that more than one of these women has a variation of this exact engagement ring, that you start to wonder. Your heart thumps.

“Hold on, who is Izuku to you guys?” you ask, your look directly on Text Message first who appears genuinely appalled by the question. She stares at you wide-eyed, then to Red across the room, who tilts her head as she looks at you. Salty leans in and whispers something to Shower Cap.

One after the other, each responds and your stomach twists more with every single response.

Husband. Fiance. Live-in boyfriend. Husband. Husband.

You grimace, frankly somewhat stunned, but now they’re looking at you strangely, as though you’re the odd one in the room. 

Salty tilts her head. “Wait, what happened in this universe?” she asks. Beauty Sleep slaps her hand gently then hisses but it’s loud enough that you can hear.

“What if he died? It could be a sore topic!” she hisses. You look at her exasperated, reminding her that you can hear her.

“He didn’t die, we’re just…” you pause, unsure what to say next. You’re not friends, you’re not acquaintances, you’re just… not important to each other in this universe you think. Realizing that you had been standing the entire time, you slip into an open chair, and sit down. You run your hands through your hair for a moment, then sigh, then look up.

“Relationship issue?” Shower Cap asks, sympathetically. “We had a lot of those before we got married-”

You glare at her, and she falls silent. Salty’s hand goes to her belly for a moment, and she doesn’t say it, but the glow of her skin, the rounder cheeks, baggy clothing and snappy behavior now register to you as pregnancy. You hold your breath for a moment as this occurs to you, then irritation fills your throat instead.

“Enough about Midoriya.” You check your wall clock. Kazuo’s quirk, according to his mother, creates these clones for about 90 minutes, which gives you about a half hour to learn as much as you can from them. Rising again, you dig for five sheets of paper in a cabinet, and place a small stack with a pen in front of every version of you.

“Tell me everything up to today. Where you were born, family members, how your quirks work, etc. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Text Message gives you a sympathetic look, and you wonder if she can tell that you’re a bit shaken, then remember that of course you are, because you are her and she is you. 

You make your way out of the room quickly, and don’t return until they’ve vanished. The medical gown you gave Shower Cap lays crumpled in a chair, and Text Message’s phone is gone. You pick up 5 narratives, and prepare to go home for the night.

By the time you get around to reading those narratives, it’s ten p.m. and you’re sitting cross-legged on the chair in your home office, not unlike the way Text Message was earlier. It’s uncanny at first glance just how similar just the handwriting is, although you can detect some differences - Beauty Sleep’s handwriting appears sloppier and her words are more disjointed, and Salty’s handwriting is much more compressed, as though she had a lot running through her mind. They all wrote in the form of a letter, although you didn’t ask them to, but you’d imagine you would have to if you were put in their situation. Shower Cap signs off her name with a heart, like you often did in high school, and Bright Red signs her name with her first and last unlike the others, but the last name is Midoriya, and it makes your stomach turn.

You let out a deep breath and start reading. All the narratives are essentially the same, same family, same Quirk, same schooling in both length and general trajectory, with small differences. In Shower Cap’s universe, you have not started your clinic yet, and took a couple extra years for a postdoc degree in America. She returned to Japan just a few weeks ago. In Bright Red’s universe, your clinic is partially funded and owned by All Might’s memorial agency (he is thankfully still alive) and is much larger and well staffed than your clinic now. Beauty Sleep had a child a few months ago and has taken a leave of absence from both hero work and medicine. Salty did not start a clinic and did an accelerated medical program and instead works as a Support Type Hero on the field full-time, although now in a leave of absence due to her pregnancy. She’s thinking of a name. Text Message was the closest to choosing to leave Hero Work and medicine completely, despite the fact that she seems to live the most parallel life to you up front, and when you read her narrative more closely, it’s because she was practically killed during the war about a decade ago. It takes you a moment to recollect yourself as you read her narrative, tears pricking at your eyes, as you remember your own trauma that is nowhere close to hers. You were not on the front lines.

Multiverse theory on TV and cinema had never been that exciting to you, but you have to admit that seeing it in real life is a blow to the psyche.

As you continue to analyze, you can tell they attempt to not center their narratives around Midoriya, all except Shower Cap, who seems a lot more carefree than the rest of you overall, but there’s not much they can do to avoid discussing him when he’s their partner. This part confuses you and makes you uncomfortable. It’s not that you find Midoriya unattractive - in fact, you find him very attractive, and your crush on him was not particularly subtle in high school, but it never went further than a few pointedly kind words, enthusiastic smiles, the stutter when he approaches anyone of the opposite sex fading over time when he spoke to you. You became friends, close in the way that people who go through the same trauma of growing up and having to save the world do, but not close in the way soulmates or best friends are. After all, he had a soulmate, and he had best friends, and anything you could offer was already available.

And even that had trailed off over time as you got busier and life got more demanding.

Your last real conversation had been somewhere near the end of high school; you’d considered telling him you liked him, more than a little bit, but by then he’d appeared so far out of reach. Your window was closed and thus you stowed away your feelings. You had a short-lived high school romance shortly thereafter, a boyfriend from the support class, who you’d also ended up parting ways with just months after graduation. You’d launched yourself in your studies, cultivating your friendships with your family and best friends instead, unwilling to chase boys.

Unable to notice if you were being chased.

At the end of Salty’s narrative, she states that she understands why you’re confused. She’d also not expected to fall for Midoriya in any serious way, but the cards fell as they did. She reminds you that if it’s different for you, not to force it -

Not to let anyone else convince you that your life is anything less than it’s meant to be.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi writes: arltl #mimi's notes

[yuurei20]

Jade and Floyd Info Compilation part 44: Each Other (pt2)

During Harveston Jade tries to memorize how to make a certain dessert that looks like takoyaki (Floyd’s favorite food) by watching a local vendor so that he can try making it for Floyd, and Epel offers to give him the recipe directly.

Jade says, “I like it best when Floyd’s in his element, enjoying things as they come,” and that they have very different tastes: their parents ask them what they want for their birthdays every year, and thus far their requests have never overlapped.

Jade will “reprimand” Floyd without apparently meaning to hold him back at all, which he does multiple times in the main story and various events and vignettes.

When Jade does give him a serious command it is not unusual to see Floyd obey, but he sometimes will not.

Floyd takes a moray mascot keychain with him to the first Vargas Camp, saying that he brought it with him as a stand-in for Jade, who wanted to go, too.

When Jade goes to Vargas Camp 2, he brings with him a similar key chain of his own.

It seems it is not unusual for Floyd to borrow Jade’s clothes: Floyd mentions using Jade’s scarf for his dorm uniform and Jade’s labcoat for class.

Jade comes closer to seducing Eliza during the Phantom Bride event than possibly any other suitor, but his efforts are sabotaged by Floyd pointing out that the flower Jade offers her is poisonous.

Jade does not try to backtrack, explaining that he has given her a highly toxic flower that would cause a person’s hand to break out if they so much as touched it, “but it doesn’t seem to have an effect on ghosts. I’ve learned something new today.”

Eliza slaps Jade for the offense and Jack blames Floyd for the failure. Floyd says, “I just didn’t like the idea of him sititn’ pretty while I’m stuck in slapsville.”

Twitter user kanna_tkrb points out that Eliza’s refusals of her suitors are the same throughout Phantom Bride (in the original game), with the exception of Jade and Floyd.

Eliza calls Floyd 論外, which is close to “completely out of the question,” and Jade “物騒” which is close to “risky/unsettling.”

Floyd expresses concern for Jade not eating properly in two events, once in Beanfest and once during Halloween, where he encourages Jade to sit down and rest while Floyd fetches him food. Jade explains that his “fuel efficiency is lacking” (low blood pressure?).

Jade is Floyd’s judge for Culinary Crucible.

Floyd adds a wide variety of ingredients that were not in the original recipe and, according to the chef ghost, doubles the size of the dish.

Jade eats the entire meal without issue, to the chef’s surprise.

Jade’s appetite seems to rival that of Sebek: the two eat enough food for five people (“and they’re still goin’!”) at a marketplace in Harveston, and then they go back for dessert.

Jade says that eating so much is why he is so tall (he is 1cm shorter than Floyd, whose eating habits we do not hear as much about, though Rook says he once saw Floyd looking hungrily at a school of fish).

#twstfloyd #twstjade #Floyd Leech #Jade Leech #twstfacts #jadefacts #floydfacts

[pillow-anime-talk]

12 fluff promt for uta plz

# tags: scenario; current relationship; soulmate!au (tattoos); light romance; fluff; couple goals; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. uta {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hope u like it :) have a nice day/night!

12. “But we are not married.” “Then marry me.”

Punk music played at medium volume and spread throughout the building, and you jiggled your right foot to it while keeping your both eyes on the colorful magazine in your hands. From time to time you also glanced at your boyfriend, Uta, who was a few meters away from you, tattooing another client who wanted a huge red dragon across the entire width and length of his back. His concentration was really intriguing, and not even your warm gaze could snap him out of trance.

That’s why, after a few tries, you focused entirely on the thick periodical, reading about the biggest fashion bloopers of this month and dozens of romances in the world of showbiz stars.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

After another three hours, Uta finished part of the tattoo and thanked his male client for staying in the uncomfortable position for that time. Together with a middle-aged man who had a black beard and dark eyes, they agreed on the last meeting, and thus the last part of the beautiful painting that was to appear on the right shoulder blade. They shook hands, wished each other a nice evening, and then Uta closed the front door to his small tattoo studio, which he had been running for years on his own with no other employees. He turned off all the lights, then returned to a room decorated with a tattoo table, several cabinets, special equipment and a trash bin.

There was also a small, dirty-green leather couch and a table with a glass surface. There was you on the sofa, clutching a magazine in your hands, though your eyes were squeezed tight and your mouth slightly open. The calm face and light movements of the chest spoke loudly about the fact that somewhere in the middle of Uta’s work you fell asleep, and the only thing that appeared in your sleepy thoughts was the desire to drink a cup of coffee without milk and sugar.

For a brief moment, Uta didn’t have the heart to wake you up because he knew your life had been quite stressful in recent days and you had a lot of responsibilities in your private life, but at the same time, he didn’t want your head to hurt after this short nap, or worse, your back and neck.

Before waking you up, however, he glanced at one of the hands that was touching the paper and smiled at the small tattoo adorning your little finger. The drawing showed a full moon; light streaks and lines were made with the utmost precision – the tattoo looked like a real moon that can be found in the sky. After briefly glancing at your finger, he looked automatically at his own left hand and the left corner of his mouth twitched. On his pinky there was a drawing of the same size – the only difference was that there was a tiny sun on his pale skin.

He sighed though, touching your soft cheek covered with gold highlighter.

“... Mgmhm...” You muttered something unintelligible under your breath, which made the man laugh again. “Uta... It’s your turn to... Y-You have to take our kids to school... Mhm...” You said a little more clearly, though your voice was still quiet, muffled by yawns and the desire to stay asleep. It was, after all, close to eleven in the evening.

“Kids?” He raised an eyebrow and the silver earring a bit up. “But we are not married.” He added directly into your ear, and you wiggled your nose, keeping your eyes shut.

“Then marry me.”

Surely you dreamed something nice – there was a slight smile and a huge blush on your face. Uta gave up and decided not to wake you up. Instead, he lifted your body off the couch with no problem. He had placed the magazine on a glass table a moment earlier, next to a small candlestick and a vase of dead roses.

You were already soulmates, and that meant the bonds of marriage. Nevertheless, the vision of you two with a bunch of children and then grandchildren, although too beautiful, did not have to be unattainable.

#—🎉 #quote prompts #prompts challenge #4k followers #4k special #prompt 12 #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul imagine #tokyo ghoul imagines #tokyo ghoul scenario #tokyo ghoul scenarios #tokyo ghoul x reader #tokyo ghoul x you #tokyo ghoul x y/n #uta #uta imagine #uta imagines #uta scenario #uta scenarios #uta x reader #uta x you #uta x y/n #uta tokyo ghoul #uta tokyo ghoul imagines #uta tokyo ghoul scenarios #uta tokyo ghoul x reader

[not-wholly-unheroic]

A Comparative Analysis of Hook’s Ship and Cabin in Popular Media Portrayals

Part 4: Peter Pan (2003)

P.J. Hogan’s 2003 film is full of life and color, and Isaacs’ Hook is likewise a colorful character who, though grounded in reality, most definitely has a flair for the dramatic and a taste for the finer things in life.

Like the other Hooks we have seen thus far, Isaacs’ Jolly Roger appears to be the large stereotypical pirate ship that all children think of, despite the impracticality of a slower vessel in actual piracy. (By this point, I think we should just assume that all Hooks go for form over function when it comes to their choice of ship.) It’s a gorgeous ship, and I do wish we got more close-ups of the outside of this particular Roger so we could see more of what’s going on with all the decorative work on the outside of the cabin and the figurehead, etc. One thing, though, that stands out about this ship is that the mainsail itself has a giant skull and crossed swords on it. This would be completely impractical for any actual ship, as the enemy would see them coming and know they were pirates right off the bat…lending credence to the idea that this ship (and this Hook) may be deeply shaped by the children’s imagination. Then again…what else should we expect of a pirate ship whose name itself is the Jolly Roger?

The shots we get of the inside of Isaacs Hook’s cabin reveal the living space of a man who is accustomed to a decadent lifestyle but not so over-the-top as to be entirely unrealistic. While his beautifully decorated harpsichord is the centerpiece of the room, we also notice that he has several tables, a couch, and a globe.

This is about all we can tell from the in-film shots of the cabin, but some promotional material and a pirate-themed hotel that purchased a few set pieces from the film and set up their own room to mimic Hook’s can give us a few ideas about what the rest of the cabin might look like. (Big shout-out to @annabellioncourt for providing several of these bonus material images!)

In the one promotional photo, there is what looks like a lute, perhaps, in the background. I also love the little detail of the skull and crossbones on the candle stand…and his li’l stripey socks.

Here we can see the full-sized bed with a gun and what looks like it might be an Eton crest over it. (Note that if you pay close attention in Hook’s intro scene in the film, you will actually see that the tattoo on his left arm is an Eton crest as well.)

Isaacs Hook also has a self-portrait in his cabin, it seems…which interestingly has a date on the frame of 1742. This is about the most specific we get with ANY Hook as far as time period goes. This is after the Golden Age of Piracy had really already come to an end, though it’s technically possible he might still have been “Blackbeard’s bosun” depending on his age, as Blackbeard’s career ended in 1718 in a battle off Ocracoke Island, NC. Isaacs himself was around 40 years old when the filming was done, so if we want to assume Hook was around the same age when he came to Neverland and the portrait was done shortly before then, he would have been around 16 at the time of Blackbeard’s downfall. A bit young but…it’s possible if he started his career at sea early. Cabin boys usually started out around age 12 but could be as young as 8-ish on occasion. However…this wouldn’t really track with Hook being an Eton student. Assuming he actually graduated, he would have been at the school until he turned 18. So while Isaacs Hook may have very well been a sailor or even more specially a pirate prior to Neverland…he likely wasn’t a peer of Blackbeard or the other more well-known pirates of the early 1700s.

One last thing that is interesting to me is that in addition to the more standard weapons/tools like chains, guns, and boarding axes that we see in some shots, this version of Hook keeps what looks like an entire small cabinet of various tinctures and powders. At least the one of them which he removes is poison, but one wonders….are they all different kinds of poison? Or are some, perhaps, medicinal in nature or for recreational use?

As a whole, Isaacs’ Hook is, I think, perhaps one of the most realistic portrayals of the character. While there are some highly fanciful aspects to his ship—like the giant skull on the mainsail—much of his personal space has the lavish furnishings one might expect of someone with an aristocratic background without feeling too entirely impractical. Add to that a concrete date on the portrait, and I’d say this Hook is more grounded in reality than nearly any of the others we’ve encountered so far.

#captain hook #jason isaacs hook #captain james hook #James hook #Peter pan 2003 #jm barrie #jason isaacs #Peter pan #the jolly roger

[peachipeachy]

cool with you ☆彡 - ch. 01

(gojo satoru x fem!cupid!reader) based on the "cool with you" m/v by new jeans.

warnings: bow and arrows, slight mention of toxic relationships, use of (y/n), heavy denial of the reader being in love lolol, high school era gojo.

word count; approx. 1.5k

previous part here!

masterlist

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act i; accismus.

n. a form of irony in which a person feigns indifference to or pretends to refuse something he or she desires.

(where a cupid refuses to acknowledge her growing affection for the earth's strongest sorcerer.)

"the job of a cupid is a sacrifice. you are their rose-tinted glasses."

january, 2006.

three students sit underneath a large tree, using its size to protect themselves from the cool, winter wind. two boisterous boys, animatedly arguing, and a girl who couldn't care less.

"who gives a crap if you lost one pair of sunglasses?" geto suguru, the boy with long, dark hair and a cold glare says, "you have extras anyways,"

"it's not the same, suguru!" the snow-haired boy - gojo satoru - retorts, cheeks puffed and lips pouted, "those were my favourite pair!"

the bored girl, ieiri shoko huffs, removing satoru's glasses from her face.

"how did you even lose them anyways?" she asks, handing the pair back to its owner.

"i don't know! i took them off for one second, then the next thing i know is they're gone!" satoru whines.

lies. satoru gojo was lying off his ass here. in reality, he had taken them off to admire the various taiyaki he had bought. after reading about this exclusive pop-up store in shibuya from a magazine, the second-year student couldn't help but become giddy at the thought of tasting these so-called "heaven-sent taiyaki". and thus, amid his excitement, hadn't realised he had knocked his own glasses to the floor, only to be passed through kyoto's foot traffic and miles away from its owner.

placing the new glasses back onto his nose, satoru huffs.

"look, maybe you can retrace your steps tomorrow?" suguru offered, noting his friend's low mood on the topic, "it could still be there, or maybe some model citizen handed it to some nearby shops?"

"i guess..."

-------

despite being on good terms with each one of the cupids here, (y/n) still felt nervous. maybe it was because all of them were the ten high-rank cupids - the best of the best. and here she was, barely 16 years old but skilled enough for all of them to take notice of her. honestly, being that she was trained by the higher cupid, kalila, she wasn't that surprised that they called for her, her dedication to her job can attest to that. but still, (y/n) was nervous.

"what we are trying to say is simple, honey," haerin, the higher cupid on her left spoke, "we find that you're skills are advancing impressively, maybe in a few more years we could have an eleventh higher cupid at this table," despite haerin's sweet smile, (y/n) couldn't help but scoff internally. the job of a cupid is barely work. simply put, all they had to do was detect the romantic quickly and then act fast enough to initiate it before the moment passed. plus, it wasn't like the bonds she initiated were important. soulmate bonds - a human's final romantic bond is carried out by the higher cupids. the job of a cupid is simply a game of glorified snap.

contrary to how she felt, (y/n) smiled, bowing her head and thanking haerin for the compliment.

another higher cupid, alexei, moved to speak, "as well as that, (y/n) has had no issue with any distractions. its refreshing to see a cupid so young and so dedicated to her job," alexei spoke with a frown, his voice deep and intimidating, "we've seen too many of you fall victim to human love,"

(y/n) stiffened, suddenly extremely aware of the black-tinted sunglasses sitting at the bottom of her satchel as memories of a familiar pair of blue eyes played in her head. She had heard the stories of her peers - young cupids who become infatuated with human love, initiating romantic bonds between any humans passing by - not caring if they were compatible or not. no, these foolish cupids were simply obsessed with watching the spark of love over and over and over again, leaving harmful, rushed and dangerous relationships in their wake. and she was not like them at all. she was different; better. and the sunglasses at the bottom of her bag meant nothing to her...right?

-------

lost deep in her thoughts, the meeting flew passed, ending quickly. and the next thing (y/n) knew, she was back on earth. by herself. once again.

it was ironic, really. despite being messengers of love, a cupid's job is incredibly lonesome.

cupids rarely ever interact with one another, nor do they have any way to contact each other. that privilege is exclusively for the higher cupids only and is generally used to alert a lower cupid of a soulmate bond they are responsible for.

atop a building rooftop and soaking wet in the winter rain, (y/n) surveyed the moving crowds by shibuya station. sure, it was a bit more difficult detecting bonds through raindrops and herds of different coloured umbrellas but (y/n) is nothing short of a prodigy, and wasn't going to let water and a couple of thin, plastic barriers stop her.

bingo.

she felt it again, the beginning spark of a romantic bond. one red umbrella walking towards a yellow one. like clockwork, (y/n) took her stance, raising her hands as her trusty bow and one arrow materialised.

just as she's about to release the arrow, (y/n) feels her heart stop. a familiar mop of stark white hair stole her focus, and through the sea of umbrellas and raincoats, she noticed his eyes - bare, with no black-tinted barrier between them. now! she could give back his glasses now!

however, her dominant arm wobbled, and she suddenly remembered where she was. on a rooftop. with her bow and arrow. staring at red and yellow umbrellas. shit.

quick as a fox, her eyes tracked the red umbrella, letting the arrow fly as soon as she found it. and she did...seconds after it had passed the yellow umbrella. time stood still around her as she watched the red umbrella miraculously turn back around to face the yellow one.

"thank god," she whispered under her breath, that was too close of a call. she was almost distracted.

her arms fell back to her sides, brushing against the soft material of her satchel. oh right! his glasses! (y/n) rushed onto her feet, fingers digging through her bag. she will give back his glasses today...not because she wants to see him or anything! it was just the right thing to do. at least that's what she hoped.

-------

gojo satoru has a sweet tooth. even through wind, sun, heat and in this case, a rainstorm, he would never give up his daily sweet treat. so that's how he found himself outside a cafe on a rainy january afternoon, just a minute's walk from kyoto station, waiting for suguru to meet up with him. well, that and his unsuccessful search for his favourite sunglasses.

eyes shut, he held his flip phone up to his ear, "yes, suguru, i already asked if they had them,"

"and what did they say?" suguru's voice rang through the phone.

"they said no, and then i ordered some cheesecake to go," satoru replied, ignoring the way suguru groaned in response, "any luck on your end?"

"no," suguru replied, "maybe check around you, they could've ended up anywhere,"

"i doubt--"

his words died in his throat as a familiar presence entered his atmosphere. that girl. It has to be. his eyes flew open, darting around to find her.

nothing.

curious, satoru stood straighter, ready to start searching. he still felt her so she couldn't have gone far. before he could even take a few steps, a sudden rush of wind blew past him, almost knocking him off his feet. what the hell?

"hey! satoru! are you even listening to me?" suguru's distorted voice snapped him out of his confusion.

"yeah, yeah, what did you say?" he replied, half paying attention. he couldn't sense that girl anymore.

another sigh left suguru, "i said, i'm almost there, and that you should look around for your glasses if you're so determined to find this damn pair,"

satoru frowned, annoyed by the loss of both his glasses and that girl, "nah, i think i'll just wait for you," he took a step back, searching his surroundings before suddenly tripping over something.

frustrated, he turned to look at what it was - an arrow. sticking out of the ground. centimetres away from where he stood.

sure, being almost shot by an arrow was strange, but honestly, that was hardly the most confusing part about this. what stole his attention was the pair of sunglasses hanging from it. more specifically, his most cherished and most certainly lost pair of sunglasses attached to the arrow.

"what the hell...?" he muttered into the phone, bending down to pick up the arrow. it felt light, too light - like it could disappear at any moment.

"what? what happened?"

"nothing-- just get here as fast as you can, okay?" not waiting for a response, satoru hung up, inspecting his found glasses. did that girl have something to do with this?

-------

little did satoru know, that squeezed behind the trunk of a large tree stood a cupid, heart racing and missing one more arrow from her quiver.

a/n; hi!!!!!! okay so honestly im just throwing caution into the wind and writing this lol. thank you for reading this far and i hope you enjoyed it!

#gojo my mans >///< #writing?!?!?! #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x you #cool with you toru