#we could have just elaborated on the dream a BIT MORE I THINK

[pucksandpower]

Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[mayullla]

Title: Nahida's dream and plushies

Character(s): Nahida and most of the Sumeru characters (Genshin Impact)

Summary: In her dream, she saw a lady, someone she recognized but didn't remember who till she woke up, and right beside her were plushies waiting to be taken to their look a like

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader (but doesn't appear here), sagau as in cult au/god au, no romance just mainly fluff!

Klee and the little plushies Qiqi's plushie delivery Sayu's plushie mission Nahida's dream and plushies (you are here!)

Nahida was a little bit in a daze. Her mind was elsewhere as she looked at the dolls in front of her. Small dolls made out of felt and wool. They all looked familiar to her, and she would have cooed at how cute they were, yet her mind could not help but think about that lady in her dream.

She looked like someone she knew... that aura of comfort and kindness that surround her wasn't like those old grannies who gave kids candies kind of gentle but something more eternal, more powerful than that. It would be hard to compare the power she had to the archons cause you and they were so different... so far apart.

This supposes elemental power... colorless but moldable and changing. Even archons were limited to their own element and weren't limitless, the Geo archon was strong, and he could command meteorites to fall into Teyvat and build high mountains. But he could not command the sea to flood the world. She herself even as an archon wasn't able to do much in the face of many who didn't want her back once.

"What are you looking so gloomy at." Nahida snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a cold, harsh yet familiar voice speaking to her. Looking to the side, she saw that huge hat of a certain someone she knew. "Wanderer." Nahida smiled at him, moving to face him. "I was looking at these cute dolls. Don't they remind you of some people?" Nahida giggled, knowing full well that he was familiar with some of them.

Wanderer raised an eyebrow at the many dolls that were placed on a table at the side of the room. Small plushies with simplified designs of people he knew. Rather than cute...

"They look creepy rather than cute." Wanderer crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes.

"Do not say that. What if you hurt the person who made them." Nahida shook her head sighing. "Then they shouldn't have made such creepy things. What are they, a stalker?" Wanderer sarcastically replied.

"She is not a stalker... rather, she is someone we know... and wish to see. She made these just for us." Nahida replied. Looking back at the dolls walking towards it, she reached out for a small plushie from the bunch and handed it to the Wanderer. "Here. This is for you."

"Hmmm? I didn't know that there was another archon." Wanderer looked at the doll that looked just like him with the hair and clothes to the pout with a suspicious look. He must have noticed the white elemental aura surrounding it, but as Nahida continued to hold it out for him. Grabbing the doll, he took a closer look at it.

"She isn't an archon, someone far greater than that, actually..." Nahida replied to the Wanderer in a serious tone but didn't elaborate. Instead, she looked back at the plushies. "Wanderer, can you help me hand out these plushies. She had asked my help to give them out."

"Do it yourself. You don't really need my help with something like this. You are probably using this as an excuse for me to interact with more people." Wanderer huffed in annoyance, turning to leave. "If you don't need me, I will be heading out then."

"Hehe.. you caught me." Nahida laughed and let Wanderer head out. She, too, was busy with this after all. In her mind, she stored the memory of the Wanderer holding on to his plushie in one hand, the thoughtful looked he gave it when he thought she wasn't looking. She knew that he would not throw it away.

Storing them in a bag, she headed out of the room she started to search.

And the first person she found was Collie!

Collie was flustered when the dendro archon walked up to her as she had just come to the city with Tighnari as he had an appointment with his friends. She followed along as wanted to see the place again and buy some stuff that she could only get here.

She didn't think she would run into the dendro archon, much less suddenly be given a doll. "Is this for me?" Collie asked, taking the doll and holding it as if it would break by a slight touch. She heard from her friend Amber that she had received a doll from a mysterious lady and that it was the cutest thing ever. And it really was cute when Collie saw a small doodle of it she thought of getting one for herself.

She didn't expect she would be receiving one from the dendro archon! The both of them soon parted ways, and Collie thought of what she would tell Amber later on in her letter. Her little doll also had a small cat plush connected to it!

The next person Nahida found was Nilou, who was street performing in the middle of city hall. Her dance was so graceful and lovely Nahida didn't want to bother and instead watched till it ended, clapping when it had finished. Nilou greeted the Dendro archon with respect, happy that her archon made a visit and watched her dance.

Nahida told her that the dance was so pretty and gifted her the plush. Surprised, Nilou asked her if she was the one who made it, but Nahida shook her head, telling her that it was from a special someone.

The fans were jealous of how much Nilou treasured the doll, while others couldn't help but smile. After all, it was an honor to receive something given by the dendro archon, and they were proud of Nilous.

Next, Nahida found Cyno, who was in the middle of a TCG match. She watched him conquer the match after struggling in the first few rounds. "It is an honor that the dendro archon watched my match." Cryo raved on about his journey to win this match, and as a congratulation, Nahida gave him a little plush. "I shall treasure and protect this till my dying breath."

"Please, you don't have to go that far," Nahida replied with a worried smile. Tho it made her a little happy that he would treasure the plushie this much.

Next, she found Kaveh speaking with Dori, something about a dept, but before Nahida could get more information (not that she was trying to eavesdrop), they stopped as they had noticed her.

"My do what do I owe the Dendro archon the pleasure of visiting the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Could you be looking for something? Fabrics? Spice? Or something rare? I have it all!" Dori said, couldn't be able to contain her excitement at the idea of the dendro archon becoming her dear customer.

Kaveh was slightly more flustered but quickly composed himself and respectfully asked why she was here and if she was looking for something or someone.

"I am here to find you two." Nahida smiled and showed them two plushies that looked just like them. "They are a gift from a certain someone!" The two were surprised at the dolls, accepting them from her.

Both had different reactions.

On one hand, Kaveh had a more touched expression asking Nahida if he could know who made this lovely handmade plushie of him and his bag and that he wanted to give back, while Dori was more materialistic having come up with "a brilliant idea!" Raising her plushie with a purple small genie plush jingling at the movement to the sky, her eyes twinkling at the thought of potential mora~!

Nahida could only smile, her face hinting that the maker doesn't want to be known. Kaveh, knowing that he could not do anything here, could not help but sigh but stated that if this person were to ever need any help that he could possibly give, feel free to ask. (Dori was disappointed that she would not hire the person who made these plushies.)

The next she found was Candace and Dehya at the desert village, the two catching up after fighting some treasure hoarders trying to steal from the village. "Ah, it is the dendro archon Nahida! It has been a while!"

"Welcome to Aaru village, dendro archon."

Giving them their plush, both of them found the plushies absolutely adorable and asked the person who made them if they ever feel comfortable to come and visit them one time. Candace would gladly welcome them to the village while Dehya offered a small shopping spree as she knew all the trends and shops or if they ever needed a bodyguard one day just call her.

The last two girls, Faruzan and Layla, were found at the academy as both of them traded notes that were of interest but also some chit-chat. The two were surprised when they found out that the dendro archon was looking for them as one of the scholars frantically searched for them told them so.

"This is so cute. It even has twirly whirly my shroom buddy beside it.... I miss them." "This doll is very cute. You could see the hard work and effort placed into making each and every single stitch. Send the person who made them my thanks. I would do it myself, but it seems that they don't want to be known." "Me too! I think with this I could do better in my essay that I need to finish... yawn"

The last two people she needed to look for were Tighnari and Al Haitham and soon found them sitting at the cafe along with Kaveh and Cyno. In Al Haitham's hand was Kaveh plush while one Tighnari's was Cyno both examine it.

Cyno was going on and on about the card game he won in the presence of the dendro archon and that it was an honor to win in her presence as Tighnari told him to stop telling the same story for the third time now. "We get it. We know that you will hand down this plushie as a family heirloom!"

"There is something about these dolls that is not right...." Al Haitham narrowed his eyes at Kaveh's dolls. He definitely knew that something was up with these. "They are given by the dendro archon herself. Of course, they are unique! Gah, you are always suspicious of everything." Kaveh stated frustratedly. "Do you ever know how to relax and just appreciate the work that went into making this!"

"If you would just stop and look a little harder, maybe you would notice that something is odd about them." Al Haitham didn't look up at Kaveh. These dolls in the end weren't gifts from the dendro archon but someone who is probably of higher rank than an archon to be able to make the archon do such work.

"Al Haitham is correct about them being unique. You would never find these dolls somewhere else, even if you searched the whole Teyvat." Nahida cut in, walking towards them with a smile on her face. Everyone looked at Nahida, who stopped beside them, Al Haitham and Tighnari greeted her as they didn't see her beforehand like the other two boys had.

"These are for you!" Nahida giggled, handing Tighnari and Al Haitham their own plushies both thanking her for them. "What do you mean by unique?" Tighnari asked curiously, his tail swishing a little faster as he looked at his own doll. He saw Collie's one and wondered if he could get one, too. Lightly tugging the doll's ear long as his own, he looked at Nahida again.

"They are from someone special, someone who watches over us all." Nahida stated, her eyes closing as she remembered the lady she met in her dream, the little conversation that she and you had.

She didn't realize who you were nor why she thought that you were so familiar to her back then inside the dream she only realize who you were when she woke up and saw the plushies on the side of her and a familiar white elemental magic surrounding them.

Returning back to her room, she saw a doll that looked exactly like her surrounded by Aranara plushies. Smiling at the doll, she hugged hers and hoped that one day she would actually see you in person and not in a dream.

Note: If you find any mistakes here please tell me! Anyway, phew part 4 of the series is over! I know that Genshin has released characters outside of Sumeru that are not included here in the series yet but I plan on saving it for a later date when more characters for the past regions show up!

Another note for taglist: The tag list will be open later when Fontaine is somewhat finished and most characters are already out which would probably take a longggg time. But for now, the taglist will be closed. If anybody does not want to be tagged later tell me so that I can remove you from the list.

Taglist: @victoria1676 @muse-hub @simpaghettits @patimiet @mrmoneymoney @tsubasa10126-unwinds @akenofujihara @landofstarwind @imyme20 @strawberrgyuu @frostines-blog @barbaraphoetathoes @zyphyrr @that-emo-elf @itsyacuhjake @glue-bottle @tiffthescales @eliciana @the-real-fandom-person @pimacolada-lulu @mei-eishi @scalyalpaca @atsukawolfcat @riiriin @pale-value @dreamoffireflies06 @3noa3 @lwqfhp @mei-simp @silentterri @mishapotato @oyayablog @esthelily @tikitsune @shizunxie @jennyzyn @azelalxforfun @myhandshurts @wolfyzey18 @karma-gisa @chaoticfivesworld

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin sagau #genshin cult au #sagau #genshin god au #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #sagau genshin #sagau cult au #genshin sumeru #sumeru #genshin nahida #genshin cyno #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #genshin tighnari #genshin nilou #genshin candace #genshin dehya #genshin collei #genshin dori #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin layla

[winterbuckwild]

@flowercrowngods So sorry...

"Hey Robin, I think we have been missing each other, been a while. Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Hope you are having a great day. Guess ill..er...catch you later."

It had been nearly a year since he'd actually spoken to Robin. She'd gone to college across the country, so excited to finally get away from Hawkins; away from all the drama and trauma and pain, and Steve couldn't fault her for it. She was smart she had a dream and she was following it. And he loved that for her.

The phone calls started at a few times a week. Quick ones because they were both pretty broke, but it quickly became once a week when classes started. Every fortnight during exam season, and then an elaborate game of phone tag for a good three months when his shifts and her classes didn't match up.

Around month 7 he had sort of...given up. It had made him feel like a bit of a stalker in the end, his three phone calls to every one of hers, leaving shorter and shorter messages on her machine. He still wanted to talk to her every day, to tell her about the good things that had started happening to him.

How he'd gone to the library to figure out a sink issue and was too broke for a plumber and found out that he was pretty good with his hands. That he'd enrolled in trade school and was excelling. That he liked someone and he thinks it could be serious.

That the person he liked was a guy and that he was kinda scared and kinda excited and wanted someone to talk to about it. That the guy was Eddie of all people.

He wanted to gush about Eddie the way she used to with Vickie. That his hair was soft and his eyes were soft and his hands when he touched Steve were perfect and kind while his dimpled grin was wicked and promising. That Eddie was brave as fuck making the first move and patient with Steve's minor freak out that he was going through alone.

Eddie had helped him instead.

So it had been three months since Steve had tried calling, and he hadn't had a single message. No calls that he knew about and his machine worked fine. His number hadn't changed. He left the message as closure really, leaving a space in his heart for the friendship that changed him for the better, a friendship that he would always be grateful for. That he would always cherish.

But he couldn't keep waiting around, banging his head against that brick wall. He would always be there if she needed him but, well, she didn't really, did she? Not anymore.

He hung up the phone and grabbed his van keys. He'd traded in the beemer a month ago since he would need the space for tools eventually and it was like shedding that last little part of King Steve. The final nail in that coffin and he felt an odd sense of relief.

He was meeting Eddie before class, they were going to grab some lunch beforehand and then after come back and start packing up the apartment. Steve was moving in with him and he couldn't be more excited about it. He'd told Eddie that and the other man had beamed at him, just as pleased.

He didn't think about not having anyone else to tell.

#steddie #platonic stobin #stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #my writing

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Infection au part 4: Outbreak

the infection is no longer confined. you all get a little writing blip to enjoy as well :D pictures are at bottom. Tw blood/gore and disturbing imagery. also implied death. because of the amount of blood.

It had been several days since Dream, swap and Ink Found Cross lying on the ground. Several days since one of their enemies started pleading with them to help with something. Cross had been an emotional wreak the entire time. It almost hurt for Dream to be near him.

The panic and terror was overwhelming. Of course that didn't stop people saying this was some elaborate plan by Nightmare to do some sort of evil. Dream knew this wasn't true though. The emotions where real enough.

Right now though Dream was making his way to the room cross was in. It was really a glorified prison cell but at least it wasn't as bad as it could have been, considering Cross was a part of the most feared gang in the entire multiverse.

Dream stopped to greet the guards and was let in. The room wasn't lavish by any means but it had a bit of coziness to it, or maybe that was just his hopeful thinking. Cross was sitting on the bed picking at the magic canceling cuffs.

He looked up and spotted Dream. A mix of emotions always came from him whenever he was aware of the guardians prescience. There was an immediate sense of distrust and wariness but also a bit of reluctant hope. Even if he disliked dream he was aware that he was more likely to help than others.

"hey Cross" Dream said, his voice friendly.

Cross nodded in response. "what does the council say.."

"They still think it's a trap Cross." Dream sounded regret seep into his voice. He had to admit his story was rather hard to believe.

A look of anger Appeared on Cross's face. He looked like he was about to scream something in frustration but was interrupted by a guard opening the door. "Dream, we have reports of Nightmare and his team attacking underswap." Dream was confused. Normally he could sense the presence of his brother outside of wherever he his his base. Dream was then aware of the sudden increase of negativity in his friends au. Nightmare had never attacked such a positive au, doing so might have weakened him enough to risk capture or defeat. "I'm Coming, where is Blue and Ink?" Dream said heading to the door with a sense of urgency. Cross grabbed his arm making the guard step forward. "Dream please, Don't... just... Just you have to help Them- Don't let them get You. You can't help them if you end up infected- " The guard pressed the spear against cross's chest threateningly. He let go of dream and backed off. "Please- " Dream Nodded and left the room not fully understanding what exactly cross was asking him. The feeling of unease grew in his soul as he also felt the negativity in under swap rising. He found Swap waiting for him with Ink. The skeleton was obviously impatient to get going. the only thing stopping his was likely the fact he couldn't fight Nightmare's gang on his own. Dream made a portal and stepped through with his teammates. The terror dream sensed once he walked through was enough to make him stumble. It was so strong- "Dream..." Blue sounded shocked and fearful.. Dream looked up he wished he hadn't

btw there are more infected atm. several actually. The gang didn't stay in the castle very long after cross left this is just the first big attack. I couldn't draw all the infected currently attacking and they aren't very big to the story. The Infection has been spreading a bit under the radar.

#undertale au #nightmare sans #herrings art #utmv #infected au #bad sanses #cross sans #killer sans #horror sans #dust sans #Nightmare sans #Dream sans #star sanses #tw blood #tw implied violence #tw implied death

[puranami]

✿ Omelette - The Morning After ✿

A/N: I did leave the original with a point to start a follow up if the mood struck, and people have been showing interest, so here we are... doing our best __φ(．．✿)

Summary: The morning after Sanji found you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour, you are no longer overtired and must deal with the fallout.

Content: Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs were. Even more pining with a nice side dish of denial, G/N reader ✿

(Part 1) - (Part 3)

"Oh my god..."

You cringe into your pillow, unsure of how you are supposed to face the day, and especially Sanji, after last night's omelette fuelled shenanigans. The entire thing had felt like a dream, and you would have gone on with the rest of your life believing that's what it was were it not for one glaring issue.

Sanji's nightshirt.

It was still comfortably wrapped around you, still with that sweet and musky scent that had enveloped you as you finally managed to sleep, and you couldn't help nuzzling into the sleeves with a contented sigh.

"No! Stop that!" you shouted internally, forcing yourself up in your hammock. "You do not have feelings for him, he does not have feelings for you; he was just being a good friend lending you his shirt because you were a dumbass who forgot to put on pants!"

You felt your chest tighten somewhat at your inner monologue. Maybe you did have a tiny bit of a crush, truly miniscule really, nothing to get yourself worked up about. You let out another small sigh, starting to fiddle with the top button, knowing you had to take it off and return it.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to.

Surely it'd be okay to hang onto it a little longer, right? It would be bad manners to hand back a dirty shirt, so you should definitely wash it first at the very least. And since you aren't due to do your laundry for a couple more days; maybe you can wear it at night in the meantime?

You let out an audible groan, flopping back down onto your pillow face first, hardly able to believe your own thoughts.

"Why am I being so weird about this?" The cycle of cringing into your pillow begins again.

A sudden knock at your door surprises you, and you nearly fall out of your hammock. The door opens a crack, not enough to see in or out of, and a familiar voice greets you.

"Just wanted to check in, darling, you're missing breakfast, and if you don't get there soon," Sanji trails off, not needing to elaborate on the eating habits of your captain. He gives you a moment to respond, but you can't find any of your words; you needed more time to overthink about how you were going to talk to him! You pull your blanket up over your head in a poor attempt to hide from the situation.

Thinking you were still asleep, and knowing that you were properly covered thanks to his actions during the night, he opens the door further and peeks his head in.

"Darling?"

He lets out a little laugh seeing your blanket covered form still in your hammock. Letting himself into the room fully he makes his way over to your little sanctuary, unaware of the utter panic contained within, before crouching down beside you. A gentle hand rocks you ever so slightly in an attempt to rouse you from your assumed slumber.

"It's time to wake up, love," he almost whispers.

You instinctively groan at the pet name, mentally cursing yourself for it immediately after - you can't pretend to be asleep anymore now. Resigning yourself to your fate, you slowly pull the blanket down a little, at least enough to look at him.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He beams, always happy for any time in your presence. "You're going to miss breakfast."

God damn this radiance in human form. You take a stabilising breath before reluctantly sitting up, allowing your blanket to fall down to your waist. Sanji couldn't help the cheeky little smirk that graced his face upon seeing his nightshirt; you could have easily taken it off once you got back to your quarters, but here it still was.

"What's the face for?" You grumble, poking his forehead and lightly pushing him back. Sanji giggled as he lost his balance, deciding it best to sit beside you instead of crouching. He leaned his arms on the side of the hammock and looked up at your pouting face, smiling at how cute you were.

"Comfy, sweet?" The amusement in his voice was painfully apparent as he gave the collar of the shirt a playful tug.

Burying your face into sleeve covered hands to hide the blush you felt forming, you let out an exasperated sigh, falling onto your back while muttering various curses, causing Sanji to let out a hearty laugh. As much as he was enjoying how flustered you were, he was cautious about pushing things too far; he wanted to win your affections, and too much teasing may undermine that for him. He gently pats the top of your head, making you jump slightly from the unexpected touch.

"You know, if you want to keep a hold of it, I wouldn't mind." You pull your hands down to look at him, eyes wide while still covering the lower half of your face. It was like he could see right through you, like he had heard your earlier thoughts about keeping it, at least for a couple more nights. What witchcraft was this!

"W-what? No! I..." you finally manage to blurt out, sitting up once more. Time to attempt some damage control and deny everything! "I appreciate that you were just helping me out, a-and I was gonna wash it before giving it back!" Sanji had taken to leaning on one of his hands, a lazy smile on his face, endlessly amused by this whole thing. He's never actually seen you in this state before - you're usually so composed.

"It's alright, love, I have other shirts," he shrugs. Throughout this entire exchange, you hadn't reacted to any of his terms of endearment like you usually do.

Maybe it was time to try his luck.

"You wear it much better than I do, anyway." Sanji flashes you a flirty wink, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. In a last ditch attempt to salvage your carefully crafted aloof image you throw your blanket over him.

"Stop looking at me with your dumb face!"

The man is unfazed.

Giggling like an idiot he flips the blanket back over the hammock, keeping his hands up afterwards in surrender.

"Alright, alright, I yield." He lifts himself off of the floor, patting down the back of his suit trousers. "Breakfast has probably been demolished by now, so when you're ready, come to the kitchen, and I'll make something special for you." He graces you with one last signature golden smile, before heading out, pausing at your door momentarily.

"How does an omelette sound, love?" He can't help snickering, and your face flushes deep red.

"Out!!" You yell as you throw your pillow at him, which he easily bats away while laughing. Once he was gone and the door was shut you cursed; it felt like your heart was trying to escape the confines of your body, and the intensity was overwhelming.

You refused to admit it, but you were down bad for this beautiful menace.

To be continued? Oh no! Welp, looks like the oneshot I initially started with has turned into a little series :3c I really enjoy writing Sanji, can you tell?

#one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you

[dulcesiabits]

stars you only see during the day.

summary: reo mikage needs a date for his parties, and you need something to do during the summer. What could possibly go wrong when you both enter a contractual relationship?

notes: 11k words, fic, author's notes, fake dating, trying to capture goofy summer fun romcom vibes

Swanky parties like this are so not your style. 

Lavishly dressed guests buzz in little groups, sporting designer handbags and miles of silk that cost more than your entire house. Tropical fishes swim in tranquility through the glass tanks of the walls, which cast blue light over the white tablecloths and platters of prime cut roasts and elaborately crafted desserts dusted in gold dust.

Honestly, you wouldn’t normally have been allowed into a place like this; the security guards would have taken one look at your sneakers and chain store jeans and told you to go home. But you’re not here as a guest. No, your sister has hooked you up with a gig as a caterer, so you’re actually one of the invisible waitstaff in a stiff black vest and white collared shirt, drifting amongst the crowd, serving rich people their fancy little foods.

“It pays well,” your sister had pronounced, batting her eyelashes at you. “Come on. You’re always strapped for cash. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“And if it’s so good, why aren’t you going?” you had asked her dryly. 

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t have the time. Otherwise I’d be hustling with you. Come on, do it for me! It’ll be fun! The place will be nice, promise!” 

Nice is an understatement for how decadent the place is. If you were to break something here, you think your family would be in debt for the next seven generations over. But since you’re captive to your need for money, you try to skirt past the pricer decorations. 

Still. Your sister is right in that this is a simple, and more importantly, well-paying, gig. Get in, walk around aimlessly with a platter in your hand, and get out. That’s all you were looking forward to, really: the paycheck at the end of this. You vaguely recognize some of the guests– probably from the news or on social media, A-list celebrities and trust fund babies– but you don’t care enough to take a closer look.

It’s been a few hours into your shift, and your arm is starting to cramp from carrying around a silver plate for most of the evening. The little shrimp on your plate are dwindling, and you rotate around the room slowly one last time to tempt people to grab your food. Then, you can take a break and put up your feet, and maybe sneak a little bit of the fancy food to try yourself; after all, you heard that some of the ingredients were imported straight from Europe.

You pass by a pack of guests knotted together near a table, and one of them bumps into you with enough force to make you stumble, some youngish looking man in a white suit and slicked-back bleached hair. He barely spares you a glance. 

“Watch where you’re going or I’ll get you kicked out,” he snarls.

“Right. Sorry, sir,” you say blandly, fighting back the urge to strangle him and ask “who the hell do you think you are?” Your sister has warned you to stay out of trouble, after all.

“Don’t bother the waitstaff, Takei-san,” someone says just as Takei sneers, opening his mouth to berate you some more, probably. He looks the type. But Takei’s head swivels back around so fast it makes you dizzy. You crane your head, just in time to catch the owner of the voice: a boy with a flute of fizzy water in his hand. He’s cute, with uneven bangs and a dove gray suit, and probably around your age, if not a little older.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mikage-san,” Takei simpers. “Ah, but we have more important matters to discuss, don’t we? What do you think about meeting my sister? She’s lovely, and she’s around your age. Just say the word, and I can arrange a meeting!” 

Mikage? Is that the boy’s name? It’s familiar. You’ve seen it on social media a few times; maybe this boy is a lot more famous than you thought. He’s a corporate heir, if you remember correctly. Mikage catches your eye and inclines his head, as if to say you were free to go. 

“I would have to think about it, Takei-san,” Mikage replies, turning back to Takei. If there’s one thing you can pride yourself on, it’s how to read people, and there’s plenty to dissect from Mikage’s tense body posture. There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. In fact, he looks a little bored, underneath that veneer of politeness. Bored, and strangely vacant, as if the uppercrust of Japan’s society weren’t more interesting than the blades of grass outside of his window.

Normally, you would shrug, go “that sucks for him,” and run back to the break room as soon as you could. The problems of fancy rich boys aren’t really your business. But it’s been a long night, and you’re a little antsy (your troublemaking instinct, as your sister calls it). That, and maybe you’ve watched too many romcoms and dramas with your sister recently, too, because he’s cute. And, well, you should at least try to help out the guy who helped you, right? Tic for tat, and all that, even if it was a small thing on his part.

But none of your justifications to yourself really matter, because you’re already sliding your way into the crowd until you’re at Mikage’s elbow, saying, “sir?”

He inclines his head at you without really looking at you. “Yes?”

“There’s someone looking for you,” you say blandly. “They were impatient. It seemed important.”

“Hm? Did they tell you their name?” Mikage asks.

“Didn’t quite catch it, but it’s urgent,” you stress.

Mikage’s eyes widen, just slightly, and you can see the puzzle pieces coming together in his head. He must have picked up on what you were doing, because he nods gravely, and says, “I should head over, then. It’s probably Yasuhiro-san. Can’t keep a board member waiting.”

“Ah, but Mikage-san–” Takei’s mouth is slightly slack, and he glares at you when you catch his eye. What did you even do to him? Is he mad that you’re taking Mikage’s attention off of him?

“I should go.” Mikage extracts himself from the crowd, who all groan in disappointment. As the two of you leave, you make sure to subtly dig the heel of your shoe onto Takei’s foot, who yelps.

“What the– Did you just step on– Hey! Stop!” 

But you’re speeding off with Mikage at your side, and you try not to grin when you imagine Takei’s red, angry face. 

Mikage snorts, but when you glance at him, he’s passed it off as a cough, turning his face into the crook of his elbow. “You’re a bit clumsy, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say primly, and this time, Mikage doesn’t hide his laugh. To keep up your ruse, you lead Mikage into a hallway, where rows of imported European impressionist art stretch along the walls, your footsteps sinking into the plush burgundy carpet.

“So… I have to be honest,” you say. “There isn’t someone asking for your presence. I made it up to get you out of there. Surprise!” You wave your hands.

Mikage crosses his arms. “So why did you do that, then?”

“You helped me, so I helped you,” you say simply. “Besides, you looked bored.”

In the darkness, Mikage is reduced to shadowy shapes, but you can still feel the force of his gaze, like a lighthouse cutting through the darkness. He’s appraising you, and it sends tingles down your spine.

“Huh.” That’s all Mikage says, and you wonder if you passed whatever mental evaluation he was doing.

 The platter is still in your hands, and there’s still a few shrimp left, so you grab one and shove it into your mouth. You chew, savoring the freshness, and the tangy sauce it’s coated in.

Wait. It’d be rude to just eat in front of someone, without even asking if they’re hungry. You offer Mikage the plate. “Want one?”

“S… sure,” he says, carefully plucking a shrimp between his thumb and forefinger, before placing it on his tongue. The two of you pass the platter back and forth between each other until it’s empty.

“That was good!” You stretch your arms over your head. “I wanted to try at least some of the food at this party before I went home. There’s nothing else really going for this place. No offense,” you add. 

“None taken. You’re… huh.”

“Weird? Bold?” you supplement. “I’ve heard it all.”

“No, I was going to say you’re interesting,” Mikage says quickly.

You roll your eyes. “Interesting? Like a dog?”

“I would say you remind me more of a hamster,” Mikage says. 

“A hamster? Really? What if I bit you right now?”

“I’m not sure you could do much to me.”

“I wouldn’t want to damage my teeth, anyways,” you quip. The noise of the party leaks into the hallway, and you glance back through the door. “I should get back. I don’t want to give anyone an excuse to dock my pay.”

Before you can move a step, Mikage holds out a hand. He takes a breath, as if coming to some sort of internal decision. “Wait. What if… I hired you for something else?”

“For… what?”

“What if I hired you to stand around and talk to me?” 

You take a step back. “Um… I’m a first year in high school, just so you know. I don’t want to do anything weird.”

“Wh– No!” Mikage says, his veneer of poise sliding right off and shattering onto the floor. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m not asking you to– I just– I’m only a second year!” he adds.

“Takei did offer to introduce you to his sister back there,” you say wryly, jerking your thumb towards the party. “And, like, I don’t know much about your life, but if you’re desperate enough for company, there’s dating apps. Just… uh… hang in there.”

Mikage runs a hand along his face. “I’m not desperate. I’m the most popular guy in my class, just so you know.”

“Okay…”

“I wanted to ask if you would date me,” he says, “Fake date me. Because people like Takei keep trying to jump down my back and draw me into political marriages. We can draw up a contract to make it official,” he adds hastily. “I just need someone to come with me to parties like this as my partner.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’re interesting,” he says simply. “Besides… you would get to eat as much shrimp as you want. Without having to sneak them off of plates.” 

“I don’t know,” you say coyly, looking down at your fingers. “I don’t really like doing boring things.”

“It won’t be boring.” Mikage takes a step towards you, confidence in his face, a hand on his chest. “I’ll ensure everyday is fun for you.” 

You can already imagine what your sister will say when you tell her what happened today. No doubt she and your older brother would both groan at your carelessness. What if this is some sort of prank, or fancy trick? Oh well! You’ll just have to take your chances. 

You stick out your hand. Mikage takes it without hesitation. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal. But if it’s boring, then I’m going to leave you, Mikage,” you warn. 

“Hah. You’ll never have a reason to,” Mikage says confidently. “But call me Reo.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We just met, and you want me to call you by your first name? Moving fast, are we?”

“I’m going to be your fake boyfriend,” Mikage says. “Don’t tell me you’re already getting cold feet.” 

“Not at all. You can call me by my first name too, Reo,” you emphasize. “I’m looking forward to working with you.” 

Reo smiles, squeezing your hand once before firmly shaking it. “Likewise, partner.” 

Well. This certainly isn’t what you expected to get up to when your sister offered you the job, and there are a thousand ways this could blow up in your face. What if Reo is actually a bad person, and tried to sell your organs? Or his mother threw money at you and told you to leave her son because you aren’t good enough for him, just like in every drama you’ve seen?  

But this is the most exhilarating opportunity you’ve been offered in a long while. Exciting experiences, and fun opportunities: you’ve always been the first to jump onto those. Besides, Reo is cute, and this deal will definitely be a good story to tell your friends about later. There’s no way this could go wrong.

—

You’re usually never up before 10am, but somehow, at 8am a few days after the party you worked at, you find yourself at a little cafe in Shibuya, blinking blearily in the pale light. Reo, sitting across from you, has a cup of coffee steaming at his elbow, and you privately curse his poise and his nice polo and slacks. How dare he look so put together, especially when you just threw on some clothes from your floor.

“So,” you say, propping your elbows on the table, your cheek pressed against your hand, “What was so urgent that you couldn’t wait for a more decent hour to call me?”

Reo raises an eyebrow. “This is a decent hour. But I wanted to discuss the terms of our contract.” 

You stare at him blankly. He snaps his fingers. “Remember? Our deal?”

“Right.” You yawn, and Reo pushes his cup of coffee towards you.

“I haven’t drank any of it yet,” he says. “Have some.”

“So no indirect kiss for me?” you tease, but take a tentative sip of the brew. You wrinkle your nose; it’s bitter and dark, and it stings your mouth as it goes down. “You didn’t put cream in this.”

“I like the way coffee tastes naturally. Besides, the coffee they brew here is through a special drip pour method, to allow the beans to retain maximum flavor…” You take another sip as Reo rambles, and shudder. Well, you were definitely more awake now.

“So, what is this about a contract?” you say. 

“I want us to establish some ground rules for our deal, just so we’re both clear on the expectations and procedures for what we’re about to undertake,” Reo begins. He slides a packet of paper across the table, the kind that’s made with cardstock, thick and creamy. It’s neatly formatted, but your eyes glaze at the professional tone and the dry language of the text.

“All right, hit me with it, rich boy,” you say, slouching back in your chair.

“Well, I wanted to establish a basic time frame for our operation, as well as some ground rules, and cover some of the various scenarios you might encounter–” You put up a hand, and Reo pauses. 

“Do you have a pen?” you say bluntly. 

Reo fishes out a fountain pen from his bag. “I do, but why do you–”

You flip over the packet to the blank backside, and write down a number one. “So! I think it’s really nice of you to get this entire thing prepared for us, but this is too much. We’re high schoolers, and your rules are 15 pages long. Why don’t we make this easier on ourselves?”

Reo purses his lips. “I guess. For the sake of fairness, it’s probably better if we come up with rules together.”

“Great! So, rule number one. We’re going to be fake dating until you stop needing a date to your parties. That’s probably going to be when summer ends, so that’s when our contract ends. Rule number two. I’ll go with you to all your fancy parties, but you have to help me with, like, etiquette and clothes and what to say. I’ll just be your eye candy. Which I absolutely excel at, by the way. Rule number three. I’ll go to as many parties as you want, but you need to give me at least two days’ warning in advance. I have my own life, you know.” You scribble as you talk, and Reo nods at each of your rules. When you pause, you look up to see Reo with furrowed eyebrows.

“Add another rule,” Reo says seriously. “No falling for each other.”

You burst out laughing, dropping the pen in surprise. A few early morning workers stare at you as they walk past, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. “Seriously? Do you think this is a drama?”

“It’s a necessary precaution,” he insists, but his ears are red. “I just want to make it absolutely clear: this is all for show.”

You snort, but move to jot down the rule anyways. “No offense, but you’re not my type at all. That’s not going to be an issue. You’re kinda full of yourself, huh?”

“I’m not! I’m just saying with my specs, it wouldn’t be weird if you–” Reo falters at your pointed stare. “Listen. I’m used to all sorts of people coming up to me. It doesn’t hurt to be careful, okay?”

“Maybe you’re scared of falling for me, Reo,” you say, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. “I understand, though. I’m pretty cute.”

Reo purses his lips. “And no offense to you, but you’re also not my type at all. I prefer people who are more mature.”

You throw your hands up in mock offense. “Wow! Only five minutes since our fake relationship began, and you’re already hurting my feelings.”

“My apology, baby,” Reo says in a cloying tone. “How on earth shall I make it up to you?”

You shudder. “For starters, don’t call me baby ever again. Ick.”

“I don’t–” Reo begins indignantly, but you quickly scribble your signature under your list of rules, before thrusting the paper at him. “What?”

“Sign your name,” you say, “So it’s official. Isn’t that how you business types like to do things?”

“We’re minors. Our signatures don’t count. But if you insist,” Reo says, signing his name with an elegant scrawl.

“Perfect! Now that we’re officially dating, what do we do?” you say.

“What about a date? A practice one,” Reo says hastily. A pity, because now you can’t tease him about how enamored he is with you. “It’ll be easier to act like a couple at parties if we’re more familiar with each other.”

“All right. Come pick me up in two days, then. And at noon,” you add, “Because I don’t want to do an early morning date.”

“What about right now?” Reo protests.

You throw him a withering stare. “First, I’m not dressed for the part. Second, neither of us are prepared. And third, what did I just say about early morning dates? We need a bit of planning time, rich boy, because dates are serious business.”

Reo holds up his hands. “Okay, okay. I got it. I’ll run our plans with you by tomorrow, at the latest. Sounds good?”

You smile. “Great! Sounds like you’ve already got being a good boyfriend down pat. See you in two days, boyfriend.”

—

If there’s one thing Reo is, he’s meticulous. After you part ways, you exchange phone numbers, and true to his word, he blows up your phone with a detailed plan of your first date. He’s so overzealous in planning that you remind him it’s just a practice date, and that it’s better to keep things casual, rather than the boating-fancy restaurant-live musicians extravaganza he has planned.

Two days later, when you ascend from the subway steps into the sticky summer heat and walk a few blocks until the concrete turns to greenery, you find Reo waiting at a nearby park, sunglasses on his face and a wicker basket under his arm.

“Welcome,” Reo says, making a half-bow. “I hope you’re ready for the date of a lifetime.”

“I’m giving you three stars of five,” you say.

“Wh– We haven’t gone on it yet! How can you rate me that low?”

“Two out of five,” you say. “Just for talking back to me and questioning my review.”

“Let’s just hurry up and go,” Reo grumbles. 

The two of you glide alongside blossoming trees, white flowers perfuming the air, and cross a stone bridge stretched invitingly along a river. The water rushes cold and clear across gray stones, a weeping willow trailing its graceful limbs on the opposite bank.

When you reach a narrow glade, Reo gallantly unfurls a blanket and spreads it along the grass. From the wicker basket emerges a rainbow of sandwiches, freshly cut fruit slices, and a thermos of tea.

He pours you a cup, and you take a sip as Reo settles down with a sandwich.

“You went through a lot of trouble to set up this contractual date,” you say, picking up a slice of skewered mango. “What’s the point? Couldn’t you just hire someone else?”

“Do you think I could set up an ad, announcing to the world that the Mikage heir is looking for a partner?” he says dryly. “Any of the other people I could have asked run in my parents’ business circle, too, so it wouldn’t have been convenient for me. And I’m not risking my own social standing at school by asking a girl from there. That leaves you.”

You twirl the mango around. “What if I was, like, a bad person, though? And I leaked your personal information or something?”

“I ran a background check on you. You came up clean.”

“What? Hey! That’s not fair. I didn’t get to run one on you,” you protest.

“I’m someone in the public eye,” he says. “Anything you want to know about me, you can look up online.” 

To be fair, you had googled his name when you got home after your morning meeting, and scrolled through his various public social media accounts. Not that he needed to know that. Wait, maybe he already did, if he ran a background check on you. Did he have access to your internet history? Okay. Maybe it’s better to stop thinking about that before you drive yourself insane.

“But that’s not the same as getting to know you. The person Mikage Reo is in public, and the person he is in private are two different people. Tell me something juicy. Like, why don’t you just reject any proposals thrown your way instead of getting a fake partner?” you say.

Reo spreads his hands. “Social maneuvering. It’s better to ward off people from sending proposals to me in the first place than it is to reject each and every person who approaches me.”

“Sure. That makes sense. So… then… Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

“What sort of question is that?” he says.

“I’m trying to get to know you,” you declare, “And I’m curious. You can ask me a question like that, too, if you want.”

“I can answer your question. It’s fine.” Reo pours himself a cup of tea. “Being in love… I haven’t. Not yet. I’ve never been interested in romance. Why, have you?”

“I wouldn’t call it love, but I did date a boy back in middle school. Not because I really liked him, but because he thought I was cute, and I liked him well enough as a friend. Didn’t last too long, though. Your turn for a question,” you add.

Reo takes a sip. “Well, I was wondering… do you have any hobbies?”

“That’s a pretty simple question. But I like scrapbooking and volleyball. I like making memories, and I like sports.”

Reo leans forward, a keen interest in his eyes. “Do you like football, then? I run the school’s football club.”

“I’ve only ever played a little with my older brother. He’s the bigger fan,” you admit. “Do you want to play a game one day? I bet I could demolish you.”

“Hah. As if. I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t regret it later,” you warn, and he laughs. “What do you even like about football?”

“I want to win the world cup,” he says simply. “It’s my dream.” His eyes are reflective, and there’s an edge of seriousness to his tone, an intensity he’s never had before.

You pick up a cucumber sandwich, taking an experimental bite. “When you do, give me an autograph. I can sell it for a million yen.”

“No jokes? I thought you would tell me it’s silly.”

“Well, it sounds like it’s important to you. I’m not going to make fun of something you care about,” you say, amused, shoving the rest of the sandwich into your mouth.

Reo scratches the back of his neck, though there’s a pleased, cat-like smile curling on his face. “Thanks. Do you have a dream?”

“I don’t know if it counts, but I just want to have fun. I want to see new places, and to meet new people, and to experience all sorts of fun things. Isn’t that enough?”

Reo picks up another sandwich, handing it to you, which you demolish in one bite. “I think it is,” he says. “It sounds like you.”

You lick the crumbs off your lips. Reo is a lot more… different, than you thought a corporate heir would be. But it’s nice that it’s easy being with him. Easy, and fun. “I should thank you, actually. This contract is pretty exciting. I’ve never done anything like it before. Thank you, Reo.”

“I don’t know if this is something you should thank me for. But you’re welcome. Thanks for agreeing to go along with me,” he says.

You smile at him, sunshine warm on your shoulders. “So, when’s the first party, boyfriend? I’m pretty excited for it already.”

“Straight to business, huh? Well, it’s in a few days. I’ll text you more details later, and I’ll come pick you up. But hey, before that…” Reo offers you his hand. “Do you want to take a walk? Weather’s nice.”

“Oh! Make sure the car you come in to pick me up is real fancy, okay? My family’s going to be home, and I want to rub it in my brother’s face,” you muse.

“That’s easy. Who do you think I am?”

You don’t hesitate as you slip your hand into his. His grip is soft but strong, and when he pulls you up, for a second, all you can see is Reo, outlined by the glow of the sun.

—

When the sleek black car pulls up to the entrance of your house a few days later, your older siblings are crowded around the window, peeking through the curtains to catch the first glimpse of your date. Your sister whistles, while your brother’s jaw drops.

“What is this?” he says. “What–”

“It’s my date,” you say smugly.

“Your date? Someone wants to go out with you?”

You smack him on the shoulder. “Yeah, unlike you!”

“Does he have money?” your sister asks. “Because good going. Make sure you milk him for what he’s worth.”

“I just– what the hell? No way you got a date before me. And not in that– that car!” your brother complains, rubbing his shoulder, but you’re already skipping out the door.

“Great work, boyfriend,” you say to Reo, blowing him a faux kiss. He’s waiting for you outside the car, already dressed in a navy blue suit.

Reo has an irritating little smirk on his face. “What can I say? My wonderful partner told me to bring a fancy car, and I just had a hard time choosing which one.”

He pulls open the side door for you with an exaggerated flourish, and you slide in. The seats are smooth leather, and the AC is cranked to a cool temperature. There’s more than enough room for a dozen other people, and there’s a mini fridge in the corner that, when you open, is stuffed full of drinks. The windows are tinted, but that doesn’t stop you from rolling it down to wave at your flabbergasted brother before you go, your sister the only one to wave back.

“What do you want me to do at the party?” you say, settling into the supple leather. 

“Just stick by my side,” Reo says. “And try not to offend anyone.”

“Done, and done,” you say, throwing him finger guns.

After half an hour, you and Reo chatting to pass the time, the limo pulls to a smooth stop at the end of a gravel-lined driveway. It’s lucky that Reo is the one who helped to choose and sent an outfit to you prior to the party, because all the other guests lounging in the gardens or spilling out the wide open doors are dressed to the nines. You don’t even want to think about the costs of some of those clothes. The inside of the venue is sparkling so brightly that you almost can’t make out any of the decorations; it’s just gold on top of gold on top of gold, but there is, luckily for you, a buffet table in the corner.

As soon as the two of you step foot through the door, you’re swarmed by a pack of guests with glittery smiles. Reo swiftly takes your elbow, pulling you closer to him, and you discretely loop your arm around his.

“Who is this, Mikage-san?” someone says. An actress, you’re sure. Is she eying you with… envy? Okay, that is weird. Wow. You’re pretty sure she’s been nominated for several different awards.

“They’re my date for the night,” he says smoothly.

“How sweet!” the actress says, and after giving you one more side-eye, turns her attention back to Reo.

The rest of the night goes mostly like that, actually. People are curious about you– watching you with a mix of jealousy, judgment and disdain in their eyes– before marking you off as a non-threat and turning back to Reo. It’s exhausting, frankly. How does he deal with it? You’re no chump when it comes to social situations, but this is on a different level. All the fake smiles, the pointed lines, the constant appraising. It’s like being under an endless spotlight; everyone is waiting for you to slip up, just once, to tear you down.

When you glance at Reo, his eyes are distant again, just like they were at that first party. It’s not the Reo you’ve come to know, the Reo who teased you at the picnic and talked about his dreams.

“Cheer up, boyfriend,” you whisper in his ear, resting your hands on his shoulder to speak solely to him. “I think they’re serving shrimp tonight.”

“Oh, your favorite. This time, you don’t need to hide in a hallway to eat them,” Reo whispers back, the ice in his face cracking to reveal a genuine smile. “Let’s go get some.”

After waving off his admirers, the two of you head to the buffet, where you immediately pick up a plate and begin piling up food. Reo wanders off to grab the two of you some drinks.

“Hah? It’s you. They really just let anyone in,” you hear a sneer when you’re halfway through picking up a little chocolate pastry. You glance up, to see a man with slicked back, bleached hair glowering at you, disturbing your little food paradise. Hm? He looks somewhat familiar.

“Who’re you?” you ask, plopping the first pastry on your plate, and grabbing a second pastry just to be safe. Maybe Reo will want one.

“You really don’t remember?” he hisses.

“Huh?”

“You stepped on my foot at a party!” he whispers furiously. 

“You were being rude,” you say tartly. That’s enough food. You try to step past him, but Takei jostles you with his shoulder, forcing you back in front of him. 

“You were just a server. How the hell did you get in here?”

What the hell? Did Takei think he’s all that, with his self-satisfied smirk and crossed arms?

“I’m on a date, actually,” you say pleasantly. “I was invited here.”

“Hah? Who would be crazy enough to invite you? If you’re lying, then I’m going to get you kicked out of here, just you–”

“Hi, Reo!” you say loudly, cutting Takei off, waving at Reo, who, with perfect timing, has shown up with two sparkling peach-colored drinks in hand.

“Hm? Takei-san, when did you get here?” Reo says.

“Ah– Mikage-san–” Takei’s face pales as he looks from you to Reo, and back to you. “Is… is this person… your date…?”

“Yes,” Reo says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. 

You bat your eyelashes at Takei, who looks like he wants to melt into the floor. For good measure, you turn to Reo with a fake little pout. “Reo, I think Takei-san was just saying something about only someone crazy would invite me here. How funny, don’t you think?”

“Very funny,” Reo says coolly. “But I think it’d be best not to make jokes like that about my date, don’t you think, Takei-san?”

“Right– of course– my apologies, Mikage-san,” Takei stammers. “I, ah, I would never think of… I won’t do it again.”

You pluck one of the pastries off your plate and offer it to Takei, who takes it with a twitching eye. “Enjoy the party, Takei-san,” you say in a syrupy sweet voice, watching as Takei stumbles off.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you elbow Reo. “Nicely done, boyfriend,” you say.

“Takei has always been like that, but you shouldn’t have to put up with it,” Reo says. “Did he bother you?”

“Not too much!”

“I see.” Reo hands you a drink, but there’s a tiny frown twisting at the corners of his mouth as he watches Takei go.

There’s no more incidents after that, thankfully, but there’s a pensive look on Reo’s face that he can’t quite wipe off. What is he thinking? Should you ask? It’s not until the limo pulls up that Reo finally speaks to you.

“I’m sorry Takei was rude to you,” he says.

“It’s okay! It’s not your fault. Unless… you hired him to get on my nerves?” you tease, gravel crunching underfoot.

Reo looks uncharacteristically chagrined as he helps you into the car. “Why would I do that? Still, I put you in that situation, so… what can I do for you as an apology?”

You pretend to purse your lips in thought, tapping your finger against your chin. It’s cute how seriously he takes everything. “Well, Reo, have you ever heard of a little thing called grocery shopping?”

His eyebrows float upwards. “I’m not that out of touch. I do know what grocery shopping is. Do you think I was raised in an ivory tower?”

You grin. “Oh, we’ll see about that, Reo. Come pick me up on Saturday. 9am. Be sure to dress casually.”

—

Just as promised, Reo shows up outside your house at 9am sharp, dressed in a casual button up rolled up to his elbows and pressed slacks. He’s even smart enough to replace the usual limo with a more middle-class car, though it’s as sleek and polished as if it was bought fresh off the lot… which, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe it was. 

You snort as you size Reo up, flicking a glance up and down. You’re dressed much more casually, in shorts and flip-flops, and the tote bag you always bring to hold your groceries. “Slacks, Reo? Really?”

He holds up his hands in defense, a golden watch gleaming on his wrist. “What? You said dress casual. So I did.”

You roll your eyes, and when Reo opens the car door for you, you shut it. “That’s like business casual at best. You don’t have jeans? Sweats? You look like you’re taking a break from an office job.”

“Hey. I can’t help it if my standards are higher than other people.” Reo puts his hands in his pockets as you stride confidently down the pavement, and he falls into step beside you. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you grocery shopping,” you say expertly.

“... And you don’t want to drive there?”

“Most people do not drive the car to get groceries, rich boy. There’s a little thing called public transportation, you know. You’re going to learn to do it the old-fashioned pedestrian way.”

“Rich boy…” he mutters. “Can’t you just call me by my name? We are technically dating, you know?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Exactly. We’re technically dating, so I’m just giving you an affectionate nickname.”

At this, he laughs ruefully. “Affectionate, huh?”

Maybe you’ve been a little too mean to him. You are fond of Reo, even if he makes it a little too easy to tease him. At the next opportunity, you casually loop your arm around his. Reo falters, but doesn’t break step, before pulling you closer. He smells pleasant, a warm citrusy scent, and he’s careful to match his pace to yours so neither of you pull too far ahead or behind. 

Without turning to him, you say, “I am affectionate, you know. I know how to spoil my boyfriend.”

“Really, now? Looks like I lucked out by asking you out.” There’s a genuine warmth in Reo’s voice that spills a sunset in your chest. It’s almost like he really likes you, and you’re really dating— but the contract. Don’t forget. You can’t let yourself get too carried away. This is a business deal, nothing more. Also, he would be so obnoxious if he knew how much his words affected you, considering all the crap you said about him not being your type. Still, the traitorous glow in your heart doesn’t go away, no matter how much you try to clamp down and extinguish it.

The market is surprisingly crowded when the two of you arrive. You pick up a basket as Reo stands at the entrance, drinking in the rows of cardboard boxes and tin containers and fresh produce, the housewives strolling down the aisles with children in their carts, the scuffed floor and the gleaming lights.

“We don’t have all day,” you tease. “Come on, Reo. Are you scared?”

“I’m not. It’s just… different,” he says. His eyes are still roaming the store, and you loop your arm around his again. Reo lets you pull him along without stumbling a step.

“It’s better to experience it in person,” you affirm, dragging him to the vegetables. “Help me pick some out.”

Reo’s hands hover a row of brown yams, dirt still clinging to their fuzzy roots. He picks one up for you, and you place a hand on his wrist. “What? Is it not good enough?” he asks.

“You need to put them in a plastic bag first,” you say, pointing to a dispenser roll at the end of the aisle. “You can’t just put the vegetables in the basket!”

Reo sighs in a long suffering way, but leaves and returns with a plastic bag, which you shake open and he drops several yams in, after careful consideration of their size and form.

“Good job, Reo,” you cheer. 

“What can I say? I’m a natural,” he says smugly, and you bump him with your hip.

Reo follows you around the grocery store, shadowing your steps like a baby chick. You choose several more vegetables, before moving to the meat aisle and examining the frozen, plastic wrapped cuts. Reo peers over your shoulder as you point at the different cuts of meat, so close that you can feel his warmth despite the chill of the coolers, his breath brushing your cheek every time he talks.

“Which one do you want?” you ask. Normally, you wouldn’t find his closeness a big deal. You’re used to skinship with your friends and family, and Reo is your boyfriend, albeit in name only. But something about his presence makes you feel hyper-aware of his every move. Not that you could ever let him know that.

“What do you think is best?” he muses.

“You can choose,” you say.

“What about that one?” Reo points to a hunk of pork, and you drop it into your basket. 

“Sounds good,” you say, quickly moving away from the frozen meat, but the memory of Reo’s warmth isn’t as easy to shake off.

You skim through the aisles of dry goods, picking up items that you remember were running low in your kitchen pantry. Reo follows, and he pauses in front of a row of glass bottles.

“There are so many different brands of soy sauce,” he says. “The chef usually just gets the highest quality brand.”

“Show-off,” you say. 

“Hey! I’ll send you some, too!”

It’s not until you’re in front of the snacks that you stop, and spread your arms, as if presenting the rarest of delicacies. “All right, Reo. In exchange for your cooperation for today, you can choose one snack.”

“One snack,” he repeats.

“Yup! That’s what my mom used to say when we went grocery shopping. So I’m extending the honor to you. I’ll pay for anything you choose,” you emphasize. “So choose wisely!”

Reo’s hand skims over the row of snack boxes. “Which one would you recommend?”

“The chocolate mushrooms,” you say immediately. “I got them all the time as a kid, and my sister and I used to fight over who got to eat them, since our mom wouldn’t buy more than one box.”

Reo neatly slides out a yellow box with dancing chocolate mushrooms. “Then this is the one I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“My partner recommended them,” he says primly. “Why not?”

It’s only until you’ve paid for everything, stringing plastic bags alongside your arms (Reo valiantly offers to take a few after failing to persuade you to let him pay for the groceries with his card), that you can slide out Reo’s snack and proffer it to him.

“Thank you, my lovely assistant,” you say, “For braving the perils of the grocery store for me.”

“It was fun. I’ll come with you again, if you want.” He rips open the box, then offers it to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Take some.”

“But it’s your reward,” you protest.

Reo snorts, then shakes out a single chocolate mushroom onto his palm, pinching the biscuit stem between his forefinger and thumb, holding it in front of your mouth. “It’s my reward, so I can do whatever I want with it. And I want to give some to you.”

Without hesitation, you open your mouth, and Reo throws the mushroom in. A familiar chocolatey flavor spreads inside your mouth. Somehow, it tastes sweeter than it usually does.

—

Over the next few weeks, you and Reo settle into a comfortable rhythm. He comes to pick you up every evening, though your brother still has a habit of pressing his face to the living room window to ogle Reo’s various cars. Most of the time, your job at parties is just standing by Reo’s side, occasionally intercepting when someone asks him an uncomfortable question and pulling him away. People tend to ignore you, too, treating you as Reo’s tagalong– which, to be fair, you are. Still, any insults are soothed over by the delicious food you pile up high on your plate, though Reo will steal a bite or two if you’re not careful, despite you pestering him to grab his own plate.

Sometimes, you and Reo exchange glances out of the corner of your eye when someone says something particularly weird. It’s startling how fast you’ve learned to read him and pick up on every little change in his expression. He’s emotional and expressive, and though he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, his moods are still easy to read. He’s a little petty, sometimes, and he holds an assured view of his own success. But he’s easy to tease. You like him, a lot more than you want to admit.

However, one particular party in August shatters the routine you and Reo have set.

For one, this party is held in a mansion, a multitiered decadent cake of a building, with famous paintings and expensive statues dripping from every corner. Hell, the guest list is more famous than you’re used to: celebrity actors and prestigious families from old money, and bodyguards hovering at every angle. Even you can feel the oppressive atmosphere, as much as you try to joke it away.

“Be right back,” Reo says, sighing. He flicks his head at an old man trying to catch his gaze. “One of my father’s board associates.”

“Make sure to bring me a plate of food,” you tease.

“Right. Otherwise, you might go so hungry you’ll start nibbling on me.”

You glower at him, and Reo sticks out his tongue at you, before a professional expression rolls down his face, like a shutter slamming closed.

You don’t have much time to spend alone, though. Because just as Reo steps away, a couple draws closer to you, clad with matching crimson jewelry, and with a posture so uptight and rigid you wonder if they would topple to the floor if someone were to bump into them. It’s uncanny timing, as if they were waiting for Reo to leave, but you smile politely.

Neither attempt to smile back at you. The couple’s eyes gleam like the sheen of a shark’s. Ah. They’re looking for trouble. There’s nothing to protect you from their sharp toothed smiles and narrowed gazes. Reo has vanished out of sight, and no one else seems particularly interested in your predicament. 

“So, you’re Mikage-san’s date?” the woman asks politely. “How… quaint.”

“Yes,” the man butts in. “He rarely brings anyone to dinner with him, in all the time we’ve known him, and his parents.”

“My endless charm must have captivated him,” you joke, but the couple only raises their eyebrows.

“Hm. Well, it’s just strange that he would take a liking to… you,” the woman sniffs. “What family are you from?”

“I… My family? Well, I don’t think you would have heard of them.”

“I see,” the man says, with enough disdain that it shreds your bravado to pieces. “I’m not surprised you approached Mikage-san, then. Flies are always attracted to honey, eh? What I’m curious about is how on earth you managed to sink your hooks into him.”

“My hooks?” you say. “Well, no hooks were involved. We just hit it off, and–”

“No need to lie,” the woman intones. “It’s quite unbecoming, though I understand that people of your class can’t help themselves. No manners. No grace. To think Mikage-san would pass up an engagement with our child to chase after… you.”

“Ma’am, I think there must be some kind of mistake,” you begin, but then falter. They were still watching you with keen interest, and your chest tightens. They want you to slip up so they could twist whatever you say and humiliate you, like cats toying with a mouse. 

More than that, whatever you say could be used against Reo. What was their relationship with him? It sounds like they’ve known him for a long time. Were they people he couldn’t risk offending? These people aren’t like Takei, a bumbling man trying to suck up to people wealthier than him. You could snark back, consequences be damned, but what if that hurt Reo somehow?

“What mistake are we making?” the woman prompts. “Do tell me.”

You select your words delicately, like you’re stringing pearls along a necklace. “Mikage Reo is a wonderful person. He’s a partner far better than I deserve, and I know this. And he’s cleverer than you give him credit for. I don’t think he would fall for cheap tricks or flirtations. No matter who I am, or what you think of me, I would like it if you didn’t imply that Mikage Reo is any less than what he is.”

The couple pales suddenly. Did your speech have such an effect on them? But a hand lands on your shoulder, and Reo’s voice echoes from behind you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I need to discuss something with my date.”

“Of course, Mikage-san,” the man stammers, all of his previous aggression gone. “By all means.”

There’s an uncharacteristically tight set to Reo’s jaw as he guides you to a balcony, arm pressed protectively around your waist. It’s not until there’s a layer of glass doors and gauzy curtains between you two and the rest of the party that he whirls around, eyes turbulent. His arm hasn’t moved an inch from your side.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he grits out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Oh, you know. I love when people are rude to me.”

“Stop joking around,” Reo says softly. “I’m serious, okay? You just– You could have said something! You’re my date. No one would… I could have said something. If you wanted me to.”

You let out a long sigh. Reo’s arm is still wrapped around your waist, and you impatiently shrug it off. Reo stares at the spot where his arm had once rested, as if not being able to touch you is the worst thing in the world. The fact that he’s sad for your sake– for you, his partner, his fake partner– makes you upset in ways you can’t begin to articulate. It was fine before. It was fun before, to mess around, to play in a world that isn’t really yours. Whatever you have isn’t real, so why does he act like it is? You even promised not to fall for each other. He was the one who suggested that clause.

“Are they people I can afford to offend?” you say tartly. “What sort of relationship do you have with them?”

“I would have covered anything you did–” Reo begins, but you shake your head.

“That isn’t the question. Are they people I could offend to afford? Are they people you need a good relationship with?”

Reo turns his head, and you have your answer. 

“I’m not playing the same game as you, Reo,” you say. “This is your world. I’m just a regular person, and I don’t have family or connections or wealth to protect me. All I have is you, and conversely, anything I do can be reflected back on you. If I act out, then they would use me as an excuse to talk badly about you. I didn’t… want that.”

“So it was because of me?” Reo whispers. “ That you had put up with all of that?”

“I didn’t do it just for you,” you say hastily, “So don’t feel bad, okay? I was also looking out for myself, too. Come on, Reo, don’t make that face–” But before you can crack a joke to lighten the atmosphere, Reo pulls you into his arms.

For a few seconds, all you’re aware of is his cologne, some sort of calm, gentle fragrance, and his arms pressed tightly around you, as if he could shelter you from the world by pulling you as close to his body as he could. His hands, resting assuredly on your back. His chin, dipping into the crook of your shoulder. “Wh– What are you trying to pull, Reo?” you squeak, all witty comebacks and jokes fleeing from your head at his touch.

Reo pulls back, just enough so you can see his face, but his hands are still on your shoulders. And– Reo, confident, clever, level-headed Reo– doesn’t look like a self-assured CEO heir or your usual partner in crime. He looks exhausted. Sad. In a way that someone as beautiful as Reo should never look. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t apologize,” you say gently. You lightly tap his chest with your fist. “Come on. You didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who insulted me, right?”

“No, I am in the wrong,” Reo says, and before you can move your hand away, Reo cups his hand over your fist, keeping it trapped against his chest. “I thought I could protect you, but that wasn’t what happened. You were the one protecting me.”

“Don’t be so self-deprecating. You’ve helped me a lot,” you scold. “Mikage Reo, we’re partners.”

“Right. Right, partners. We’re partners.” His lips curve into a smile, like the first rays of dawn breaking over the horizon. Reo is so unfairly beautiful, and why does he look especially beautiful when he’s looking at you? 

This is dangerous territory. The world is shifting beneath your feet, and you don’t know if you’ll like where you’ll end up when it stops moving. You open your mouth and hastily add, “Because of the contract, you know? We made a promise.” 

“The contract. Off course. We did make an agreement,” Reo says, but the warmth in his smile has burnt out, and no longer reaches his eyes.

“Right.” You shiver, and without a word, Reo shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it across your shoulders. “Reo, you don’t have to…”

“It’s chilly during the summer,” Reo says simply. “I can’t have my… partner getting a cold. Let’s just call it a night.”

You crumple the silky fabric of his suit. It’s still warm from Reo’s body heat. “But the party–”

“Forget about it. You’ve already done your part. Just get some rest, okay? I’ll send you home.”

Reo ushers you through the party, warding off guests with a perfectly placed “my partner isn’t feeling well” and a pleasant smile– his business smile, nothing like the ones he shows you– and then you’re in Reo’s limousine. The two of you are silent on the way back. The streetlight flashes stripes of golden light across his face, but you still can’t tell what he’s thinking. For your part, outside of these quick glances at Reo, you stare out the window, at the lights of the city smearing across the glass.

When you stop by your house, it’s Reo who runs over to hold open your door and to offer you his hand as you step out. His hand lingers for a second longer than it has to before he pulls away.

“Have a good night,” Reo says.

“You, too. Wait, don’t you need your jacket back?” you ask, as Reo turns to go.

“No. You look nice in it. Just give it back to me next time.”

You open your mouth to make a joke about footing the bill, and how you don’t think you could afford the cleaning fees for his name brand clothing– but something in Reo’s gaze makes you bite your tongue. Instead, you wave. The last glance you have of Reo is of his silhouette, leaning against the car door, carefully watching you enter your house before he gets into his car and drives away.

—

For the next week, you keep staring at your phone, waiting for it to buzz. But there’s nothing but radio silence from Reo.

You’ve never felt more restless. Why hasn’t he called you? What do you do? Should you contact him first? Was he mad at you? He was definitely mad at you. You hurt him somehow, with your big mouth. But what were you to each other, really? Strangers? Not really. Friends, maybe. A couple? Definitely not. Somehow, your relationship has slipped out of the neat boundaries you’ve set at the beginning of the summer. It’s uncontainable, something formless and vague, neat labels sliding neatly off of it. 

This was supposed to be a relationship of convenience, just a summer fling at most. Two strangers, helping each other out. There was a clear expiration date. Did you have any right to push him? To call him? To mend this? 

You just wanted to have fun. Fun wasn’t supposed to come back and bite you in the ass like this. Fun wasn’t supposed to lead to either of you getting hurt. Fun wasn’t supposed to be Reo looking at you like that, like he… cared about you, more than he had to. It was supposed to be easy. Why wasn’t it easy?

He was the one who said that you weren’t his type. To be fair, he wasn’t really your type either. He wasn’t, but… his smile. His teasing words. His hug, tight and desperate, as if he never wanted to let you go. You said you weren’t going to fall for each other. You weren’t supposed to. You aren’t supposed to like him, not in this way. It was even in the stupid contract.

You pace around the living room, thoughts spiraling unendingly in your head, wearing a hole in the carpet as your siblings stare at you, unimpressed. 

“Can you stop? I’m getting dizzy,” your brother complains.

Your sister slaps him on the arm. “Stop it. Their boy toy ghosted them, so now they’re sad. Let them mourn.”

“Eh? How’s that my business? Just call him, dork,” your brother commands. “Or show up at his house with flowers or something. Just stop moping.”

“You are so tactless. What the hell is–”

You skirt out of the living room, your siblings’ voices trailing behind you as they bicker. It’s not as if Reo needs to text you. It’s not a big deal. He could just be busy. It’s not as if you’re really his partner or something. You’re just– some person he hired for the summer. That’s all your relationship is. You can’t get disappointed now, not when you drew the line in the sand first.

You sigh, falling into a crouch, staring morosely at your phone screen– before it lights up with an incoming call, and you press answer so fast there’s no time for the ringtone to go off.

“Reo?” you breathe. 

“Hi.”

“I thought you were dead! Why didn’t you call me? Or text? I mean, I know you’re busy as a corporate heir, but–”

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Are you free right now?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Can you come outside?”

“Uh, yeah. But why didn’t you just text me if you were coming to visit?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.” A pause. “Just forget I said that, okay? See you soon.”

Your heart pounds as you stare at the disconnected call, before you dash up the stairs to check your appearance in the mirror and maybe change to a cuter outfit. A few seconds later, you’re out the door, shoes still half on, and sprinting right into Reo, his car pulled right up to the curb.

“What’s up? Is there a party you want to talk about?” you say, breathless.

Reo opens his mouth, closes it, and then fumbles for the handle of the car door. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” he says, avoiding your eyes.

“Sure,” you say easily. You can sense more than see your brother and sister pressing nosily against the window. No doubt they’d pester you about what was going on when you got home.

The car ride is tense. Reo doesn’t talk to you, and instead stares outside the window the whole time. Is he steeling himself up for something? He glances at you occasionally, then glances away. You circle the same block twice before you impatiently ask the driver to simply drop you off at a random street. 

The heat is like a heavy blanket over the city, the perfect embodiment of summer. Somehow, you end up in a nice little plaza. There’s a fountain gurgling behind you, and children playing in the shade under the trees. People stream by, and it’s only you and Reo who are frozen in place.

“What is it that you called me for?” you say. 

“What?”

“You have something to say, right?”

Reo looks uneasily out at the sea of people under the blistering sun. “Let’s end our contract,” he says quietly.

You must have misheard. The heat is warping the air in front of your eyes. “Why? There’s still a few weeks left, right?”

“I’m terminating it early.”

“You can’t decide that on your own,” you say indignantly, but your hands are clammy. Your voice comes out reedy and thin, even to your own ears. 

“It was going to end eventually. Ending it a few weeks early is no big deal,” he says curtly.

“Why now, though? Is it because of what happened at the last party?” you break in. “That’s no big deal. I can handle people like that.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he snaps.

“Huh?”

Reo runs a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t have to put up with people like that.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do,” he says. “I don’t like– I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“But–!”

“And you’re just doing this for fun, right? It’s not like you have to go with me. If it stops being fun… if it starts making more trouble for you than what it’s worth… you should just leave. It’s like you said,” he says. “This is a contractual relationship.”

What can you say? You and Reo are just… what, exactly? Strangers in a business relationship? Friends, who only came together out of a twisted coincidence? He wasn’t your real boyfriend. You were just acting in a play, and at some point, the curtains had to fall.

“I won’t bother you with something like this again. Just… consider our agreement over, okay? You don’t have to pretend to be my partner anymore.”

He turns, and overwhelming desperation seizes you. If you let him go now, something will change forever, and you’ll never see him again. You’re certain of it. Reo is doing this out of consideration for you. It’s a kindness on his part, but you hate it. You hate it so much you can barely breathe. 

“Wait!” He stops. All you can see is his back. What can you say? What sort of joke, or clever remark? What easy thing can repair your relationship? Nothing comes to mind. There’s nothing left, nothing but the truth.  “I… I like being with you, Reo. I know I said I want to do whatever is fun, but… the most fun I’ve ever had is by your side. So don’t just… don’t just say it’s over. Was it not fun for you?”

You take a step closer towards him. He doesn’t back away. Another step. All you can hear is the gurgling of the fountain now, and all you can see is Reo. Reo, as beautiful as the sun.

His ears are red. Reo finally turns towards you, averting his gaze from yours, his hand covering his mouth.  “Of course I like being with you. I just can’t be your fake boyfriend. I can’t do that anymore. I’ve already broken the contract. I… About you, I…”

Call it fate, or a coincidence. But at that moment, a passerby bumps into you, causing you to stumble. You yelp, your knees hitting the edge of the fountain, and Reo, alarmed, tries to grab you– you only manage to grasp his arm before you tumble over. Reo goes down with you. A wave of water splashes over the fountain as you flail, you and Reo fumbling for purchase. The two of you end up more soaked with every attempt to straighten yourselves, and it’s all just so ridiculous. 

Laughter bubbles up out of you, and you can’t stop, even though everyone is staring at the two of you. You’re drenched, water streaming down your face, dripping from your clothes. Maybe this is what your hoodie feels like when you run it through the washing machine.

Reo lies beneath you in a pool of fountain water, your arms on either side of his torso. You’re sheltered in the circle of his open legs. His hair is plastered to his face, his expensive cotton shirt clinging to his body, and you carefully tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, but it’s all in vain.

“I can’t believe this,” you snicker. “Imagine the headlines. Mikage heir, found diving in a Tokyo fountain!”

“Oh, shut it,” he mutters, but you only laugh harder.

Suddenly, his hand cups your face, a tentative gesture. His thumb is so close to your lips. If he moves an inch, he’d brush them. Your laugh quiets. “What’s wrong, Reo?” you say, but your heart is pounding like a flock of birds lifting up in flight.

“You’re beautiful,” he says simply, as if it’s the only truth in the world. “Tell me if you don’t want this.” He’s face to face with you now, and you’re acutely aware of the way his gaze lingers on your lips. “Tell me if you don’t want me. Push me away right now.”

Oh, to hell with it. You lean forward and crash your lips onto his, urgently gripping his face with both your hands. It’s a terrible first kiss. There’s the taste of rusty water, and he’s slack at first, awkward, as you try to move against his lips. But then Reo circles his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, and now he’s kissing you back. He breaks apart only to connect again, desperate as if this is his one and only chance. Like stars colliding, all you can think of is this. Of him. Of the summer heat, lingering even when you part.

“Reo. I like you,” you say, simply. “I want to date you. For real, this time. No contracts, or anything. Even though I’m not your type, apparently.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Forget about my type, or the contract. I don’t care anymore. I like you, too. I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“If you liked me, then why did you ignore me for a week?” you say indignantly.

“I was… I was nervous, okay? I mean, you shouldn’t have said our relationship was just a contract! I thought you didn’t like me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Both of us messed up, huh?” you ask. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Yeah, I can think of a few ways,” Reo mumbles.

He leans forward to kiss you again, and– “Hey! What are you kids doing in that fountain?! That’s public property!” A policeman yells.

Oh, shit. You totally forgot you were still in public, in the middle of a fountain. But there’s no time to think. Reo grabs your hand, and the two of you scramble up, splashing water everywhere as you jump out of the fountain and run down the streets. Everyone is staring at you, but who cares? Summer is almost over, and you deserve to have some fun with your boyfriend.

#liya writes #blue lock #mikage reo #reo mikage #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #blue lock reo #bllk #x reader #bllk x reader #3rd entry for my bllk seasonal shoujo fic!! #longest one ive ever posted. reo im going to kill u for making me write so much

[prince-kallisto]

Ghost Camera: The Connection between Dreams & Reality

I cannot stop thinking about how strange the Ghost Camera is as a concept, and the very little lore we get about it is so fascinating. It’s to the point I have several posts planned to talk about it haha! I’ve begun watching the EN translation of Book 7, and I completely forgot that Yuu was able to take a Ghost Camera photograph of Mickey. I have a feeling that this photograph will play a role later in the story, because Ortho begins to establish a connection with Mickey, the mirror, and different worlds.

We see Mickey through a mirror, which only happens when Mickey is asleep and dreaming. Ortho claims that the mirror in Ramshackle may be an accidental Viewglass, where you can communicate with a person from far distances. The reason why I think this it’s because the mirror seems to be connecting to a dream realm, NOT in Mickey’s reality. It technically is haha, because the style of his room is reminiscent of the classic Mickey cartoons. But it’s still his dream, so Mickey’s corporeal body is sleeping. We know this because Mickey quite literally begins to vanish when he wakes up in his own “real world.” The properties of the Ramshackle mirror are very special, but that’s for another day (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

So if Yuu managed to get a photograph of Mickey with the Ghost Camera, which explicitly captures people’s souls as well, this means that Mickey’s soul is what travels to this dream realm as he sleeps.

Of course, this is all very wishy-washy haha, but it’s a basic foundation to the idea I want to elaborate on: The fact that the Ghost Camera could be the connector between not only worlds, but dreams and reality.

Magic is definitely a bit unreliable when it comes to theory making, but it’s significant that Book 7 is heavily building up magic and lore revolving dreams, and Silver with a Unique Magic like “Meet in a Dream.” If the Ghost Camera can capture the soul of a being, whose from another realm, and is DREAMING, this could be huge! We don’t know the extent of the Ghost Camera’s powers, as there’s a lot about its history that Crowley is hiding from us. The Ghost Camera was around since before the age of video, but it seems like not many functioning Ghost Camera’s are left.

Ortho remarks that the previous owner of such an old camera must have taken great care of it to be in such a good condition- the previous owner being Crowley. This is true, because if Crowley’s claims of the Ghost Camera being invented when Ace’s great great grandmother was a child, this camera is in a perfectly functional condition at LEAST for 100 years, if not far more, like 150 years. Considering how small the camera is, this is very impressive that all the mechanisms and lenses have been maintained for this long, and can still print pictures perfectly in full color. Of course, it’s enchanted with magic, but it’s notable the camera existed before video.

Crowley himself states that the camera is enchanted with special magic to make the soul photography possible- but isn’t it also possible that Crowley could’ve added another property to the camera? He’s so adamant about Yuu capturing everyone’s lives, to be left behind as “Memories: Fragments of Remembrance.” The students, their behaviors, building soulbonds/friendships, the school…everything has to be captured with this camera that HE gave himself. There has to be something that he’s planning with the souls captured by the Ghost Camera, which then must connection with how the school is destroyed in the endgame.

The novel also brings up the idea that everything was an “illusion.” Of course, it could just be Yuuya lamenting on the tragedy and horror of the destruction of the school and potentially lives, but magic is also a thing, making this potentially literal. The Ghost Camera can replay events that happened in the photographs, with the people in the photographs taking a corporeal form outside the photo. These forms aren’t “real,” so they could count as an illusion.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this haha, I feel like I have all these pieces but I can’t articulate how they fit together. It’s hard to predict just what Crowley’s plans are, no matter how hard I try haha! But again, Crowley having possession of an item that can capture a person in their dreams…(Don’t make this about Meleanor and Crowley, don’t make this about Meleanor and Crowley-)

Hey what would happen if Meleanor was photographed with the Ghost Camera 🤪🤪🤪 Could she be brought to “life” through the photos 🤪🤪🤪

Jokes aside, I think the “soul,” “dreams and reality,” and “imagination” will become a key parts of Book 8, and I feel like through Book 6 and Book 7, TWST has been elaborating so much more about the extent of the power of dreams, and the properties of a soul and a heart. And with the set up for connection between worlds, the Ghost Camera could potentially have the ability to bring these characters and concepts into the world of Twisted Wonderland, or at least reconstruct the Twisted Wonderland boys and certain events, by playing out the events in the photographs over and over again.

What’s even more interesting is that I recently made an analysis post, based on the theory that the Major Arcana tarot cards connect to each character via that countdown art.

Crowley’s tarot card, since his countdown number is “1,” is the Magician. Feel free to read that analysis post if you want more in depth analysis! But what’s interesting is how the Magician is explicitly designed to the connector between a world above, and world below. It’s most commonly seen as the “unification of the physical and spiritual worlds.” And isn’t this interesting if this tarot card theory is intentional? That Crowley, the man who speaks of imagination being the key to magic, who gave Yuu the Ghost Camera, who put Yuu in Ramshackle Dorm to live in…he and the Ghost Camera truly may be the connector to worlds and realities far beyond Twisted Wonderland. I will definitely be elaborating soon on the potential of this idea with Crowley 👀🐦‍⬛

#BACK ON THE GRIND FINALLY!!! #I feel like I suddenly got hit with so much inspiration at once haha! #I’m happy to be theorizing again #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst Crowley #twst ghost camera #twst Mickey #kallistopost

[irkimatsu]

Hiii. Soooo...Husk's crush using a pick-up line on him

Fem!reader knows he likes magic, so figures what would be the best one to use

"You must be a really good magician...because when I look at you, everyone else disappears 😘👉👉

Oh this one was adorable to write. <3 SFW little drabble of Husk showing Reader a magic trick!

---

“Would you mind showing me a trick?”

“Huh? You really wanna see?”

It didn’t surprise you when Husk told you he loved stage magic and used to perform when he was alive; the top hat and tuxedo pattern gave him away from day one, really. What did surprise you was that he had anything he could speak so wistfully about. You’ve only been here for a couple weeks, but you figured early on that the binge drinking had killed every positive emotion Husk had left.

But then you two got onto the subject of what your lives on Earth were like, and his face brightened despite himself as he talked about his days touring the United States with his shows, and how his dream was to be able to perform overseas. He shut down pretty quickly after he realized he was showing a soft spot around a relative stranger, but you’d already seen enough of that soft spot to know you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

And what better way to bring it out than to indulge the thing he was most proud of?

“Of course I wanna see!” you say. “I never really got to see stage magic when I was a kid, but it always sounded really interesting!”

“Well, okay,” he says, smiling just a little. “But don’t think I’m gonna reveal the secret behind the trick, just like that. Let me just…” He pats around a bit on his slacks, before pulling a deck of cards out from his pocket. “There we go.”

Does he carry those around all the time? You successfully stop yourself from laughing, knowing that if you do he’ll never talk to you again.

He pulls the deck out of the case and shuffles the cards, flipping them from paw to paw in elaborate patterns. Despite his claim that he hasn’t done this in a long time, it seems so second nature to him.

“All right,” he says as he fans the cards out in front of you. “Pick one, but don’t tell me what it is.”

You pull out the card and take a look at it. It’s an eight of spades.

“Once you remember it, put it back in the deck.”

You follow his instructions, and he starts shuffling again.

“Now, it’s been a while,” he says as he nimbly flips and juggles the cards from paw to paw. “I’m pretty sure I got this, but- whoa!” He fumbles and drops the deck, and all fifty-two cards go flying across the floor behind the bar.

“Husk!” You immediately leap to your feet and move behind the bar. “Do you need help?”

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice utterly defeated. “Damn it, I really thought I had it…” The brightness has drained from his face, and you can barely stand to see it.

“It’s okay! Like you said, you’re out of practice!” you say as you help him gather cards. “You just need to get used to it again!”

“Yeah, yeah…” he grumbles, not really listening. “Looks like a card got stuck under the bar… mind pulling it out for me?”

You slip your fingers beneath the bar and easily slide the face-down card out from underneath it. As you pick it up, you notice the number and suite on the card face.

Eight of spades.

Husk is wearing the smuggest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

“...wow,” is all you can say, in genuine awe.

“Still got it, huh?” he says, beaming with pride, as he pushes himself back up to his feet. You hand him the card, and he shuffles it back into the stack he’s holding.

“That was amazing,” you say. “I’d love to see more tricks from you some time.”

“Glad you enjoyed it!” he said, glowing with a genuine happiness you weren’t sure he could feel anymore. He seems taken aback by the sudden emotion himself. He hums to himself as he shuffles the deck again, more as an excuse to show off his handiwork than anything else.

“You know, I should have known you were a magician,” you say as you take your seat at the bar.

“Yeah? What gave it away, the top hat?”

“There’s that… and there’s your disappearing act.”

His cheerful face turns confused as he raises an eyebrow. “Disappearing act?”

“Yeah. Whenever you talk to me, you make everyone else in the hotel disappear.”

“What-” Your meaning dawns on him, and he barks out a laugh. “How much have you been drinking?”

“You should know, you’re the one mixing them!” you shoot back.

“Heh… you’re cute, I’ll admit it.” He stops shuffling the cards and taps them on the bar to line them up again. “Here, I’ll show you another one. Think of a number from 1 to 13…”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

[one-squash-one-end]

An unhinged recap of Ronan's homosexuality

Hi! This once again belongs to my big Raven Cycle analysis, click here for the masterpost.

Again, there's not much room for speculation here, but i had to write it for completionist purposes. I apologize for certain metaphores used, for the most part when I was writing this I was going through it (brain was fried).

Here u go (also spoilers for Greywaren)

d) Ronan Lynch

Next to Adam, Ronan is the only other canonically queer person in the Gangsey. A flaming homosexual with a car fetish (because there was something unbelievably sexy about cars at night). Ronan is the original Be Gay, Do Crime. (Adam is the Be Crime, Do Gay to that.)

You get the gist; he is seriously involved with one guy but used to have some bits of self discovery (not only on the topic of his sexuality) with another, which ended because that guy kidnapped his brother because despite being gay, Ronan unbelievably was not into him. I’m sorry, I really do not want to dissect the entirety of Pynch in here, that would go way too far and I bet there are so many people who could do and have done this better than I ever could, so I’ll stick to elaborating some more on how we find out that he is gay, considering I think he doesn’t say the word until Call Down The Hawk.

In the first book, Ronan does not get a pov, maybe because Maggie needed some more time to figure out how to make a character subtly and thirst over another character in a secret and homosexual way. Still we get some small hints, based on conversations with other characters, or just his behavior in general.

Gansey: “From now on I need all of us to be straight with one another” Ronan: “I’m always straight” Adam: “oh man that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told” This, of course, is legendary. Ronan is gay, he jokes about it, Adam knows it. I genuinely cannot tell whether Ronan had come out to his friends, whether he just did it through jokes like this etc. If the latter is the case, I honestly doubt that Gansey would have known, as oblivious as he is.

We also have the case study of Declan and his Ashleys. Ronan seems to despise the heterosexual standards that his brother portrays, but it is not clear whether that’s because of heterosexuality, or because of Declan, because let’s be honest, in book one, Ronan would hate, absolutely hate, anyone Declan dates out of principle, because Declan’s just a bitch, or a manwhore, as Gansey would say.

Then it gradually all becomes very much obvious in The Dream Thieves. We got the parallels with religion, his nightmares (his night horrors/self-hate maybe being because of internalized homophobia?) and of course the secrets. The secrets you keep from yourself, the very obvious metaphor. Plus Kavinsky literally calls him the f-slur. You will very easily pick up on that if you’re not as oblivious as I was when I first read the book (I was in my Declan Lynch era with a tummy-ache ok?), but it is explicitly resolved in the epilogue. There is no more room left for ambiguity, thank you Maggie for ending the queer speculation yourself, within the book.

Then there’s gender, of course there’s gender. Gender is like Tad Carruthers, just always materializing out of nowhere, especially when you just want to stay away from it because it’s fake and a massive bitch.

Ronan definitely identifies as male, but if you look at this a certain way he is somehow trans or defies the entire concept of gender either way, considering he is a supernatural being, spirit, entity, that was just socialized as a boy. Ronan is like Cabeswater, or Lindenmere, which both don’t have a gender, obviously, they are forests. The Greywaren is often referred to as an “it”, which makes sense when people don’t know the Greywaren is human, but something about the entire thing smells very trans rights to me. Also that eldritch horror, not quite human at all,  jumble of dark matter thing in Greywaren was just so gender of him.

Ronan would wear a crop top, there’s no doubt to me.

#still sorry about tad carruthers #ronan lynch #adam parrish #the raven cycle #trc #the raven boys #the dream thieves #the raven king #blue lily lily blue #greywaren #greywaren spoilers #the dreamer trilogy

[raventreehall]

no one wants to talk about the theon and littlefinger parallels fine I'LL TALK ABOUT THEM. they're both social inferiors in a foster family that they desperately wanted to join but are prevented from doing so which leads to all sorts of complexes!!!

littlefinger didn't really do anything wrong in seeking out catelyn's hand and dueling brandon, he only misread his importance to the tullys and tried to functionally be part of the family that he had been raised in. but that was not allowed to him because of his low birth, just as theon was always relegated to an outsider role within the stark household because he was a hostage. (also note theon's boyhood dream of marrying sansa and ned accepting him as his son; littlefinger's obsession with catelyn seems to actually have catelyn at its core rather than just being a projection of a desire to be accepted within house tully, but who knows, his obsession with cat could actually be the product of an obsession with house tully and his general ambitions to increase his social status). they both had such intense 'i hate you'/'i want to be you' emotions knocking around in their heads as a result of this that they ended up killing—or trying to convince people that they killed—their foster siblings! (i know there's a lot more complexity with the littlefinger and lysa situation, but i think this parallel is really interesting)

littlefinger also had to work for years in gulltown/king's landing to rise through the ranks, to in a way 'regain his standing' to what it was when he was a ward of hoster tully's. throughout his childhood he was constantly around lysa, catelyn, and edmure—all of whom were destined to become lords and ladies of great houses—and was raised like their brother, but after he is banished he struggles to hold even half the status that his foster siblings enjoy naturally. theon goes through a little bit of a similar rude awakening when he arrives back at pyke expecting his father to hail him as his heir returned only to find out balon could not care less about him and likes asha way more, and he takes winterfell to try to prove to balon and the rest of the ironborn that he should be respected. interestingly, we have seen both theon and littlefinger's homecomings on page and they both come across as complete outsiders in the places were they were born, acting above their station because of the circumstances they got used to during their fostering—while this leads to theon trying to reject the starks and gain acceptance from his birth family in acok, in asos when littlefinger goes home to the fingers he wants to get to the eyrie (and to one of the tullys) as quickly as possible

they share some behaviors/character traits, too. littlefinger is noted to dress well, he pays a lot for clothes made of fine fabrics, while we know that theon likes to do the same. littlefinger certainly does this to prove that he is rich and powerful and has made it, showing that he can pay for the same things that any great lord can, which is probably born from more than a little resentment towards hoster for taking him out of the luxury of riverrun and sending him back home to the fingers. similarly, theon dresses elaborately to set himself apart in winterfell, to impress people, and to make himself known, and again this is born from resentment and insecurity (seen best when he goes back to pyke and stresses about what to wear in front of balon). they're also both arrogant and flippant, with a tendency to smile/make jokes too much, perhaps to try to further resist and disparage the social order they feel restricted by

finally there's catelyn: theon looks to her as a quasi-mother figure while he's in winterfell and littlefinger looks to catelyn as a lover, but both of these are impossible and end up being rejected. there's no evidence that catelyn was, like, especially mean to theon, they seem to get on fine in agot, but he was her husband's hostage and we know that she does mistrust him. this attitude is obviously a result of her not trusting the greyjoys because they're reavers/rose against the crown in open rebellion, but it is also no doubt informed by her previous experiences with petyr! it would make sense for her to be wary of a foster son getting close to her children after what happened to her as a kid

#i'm a littlefinger hater but i actually do have immense sympathy for what he went through as a kid especially the lysa stuff #makes him a lot more complex imo #surprisingly it looks like theon is the one that comes out more well-adjusted in regards to his relationship #with his foster family in adulthood. if it can be believed #i mean at least he's not trying to fuck robb's daughter #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #theon greyjoy #littlefinger #petyr baelish

[starspence]

perfect [spencer reid x reader drabble]

a little spencer drabble bc i was obsessed with thinking abt what it would be like to wake up with him </3 (cw; none! just fluff!) (w.c. - 1k)

masterlist ♡

Dating an FBI agent certainly didn't come without it's challenges. Sometimes it was being woken up at three in the morning to your boyfriend's ringtone, a devastating sound that meant he would need to leave for (more often than not) days at a time. Sometimes it was needing to cooperate with him having a certain secrecy he couldn't share due to procedure, secrets that you'd gotten into arguments about before. The most frustrating challenge of them all was his demanding schedule that took him from your arms for upwards of ten hours, at minimum, five days a week.

Despite it all, you couldn't imagine a more perfect man to love.

All of the roadblocks seemed worth it when you could roll over on a Saturday morning to the face of Spencer Reid sleeping. It made your heart full to see him without devastatingly dark bags beneath his beautifully hazel eyes, to see his light brown curls tousled and splayed out on a silk pillowcase, to see him instinctively reach out in his sleep whenever your body strayed too far away from his.

You liked to let him sleep in. Early on in your relationship, you began unplugging his alarm clock on the weekends so that he could catch up on sleep - he didn't appreciate that very much at first, not liking his extremely well-planned schedule interrupted, but he found out rather quickly how much he savored a lazy morning in the arms of someone he loves.

"Morning Spence," You whisper, laying on your side and bringing a hand to his cheek. Your thumb grazed over his stubble, the soft pricks reminding you that he's real beneath your touch. "Sleep okay?"

His eyes were still closed, but you knew he was awake. He smiled, leaning his head into your hand with a satisfied morning hum. "Mhm." He brought a hand to his eyes and rubbed the tiredness from them, blinking himself back to life. "You?" He asked in that sweet, raspy, tone he held.

"Like a baby." You replied, not letting your hand falter on his face. His eyes finally met yours in a shared loving gaze, one that made everything else in the world feel insignificant.

"You know," He began, eyebrows furrowing a bit, "I never understood why people say that. Babies are quite demanding, even in sleep. Most wake up frequently in the night until the three month mark."

You laughed. "I think people say that because babies don't have to worry about anything when they sleep. They don't have anything to wake up for, anything to lose sleep over... It's just peaceful." You answer. "And being able to sleep with you every night is extremely peaceful."

Spencer presses his lips together in a small, lopsided smile, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink that makes your heart flutter. "I'm glad. You deserve good sleep."

"How about you?" You ask, running your fingers over his cheeks again.

"You already asked that.” He smirked, deciding to elaborate anyways. “You were in my dreams," He began, his smile never fading. "We went to an aquarium. It was nice. So yes, I slept good."

You chuckled in response. "Your dreams make a lot more sense than mine."

He furrowed his brows. "Why? What'd you dream about?"

"I don't remember. All I know is that it was weird, and if I try to recall it and put it into words it'll only make less sense."

"Fair enough." He paused, staring at your face. Conversation halted momentarily, enjoying the comfortable silence shared between the two of you.

"What are you thinking about?" You inquired curiously, trying to study his face. His brows stayed scrunched, the same lopsided smile adorning his beautiful face.

"Just you," He answered honestly. "You're perfect."

"Far from it," You countered, "but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless."

He frowned. "Perfect is entirely subjective," He began, "and to me you're perfect. All of you. Perfect for me."

You stayed silent, letting the words process in your brain. One of the things that worried you from the moment you started dating Spencer was the amount of emotional turmoil that you dragged along with you, the frustrating moments of your past that interrupted even the most simple of tasks. To be called perfect was something you didn't generally hear. In fact, you weren't sure if you'd ever heard your name and 'perfect' in relation to each other.

When you didn't respond, he grew worried. "You alright?"

"Yeah," You quickly affirm. "I just... Don't hear that often."

He moved closer, closing the already short distance between your bodies. "I guess I'll need to keep reminding you, then." He grinned, pressing a kiss to your lips. When you parted, he lingered close to your face, two dorky smiles spreading on your faces.

"Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too."

You didn't mind the shared morning breath coming from your mouths, nor did you mind your pajamas twisted around your body or the bedhead you were scared to face when you looked in the mirror. Right now, you were consumed by Spencer. Anything else didn't matter.

He rolled onto his back and you followed his movements, your head now resting on his chest while your arm hugged his torso. He pressed his lips to your head, his mouth lingering on your hair before resting his cheek in its place. You smiled. Before you began dating, Spencer was never a touchy-feely person. In fact, any kind of physical contact would make him feel wildly uncomfortable; but you remember that turning point like it was yesterday. After a particularly draining day you came home desperately in need of nothing but a cuddle, and when he saw how content you felt in his arms, he never turned back. Since then he took every opportunity he could to hold you, wanting nothing more than to replicate that feeling over and over again. There was something incredibly intimate about being the only person to experience what it felt like to be held lovingly in his arms.

Mornings would always be a safe haven for you. It didn't matter how many times you got to do it, waking up next to the most loving boyfriend in the world, each time felt more and more ethereal than the last.

Spencer was your home, and you were his; and that would never change.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader comfort #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort

[stevesbestgirl]

Dreamweaver

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, a few curses, briefly mean!Morpheus, soulmate tattoo bs, I took liberties with the lore

A/N: I started this forever ago when I was dealing with some stuff with my brother, so if it feels like a self-insert 🤷‍♀️ (no descriptions of reader's appearance)

5775 words

"Dream."

Lord Morpheus, also known as Dream of the Endless, raised his head from his desk, where he was pouring over a book.

"Dream!"

He heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing.

"Dream of the Endless, I hold your sigil and I call to you."

"Yes Death, I am on my way to my gallery as we speak."

"Forget your gallery, come here."

Morpheus suppressed a sigh. But with a sound suspiciously like the flutter of a raven's feathers, Dream disappeared from his library, appearing instead beside his sister. Death's gaze did not waver; she appeared to be watching a young pair seated on a mattress on the floor of a simple bedroom. One, a young woman, seemed to be comforting the other, a young man with enough resemblance to be a sibling.

Dream spared only a quick glance, "Why am I here, sister?"

Death finally tore her gaze from the two mortals, "Can't you see it?"

Morpheus watched the pair again, unsure of what he was supposed to be seeing.

"Maybe I'm just bad. That's why she left." Dream could see the wisps of despair puffing up around the boy, evaporating like drops of water on a hot pan.

"You took the fall when I broke Mallory's lamp when we were ten. Don't tell me you're bad," the woman insisted despite her soft tone. "And nothing you did made Bella leave."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Dream's gaze swiveled back to his sister, "I am unsure what it is I should be seeing."

Death huffed impatiently, "Open your mind for just one moment and consider that a mortal may surprise you." When he still stared at her, his jaw growing tight with impatience, she rolled her eyes, "She's dream weaving, Dream. You of all people should be able to tell."

"The dream weavers died out hundreds of years ago."

Death grabbed her stubborn brother by the shoulder, twisting him to face the girl again, "Watch."

Dream watched, albeit a bit disdainful, as the young woman continued to speak. She offered musings about their past. Their childhood seemed to have been a difficult one. But she made jokes, reminiscing and reflecting on what they could learn- how they could create better for themselves. And then he saw it.

Human consciousness, all consciousness really, clung to the Dreaming with tethers. Needless to say, humans clung particularly closely compared to most other sentient life. Each dream, though they varied in strength, was a connection to the dreaming. When a being began to lose the will to live, those tethers weakened.

Her brother's tethers were weak; not quite on the brink of severing, but looking rather exhausted. And while it wasn't possible for her to strengthen the tethers- only their owner could do that, she was reinforcing their connection to the Dreaming. The dreams she was sharing were indeed woven into an intricate web, right on the cusp of his realm.

Her own web was vast, ethereal silver glimmering in elaborate knots and designs, each one a waking dream. This girl's very existence was tied up in his realm.

His only show of emotion was a small parting of his lips, but that was enough for Death. "I told you so."

Dream said nothing, watching the girl speak.

"What are you thinking, brother?" Death prompted, clearly awaiting some kind of response.

"It appears that a new age of Dreamweavers may be upon us, sister."

"Are you going to speak to her?"

"I suppose I am duty-bound to make contact. Soon, more like her will appear, if they haven't already. If they go on unsupervised, they could damage the realm."

Death cocked an eyebrow, "Why do you sound so reluctant? You've never had issue with dream weavers in the past, have you?"

"Not yet. But I have an odd feeling about this one."

*

After departing with Death, Morpheus tasked Matthew with keeping an eye on the girl. She stayed with her brother through the night, the pair of them departing early in the morning and returning a short while later with what appeared to be a third sibling.

Only once the two young men were in each other's company did the girl leave, returning to her own home a short distance away.

She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she puttered around the house, cleaning up odds and ends before changing into a tee-shirt and climbing into bed. Underneath her eyes, dark circles were beginning to swell. She was exhausted.

Morpheus almost felt bad for her; this sleep would not be as restful as she might be expecting.

*

Y/N always had vivid dreams, both waking and while asleep. But she immediately knew tonight was different. Dressed in nothing but her tee-shirt and underwear, her bare feet were chilled against the dark stone floor underfoot.

A shadowed figure sat in a throne at the head of the large room, as though waiting for her.

"Hello?" She took a hesitant step forward, hands clinging to the too-short hem of her tee-shirt, which was barely covering the tops of her thighs.

"Approach, Y/L, L/N."

She did as the voice instructed, stepping forward on unsteady legs. It was male, authoritative and nearly stern. But it wasn't aggressive, or even raised in volume. He simply spoke and expected compliance.

It was also beautiful, deeply toned and unrushed in its delivery. He had an accent she couldn't identify, her mind reeling with thoughts as she approached the throne, still cloaked in shadow.

She felt exposed, painfully aware of his gaze on her. She gave her shirt another nervous tug down, trying to make sure she was covered. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she asked, "What is this place?"

The silence stretched, her fingers abandoning the hem of her shirt in favor of fidgeting with the cuticles of her fingernails. But her hands parted hastily and she sucked in a gasp as she suddenly found herself fully clothed in a pair of dark jeans, socks, boots, and a black jacket over her tee-shirt.

She was relieved for both the privacy and warmth granted by the clothes, but her heart was pounding at the magic, "Am I dreaming?"

The figure remained in shadow, "Yes," he confirmed. "But more importantly, you are in the Dreaming."

She blinked, willing her eyes to make out the figure in the dark as questions bubbled up inside her, "And that would make you-?"

He rose slowly from his chair, towering over her at his full height, somehow still shrouded in shadow, "I am Dream of the Endless, creator of the Dreaming, King of Nightmares."

It suddenly became quite clear to her as she gazed up at him that he wanted her to be intimidated. The question of why still loomed.

"King of Dreams then too, right?" She couldn't find it within herself to give him the reaction he wanted, king or no king.

His voice remained level, "Yes."

"Am I forbidden from laying eyes on the King of Dreams?" She cocked her eyebrow, only slightly, in a challenge. She took a step backwards, inviting him to step into the light.

There was another long pause before he answered, "No, you are not." But instead of moving, the shadows seemed to loosen, pale skin blooming behind the darkness until his face was wholly visible.

It seemed the perfect match for his voice, slim with sharp cheekbones and a shock of deep ebony hair. Long, dark lashes framed his eyes, which were dark, almost entirely black in a way that should have been eerie. But they glimmered like stars, little specks of light dancing deep within their depths and seeming to invite her inside. She felt as though she was falling forward until the darkness swallowed her up.

But inside was far from dark. It was a massive stretch of blackness, yes, but far from nothing. The black was a canvas, swirling with color and light and looking like entire galaxies.

A mess of incoherent thought washed over her, driving her own thoughts from her mind. The galaxy showed her a beautiful woman. She felt insecurity, fear, but also something warm and safe she could only describe as love. Then she saw the sun, but the sun as she'd never seen it before. The sun through the eyes of someone who couldn't go blind. And then came pain, rejection, grief-

"You should not be here."

Then she was back in the throne room, balled up on the floor, her cheeks wet with tears. She sat up, hastily wiping her cheeks, but Dream was already hauling her up by the shoulder of her tee-shirt, her extra layer of clothing stripped away in an instant, "You dare to invade my mind?" His dulcet tones were reduced to a mere hiss. "As the King of Dreams, it is my responsibility to warn you that if you or others like you meddle in the affairs of my realm, it will cost you dearly. It seems that every time I show compassion to a human, you are determined to make me regret it. Cross my path again and you will not receive such mercy a second time."

She wanted to plead with him, to make him understand that it had been an accident. She didn't even understand what she'd done- were those his thoughts?

His change in demeanor stung more than it should have. But his sudden rage combined with what little she'd seen made it clear he would not leave himself vulnerable to her, and perhaps for good reason.

"I apologize for any offense, it was not my intent. I will do my best not to get in your way again." She offered him a sad smile, "And I'm sorry for your suffering."

His eyes glimmered in a brooding smolder and then she found herself jolting awake in her bed, a sheen of sweat glittering on her skin. She made a half-hearted attempt to tell herself it had only been a dream, but there was no denying what she'd seen- what she'd felt.

She felt out of place going back to her everyday life, but her work wouldn't wait for her. And there was plenty left to do for her brother, so she put it behind her, hoping that whatever she had done to draw the King of Dreams' ire was a one-time thing. Their interaction had left a lingering bad taste in her mouth.

She had hoped that her responsibilities would drive the memory from the front of her consciousness, but it continued to creep up on her each time she had a moment to breathe, haunting her rare moments of rest with nightmares. She suspected the King of Nightmares was wholly capable of sentencing her to a lifetime of nighttime terrors, but she wasn't convinced this was his intention. But if she was connected to Dream, as he'd called himself, the only way to fix it would be to visit the Dreaming again.

And now she was thinking about it again. She gave herself a shake; she had another long night ahead of her. So she turned up the music in her car and left for her brother's apartment.

*

"I thought I might see you back here, brother." Death looked smug as Dream appeared beside her in the same place they'd watched from last time.

"And why are you here again, Death?"

"To catch you in the act, obviously."

Dream made a disapproving noise at her joke, but didn't press further. He watched as she and her brother played a video game together. He'd done some reading in her book after her uninvited foray into his mind, though mostly out of spite. It had done nothing to reassure him that he'd acted appropriately.

Her childhood had not been an easy one. Teenage parents, poverty, and drug use had rendered her functional guardian to her two younger siblings at a young age. Once he arrived at the abuse resulting from her first romantic relationship, he'd stopped reading.

The two Endless watched for quite some time before speaking again, but surprisingly to Death, it was Dream who broke the silence. "Why are you truly here, sister?"

"It is part of my responsibilities to check on the humans whose ties grow weak."

"Do you spend this long on every one?"

She huffed a sigh, "No." Stealing a glance at Y/N, she admitted, "When she weaves the dreams, that strengthens the connection, giving a weak tie more time to recover."

Dream tipped his head, "Yes, as you explained last time."

"I'm starting to suspect that the dream she's woven around the center tether may be permanent."

"Is such a thing possible?"

"I don't know. Like you said, this could be a new kind of dream weaver." They both watched her laugh, drawing a laugh from her brother as well. "I wish I could just ask her what she's capable of."

Dream looked back on the way the girl had collapsed in his throne room, realization making his stomach sink, "She is unaware of her abilities."

"As far as I can tell." At Dream's silence, Death glanced at him sharply, "Why do I get the sense that you may have done something foolish?"

Dream was silent, reassessing his interaction with this new information. He'd brought her into his realm, exposed and confused, then put on a show of being intimidating and immediately lost his temper, resorting to threats and expulsion.

He refused to feel shame over actions taken to protect his realm, but he couldn't identify the strange pit that seemed to have opened in his gut. She likely thought him a monster, a nightmare himself instead of their king.

"Dream, what did you do?"

Death's voice broke him from his stupor, though he kept his gaze on the girl, "I brought her to my realm and lost my temper."

Death couldn't suppress an eye roll, but Dream didn't seem to notice, "What was it this time?"

"I suspect one of those new abilities allows her access to memory."

There was a long pause. "She got inside that thick skull of yours?"

Dream broke his gaze to send his sister a scathing look, "Yes."

Death sent her an appraising glance, "She seems to be holding up rather well, all things considered." It was meant to be a joke, but Dream thought the circles under her eyes were damning.

"You are typically far slower to admit you are wrong, so I ask you again, brother, what are you doing here?"

"After my meeting with the girl, I spent an entire evening working on new dreams and nightmares. It was the best work I've done in ages."

Now Death did smirk, "She inspired you then? Is she your latest muse?"

"My days of muses are behind me, sister. Aside from the fact that she is a mortal, my realm needs my full attention."

"Of course, brother."

*

That night, when Y/N fell asleep in her bed, she found herself back in the throne room. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stood, grateful that she'd slept in a pair of shorts this time.

"Approach, Y/N."

She did not obey the voice this time, stubbornly remaining in place and gazing resolutely into the dim light, which was only slightly improved from her first visit.

A moment, then two, passed before there came a sigh. "Very well." Several long strides later the King of Dreams had left his throne to stand before her. She avoided his eyes, afraid to repeat her mistakes.

"Dream King."

"Yes, I suppose I deserve that as well."

Tipping up her chin, she nodded, "You do." She seemed to catch herself, "I'm afraid I'm not sure what I did to end up back here."

"I brought you here- in both instances. You've done nothing wrong, I have realized too late."

She was stunned. She hesitantly met his gaze, relieved when her feet remained planted on the floor.

Dream held his expression steady and nodded, "I apologize for my prior behavior."

She surprised herself by tipping her head, "Thank you." She chewed her lip for a moment, "I'm sorry too. For before. I'm really not sure how I did it."

She knew she didn't have the leverage to flaunt a grudge against the Kind of Dreams. She was pleased with her own politeness, but she would not trust easily.

Dream was silent for a long pause, "What exactly did you see?"

She looked away, "Not much. A woman- a beautiful woman. The sun. And I felt-" His eyes seemed to pull her gaze back in, "I felt some of your pain, I think."

"I apologize."

Her brow furrowed, "For your suffering?"

He shook his head, "For yours, at my hands. We have much to discuss, but you will not struggle with nightmares from tonight on."

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a smile, "So, I can rest assured?"

Dream either didn't catch the pun or was ignoring it, nodding, "You may. Now come, have a seat." He led her back toward his throne, where a small tea table and a wooden chair sat on the dais beside his own.

She waited, watching him take his seat on the throne before she sat on the wooden chair, ruefully thinking of her own chair at home. And then it was her chair she was sitting in. No sound or movement accompanied the change, it simply was.

Dream raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the action, "Did you just alter the Dreaming?"

Face flushing with warmth, she stumbled over her words, "Not with intention."

His gaze seemed inquisitive, "Have you always manipulated the Dreaming so skillfully?"

She raised a brow, a reluctant smile forming at the corner of her mouth, "I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"Simply an observation."

"Sounds a bit sinister though, doesn't it? 'Manipulating the Dreaming.'"

"What would you call it if someone were to create their own clay sculpture on a block already used by someone else?" Dream wasn't offended by the action so much as he was curious.

"If it serves a new function, I would call it repurposing," she replied thoughtfully.

There was a long pause, "Indeed." She couldn't decipher his tone. "What if I told you that the person who made the original sculpture also created the clay? And that the only clay that would ever exist was his creations."

She sobered up a little, "I'm sorry if I've ruined your work. Once again, not my intention. I have a lot to learn about your realm."

His gaze trailed over the chair she'd conjured, noting the details. The golden colored thread in the stitching that glinted in the dim light of the throne room. The slight wear to the fabric around the arms. Dreams were often vague, even half-formed, because mortals struggled to shape the Dreaming. But Dream suspected he'd find a perfect match to this chair if he were to visit her home.

"Clay is never ruined for having been used for creation. However, some do not take kindly to their working being- repurposed. But that is what I brought you here to discuss."

She gave him a nod, "I'm listening."

His dark gaze seemed to pierce her, "You are something known as a dream weaver. Historically, dream weavers used their abilities to tether many humans to the same dream."

She blinked at him, expression blank for a long time, "I don't mean any disrespect, but could you be mistaken?"

"I could be, but my sister is almost certainly not."

"Your sister?"

"Death."

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts that had grown thick and slow.

"Why would you want humans to have the same dreams?"

"Back in the early days of human development, human dreams were chaotic and disorganized. Dream weavers helped drive human development by uniting many humans under the same dream."

"Dreams affect human development?"

That drew a surprising chuckle from the Dream King, "Dreams are human development. The world exists as it is because of dreams- because of the Dreaming." There was a marked note of pride in his voice at that.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"So like, the depths of the ocean and all the scary stuff down there was all dreamed up by humans?" He nodded. "What about space- the entire greater solar system? Is any of that real?"

"Created by dreams, but very real." She took a moment to process that, stifling a sigh. "You are displeased?" Dream raised a curious brow.

"That's a very human-centric reality. I kind of liked it when we were just little specks of dust among the vastness of the uncharted cosmos."

The corner of his mouth lifted in almost a smile, "You still are. But only because humans have dreamed it so."

"How have we survived this long? It seems to me that human beings have a tendency to destroy more than we create."

"Humans can be very destructive. But they are also very clever. No other species has demomstrated such an capability to dream up solutions to its problems like humans."

"So like, climate change. The solution to all of the pollution, to the whole climate crisis, exists?"

"Not exactly. It may or may not exist now. But it could exist if enough humans were to dream of it."

She rested her head in her palm, forcing a breath; she was starting to get light headed. This was overwhelming. Her next breath did not come as easily as the first, a fact not unnoticed by the Dream King.

"Are you alright?"

"I-" she swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump in her throat, "I think I'm having a panic attack."

Dream calmly reached out and brushed his hand over her forehead, his intent to soothe her distress. Instead, a sharp spike of heat burst through his palm, quickly going icy. He heard her gasp, but couldn't tear his gaze away as the trails of ice left behind dark lines of deep purple criss-crossing over his wrist.

"What the fuck?" Her voice was barely over a whisper, the only evidence of distress the high-pitched strain that overtook her tone. Tearing his eyes from his hand, he saw the same design decorating her hand in a blue so dark it was almost black.

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked up to his, "Did you-" She left the question unfinished, not wanting to make an accusation and unsure of what to ask even if she did.

"No."

"Do you know what this is?"

"No." His voice had gone cold and hard, just like it had been their first time meeting. Her eyes flicked back to the lines marking her skin and Dream saw the panic begin to rekindle in them.

After only a split second of hesitation, he pressed his palm to her forehead again, "Sleep, now. We will speak again soon."

Her eyes grew cloudy, but she fought against his magic with surprising vigor, "No- the- n-nightmares-"

Dream's hand seemed to slide down over her cheek to cup her face of its own accord as her eyes started to glisten with fear, "You will suffer no bad dreams tonight, Dreamweaver."

And as she faded from his realm, her consciousness joining her body in sleep, Death's words about the girl's resilience to seeing inside his head echoed again. But the lines swirling over his wrist stretched from his fingertips all the way up his forearm, nearly to the elbow, demanding his attention. They were delicate, weaving together and knotting at the crossroads between, like a tangle of flower stems and intricate lace. And at the apex of it all, the palm of his hand had an empty circle at the center.

As he stared at the mark on his hand, Dream of the Endless felt something he was neither accustomed to or fond of- he felt lost.

*

"You look like a kicked puppy today, brother," Death remarked, not breaking pace on her way to the next destination. The city street seemed to blur behind her, though her pace appeared normal. Dream's long strides quickly made up the distance, though he said nothing.

Death's raised eyebrow slowly lowered as she noticed the markings on his hand. "It appears that congratulations are in order."

The frown lines on his face only seemed to grow more pronounced.

"Unless-"

"Unless." Dream was unamused.

"Unless you are not pleased to have found your soulmate."

If he were mortal, those words might have rung in his ears, the vibrations enough to make everything he'd known crumble. But they were not enough because he was not mortal and he did not have a soulmate.

"You believe such foolishness, sister?"

"You are so confident it is foolish with the evidence staring you right in the face?"

"This?" He raised his right hand, "This is not evidence. I have never encountered such delusion in any text or reading-"

"And you will not. But if you sought out the people who can remember the farthest back in human history, they would remember."

"If it is so certain, why is it not documented?" Dream sounded annoyed that it was becoming more difficult to be skeptical.

"It is. But it has been changed in writings, splintered and embellished, transformed into something not quite the same. They never quite get it right. But they dream of it. Surely you have seen that."

"I have. Yet I have never met a mortal with markings like this."

Death suppressed a chuckle at his determination to disprove her theory, "I myself have not seen a soul mate marking in a long time. But they exist. I suspected as soon as you'd told me the girl got in your head."

"I suppose that was a sign as well," he mused bitterly.

"Yes, it was. Why are you so determined not to believe, Morpheus? You aren't usually the type to ignore evidence. I thought you would be happy."

"Happy at a cruel joke? Even if I accepted this as truth, it is clearly the result of Desire's interference once again."

Death shook her head, "Soul mates go even beyond Desire."

"Then why is my soul mate a human?" he demanded. "Am I meant to destroy human-kind in my pursuit of happiness, sister?" He knew he was being unfair, demanding such answers from his sister, but he would not allow her to light the hope inside him. He would not have what he wanted, that much he knew.

"Of course you aren't. I don't have all the answers, Dream. But be patient. They will make themselves clear over time."

That was not what he wanted to hear. "Thank you, sister. I must go." And he did, leaving Death alone just as a sigh fell from her lips.

*

All day long, Y/N got remarks about the lines twisting up her wrist. After a night of blissfully peaceful sleep, she woke up feeling refreshed, taking a moment to examine the designs that had followed her from her dreams.

The lines had filled in more since while she slept. What had been dainty lines had thickened to nearly an eighth of an inch- she'd measured. What was more, the deep, rich blue that had made up the original color was deeper now, with glimmers of royal purple, black, and the occasional glint of something golden- like a raven's wings.

The lines seemed to connect at every possible juncture. The empty circle at the heart of her palm seemed like the center, although she didn't quite understand why.

There was a lot she didn't understand; why did she have a tattoo at all? It wasn't exactly normal to wake up with new ink. And based on the Dream King's reaction, it was also not normal for ancient royalty to find themselves with a flash tattoo. But she would hopefully get more answers tonight.

She was embarrassed- mortified actually, at the way she'd freaked out last night. But she had to go back. He'd called her a Dreamweaver, whatever that meant.

But when she climbed into bed that night, she tossed and turned, anxious thoughts keeping her mind active. She felt a strange sense of trepidation whenever she visited the Dreaming; she wasn't exactly in a hurry to piss off the Dream King any more than she already had at their first meeting. But more concerning than the shadow of fear was the sliver of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Despite her efforts to convince herself it was the remnants of the dream, muddling her emotions, even now she could feel his pull. She could practically feel him waiting for her on the other side of her consciousness. And when she finally did drift off to sleep, she never reached a state of rest.

Instead, she found herself seated in the chair she had left behind the night before in the throne room of what she presumed was the Dream Castle. Dream was waiting for her, his throne no longer shrouded in shadow. In fact, the whole throne room was warm and well-lit, her breath catching as she gazed around at the stunning architecture.

"Did you sleep well?" Dream's voice broke her stupor, somehow managing to catch her off guard.

"What?" Her head snapped to the throne, where he was waiting.

She watched the corner of his mouth curl up in a faint smirk, "You were concerned about nightmares, if I recall."

"Oh. No- yes, I um, slept fine." She wasn't sure why she was so flustered.

Dream let out a low hum, "Excellent."

She wasn't sure what to say, especially since Dream hadn't seemed to be in the best temper when she'd been here last. She had questions, starting with what had happened to her arm and ending with what the hell it actually meant to be a Dreamweaver.

"I'm sure you have questions."

She nodded, "A couple, yes."

"I will answer to the best of my ability."

Though her gaze lingered on the marks on her arm, the words that came out were, "What do I need to know about being a Dreamweaver?"

Dream was pensive before answering, "You must remember that the Dreaming, no matter how it responds to you, is my realm. What I say goes." You had to consciously suppress the shiver that wanted to rattle you at the intense way he held your gaze while he spoke.

She nodded, "You mentioned others- who may not take kindly to my abilities."

That elicited another pause, "That question leads to many more questions. Rest assured, I will provide an overview on my siblings, but not tonight."

She bit back the torrent of follow-ups and asked instead, "Are there more like me?"

He gave his head a solemn shake, "There were a great many Dreamweavers at one point in time. But eventually they stopped emerging and died out."

"No immortality then, I take it?" She was only joking, but he shook his head seriously. She suddenly felt shy meeting his eyes, "Are you immortal?"

He cocked his head like he was determining her intentions, "Not as you might think. I am not mortal- I do not age, grow old, or die by natural causes. Though it is exceedingly difficult, I can be killed."

The silence seemed to stretch as she processed what she had just learned. Everything should have seemed overwhelming- she shouldn't believe it. But she could feel the truth of it.

Finally, she held up a clenched fist, her eyes on the dark lines glistening in the light, "What is this?"

Dream was silent for so long that she almost asked again, but he finally said softly, "It is a soul bond."

Her gaze flicked to his eyes; the dancing lights there seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Then it fell to his own left hand, where the matching lines seemed so much more elegant on his pale skin.

"What does that mean?" She asked even though she already suspected.

"I do not know." That caught her off guard; she expected him to know everything. He certainly seemed to know more than she did.

She surprised him by asking, "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

He'd expected her to push for more information. "Have you always had these abilities?"

She offered a chagrined smile, "I didn't even know I had abilities, to be honest."

"You are quite skilled."

He made a vague hand gesture and she wasn't sure what he'd done. Then she caught a glimpse of light above her head, her mouth falling open at the intricate web of silvery white that seemed to hover over her head. She didn't quite understand how she had created this masterpiece of dreams, but she believed him.

It took her a moment to realize that he had paid her a compliment, "Oh- thank you." Her face felt a bit hot. "I have another question." At his nod, she continued, "Will I see you again?"

She couldn't explain it, since his eyes were so difficult to read, but he seemed pleased as he mulled that over, "You are not bound to me; you are free to go back to your life. But should you have need of the Dreaming, it is always here. I trust you can make your way back."

She couldn't place why she felt as though he were flirting with her; he clearly avoided expressing any kind of desire to see her again of his own volition.

She felt the urge to admit she wanted to see him again, grateful to her own good sense for stopping her before the words formed. Dream hadn't spelled out what kind of being he was to her, but she knew he was likely high above whatever a 'soul bond' meant. He was the definition of being out of someone's league.

So she nodded her head, "Thank you, Dream King."

A beat of silence. "Morpheus. You may call me Morpheus."

Her lips curled into a half-smile, "Thank you, Morpheus."

He wasn't prepared for how his name sounded when spoken from her lips. She wasn't prepared for the soft smile that graced his handsome face. Even solemn, he was beautiful. But a smile, faced directly at her- because of her- it was like knowing the sun was shining because of her.

She was so unprepared that she blinked, waking up in her own bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her; loss, frustration, hope, longing. She felt desperate to fall back asleep, to see that smile grace Morpheus' face again. But if that was going to happen, she would have to go to him.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dreamweaver #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #one shot

[kudzuoath]

Green-Eyed Regard

An unexpected visitor takes up with Temperance on the road to Baldur's Gate. She can't say she ever felt so worried about gaining the approval of a cat. Or more specifically, Gale's tressym, Tara.

–

There was a weight on her chest.

Temperance went from sleep to wakefulness between one breath and the next. Eyes still closed, she feigned dreaming and took in what she could. That pressure of course – very slight – the sound of Gale’s steady breathing, the crackle of the campfire beyond the tent they shared.

Nothing like the scent of blood disturbed the peace of the night. There were no shouts, barks, owlbear screeches.

Wary, she opened one eye.

The calico face of a cat swam out of the darkness above her. Luminous, judging eyes peered down at her from about two inches in front of her nose.

“Ah. There. I was wondering how long you were going to feign your disinterest in the one who has so graciously decided to perch upon you,” she said.

Temperance blinked. The cat was talking. She – no, she hadn’t taken a potion of animal speaking. They’d run out of those ages ago. And besides, she must have been asleep for hours before this point. The quality of light through the cracked tent flap was paler than it would have been if it were still the middle of the night.

Well.

She might as well embrace the strangeness.

“My apologies,” she croaked, voice rough with sleep.

The cat seemed to sit up straighter, lifting her face and making a little ‘mrrp’ of approval. The shift revealed more of her fluffy body – including a lovely set of feathered wings. Temperance only just managed to restrain herself.

Wings – a Tressym.

Gale’s tressym!

Or – well, either that or the man was simply bait for magical creatures.

“You must be Tara,” she said, unable to help her grin. “Gale’s friend?”

Tara lifted one paw – so like Gale’s own gestures she wondered who got it from who – and nodded. “Indeed I am! I suppose if you’re sharing a tent with Mr. Dekarios the two of you must be close? Hm?”

The Tressym leaned in close enough for her nose to touch the end of Temperance’s. Those luminous green eyes filled the world, and stared at her like they were uncertain if she were a mouse or a mephit.

While she didn’t mean to, she felt her smile go a little sappy. “You know he probably had an elaborate plan to introduce us.”

“That is not an answer to my question, young lady!” Tara batted at one of her horns and bared her needle sharp teeth.

Temperance turned her head, wincing exaggeratedly. Genuinely annoyed or not, Tara didn’t seem inclined to actually do her harm.

Beside her, she could see Gale still fast asleep. His hair was a disheveled mess, his beard was going in too many different directions to count, and his face was as relaxed as she’d ever seen it. This would be his best friend, wouldn’t it? She shifted carefully so as not to dislodge the tressym, and looked back up at her.

“I love him.” It was easy to say. He was so easy to love. Well – perhaps a bit exasperating at times – but no less the person her fractured heart went out to. “I hope that answers enough?”

Tara settled sphinx-like on Temperance’s sternum. She felt more than saw the way her tail switched back and forth. Her own tail had been known to do the same thing when she was thinking. Typically when she was thinking tactically.

“Yes,” Tara agreed – though not with Temperance. “Yes, I do believe you’ll do nicely. Mrs. Dekarios and I were both wondering when our young man might finally find someone to settle down with! We were beginning to think he never would.”

She blinked. “I – what?”

“I said –”

Temperance shook her head. “I heard you. No, I meant – well.” An awkward gesture skyward. “What about Mystra?”

Not for the first time she felt slightly lightheaded acknowledging the fact that Gale’s last relationship was with a goddess. It didn’t bother her – but it certainly made a woman want to stare off into space and contemplate what counted for normal these days.

“Pish,” said Tara. “As if one can truly settle down with a goddess. It’s not the same, you know. And dear Mrs. Dekarios can hardly expect grandchildren from that affair!”

Temperance choked. Then she went pink. And last she covered her face with one hand and shook with silent laughter. For some reason, all she could think of was Gale being Dame Aylin’s father. She was the only aasimar Temperance knew – and somehow she couldn’t imagine any other kind of personality to the child of a goddess.

A paw on her cheek, claws like little pinpricks. Not doing any damage, simply extended in a catlike reminder of their presence. “And what, pray tell, is so funny about that idea?”

“I don’t know if I can explain if you haven’t met Dame Aylin already.”

“The pale one?”

“I don’t think you know how much that doesn’t narrow things down.”

Tara sniffed. “With the wings.”

“Then yes, that’s her.”

“Well. She was being – if you’ll pardon my language – rather boisterous with that other young woman when I dropped by.”

“She’s been known to be that,” Temperance said dryly.

By now everyone in camp was well aware of how much Isobel and Aylin had missed each other. Shadowheart had finally lost all patience and cast silence on their tent two days back. Even Astarion – who only needed three hours of meditation a night – had been relieved.

Tara stepped lightly off of Temperance – allowing her to finally sit up – and padded over to Gale. Her face hovered over his as she eyed him with the most worried, critical expression Temperance had ever seen on a cat.

“Has he been alright? He’s been gone for some time, now...”

Temperance considered. He wasn’t set on dying for his goddess any longer. But something else was going on. When they’d finally surfaced in Moonrise Towers again, after fighting Myrkul’s avatar he’d breezed right past the moment that still filled her heart with ice water. Fixated instead on the black twists of metal perched upon the elder brain. On the crown.

And something about the fever bright quality of his eyes still bothered her.

Though of course, he had just been knocked silly and spent an entire day fighting. It wasn’t that odd to be a little… off kilter.

“Something has happened, hasn’t it?” The tressym asked. “You will inform me of it at once –”

“A lot has happened,” Temperance said. She moved to sit cross legged, giving up on any hope of sleeping. “I know you know about the orb.”

“Naturally.”

“Mystra sent Elmister…” what a bloody goddamn sentence that was. Who would have ever expected her to be able to speak of goddesses and heroes as casually as Wyll spoke of wine and dancing?

More than the strangeness though, there was the outrage. A flame lit itself in her heart that day after leaving the Grymforge. It had yet to diminish.

“He told Gale there was a way to earn her forgiveness. And her idea of forgiveness was blowing himself up on purpose.”

“She what?!” Tara yowled.

Temperance was glad the cat was no longer on her with how her claws shredded at the tarp below them. It was gratifying though, to see someone from Gale’s past be properly angry about it. Her anger didn’t quite apply to Elminster – but she couldn’t say she was very fond of the man given the role he’d taken on. Even if it wasn’t one he could necessarily say no to.

“Oh if I get my claws on her I’ll – I’ll –” Tara descended into hissing and spitting and made a combative swipe at the air, wings up, fur bristling.

“I’ll help,” Temperance said. Even though she knew her chances of biting a goddess were astronomically low. And more importantly – Gale wouldn’t want her to. She sighed and leaned into one of her hands. Much as she didn’t want to give Mystra any grace – she did want Tara to have all the information. “There's a cult. We were to track down its heart… and when we did, we discovered that heart was an enslaved elder brain.”

“I… I see,” Tara said, taken aback. “How on earth did he manage to get himself tangled up in all of this…”

“Well,” said Gale, startling them both. “When you’re abducted by a mind flayer ship and infected with one of their young, it's a tad difficult to avoid looking into the matter.”

“Mr. Dekarios!” Tara said, going up on her hind legs so she could put her forepaws on him. Like a very small concerned parent. Her wings flared out, batting Temperance slightly. “Why, you’ve had no idea how worried I’ve been! And Mind flayers! How long do you have? We must eject that foul passenger immediately.”

Gale smiled, eyes overbright and voice a little hoarse. “It's gratifying to hear you haven’t given up on me.”

Tara sat back primly. “I’ve known you since before you had that thing on your face, let alone what's in it. I’m hardly going to let you go now. You’ve been a worrisome but all together worthy companion to have!”

“Why you have such a problem with my beard I’ll never understand,” he said, laughing. There was a watery quality to it.

“I think he looks dashing,” Temperance said dryly. Without thinking, she reached out and smoothed his beard down. Something that made Gale look at her with such affection her face went hot.

The tressym sniffed. “Blinded by love, clearly.” And then she sighed. “I suppose I’ve dealt with worse flaws in a pet.”

“Oh you’ve your work out for you yet, Tara my dear. She’s just as curious as I am.”

“Hmm…” Once more, Temperance was being eyed by the tressym. “Judging by those arms of hers, she isn’t a wizard. I do believe I can handle it, Mr. Dekarios.”

Temperance surprised herself with a loud bark of laughter that she quickly covered with one hand. She’d been working on letting those out lately. Unfortunate that it had to happen at the crack of dawn.

“Now,” said Tara. “I expect you to introduce me?"

“Ah, of course.” Gale reached out and took Temperance’s hand. Absently running his thumb over her scarred knuckles and looking at her with an expression so soft she felt like she’d submerged herself in a hot bath. Oh they both had it bad, didn’t they? “Tara! This is my love, Temperance. Temperance, this is my dear friend, Tara.”

Tara inclined her head like a queen. “Yes. Yes I do believe I approve. Even if you also insist on having things on your face.”

“Alas, the tattoos are here to stay,” she said, unoffended. “It is lovely to meet you, Tara. Gale speaks of you often.”

The Tressym smiled in the way only felines could, tail switching back and forth again. “I cannot wait to let Mrs. Dekarios knows about the two of you!”

#bg3 #gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #tara bg3 #gale/tav #baldur's gate 3 #tara the tressym #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #my writing #bg3 spoilers

[pikablu410]

Double Date

Haha...it’s been a bit. But I’m back, hopefully. And hopefully more consistently!

“You almost ready, dear?” Their partner’s voice called from downstairs.

“Yeah just let me wash up and I’ll be down in a second.” They replied before heading into the bathroom. Nick looked at himself in the mirror. The gray suit and dark blue tie complimented his brown skin well. The dark slacks showed off his recent hours at the gym, something he was most proud of. To top off his appearance, a freshly shaven face along with dark curls gave Nick quite the handsome appearance.

“Nick! Derek and Amir aren’t going to wait all night!” The voice called once more.

“I’m coming Tyler; hold on!” Nick shouted before briskly hurrying down the stairs. Once downstairs, he saw his partner in a black suit that brought out his blue eyes and accentuated his dark hair.

“You look great.” Was all he could think of.

Tyler blushed and said, “Thanks.” Their moment didn’t last long as Tyler quickly remembered they were running late. Rushing to the car, Tyler and Nick hopped in and buckled in.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Nick asked, but Tyler just shrugged. “Too late now.” And with that, the two hurried off as the sun started to set. 

“I still think it’s weird that Derek suggested a buffet for a place to have a double date. That one fancy restaurant isn’t too far out of the way.” Nick stated as they waited at a red light. 

“Well, it’s a new place so I guess he just wants to check it out. Plus, Derek did suggest this whole thing and offered to pay for it all, so I’m not complaining.” Tyler rebutted, just as the light turned green.

A moment of silence struck the two before Nick finally asked, “Derek’s the one who’s apart of that…group?”

“A group? Like a band?” Tyler asked, teasing Nick.

“You know what I mean. It’s that…thing you’re into.” Nick elaborated, and Tyler’s smile slowly faded.

“...yeah, he’s a feeder.” Tyler nearly mumbled.

Nick’s partner had expressed his interest in bigger men early on in their relationship. Tyler was particular, in that they weren’t content with just dating a bigger guy. They had to grow the man themselves, letting their partner graze and feast like a lazy farm animal. Derek was one of Tyler’s friends that they had made online through a site that connected people with similar thoughts. While Nick had never met Derek, he saw pictures that Tyler took and let him read the messages the two sent back and forth to each other. Though, Nick was never really keen on reading them after seeing the kinds of things they talked about.

When Tyler had brought this up to Nick, with the prospect of Nick going along with Tyler’s “strange dream,” as he put it, Nick declined almost immediately. His goal in college was to work out more and lose what little excess weight he had lingering from high school, and so the two’s goals seemed to be direct opposites of each other. Luckily, Tyler seemed to take the rejection well and basically dropped the subject altogether around Nick. The only time it ever got brought up was when Tyler talked about…

“Derek wanted me to warn you before we go in.” Tyler said, parking the car. Nick had zoned out for so long he hadn’t realized they had already arrived.

Raising his eyebrow, Nick hesitantly asked, “What should I be worried about?”

“Amir is also into the whole…feeder thing. Except he likes to be the one growing.” Tyler said, as if confessing to a sin.

“Okay? Why would that be an issue?” Nick asked, to which Tyler sighed. 

“It’s just that. Derek knows you’re not into it, and he and his partner are. He just didn’t want you to be grossed out.” Tyler further explained.

Nick just shrugged and said, “It shouldn’t be a problem for me.”

“Alright then.” Tyler mumbled through a sigh as the two stepped out of the car and headed inside. 

The place looked more like a bar than a buffet. The lighting was very dim and all of the seats were covered with leather. The tables were a rustic oak, or some other kind of wood. Each table had antique salt and pepper shakers, adding to the classic look. Despite everything, Nick felt like the place had an eerie quality to it, one that Tyler didn’t seem to feel or notice. 

Another strange thing was that none of the customers seemed to be women. They also seemed to be all kinds of overweight. There were a few skinny men, which the couple could quickly identify as twinks, but the majority of the people eating with either chubby or downright fat. 

“C’mon, Derek and Amir text me that they’re already here.” Tyler said, going over to a waiter to find their seats. The stick thin man guided the couple over to a booth, where Nick was able to finally lay eyes on his partner’s friend in person, as well as their partner.

Derek’s appearance wasn’t a surprise, as Tyler had shown Nick a photo of him not just two days ago. He had straight, black hair that was neatly combed and was wearing a plaid button-up shirt. Cyan shorts and ankle socks completed the nerdy look, but if Nick had seen Derek walking around the city, or even in the gym, he wouldn’t have batted an eye.

The same couldn’t be said for Amir.

“You must be Nick! I’ve heard a bit about you from Derek already!” Amir introduced himself. 

Amir had glasses and short, brown hair. That was about where the typical traits ended. Amir had on a similar plaid button-up, like his partner, but the buttons were strained tightly against his bulbous belly. It must’ve stuck out at least a foot in front of him - maybe more. Nick could see a tank top underneath the shirt, as if Amir or Derek knew it was in danger of snapping off. Continuing to match Derek, Amir had on a pair of orange shorts that clung to his rear and thighs. When Amir had gotten up to greet Nick and Tyler, the man struggled to waddle over to the two without damaging the pants. Thunder thighs, a thick double chin and love handles poking out from under his shirt, Amir was an embodiment of the reason why he really wasn’t keen on going along with Tyler’s…thing. Whatever he may call it.

After introductions, the two sat their possessions down at the table. 

“Well, why don’t we grab something to eat?” Derek suggested. Nick and Tyler agreed and headed off to the buffet line, but Amir barely moved and said, “You know what I like to eat, right babe?” “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” He teased, giving Amir a kiss on the cheek before walking with Nick and Tyler.

Tyler and Derek talked for a bit before Derek said, “Amir’s favorite dishes are over this way; I’ll meet you guys back at the table!” As Derek headed off to another section of the buffet, Nick pulled his partner over as they grabbed plates for the two of them. 

“Dude!” Nick whispered to Tyler, who looked confused. “What? Did I miss something?” They asked, looking around their surroundings.

“You didn’t tell me he’d be, y’know, huge!” Nick whispered again, to which Tyler turned around and rolled their eyes. 

“Can you just get through this one dinner, please? For me?” Tyler pleaded, handing Nick a ceramic plate. 

Looking into his partner’s eyes and sighing, Nick reluctantly took the plate and headed over to the buffet line, Tyler following quickly after. Nick quickly noticed that there weren’t a ton of healthy options to choose from. There was a salad bar, but it looked like it hadn’t been restocked recently. It made sense, since the lines were at the buffet trays with burgers, french fries and pizza. Even the options that seemed healthier, like steak and mashed potatoes, were dripping in either grease or butter. Nick hesitantly put a burger, some fries and a steak on his plate, trying to keep it light. However, he was still hungry and the food definitely smelled good, so he decided on eating something. Plus, he was sure Amir would eat whatever he didn’t. 

The thought reminded him that Derek had gone to a different part of the restaurant for Amir’s food. “If this isn’t the stuff Amir likes, I’m not sure I wanna see what he does like.” Nick thought to himself as he walked back to their table with Tyler.

Unfortunately for Nick, his question was answered as he saw Derek had already gotten back to the table and was feeding Amir some food. At least, that’s what Nick thought it was. Derek had brought back an entire pizza tray, and the pizza had hamburgers as toppings. It only got worse the more Nick saw; deep fried burgers, bacon wrapped ribs, cheese-stuffed wings and dessert lasagna were just a few of the items lined in front of Amir. The pig himself was being stuffed to the brim by Derek, moaning and groaning with each mouthful for greasy, disgusting slop.

Derek noticed the two sitting down and blushed a bit, “Oh! Did you guys enjoy yourselves?” 

“I could ask you two the same thing!” Tyler teased, setting their plate of salad and chicken fries down on the table.

Nick followed in his partner’s example and gave a disingenuous chuckle. Looking down at his plate, he realized he also went a little overboard. Whereas Tyler had only gotten a salad and some chicken, he had enough to feed a few people.

“Ty, I’m not sure I can-”

“Oh, I got you two sodas to drink. Sorry Nick, they were out of tea and water.” Derek mentioned before going back to feeding Amir. Sauces surrounded his mouth and spilled to his chest, which was barely hidden from public view.

Shaking his head, Nick just decided to eat something and get this double date over with. Grabbing his burger, Nick noted how grease dropped from the bottom bun. Taking a breath, Nick closed his eyes and took a light bite of the sandwich.. It tasted amazing! Somehow, the grease didn’t bother Nick at all, so he took another bite. Again, it was delicious! He barely noticed how quickly he finished his burger and moved onto his steak. It was at this point that he casually started grabbing some fries intermittently, not wanting to stop himself from eating. Nick hastily cut up his steak, finding it surprisingly easy to cut through the meat. He figured with all the grease, the steak would be cooked poorly, but his knife and fork went through like butter. It was almost as if the steak was butter itself with how greasy it was and how good it tasted! 

After a mere ten or so minutes, Nick found his fork hitting a bare plate. Smiling, Nick sat back and started to talk.

“Man, that was surprisingly-URRP!” Nick surprised himself with a belch.

“Sorry, he’s a bit of a pig.” Tyler apologized to Derek and Amir.

Raising his eyebrow, Nick turned to his partner and said, “What do you mean pig? I’m not the one who’s-” “Oh, don’t worry. I know a thing or two about guys who act like pigs.” Derek joked, smiling at Amir, who smiled back before opening his mouth for another piece of chocolate lasagna. It was as if Nick hadn’t even tried to say anything to them. 

“Yeah, I mean, babe, getting two plates full of greasy food isn’t exactly healthy.” Tyler commented, motioning to a plate filled with mashed potatoes, pizza and wings. 

Taking a bite of pizza as if it had always been there, Nick rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy. “Can a man not be hungry? It’s a buffet after all.” Nick thought to himself, devouring a few wings before going back to the pizza. He licked his lips and the surrounding areas of his mouth of grease, letting out another small belch after drinking some soda. As Nick started on the mashed potatoes, he felt something start to rub his stomach. Looking down to see Tyler’s hand going in a circular motion, Nick continued to eat without questioning what they were doing. Why should he? He knew they were just trying to help him eat more, since Tyler knew how much he loved to eat. 

“Babe, do you want my chicken wings? I’m kinda full already.” Tyler said, pushing his plate towards Nick as if they already knew the answer. 

The boy dipped the wings in his mashed potatoes, moaning at the combined taste of grease and butter. It was astounding! Once again finishing his plate within minutes, Nick leaned back as Tyler continued to massage his gut.

“We should go out for new clothes soon; I think you’re starting to enjoy eating a bit too much.” Tyler half-joked. 

Nick looked down to see his bloated gut. It was just bloated, right? With the way Tyler squeezed it and the feeling Nick got from it, he wasn’t sure.

“Tyler, can you stop rubbing-UURRRRP.” Nick let out a slightly larger belch.

“What’s wrong babe?” They asked, still continuing to massage their boyfriend’s stomach. They started to push and prod more, feeling their hands sink into the squishy chub.

“I’m serious, I don’t feel-” Just as Nick was mid-sentence, he let out a fart. It was only loud enough for the table to hear, but Nick felt just as embarrassed all the same. Well, embarrassed at first.

“Ooohhhh.” Nick moaned, as if he had just lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders.

“Nice one dude!” Amir complimented, letting out his own belch and fart before continuing to be fed.

At that moment, Nick remembered that this was a double date. He looked over at Amir and saw that the bottom button on his shirt had snapped off at some point, leaving just enough olive-colored belly exposed so you could see his bellybutton. Amir and Derek were obviously not perturbed by Nick’s display of gluttony. In fact, nobody seemed to think Nick’s behavior was strange at all, including the man himself. 

“I’m gonna go get more food.” Nick said, going to stand up and finding that he had to readjust his center of balance. Though it surprised him at first, a grumbling stomach and the scent of food distracted him long enough to not think much of it.

“I’ll come with. Just in case you grab more than you can carry.” Tyler teased, but no one seemed to take it as a joke.

Quickly heading back to the buffet line, Nick grabbed a few burgers this time, doing the same with multiple pizza slices. He barely noticed how they dripped with more cheese and grease than the ones he had eaten minutes ago. Nick quickly filled up his second plate with wings and fries. Noticing the dessert bar, which he had purposefully ignored his first time around, Nick decided to put a cupcake and donut onto his second plate. 

“Is there anything you want more of babe?” Tyler asked, poking his head over Nick’s shoulder to see what he was getting.

Realizing he had been in a sort of trance, Nick snapped back to reality and looked over at his partner. “Uh, whatever you think I’d like. Those wings and burgers were pretty good.” Nick responded, and Tyler smiled before heading over to the buffet line. 

Coming back to the table to see that Amir was nowhere near done with his first course, Nick and Tyler placed their plates down once again. This time, however, they had to be much more careful not to spill anything. 

Almost immediately, Nick got to eating. The burgers tasted even better than they had earlier, despite how he left even less time to savor their tastes. Cheese and sauce spilled onto Nick’s shirt and splattered around his mouth. It was like some urge had taken over his normally pragmatic attitude. This continued with the pizza, tomato sauce and bits of other toppings making a mess of Nick’s face and outfit.

“Mmpf, sho good.” He couldn’t help but moan out. He could hear Tyler and Derek talking about something, but didn’t pay it enough attention to actually listen. Instead, Nick continued to stuff himself, letting out moans and groans as he ate. Finishing his first plate, he let out a burp and thought “I could eat this stuff all day.” 

Nick reached for his second plate, but noticed a plate holding a rack of ribs in front of him. That wasn’t always there, was it? Maybe it was one of the plates Tyler had gotten him. Either way, the barbecue smell was tantalizing and Nick started to chow down on the ribs. The meat fell right off the bone, leaving his face covered with bits of ribs and barbecue sauce. More moans were elicited from the man, followed by a fart that went unnoticed by everyone at the table, including Nick. “Man, why am I so hungry?” Nick thought as he tore apart more of the ribs. 

Finishing the last of the ribs, Nick let out a belch just as Derek spoke up.

“So Nick,” He started, shoving a donut into Amir’s mouth, “Tyler told me that you were actually the one who proposed the idea of gaining.”

Nick’s eyes went wide. “Hu-URRRP” He barely got out before belching. Absentmindedly, he shoved some fries in his mouth as he tried to process the conversation.

“What’s wrong honey? Don’t you remember asking me to cook more for you?” Tyler asked.

“No, I explicitly remember saying-URRRRRRRP. God damn why am I so gassy?” Nick complained, losing his train of thought. 

“Here, you’re just bloated. Keep eating and let me help.” Tyler said, holding another pizza slice in front of Nick’s mouth. They then started to rub Nick’s stomach, causing him to realize a few things.

First, Nick let out a moan, discovering how good it felt when his partner massaged his stomach. It caressed some gas out, but it was worth it for more room and just the feeling in general.

Second, Nick felt Tyler’s hand right on his stomach. Not the button up shirt he was wearing, but his bare skin. Looking down, Nick realized the bottom button of the shirt had popped open, leaving a bit of his stomach on for show.

“Whoa, what the he-mmpf, mmmh.” Nick could barely get out before being fed more. 

“Shh, just relax baby.” Tyler cooed. Nick wasn’t used to Tyler being so dominant.

“Babe I’m…getting fat…fast…” Nick said between mouthfuls of food.

“I know right! It’s so sexy how your body’s basically just…giving up!” Tyler nearly panted out.

Nick felt like he should be disgusted by what Tyler said, but, against all instinct, he could feel blood rushing towards his dick. He opened his mouth to say something, but Tyler shoved a wing in instead. Nick habitually chewed the wing, opening his mouth once again to say something, but was just fed more by his partner. 

Tyler continued to feed Nick more and more, with Nick realizing that they should’ve run out of food awhile ago. He felt more air on his stomach, and, when he went to reach for it, felt that it wasn’t bloated at all. Instead, Nick could jiggle his stomach and grab at the rolls that made it up. His partner took advantage of this, squeezing the stomach to coax more belches and farts out as Nick ate. Nick could barely resist, the feeling of Tyler’s hands on his stomach still igniting an electric feeling in him.

“You’re becoming such a pig.” Tyler whispered as he held a cupcake in front of Nick’s mouth.

“I’m not a-URRRRRP-ooohhh.” Nick barely got out. The more he ate, the harder it was to believe what Tyler was saying was false. 

“Babe. I look-URRRP-a mess.” Nick breathed out before he was fed more. Sauces now dripped onto his belly, with red and yellow stains bleeding into his top. Though, it wasn’t like the top was hiding much, just acting as a cover for Nick’s inflated chest. Faint outlines of enlarged nipples could be seen through the fabric. His pants didn’t fare much better, as his rear had pushed them down so far just his boxers were keeping it from being exposed to the public. If he ate much more, his ass crack would probably be visible to the people at the table behind them.

“Aww, don’t worry Nick-y. Amir’s bursted his shirt open too.” Tyler said, as if being compared to that fat pig of a man offered any recompense. 

Though, it did remind Nick to actually check his surroundings and look across the table. Amir looked absolutely stuffed, but was still eating more. His ginormous stomach was out and exposed, his moobs the only hidden part of his upper body. Sweaty, dirty rolls were exposed, and if Nick could look under the table he would see that there were tears in Amir’s pants as well. Despite this, all he could hear from Amir was moans of “More,” or satisfied groans of pleasure.

“Man, Amir looks pretty filthy Derek.” Tyler commented as they fed Nick more. At this point, Nick could barely resist eating whatever was held up in front of his face, thanks to his paranormal hunger. 

“Yeah, he tends to get pretty worked up when we’re out eating.” Derek commented. He fed Amir another burger, mustard dripping from his double chin and onto what was left of his shirt. “Your pig seems to be pretty messy too.” Derek said, pointing at Nick.

“C’mon man, I’m not that dir-URRRRRP,” Nick belched out. It was getting harder and harder to fight back against the comments Derek and Tyler made about him. 

Nick farted before Tyler fed him and spoke up, “Yeah, I tried to keep cleaning him for the longest time, but he’s gotten so fat and lazy that getting him to fit into the shower is too much of a struggle.” Sweat dampened Nick’s underarms and in between his moobs. His exposed rolls of fat felt cool with the sweat dripping off of them in the air conditioned room. Even more food stains appeared on Nick’s shirt and skin. Gas flowed out of him even more easily now.

“URRRRP-urgh, fuck.” Nick panted before farting and being fed more.

“Y’know, he’s gotten so lazy he stopped bothering with shaving. I was a little concerned at first, since he was so obsessed with it before, but I think it’s super hot now.” Tyler went on, rubbing Nick’s stomach.

Hair started to sprout on Nick’s exposed skin, his belly going from shiny and clear to sweaty and hairy. The same could be said about his chest and arms. Peach fuzz appeared on his cheeks at first, but the hair on his chin and upper lip thickened to look like a darker shade of fur. Bits of food appeared in the fur on his face, which Nick instinctively tried to lick out. 

Finally, the third button burst on Nick’s top, leaving only one button to keep his shirt together. Not like it was holding anything back, as essentially all of Nick’s sweaty, bloated, hairy body was exposed. He looked more like a bear than the pig Tyler and Derek had teased him of being.

“Damn! I didn’t think Amir would be the last one to burst out of his shirt!” Derek admitted, sounding genuine for the first time that night.

“Urgh, babe, URRP, I want more.” Nick gasped out, lust on his breath. 

Smiling, Tyler gave him a peck on the cheek and said, “Of course baby! Wanna come with Derek?”

And with that, the two, bulbous men were left with the scraps of food they hadn’t been fed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Amir asked after Derek and Tyler were out of earshot. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess.” Nick replied, shoveling bits of fries and nachos into his mouth.

“Why’d you wanna start gaining? From what I’ve heard you used to be super fit.” Amir spoke, picking at bits of fried food on the plates in front of him.

Thinking back, Nick got a headache. It was hard to think about his past. He didn’t really have a reason for doing this, or anything really. Tyler made all of his decisions. 

“I dunno. To make Tyler happy I guess.” Nick slurped down the leftover nacho cheese.

“Nah, I think it’s more than that.” Amir smirked, causing Nick to look up in curiosity. “From one fatty to another, I know it’s more than that. I love that I get to be a lazy pig and do nothing. Derek just takes care of me and feeds me whenever I ask. He gets to decide how big I am and if I’ll ever lose any of this.” Amir went on, motioning to his jiggling body

The words resonated with Nick, causing him to let out a quiet moan as he ate.

“And from the sound of it, you feel similarly.” Amir smiled before continuing to tease, “I bet you love how you’re losing control of your body. Not only is your body growing out of control, but you can’t help but spew gas and make a mess when you eat. It’s like your partner is making you a human pig.” Nick let out a more audible moan as he shoved a half-eaten piece of lasagna in his mouth. Cheese dripped onto his chest, getting entangled in the fur there. He slobbered over some leftover fries before shoving them down his throat.

“Fuck…” was all Nick could pant before devouring more leftovers. Sauces splattered around his mouth and what was left of his button up.

“So Nick, I’ll ask again,” Amir said, eating a whole slice of cake in seconds, “Why do you do it?”

Nick belched and shoved a handful of buttery mashed potatoes into his mouth, “I wanna get bigger. Being fat is so…URRRRRP…so sexy.” Nick moaned out, “I love being treated like a pig.”

Amir smirked, letting out his own belch. The conversation was starting to turn him on even more than he already was with Derek feeding him. Unfortunately, before Amir could take it any further Derek and Tyler arrived back at the table, each with a cart full of food.

“The line’s are getting shorter and shorter. We must’ve come at a good time!” Derek innocently said as he sat next to Amir.

“Everything alright babe?” Tyler asked, sitting next to Nick.

“Urp- more…want more…” Nick belched out. Tyler smiled as his partner and shoved a cupcake into his mouth, smearing the icing all around his lips. Nick just licked up the icing like a pig, not bothering to care how Tyler made a mess of him.

“We’ve got such good piggies, don’t we Tyler?” Derek asked aloud, feeding Amir several brownies.

“They’re so nice and fat, and love to eat so much.” Tyler cooed, relentlessly stuffing food into Nick’s mouth. The boy begged for more while his mouth was full of food, unable to resist wanting more.

About halfway through their carts of food, Amir and Nick just started to mindlessly eat whatever was held in front of their mouths. Grunts and moans of pleasure sounded from their table, though it wasn’t much different from the rest of the buffet. 

Nick moaned as the final button holding his shirt together burst, causing his moobs to flop out and the rest of his upper body to jiggle. The force caused him to belch, of which Tyler cheered him on for. 

“So big…need more…” Nick panted out, barely able to say something before he attacked more food Tyler handed him.

Amir’s shirt didn’t last much longer after that, though Derek did comment about how impressed he was Nick lost his shirt before Amir.

“Such a fat piggy.” Derek teased, grabbing one of Amir’s moobs and jiggling. Amir just moaned, unable to form a coherent thought through the pleasure of gluttony and his growing body.

Though their shirts were basically gone, their pants weren’t fairing much better. Tears could be seen on Nick and Amir’s thighs, with Nick’s ass forcing the back of his pants down so much his rear was really only covered because of his underwear. Plus, his ass had gotten so big and wide that his crack was showing through the gap in his chair. The two cheeks jiggled from the immense force of his farts, Nick enjoying the slight sensation.

As the two neared the end of their carts, Derek and Tyler stuffing them like build-a-bear plushes, the two piggish men could barely contain themselves. Their eyes were glazed over, rolls of fat spilling out due to their lack of clothing. Both were stuck in their underwear, fat bodies completely on display.

Faint creaking could be heard from each man’s chair, but they were so invested in consuming that they didn’t pay attention. 

“Last donut babe. Eat up.” Tyler ordered, Nick opening his mouth wide to devour the morsel. Chewing at a languid pace, Nick eventually ate the last of his meal, celebrating his accomplishment with a weak burp. Just then, his chair came crashing down the ground, Nick’s immense body jiggling from the impact. He let out more gas from the force of the crash, though his moans of joy were louder than his gas. 

“Nick! Are you alright?!” Tyler asked, with genuine concern.

“URRRP! So big…so fat…” Nick moaned out, slowly rubbing his expansive belly as he let out more gas.

Amir fell shortly after, making a similar comment about his size.

“Such a…fat pig…more…” Amir gasped. It wasn’t that he wanted more to eat, but he was so used to asking more more it became habitual.

“I think it’s time to head home. Our piggies need to get to their dessert feast at home!” Derek commented, which elicited pleasant, eager groans from both blobs.

Helping their partners up, Tyler and Derek led their fat pigs to a wide truck in the parking lot. Nick was about to say something about driving separately, but he remembered that no car would be able to hold him comfortably. Plus, this made it easier to get to his feast at Derek’s house.

Their arms under their pigs’, Tyler and Derek slowly helped the two fatties into the back seat of the truck. The seatbelts didn’t fit over their bodies, but their weights were so massive that the belts probably wouldn’t have done much anyways.

Starting on their way home, Nick let out a belch as he watched the buffet slowly travel out of sight.

“You’ve been a pretty good piggy tonight. I love how big you are.” Nick heard Amir say as he leaned over towards Nick. As his body grew closer to Nick’s, so did Amir’s face. It wasn’t long before their lips collided, the two pigs groping each other’s bodies as they made out.

“That was a pretty successful trip considering Nick was even skinnier than you when we got there.” Derek said, noticing the two in the back were preoccupied.

“Well, he had less body fat than me. The muscle was the difficult part. For me, at least.” Tyler said, “Is your shake really that strong? I gave it to Nick like an hour or two before we even left for the buffet.”

“When the food is as fattening as Patty’s it is! I swear, every feeder and their mother has been to that place at least once! I was surprised you’d never been.” Derek commented, causing Tyler to rub the back of his neck.

“I never had the chance to go.” He awkwardly stated, but Derek gave a beaming smile.

“Well now you do!” He said, pointing to the two fat men continue to make out in the back.

Amir and Nick were feeling every crevasse, every roll, every cell of cellulite on each other’s bodies.

“You know what good piggies get, right?” Amir asked with a devious smirk. Nick just moaned, too bothered thinking about fat and food to coherently respond. 

Amir lowered himself, lifting Nick’s heavy belly. Going under, Nick’s moans just got louder and more piggish. When Amir found his target, he nearly let out a squeal. He loved being a fat pig.

#male weight gain #weight gain story #male weight gain story #weight gain #gay weight gain

[thearchercore]

Hi!

You mentioned Daniels nonexistant social media presence in one of your posts.

Can you please elaborate?🥺 What do you think why doesnt he post? I noticed redbull not posting him so much.

I read it in a lot of places how he will be great for alpha touri rebrand but will he really?

I started watching this year and I simply dont see it.

I would love to read one of your deep dives on Daniel

well, let's say daniel is a very interesting case when it comes to PR as of lately. he was in his prime when DTS started filming and they essentially picked him as the unofficial narrator of the series.

he was fairly popular, especially in the US market because of it. then, however, his career got twisted by a series of questionable team moves -- from red bull to renault, then immediately to mclaren.

his mclaren move was also affected by the way he was mistreated as a driver (bad mental health support, had to lose more weight than usual, contract terminated earlier etc etc) to the point daniel had to leave F1 for a bit.

that being said, daniel's personality and history still makes him easily marketable. just look at all the tiktok edits of him, he has an audience without a doubt.

he also has a lot of potential to be relatable to the new audience, he's funny, a solid driver, great marketing weapon for other marketing side quests. he also, for example, is a huge harry styles fan. (and harry even wore a shirt with daniel's name!) little fun facts like these would make him very appealing to the new audience.

the first thing i did not enjoy with his PR was the way he's gunning for checo's seat. sure, he wants to go back to red bull, we all get that it's his ultimate long term endgame. but because of him, alpha tauri terminated a contract of a rookie driver to basically offer him a set. which was a questionable move.

even after he scored an f1 seat back, he was still making comments about how his dream would be back at red bull, the RBR accs also posted him significantly more than they should have.

then, his treatment towards his alpha tauri seat is also questionable. he treats that team more as a back up and rather presents himself as a third RBR driver than an alpha tauri driver, or yuki's teammate per se.

daniel finished the season by saying in abu dhabi "this year was for me to prove myself that this is still my passion, and it is." which GREAT STORY. he could do so much more with it, but the narrative of him stealing other people's seat (nyck, potentially checo) is somehow louder than that, and that makes him look a bit like a villain.

again, his mistreatment at mclaren would also be a great PR asset -- his journey of going back to his original form and re-building confidence, but he's not doing much with it on social media. in fact, his presence outside of daniel.jpg is little to none.

just look at how his fans act when he posts something random, he's not exactly selling himself and his assets online and it's really quite a shame because it means he's not really connecting with the new audience that was not there for his prime at RBR.

also he had multiple PR oopsies as of recent, for example showing up to this known problematic podcast and laughed at misogynistic jokes about female drivers. he could be spending his time doing PR anywhere else, but what he's doing now is not exactly working.

so yeah, that got a bit long but really, daniel is just a package of potential that was never really used that well and i wish he got a better PR team to help him rebrand himself to the general public on social media.

#formula 1 #f1