#honestly i was just ruminating this morning

[elexaria]

Does Johnny really not notice anything about how Simon feels about reader and treats her? The man’s not stupid, he has to notice something is up eventually.

Also, does Simon really not see anything good in her? Johnny got past his walls eventually. There’s gotta be something that gives him pause enough to start thinking about his actions, even a little bit.

(Btw, love your writing! Usually not an angsty girlie but this hits different💕)

thank you! i didnt expect poly!ghoap to pop off but here i am LOL

honestly? i think simon is sly. he pretends everything is all smiles and laughter, will sling is arm around your shoulder when all three of you are chilling on the sofa. he certainly doesn’t complain when he crooks his fingers up into the spongy spot inside of you, teeth gritted as johnny nestles between simon’s burly thighs to pleasure him.

but he just does NOT like you and johnny being alone together, doesn’t like the non-sexual intimacy of it all. he can semi-justify it whenever he thinks about johnny fucking you, cause in his mind its “just sex”. but the bonding time, the laughter— it gets right under his skin. he absolutely cannot handle it.

johnny often thinks he can hear simon’s gravely voice early in the mornings coming from the kitchen— but he just assumes he’s probably on the phone to someone. he has absolutely no reason to suspect anything hostile between you and simon because, well, all three of you are basically glued to the genitals most of the time. why would simon ever shag someone he dislikes? duh!! (man logic)

it’s only when simon and johnny have a conversation late one night about their sexuality. johnny explains how he finally figured out he was fluid in his sexuality when he realised he wasn’t jealous of other guys, he just wanted to bone them. simon’s eyes widen, taking a glance over at johnny. “you what?” he asks, his tone of voice surprised. johnny chuckles, nodding as he flicks off the loose ash from the end of his cigarette. “aye, it’s true. i wanted tae shag the very lads that i thought i hated. turns out, i just fancied the hell outta them.” he laughs, grinning as he nudges simon. “maybe thats why ye were so cold tae me when we first met.”

simon grunts, biting the inside of his lip as he ruminates on that comment. and then a lightbulb slowly churns in his mind. maybe he doesn’t hate you. hate is a strong word, after all.

#elexaria writes #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #poly!ghoap x reader #poly!ghoap smut #poly!ghoap

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE *  assorted (and slightly adapted to suit this meme format) dialogue from the book by casey mcquiston, adjust as necessary

on purpose. i love him on purpose.

i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden.

i'm going to have you offed. you'll never see it coming.

take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.

get in there.

you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state.

before you, i was all right letting everything happen to me.

i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.

sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again?

you've been warned.

he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person.

hey, have i told you lately that you're brave?

i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose.

we're gonna make it work. you and me and history, remember?

if you finish that sentence, i'm gonna spend tonight in jail.

but the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.

i actively wish for the sweet release of death.

yes, good, carry on.

i won't hear a word against it.

we're gonna do it together.

i said you look great, baby!

i meet you in every dream, and when i wake i cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.

i'm so in love i could die.

you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse.

i wonder if it's too late to swan dive off the roof.

i'm learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.

you must invent an entirely new system.

a curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back on.

he's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is.

i've bloody well had it!

we can unpack the ironic symbolism later.

that's beyond our sense of decorum!

i'm not afraid of anything i feel. i'm afraid of saying it. i'm only afraid of what happens when i do.

aw, you do care.

if there's any legacy for me on this earth, i want it to be true.

straight people probably don't spend this much time convincing themselves that they're straight.

the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed.

you are the absolute worst idea i've ever had.

should i tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams?

can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?

what are we even defending here?

history will remember us.

when i sleep, i see you.

i hate this so much.

every person who bears a legacy makes the choice of a partner with whom they will share it with.

we're just gonna fucking fight.

he is my choice.

i can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault.

i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mom.

when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i've just been with you.

i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.

your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.

for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all.

the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing you have ever written me.

i promise you, one day we'll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.

give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.

i want to set myself on fire, but i can't afford for anyone to see me burn.

you see, for me, memories are difficult.

never tell me the odds.

i wish there weren't a wall.

jesus christ, it's like they can see into your soul.

you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you.

i'm finished. i don't care.

god, i want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you.

the whole world watched, and history remembered.

are you quite finished?

just so we're clear. i'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family.

you insane, hopeless romantic little shit.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #writing prompt #askbox meme #rp asks #inbox prompts #inbox prompt #rp inbox meme #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #mcflymemes #red white and royal blue #rwarb #book prompts

[mouschiwrites]

Heyyy:))) I love your wir ihn soo muchhhhh and I wanted to ask if u could write a story Kyle x fem reader so basically she’s like sitting in a park at night and Kyle comes from sport or idk and meets her and they know each other from school and they like think they other one is cool and so they talk and her parents are not home and she can’t come home cause she has no key and that’s why they go to his home and she sleeps at the couche (his parents aren’t home ) but there’s a thunderstorm so she comes to Kyle and they sleep together in his bed ( NOT sexually) just cuddling 😍

Here you are my dove!

Word count: 1k

South Park - Staying at Kyle’s House During a Storm

You crossed your arms, huffing. You watched your breath—coming out as steam in the cold—float and fade into oblivion. Man, what am I going to do…

You were snapped out of your rumination at the sound of your name. You turned around to see Kyle Broflovski, a boy from your school, approaching the picnic table you were sitting at.

“Y/n, right?” He confirmed, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s my name. And you’re Kyle, right?”

He nodded with a little grin. “We have a few classes together, I think.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re the one who always knows the answer to every question. Honestly, I'm a little jealous,” you chuckled.

“Really? Most people just think I'm a nerd for that.”

“I think it’s cool.”

“Thanks, I guess. You’re pretty cool too.”

Then, glancing at the setting sun, he asked: “What are you doing out so late? It’ll be dark soon.”

You sighed. “I’m locked out of my place. My parents are on vacation and I completely forgot to get my key before they locked the house.”

Kyle hummed, going quiet. You fell back into your thoughts. Maybe I have enough money for a crummy motel or someth—

“You could come to my place,” Kyle suggested.

“Huh? Oh, I could never—I mean, I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.”

Kyle waved his hand dismissively. You weren’t sure if it was just the cold, but you swore his cheeks went a bit pink. “It’s not a big deal. You could crash on the couch.”

You were about to decline again, but you noticed dark clouds churning on the horizon, and suddenly you were inclined to accept.

Luckily Kyle’s house wasn’t too far from the park. On the way there he entertained you with a rather humorous story from after-school tutoring. Apparently, the guy he was tutoring chewed his pen so hard that it exploded, dyeing his whole mouth black.

You giggled, imagining with pity the poor kid brushing his teeth relentlessly when he got home.

When you reached Kyle’s house, you decided to return the favor with a story of your own while you both sat on the couch. It just so happened that Kyle’s mother was in the kitchen as you told the story, and it tickled her so well that she came in to introduce herself. Learning about your predicament, she was more than glad to have you over for the night, and even invited you to eat dinner with the family.

Needless to say, the evening went quite well. When it was finally time to turn in for the night, Mrs. Broflovski piled you with so many quilts that you didn’t think you’d be able to move until morning. You could see Kyle trying not to laugh from where he stood in the stairwell. You shot him a discreet playful glare, which earned a little smirk from him as he turned to go to his own room.

You couldn’t have been asleep for longer than two hours when a soft hiss woke you up. It seemed that the rain clouds you saw earlier were fulfilling their promise of a storm; the hiss was coming from the shower outside.

You wriggled under the quilts, repositioning yourself before trying to get back to sleep.

A loud boom rattled you suddenly, and your eyes flew open. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you desperately heaved yourself out from your cozy entrapment and dashed up the stairs. You didn’t even think; you just ran, and in a moment you found yourself in Kyle’s room.

He was already awake, propped up on his elbows while he looked at his window. His head turned when you entered.

“What’s up?” He rasped sleepily.

“Th-the storm,” you stammered, quivering with adrenaline.

“Yeah, it’s getting crazy out there.” Then, realizing what you probably meant, he asked if you were afraid of it.

You nodded vigorously.

Kyle looked at the window, contemplating. “You wanna stay in here?” He was grateful that you couldn’t see the color on his face in the darkness.

You nodded again, a little slower. You looked around for a blanket, planning to sleep on the floor beside Kyle’s bed, but you were surprised to see him sit up fully and scoot towards the wall. He patted the mattress beside him.

You hesitated, but a flash of lightning made you lunge under the covers. You clapped your hands over your ears, already dreading the horrible noise.

Kyle was readjusting the blankets when the crash of thunder reverberated through the house. Small yips escaped both of you, and at the same time you grabbed each other.

With Kyle’s arms around you, and your hands clasping the fabric on his chest, you were both frozen, anticipating the next boom. You didn’t even have time to be embarrassed at this sudden intimate display; less than ten seconds later, another rumbling boom sounded.

You stayed like that for a long time, squeezing anxiously together, moving ever so slightly closer at each noise. You weren’t sure when exactly, but eventually you fell asleep.

When you woke up in the gray morning light, the first thing you noticed was the silence; more specifically, the absence of the hissing rain. You breathed a sleepy sigh of relief. The storm was over.

The next thing you noticed was the pajama shirt that your face was mushed into. You stared at it blankly as you tried to recall whose it might be.

“You awake?” The cracking morning voice of Kyle Broflovski filled your ears. Your face instantly went ten shades darker.

“Um, yeah.”

Kyle hummed, letting out a slow breath that seemed to show that he was still half-asleep himself. You pushed away a little, but his arms tightened around you.

“No, not yet. You’re warm.”

So are you. You thought assentingly, deciding that it couldn’t hurt to lay like this a little longer. At least until Mrs. Broflovski called you down for breakfast.

“Hey, Kyle?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Staying with me.”

“Oh. No biggie.”

“Still.”

He didn’t respond; he had fallen back asleep. With an amused smile and pinkness lingering on your cheeks, you decided to follow his example.

Thank you for this request! And thanks for reading, have a good one loves <33

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 12)

Links:

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

- - - - - - - - - -

The past few days at Pacific Deskmate High School have been more or less an improvement over the first two. But despite somehow becoming friends with a perthean, I've been struggling more than ever to hide my fear.

On Secandday, Derrick dropped his Biology textbook right beside me on his desk! All I could do was stand there, adrenaline flooding through my system as I ruminated on how easily I could have been crushed. Would he have even noticed if the book landed right on top of me? Was he trying to kill me? Honestly, it wouldn't be hard at all for him to drop a book like that on me and make my death look like an accident...

On Sirdday, he poked me in the middle of Algebra to ask if I had written down a certain formula before the teacher cleared the whiteboard. I'm not sure whether or not he was trying to be gentle, but the force of that unexpected poke was enough to send me into a spiral about how he could easily pin me down with nothing more than a single finger if he wanted to.

And on Forsday, after our English lesson on Greek and Latin root words, I was glad to watch him happily ramble away on the subject. It was only when he lifted me up off the desk that I guess he somehow managed to forget he was dealing with a human! He snatched me up so fast, so effortlessly, as if I didn't even weigh a thing! I thought for sure I would be flung across the room! He apologized, so I know he could tell I was scared, and that's not good.

If I were to slip up and reveal to Derrick that I have a fear, it'd ruin our friendship for sure! We'd be worse off than we were at square one! I need to make sure I'm doing whatever it takes to keep this fear hidden from him. I've never let a perthean find out about my fear before, and I don't plan on letting one find out now! Who knows how Derrick would react after finding out about my fear?

Ever since Derrick and I became friends, I've felt guilty for having this fear. I don't want him to think I see him as some kind of monster! But standing here on the balcony, watching him approach me, all I can think about is how much I want to get out of here before it's too late!

I tighten my grip on the balcony railing until my knuckles turn white to keep myself from running away, but that doesn't stop my legs from restlessly fidgeting beneath me. My heart pulsates as I'm covered by Derrick's shadow, and my lungs gasp for more air than I can take in with each shallow, shuddering breath. I need to get away from him!

"Hey, Kaylin!" Derrick says, smiling down at me.

My heart skips a beat as I stare into his big blue eyes, nothing short of terrified at the sight of my perthean friend. I try in vain to back up, my grip on the railing stopping me. I know I can't just run away— that would reveal that I'm afraid. As slowly and as steadily as I can, I take a deep breath and hold the cold surface air in for a moment before setting it free.

"Hi, D-Derrick!" I say, kicking myself for stuttering.

"How are you this morning?" Derrick asks, holding out his index finger for me.

I know I can do this, I've done it before. I release my hands from the balcony railing and carefully wrap my arms around Derrick's finger. It twitches in response to my touch, catching me by surprise. It still blows my mind how something as minute as a twitch to a perthean can translate into a harsh jolt for a human like me!

"I'm good!" I manage to squeak as Derrick lifts me from the balcony. "And you?"

"I'm doing well," he responds with a slight chuckle that I'm almost certain I can feel through his hand as he sets me down in his palm.

Once I'm settled in his hand, Derrick turns and starts heading to our first class. As we're moving along, I find myself staring at the fingers that surround me. They're a bit... close. Too close. Each long, curled digit is about the same length as I am, and about as wide as a tree trunk. A trunk of a human-scaled tree, that is— like we have in the undercity. I don't even want to consider the thought of a being with fingers that would match the width of a perthean-scaled tree! Such a being could easily hold a perthean in their hand the way my deskmate is holding me now...

I watch Derrick's fingers as they curl inward, every second inching closer and closer to where I sit in the center of his palm. My core tightens and my racing heart sinks in my chest. Does he realize what he's doing?

Without warning, each massive extremity begins to slowly wrap around me. I let out a gasp. What's he doing?! I look up at Derrick as his grip on me tightens. He's... smiling?!

My insides churn upon seeing a twisted smile plastered across my deskmate's face, and narrowed brown eyes that show no signs of mercy. My heartbeat rings in my ears as I squirm between the fingers fastened around me in a pathetic attempt to escape from Derrick's unyielding grip on me.

"W-what are you doing?!" I stammer, trembling in my deskmate's clutches.

"What I should have done the moment I first laid eyes on you," he says, letting out a loud, deranged cackle as he tightens his grip on my figure.

As I'm gasping, fighting for air, a sob rises in my throat.

"I-I thought we were friends!" I cry.

My deskmate lifts me close to his eyes. Those narrowed brown eyes... there's something off about them.

"No real perthean would be caught dead befriending a pathetic little weakling like you!"

"P-please!" I beg, tears streaming down my face as I struggle with all my might to escape this perthean's grasp. "D-Don't hurt me!"

"Huh?"

I open my eyes and look up at my deskmate. He's stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at me. His big, blue eyes look to be searching mine for some kind of explanation to what must have sounded like quite a perplexing remark.

Blue...! I knew his eyes were blue!

I look at my surroundings. I'm in Derrick's open palm, and his fingers are only bended toward me slightly. I look at myself. One of my legs is curled inward, and the other is stretched out as if I tried to scoot backwards. Oh no. What happened here?

"Kaylin?" Derrick says as he lifts me closer to his face, his eyes filled with concern. "Don't what?"

"I-I—" I stutter.

I stare into Derrick's eyes, my heart sinking further in my chest with each rapid beat. I can't think of anything to say! He's bound to realize I have a fear now!

"Don't... don't forget there's an English quiz today!" I blurt out.

Really?! That's all I could think to say?!

"Oh, is that all?" Derrick says with a chuckle. "I could have sworn..."

I resist the urge to curl up into a ball with all my might as I quake in my deskmate's hand. Is he about to call me out?

"Nah, it's nothing. Nevermind," he says, continuing the walk to our first class.

That was close. Too close.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Brittney huffs and puffs down the hall with the neon pink and orange lunchbox she retrieved from her locker after gym. Even after cool-down, showering, and changing back into our regular uniforms, I'm surprised to see her still struggling to catch her breath.

"Hey," I say, coming alongside her after we reach the cafeteria. "Good running today."

"Thanks!" She laughs. "Running always takes it out of me, but knowing lunch was coming was enough to keep me going!"

We sit down together at an empty table and take out our lunch. I unwrap what I'm decently sure is a turkey and swiss sandwich and take a bite. Brittney takes out a thermos and a grilled cheese.

"Grilled cheese again?" I ask.

"I guess so. What's the note of the day?" Brittney asks.

I'd completely forgotten to check for a note from Dad. I rummage around the brown paper bag in front of me and pull out a note. This one says:

What is a geode without its crystals, an oyster without its pearl?

So it is with a person's heart.

- Zenara

"Wow," Brittney says. "I didn't think your Dad was one to quote Zenara."

"He found one of my mom's old poetry books when we were moving and has been flipping through it over the past few days," I say, setting the scrap of paper down on the table. "I'll probably be getting more notes like this."

"So..." Brittney says, folding her hands together and propping her chin on top of them. "Speaking of looking into people's hearts, how are things going with Derrick?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, befuddled.

Brittney rolls her eyes. "You know, seeing him for how he is on the inside in spite of how he appears on the outside! Like the quote?"

"So that's what that means?" I say, looking back to the note. I've never really been one for poetry— it usually goes right over my head. I figured it was the same with Dad, and especially Brittney.

"Anyway, spill it! How are you two getting along?" Brittney asks, eyes wide with anticipation.

"You say that like we're dating or something!"

"You know what I mean, girl, now spill!"

"Well," I sigh, "things are going... well, they're going."

Brittney pouts. "Come on, you know I want more than that!"

"Okay, fine, fine!" I say, waving my hands. I stare at my sandwich in contemplation. "Ever since we became friends... I've felt guilty for having a fear. And not only that, it's been getting harder to hide it!"

"Go on," Brittney says, her brows turning upward.

"I guess it's only a matter of time before Derrick finds out about my fear. And after that, I'm not so sure he'll want to stay friends with me."

"Why not?" Brittney asks.

"I mean— who would want to be friends with someone who only thinks of them as some kind of monster that's out to get them?" I rest my cheek on my hand in defeat. "Maybe I should just tell him I have a fear and get it over with. That way, at least I'll know how he feels, and if he doesn't want to be friends anymore then it'll hurt less now than it would if he found out later on."

"I-I wouldn't do that!" Brittney blurts out.

"What?"

"I-I mean, normally I'd tell you to be honest, but Derrick..." Brittney trails off, looking down into her soup.

What's she going on about?

"Brittney, what about Derrick?" I ask.

Brittney shakes her head. "Nothing. It's nothing. What I mean to say is... I don't think telling him outright that you have a fear would be the best idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, some pertheans don't really know how to act around humans who are afraid of them. For some, it might get to them."

My insides twist. "Are you saying Derrick is like that? Would he really be hurt to find out about my fear?"

"Well..." Brittney says, averting her gaze. "All I'm saying is I wouldn't tell him if I were you. Derrick is... sensitive."

I know Brittney's known Derrick much longer than I have. If she says I shouldn't tell him about my fear, I'm inclined to trust her judgment. I just can't help but wonder... what isn't she saying?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, what are you up to this weekend?" Brittney asks as we approach the spot on the balcony where we've been meeting up with the boys.

"I don't know, I might try my hand at gardening. We found one of those indoor planters when we were going through our stuff before the move."

"Ooh!" Brittney says, clapping. "Gardening! I've always wanted to try! Especially since the undercity is so void of greenery compared to above ground."

"After that, Dad and I will probably watch Stranded together," I say, wondering how much we need to catch up on before Restday night's new episode.

Brittney's eyes get wide and she grabs onto both of my arms. "Did you say... did you say Stranded?!"

"Um... yeah?" I say as I look down at the hands gripping my arms, her grip a bit too tight for my liking.

"I. Love. Stranded. It's like, my favorite show ever!" She gasps. "Do you read fanfiction?! I'm working on this one story about Jack and Merlot— I should totally send it over to you!"

"Hey guys!" my deskmate says.

Dread fills the air, and a burning anxiety creeps up my spine. My legs quake, and I nearly trip over them as I leap behind Brittney to shield myself from this perthean boy. This perthean boy... who's supposed to be my friend. I realize I shouldn't be hiding from Derrick, especially since I don't want him to find out about my fear— but no matter what I do, I can't seem to stop myself from shaking uncontrollably like a cold, wet puppy!

"Kaylin? Are you—" Derrick starts.

Brittney laughs. "If you think this is bad, you should have seen her this morning when I snuck up on her with a hug!"

What? Brittney didn't do that! I didn't even see her today until it was time for gym! I look at Brittney, and she looks back at me. She winks.

"Ha, ha... yeah," I say, slowly coming out from behind my friend. I fold my hands together in front of me, all the while trying my hardest to suppress my unrelenting trembling.

I look up at Derrick, who stares right back at me with a blank expression. He hums flatly. Does he buy it?

"Well, I'm not sure where Kevin went, but Kaylin and I should probably be getting to Biology," Derrick says. "Are you okay waiting by yourself?"

"Yeah," Brittney says. "Kevin's a slacker. I'm used to it by now. You guys go on ahead!"

A knot forms in my throat as Derrick lifts his index finger and places it in front of me. With how many times we've had to do this so far, even today alone, shouldn't I be used to this by now? I try to be discreet about wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, and then manage to wrap my arms around Derrick's finger in spite of the sinking, spiraling feeling in my gut.

"Have fun, you two!" Brittney calls out as Derrick lifts me from the balcony.

I expect Derrick to say something in turn, but he remains silent. He places me in his palm and turns to head to our Biology class. He remains silent the whole trip there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our Koronian class has nearly passed us by, and Derrick has barely spoken a word to me since the incident at the balcony before Biology. I try to focus on the lesson being taught, but the history of adjectives in the Koronian language fails to occupy my brain as much as my anxiety does.

Does he know I have a fear? Is he mad at me? Does he think I see him as a monster? Does he still want to be friends with me, or is he thinking about some way to go about telling me how inconsiderate it is to have a fear of pertheans? What if he hates me? What if we end up being stuck in an even more awkward relationship than what we had when we first met? What if he doesn't want to be deskmates anymore?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Derrick's notetaking. I know he loves languages, so I was sure he'd be taking as many notes about Koronian as possible during class. What I find odd, though, is that I haven't heard him write anything down until now. After a few seconds of pencil scratching, he goes silent again.

I try to take my focus off of Derrick and keep it on the teacher, but just as I tune back into the lesson, his notebook slides into my peripheral vision. Do I dare look? I pretend I don't see the notebook and shift my focus away from Derrick. After a moment, he slides the notebook closer to me. As worried as I am, I can't help but wonder what he wants to tell me. I hesitate, but take the bait and read the note presented to me.

Are you afraid of me?

Hot blood rushes to my cheeks, and my heart pounds against my ribcage. My whole frame trembles as I turn my head to the shaking hands in my lap. He knows.

I try to steady my quivering breaths. I can't let myself panic. Not now. Not in the middle of this class, not in front of all these pertheans... not in front of Derrick. We're so close to the end of the schoolday. All I have to do is sit through the rest of Koronian, get to the balcony, and go home! He'll forget all about this tomorrow, and I'll have a better chance to hide my fear then.

Derrick taps his notebook, drawing my attention back to it. Why is he so insistent? He underlines the question he wrote with his pencil. He's not going to be satisfied without an answer, is he?

I stare down at my own notebook laying atop my desk. What should I do? Should I answer? Should I try to continue ignoring him? How long can I keep this up?

As I'm lost in contemplation again, a large, warm surface presses against my back, poking me. That's it. I scrawl down a response in my notebook.

Why are you so insistent on me answering this question?

I can't keep from trembling as I push my notebook to the side of my desk. Derrick leans over in his seat. He's so close! I try to take deep breaths in and out, but my constant shuddering makes my breathing anything but smooth.

Derrick sits back in his seat. Silence. Maybe he'll finally leave me alone. Just as I begin to let my shoulders droop and my muscles relax, I hear it again: the scratching of Derrick's pencil against paper. A few seconds later, he pushes his notebook back into my view.

Why are you so insistent on not answering this question?

He just won't let it go! What should I say?! What should I do?!

Brittney said I shouldn't tell Derrick about my fear because he's 'sensitive.' But what was it she didn't tell me? What's going to happen if I'm honest with Derrick? Should I lie?

Derrick underlines the question again.

Are you afraid of me?

My heart sinks, weighing me down, and there's an aching unease deep in my inner core. Do I tell him? Can I tell him? I stare at my notebook as anxiety creeps up my back and threatens to choke me. Hands trembling and barely able to grip my pencil, I write my response and slide my notebook back into Derrick's view.

I'm sorry.

He's quick to scribble down a response.

You're sorry?

I don't think and simply let my pencil glide along my paper. I slide over my answer:

I'm sorry that I'm afraid of you.

I sit in my anxiety, nervously awaiting Derrick's inevitable reply. What will he say now? Will he call me a coward? A bigot? Would he call me... a tiny?

Silence. He must be satisfied with my answer. I just hope things aren't awkward for us after class. I rub my legs to keep them from jumping up and down under my desk, and return my focus to the teacher.

Scribbling. It's quiet at first, then harsh. There's the sound of an eraser rubbing the paper, followed by more harsh scribbling. I clench my fists as tears prick the edges of my eyes. He's really going to let me have it, isn't he? My heartbeat, oddly enough, slows down as I think through what must be in store for me. Deep down, he's no different than that man, is he? Merciless. Unforgiving. Cruel. No perthean could ever be understanding when someone thinks of them as a monster, could they?

Derrick slides his notebook back over. Blinking back tears, I brace for impact, breathing in and out, and turn to see what it is he's penned.

Let me help you.

What? What's he talking about? He's not going to let me have it? I hesitate before looking back at Derrick as apprehensively as ever. He's... smiling.

"What?" I whisper.

He points to what he wrote on the page, and looks back at me. I spin back around in my seat, my mind buzzing with questions. What does he mean? Is that even possible? Is he joking? I pull my notebook back towards myself and start writing. Once I'm finished writing, I push my notebook back into Derrick's view.

What are you talking about?

Again, he doesn't hesitate, but writes his response swiftly.

Are you free to meet behind the school after class?

An uneasiness creeps up from my gut and into my throat. I gulp. He wants to meet after school? What does this mean? Is he serious, or does he have something more sinister in mind? I stare at my hands in my lap. What should I do?

I turn around and look Derrick in the eyes. As he smiles at me, his wide blue eyes seem to smile, too. I have no idea what to say, and I can barely breathe! He looks at me with anticipation. Almost as if to ask, 'Well? What do you say?'

I nod. I have no idea what I'm supposed to expect, but at this point, what do I have left to lose? Derrick laughs softly as he continues smiling at me.

"Mr. Drake and Miss Finch!" the teacher says, raising her voice and catching Derrick and I by surprise. "Is there something the two of you would like to share with the rest of the class?"

I turn back around in my seat, my heart fluttering and my cheeks as hot as ever.

"No, m'am!" Derrick and I both exclaim.

I try to focus on the lesson again, but all that comes to mind is my deskmate. Really, what could he possibly mean by helping me? And what did I just sign up for?

#too small to be afraid #tstba #perthea #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #I'm still working on the conlang for this book and the days of the week are based on numbers 1-5 then “rest day” #the idea is that the days of the week were translated into English a long time ago and then the spelling and pronunciation morphed #due to influence from the Koronian language #BUT ANYWAY #THINGS HAPPEN IN THIS CHAPTER AAAAAAAAHHHHH #It's getting to the really good part!!! I hope you all enjoy!!!

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 2- "You're in my head..."

The beginning two weeks on tour were spent in the city of London, which I easily grewattached to. For the first handful of days, I fell into a comfortable routine of simplicity- I’d wake with Sam, have breakfast in the hotel with the rest of the band (avoid Oliver); set my sights on a few attractions; spend time in Hyde Park, catching up on my reading list; then return to the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner with Sam and the band. Most often, Oliver wasn’t there for those evening meals, said to be off somewhere, writing music, or having a smoke (thank God). I didn’t see him much outside of those breakfasts considering I was always off doing something and he had rehearsals. And I honestly liked it that way.

During the first two weeks in London, I tried to be nice to Oliver. I’d greet him every day at breakfast with a kind smile, a gentle, “Good morning, Oliver.” And he’d just ignore me. None of the others really considered it, or else I think they’d have said something to him. It was subtle enough that I could only ruminate over it in silence.

But, boy, did I notice the shitty behavior he exhibited towards me, that when I’d laugh too loudly at Max’s jokes or start up a conversation- breathe, basically- Oliver’s shoulders would tense. He’d sigh, just soft enough that I could hear it across the table. And, he’d become distant from the group, eyes glazed over, silent. If someone- other than me- said something to him, he’d respond. But, God forbid he say anything on his own accord.

From what I gathered, he had gotten to know me and, I guess, he just didn’t like me. Why he had covered up the time we had spent together on the roof, I did not know. Why he felt the need to completely ignore me- I really just didn’t understand it. And I didn’t think I wanted to. I was having the time of my life, catching matinees on the West End, spending time in the Natural History Museum, riding the London Eye. I wasn’t going to play cat and mouse or sparring enemies during this time in my life.

Usually, at least, back home, I was always too nervous to go out by myself, afraid I’d see family friends or exes I was trying to avoid. Here, I didn’t have to worry about that. I was a whole new person- a whole new woman. I could go anywhere, do anything, be whoever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely sometimes, shopping or discovering new coffee shops all by myself. But, it was healing, too. I was learning to enjoy my own company.

At the beginning of the second week, however, I had run out of things to do. Due to my newfound luck, rehearsals had ended for the band Saturday, and they had the week off- save for Friday, when they’d perform, and the weekend, when we’d be heading up to Newcastle for the next show. But for now, Sam had an open schedule.

We toured the city together for a few days, spending more time together in those short hours than we had in nearly five years. We had a pretty close relationship, but due to our conflicting schedules and busy lives, it was rare that we found space to be with each other like this. It was cathartic- catching late lunches together, touring museums, art galleries, tourist attractions. Mom would’ve really loved to be there with us, in such a dream city, and I know we both held that thought close to our hearts for the entire week.

I didn’t attend their concert that weekend, involved with my own plans. I wanted to come see them perform at some point, but I almost wanted to spite Oliver by not going, too. It was, after all, his band, his music. So, instead, I planned on going to a local dive bar that was holding an open mic night. In such a vast, diverse city, I was sure to find fun there.

That morning, though, at breakfast, I almost changed my plans.

I sat down beside Sam, a plate of toast and eggs in my hands. Max looked up from his phone, where he had been texting someone, and grinned at me, “Morning, lovely. Sleep okay?’’

I nodded appreciatively, “I’ve gotten used to the time change already.”

“Just wait,” Sam stabbed at his stack of pancakes. “Italy is in a week. It’ll fuck you up again.”

“Oh, it’s worth it. I’ve gotten to do so much these past two weeks. It’s insane.”

Cy took a sip of his coffee before adding in, “Oh, to see London through the eyes of a tourist. I’m sure it’s nothing short of magical.”

“Gonna have a hard time leaving, that’s for sure,” I bit off a piece of toast as I replied.

Oliver and Adam joined us now, Adam rattling off some guitar notes to the singer. Their conversation was just background noise to ours, as Sam then spoke to me, brushing his hands free of crumbs from his toast, “Listen, I have your stage pass in my bag. You have to wear it to get into the venue or go backstage, okay? Don’t lose it. I won’t be able to check my phone much today, so I can’t help you out if you do.”

I looked up from my plate, a guilty frown settling into my face, “Oh. Um…I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m gonna go tonight.”

Everyone turned their attention to me fully, even Oliver, though he seemed to look past my head, avoiding my eyes. Their expressions weren’t necessarily confused, but wondorous, curiously surprised by my declaration.

“You’re not coming?” Max asked, his tone a bit hurt.

I shrugged slowly, “I’m so sorry. I had plans to go out. But, I can- I can always change them-?”

“No, don’t do that,” Cyrus waved me off, defending my choice, “you’re allowed to do your own thing. You’re not obligated to come see us.”

“I mean, I will…eventually. I just…there’s so much I wanna do, ya know?” I stuttered a bit, my face flushed from my guilt. I knew they weren’t mad, but I felt like I was letting them down.

Max pouted as he crossed his arms, “So, we’re just not as important, love? I see how it is. Here I thought we had something special.”

“I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll come to a show sometime. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedu-” I chuckled slightly through my words to make the point that I was being sarcastic. But, then, someone interrupted me.

Everyone glanced at Oliver as he stood, chair scraping against the ground. He was pulling a cigarette from an emptying pack, balancing it between his lips. Then, he walked, so quickly, yet so casually, away from our table, towards the exit.

“Even Ollie’s hurt,” Max pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.

Funny thing is, I don’t think Max was too far off with his observation. Why else had Oliver stormed off like a child, leaving a full plate of food where he had been sitting?

-

Our first travel day was hectic. We had to wake up, bright and early Saturday morning, in order to board the tour buses waiting outside of the hotel. I was a little nervous to spend the next two days inside of the vehicle, eating, sleeping, and basically living within its confines.

But then it came easy. I slept in late, finding my bunk to be a lot more comfortable than it looked. Cy had joined our bus for that first morning, he and Sam working on some drum rhythm for a new song, or something of the sort. On our bus, too, was Ronnie, Sam’s close friend- he insisted- the band’s tour manager, whom I was growing to love.

She was all tattoos, colored hair, and bad-ass energy. She swore like a sailor, said whatever came to mind, and treated the boys like stupid little teenagers. I loved it. I found myself giggling at everything she said, especially when the boys would be too loud at a gas station, and she’d scold them. Whenever Oliver would grace us with his presence on these outings, he’d glare at my laughter, as per usual.

Anyways, I think I was a difficult pill for Ronnie to swallow at first, being so feminine in comparison to her more masculine demeanor. But, we began to really bond that first afternoon on the bus.

While Cy and Sam occupied the back room, drum pads rattling beneath their sticks, Ronnie and I took up the couches towards the front of the bus. I had just gone out for a cup of tea, hoping it would wake me up and encourage me to read or something. Instead, I ended up playing countless rounds of Mario Kart with Ronnie. I was never really into video games, but playing with her was so fun, and we just couldn’t stop. She teased me for being such an amateur, for choosing Princess Peach when she played as Bowser.

But, then we got to talking- about my favorite Taylor Swift songs, ex-boyfriends, childhood trauma. She was wise beyond her years and a comforting, womanly presence to have.

“Sam told me a little bit, but I never got the full picture. What are you going to school for?”

I glanced over at her, nearly crashing my kart because of the sharp corner I had to cut. “Oh, yeah, um…counseling. To get my LPC, so I can practice.”

“A woman in STEM,” she nodded slowly, a slight smile on her face. Her eyes were focused on the tv screen, but they held a glint of humor. “Hey, I respect it. That’s a difficult job. You like it so far?”

“I liked undergrad,” I shrugged. “I’m kind of scared about my master’s, though.”

She elbowed me softly, in an attempt to offer up some semblance of encouragement, “Don’t be. You’re not dumb. You’ll figure it out.” She was the type of person to not really compliment others, so it was sweet that she was trying for me, someone she barely even knew.

“Thank you,” I grinned over at her as our match ended.

She met my eye, fought back the wide smile itching at her face, and rolled her eyes, “Cmon, peaches. I wanna kick your ass on rainbow road.”

We continued on bantering, chatting about whatever came to mind. I knew then that she’d be a rock to turn to this summer, this suspicion exemplified by the fact that she even said she’d listen to one of the songs I mentioned, though she was a metal-lover, through and through. I was becoming like an exception to everyone, a bright, soft spot of sunshine in the black-clothed masses of this touring crew. It was heartwarming to be so beloved, even if no one would say those words directly (besides Max, of course).

So, what if Oliver didn’t like me? All of his fucking friends did.

-

So, things were coming up Daisy. I was making friends- most notably, Max, Cyrus, and Ronnie. Sam was right- Cy was incredibly smart. We spent a lot of time on the bus that weekend- and the next, when we traveled further up England- discussing school, psychological theories, cognitive studies. He knew a lot about a lot and it was stimulating to get to have such intelligent conversations.

Max was a handful, of course. Again, Sam being right- Max loved to flirt with me. I think it got on my brother’s nerves, but I found it to be a fun little game. At breakfast, back in London, he’d greet me every morning with a pleasant grin, a compliment on my hairstyle for the day or my lip stick color.

Of course, it would be followed by, “Would look better on me.” To which, I would laugh hysterically and Sam would try to fling eggs at his boss.

When this particular flirtation had been spent, I glanced around the group, giggling, when my eyes landed on Oliver. He was actually looking up, and at one point, he met my eyes. My bright grin did not falter, not until his lingering stare turned into a roll in his eyes. He looked back down at his phone and I decided then and there that I would not spend another minute ruminating on him and his negative energy.

Adam and I got along, but we weren’t super compatible, which I didn’t mind. Not everyone always matched with one another. We shared pleasant greetings and didn’t mind sitting next to each other at breakfast. He seemed to just keep to himself most of the time, anyways. Not that he didn’t spend time with the group. He just- was quiet, reserved.

We’d finished up the tour dates scheduled in England during those first three weeks. It had felt like a year long journey but, in reality, they’d only performed about six concerts in that time. We still had two and a half months to go. I was elated. Time on the bus was relaxing, passing by quicker than I thought it would. Though Cy’s bunk was on the other bus, he spent most of his time with us, with Sam. Max would even bus hop, opting for group movie nights with us or games of poker. We sometimes roped Adam into it, but Oliver never budged. His band mates would call him lame, tease him for being such a n introvert, but gave up once he’d roll his eyes at them.

I wondered how they put up with his shitty attitude all the time. It must be frustrating, this annoyance only made worse by the fact that he was so fucking talented. I refused to listen to their music anymore than what Sam had already shown because I just didn’t want to give Oliver the satisfaction, even if he wouldn’t know about it.

IdontcareIdontcareIdontcare. I had to remind myself that a lot.

The next two stops were in Italy, where we’d be for just a week and a half. The evening before we boarded the plane that would take us there, however, we all decided to get out for a big dinner. It was the first time I’d really be hanging with the entire group, outside of our bus and hotel breakfasts. I wanted to look good, knowing they were used to seeing me in sweats, hoodies, jeans, so I spent a bit of time getting myself ready.

Sam barely dressed up, opting for jeans and a nicer jumper, black Vans a staple to all his outfits. I picked out one of the nicer dresses I’d packed, blush pink, with a square neckline, sheer long sleeves, and a length that cut off above my mid-thigh. I wore my black platform boots, gold jewelry, and did my hair up in this silk bow I had purchased back in London. This was the first time on this trip that I felt really good about how I looked. Oliver’s burning hatred for me only made me more insecure than I already was. Not tonight.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting me, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I opened the bathroom door, my boots noisy on the carpeted floor. A sweet smile came across his face. He slid his phone into his pocket and stood to take me in. His head tilted to the side.

“What?” I rubbed my hands down the front of my dress, feeling overanalyzed by his gaze.

“I don’t tell you enough Daz, but you’re beautiful,” Sam nodded, just once. Usually, I’d make fun of him for being so cheesy, so affectionate. But, this summer was bonding us more.

Instead, I grinned at my brother, but still reached out to playfully punch his arm. “Thanks, Sam-Ham.”

“Hey, you’ve done pretty well at not using that so far. Think the guys forgot about that one time.” We headed for the door now, back on our bantering like usual.

I shrugged at his comment, countering with, “Maybe I should remind them of it, then.”

Sam held the door open for me, but, as I said those words, he tried to shove it close on my moving body. I yelped at the impact and then dug my heels into the carpet as I pushed back against his weight. He laughed, heartily, before giving up on shutting me in. Because I was pushing so hard, I toppled out into the hallway, breathless, nearly falling on my face. Sam caught my shoulders and pushed me back on my feet.

As I looked up, I saw Oliver, standing outside of his own room, a quiet smile on his face. He had been observing our antics, passively, with an amused glint in his eye. I grinned back at him, my stupid heart feeling hopeful for some semblance of a spark to catch between us. As if he realized it was my eyes he was looking into, he turned his head.

But, then, just as quickly as he peeled his gaze away, he put it back on me. On my boots, fiery brown eyes dragging themselves up my body. They lingered over the curve of my hips, the peaks of my breasts, my glossy lips and, then, my eyes. He seemed to smirk at me, flashed his eyes, then turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

Sam hadn’t noticed the longing gaze Oliver burned into me because Ronnie was approaching us from down the hall. She didn’t really go to breakfast or dinner with us because she was always on the move. But, luckily, she was able to make it out tonight. And, whenever Ronnie was around, Sam was more than distracted.

I was too focused on Oliver, myself, staring at his retreating back with a slack jaw. Goosebumps littered the skin exposed on my chest, my legs, a chemical reaction eliciting itself from his burning eyes. What the fuck was that? I knew, deep in my soul, that I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was literally just a stupid man, and I was dressed in little to no clothing. As long as a vagina had legs, men would fuck the most insufferable of women. That was just it- right?

I didn’t have time to focus on my own racing thoughts, however, because Ronnie was talking to me now, teasing me about my dress, which I knew, for her, was just a hidden compliment.

“Jesus, it’s like Princess Peach in real life,” she chuckled, eyeing me up.

I turned to the two of them, licking my lips as if to snap myself out of my lucid trance. “Huh? Oh…uh- insert funny Princess Peach line,” I shook my hands around, forcing a smile upon my face, as I tried to banter back.

“Something like, ‘save me, Mario!”’ Sam mocked the character in a high-pitched voice.

This finally distracted my brain enough. Ronnie and I shared a humorously surprised expression, eyed Sam, before bursting out into laughter.

“That was fucking terrible!” Ronnie exclaimed, smacking Sam in the bicep. “I loved it.”

We made our way to the elevator, still teasing Sam for his terrible impression. He tried to save himself by acting like Mario, but that was just another train wreck, in and of itself.

“I’m-a sorry! Please-a forgive me-a!” He lifted his arms in a strange manner as he made another horrid impression. Ronnie held a finger up to her lips, “No, no. Shhhhhh…no, just…no.” I giggled into my hand.

We were supposed to meet the others down in the lobby, where we would take a pair of taxis down the street to some five-star restaurant the boys had recommended. I was lucky to have saved up so much at my job back home, to be able to do stuff like this all summer. I don’t think I’d ever been to such a fancy place before. I was more than excited.

When we stepped off the elevator, we spotted our group by the front doors. Max was in a sweater, jeans, hands stuffed in his pockets as he spoke to Adam, who was also dressed nicer than normal. He looked over the guitarist's shoulder as the elevator dinged and spotted me immediately. Max gawked at the sight. He interrupted his band mate’s conversation in order to whistle. I flushed red, eyes rolling, though I secretly appreciated all the attention I was garnering with this little outfit.

“Oh, my god,” Ronnie murmured to herself, pressing a hand to her forehead as though he was stressing her out. She and Sam moved off, out of the way, as Max approached.

He brushed past Adam, looking me up and down. He reached out for my hands, taking my fingers in his large hold. He lifted my arms up, as if to get a better examination of me. “Love, you look fucking gorgeous!”

I shook my head, grinning at the compliments, and it ruffled my hair over my shoulders. It drew Max’s attention to my intricate hairstyle. He moved his hand to touch my neck, softly, and turned my head to admire the hairstyle.

“Wow, love, just; wow!” Max appreciated me some more, settling a blush across my cheeks.

Then, he pulled me to stand beside him, looping my hand through his arm, laying it around his bicep. “Come on, love; you’re my date for this evening. Yeah?”

“Sure,” I patted his bicep. “Whatever you say.”

Max groaned, head tilted back, eyes shut. “Don’t say that! That’s dangerous-“

“Watch your fucking mouth!” Sam called from his spot beside Ronnie, a finger pointed warningly at Max. I hung my head, giggles falling from my mouth. Ronnie looked amused at the confrontation.

Max raised his own hand in defense, “Okay, okay. I’ll even admit that one was a little…out there.” Sam nodded firmly with a disapproving smile. Max tilted his head down towards me, his expression more polite now, words close to my ear. “Sorry, love.”

I leaned into his arm, winking slightly, “Don’t be. I liked it.”

“Oh! That’s my girl,” Max tapped my nose sweetly.

I was on top of the world. I looked good- even Oliver thought so- I felt good. I was in the most beautiful country, surrounded by people I was forming tightly-knit relationships with. Nothing could ruin my elated mood.

I didn’t even care that Ronnie, Sam, and Adam had piled into the one taxi, leaving Max, Oliver, Cy, and I to share the other. I didn’t care that I’d have to share such a small space with the most insufferable man in the world.

Cy chose to sit up front, cutting off Oliver, who had most definitely been headed in that direction. Cy didn’t notice, though. His action was sacrificial for everyone else, not intentionally manipulative towards his band mate. Oliver, however, seemed to take it to heart, frowning deeply at the rejection and fisting his hand into his hoodie pocket.

I watched all this occur as Max opened the door to the taxi, helping me inside the back seat. “You okay in the middle?” He asked, head dipped inside the vehicle.

I nodded, “No worries.” I only realized after I saw Oliver round the car that this meant I’d be sitting flush against him.

I didn’t care. Though my face flushed with anticipatory anxiety, I didn’t care. I didn’t care- was that his cologne in the air- nope. Don’t care.

Max piled in, softly shutting the door behind him, leg and shoulder pressed up against my own. I buckled myself in just as Oliver opened the door. I tried to offer a sweet smile, still choosing kindness over returning his awful behavior. He didn’t mirror any gesture in return. My smile faltered.

No. I wouldn’t let him ruin this for me. Tonight was going to be fun, whether he wanted it to be or not. If he chose to sulk in my presence, then that was his problem. I shook my shoulders about, basically shaking him off of me. Though, it would be my problem during the car ride. He slid into the seat next to me and I swear I could feel his negative energy fill up the car. Besides, he was tall, legs and arms long, shoulders wide. I know he was trying to shove himself up against the door, but he couldn’t just not touch me. His thigh was warm against mine, his shoulder tense. I leaned into Max to try to give him more space, but that was unfair to him.

The bassist shifted in return, looking down at me, apologetic for thinking he had taken up too much space, “Sorry, love.”

“S’okay,” I looked away from Oliver, focusing my attention on the road before us as the driver pulled out of the parking lot. I tried to sink into myself. But, I was still flush against either man.

I could smell Oliver’s cologne, too. It was sweet, musky. It overwhelmed my senses. Though I tried to process Max and Cy’s blossoming conversation, appeal myself to them and only them, all I could think about was Oliver. How he smelled. The curve of his thigh.

Oliver’s large hand on his knee, slender fingers curved over top of the limb. Oliver’s chest, in the corner of my eye, moving up and down slowly, in a controlled rhythm of breathing. Oliver’s scent, so strong to my senses, so…distracting. He smelled so damn good.

I shifted in my seat again. My thigh pressed up against his more. I squeezed my legs together to avoid his, but there wasn’t enough room. I glanced at him, an apologetic smile on my lips.

He looked down at me, lips pursed slightly. I held his eyes for a moment, trying to read his expression. Just as I went to turn my head away, his eyes dipped down, over the peaks of my breast again.

Okay, he was not helping the situation. The way he looked more over was just making him seem more attractive to my stupid brain.

I flushed, skin spotting with color from the red blush. I took a deep breath, chest rising and falling as I tried to control the heat in my body. I saw from the corner of my eye that Oliver was still staring at me. He shifted this time, tugging his hoodie down his belt. I furrowed my brows at the movement, flicking my eyes over his lap, where the hem of his jacket had now settled. Oliver coughed, large hand holding the edge of his hoodie down over where he had moved it to. I did a double-take, realizing after a moment what that meant.

He had a boner.

He had a boner because of me.

Oliver had a boner because of me.

Oh, God.

I couldn’t think straight. I clutched the edge of my dress, knuckles white from the pressure in them. My chest only fell faster, breathing short, goosebumps littering my flushed skin again. I could feel Oliver look over at me, over and over. He just couldn’t look away. He shifted countless more times, thigh pushing against mine. It sprouted a wildfire across my skin.

I didn’t want to play games, but he was making it impossible to be the neutral position in this narrative. One day, he hated me, rolling his eyes at my laughter. Then, the next, he’s checking me out, battling a boner in the seat beside me? So, maybe I should just choose a side. Maybe I should play back.

I spread my legs, only a centimeter due to the lack of space I had, pressing my thigh into his more. It was noticeable to him, and him only.

He felt the pressure, eyes dragging down my body to my leg. The hand he still had curved over his leg squeezed his knee cap, knuckles flushing white, like my own. I smirked to myself, though I knew he could see the expression on my face. He let out a breathless huff, as if he was struggling to get air into his lungs.

Eventually, we made it to the restaurant. I continued pushing my leg into his, though he slowly began to cower into the corner of the car, knee turning towards the door. I felt victorious, confident in the way I had made his body react.

Though my hands still shook from the heat of the moment. The game paused during dinner. Oliver went back to ignoring me, eyes trained on the menu or his lap. I knew it was partially because he didn’t want to have a boner in front of our friends. Though, he conversed a bit more tonight, to Ronnie about tour dates, to his band mates about the setlist, to Sam about some stupid bit they were all involved in. I knew it was just because of the camaraderie between everyone.

Everyone had a really good time, myself included, though I was sweating. We were all laughing, sharing stories over numerous glasses of wine. Of course, my hand was a little heavier than the other’s when I’d poured myself some of the maroon colored liquid. I needed to drink in order to get through this painful plane of existence. This was not how I thought the night would go, but there was no going back now. I needed to make him uncomfortable, needed him to see me. He couldn’t ignore me any longer. Not now, not when I knew that I had him in such a taunting way. When dessert was brought out- slices of chocolate cake- I stepped back into the game. I was a little more brave now, encouraged by the wine. I was tipsy, sure, but I also knew exactly what I was doing.

Oliver was seated right across from me, accidental on either of our ends. But, lucky, nonetheless. I pushed my feet out underneath the table, taking up more space than I needed to. Eventually, the toes of my boots hit the tips of his black converse.

He had been eating his cake, eyes trained on the white cloth of the table. But, when I knocked our shoes together, his eyes flinched up, towards me. His brows furrowed. He dipped his head down and lifted the cloth up slightly to look at our shoes under the table. Oliver met my eyes again. He rolled his eyes and went back to his cake. I smirked to myself. He thought I was just being stupid, stretching my legs out. No- I was a smart girl. I knew what I was doing. This was all intentional. I hated him, but he thought I was hot. So, I could finally get back at him for all of his shitty behavior. Could use my good looks to my advantage.

I put my boot atop one of his converse. His foot wriggled beneath mine, in an attempt to knock it off. But, I pressed down, keeping it there. Oliver looked back up, annoyance evident in his face.

I took the opportunity to have a bit of my cake, slipping the fork between my lips slowly, tongue flicking out to swipe the bottom of it seductively. Oliver’s eyes widened as I drug the utensil from my lips. I twisted it around in my mouth, cleaning off every inch, lips pursed. He sat up in his seat.

I had his full attention now.

I scooped more cake onto my fork, though I didn’t bite into it this time. Instead, I licked the fork, dragging it down my tongue. Oliver’s eyes watched my mouth, his own tongue flicking out over his lips.

I swallowed, noticeably so. He shifted in his seat, hands in his laps now. I set my fork down, leaned back in my seat, and crossed my arms. I let myself grin at him, having successfully made his dick hard again. He was a stupid, easy boy. It didn’t matter who I was- so long as I was wearing skimpy clothes and being sexy- he was weak. Sure, he probably still couldn’t stand me- but his dick was hard.

Oliver’s jaw clenched. He tilted his chin up towards me, as if to say, “Okay. I see how it is.”

I flicked my brows at him, reaching out for my wine glass, and maintaining eye contact as I took a long swig. “Should we go out for drinks?” Max asked from his end of the table.

I glanced down at him, my wine glass empty now. Sam wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, searching everyone’s expressions. “Could be fun,” I shrugged. “Yeah, I could go for some beer,” Adam shrugged from his seat.

Ronnie nodded, too, “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Cyrus raised a hand to motion to the waitress that we needed our checks. I reached around to the back of my chair as she approached, ready to grab my wallet. Though we had already laid out how the checks would be split, she never gave me mine.

I furrowed my brows as she passed over me, handing out bills to everyone else. But, then I saw Sam laying his card down on his bill and nodded to myself. When we left the restaurant, and began walking down the street to the closest bar, I caught up to him and Ronnie. I looped my arm through his, gaining his attention, “Thanks, Sam Ham.”

He looked confused by my gratitude, but didn’t have time to focus on that because he was too busy being offended by my choice of nickname. He moved to fuck with me, to tickle my waist or something, but I quickly ran from him. Max and Adam were walking a few feet ahead of us. Laughing loudly, I headed to them, running in front of Max. The wine I had drank was making me loud, silly. I appreciated the ability to relax, unwind. Be myself without any filters holding me back.

Max nearly tripped over me, but when he heard Sam calling out, trying to get to me, he quickly grabbed me by the waist. “Leave my girl alone, you monster!” Max shouted, tossing me over his shoulder and racing further down the street.

I clutched onto his arms, yelping at the hectic movement. We reached the bar before everyone else, Sam having given up on chasing us after he nearly tripped on the curb. I watched them all approach where we stood from over Max’s shoulder, breathless.

I patted his back and said, “Okay, thanks, but you can let me down now.”

“Mhm,” Max turned towards the group. “Appreciating the view, love.”

“Max,” Ronnie was even getting protective over me. She moved in front of us, an annoyed look on her face, “You’re disgusting.”

Max huffed, and replied, “Okay, okay, here,” before settling me back on my feet. He grinned down at me, booped my nose again before heading into the bar with Adam, Ronnie, and Sam.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Cy and Oliver, having been trailing behind our group. Cy smiled kindly, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. I noticed Oliver was looking up at the sky. I trailed my eyes down over his body, towards his crotch curiously. His black skinny jeans looked just a liiiiittle bit tight, again.

I smirked to myself. “Cmon, Cy,” I pushed Oliver gently out of the way in order to grab onto his friend’s arm. We walked into the bar, leaving Oliver in the dust. I made sure to swing my hips just so for his gaze, which I was positive was glued to my ass.

The game was back on. And he would lose.

-

Max handed me yet another drink, a sweet, drunken smile on his face. “Here you are, lovey.”

“Thank you, friend!” I wriggled around on the bar stool happily. I lazily wrapped my lips around the thin black straw in the glass I now held tightly in my hand. The bitter taste of alcohol, diluted by the cherry grenadine and orange slice clipped onto the rim of the glass, flooded my tongue. I shut my eyes as I enjoyed the taste, drunk enough that it didn’t actually matter how gross vodka was.

I set the glass back down upon the bar, then twisted my stool around to observe the small dance floor. It was some local dive bar we’d settled on, a place Max had been to loads of times before. It was getting crowded, especially as the night wound down. Every seat at the counter was full, the tables were occupied, and everyone on said dance floor was pushing up against each other. The couples dancing there were sights for sore eyes, all sloppy hips and wandering hands.

I moved my head side to side, with the rhythm of the song playing, lips pursed. I knew some of the words, mostly just the chorus, so I sang along when I could. I glanced over to the pool tables when I heard Sam and Ronnie cheer loudly. They were playing against Adam and Cy, who seemed to be losing quite badly. I giggled to myself as Sam chest-bumped with Ronnie.

Max, who had been talking to Oliver, who was sitting- sulking- beside us, turned his attention back to me. I was still his ‘date’ for the evening, so he had refused to let me buy my own drinks. This was incredibly dangerous. Not including the two glasses of wine I’d had back at the restaurant, I was already on my fourth drink. The liquor was making my stomach warm, my limbs loose. As for Oliver…I had been too busy enjoying myself in the bar to play with him. I was feeling like just giving up, satisfied with what I’d accomplished, growing bored of him as the alcohol filled up my attention. Besides, the man seemed uninterested in anything anymore.

“I still owe you a dance, don’t I, lovely?” Max’s voice was low in my ear, his cheek brushing against my hair.

I grinned up at him, “I think you owe me at least two.”

Max dipped his head back to swallow the rest of his drink before offering me his hand. As he did, Whitney Houston began playing. My mouth opened wide in excitement. I hopped off the bar and drugged him behind me, jumping to the rhythm with each step I took towards the floor. I sang to Max, holding onto his hand, pointing with every lyric, popping my hips. He swayed, but mostly let me have my moment. He pulled me every so often and my hair would whip past my shoulders.

“Spinning through the town- ah!” I squealed as Max spun me towards his chest. I clutched onto his shoulders as he dipped me, hands low on my back. As I hung there in the air, I burst out laughing, my head falling further backwards.

When I opened my eyes, I caught sight of Oliver, now turned in his stool to face the dance floor. He wasn’t smiling, no, he was basically incapable of doing so. But, there was a small curl in his lips, a glint in his dark eyes each time the flashing lights burned his pupils. Nevermind. I was back in. I was so back in the game that it was probably unhealthy, and I’d probably regret it. The song ended, and, to my luck, S&M by Rihanna began playing. I grinned at Max as my back straightened up, my chest pressed against his.

He tilted his head at me with a playful smile, “I have a feeling Sam won’t like this.”

I wrapped my arms around Max’s neck, pushing myself flush against him. I stood on my tiptoes, glossy lips barely ghosting his earlobe as I whispered, “I don’t care.”

As I pulled away, I watched Max throw his head back and roll his eyes. “You’re killing me, love!”

“Good!”

The chorus began thumping through the speakers. I pushed Max’s leg through my own, feeling his boney hips against mine. I rolled my waist to his, tossing my hair back, leaning into his hands. He pushed his touch lower, over the curve of my tailbone, dangerously close to my ass. We danced through the song, pushing into each other, hips rolling. As it reached the bridge, Max pushed me away, still holding my hand, encouraging me to dance on my own for a moment. I did, jumping around, screaming the lyrics, hair whipping over my face. Max then spun me back into his chest.

When I thumped against his body, I knew I was going to puke. Vile pushed up my throat and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I stumbled, ripping my hand from Max. He was speaking to me, asking if I was okay, or something of the sort, but I couldn’t hear him.

I needed to get away- get to the bathroom, get fresh air, something. I didn’t know where the ladies room was, so I b-lined for the front door, tripping through the crowd, until my fingers touched the push bar handle. My knees scraped against the pavement as I fell into the curb, retching the contents of the dinner I’d had into the bushes outside the bar. I tried to brush my hair from my face, but it was sticking to my face in bunches, sweat acting as a bondant.

Out of nowhere, I felt someone else’s warm hands on my neck, fingering my hair back into their fist, peeling strands from my cheeks and lips. I braced my hands against the dirt of the curb and some of it lodged up under my fingernails. My knees were burning, probably all cut up from my crash landing.

After a few minutes of relentless gagging, my stomach was finally empty. I pushed myself back onto my ass, tears dripping down my cheeks, black mascara smudging all the way down to my neck. My back pressed up against the stranger’s chest. I felt my shoulders shaking from the exertion my body had just gone through.

“It’s okay,” they were shushing me throughout it all, their voice now processing in my ears. They wrapped an arm around my waist, hugging me to their chest as they swayed us slightly. Their other hand continued brushing my hair from my face soothingly, coaxing me down from the high of the moment. “It’s okay, Daisy. You’ll be okay.”

“I wanna go home,” I sobbed slightly, words slobbered from my salivating lips.

“I know, I know, s’okay,” they continued soothing me. “Think you can stand?”

I glanced down, looking over the hand that was helping me. Silver rings adorned the person’s long, slender fingers, and their pale wrist led into an arm that disappeared under a black sweatshirt. As my brain processed their voice, their sweet smell of cologne that was encasing me, my eyes widened.

“Ol-” my voice cracked, “Oliver?”

He peered over my shoulder as I looked back at him, managing to meet his eyes. “Yeah? You okay? Think you can stand, darling?”

I wanted to be angry, to jump up and yell at him for being so fucking weird, for acting like my existence was a burden, but falling to his knees whenever I was in danger. But, I couldn’t right now. I just wanted to go home. Back to the hotel, curl up in bed.

“N-no,” I admitted guiltily, brows furrowed. “I…don’t feel good.”

“S’okay. Shhhh, it’s okay. Here,” Oliver braced my back with a hand as he stood, ensuring I wouldn’t fall over onto the sidewalk. When he settled onto his feet, he pulled his phone from his pocket, shot a quick text to someone. Then, he crouched down, scooped me up, easily, into his arms. I lazily wrapped my hands around his neck.

The crevice of his shoulder was warm, so I nuzzled my head there. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping rapidly through his hoodie. I focused on the sound as he began walking. My eyes, unwillingly, fluttered shut. I didn’t know where we were going or, honestly, what the fuck was happening. But, I couldn’t care. I just needed my world to stop spinning. Besides, being so close to him felt…good. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want it to be true. But, he was…he felt good.

Eventually, I guess, we made it back to the hotel. I came to from my sleepy trance when I heard the elevator ding. I took in a sharp gasp of breath, lifting my head from Oliver’s chest.

“Doing okay, Daisy?” He looked down at me. I felt us shift as the elevator lifted up on its track. I shook my head, only having enough energy to do so once, frowning deeply, “Not really.”

“S’okay, darling, we’re almost there,” Oliver assured me. My brows furrowed when I heard the pet name pass through his lips. “What?” I questioned. I suppose he’d used it a few times now, but this was the first I’d noticed it. It was…entrancing.

Oliver glanced back at me, having trained his eyes back on the doors before us, “Said we’ll be there soon, yeah?” “Darling,” I whispered, mostly to myself as I lay my head back into his neck.

I heard him chuckle softly, as though he heard my inquiring tone. The noise rattled against my cupped ear, deep, hollow in his chest. I liked the sound. I wanted to hear it more often. I cooed and felt Oliver’s chest constrict beneath my chin, as though he was taking a deep breath. We were moving again, down the hallway, towards mine and Sam’s room. Oliver stopped outside of it and shifted me in his arms. “Okay, darling, need your help here. I’ve got your purse. Could you get in it, get your key? Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

My mind was so rattled by his free use of the sweet names that I struggled to focus on the task at hand. Jaw slack, I stared up at him, hypnotized. He smiled down at me, still humored by my shock.

“Darling? Please? Your purse.”

‘‘Purse,” I nodded slowly. Then, somehow, I managed to reach for the pink strap slung over his shoulder. I fished my purse into my lap, dug around, trying to find my wallet. As I continued to search for it, I began to grow frustrated. I just wanted to close my eyes, go to sleep. “Can’t find it.” I began to cry again, sniffling lamely.

He soothed me with soft hushes, “S’okay. Darling, s’okay. You can just..” he huffed as he tried to come up with a solution. He peered down the hallway, towards his room. “You can just stay in my room. Don’t cry, Daisy. S…okay.”

He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than me. He backtracked down the hallway, stopping before his door now. “Okay, just one more favor, darling. Can you do that for me? One more?”

“Yes,” I slurred.

Oliver tapped his fingers against the underside of my thigh. It released a net of butterflies in my stomach. “Can you reach into my back pocket, get my wallet? Yeah?”

I shifted in his arms, straining my arm over his shoulder as I reached for the wallet he spoke of. With a few soft groans from me, and the help of Oliver, who lifted me up further so I could reach, I retrieved it. I flipped it open, eyes immediately drawn to his driver’s license in the clear slot.

“You’re cute,” I muttered to myself, rubbing a finger across the picture. “December 22. Your birthday is seven months away.”

“Yes, it is, darling,” he chuckled down at me. “Now, listen-“

“My birthday is next month,” I tilted my head back, pointing my glazed smile up at him.

“Oh, yeah?” I watched as his grin grew upon meeting my eyes.

“The 12th,” I moved my hand from the wallet to his cheek, touching it softly. “You’re cute.”

His face grew hot beneath my touch. “So are you, darling. You wanna get to sleep, yeah?”

The words drew a yawn from my throat. I arched my back into his hold, nodding lazily.

“Would you take the hotel key out and press it against the handle, please? Daisy-“ he demanded my eye contact. I gave it to him, easily. I would do anything he asked, I knew at this moment.

“Yes.”

I unlocked the door, pushed it open for us. Oliver moved through the threshold, pressing a kiss to my temple shortly. When he spoke, his lips were so close to my ear that I felt his words in my legs. It vibrated through my veins, like the music at the bar had. He said, “Good girl.” I managed not to make a guttural noise.

Oliver carried me to his bed, gently laying my body down over the covers. I immediately curled up into myself, shivering at the cold in the air, eyes squeezed shut. I’d forgotten any conversation I’d started with him in the hallway. I was too focused on getting to sleep.

Oliver sat down beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He shook me, softly, “May I take off your shoes?”

I groaned in response, hoping it came out as a positive signal for him. He laughed again, before moving his touch down to my calves. He was so warm.

Oliver lifted my one leg, just slightly, unzipping each boot before sliding them down and off my feet. He leaned over the bet to set them on the floor.

When he straightened up, he leaned in to get a closer look at my knees. “Scraped yourself up pretty good.”

I hissed as his fingers dabbed at a cut. He apologized, softly, before adding, “Let me get a cloth, okay?” His hand was on my cheek now, thumb brushing away some of the mascara that was dried on my face.

I gave him a thumbs up, my hand hitting his shoulder. He took my fingers in his and lay it back against my chest. I held his hand there, snuggling my cheek to it. Oliver sighed at the action, but then took his hand back. I heard him get up. I heard the faucet run. Suddenly, he was back, pressing a warm, damp cloth to my face.

‘‘C’mere, darling,” he sat down again. Oliver’s fingers cradled my cheek as he lifted my head up and lay it in his lap. His fingers were rough from playing the guitar, but it was nice to feel them brush the hair away from my face. He was cleaning the makeup off my face now.

Meanwhile, I was far too drunk and tired to notice the way my body reacted to his touch. Butterflies ate away at my stomach, heat sprouted from every ghost of his fingers. Goosebumps covered every inch of my skin, eating away at me like acid.

He moved his focus down to my knees, using some alcohol pads to wipe off dried blood on my legs. He bandaged them with whatever he found in the bathroom.

“Would you like to change out of your dress?” Oliver then asked. He was still stroking my cheek now, but the cloth was abandoned. There was no makeup to take off. He was just…touching me, just for the sake of touching me.

“Please,” I peeked open my eyes. His face was so close to mine, it almost made me flinch. But, I was taken back more by the brightness of the lights glaring down on me.

When my squinting eyes met his gaze, he grinned, “Think you can sit up for me, darling?”

I nodded, a smile forced onto my face from his beautiful expression. Oliver braced my back again, large fingers splayed out over my waist, helping me to lean against the headboard. I wanted his hands all over me. I hoped I didn’t say it out loud. I didn’t think I did, but who knew at this point.

“Would you like a hoodie? T-shirt? Pants?” He glanced around the room as he spoke, hoping to find something for me.

“Hoodie,” I murmured in response, staring at the blank, black screen of the tv.

Oliver went to stand, but I reached out, fingers grasping at the strings of his jacket. He settled back onto the bed, brows furrowed as he looked down at my touch. He pointed to his chest, “This hoodie?”

“Please,” I stared at the string as I played with it. Oliver chuckled, again, before tugging his arms from the sleeves, peeling the hoodie up and over his head. My eyes glued to his chest as his shirt rode up, revealing his toned stomach, the line that I knew led to his dick. His hair was all ruffled from the movement, too, only making him more attractive to me.

“Wanna keep staring at me or go to bed, darling?” Oliver touched his pointer finger to my slack jaw, drawing my eyes to his.

I met his dark stare, flushing red. I smiled, “Both.”

“One thing at a time. We have all summer,” he shook his head, the volume of his words lowering as he spoke, like it was a secret we were sharing with each other. What the fuck did that mean? That meant something. That meant…everything. What the fuck?

I managed to lean forward so Oliver could unzip my dress, though my mind was somewhere else. It was racing, especially as his fingers brushed down my spine. My back arched into his touch. Heat sprouted like a garden on my skin. I needed…

Oliver pulled his hoodie over my bare body. When my head popped through the opening, we shared a sweet grin. Oliver glanced up at my hair, then ran both his hands over the mess, patting it down. He cradled my head in his hands, his large, warm, hold simply gazing into my eyes.

The pace of my breathing sped up, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him. I didn’t care that he was confusing, that he was an asshole 99% of the time. I didn’t care that he probably tasted like cigarette smoke, that I’d puked thirty minutes ago, or that he was my brother’s boss.

I needed his lips on mine. He had been the center of my thoughts these past few weeks. And he was finally right there for the taking.

I pushed forward with so much effort that I tackled Oliver onto the bed. I grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, guiding his lips to mine. He made a noise as his back hit the bed, the air knocked out of him. I straddled his waist, somehow, sloppily kissing him.

For a moment, just a brief moment, Oliver touched my waist and kissed me back. Then, he braced his hands against my shoulders, leaned his head back far enough into the bed that he could get away.

“Daisy-“

“Oliver, please!” I tugged at his shirt, whining like a child who had their candy stolen.

Oliver laughed at my puckered lips, squeezed-shut eyes. He sat us up, me in his lap, his hands moving to my waist. The movement forced my eyes open, my lips coming to a frown on my face. I furrowed my brows, puppy-dog eyes staring up at him with a pleading in my pupils.

“Daisy, you’re drunk,” he touched my cheek, trying to ground my gaze to his, hoping the explanation would make sense to my drunken mind.

But, it didn’t, of course. Besides, this was rejection. Rejection from the guy who rolled his eyes everytime I spoke. Rejection from the guy who got hard because of my thigh pressing against his leg in the car. The confusion of the situation was overwhelming me.

And the only thing I could think to say was, “Why don’t you want me?”

Oliver’s gaze softened. He didn’t even have to think of his response. It came so naturally, “I do. I…I do want you.”

His voice was soft, a whisper passed between just our breaths. My grip on his shirt loosened as I relaxed in his lap. I was still frowning, though, still confused, “Then why…why are you so mean to me?”

“It’s complicated, darling,” he searched my face, worry in his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just…let’s just get you to bed, okay? We can have this conversation when you’re sober. Can we do that, darling? Besides, we have a plane to catch in five hours.” I nodded, though it was slow, unsure. Oliver helped me under the covers, tucking them up to my chin sweetly. He brushed my hair back again, eyes lingering on my fluttering-shut eyes. I mumbled, barely coherent, slurred words, “Please lay with me.”

Oliver shook his head, “I can’t do that, darling.” “Why?” I pouted my lip.

And, though I forgot a lot of details about this night, his response was something I would never, ever let slip from my memory.

“If I lay down next to you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #sleep token x y/n #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #vessel x reader #vessel x y/n #vessel smut #sleep token smut #vessel sleep token #vessel x you #sleep token x you #vessel (sleep token) x reader

[stereopticons]

Thanks for the tags, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @hippolotamus @kiwiana-writes @jamilas-pen @indestructibleheart @ninzied @beaiola @rmd-writes @maxbegone @apothecarose!

I added a new wip this week but I’m still ruminating on it and honestly I’d really like to finish my other long fic before diving into that. But I did make some progress on the manhattan exes to lovers fic and it’s getting close(r) to being done. So here’s some of that!

“It’s nice to meet you.” Ken’s hands are soft, just like David’s used to be. Don’t go there.

Patrick’s too polite to turn Ken down, so he says, “Can I get you a drink?”

The thing is, under any other circumstances, Ken would be a catch. He’s cute and his tight shirt shows off a great body, which, Patrick learns, is the result of a combination of hiking and yoga. He’s smart and funny, and his cheeky barbs match pace with Patrick’s own gentle teasing. If they’d met a year ago, Patrick could see himself settling down with Ken, going on morning hikes together.

When the countdown starts, Ken’s enthusiasm is infectious and Patrick joins in, and when Ken leans in to kiss him as the clock strikes midnight, Patrick can’t think of a single good reason not to let him.

Tags under the cut!

@alienajackson @jettestar @mostlyinthemorning @lizzie-bennetdarcy @smblmn @vanillahigh00 @ramonaflow @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 @l56895 @myheartalivewrites @dinnfameron

#schitt's creek #seven sentence sunday #david rose #patrick brewer #david x patrick #patrick x david

[healthbeautyjourney]

Winter skincare routine 🦋

I'm so, so excited about my winter skincare routine! I need a lot of moisturizing right now; it's freezing, and there is terribly dry air in this part of Europe. Luckily, the Korean/Japanese skincare has helped so much. I even achieved the 'glass skin' look for the first time, which I initially thought would be impossible on my dry and problematic skin. The only downside is that it takes so long, but I've learned to enjoy those moments, really take my time with gua sha massages, and just ruminate over my day.

Morning:

Innisfree Green Tea & Amino Acid Moisturizing Foam Cleanser

COSRX AHA/BHA Clarifying Treatment Toner

COSRX Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence

COSRX Advanced Snail 92 All in One Cream

Innisfree Jeju Cherry Blossom Jelly Cream

Followed by makeup routine & La Roche-Posay Anthelios SPF50 spray

Evening:

Shiseido WASO Shikulime Gel-to-Oil Cleanser

Sisley Eau Efficace Gentle Eye Makeup Remover Face and Eye

COSRX AHA/BHA Clarifying Treatment Toner

COSRX BHA Blackhead Power Liquid (I've used this every evening for the last five years; nothing else has helped with my acne)

COSRX Advanced Snail 96 Mucin Power Essence

COSRX Advanced Snail 92 All in One Cream

Shiseido WASO Shikulime Mega Hydrating Moisturizer

Gua sha massages

Honestly, the Shiseido WASO doesn't get enough recognition; the line is so good!

I will give this routine a few more months to see if it has any blind spots, but so far, I'm very happy. And I can't praise the famous Innisfree jelly enough 🩵 I use the Estée Lauder Double Wear foundation, and it can be drying.

As I wrap up my skincare journey for the day, I'm reminded that taking care of my skin is like giving a little gift to myself every morning and evening. Here's to glowing skin and the joy of self-care! ✨

#skincare routine #cosrx #gua sha #self care #makeup #wonyoungism #acne #clean girl #it girl #cosmetics #shiseido #glow up #glowingskin #glass skin #clear skin #korean skincare

[basu-shokikita]

Dethentines 2024 Day 2

Inspired by a Classic Romance Movie

I was having a hard time coming up with a movie for today's prompt because I'm not much for romantic movies...until my friend reminded me of Twilight, which is both cursed and a formative movie for me. Additionally, I had already thought of a Skwistok Twilight AU so this was the perfect chance for it. 😜

I'm doing a re-imagining of Bella and Edward's infamous first meeting because it's straight up one of my favorite scenes of the movie, it's just too funny. So, anyway, enjoy whatever this is!! 😂😂

Toki reluctantly walked into the classroom, unsure if he had the right one. When he saw the tubes and all the other scientific parafernalia, he let out a sigh of relief. This was definitely biology class.

“Oh, hey!” A middle-aged balding man approached him. He looked friendly and shook his hand right away. “You’re the new kid, right? I’m Mr. Ramirez, your new biology teacher.”

“Ah!” Toki didn’t expect the physical contact, though he wasn’t against it. Mr. Ramirez had a warm hand. “Nice to meets you Mrs. Raysmires, ams Toki-”

“We saved you a spot, Toki!” Mr. Ramirez pointed at an empty . “You can sit right next to Mr. Skwigelf, I’m sure he’ll be friendly. Right, Mr. Skwigelf?” Before receiving any kind of response, he turned to Toki. “Welcome to the class, Mr. Wartooth.” He said and finally let go of Toki.

When Toki glanced at his table partner with hesitation, the words from earlier replayed in his mind.

That’s Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Hottest boy at the school. Probably the most arrogant one, too. He is completely unfriendly and won’t let anyone that isn’t one of his weird little friends approach him. Don’t even try being nice to him, he’ll totally ignore you.

Toki bit his bottom lip, self-absorbed in rumination. Suddenly, he felt a breeze from behind him and turned to look at the fan pointing at him. When he returned his attention to the table, he saw that the Skwisgaar guy had covered his nose and mouth, glaring at Toki with unbridled anger. His free hand was tightly clenched on the table, and he looked away with a deep frown.

Panicked, Toki sniffed his own armpit, wondering if he smelled bad. Okay, he should’ve probably remembered to use deodorant before leaving for school, but it wasn’t so bad. He still remembered to shower this morning and everything. Maybe this person was a neat freak or something.

Trying not to feel affected, Toki walked to his table without paying too much attention. However, the minute he sat on his chair, the guy recoiled against his corner. As if Toki’s presence was too much to bear. That was kind of rude and honestly pretty uncalled for, even for a neat freak.

And yet, when he turned to at least give a judgemental stare to his table partner, he found him scowling back at him. Pitch black eyes pierced into his soul, trembling so faintly that Toki wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the shaking fingers on the table. His lips, his nose, his eyebrows, even his sharp cheeks…every feature on his face was filled with pure disgust towards Toki. The disheveled golden hair only served as some kind of curtain to present the most disdainful stare Toki had received in his life. 

Despite his better efforts, Toki felt his eyes sting a little. Everyone had been pretty nice to him so far, nobody had bullied him or made fun of his looks, so he should be happy. He should be happy his first day had been going so well. And yet, this hostility was tearing him apart. What had he done to this man he didn’t even know to elicit such a reaction from him? Should he look for another table? Should he leave this class? Should he…

And then, the blond pushed the paper sheet towards Toki. Carefully, as if he was trying his best not to come in contact with Toki, but still. Somehow, that gesture made him relieved. At least, he wasn’t being kicked out, no matter how much this guy seemed to despise him.

“Thank yous…” He said quietly and the guy just closed his eyes almost dramatically in response. It was a little funny, but maybe he needed help. “Um…” Toki tried to move closer. “Ams you okays?”

Skwisgrab opened his eyes at once and stared at Toki like he was crazy, shrinking against his corner like a wounded animal. He opened his mouth but no seconds came out for a few seconds. Then, he tried again. “Don’ts.” His voice was deep, serious and honestly pretty attractive.

“Okays!” Toki said before moving back with his chair. 

“Alright, kids, settle down!” Mr. Ramirez exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Class is about to begin! Today, we’re studying…”

Toki tried to pay attention for a good whole minute before all the scientific terms got lost on him. He had never been the best with biology anyway. As subtle as he could, he took another glance at Skwisargs. 

The guy was still evidently repulsed, although he was making an effort to conceal it while he listened to the class. And it made Toki be able to see his face better. They weren’t kidding, Skwisgarp was really attractive with the rockstar mane, the long eyelashes, sharp features and full lips. Even his white teeth slightly peeking from under his upper lip were pearly white and…was that a fang?

Skwisgruel glared at him and Toki turned away, feeling his cheeks heat up. He tried to listen to the teacher, but the way Skwisgare crumpled the paper was infinitely more interesting and he couldn’t help stealing another glance at him. Long and slender fingers were wrapped around the abused paper sheet and Toki wondered how someone's skin could be so pale.

When he raised his eyes, he found the guy grimacing at him though it wasn’t just disgust in his eyes anymore, the confusion was apparent too. Whereas before he seemed intimidating and almost menacing, now he appeared weirdly cornered by Toki’s curiosity. And, in all fairness, it’s not like Toki could explain it either, so he pretended to pay attention to some random spot on his table.

The class went excruciatingly slow, with Toki fighting, and repeatedly failing, not to gaze at the handsome and bizarre stranger next to him and said stranger looking off put by him. By the time the bell rang, it felt like a million years had gone by, and Skwisgark dashed away with his bag in a hurry without even letting Mr. Ramirez finish. Toki observed the worn out black boots he was wearing, as his heels disappeared through the door frame. By the time he stood outside the door to take a peak, Skwisgerm’s silhouette was nowhere in sight.

Dangerous, was the first word Toki thought of, when trying to define this person. Like this was the kind of guy his parents would warn him against. And, yet, Toki felt an unshakeable need to know more about him.

Just who was he?

#dethentines #dethentines2024 #metalocalypse #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #skwistok #my writing #no beta we die like men etc #thank you dethentines for giving me the excuse to put this into the world #im cringe but im free

[m1ssunderstanding]

It's not fun to think about but honestly if Paul had been killed instead of John I'm not sure John would've gotten through it :(

For anyone thinking this is random, this is referencing a comment I made on a post that was saying 'if anything, Paul is crazier about John than the other way around. Look at all the crazy things he said about him.' and I just wondered what kind of crazy things John might've said about Paul if Paul had been brutally murdered and John left to morn.

This is a very sad thought. Unfortunately, it is a possibility. And not because John is more prone to that than Paul. Let's not forget how bad it got for Paul when John said he wanted a divorce. We don't know the full extent of Paul's grief immediately following John's death -- thank heavens. That should be private -- but I think he and Linda both probably took serious preventative measures to stop something worse than what happened in late sixty nine / early seventy happening. You know? I don't know how much of a support system John had at that time who could've stepped in and made sure he was okay. There are all kinds of rumors about his and Yoko's marriage being basically non-existent at that point -- I don't honestly know what I believe -- but no matter what, John didn't have a Linda, and that would've made it harder.

However, happily, there are lots of other possibilities to dwell on in that scenario -- John doing the reverse of Paul's avoidant, repressive "it's a drag" statement is my favorite. And, if we're ruminating over might've beens, there's always a good 1980 fix-it fic to read where nobody dies.

#thanks for the ask! #Even though it's a very dark and difficult conversation #paul mccartney #john lennon #the beatles #linda eastman #yoko ono

[gabessquishytum]

thinking about the porn studio au again and craving fluff... so! hob's had a busy (and throughly enjoyable) week of filming, they've wrapped for the week, and he and dream have a nice relaxing friday evening together before dream has to fly out on saturday morning for a business thing. a little annoying, hob always likes weekends when he gets some time alone with dream, but it's not a big deal. hob's fully intending to spend the weekend doing absolutely nothing, it'll be nice.

dream has to leave before dawn, so he wakes hob up for a kiss goodbye and then hob goes back to sleep... so when he wakes up properly it's to an empty bed. which is never his favourite way to wake up, it doesn't put him in a great mood, but it's fine. he'll get up and make coffee and go about his day of relaxing. it'll be fine.

it's... not quite fine. it sets in gradually enough that it takes hob a bit to figure it out, but when he burns his toast and starts crying about it... yeah, that's enough to clue him in that he's having a delayed drop. and part of him really just wants to go back to bed and hide and not say a word to dream -- his plane should be landing about now, there's nothing he can do, the last thing he wants is to make dream worry about him while he has more important things going on, it's not important, he's not important -- but dream has been very clear about what he wants hob to do in a subdrop.

so when dream calls after he gets out of the airport, hob tells him how he's feeling. and dream is... very tempted to turn around and get on the next plane home, honestly, but he knows that's not a rational thing to do. so instead he gives hob a few easy self-care tasks and immediately calls the other endless (and the corinthian).

over the next twenty minutes, all hob's other doms filter into the house. despair shows up first, hauling her ridiculously heavy weighted blanket to put hob under while the others arrive. a few of them bring treats, delirium brings her new favourite fidget toys, death brings a comfortable harness hob loves in case he wants to feel a little restrained. half an hour after he called, when dream's booked into his hotel room and checking flights home and telling himself that the others can take care of hob and he does not need to overreact, he gets a text from death.

they've all piled into hob and dream's bedroom, most of them on their bed, which is plenty big but it still takes work to get that many people on it. it helps that hob is laying fully on top of destruction -- hob's not exactly small, but literally everyone looks small next to destruction. destiny's dragged one of their armchairs into the room and is settled in next to the bed with a book that he's reading out loud. death's taking the picture, but there's a space left for her in the tangle of limbs on the bed.

it's a good reminder to dream -- hob may be his partner, but the others aren't only hob's doms while they're working. they adore hob, all of them, and they're all more than happy to drop everything and come take care of hob when he needs them.

-🐈‍⬛

I love this SO much. The aftercare and emotional availability of bdsm dynamics is such a wonderful thing, it's almost difficult to express how it feels but that comfort and feeling of safety and closeness? Unmatched. I need Hob to have that.

Idk also the idea of Delirium bringing fidget toys for Hob really touched me as well! I can absolutely imagine Hob being a person who needs something to do with his hands. When the headspace gets shitty he needs something physical to engage a part of his brain because otherwise he will ruminate and get super anxious. Fidget toys plus weighted blanket is the perfect combo, and Delirium and Despair are both so good at reading Hob’s physical needs during a drop. They just get it, no words needed.

I'm imagining Hob just being gently bombarded by pleasant, caring vibes. Lots of comfort food, all his favourite music and podcasts (Death remembers all his favourite things and it makes him cry a bit), napping on Destruction's chest and getting a killer massage from the corinthian that leaves him boneless.

He confides the thoughts that come with the drop while he's showering (Desire is washing his hair and Destiny is just sitting in the bathroom), and they talk about it a bit and go through some very gentle thought-questioning exercises. By the end of the day he's quiet but smiley and ready to have a better day tomorrow. He's got kisses and soft thank-yous for all his doms, and in his evening call to Dream he sounds sleepy but very very settled.

By the time Dream gets home, Hob is out of his drop but the flat is still crammed to the gills with the Endless + Cori. Dream gets pulled into the cuddle puddle and he doesn't even complain! He's so so grateful to the group for taking care of Hob, it means the absolute world to know that his love will always be safe and cared for. They get on his nerves but he wouldn't give up on working with his family for the whole world.

#🐈‍⬛ anon #the sandman #dreamling #hob x the endless #nsft

[bbygirl-aemond]

What was Daemon doing with Vermithor?

Hello everyone! I'm back with a little theory I've been ruminating on for a while. I'll note that I'm not the first person on Tumblr to have mentioned something similar to this, but what I've seen so far is mostly people hoping that Rhaena will claim Vermithor. I personally think this erases the huge significance and magic of Morning hatching for Rhaena as a symbol of magic and hope after the bloodshed of the Dance, which I've talked more about here, but I wanted to talk about the scene where Daemon is attempting to tame Vermithor. You know, this one:

Because like... What is he doing here? He's already a rider of Caraxes. During the Council scene in the season finale, he speaks about Vermithor from the clear standpoint of someone who isn't hoping to claim him personally. And the scene lingers very interestingly on a shot of Rhaena.

The show focused on the idea of Rhaena being dragonless and feeling rejected by Daemon as a result. It's made clear that Rhaena wishes she had a dragon, and that Daemon wishes Rhaena had a dragon. Additionally, in the season finale, it becomes apparent that Daemon's been planning for a succession crisis for a while.

So I think Daemon's scene with Vermithor isn't him attempting to tame Vermithor for himself, or for a dragonseed, or for any random member of Team Black I think he was trying to groom Vermithor to be claimed by Rhaena in particular. Remember, Rhaena is his daughter: she doesn't just have the blood of the dragon, she has Daemon's blood. It wouldn't surprise me if Daemon thought Vermithor being friendly towards him might help Vermithor to be more friendly towards his daughter.

If Daemon wants Rhaena to be more concretely connected to her Targaryen heritage, and if he wants his family to have control over as many powerful dragons as possible, Vermithor isn't a bad choice. Remember, Seasmoke is also on Dragonstone, and since his last rider was Rhaena's uncle he'd honestly be a decent shot for her to successfully claim a dragon. But Vermithor is the next largest dragon after Vhagar, and he's got a respected reputation because his last rider was King Jaehaerys I himself. If Rhaena claimed Vermithor, it would help significantly to counterbalance the Greens having Vhagar, and it would help their side to look better.

Of course, this doesn't happen. And again, I mentioned in my original post linked above why I think it's important thematically for Rhaena's character to obtain a dragon as a hatchling rather than claiming one. But I think it's an interesting way to show that Daemon is always out there thinking ten steps ahead, and is always thinking of how to preserve his Valyrian culture and how to better equip his family to protect themselves.

#hotd meta #meta #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #show #books #vermithor #seasmoke #morning #rhaena targaryen #rhaena #daemon targaryen #daemon

[visaviae]

The Great Escape

I've read an unreasonable amount of Worm Fanfiction. About 289 fanfics - all of which I've categorized and rated on this spreadsheet here. A more insane way to put that is that I've read 2.32% of Wormfic, discluding smut.

The Great Escape by ColossalMistake is my favorite Wormfic bar none.

I'm a sucker for some cover art, and it starts off with some awesome cover art by owl_hat, whose stuff you can find here. There's a ton of character just put into the designs - from how ratty Acidbath looks, the joy on String Theory's face, the mundacity of Teacher or the slightly haunting gaze of Glaistig Uaine.

The short of the premise is that after Echidna, after Alexandria, the Birdcage has a breakout, and Eidolon tries to recapture all the villains. The fic does a perfect bead on Eidolon's characterization. He's not evil, but he's not a good person. He's a little arrogant and egotistical - but he's earned the right to be. And at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is helping people.

I stared those sins dead in the eye every morning, every time I was too slow to save someone or too weak to help in the ways that mattered.

Throughout the fic, he uses dozens of powers. They range from things that he feels are useless, or potent powers but ones that aren't potent enough. He's constantly reminiscing about his glory days, about when he used to be stronger - about when he used to be *better.* Honestly? The powers are interesting enough that I should compile a list of them one day.

The first chapter starts off a little calm. David is ruminating over the events of the Echidna and Alexandria incidents - fresh wounds for him, isolated from some of the only people he can call friends. He's ruined. His allies don't trust him, he's not on speaking terms with Legend, he's put at arms-length by Cauldron to be reserved for the final battle.

“You’re a monster, David, plain and simple. We might have to work with you against the Endbringers, but you don’t have any friends here. Not anymore.”

The Great Escape scratches an itch for an Eidolon headcanon I have - that before his powers started dimming, and even after, he acted something like Scion. Flying around the world, helping as many people as can in as many ways as he could. Becoming less a person, and more the mask - more Eidolon.

Away went David, and out came Eidolon.

The chapter continues into something a little more manic as the news of the Birdcage breakout - well, breaks out. There's this sort of building tension with each name that's been dropped, starting from more niche characters to Black Kaze, to people who had little showings of strength like Gavel, all while surrounded by this sort of *blur* of motion as things are breaking down. Snowstorm, satellite issues, frantic responses.

And then it culminates with a line.

“Confirmation from Dragon, Glaistig Uaine’s free!” An air of finality settled over the room as the last picture slid onto screen. A blonde child, her mouth twisted in the mimicry of a smile. I could have sworn that her eyes were peering into mine, despite the photo being two decades old. “It’s not a breach. It’s…all of them. Loose.” I didn’t spare Young Buck a glance, but his bravado appeared to have fled. As the din in the room rose to a fever pitch, I remained silent. I’d asked for another chance to be useful. A second chance to help as many people as possible before they put me on a shelf, a relic to be laughed at before the end of the world. God had answered. Now it was my turn.

I'll talk briefly about the second chapter, too. It's a lengthy interlude that shows a series of snips from the POV of the escapees. Each of them running through the wilderness, plotting and planning. The standout three are Gavel, Black Kaze, and Glaistig Uaine - showing three facets of insanity. The more sadistic and psychopathic kind from Gavel, the more hallucinatory and manic from Kaze - and once again, the chapter comes to a close with the Faerie Queen. A more deluded, a more inhuman form of madness.

But one that she can most certainly back up.

As it stands, there are three sorts arcs. I'll post a line from each that I think encapsulates it all.

First, there's Eidolon struggling with String Theory - delving into his powers and how he feels like a shadow of what he once was. Put into a position that he's intimately familiar with - high stakes, something that only he can do.

But this time, he's not enough.

Then the weapon shattered, its only shot arcing up into the sky. And I didn’t know how to stop it.

Next, there's Pastor and Gavel. This focuses more on how Cauldron has been treating him, keeping him at arms-length, while still giving him a chance to be *useful,* even if he's not recognized for being useful. But Pastor is the more interesting half. We see a glimpse of the earlier days, when Hero was alive and Cauldron was in its infancy - we see a fascinating OC who perverts something that Eidolon holds sacred. His religious background. In Eidolon's own words, he perverts Christian beliefs - and vilifies *him.*

I looked back at Pastor, still with the smile on his face, not in the least bit upset by my actions. Eidolon, the ideal that I was supposed to be, meant so much to so many different people. In here, the man in green was a monster of biblical proportions.

The third arc is unfinished. It focuses on Amp - an OC who's an incredible foil to Eidolon. She's naive, idealistic. She raises complex questions and presents simple answers contrasted to the more jaded Eidolon. She had built up an image of him in her mind as someone who couldn't do wrong - and seeing what her own hero has become, and how she betters him because of that makes my heart soar.

“It isn’t a question of strength,” I said. Every branch of the Elite, from strategic outposts to nerve centres like this one, I could tear them apart root and stem. “Its a question of practicality.” They would doubtlessly lose, but there would be nothing to fill the subsequent vacuum. So they remained. A cancer propping up the west coast.

I love Worm, and I love Eidolon. This fic pays respect to both in a way that I adore. Please go ahead and read it. 7/7.

#worm #wormblr #eidolon #wormfic

[totowlff]

chapter thirty-five — finish line

➝ calm seas never made good sailors. however, that storm seemed to be the end of it all.

➝ word count: 3,7k

➝ warnings: a little smut

MAY, 2017

Elisabeth sat in the jet seat, her eyes fixed on the laptop screen, displaying graphs with the monthly change in the turnover of Mercedes-Benz Grand Prix Ltd, as well as the gross profit of the last five years. The numbers were already making her eyes cross, but she didn’t want to close the lid of the laptop and be alone with her thoughts instead. 

It would just make her feel alone, especially if her thoughts lead to the last time she was on the plane.

After her discussion with Toto, Elisabeth resigned herself to silence. She had nothing more to say to him than was strictly necessary. Anything she’d said was work related, and said with as few words as possible.. He had made it clear that he didn't care about her opinion. He had classified her worries and fears as being part of her “spoiled little girl ego” and that he didn't care about them.

— I don't care either — Elisabeth remembered whispering, as she stared at the guest room ceiling, tears streaming down her temples as her breathing went ragged.

“Bullshit”, she thought, leaning back in her seat and sighing.

Of course Elisabeth cared what Toto thought. Why else would she always make a point of asking his opinion? She always wanted to know what he thought about lots of different subjects, whether it was about a supplier at the factory, or if she should have put more salt on the chicken she was preparing for dinner. The only thing she hoped was that Toto would also consider her opinions when making decisions. It shouldn’t have been something difficult to do, at least in theory.

In practice, Toto seemed completely incapable of considering what she thought about some things. He knew her like the back of his hand, so he was almost always right about what her opinion usually was, but Elisabeth still wanted him to ask her about certain decisions. She didn't want to feel like her opinion was completely insignificant, likefelt the night after they got back. She was ruminating over it as she chose an espresso capsule to put in the coffee machine.

— Good morning, Liesl — Toto said behind her, making something inside her chest tighten. She glanced over her shoulder — Did you sleep well?

She limited herself to an affirmative sound, afraid her own voice would break. “Bullshit”, Elisabeth scolded herself. Of course she hadn’t slept well. 

— Are you going to the factory this morning?

— Yes — Elisabeth managed to say, as she selected a gold-colored capsule and put the rest of them back in the cabinet. 

— I thought you'd go this afternoon with me.

— I changed my mind — she said, as she opened another cupboard in search of a cup.

— You never go to the factory in the morning after the races — Toto remarked, making Elisabeth purse her lips. She had never been more frustrated with his knowledge of her than she was at that moment. She chose to remain silent, and tried to convince herself it was for her own sake.

But Toto couldn’t do the same. He insisted. He teased. He tried at all costs to elicit answers from her as the coffee machine hissed and filled her cup, until her frustration boiled over.

— And how can you be serious when you ask me to believe that you honestly forgot to tell me that you're going to be away for who knows how long taking part in a race?

— I'm serious, Elisabeth, because that's what happened! — he exclaimed. She shook her head as she grabbed her cup from the machine. In her mind, she came to a painful conclusion - she simply couldn’t go on like this.

— Liesl — he said, quietly, behind her.

Maybe it was time to put an end to things. Maybe it would be better if they just went their separate ways, sticking to their casual encounters at the factory and during races. Maybe it was better if she just accepted that they weren't meant for each other. Maybe it would be better if they broke up.

— Do what you want — Elisabeth murmured, without turning around to look at him — We don't owe satisfaction to each other anyway.

The thought of ending their relationship for good lingered in her head for the next few days. In Elisabeth's view, there was nothing worth saving, and she imagined packing all of her things and going back to Vienna 

— Fuck — she growled, staring at the floor with teary eyes as she sat on the bed in the guest room. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contact list, before tapping on one of her contacts. As she heard the line ringing, something told Elisabeth to give up and just go with whatever she was thinking.

— Hello? — Emilia said, her voice sounding a little sleepy.

— Hi Emilia, how are you? — she asked, her voice a little choked — Did I wake you up?

— No, I was watching a movie — she replied — Are you crying? Did something happen?

— Yes — Elisabeth whispered.

— What?

It was as if she had broken down, the tears streaming down her face, the sobs making her chest ache. Recalling the events of the past few days was painful, but not any more so than realizing that all her effort had been for naught over those two years. As much as she loved him, he didn't love her to the same extent.

— I'm going to break up with Toto — Elisabeth said quietly.

— Are you crazy? — Emilia shouted on the other end of the line. She sounded outraged — You can’t break up with him for something like that!

— Do you think his mistrust in me is nonsense?

— Elisabeth, it's one thing for you to be upset that he didn't tell you. It's another if you just want to throw an entire relationship, years of partnership, understanding and love, away because of an argument. Valtteri and I had arguments over worse things and we moved on together. We even got married.

— You said you two are still arguing — she murmured.

— My arguments with Valtteri relate to other matters, Elisabeth. Things that don't depend on me and, in a way, don't depend on him either. We’re talking about your relationship, not mine, and you can’t break up with him.

— But, what if it's the right thing for both of us? What if I'm tying him down to an unhappy life, full of explanations and worries and fears? He's brave, he likes to do things his way and I feel… like I’m in the way. A thorn in his side.

— He doesn’t look at you like you’re a thorn in his side, Elisabeth. He looks at you like he wants you to be by his side forever. I don't know if you believe in these things, but you two were destined to meet and be together — Emilia said, making Elisabeth snort — You told me the story yourself about someone mentioning an Austrian racing with a N-GT at Silverstone back in 2002 and you found out you were Toto a few months ago.

— That doesn't mean anything — Elisabeth muttered, running a hand through her hair.

— Look, I can't make this decision for you, but since you called for my opinion, I think you should reconsider. Wait and see if your feelings for Toto change, or if you still love him. And… If your love is still there, Elisabeth, give it a chance. Don't deprive yourself of being happy for this kind of nonsense.

Emilia's last words reminded her of her father's words on their flight to Bahrain a few years ago, when she was still repressing her own feelings for Toto. She had done all that to be happy with the man she loved. She hadn't denied herself the chance to be happy before, why would she deny it now?

— Okay — Elisabeth murmured, before saying goodbye to Emilia. She let out a sigh and stared at the lifeless walls of the guest room.

“It's time to go back”, she thought, getting up from the bed and leaving, towards the master bedroom. She stepped inside quietly and made her way to the bathroom to wash her face. She laid her head down on her pillow, a distinctly masculine scent on the pillowcase, as if a man had slept with it against his body.

— Liesl?

Elisabeth's heart was pounding in her chest.

— Liesl — Toto repeated, his voice sad — Please…

She sighed, trying to hold back the tears.

— I know I messed up. I know I should have talked to you. I know I said harsh things. But — he hesitated for a few seconds, searching for the right thing to say — I want to make it up to you. Let me fix things, Liesl. Please.

Elisabeth was frozen against the pillow, tears flowing.

— Good night — he whispered — I love you.

Even though Toto turned off the light, Elisabeth couldn't sleep. His last words replayed over and over in her head. If he still loved her, she felt like she would feel less guilty about still loving him after everything that happened this week. But if she still loved him, why did she feel like crying just looking at him? Why did she feel like his touch could burn her? And why did something inside her beg, even if Toto turned her to ash, that she give herself up?

The memory of the last time they'd had sex filled her mind, sending a tingle down to her belly. Maybe she needed this. Maybe the solution was to feel him at least one last time, as a kind of farewell.

The following night, Elisabeth got into bed with him after the bedroom lights had been turned off. Fumbling with the sheet in the dark, she found his back, drawing his attention. As soon as Toto turned around, she kissed him, imploring him to keep the lights off. She wanted them to remain in darkness, as she was sure she would regret it if he turned on the light. She knew that if she saw his expression as he penetrated her it would completely discard her ability to make any logical decision. The sincerity in his eyes would make her stay, and the way he said her name, like a whispered prayer, would never let her think about leaving again.

As she was on top of him, with her hands resting on his shoulders and her hips moving awkwardly, as if her body was seeing orgasm on its own accord, Elisabeth's mind was racing. She was angry. She was tired. She was happy. She was almost at the peak of pleasure. She was completely in love with him. She was convinced that she could never leave.

— Fuck, Liesl — he growled, his fingers digging into her thighs as Elisabeth was hit by her own orgasm like a wave cresting on the rocks, a moan of relief escaping her lips. But as she collapsed against his chest, her muscles quivering, she could only feel one thing. A singular emotion. It was the same thing she felt when she flew to Italy later that morning.

She felt guilty.

She felt guilty for having doubted his intentions, his emotions, and how earnestly he loved her. She felt guilty for saying she wouldn't be by his side if anything happened during that damn race of his, because she would. She shouldn’t have even thought about the possibility, but the images from his accident in 2009 were too fresh in her mind.

The thought of losing him was too painful for her to bear.

— Miss Lauda, we will begin landing procedures in Brescia. I ask that you fasten your seat belt until the plane comes to a complete stop. Thank you.

She just did as she was told, buckling her seat belt and taking a deep breath, trying to push the tension away. However, the anxiety of seeing Toto, talking to him, of saying everything that was stuck in her throat continued to bother her, like an itch in a place she couldn't reach. Elisabeth’s head continued to swim as she parked her rental car near the Parco Rebuffone, where the Mille Miglia would finish.

Elisabeth hadn't told anyone in the Mercedes marketing team or the race organization that she would be there. After all, she didn’t even know she would be there until the night before. She hoped she could go unnoticed among the crowds and she walked through the park, watching all of the excitement.

— Elisabeth Lauda? — a male voice asked behind her. Turning around, she saw a smiling man, accompanied by a little girl in a T-shirt with a silver star, as well as an older boy wearing a Mercedes cap. Both of them seemed awestruck to see her — Can we take a picture with you?

She blinked, a little taken aback by the request. Of course Elisabeth had grown up being photographed, especially by paparazzi. However, she had never been approached on the street by anyone like that. It was actually quite surprising.

— Of course — she smiled, as the two children approached her, crouching down to be closer to their height. The man pointed his cell phone at them and started taking pictures of the moment.

— Their grandfather, in this case my father, was crazy about motorsport — the man said, after signaling that he had managed to capture the image — He was so passionate that he promised that he would name his first son in honor of the driver who won that year's championship. I was born in 1977, so you can guess what my name is.

— Do you have my father's name?

— Niccolò, a variant, but that's the idea.

— That’s amazing — Elisabeth replied, smiling. She chatted some more with the man and the children, who were genuinely in love with Lewis and Mercedes.

However, soon she was approached for another photo, this time with a woman. Then came another young man who wore a competition cap. Soon after, someone from the local newspaper approached her to talk to her about the competition and Toto’s participation. Then more photos, until a member of the organizing committee managed to reach her through the crowd.

— Miss Lauda, it is a real pleasure to have you here with us. Could you accompany me?

As she waved goodbye to the people that stopped to talk to her, she followed the man to a tent where several people, members of the Automobile CIub of Brescia, had gathered. They greeted her warmly, almost as if they knew her. “Maybe they do”, she thought, as a man described one of the times she spoke to Niki and how her father described his youngest child.

— Ah, but I imagine you're not here because of Ferrari, but because of Mercedes, I suppose — Roberto, the vice-president of the club, said, smiling.

— Actually, I'm here for one of the competitors, but also for Mercedes.

— Oh yes, you are Toto Wolff's wife, right?

The word 'wife' made her heart leap.

— No, not wife. Only his girlfriend. 

— Ah, from the way he spoke about you, I assumed that you’d been married for years — Roberto said, making Elisabeth smile, her heart full of hope. If he was talking about her, maybe that meant he was willing to talk to her. Maybe he was willing to forgive her or at least give her a second chance after all — By the way, he is doing very well, he is the best classified Mercedes so far.

— Good drivers never lose their skills — she replied.

After talking a little with members of the Club, and being practically dragged to the lunch they had organized in a nearby restaurant, Elisabeth returned to the finish line, just before the first cars began to arrive, to the delight of the public.

However, as Alfa Romeos, Ferraris, Bugattis, Fiats and Aston Martins passed along Viale Venezia, Elisabeth felt a little worried about the absence of Mercedes in the procession. To her relief, a line of silver cars began to approach the finish line.

— He's over there — Roberto told her, pointing to one of the cars, which had a large sticker with the number 345, the same one that was on the shirt Toto was wearing in the pictures she had seen. From a distance, she could see his arm sticking out of the vehicle window, waving at people.

As the car approached, she got a better look at Toto's face. He was smiling broadly. “He's happy”, Elisabeth thought, sighing. There was something painful about seeing him happy like that, especially because she’d tried to stop him from running in this race. At the same time, she felt her chest warm with such joy.

More than anything, she wanted him to be happy.

As he crossed the finish line, his eyes met Elisabeth's, surprise evident on his face. Lifting a hand to wave, she gave him a shy, almost embarrassed smile. The same smile was on her face when she approached the spot where the car was parked along with the other dozens of vehicles that had participated in the race.

Outside of the car, Toto was talking to Aldo and two other men, dressed in the same shirt as he was. Upon noticing her presence, he excused himself from the group and walked towards her, a serious expression on her face.

— Elisabeth — Toto said in a solemn tone.

— Toto — she replied, feeling her heart pounding in her chest — Can we talk?

He sighed.

— You have something you want to talk about?

— Yes.

— It hasn’t seemed like it for the past few days— Toto muttered, looking down at the ground, a troubled look on his face. Elisabeth took a deep breath, trying to ignore his coldness. “He has every right to be upset with me”, she thought.

— Can we go somewhere more… Private?

He pursed his lips, as if he was considering her offer.

— Yes — Toto replied — There's a cafe nearby that's quieter.

Elisabeth smiled.

— Excellent.

After letting Aldo know that the two of them would be going to a nearby cafe and asking if he wanted something, they walked from the parking lot to the cafe that Toto had pointed out. They walked together, neither of them saying anything. Fortunately, the inside of the shop was quiet, even with the crowds outside. After ordering at the counter and sitting down at one of the tables, they stared at each other for a few seconds, as if they were waiting for the other to start the conversation.

— I thought you wouldn't come here, even if I flipped the car over and ended up in the hospital — he said, quietly. 

— I changed my mind.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

— You changed your mind?

— Yeah, I did.

— Why? — he asked.

— I spent a lot of time thinking, reflecting about everything that happened in the last few weeks. I was considering whether or not it was worth continuing.

The last sentence made him pause.

— Continuing?

— Continuing with… Our relationship.

Toto was silent for a few seconds.

— Did you come all this way to break up with me? — he asked, his voice a little hesitant — You could have saved your time and energy and waited until tomorrow to do that, you know, right?

Elisabeth swallowed hard. He appeared to be quite calm for someone who was being confronted with the possibility of the end of a relationship as complicated and intense as theirs was.

— I know. But I wanted to talk to you as soon as you were available.

— You could have called.

— I'm not a woman who makes decisions over the phone, Toto. Especially the ones involving my life and… The people I love.

The last word had him looking up from his hands, seeming to process the word she'd just said. As Toto stared at her, an employee from the cafeteria approached their table with the two cups of espresso they had ordered. Thanking the woman, Elisabeth waited for her to move away to look back at the man in front of her.

— And what decision did you come to? — he asked, sipping his coffee.

She sighed.

— I came all this way to apologize to you, Toto. I came all this way to tell you that I love you. That I can’t see my life without you. That I was wrong from the beginning in trying to impose my fears and insecurities on you, especially in relation to your passions — Elisabeth replied, feeling her voice break and her eyes fill with tears. It was too hard to think about living in a world without Toto. Worse than that, it was living in a world where he was present, but wasn’t part of her life.

After a few seconds of staring into his own drink, he looked up at her, a shy smile on his lips.

— You don't need to apologize, Liesl.

— I do, Toto — she answered — I acted like a spoiled little girl who…

— No, you didn’t. I was wrong to not fulfill my part of our agreement. I'm the one who has to apologize to you, but I was too proud to admit it. 

Elisabeth stared at him for a few seconds.

— You mean you forgive me?

Toto smiled.

— Yes. I forgive you, baby. And you?

— Always — she replied, taking his hand from the table, squeezing it lightly.

They remained hand in hand for a few seconds, in silence. Elisabeth felt an inexplicable relief, a feeling of lightness. It was a wonderful thing, considering the general feeling she had been having for the past few days was that of drowning.

— Liesl?

— Yes.

— Did you really think about breaking up with me?

— Yes. But Emilia made me realize I was being an idiot.

Toto was silent for a few seconds.

— Remind me to thank her for that, huh?

She laughed.

— Why?

— I would never forgive myself if I had lost you to an old car.

Elisabeth shook her head.

— It's not an old car, it's a Mercedes.

— From 1952, that’s old. And it’s an old car with the worst gearbox and damping in the world — Toto replied with a playful smile. “How I missed it”, she thought, while laughing at his comment.

— I thought you liked it…

— I do. But I don't ever want to drive it again.

— It is so bad?

— Finish your coffee and we'll go for a ride. I doubt you'll like it.

— With you at the wheel, I'm sure I'll like it. Well, until you start to race.

— I won’t, Liesl.

— Promise?

— I promise — Toto said, taking her hand and kissing her fingers.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x oc #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x oc #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula one x oc #wlffog #natsversion #scwlff

[slutforwings]

books i read in 2023 that i recommend :) mainly because i am trying to find new books to read in the 'book rec' tag and none of these people give summaries so I shall bravely do it instead for others!

wrong place wrong time - gillian mcallister (mystery)

Blurb: a woman sees her son killing someone in front of her, then wakes up the next morning only to realise it's the day before the murder. she keeps traveling back in time, unraveling the reason for the murder and trying to stop it along the way Review: i misread the back and thought it was gonna be a time loop but this was even better actually. i fucking devoured this book it was so compelling. i tend to devour mystery books like these regardless of their well-writtenness but this was genuinely really good and tied up everything neatly at the end.

autobiography of a corpse - sigizmund krzhizhanovsky (short stories)

Blurb: bunch of fantastical short stories like about the people living in your pupil, a society that deals in anger and malcontent, a guy trying to bite his elbow Review: this book made me realise i love short stories, but then it turned out i mainly love THIS GUY'S short stories. they were just that good. slavic writers are built different

the secret history - donna tartt (psychological fiction)

Blurb: cult group of pretentious college kids study greek and turn it into a personality trait. also theyre gonna conspire to kill one of their own and then try to hide it Review: all of these characters are cunts and i love them so much. do not believe the dark academia girlies peddling this book, these people are stupid and pretentious and morally corrupt and theyre SO MUCH FUN!! the internal monologues are fantastic, i want to study Dick's brain. its a very Long book and absolutely takes its time and yet it does not feel like any parts are really unnecessary. really good.

this is how you lose the time war - amal el-mohtar & max gladstone (sci-fi)

Blurb: two time travelers from opposing agencies each have a mission (the mission involves historic meddling through time travel but is honestly not as important) and keep encountering each other and leaving letters to taunt, falling in love throughout the story Review: listen i saw that tweet 'do not look up anything about this book and just read it' and i did and i had zero regrets. i bought the paperback after reading the ebook bc it was just that good. beautiful prose, fantastic worldbuilding that is sometimes only hinted at but everything made me go !!! can you tell i love time travel.

notes on an execution - danya kukafka (pyschological fiction)

Blurb: serial killer on death row recounts his life, as well as pov of the police officer that investigated the cases and got him in jail + pov's of the family of the victims Review: incredible story about family, morality and love. raises a lot of questions about criminals and 'evil' and does not answer them because that's the whole point. insane quotes too. also very vivid storytelling in the way that i could picture all the locations perfectly despite them not being described in detail. i think it was due to the intense Vibe

bunny - mona awad (uh. horror?)

Blurb: um. goth/'not like other girls' girl gets indoctrinated into joins a cult group of really girly girls that all call each other bunny and have kind of weird rituals meetings. Review: listen. i hate when people do this to me but. just read it. if you're a fan of magical realism and cult-y things, you're in for a treat. this book made me bike home in a daze. i love stream of consciousness where you as the reader are just as lost as the character! i love you bunny!

instructions for a heatwave - maggie o'farrel (fiction)

Blurb: a pensioned father leaves the house for his newspaper and then doesnt return. all the children are gathered by the mother to try and figure out what the fuck happened. Review: not so much a 'hey where'd he go' as it is a rumination on family and unconditional love. ofc theres some family secrets that get revealed but i found it more interesting to watch the family dynamic and the changes the secrets brought to it. bittersweet :)

#book tag #book recs #book review #book rec

[thenerdykneazle]

Sallow Soul - Fighting

Summary: MC and Sebastian continue to clash. Things devolve as they both try to push each other's buttons. After some much-needed advice, Sebastian tries a more straightforward approach to winning MC back, but it doesn't go as planned.

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Warnings: 18+, sexually explicit content, aged-up characters, angst, toxic relationship, lots of pining, overconsumption of alcohol

Word count: 11,388

Read on AO3. Part 1. Part 2. Part 4. Part 5. MC's perspective (Kindred Spirits).

Part 3: Fighting

Sebastian dragged himself out of bed at 6 that morning. He had been awake since 5, and it was evident that no more sleep would befall him. When he opened his door, he was shocked to find MC standing in the hallway yet again. He had hoped to at least get to brew some tea before he had to face her.

“Long night, I take it,” MC quipped.

Tensing his jaw, he bit back venomous words about it being none of her business. Though, he really had no interest in her knowing the details of his mediocre tryst – or his pathetic breakdown after. She’d been too involved in the whole thing as it was, even if that was Sebastian’s fault, not hers.

“Well, do you think you could go two weeks without bringing more bints back here if you’re going to be so shite at using silencing charms?” she asked. “Surely, they have flats, too. Go to theirs.”

“Do you think you could go two seconds without being a cunt?” he sneered back. He’d already lost almost an entire night’s sleep because of her. He had no patience for the harpy that morning.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she demanded.

He thought that was rich.

“My problem? I was nothing but nice to you when you got here! You’re the one that’s been acting like a bitch the whole time!” Sebastian retorted. He had tried to make things work, and she’d all but spat in his face. Honestly, he’d have preferred it if she’d spat on him rather than admit the depths of her disdain for him. At least then he could’ve pretended that she hated him for what he had done to her, not who he was.

“You’re such a bastard!” MC seethed as she started down the hallway.

Sebastian was inclined to agree as regret for his poor temper began to seep in, but she grabbed her cloak and disapparated out before Sebastian could apologise.

He spent the morning trying to figure out whether and how to ask for her forgiveness. He even kept ruminating on it during their physical training that morning. He had wanted to try to talk to her at lunch, but he ended up sat too far away. Besides, she was quickly absorbed in a letter she received.

Sebastian pushed his food around his plate, taking occasional bites as he moped privately. Though, his head snapped up when he heard Sofia ask, “Who’s that?”

She was looking over MC’s shoulder at some photos she held. He was almost across the whole table from her, and he had no chance to strain for an angle that might give him a glimpse of the pictures.

“A friend from back home,” MC replied, and Sebastian began going through a list of potential candidates.

“He’s cute,” Sofia said with a smirk.

Sebastian glowered and struck several names off his mental list. There was, of course, also a chance that Sebastian had never met the bloke. He could be a new friend. Sebastian hated the idea, both because it involved some other man getting close to her and he wouldn’t have been able to vet him. It was awful all around.

“I’m quite protective, so you can look, but that’s it,” MC joked.

Sofia chuckled, and Mikko began peering over MC’s shoulder, as well. Sebastian wondered if it was possible that he hadn’t noticed that Mikko was interested in men. He’d had a handful of conversations with him. And Sofia had mentioned him once or twice since she’d arrived back in Helsinki, as they worked in the same unit in Jyväskylä. Sebastian couldn’t recall if either had mentioned any men or women in his life.

Sofia yelped and clasped a hand over her heart. “Merlin! Warn a woman before just springing a snake on her,” she said.

MC and Mikko laughed at her.

Sebastian stared at them. Did she have pictures of what he thought she had? Morbid curiosity overpowering his self-preservation instincts, he narrowed his gaze at the backs of the photos in MC’s hands as if he might be able to see through them to the images they held.

“Sorry,” MC said to Sofia, ignoring Sebastian’s blatant eavesdropping.

Just as Sebastian got the idea to head to the loo and catch a glimpse of the photos as he walked by, MC tucked them away and stood up. She left the cafeteria, presumably heading off to write the mystery person – well, man – back. A flash of anger spiked at the thought that she might be sending photos to him in kind.

“Honestly, you act like you’ve never seen such a thing before,” Mikko teased Sofia.

“I was just caught off guard,” she said defensively.

He shook his head as he laughed at her again, and she smacked his arm.

“Stop it!” she said, and he attempted to comply as he stifled his laughter.

“I convinced her to try a sauna,” Mikko said, changing the subject and making Sebastian’s ears prick up.

“Not the one here, I hope,” Sofia replied with disgust.

“No, Löyly,” Mikko said.

Sofia’s eyebrows raised. “How posh.”

“Of course! I’m trying to convert her. She’s got to have a good experience. You know how Brits are. Sepe’s lived here for years, and he still doesn’t use the saunas. Do you, Sepe?”

Sebastian looked up to find Mikko and Sofia both looking at him. “I could be persuaded,” he replied.

“The sauna herself should be enough to draw in any sane man,” Mikko replied.

“Right,” Sebastian said stiffly. He really didn’t get Mikko’s obsession.

His eyes flicked back to Sofia, and he didn’t like the look she was giving him. He quickly made an excuse to leave the table – and protect his private thoughts.

That afternoon, MC disappeared immediately after training. Sebastian didn’t try to catch her, as he knew where she was heading. He cleaned the gym faster than he thought any muggle chores could go. He grabbed his things from the locker room and was at the entrance to Löyly in under 5 minutes.

Sebastian checked in, showered, and changed into swimming trunks. Sebastian stepped into the hot sauna and was reminded instantly why he hated them. The air felt thick and hard to breathe, and a bead of sweat was already making its way down the centre of his back. Who pays to be made sweaty and uncomfortable? He spotted MC with ease, as it wasn’t very crowded.

She had her eyes closed and her head resting back on the wall behind her. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, which didn’t seem very safe in such an environment. He felt his old protective instincts waking up at the potential threat to her. He felt other instincts kicking in, too, at the sight of her in a soaked bikini.

He sat right next to her, but she barely stirred.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked quietly. His voice came out huskier than he’d intended.

She was slow to open her eyes but quick to narrow them at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed.

Sebastian smirked. “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” he mused. “I finished up my cleaning early, so I came to check on you.”

“Are you stalking me?” MC asked seriously.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I’m supposed to be your guide while you’re here. It’s my job to keep an eye on you,” he said. His smirk broadened as his gaze dropped momentarily. “Not that I mind it.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t need a babysitter,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m just fine. You can go.”

Sebastian had been hoping for a more illuminating response like ‘I have a boyfriend’ or ‘you better watch your mouth or X will kill you.’ He fretted over whether ‘X’ might mean ‘Leander Prewett.’ Gods, Sebastian would do the job for him if that pratwas his replacement.

“Go?” Sebastian asked, leaning back against the wall. He brushed his shoulder against hers. He turned his head toward her, leaning over conspiratorially so that his face was mere centimetres from hers. “I just got here.”

MC scooted away from him. “You’re really set on ruining this for me, aren’t you?” she asked dismally.

Sebastian arched a brow at her. “Ruin? Most people enjoy my presence, you know.”

MC scoffed. “Most people haven’t fucked you and been left cold in the morning.”

He tried to bite back his smirk, but it only widened further. “You underestimate me.”

She grimaced at him. “Yes, you do seem to get around.”

Sebastian narrowed his gaze at her. “Are you slut shaming me?”

It was rich coming from the woman getting international dick pics by owl.

MC rolled her eyes. “Just normal shaming. You disgust me in a multitude of ways, I assure you.”

Sebastian puffed himself up indignantly. “I seem to remember a time you thought I was far from disgusting.”

He let his gaze drag down her form again. It was a bit of a miscalculation, as those aforementioned instincts didn’t know he was just trying to make a point. All they knew was that a beautiful witch he was mad about was wet and nearly naked right next to him. Gods, he shouldn’t have thought about her being “wet.” Sebastian had to adjust himself as his trunks were getting rather tight.

“Funny how things change when you find out who someone really is,” MC said sarcastically.

“And who am I really, then?” he asked curiously as his gaze finally returned to her eyes.

MC scowled at him. “Someone willing to bring home two random women just to keep me up and piss me off, apparently.”

Point MC, he thought. Outwardly, though, he sneered at her.

“You flatter yourself. Not all of us want to be tied down all the time. I like to have fun. I’m sure your boy toy back home wouldn’t know the first thing about it if he’s resorted to sending you dick pics in the post.”

MC looked befuddled. “What are you talking about?” she asked irritably.

“Your little special delivery at lunch.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You mean the letter from Ominis?”

Sebastian felt that he was about to be sick. It made sense, of course. They’d always been good friends. They’d both been through heartbreaks – ones that they supported each other through, no doubt. Of course,it was–

“Ominis?” he repeated in a roar.

It making sense didn’t mean he had to like it.

Several of the other people in the sauna glared at him. He gave them an apologetic smile before continuing much more quietly but no less irate, “You’ve got to be fucking joking. You’re with him now?”

“No!” MC said too loudly, earning them more angry glances. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

“Then why’s he sending you pictures with his ‘snake’ in it if–” Horror filled Sebastian as the realisation hit him. “Oh, gods, it was a literal snake, wasn’t it?”

He hid his face behind his hand as he wished for the hot, humid air to melt him into a puddle so he could slip away through the slats in the bench.

MC looked livid. “Obviously, you twat!”

Sebastian felt a pang of grief at the distance between him and his once-best-friend. Was he really not even close enough to merit showing a photo to him? She’d shown them to people who’d never even met him! “Why wouldn’t you have told me Ominis wrote you?”

MC set her jaw. “Because it’s none of your concern. You cut contact. Now will you shut up and let me enjoy my sauna?”

Sebastian was still reeling about being so out of touch with Ominis. “How’s he doing?”

MC refused to even look at him. “Ask him yourself.”

Sebastian almost scoffed at the idea. As if trying to reconnect with her had gone so well that he should branch out. “You know I can’t. He’d never respond.”

Shooting a glare over her shoulder, MC spat, “And whose fault it that?”

Sebastian pursed his lips. He didn’t know how he had ever dated someone so endlessly stubborn. “I just want to know how my friend has been.”

“Well, he’s not your friend, anymore! You don’t get to know!”

She was yelling now, but Sebastian was too frustrated to realise how much of a scene they were making.

“He’s my brother-in-law! I have a right to know!”

MC stood up in a huff. If they hadn’t been fighting, Sebastian might’ve gotten distracted by how close it put her breasts to his face. It might’ve distracted him anyway. “Gods, you just love to make yourself seem like the victim!” she said before storming out of the sauna.

Sebastian followed her after a brief paralysis from confusion. He moved quickly to catch up to her.

“I’m not done here!” he said.

“I am!” she retorted, shoving through a door.

Sebastian started to come after her, but she pushed him back. He was all the more perplexed until she pointed to the symbol on the door. “Women’s locker room.”

She tucked inside, leaving him fumbling for something to say that might bring her back. He found nothing.

When Sebastian returned home, he realised he never did actually apologise for being an inconsiderate arse the previous night. Though, the fact that he had actually put much consideration into having loud sex while she was trying to sleep was not something she needed to know. He regretted it. Even if she did still hate him. He held onto the hope that he could still fix that.

He made an apology dinner while he waited for MC to return from the sauna. He cooked some of her old favourites along with some of his new ones. But, even after it sat on the table for an hour, she still wasn’t back. After another hour, he cancelled the stasis charms he’d put on the dishes and packed it all up.

That was when he started to panic. He grabbed his cloak and searched all over town for her. He tried every wizarding pub in the city – as well as a few muggle ones. He tried several parks, in case she’d needed a walk to clear her head. He was in a right state when he finally returned to his flat.

At first, a jolt of fresh panic ran through Sebastian when he saw the unfamiliar cloak strewn on his sofa. Then he saw MC’s on the floor. And the tops. And her bra. It was abundantly clear what had happened. Sebastian felt that protective instinct flaring up again – or maybe it was just jealousy. But he knew he had no right to be upset. Fair was fair, even if he hated it.

He trudged forward to his room, his feet dragging across the floor. He felt like there was a boulder in his stomach weighing him down. As he approached his door, however, his adrenaline spiked again. There were moans coming from behind his door.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” came MC’s muffled, keening voice.

That bitch!

Sebastian slammed the door open. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” he yelled, body and mind both flooded with rage.

The sight before him made him want to claw his eyes out. MC was sprawled naked on his bed. Normally, he’d be thrilled about that, but there was some wanker wrapped around her. He’d had his tongue shoved down her throat and his hand between her thighs before the door had banged off the wall and made him whip around.

“Shit,” MC said, looking up at Sebastian with wide eyes like she was surprised to see him. That only enraged him further. Had she really not expected him to catch her in his room?

“When I said ‘make yourself at home,’ that did not mean you could fuck some random prick in my bed!” he spat. He felt ready to explode, fury and magic bubbling up within him.

“No? I guess you should’ve been more specific, then,” she replied, calm as you like. Sebastian could’ve throttled her. Then, she covered herself with one of his pillows, and he imagined smothering her with it, instead.

Sebastian’s gaze slid up to her neck, where a purple welt had formed. He’d throttle the bastard next to her, too, he decided.

As if sensing his thoughts, the very devil hopped out of Sebastian’s bed and pulled on his trunks. “I’m gonna go,” he said.

“Probably for the best, love,” MC said sweetly. “I had a lovely time.”

The bellend smiled at her before grabbing his trousers and booking it out of the flat. A loud crack signalled that he had departed only a moment later. Sebastian was no less committed to his plan of double murder. At the very least, he could use muggle methods to track the bloke down. After all, he knew where to find a sample of his DNA.

Sebastian nearly vomited at the thought.

“You’re psychotic, you know that?” Sebastian said to MC, vibrating with rage. “On what planet did you think this would be okay?”

“It was an honest mistake,” MC replied, still maddeningly casual. “I said the door on the left. I meant my left. He picked his left. It’s funny, really, if you think about it.”

Sebastian wondered what sort of pillock would think “left” could refer to a door straight at the end of the hall? Sure, it was left relative to MC’s door along the right wall, but still.

“And so you thought, ‘Well, I’m already here. Might as well stay and shag’?” he said scathingly.

An evil smirk spread on her lips. “I know you didn’t see him erect, but, if you had…whew – your mind would’ve gone blank, too.”

Sebastian’s fists were moments away from collapsing in on themselves with how tight they were. Of course, that was if he didn’t pass out from hyperventilating first. MC truly had no regard for him whatsoever. She just wanted to make him miserable.

“Sorry, can we talk ground rules when I’m not naked and covered in cum?” MC continued.

“Get out!” Sebastian roared. He was either about to avada her or burst into tears, and he didn’t want her around whichever way it went.

Fortunately, MC was happy to oblige, scurrying past him with the pillow clutched to her body. She scooped her trousers off the floor without stopping. She turned back around just outside his door and glanced down at her stolen bedding. “Did you want this back, or…?”

“Keep the sodding pillow!” he growled before slamming the door in her face.

Sebastian was trembling with fury as he just stood there. He managed to cast a silencing charm before he started slinging hexes around the room, starting with his tarnished bedding and continuing until everything was destroyed. With no remaining person or intact object at which to direct his pain, Sebastian sank to the floor amongst the rubble. He hugged his knees to himself and sobbed into them. More than the pain at seeing her with someone else, more than his anger at her for degrading him by doing it in his bed, he felt most crushed by her relentless ire for him. He just wanted her to stop hating him.

He moved slowly when he finally got up to repair his room. He put things back one by one. Except his sheets. Those he finished incinerating. He scourgified the mattress for good measure before conjuring new bedclothes. Slowly, the rest of the debris was cleared. The last thing out of place was a black scrap of fabric on the floor. At first, Sebastian had though it might’ve been a singed bit of his old sheets. However, he placed it almost as soon as he picked it up. They were black lace knickers, clearly torn off hastily.

Sebastian felt a fresh surge of rage sweep over him. He almost cast a fire-making charm to get rid of them, but he paused. He crumpled them in his tight fist as disgust and longing warred within him. He tossed the knickers in the drawer of his bedside table before slamming it shut, trying to piece together what exactly had happened to him in his life to make him such a masochist. There were too many contenders to be sure of the true culprit.

Sebastian awoke on Thursday morning dark and early. He was out the door for his run before 5 and back before 6. It did little to clear his head, though, and his thoughts wandered as he showered. Somehow, he was uninspired for his usual morning wank. So, instead, he ruminated on the enigma that was MC. She seemed to hate Sebastian, but she’d kept him from getting kicked out of the training programme. She insulted him constantly and fucked some bloke is his bed to…spite him? It didn’t make sense.

He assumed it was revenge for his escapades the prior night. But it hadn’t gone on that long before the room was silenced. It didn’t make sense for her to be so upset over that. Unless she was jealous – like he had been after finding her mid-tryst. The more Sebastian thought about it, the more that made sense.

Stepping out of the shower, Sebastian grabbed his wand and cleared the steam from the bathroom. He patted himself dry, then started on his hair. Sebastian tilted his head as he watched himself in the mirror. He recalled how MC had stared at his arms just two mornings ago. His teeth sank into his lip as he considered an idea – a stray thought, really. But a tempting one.

Sebastian strutted into the kitchen, cock and balls flapping in the breeze as he strode about stark naked. He had nothing but the towel he was using to finish drying his hair. MC was shocked to say the least, and although she shielded her eyes, he had seen them dilate when they landed on him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she asked, sounding aghast.

Sebastian smirked at her. “I thought about it and decided you were right,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. “We should both be comfortable here. Et voila.”

He gestured to his nudity, and then he stole her beans on toast.

She tried to grab it back. “That’s not yours!” she said indignantly. The nerve of her.

Sebastian held the food out of her reach. “And my bed isn’t yours.”

He took an aggressive bite out of the toast for emphasis. It was quite tasty.

“I admit that crossed a line, but I really didn’t plan on shagging Erik there,” she said imploringly. “This is just inhumane.”

Sebastian continued glowering at her. He didn’t like the idea that she just couldn’t help but fuck from guy in his bed any better than the thought that she had premeditated it to piss him off. In fact, he found it much, much worse.

MC scrambled to get her burning eggs off the hob as she finally smelt the smoke that had been wafting up for almost a minute. She sighed in defeat as she put the ash-coated pan in the sink.

Sebastian smirked again. “Distracted, were you?” he teased before taking another bite of her toast.

She sneered at him. “Blinded, more like.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her as chewed his latest bite of her breakfast. He swallowed. “By my beauty?” he asked, batting his lashes at her.

MC glared at him. “By your pasty bollocks.”

He scowled. “Well, thanks for the toast, love,” he said icily. “I’ll see you at training.”

He did see her at training, though it was largely uneventful. He also made sure she saw all of him when he got back to his flat and watched some tele whilst starkers, letting his legs flare open for good measure. She’d come into the room and almost immediately did an about-face. He watched one episode of Doctor Who before proceeding to make dinner. He offered a plate to MC when she finally emerged from her room again. She gave it a scornful look before grabbing her cloak and leaving. She returned a bit later with a takeaway bag. She rolled her eyes when she spotted him, still naked and enjoying his pasta at the island.

“Ugh, I knew I should’ve eaten there,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh, come now, my table manners aren’t that bad,” he replied cheekily.

She didn’t reply. She just took her food to her room.

The next morning, Sebastian stretched very thoroughly after his run. He was still stretching when MC re-emerged from her room.

“Gods, I wasn’t assaulted with the sight of an arsehole this early in the morning when I lived in a castle full of cats,” she groused, shielding her eyes.

Sebastian, who had ironically been doing downward dog, pushed himself back up to standing. He rested his hands proudly on his bare hips. “What view would you prefer, love? I’m open to requests,” he replied, slightly out of breath.

“Any where you’re clothed,” she replied tetchily.

“Oh? You wanna swap? A little CMNF?” Sebastian quipped. “Kinky. I like it.”

“You’re depraved,” MC said.

“What?” Sebastian asked, feigning innocence. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And recently, too.”

MC’s cheeks flushed at that. She fled to the kitchen, and it wasn’t long before Sebastian heard the crack of disapparition announcing her departure.

Saturday morning, Sebastian opted for a different trope and did his weekend chores in the nude. He made sure he was in her sight line the entire time she cooked her breakfast. He might’ve felt guilty about it if he didn’t catch her stealing glances when she thought he couldn’t see her. He had a lot of reflective surfaces in his flat.

MC left late in the morning to go Merlin-knows-where, and Sebastian felt a sudden chill come over him. He checked his thermostat. It was set properly, but the current temperature read 15 degrees C. Sebastian grabbed a blanket and turned up the heat. Half an hour later, it hadn’t warmed, at all. His landlord took a look – for which Sebastian put clothes on – but he couldn’t find anything wrong with the furnace. Sebastian tried a warming charm, and when that didn’t help, he finally suspected his new flatmate was to blame.

He refused to give her the satisfaction of admitting his discomfort – or putting on clothing. He tried to research spells that might reverse it in his bedroom. When he heard MC return, he emerged naked from his room to get a glass of water. She just raised a brow at him. She clearly hadn’t expected him to be so committed.

Sebastian found a few spells to try, but none of them worked. Late at night, bundled under his covers, he decided that if he couldn’t counteract her spell, he would make her equally inconvenienced by it. He cast several spells before turning in for the night. The first transfigured all of her clothing into lingerie. The others prevented her from doing anything about it, including stealing any of his clothes.

Sunday morning, Sebastian woke up to find the flat disappointingly cold. He was sure MC wasn’t up yet, though, so he still had faith in his plan. He went for his usual run before stretching in the living room. He stalled as long as he cared to before going for a nice, hot shower. It chased the chill out of him, but he felt even colder as soon as he stepped out – even after a drying spell. Thank Merlin those still worked.

Sebastian trekked out to the kitchen, trying not to shiver. He checked the thermostat on the way. He did a doubletake. It was only 5C in his flat. He schooled his features before continuing to the kitchen. Even so, his eyebrow shot up when he saw MC.

She was leaned back against the counter eating her porridge clad in a sheer lace bra and pants. Both of which were Slytherin green. Sebastian had to take a moment to admire his own handiwork. It was a class set.

MC had spotted him instantly, and Sebastian quickly gave her a wolfish grin. “Trying to seduce me?” he asked playfully. Because it’s working, he thought as he devoured the sight of her. He could see her areolas through the lace of her bra. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting them.

MC scoffed at him. “Hardly,” she replied before taking another bite of her food. “I mean, it’s not like you could do anything even if you wanted to.”

Sebastian didn’t like the accusing way she pointed her spoon at his cock.

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that,” he replied arrogantly.

“Yeah?”

MC didn’t look convinced as she moved to put her empty bowl on the counter. Her tongue ran out over her lips, and Sebastian’s eyes tracked its movement. A glistening sheen was left on her pink lips. He didn’t know how they weren’t blue with how frigid she’d made his flat. She looked warm. He was very tempted to walk over to her and find out just how warm she was.

“You really think you can get it up when it’s so cold?” she challenged, raising a sceptical eyebrow at him.

Sebastian’s eyes were still trained on her plump lips. He really shouldn’t have skipped masturbating multiple mornings in a row. Now he was imagining those plump lips wrapped around his cock. Her hot mouth taking him in.

He could only nod in response.

She cocked her head to the side with feigned curiosity. “You think you can get hard enough to fuck my tits?” she asked huskily.

Sebastian’s eyes flicked down to her breasts as she pushed them together. “I bet you can picture it – your cock slipping between them. This lace you’ve made barely covers anything.”

He could picture it. In exquisite detail. The image had him practically panting. Suspicion niggled in the back of Sebastian’s mind. Why was she trying to rile him up if she hated him?

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

She scoffed as she let her breasts drop. “Proving that you’re delusional. I could hop on this counter and play with myself or rub my tits in your face, and you’d still be flaccid as a flobberworm.”

Sebastian swallowed a moan at the thought of her doing either. Or both. Gods, she was trying to kill him. He could feel heat building in his abdomen. “Why don’t you test that theory?” he asked, trying to cover his hopefulness with cockiness.

MC rolled her eyes. “Not bloody likely. Besides, you were always a bit of an arse man, weren’t you?”

She turned away from him and leaned over the counter. Sebastian’s breath hitched as his gaze traced the line of her G-string until it disappeared between her arse cheeks.

“You used to love taking me from behind. And you always got off on marking my arse…”

It was like she had been reading his mind, as he had just been picturing sinking his teeth into those round cheeks. Fuck, did she want him to take her? Was that what was going on?

“…smacking it, biting it…” she continued.

She looked over her shoulder at him with a smirk playing on her lips. His eyes flicked up to hers, which were heavy-lidded and calling him closer. He took a stumbling step forward.

“Coming all over it,” she said as if the thought of it went straight to her clit. She clasped her bottom lip between her teeth.

Sebastian groaned as his gaze fell back to her arse. He could picture it coated in ropes of his seed, dripping down her smooth skin. Gods, he ached to make it a reality.

“Oh, shite,” she said suddenly. Her voice was no longer sultry – it was fearful. She quickly turned back around.

Sebastian looked up to see her staring at his hard prick like it might bite her. Sebastian’s brow furrowed in confusion. She had clearly been trying to turn him on, and now that she had it…frightened her?

“You’re fucking pathetic,” she growled, but Sebastian could still hear the fear edging into her voice. She quickly brushed past him, running to her room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Sebastian was left dumbfounded. And still very aroused. He decided to take care of that latter problem first, so he’d have a clearer head for figuring out what the fuck had just happened.

He retreated to his room before silencing it. He pulled open the drawer in his bedside table and grabbed the scrap of lace inside. He raised them to his nose and breathed in her scent. It made his eyes roll back as a flood of memories hit him. Merlin, she’d always smelled so good.

He lay in bed, propped up on a pillow. After casting a wandless lubrication charm, he set to work. His hand glided up and down his shaft, squeezing a bit tighter as he stroked over the head. He took another deep inhale. He imaged they were the dark green knickers he’d seen her in only a moment ago, soaked in her scent from getting off on teasing him – on seeing how hard he’d gotten for her.

He kept her actual horrified expression far from his mind, focusing on the good bits: her arse on display for him, her nipples through the sheer lace, her teeth sunk into her lip as she looked back at him, shoving her tits together and telling him to imagine fucking them. I’m imagining it now, love.

He imagined the doe-eyed expression she’d look up at him with while his cock slipped between her breasts – having his way with them until he couldn’t take it anymore and he needed to bury himself inside her. He pictured himself being the one to tear off her clothes, instead of that knob from the other night, and flip her face-down on the bed. Or maybe he’d leave the knickers on her, just tugging them to the side when the time came. Until then, he’d bite marks into her skin and soothe them with his tongue. He’d slip his hand under the lace, teasing her clit with her arse in the air until she begged him to fuck her.

He wrapped the knickers around the base of his cock, while he kept fisting the rest of it. As his hand sped up, he imagined pounding into her from behind with her G-string still on. He imagined her whimpering for him and calling out his name. He’d do the thing properly, making her climax until she couldn’t think straight.

As his skin warmed with his efforts, the smell of her in the air grew stronger.

Sebastian fantasised about MC coming on his cock, and it was almost enough. It was a mixture of memory and imagination. He combined the sounds he knew she made when climaxing with the image of her lingerie-clad as he fucked her into his mattress. He could make it a reality if she’d stop being so sodding stubborn. He knew part of her wanted it – wanted him. He could see it in the way she looked at him.

He imagined her storming in now to yell at him about something else, catching him with her knickers around his dick as he jerked off. She’d be irate, and he’d shut her up by stuffing her mouth full of his cock. If she was good, he’d reward her by fucking her instead of spilling down her throat. He imagined taking her against his door. She’d cry out in pleasure as he made her body sing.

“Oh, fuck! Yes! I…I’m–”

Sebastian came with a loud groan to the image of MC coming undone. Her trembling legs barely able to hold her up. Her nails biting into his shoulders. His name on her lips.

He semen shot out in hot spurts, painting his stomach. But it quickly grew cold with the frigid temperature of the room. He was spent, and he felt a twinge of sorrow at the fact that it meant he was done. He wouldn’t’ve been if he had actually been with MC. He’d make her come, and then he’d come inside her, and then he’d make her come several more times after that. He loved overstimulating her, winding her up until she couldn’t take it anymore. She always came harder that way – if he took his time getting there. He loved having her so fucked-out that she was boneless and sleepy. Satisfied like only he could do. He’d hold her, and she’d fall right asleep.

Sebastian got up and cleaned himself off with a wave of his wand before extricating MC’s tattered knickers from his softening cock. He dressed and sat on the side of his bed for a while. Post-nut clarity was not as helpful as he had hoped. He had no idea how to interpret MC’s behaviour that day – let alone how to fix his strained relationship with her. He did feel quite certain that he should restore her clothes to their prior states, though.

Sebastian removed all the spells he had cast. He left to take a walk to clear his head. When he returned several hours later – he had stopped in a café for a leisurely lunch – he still had no additional insights. Though, he did feel that the flat had become noticeably warmer. A check of the thermostat confirmed his suspicion that MC had lifted whatever spell she had cast.

When he made dinner that evening, he caught sight of MC heading out. He didn’t bother engaging with her. He had no idea what to say, and he wasn’t sure he’d want to talk even if he did. He felt confused and…rejected, in a way. He wished he knew why she had been trying to work him up. Was she genuinely interested and just freaked out at the last second? Had she merely wanted to prove she could wind him up? Did she just want to see him suffer? He wished he could bring her into an interrogation room and not come out until he had answers.

Another idea struck Sebastian, and he put it into action the following morning. He skipped his run and made breakfast, instead. When he heard MC stirring in her room, he put on a kettle, as well. He prepped a thermos with a tea bag and a splash of clear liquid from a vial. Veritaserum. He’d used it in plenty of interrogations. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t allowed to use it outside of work. However, he was desperate. He felt like he was going insane with the emotional whiplash MC was putting him through. He needed answers.

MC emerged from her room just as Sebastian finished fixing her tea. She came to the kitchen, probably drawn by the smell of food. He offered her a plate and a thermos.

“It’s a peace offering,” he explained when she eyed them sceptically. She always did have good instincts. Nothing quite so damning as Sofia’s abilities, but she still had a keen sense when things were off.

“Thanks,” she said rather grumpily before taking them. If she still suspected anything, she didn’t show it as she took a bite of her eggs and a swig from the thermos.

“Can I ask you something?” Sebastian said, trying to sound unassuming.

“You can, but I have absolutely no interest in answering, so it’d be a waste of breath,” MC said acridly.

Sebastian scowled. He knew she was being blunt, not intentionally hurtful. That made it sting worse, because she meant it. “I don’t know why you keep insisting on being such a bitch,” he complained.

It was unfair. He knew exactly why she’d said what she did, but his feelings were rather raw after the plethora of unkind words she’d managed to pack into conversation over the last week. She’d have to forgive him if he was a bit defensive. Not that he actually expected her to.

“And I don’t know why you can’t just accept that I want nothing to do with you,” she bit back.

He clamped his jaw shut before he said something really senseless. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? Surely, no answer was worth this torment.

“Thanks for breakfast,” MC said in a clipped tone. She snatched up her bacon and stormed over to her cloak.

She struggled a bit to put it on. She held her bacon precariously between her ring and pinkie fingers of the hand holding the thermos, which already had her wand between the index and middle ones. She looked like an elderly version of the muggle superhero Wolverine (Niko had shown him some films), with her rusty claws at odd angles from severe rheumatism. She held the collar of her cloak with her teeth and slipped her free arm into it.

Continuing the valiant effort of donning her the thing, she swapped her wand first, having belatedly realised she could stow it in her pocket. She did a bit of wild gesticulating as she tried to get the fabric to stop folding over on itself so she could access said pocket. All she succeeded in was causing the sleeve she had managed to get on to slip off her shoulder and pool at her elbow. She then gave up on the concept of pockets entirely and held her wand between her teeth, instead. Swapping the thermos and bacon to the hand of her sleeved arm, she twisted her free arm at an uncomfortable-looking angle behind herself to fish out the opening to the second sleeve. She tilted awkwardly toward her relatively bare arm, utilising gravity quite cunningly to shift the excess fabric closer to the searching hand.

There was no cry of victory when it found its target, despite what Sebastian might’ve expected. MC merely straightened her cloak, let out a disgruntled exhale, grasped her wand, and disapparated immediately. The whole ordeal would’ve been quite hilarious if Sebastian hadn’t just been thoroughly chastened. Still, once she had gone, he let out a sharp exhale that resembled something of a laugh.

It was only as they all gathered around Jari in the training room that Sebastian processed the fact that he’d sent MC to work with a thermos full of truth serum. The realisation hit him like a bombarda to the chest as he watched her take a sip of the spiked brew.

That wasn’t likely to end well.

“All right, everyone, we’re taking the training wheels off today,” Jari announced, and a quick glance around the room told Sebastian that no one else had felt like they’d been operating with “training wheels,” either. “Today we’re testing – and, hopefully, improving – your endurance. So, be prepared to be run into the ground, or leave now.”

Sebastian had never seen Jari so stern – other than when he had claimed to have smacked MC on the arse last week, of course. No one dared so much as groan as Jari dove into details. MC, however, seemed to mumble something to Sofia, who had to stifle a laugh. It was the last any of them made any noise that could be construed as joyful that morning, because Jari made good on his promise of running them into the ground.

It was more than running, though. Jari conjured all sorts of obstacle courses and rough terrain, none of which were static. All of the landscapes seemed intent on altering themselves in whatever way would make crossing through them most difficult for each individual person. They ran, leapt, dived, tumbled, climbed, and, in most of their cases, stumbled until their muscles felt like they’d never have the strength to contract again. It was only the strength of Sebastian’s pride that allowed him to walk to the locker room afterward instead of crawling there.

The training had been so gruelling that he entirely forgot he had meant to try to snatch MC’s thermos from her without her noticing.

Conversation at the lunch table was sparse. Most people looked like they’d rather take a nap in their food than eat it as they sagged over their trays. Sebastian, for one, thought his potatoes looked like they’d make a decent enough pillow.

“I’m definitely going to need the sauna after today,” Mikko said, and the noise made Sebastian’s lolling head snap up.

“Ugh, I’ll never step inside one of those bloody things again,” MC whinged.

“I thought you said you liked it!” Mikko replied, somehow having the energy to sound aghast.

“Well, the sauna itself was nice at first,” MC explained. “It’s just that the company was shite.”

MC gave Sebastian a pointed glare, and he looked down at his tray in shame. That conversation hadn’t been one of his finer moments.

“I’ll take you myself this time,” Mikko offered. “You’ll love it if you get the authentic Finnish experience.”

That was when it started to go tits up.

“You know, when you first mentioned Finnish relaxation methods last week, I thought you were going to offer yourself,” MC admitted.

Sebastian blinked slowly. Was she saying what he thought she was? Or was he so knackered that his mind was inventing reasons to be jealous?

Mikko clearly took the statement the same way Sebastian had. “I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I wasn’t trying to suggest anything,” the lad said earnestly.

MC shrugged easily. “Oh, I wasn’t offended. I would’ve accepted if you had been offering,” she stated.

Sebastian’s life nearly ended right there at that table as he inhaled his bite of sausage rather than swallowing it. His eyes watered as he coughed it back out. Despite his near-death experience, he was much more concerned with what was happening at the other end of the table.

Mikko looked mortified. Sofia looked to be in shock.

MC’s eyes widened in horror as she seemed to only process her words after they’d already exited her mouth.

“You just look like you’d give a lady a good time, you know?” she blurted out before quickly slapping her hand over her mouth.

That was the moment Sebastian remembered the veritaserum.

Fuck.

He wondered if he could vanish the thermos right then without it being too incriminating. Little did he know that he was already too late.

“You’re, um, very flattering,” Mikko said uncomfortably, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“I’m so sorry!” MC said, uncovering her mouth briefly. “I don’t know where that–”

A dark look crossed her features as her eyes slid to Sebastian. He felt closer to death than he had with the sausage obstructing his lungs.

“You adolescent twat!” she hissed at Sebastian as she rocketed to her feet.

He could only cower, giving her an apologetic look that he knew was too little, too late.

She chucked the whole thermos into a nearby bin and marched out of the cafeteria without so much as a backward glance. Once she was gone, though, everyone else looked directly at him. He wanted to slip under the table.

“Can we just leave it at I’m an adolescent twat?” he asked.

Fortunately, everyone was too tired to press him for details. For now.

Sebastian spent the rest of training that day pretending he didn’t exist and doing his best to avoid anything that would alert others to the contrary. Nevertheless, MC acknowledged that he was there on her way out.

“We’re gonna have a chat tonight,” she’d demanded without so much as slowing her steps.

He was in no position to refuse.

“What did you do?” Niko, who was sat across from him, inquired in a hushed voice.

Sebastian let his head fall forward and smack into the table. “I just wanted some answers, but I went about it the wrong way and cocked it all up,” he said.

Niko tilted his head as he observed his despondent friend. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. “Sepe, you didn’t!” he hissed.

Sebastian raised his head slightly, looking up at him guiltily.

“That’s il–” Niko started to say.

“I know!” Sebastian hissed back, cutting him off. He crossed his arms as he sat back in his chair.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sebastian,” Niko said, obviously still taken aback. “What the hell did you need to know that badly?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sebastian replied tersely. “I didn’t find out, anyway.”

Niko looked sceptical. “Well, it mattered enough for you to break–”

“Niko!” Sebastian said in a warning tone.

The younger aurori finally got the good sense to drop the subject.

When Sebastian arrived at home after completing his usual cleaning duties, MC was waiting in the living room with her hands on her hips and murder in her eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she demanded.

Sebastian flinched away from her. “I didn’t mean for you to take the tea to training,” he said. He knew it didn’t fix it, but still he needed her to know.

“So, you just meant to dose me privately?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. “Yes, that’s so much better!”

“I just wanted some answers,” he replied weakly.

He knew it was a mistake. He had just felt so desperate, and it seemed like the only option at the time.

“And you drugged me to get them!” she screeched.

“Would you have given any otherwise?” he asked defensively.

“No!” she replied. “And I have every right not to! I don’t owe you any explanations!”

Sebastian snapped his mouth shut. She was right. He shouldn’t have tried to force her to talk to him. He wasn’t entitled to know her thoughts if she wasn’t willing to share them. He should’ve known better, especially after experiencing working with Sofia for a year.

“Gods, you’re so bloody entitled, you know that?” MC continued, as if she’d stolen the word right from his mind.

Sebastian didn’t have the energy to keep arguing. The whole day – the whole week, really – had been too much. “I just want to understand, or…or to get closure,” he said, so quiet he was almost inaudible.

“So did I – three years ago. I moved on, Sebastian! I just want to survive this week so I can go back home and forget it ever happened!”

Moved on. To Sebastian, that sounded about as possible as bringing Anne back. There hadn’t been a day since her funeral that he didn’t wonder what would’ve happened if he’d stayed with MC. The thought of never seeing her again almost broke him.

 “Well, I don’t!” he replied, his voice cracking. He had stepped closer to her, wanting to take her in his arms so she couldn’t slip away. But he had stopped himself.

“I don’t care!” she yelled, exasperated.

The words were devastating. She didn’t want to reconcile. She just wanted to be rid of him again. Sebastian didn’t know how to live with that. “I don’t know how to fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he said, defeated.

“You can’t!” she insisted as if it were and obvious fact.

“I can’t accept that,” he stated. He could feel tears starting to sting his eyes, which had become an all-too-frequent state for him lately.

MC groaned in frustration before evidently deciding the conversation was no longer worth having as she headed for her room.

“We’re not done here!” he said as he followed her.

“I am!” she replied before her door slammed shut in his face.

Sebastian tried to open it, but it was locked. “MC, let me in,” he said, feeling desperation begin to clench hold of his chest.

There was no response.

“MC, please,” he begged, jiggling the handle again.

Still nothing.

He knocked on the door. “MC!” he called louder in case she’d thrown in earbuds or shut herself in her bathroom.

He waited several minutes, but there wasn’t a sound from her room. He sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as if it could stem the flow of frustrated tears slipping down his cheeks. He dragged himself to his room before he started sobbing.

Things did not improve for him the following morning when all of his hair fell out in the shower. Sebastian’s first thought was that it was some sort of stress response. However, he spotted streaks of hairless skin down his upper arms and torso in the mirror and put together that his shampoo had been tampered with. He didn’t take it well, saying some unfortunate words to MC before she left. He’d been infuriated by the levity she had about the situation. It felt like apathy. Like he was a temporary nuisance, not an intertwined part of her past.

That was to say nothing of the fact that MC used to be borderline obsessed with his locks. She had always had a hand buried in them when they snogged or had sex. She’d play with his hair at the nape of his neck while they studied or card her fingers through it while he rested his head in her lap. He could always get her going after a duel by letting his hair fall in his eyes a bit and looking at her through his lashes. Sweaty, bleeding, dusty from the floor of the Undercroft – it didn’t matter. She’d jump on him like a broomstick at the start of a quidditch match.

It was a clear “fuck you” to get rid of it. As well as an “I’m never fucking you again, to be clear.”

Sebastian was still fuming when he arrived at the training room. He’d tried every spell he could find to fix things before he came in, but there was nothing for it. He needed a professional’s help, so he settled for covering up his bald head.

“Nice beanie,” Niko said brightly.

“Shut up,” Sebastian grumbled to the confusion of the young lad.

Sebastian could hear MC snicker, “He’s on his monthly.”

He glared at her. MC just smiled and waggled her fingers in a taunting wave. Jari took their focus as he rounded them up for training. The whole morning, Sebastian struggled to keep his cap in place. He felt more naked without his hair than he had parading around his flat starkers.

Once the physical training was over, he took a lightning-quick shower and headed for his hairdresser’s. “Antonio!” he called desperately as soon as he stepped into the shop.

The man rushed out from the back. “Sebastian?” he said, bewildered. “I didn’t think we had an appointment today.”

“We don’t, I’m sorry. But…it’s an emergency,” Sebastian replied, sliding his knit cap off.

The man’s hand flew to cover his mouth. “Sit,” he demanded.

Sebastian quickly complied, and Antonio set to work. He slathered his freckled head with several salves. After a series of spells, brown hairs extended from Sebastian’s roots like new grass from seed. It grew out to chin length, and then Antonio began to trim it to its former perfection. During the process, Sebastian poured out his heart about the last week of his life.

“This is that girl you’ve been hung up on since forever?” Antonio asked. Of anyone in Finland, he probably knew the most about Sebastian’s personal life.

“The very same,” he confirmed.

“What are the odds?” the hairdresser mused.

“Indeed,” Sebastian agreed.

“Can I give you some friendly advice?” Antonio asked cautiously, pausing his cutting.

Sebastian met his eye in the mirror. “Please do.”

The man rested one hand on his hip as he levelled Sebastian with a firm gaze. “If you want a prayer of getting another shot with this girl, stop playing games,” he said, pointing his sharp scissors accusingly at Sebastian’s reflection. “Just be honest with her and ask her out.”

Sebastian shook his head in disbelief. “But she still hates me.”

Antonio gave him a pitying look. “But at least she’d know how you feel about her. You broke her heart. You can’t expect her to throw herself at you without even knowing that you’re committed this time.”

Sebastian felt a twist of anxiety in his stomach. He didn’t like the idea at all. However, the man was a good few years older and happily married, so it was probably worth considering. “I’ll think about it.”

By the time the group was entering the conference room, Sebastian was already in his seat. His stomach was empty, but his head was no longer bare. He noted the double-take MC did at him. He couldn’t tell if she gaped at him merely out of surprise, or if he might’ve caught a hint of longing in her expression.

Once everyone was sat, Jari started their lesson. Sebastian listened to Jari go in-depth on the intricacies of undercover operations, but he didn’t process any of the visual aids. He was focused on his peripheral vision, where he thought he’d seen MC’s gaze linger on him. Soon enough, she glanced his way. Then, she stared openly at him. After relishing having her attention, Sebastian turned his toward her.

When he caught her eye, MC flushed pink, knowing she was caught. It was adorable, and he couldn’t help but feel smug about it. MC looked determinedly toward Jari’s slides. Sebastian took a few more moments to appreciate how much her blush suited her before doing the same. He saw her glancing over several more times, but he didn’t turn to look again. Maybe Antonio was onto something.

When Jari finally released them, Sebastian rushed to follow MC out of the conference room. “Gods, I’m starving. I had to miss lunch to go to my hairdresser’s,” he said genially.

“I didn’t realise you were so vain,” MC replied harshly.

Sebastian smirked at her attempt to deflect. “You seemed to think it was worth it.”

MC rolled her eyes, refusing to confirm the fact but not refuting it, either. She avoided even looking at him, probably knowing her face would give her away either by blushing or her eyes flicking up to drink in the sight of his freshly styled mane.

Sebastian, realising she was going to make this difficult, jogged ahead of her. He spun around to face her and began walking backwards. Just ask her out. “Let’s go out to dinner,” he said.

MC’s eyebrows shot up. At least she didn’t look disgusted by the idea. “Together?”

“Obviously,” Sebastian replied with an easy grin. He still felt hopeful. She’d been gawking at him all meeting just because she’d been caught off guard that he had his hair back. That had to mean something.

At least, Sebastian had felt hopeful until MC scoffed at him. “Don’t you have cleaning to do?” she asked patronisingly.

He shrugged the comment off. “I can do it after,” he said simply, fighting to keep his smile. “So, how about it?”

She frowned at him. “No.”

Sebastian was taken aback. He’d genuinely expected that to work. “What d’you mean ‘no’?”

“It means that I don’t want to go to dinner with you,” MC explained as if he were hopelessly thick.

He cocked his head to the side. “Why not? You obviously still fancy me.”

MC bristled. “Hardly.”

She was being ridiculous. “You were staring at me all meeting, love.”

His suave ease at the assertion was somewhat undercut as he backed right into a wall.

MC quickly darted around him. “I was not.”

She pushed open the door to the outside, and he followed her out as she made for the alley.

Sebastian was certain she was just lying now. “Oh, you absolutely were,” he argued, still grinning. “Why can’t you just admit that you’re still interested?”

“Because I’m not,” she bit out, marching ahead.

That didn’t add up. The lingerie. The teasing. The staring. She had to still have feelings for him. Sebastian decided to push back.

“No? And parading around half-naked this weekend was for what exactly?”

She didn’t even look back. “You were the one who turned all my clothes into lingerie! And you were walking around fully naked.”

Sebastian smirked as he remembered how she’d leered at him. “I just find it comfortable. It’s how I dress in my flat when I don’t have a houseguest. But you’re trying to tell me there’s no part of you that’s even the least bit curious about getting dinner?”

He arched a brow as he questioned her.

MC whipped around. “None,” she asserted firmly, her fiery eyes boring into his. “There is no force on this planet that could make me want to rehash our relationship.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh at her insistence in the face of the truth. “Want to try that again after you’ve sipped some tea?”

MC’s face twisted with rage. Sebastian could admit that it probably hadn’t been the best idea to bring up the spiked brew.

“Gladly!” she spat. “I’d sooner cut off all four limbs than come crawling back to you – the absolute worst mistake of my life!”

Sebastian gaped at her as he absorbed the venomous words. Whatever attraction she felt toward him, her hatred clearly vastly outweighed it. He considered leaving her to be his worst mistake, but hers was ever being with him in the first place. The tainted dark wizard who did nothing but cause her pain. He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He began to tremble – maybe from the cold, though he suspected it was more to do with his body trying to hold itself together as his world fell apart.

MC disapparated, and Sebastian was alone.

It felt like someone else did the cleaning while Sebastian just floated up near the rafters. He didn’t even feel the bite of the wind as he left the headquarters. But he was acutely aware of the persistent ache in his chest, and he wanted to dull that immediately. He forewent his usual pub in favour of a nightclub. The pounding music drowned out his thoughts, and the alcohol took care of everything else.

The bartender set down a shot, and Sebastian downed it. A laugh burst out from him. It sounded foreign – unnatural.

“Hey! That was my gigglewater!” a witch beside him chided in Finnish.

“Sorry. I’ll buy you another,” Sebastian said, slurring slightly as he shouted over the music.

The woman eyed him for a moment. “Dance with me, instead,” she shouted back.

Without waiting for an answer, she took his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. She pressed in close to him, letting her hands and body make liberal contact with him. He was still rather numb from it all. But if nothing else, it was nice to be with a witch who didn’t hate him with every fibre of her being.

After a few songs, Sebastian let his hands wander over her body. Then, he was snogging her in the middle of the nightclub. That turned into feeling her up at the back of the establishment until she purred in his ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

She had said lots of things before then, too, but Sebastian couldn’t really remember any of it. Including her name, though that was hardly of consequence. He wasn’t even sure if he’d told her his.

Sebastian gripped her hand and apparated them to his flat. It had been a very ill-advised move given how intoxicated he was, but they’d landed safely in his bedroom by some miracle. The woman stripped Sebastian like she was being paid for it – he was fairly certain she wasn’t, though he really couldn’t be sure. He untied the halter neck on her dress, freeing her tits for his groping pleasure. He didn’t get long with them, though, before she dropped to her knees.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart!” Sebastian said as she bobbed on his prick. He always tried to show his appreciation for any woman willing to go down on him.

He tried to lose himself in the pleasure, his hands gripping into the edge of the mattress as he leaned against his bed. Then, his door banged open.

“Sebastian Bartholomew Sallow, what on earth is going on here?” MC bellowed, snapping his attention to her.

Well, the woman certainly knew his name now.

Speaking of, she had popped off his cock as she gaped at MC, then up at him. Sebastian realised why the witch looked so shell-shocked when he saw MC’s swollen belly. Surely, she hadn’t let that bellend get her up the duff? No, that didn’t make sense. She wouldn’t be showing yet.

Sebastian’s mental calculations were cut short as the witch got to her feet and started screaming in Finnish.

“You vile son of a bitch! You have a wife? And she’s pregnant? I hope you burn at the stake, you bastard!”

She slapped him across the face before storming out. He was just glad she hadn’t gone for his bits, frankly.

“You deserve so much better,” she said to MC on her way out.

She left the flat with a pop.

Sebastian sighed as he looked back to MC. “I was quite enjoying that…” he whinged. His eyes flicked from her “wedding band” to her stomach. Pregnancy suited her, he thought, and a rather base urge to fill her up for real swelled up in him. If she wanted to play house, then he’d play.

Sebastian smirked at her. “It only seems right you should finish the job, Mrs. Sallow.”

MC scoffed and looked at him derisively. “Fair’s fair. You ruined my last orgasm,” she argued. Unfortunately, she transfigured away the ring and pregnancy belly. “Besides, I did her a favour keeping her away from you.”

Sebastian ignored her dig at him and focused on the bit about her orgasms. “You haven’t come since before you fucked that prick in my bed?”

He slinked toward her, crossing the room as he held her gaze. MC glared back at him, but he didn’t let it deter him. He knew he could light her nerves on fire if she’d just let him.

“Actually, he made me come first. He was just going for round two,” she said snidely.

Sebastian scowled. Making her come was his job – one he’d been very, very good at. “What a bloody gentleman,” he spat out. “But you’re not denying that you haven’t come since.”

MC just rolled her eyes.

Sebastian’s smirk returned. Her silence was confirmation enough. “I could help you with that.”

Aside from the aching erection he was sporting, he felt quite desperate to please his witch again – both because she looked so gorgeous when she came and because he wanted to take care of her. He could remind her how good he’d made her feel. He could show her that he wasn’t a mistake.

MC stepped back as Sebastian closed in on her. She only looked all the more furious with him. “Are you really coming onto me while your dick’s still wet from some slag’s mouth?”

“You sound jealous,” he said huskily. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he believed it.

Sebastian bit his lip as he closed the remaining gap with MC. He looked down into her wide eyes as he ran the backs of his fingers down her the soft skin of her upper arm. It broke out in goose pimples.

“You sound insane,” MC shot back before storming out.

She rushed out of his room before his ethanol-infused muscles could react to grab her. Her door slammed shut. Once again, he was alone.

He took a futile shower – it would never be able to clean him of his real filth – before flopping into bed. The booze helped him fall asleep quickly, but it was hardly restful.

The next morning, the situation remained the same as he awoke with a pounding headache to an empty flat. As he sobered up that morning, it dawned on him that he hadn’t exactly put Antonio’s advice into practice the previous night. Sure, he’d asked MC out, but he hadn’t been honest with her about his feelings. Perhaps that bit was the most important. At the very least, it might give him closure. Maybe he didn’t need to know where he stood with MC to get it – he hadn’t liked what he had gathered so far, anyway. Maybe he just needed her to know how he felt about her.

Next chapter.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #toxic relationship

[jamie-draws-huddle-of-art]

This is Cyanide, who is a Plaguebringer hybrid- who used to be on SCAR’S side. His mom is (I still need to make her lolololo) and his dad is Vx who is related to Scar. He might look all threatening with his long teeth and his tall stature, but he’s honestly a sweet guy. He’s an older teenager who hangs out with others of the same age in a rogue unit. He’s always enjoyed company, whether it’s talking about his interests or doing wellness checks on the people around him, he’s always felt like it was the right thing to do because you never know who’s suffering and how. Well, until they tell you. Now he’s been the one telling others how he feels instead of bottling it up and letting it ruin him. Other ways he’s come up with to keep bad things at bay is to run every morning. This often leads into hunts of capybara or any critter he stumbles upon, which he usually gives the recently killed meat to his newfound and close friends. Nothing like a breakfast in bed! On the topic of beds he loves weaving things for his friends- hammocks, pillows, and other essentials. You can say it’s a small hobby of his, or a demonstration of how much he cares about being generous, about giving back to people. He feels like he took so much from his family, but he felt that it was necessary to leave his old life behind and start a new one. You can sometimes see him ruminating on past actions, peering at his old uniform. The uniform his dad tailored just for him, that spiked pauldron his mom bought, the badge his uncle bestowed upon him. He could probably still use his comm badge. But then they’d find him and bring him back to a life he wishes to forgive himself for living. All those people. They died by his teeth, by his claws- sure they were ordered by the people he was closest to but it still wasn’t right. He should have stood up for what he believes. He wants to instill that strong sense of belief in others, like his friends. He wants to show them they can go beyond their instincts, beyond their programming. But at the same time; he’s still figuring out how to eat zombie meat rather than fresher kills. How can he lead them to a better future when he’s still struggling with the urge to kill? How can he lie to them like that? I mean, for a decent amount of time he was able to choke down those horrid undead creatures but he couldn’t take that meat in anymore. It’s like his own body wouldn't allow for that rotten meat to go down. He must have gotten used to always having a full belly, he never starved as a child- always had something to eat; jerky bags, honey his father made and his mom’s hunts she usually brought in- alive. She’d teach him ‘the skills of hunting! Of killing your morsels before you ate them, out of respect which is the least you can give to your meal. All that stuff he remembered; All that stuff he was taught which feels so double edged. He can’t deny he misses his cousins and uncle and aunt in some fashion, and especially his brother and sister. He’d been wanting to teach them the ways of hunting like mom, like dad taught him, all those late night prowls feeling yourself and the environment around you. Your antennae flick at the movement of a potential meal. Will you strike or let it live to another day? Those are questions Cyanide just thought about, it wasn’t deep. It was yes and no, not a blurred line. Everything's so blurred to him and the only way to live is through seeing others happy, he feels like he can’t have that happiness himself. 

A few misc facts about him

He has toxic breath which depending on what he eats will just knock you out or be fatal. If he hyperventilates a bunch of people are going to get knocked out lol. He smells like mustard or burning lime, depending on toxicity levels. Lime is mild, burning lime will knock you out, mustard smell is death.

He’s pretty tall, like 13 feet. That’s because his dad’s a Goliath and his mom is a hybrid like him. So ¾ goliath ¼ normal model.

He’s got thick armor, it’s really hard to penetrate but it’s also heavy- he doesn’t really fly much especially since that makes him hongry. But he does enjoy flying.

#digital art #artists on tumblr #artwork #terraria calamity #alternate universe #Plaguebringer #terraria calamity mod #fan character