#she’s the kind of person who always wants class to get out early she never likes taking up the full 50 minutes which is valid

[thoughtidtry]

Dress pt.1 - LN

SUMMARY: Lando's best friend can't keep pretending he's not her everything. Not after missing seeing him in person for so long. PAIRING: Lando Norris X LongDistanceBestfriendfem!reader A/N: Inspired by Lando's race win and song Dress by Taylor Swift. First time publishing my fanfics so I’d love to hear what you think! Almost 2K..... I'll do a pt.2 cause I still have more thoughts on Lando with this song.

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"Our secret moments in a crowded room. They got no idea about me and you"

Lando couldn't stop smiling at his phone in the paddock, not when you were the one texting him. All the drivers knew about his best friend, who they never got to meet.

"She's a busy person"

He would declare anytime they teased him about meeting you or asked if you were coming to a race. It wasn't that he didn't want you to come or that he didn't want you to meet the other drivers, more he didn't want to share your time. He wasn't lying to them per se you were busy and had moved to America for university as soon as you both had graduated secondary school. It didn't matter he had never actually invited you to a race.

"I'm spilling wine in the bathtub. You kiss my face and we're both drunk"

He could remember the night or well day you left like it was yesterday. The night before your flight, he had stayed over to spend as much time with you as possible. The giggles you made sneaking back into your room after your parents had gone to bed were almost as intoxicating as the wine you had brought back. You both stayed up drinking and reminiscing over the years you had spent together.

Somehow you had both ended up in the bathroom attached to your room. Too drunk to sit let alone stand, you had made yourself comfortable in the bathtub while he was seated beside you leaning up against it. He doesn't remember what was said or how it happened, but he will never forget how soft your lips felt against his or how you sighed after the kiss with a dopey grin as if a weight had been lifted off your chest.

The next morning he woke up in your bed but you were nowhere to be seen. A note on the bedside table along with some pain meds was all that was left.

Tried to wake you to say bye before my flight, but you wouldn't wake up. I don't know how much we drank but I've got a killer headache and can't remember anything so thanks for that. Text me when you wake! Love, Y/N

You had always kept in contact but he never would tell you what happened that night. He didn't want to lose you even if that kiss would haunt him every time he closed his eyes. You managed the time difference well, never judging the other for being up or asleep at random times throughout the day.

Late-night calls when you wanted to tell him something funny between classes changed to funny things your friends had done once you graduated from university. Even the early morning drunken messages he'd get around the time he woke up were moments he cherished. He missed having you next to him. Wished you would come home, but you have your life now in America and found a good job after university.

"All of this silence and patience. Pinning and desperately waiting"

Little did Lando know, the other drivers had stolen his phone and gotten your number long ago just waiting for the right moment to use it. Daniel was the first to reach out and introduce himself explaining Lando had wanted to let you know his phone had died.

You had shrugged it off, with how much Lando talked about the other driver it didn't seem that surprising to you that Lando had given your number to him. It was no surprise to Daniel how friendly and kind you were, but how smart you were was a shock. He never would have imagined their little Lando was friends with a lawyer.

Carlos and Oscar followed soon after hearing more about you from Daniel. They both said they wanted to get some stories of Lando as a kid to make fun of him so they begged Daniel for your number and to not tell Lando. You had a laugh retelling stories to them both that you knew Lando would be embarrassed about.

Max and Charles on the other hand had respected Lando's privacy when it came to you until they were added to a group chat with you made by Oscar without Lando's knowledge.

You didn't speak to the other drivers much in the group chat so you had forgotten it existed most of the time. They would send you pictures of Lando doing goofy things every once in a while, but that was about it. Never once did you think to mention it to Lando, it was a little secret look into his world and the photos gave you a way to know he was having fun. They reminded you of all the good times you both had shared together.

"Flashback when you met me. Your buzzcut and my hair bleached. Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me."

Secondary school hadn't started out easily for you, having moved away from all of your primary school friends. As a farewell, you all decided to color each other's hair. You had ended up a platinum blonde which made you stand out even more on the first day of school. Making new friends was hard at first. Most of the time you felt alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

It was probably the worst time of your life looking back. At least until a boy with a cheeky grin and sassy comebacks made it his mission to befriend you. At first, you didn't know what to make of the boy. Turned out his friend group had done something similar to yours but had buzzed all their hair off instead of dyeing it. He saw the girl with good grades who sat alone every day not as a freak like everyone else but as someone worth taking a chance on. You had no right to fall as fast as you did, but you couldn't help it. He was funny, kind, and well perfect.

"Flashback to my mistakes. My rebounds, my earthquakes. Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me."

As secondary school went on, Lando changed, not as a person but physically. No longer was he the straggly, small, buzzcut kid. He got taller, grew his hair out, and even became charming in a way you would never have imagined. Looking back he could remember getting his first girlfriend and how excited he was only to have his heartbroken.

He dated around more from then on, never getting attached to another girl. By developing a confident and flirtatious appearance he could avoid being hurt again. It worked on everyone as he gained popularity, everyone except you. You saw him for who he really was, always there to catch him when the mask slipped off and he shattered on the ground. Something he would always appreciate you for.

"All of this silence and patience. Pinning and anticipation"

When the drivers had first approached you with their plan you were skeptical.

Would he even want to see me after all this time?

You thought. You two had always talked about meeting again but your schedules never aligned. He always had a race or you had a case that you couldn't miss. They talked about how Lando had seemed down the last couple of weeks while you had been busy with a case, how they thought he missed you, and that they had a race in America soon. Blowing care to the wind you agreed. How could you miss the chance to see him again?

Clutching the hem of your shirt as you walked into the paddock for the first time, Daniel was waiting past security to show you around. Oscar had been able to pull some strings and get you a Race Day VIP pass without Lando knowing. You texted in the group chat and Daniel had been sent to come get you so Lando wouldn't notice. He couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to see the look on Lando's face as you two walked.

"Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend."

Soon enough Lando's laughter fills the air as Carlos holds his shoulder while bending over in laughter as well. You stood still for a moment watching to carve this memory of him into your mind before moving closer.

You smiled a bit to yourself, he was always the life of the party, always finding a way to make everyone around him laugh, and as always oblivious to his surroundings. He was still the same Lando you had fallen for all those years ago.

"Hey, Lan."

You said once you were a few feet away. Lando froze for a moment before turning around to look at you in shock. He couldn't believe you were here. Really here standing in the paddock only a few feet away next to Daniel of all people. He decided he didn't care how it happened only that it did.

Your hands started to shake as he stared at you. You wanted to hug him, kiss him, do something, but you were stuck. Stuck looking at him with hope in your eyes that he would say something, do something. Anything.

Carlos chucked at Lando's state before patting him on the back.

"Well, are you just gonna stand there? You know it took a lot of planning to get her here."

Lando snapped out of his trance, looking in between Carlos and you before breaking out in a sprint straight for you with the biggest smile on his face. He lifted you up by the waist spinning around with you in his arms.

It felt so good to have you in his arms again after all this time. At that moment, he realized it didn't matter how long it had been you were his home and he wasn't gonna let you go again.

#lando norris x reader #mutual pining #long distance romance #long distance friendship #lando norris #formula 1 #lando x reader #mclaren

[goldensunset]

every other professor whenever there are final presentations/performances/speeches/whatever that everyone has to do: hey presentations start on this day; we’ll take volunteers and try to get through as many as possible in one day, so this’ll probably take about 2 class periods if all goes well

this one professor: there are 6 groups that need to present. the presentation should be about 15 minutes. this class period is 50 minutes. therefore instead of doing 3 presentations per class period and getting through all of these in 2 classes making it so that y’all can get out of here an extra 2 days early we will schedule 2 presentations per class and stretch this thing out all the way until friday because i just know i’m the last thing keeping you here. it is locked in. also you cannot leave if your group has already presented you have to stay and listen to everyone else’s. i value your time a lot

#like ok i kinda get it .? but 3 presentations that are each at most 15 minutes would total 45 minutes we could handle that in one class #she’s the kind of person who always wants class to get out early she never likes taking up the full 50 minutes which is valid #except in this circumstance i feel like a LOT of us would rather just cram these all in and take a bit longer each day #because the payoff of leaving early at the end of the semester is very appealing to a lot of us #however i can’t really complain about her because this is the same prof who graciously agreed to move our final online #that otherwise would’ve been on the 16th which REALLY would’ve been the last thing holding me here #for an extra week and a half. after today. for no other reason #like i’m already getting to go home way earlier than i should but still! it would’ve been nice #although perhaps i shouldn’t be saying this because i am one of those two groups that’s going on friday lol #and our presentation isn’t quite done yet so we couldn’t have gone today even if she would’ve let us #but y’know if we had been told we were presenting earlier we could’ve gotten it done hey #we’re just not gonna do the work until the last minute we have to right #peach rambles

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.

[sweetbans29]

Eyes On You - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You catch Caitlin's eye during a game (based off of THIS request)

Warnings: fluff, flirting, ever so slightly suggestive

Word Count: 3.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Okay but tell me you haven't gone somewhere and actually imagined this happened because you would be lying...

It is a Tuesday afternoon when your friends practically beg you to go to the women's basketball game.

"Come on, it will be fun," one of your friends says. You shake your head no without looking up from your biology paper.

"I need to finish this paper, it is due Friday and I am nowhere near close to done," you say, typing a sentence only to delete it immediately after. For some reason, this research paper is just not coming together.

"We already got you a ticket, you are going." Your roommate states knowing the real reason you don't want to go and it has nothing to do with your paper.

The truth is there is a girl on the team who you have been crushing on for a while now. The two of you are in the same business marketing class. She caught your eye pretty early on. The two of you ended up sitting next to each other and would make small talk whenever you got to class. It was never anything major but it was always the highlight of your day. You would get back to your room and immediately tell your roommate about your little conversation with the star athlete.

That was the thing, when you were in class she wasn't the superstar, she was just Caitlin. She would make you laugh with some silly little comment and you would talk to her like she wasn't the biggest person at the school. She made you feel seen and you made her feel heard.

You close your laptop and give your roommate the death stare. She knew you would say no but got you a ticket anyway - knowing you would never go to the game without being forced. This is your roommate's push to finally show your interest outside of your small talk in class. If you were to ask her, she was sick of hearing you always talk about Caitlin and never taking action to show her you actually liked her.

You give in, knowing your roommate isn't going to budge and will literally drag you there with her bare hands.

The group of you head back to your apartment and get ready. You opt for a simple look - jeans and a Hawkeye hoodie. Your friends on the other hand were dressed to impress. You check yourself out in the mirror and question if you should change. You decided against changing and instead grabbed a Hawkeye ballcap, hoping to blend in with the crowd and not be seen by your favorite player.

All of you decided to walk to the game, it wasn't more than 20 minutes away from your apartment. The closer you got to the stadium, the more nervous you felt. You have no idea why you are nervous, it is not like she is going to see you.

When you get there, you follow behind your group of friends. It is all kind of overwhelming - the crowd and how many people are here and how decked out in gear they are.

You are too caught up in the scene to realize that your group is being ushered to your seats. This is your first Iowa women's basketball game and you didn't realize how crazy your school went for this team. You know that there has been a lot of traction around Caitlin Clark and how she is changing the game for women. But what you are seeing, is truly amazing the effect she is having on people.

When you all get to your seats, you are mortified. At no point did your roommate or any of your other friends mention that you were sitting courtside. Having the perfect view of the court is nice when it comes to watching the game but not when it comes to hiding from your marketing crush.

You sit and glare at your roommate, who ignores you quite easily as she is in conversation with one of the guys you came with.

You pull your ball cap down and wish you could sink through your chair. This will be fine. You will be fine. There is no way she is going to notice you when she is focused on the game. You keep telling yourself this.

The team makes its way onto the court - the crowd goes wild. You watch as they come jogging out, starting to warm up. Your eyes scan the crowd for no.22. You see a few other girls that are familiar from classes and make a mental note to cheer them on. When you finally find Caitlin, your heart skips a beat.

She looks so good. This is 100% her in her element. The once so laid-back girl, now locked in and ready for what the next 2 hours hold. You are mesmerized by how calm she looks - like the thousands of fans here shouting her name are nonexistent.

Your eyes remain on her while they warm up. When their warm-ups come off and they take the court for the beginning of the game, something shifts in her.

You turn over to ask one of your friends a question about the team, missing the first glance that Caitlin gets of you sitting courtside for her game. She turns over to Kate, who is standing right next to her.

"That's her," is all Caitlin says and gives a little point to you. Kate follows her point to a girl who looks like she doesn't want to be seen. That's hard to do when you are literally sitting on the court.

Your attention goes back to the game as the girls go up for the tip-off. When the Hawkeyes take it, you feel yourself getting into the game. No one really knew you grew up playing in middle school and high school. You were never good enough to play in college but you enjoyed the sport. You left that part of you when you left high school.

It's not even 2 minutes into the game when you feel eyes on you. You turn to see your friends staring at you. You look back at them confused. Your roommate uses her head to signal to something on the court. You look and are surprised to see Caitlin looking right at you.

You feel a heat creep into your cheeks as you just stare at her. See it would have been a good idea to smile or nod. Hell, even wave but you just sat there staring at her with a blank expression.

She just smiles and lets out a little chuckle as she turns back to the game. She gets the ball and shoots a logo three no more than 10 seconds after you made a fool of yourself. When she turns to the crowd to celebrate, she points directly at you and then holds up a three with her other hand. Your roommate elbows your side as you hide your face.

This was everything you were terrified of, being seen.

"It looks like she has someone to play for," one of your friends gives you a little nudge.

"Guys there is no need to make this bigger than it is, she could be pointing to anyone over here, it isn't a big deal," you say in hopes that you will also believe your lies.

Your roommate scoffs. "You keep telling that to yourself sweetheart, she knows, we know and by the looks of it, the team also knows," she says as she nods over to the girls on the court.

All of your heads turn to see Caitlin, pointing to you again but this time talking to more girls on her team. They all look at you with smiles then break from their huddle and head back to their spots on the court.

Caitlin is running straight in your direction.

"Watch," you say referring to how you are not the center of attention to anyone.

Caitlin doesn't stop where she is supposed to be posted but rather runs straight to you with her hand out. Your hand comes out to give her a high five.

"Glad you could finally make it to one of my games," she says with a little smirk. "Only halfway through the season, better late than never." She gives you a wink before heading back to her post.

You feel like you could pass out. There is no way she just came up to you, mid-game, to be a little flirt.

"Looks like your girl Caitlin now has someone to dedicate her plays to," one of your friends teases you.

"Oh shut up," you say but that doesn't take away from the butterflies that build in the pit of your stomach.

Everyone turns back to the game and as you watch your team fight to keep the lead.

It seems like in every other play, Caitlin is turning her head to give you a smile or a smirk. You want time to stop so you can walk up to her and tell her to get her head in the game. There is no way she should be this distracted when the score is as close as it is.

The next play has a girl from the other team, pushing Caitlin causing her to fall on her backside right in front of you. You lean down to stop her from rolling into the chairs, your hand coming to her lower back and right arm as she slides right into you. When your hand touches her skin, you accidentally shock her - sending a little electrical current running through both of you.

One of her teammates comes to help her up and a foul is called. Before she goes to throw her free throws she turns to you, saying, "Thanks, babe."

Your friends, yet again, turn to look at you and you just wave them off.

The buzzer goes off as halftime commences. You are scrolling on your phone when someone approaches you.

"Hi, I was asked to come give this to you," the woman says as she hands you jersey. You give her a confused look, not taking it, but rather just looking at the article of clothing she is holding.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about," you say, genuinely confused.

"I was told by one of the players to give this to you to wear for the rest of the game," she says, signaling you to take the jersey. It is your roommate who takes it from the woman and lets her know you will put it on. The woman walks away and your roommate full-on turns to face you.

"You are putting on this jersey," she says, throwing it at you. You hear her mumble, "Just letting the poor woman stand there when she has better things to do. All you had to do was take the jersey." She seems annoyed at how naive you are being.

You look at the jersey that was just given to you - Clark 22 printed on the back. You slip it over your hoodie and slip your hat back on. You aren't going to deny the feeling you get when you first slip it on. And it is not like you are the only one wearing the number 22, there is a stand full of fans sporting the number as your marketing crush is the school's star.

When the team heads back out at the end of halftime, Caitlin's eyes go straight to you, making sure you got her little gift. She is pleased to see you wearing it.

As the third quarter begins, the team comes out hot, putting up 2 threes in the first minute. You are cheering them on louder than before.

After the next play, Caitlin comes your way.

"Much better," is all she says as she gives you another wink. You just smile at her, bringing your bottom lip in between your teeth. Caitlin's eyes go from yours, down to your lips. The smile she once wore, was now replaced with something between annoyance and longing. Every fiber of her being is telling her to walk up to you and pull that pretty little lip of yours out from your teeth and tell you that your lips are only for her to bite.

She finally looks away, realizing how much you are distracting her from the game. Kate runs up to Caitlin and whispers something into her ear, Caitlin nods and heads to grab water from the bench as the other team calls a time-out.

By the time the fourth quarter rolls around, you feel like you belong courtside. Your friends are still giving you a hard time whenever Caitlin looks your way or comes over to make a little comment to you. The game is nearing its end when Caitlin comes over to pass in the ball after a foul. She is standing right in front of you, so close you could touch her if you wanted.

She takes a small step back, her leg brushing up against yours. She steps up to the line and leans forward just enough to stick her ass out in your direction. This whole time, she has been the one in control. All that control went out the window when you bit your lip causing the super start to internally lose it. Her standing where she was, right in front of you, was no accident - she wanted you in the palm of her hand, not the other way around.

And boy did she have you. You sit there and just admire her body. Checking out her legs and how they are perfectly shaped. How her arms are beautifully toned and how she looks all around is incredible.

The game ends and the Hawkeyes take the win. The team rushes onto the court and begins celebrating with those who finished out the quarter.

You and your friends stand, stretching your legs. You had no intention of staying to see Caitlin after the game, thinking the team would go out to celebrate. You plan on giving Cait back her jersey the next class you two have together.

Your back is facing the court as you are waiting for your friends to grab their stuff when you feel a tug on your arm. You spin around and come face to face with none other than Miss Caitlin Clark.

She has a smile on her face and without warning, she grabs your waist and kisses you. Time stops and all the people in the background fade away. Your hands come up to her face as they cup her cheeks. You feel her bring your body closer to hers as she deepens the kiss. She gives your bottom lip a little bite as you break apart.

You stand there speechless. Dreaming of this kiss since the beginning of the semester, never in a million years imagined it would happen like this.

The most radiant smile is on her face. She leans in closer to you.

"My number is on the inside of this jersey. Call me, will you?" She asks as she looks at you for a response.

"Of course," is all you can say, still in shock about what has just happened.

"Good," she says. "I'll be waiting." She lets you go and gives your friends a wave before heading back to the team.

The whole walk home your friends can't stop talking about what had just unfolded before them. Some of them are as shocked as you are, while others are already planning your wedding.

When you get back to your room, you shoot Caitlin a text so she has your number.

[CC: I'm glad you didn't take long to shoot me a message}

{CC: Are you busy tomorrow? Want to work on our marketing paper if you haven't finished it yet?]

[You: That sounds great, I am quite behind 🤣]

[CC: Well I don't know if I will be much help, but I would rather do it with you than alone]

[You: I'm for it, meet at noon?]

She sends you her address. You like it and put your phone down to head to bed. Before you do, you hear your phone go off one more time. Grabbing it, you see one last message from Caitlin.

[CC: Sleep tight babe]

The next morning you wake up and go for a run. You needed to do something to help with the nerves that began to build just thinking about seeing Caitlin today.

You get back, shower, then get ready to meet her at her place. You make sure to stick her jersey in your bag to return to her and head out the door.

It only takes you about 15 minutes to walk to her apartment. When you get there you knock on the door.

She opens it with a huge smile, "Hi."

She lets you, opening her arms for a hug which you gladly shuffle into. It surpassed the length that friends would hug. As you pull away you decide to give her cheek a little peck.

After doing so is the first time you see her blush. You smile at her and continue to walk into her apartment.

The two of you decide to work on her couch - both struggling to get through this paper. You took frequent breaks talking about when you both started liking each other and more about your lives outside of marketing.

As you take another break, you grab your phone and decide to look her up only to find edits of you and her from the night before.

Your cheeks heat up immediately as you hide your face in your hands.

"What?" She says trying to look over at your screen. You hand her your phone and she laughs a little, followed by an 'awww'.

"I can't believe there are people out there who are making full-on edits of us." You say with a little groan - the spotlight is not your thing.

"They are cute," she says as she keeps scrolling through your phone. "Look at this one!"

You lean into her and look at what she is talking about. It is a clip of you before halftime, wearing your Hawkeye sweatshirt then jumps to after halftime when you are wearing Caitlin's jersey.

"I am sure glad I gave you my jersey," she says with a little smirk.

"That reminds me, I brought it back for you," you say, moving to grab it from your bag. She grabs your arm and brings you back into her.

"That one is for you to wear to the rest of my games," she says like it is a known fact. You decide to tease her a bit.

"And what makes you think I want to go watch you play again?" You ask.

She gives you a little pout - which literally melts you.

"Because you are my new good luck charm," she says and leans in closer to you. Your breathing becomes uneasy.

"But you don't need luck," you say just above a whisper. Your eyes going in between hers and her lips.

"You're right..." she says, also looking at your lips. Her eyes make their way back to yours. "I don't need luck, but I need you."

She leans in and kisses you. This kiss is much more reserved than the one she planted on you last night. There was no rush or urgency in this kiss, it was quite pleasant.

You inhale and bring your forehead to hers.

"I am all yours."

AN: I really like how this came out! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark concepts #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb #22 #caitlin clark masterlist

[talesofesther]

you're all I want love to be

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Tara is still afraid to allow people close, to allow herself to trust again. Until she finds someone who makes it easier.

A/N: The idea for this was also given to me by my dear @iamnicodemus. Hope y'all like it. Tara, I love u. <3

Masterlist

Tara never meant for it to happen.

It was actually the one thing she wanted the least. Catching feelings for someone only opens up more opportunities for her to get hurt.

And yet it happened so easily, so subtly, that she only realized it when the damage was already done.

She found you on her first day at the university. When she was admittedly very lost; backpack hanging from one shoulder, fifteen minutes late for her class, and walking in the opposite direction of it. You were the only person she'd bumped into when going past Blackmore's cafeteria, and after a bit of an internal pep talk, Tara walked up to you.

And if kindness could be a person, it would be you. Instead of just taking her to class, you gave Tara a simple tour of the university, promising to be around if she ever needed anything else.

Tara started noticing you on every corner of the campus after that. She didn't take you up on your offer though, choosing instead to keep her distance. Still, you always had a smile reserved for her at times you'd catch her staring. That didn't change when the rumors about her and Sam started, if anything, you became more approachable than before.

But it was only after an unfortunate incident, that Tara actually started hanging out with you;

October had started four days ago, and with it, the Halloween season. Parties were already being scheduled every other weekend and sometimes on weekdays as well.

Tara was walking towards her class, her head in the clouds while she thought about what costume she would wear if she were to go to one of those parties.

She was usually one to be early for class now that she had her paths memorized, preferring the calmness of the minutes before everyone started rushing to arrive on time.

So she wasn't exactly expecting what happened next.

As Tara rounded a corner, she was surprised to come face to face with two other students; one of them adorning a black hoodie and a cheap Ghostface mask. The 'boo' that left his lips was as childish as it could be, but the abruptness of the encounter got Tara stumbling on her own feet as she took several steps back, eyes wide and her body momentarily entering fight or flight mode.

"What's wrong, Carpenter?" The guy in the mask said in a mocking tone, his friend joining in on the laughter, "thought I was your sister?"

Tara's voice was tangled up in her throat, she couldn't remember if she packed her inhaler this morning, or was it her taser that she forgot?

If unkind memories weren't flashing behind her eyes, Tara would have recognized the two idiots in front of her; the boys who came here to do anything but study, taking getting on people's nerves as a hobby.

It was only when the back of their heads was hit — quite forcefully — with a book, that they stopped laughing. The cheap mask fell to the ground with the hit, gaining a crack on its edge.

"Don't you guys have anything better to do?" You came from behind them, tucking the book back in your backpack, "fuck off before I tell the director what you've been doing out in the parking lot when you think no one's watching."

With a few complaints under their breath, they eventually walked away, allowing Tara to let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Morons," you huffed, tugging on the straps of your backpack before turning around to Tara, your gaze softening immediately, "you okay?"

Her dark eyes found yours. She simply nodded, feeling her lower lip quivering when she tried to speak. She noticed the way your hand twitched to reach out to her but you stopped yourself midway, instead tucking both hands in your pockets.

"I'm sorry about them," you told her with the usual gentleness you never lacked, "they should know better than to do that."

Tara shook her head softly, managing a smile when her heartbeat started to settle, "thank you for… stepping in."

You just shrugged, your smile coming as a copy of hers, and it got Tara wondering if it could hold the same sentiment too.

"Anytime," you told her then, and Tara hardly left your side after it.

It was easy to fall into the routine of having you near and pretending she was just a normal girl with a crush on her friend. Being with you was so easy that it made Tara forget about all the bad, forget about all the reasons why allowing people close became dangerous.

And today? Today should be a good day, it's a day Tara has been looking forward to, a day that took away her sleep for all the good reasons. And it's not like she never stopped to get coffee with you on the way to campus, but today felt different because you had asked her to, as a date.

And Tara had been counting the seconds for it; until Ghostface came back and nearly killed her and Sam at that grocery store, until Mindy said 'never trust the love interest', until her worst nightmares came back again and suddenly nothing was easy anymore.

"Alright guys, as much as I love discussing possible suspects with you," Chad pushed himself off the bench he'd been sitting on, "we've still got classes to go to, come on Ethan." The two boys gathered their things and walked away, Quinn soon following behind.

Tara slumped back in her seat, her hands coming up to cover her eyes. With her sight momentarily gone, it felt like everything else was louder, heavier; she could perfectly hear the rustling of leaves from the trees around, the cacophony of voices from all the other students hanging out outside, and feel the weight of Sam's gaze on her.

"I think someone's looking for you, lovergirl," Mindy said out of nowhere, kicking Tara's sneaker with her own. When Tara glanced up at her friend with a frown, all Mindy did was tilt her head towards the university, where you had just walked out from and were now making your way to them.

"Don't think I haven't noticed," Mindy teased with a sing-song voice and a grin plastered on her lips.

"Noticed what?" Sam sat up straighter, her gaze shifting from Tara to Mindy.

"Tara's girlfr-"

"Nothing," Tara interrupted quickly, getting up so she could land a gentle punch to Mindy's shoulder, "nothing to notice," she said again, pointedly.

"Alright, let's go, Sam," Mindy extended a hand for the older girl, "we'll meet back at the dorm later."

Sam still had a confused frown on her features but she took the hand offered to her anyway, while Mindy leaned closer to Tara so she could whisper; "always knew you had good taste," before both of them walked again.

Tara's cheeks went aflame as she let out a groan, predicting the onslaught of questions she'd get later today. She slowly turned around to meet you in the middle, her soul naturally filling with incessant butterflies.

Had she really been that unsubtle when regarding you?

"Hey," you greeted her a little breathlessly, letting go of your backpack and leaving it on the floor as you took a small extra step closer to Tara, your eyes frantically looking her over, "I was so worried when I saw what happened last night, are you-"

"I'm okay," it was instinct, but Tara didn't know if the words were true. There was something about you that always made her feel more than she wanted to, she suddenly felt like the last pieces of herself she'd been trying to hold together so hard over the last months started crumbling. Tara took hold of your hands, squeezing tightly. She didn't know who she was trying to comfort, you or herself.

You held her back, glancing down as your fingers intertwined with hers. Tara observed the way your lashes kissed the corner of your cheeks; you were all golden softness and spring warmth, presence rivaling the one of a welcoming sun on a cold day. Tara wanted to memorize that, keep it in her heart as if it was the first and last time she'd be seeing you.

It should be easy to forget and pretend, but it suddenly wasn't, because Mindy's words kept ringing inside Tara's head even if she didn't want them to be true. She felt tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of her eyes.

"But," she closed her eyes at the unsteadiness of her own voice. More than anything, she wanted this, wanted you. But she was stuck. It felt like quicksand, pulling her further down the more she struggled to get out. "about today…"

It's like you knew her better than she knew herself sometimes, maybe for you, it still felt easy. "It's alright, Tara." Your thumb brushed over the scar on top of her hand, "we don't have to go, I understand."

Tara pursed her lips, blinking away her vulnerability. She let go of your hands only to loop her arm around yours and bring your bodies closer together, "walk me to class, though?"

—

"Come on, spill it, what's up between you two?" Mindy leaned back on the kitchen counter beside Tara, "I was joking earlier today, but now I actually think there's something there."

The carrot Tara was cutting ended up with a slice too big, she had to turn it around and cut it one more time in the middle, "I've told you, there's nothing going on," Tara told her friend with a sigh, making sure to cut smaller slices so she could keep her hands busy as long as possible; "she's my friend."

Mindy scoffed, she picked up a spoon from the sink and tasted whatever Chad was cooking up on the stove. A grimace came to her face at the lack of seasoning, "I've heard that before."

"It's not like that," Tara dropped the knife then, unsure what she was frustrated about or what she wanted to convince Mindy of, "how can I get… involved with someone after what happened?" Her voice grew quieter by the end.

Mindy softened at that, she turned to face Tara fully — everyone knew the younger Carpenter was still struggling with what she'd been through, even if she didn't want to admit it. "I know it's not easy, T. But you can't close yourself off for everyone, some people are still worth it," Mindy glanced towards the living room, a soft smile on her lips when Anika's silhouette came into view, "people aren't meant to be islands."

—

There are times when the pain is so big, that it almost doesn't feel like pain anymore. If it comes from a wound, that's usually the time when you'll pass out. If it comes from inside, you start to feel numb.

Sitting at the back of an ambulance as she watches cops walking out with another one of her friends in a dark body bag, Tara thinks she's close to that feeling. Mindy is sitting beside her, she's not moving. Tara doesn't know what to say in moments like these, they feel almost awkward. A morbid kind of awkward.

So when she gets up, cell phone in hand with your number already ringing, she blames it on that; on the pain squeezing her chest almost to the point of unbearable, on the helplessness she feels twirling in her gut.

Tara paced back and forth on the sidewalk, trying to draw out the noise of the sirens as she counted up the seconds until you picked up.

… Two, three, four.

Tara could hear her own heart rate quicken, she closed her eyes, thinking about how her inhaler was still all the way up in the apartment; where there's blood, and-

Please, pick up. Please, pick up.

"Hello?"

A long sigh of relief left Tara's lips as soon as she heard your voice through the phone. As if she hadn't cried enough, she could see tears clouding her sight.

"Tara? What happened, is everything okay?"

"No, it's not," Tara forced out, her voice tight with a sudden rawness. She turned her back to Mindy so the girl wouldn't see her crying, "there was another attack… Anika didn't make it."

"Oh god, I can't-" Tara could hear you choking on your own voice, "are you okay? Please tell me you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm-" Tears made a steady path down to Tara's chin, some getting caught under the phone pressed tightly to her cheek, "I'm alright."

"Tell me where you are, I can be there in like ten- five minutes."

"No!" Tara said with urgency, "don't come here, please, I don't want you anywhere near this," she gulped back a lump in her throat, "it's too dangerous."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be okay," Tara closed her eyes, wishing the words really were true, "I just-" she hesitated, a confession lingering on her tongue, "I just wanted to hear your voice, is all." She bit onto her lower lip until it drew blood.

"We- we can talk for as long as you need," it was like Tara could hear your smile, "I'm happy to hear your voice too."

—

Ambulance lights and police sirens were clouding your senses as you run up to the commotion. It was quite a sight; your oversized shirt, shorts, and sneakers with mismatched high socks. But you couldn't remember to care because your heart had been at your throat ever since Mindy called.

There were several reporters blocking your view but you squeezed your way through them until you reached the police tape. You've always hated this; the white and red colors of the vehicles that only showed up in tragedies, the panic and grief that lay heavy in the air, the clicks of the cameras from people who saw it as an opportunity — you hated it all, but right now the only one on your mind is Tara.

You ducked to go under the police tape, immediately attracting the attention of one of the cops, "Miss, you can't be here, please go back behind-"

"No, you don't understand," you gripped at the fabric of his jacket when he tried to keep you back, trying to push through, "I know them."

And the cop kept speaking, probably about things you weren't allowed to do and places you shouldn't be. You didn't hear any of it, because you found her. Her blue shirt had more red than blue in it, dried blood was all over the fabric, making you feel a mix between relief and nauseousness; her hair was messy, tangled, and damp in some places; her skin still coated with bits of dirt and blood too; her arm was held up by a makeshift bandage. But she was there, talking to a blonde woman on a stretcher; she was alive.

"Tara," you called quietly as your sight blurred over, and then a little louder, "Tara!"

She looked up, any words she'd been saying dying on her lips when she saw you. For a beat, it seemed as if she was assessing if you were real or not, before she was all but running towards you.

Not caring for consequences, you pushed the cop off of you and met her halfway — lucky for you he apparently noticed you really knew them.

"What are you doing here?" Tara's eyes were glinting under the red and blue lights, there were clear tracks on her cheeks where tears had run down.

"I was-" you tried, stumbling over your words as you took her in, all blood stains and bruises. You raised a hand to push back her fringe, the strands of hair were damp to the touch; from sweat or blood, you didn't want to know. "Mindy called, and scared the shit out of me. I came as fast as I could."

With her lower lip stuck between her teeth, Tara leaned into your touch. Her eyes closed tightly when your thumb traced the outline of her eyebrow.

"Are you okay? I mean of course you're not okay, what am I even-"

You were cut off when Tara threw herself at you. She pulled you close with her free hand, nails almost digging into your skin with the force of it as she buried her head on your shoulder.

Quiet sobs shook her body and you held her back the best you could whilst being mindful of her injuries. One of your hands cradled her head, fingers tangled in her dark hair as you breathed in everything that was her. "Shit, I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

Tara only pushed herself into you more as you spoke. There was a beat, a moment of hesitance from someone who'd had the bitter taste of betrayal more than anyone should. Trust was a gamble, but when you had a place in her heart no one else could ever have, Tara knew you'd never break it. "I'm okay now," she spoke against you; and she believed it.

You only squeezed her tighter, pulling back just enough to land a kiss on her temple. And you allowed your lips to linger, to feel her skin against you and her heartbeat pressed to your own.

Tara melted in your hold, allowing you to support most of her weight. With her cheek pressed to your collarbone, she spoke; "you still owe me a date."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Tara’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @alexkolax

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter #scream #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem reader #taracarpenteredit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #tara carpenter fanfic #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #my story

[velvetmud]

i wanna see what happens when the reader is tempting joel, all innocent smiles whilst she drives him over the edge with her subtle teasing

I got pretty colorful and into it w this one the possibilities were just endless 🤩 set pretty early 2000s, joel is late thirties and kind of a huge lovesick creep in this and sarah’s (alive) and a teen

warning(s): explicit 18+, dirty talk, age difference, phone sex, cum play stuff

-

Joel wouldn’t call it being a peeping tom, okay? He wouldn’t.

But if he wanted to occasionally check up on his shirtless neighborhood crush while she’s waltzing around in her panties through that perfect, square little bedroom window next door, who the fuck is he to look away when he knows he’s struck gold?

It’d be foolish, downright idiotic not to admire her while she’s taking care of that soft skin after a hot shower, steam smelling like fresh body wash whenever she cracks the window open to air it out. Joel always ducks his head just in time, sometimes nearly falling as he shamefully rights himself and attempts to act busy with the old paperwork still sitting on his desk.

Tonight’s been pretty ordinary. No sign of her buying curtains for her room anytime soon.

She stuck to her daily routine and he’s watched on from a swivel chair in his home office space. It’s gotten to a point where he thinks he almost knows her inside out, knows little things no one else might ever get to see - like how adamant she is about skin care whether she’s waking up or going to bed, knows the movie posters she hung up on her wall, knows what she looks like getting ready in the morning, how she’ll button her pants while a toothbrush hangs out of her mouth.

How some days she’ll stare in the mirror and pick apart her reflection with a noticeable frown, and others she lightheartedly tries out some funky different hairstyles he admittedly has had a good chuckle at.

Joel took note of plenty other things too. Like the color of her panties. How much the style of clothes she wore changed throughout the week. One day she might wear boxers and a wife beater. Another night she’ll be in offensively tight fitting cami tops with panties in the prettiest sets of colors he’s ever fucking seen.

In all honesty, he understood his amusement in her and every little thing about her wasn’t the smartest, nor healthiest. He tries to shove those thoughts away, ignore everything wrong with what he’s done. With how much he likes to watch those intimate, personal moments when she’s in the comfort and privacy of her own room.

She wasn’t much older than his own daughter Sarah, and Sarah barely just started actually talking to him about boys in her class. As much as it kills him.

By the looks of how often his inappropriate neighborhood crush goes to bed alone, and how rarely she’s spent the night elsewhere, she must’ve been shy enough to keep to herself, unlike Sarah. Never took any boys home from her community college she went to down the road. Never got home late and snuck in through the same window he watches her through. Just a kind, innocent girl who doesn’t know how much she was admired from afar. Or not so far, he remembers, adjusting himself in his sweatpants as she reentered her bedroom only two walls and a few feet in between.

Judging by that red little bra sitting snug around the swell of her breasts and the matching skimpy panties, she was gonna be home alone tonight. Free to do whatever she pleases without the eyes and ears of her parents. Shit, he’s gonna be glued in this twirling desk chair for the rest of the night if he has to. Sarah got ready and washed up for bed half an hour ago, leaving nothing left for him to do except lock the door and get his cream and tissue ready.

Guilt tries to gnaw his subconscious, but the opposing argument wasn’t nearly compelling enough to possess him to stop. Not when she struts in and parts her hair to the side, inspecting herself in the mirror. He could tell she felt a little sexier tonight.

It wasn’t going to be one of those other nights, ones that make him want to crawl up to her bedroom window and grab a hold of her. Let her weep and rant in his chest until she’s all done and he can console her. Go on about how sweet, how gorgeous he knows she is, how ridiculous it ever was that she could see herself any other way.

No, no no. Tonight he already teetered on the edge of crawling up to that open window, peel those panties down her legs, all the way to her calves with his teeth instead. Make her hold on to that headboard of hers for dear life while he gave her what she deserved. He could picture it now, all the squirming she’d do while he made a mess in her sheets, or the pretty colored pieces of lingerie.

Stuff that slutty little bra in her mouth to muffle those cries, snatch those used up panties and inconspicuously shove them down deep in one of his back pockets. Keep it to wrap around his dick later, or maybe drape across his face. Cover it in cum with a low growl of her name.

By the looks of it, sometimes he wonders if she was a vixen that could read minds. Like now, with the way she started rubbing a dainty fingertip down her front through the lace, lying on her back in bed. Teasing herself, softly and gently, like how he dreams of doing to her.

“Damn. Already got started without me,” he mumbles aloud to nobody except himself, licking his lips in anticipation. Pulls his boxers to the side, mirroring her actions when she pulled her devilish colored panties to the side and expose that pretty pussy out in the air. The view is perfect when she readjusts in the bed so her back is to the window, flaunting that nearly naked ass right towards him. An ass that Joel only ever daydreams of getting to run his tongue along. Spank.

“That’s it. Make yourself feel good, baby. Know you need it. Know you’re getting there.”

Joel can’t help his commentary, like he’s making a director’s cut while he watches her bend over and fill herself up with a finger. Her face says that that one finger just isn’t going to cut it, isn’t nearly big enough to fill, to satisfy. He wished he could remedy that for her, shove and pistol even just one of his fingers inside. Thick enough to equal to two of hers, and longer too. Could reach deeper places. He’d do it for hours just to feel the squelch, feel her warmth.

A hum leaves his closed lips while he runs a hand up his stiff length, taking a long deep breath. He tries not to even blink unless he has to, unwilling to miss a second while she still has her lights on and those panties pulled to the side for him.

He’s tempted to really go there and grab the one and only pair of binoculars he’s ever owned, from what used to seem like a stupid last minute holiday gift from Tommy now seemed like it might come in handy. One of these nights.

“Goddamn, look at you,” he starts to pant, sweat built up on his temple as he finally rid himself of his boxers, tucking the waistband beneath his balls. His dick stands full and tall against his belly, veins bulging while his fingers squeeze and tease the tip.

Impatiently goes and begins stroking the base, slow and steady, not intending to get too ahead of himself. Ahead of her. He always aims to match her speed. Pretend he’s doing this with her, next to her. No walls separating them. He’d finally get a view up close, get to taste and kiss and feel and smell—

In the blink of an eye, she surprises him after keeping one of those fingers in as she turns and does something new. Out of the ordinary. She seems to wrestle her thoughts only for a short moment before picking up what looks to be her house phone from the night stand.

Just when she’s done dialing and holds it up to her ear, his own office phone nearly gives him a stroke from its boisterous ringing. He flinched and cursed as he attempts to ready himself, flipping his waistband halfway back up, only part of his cock poking out. Even if it nearly kills him to refrain from relieving himself.

Some unknown number glows on the screen, and though Joel knows it could’ve been anybody, he has a suspicious hunch that this call was something different. Clearing his throat, he answers as the Miller Residence.

“Mister Miller?” a small, breathy, feminine, and most of all familiar voice asks. He turns back around to his neighborhood crush through the window, seeing those deadly legs now sprawled out while she stares up at the ceiling, home phone tucked by her ear. She called him. In bed. Wearing those panties. Holy fuck.

“Hey, sweetheart. Joel is fine. You uh, you live right next door don’t you?” he gulps, a rush of guilt and shame filling his brain and his gut when he looks over and watches her spread them further apart, feet going briefly up in the air.

Closing his eyes, he pinches his temples as he tries composing himself, tries acting natural.

Like he wasn’t just watching her before and right when she fucking calls.

“Yeah, ‘m sorry if it’s too late. Fuck. You probably have work in the morning, don’t you? And Sarah….”

He doesn’t contain his laughter at her unwavering usage of the word fuck. His mind wants to flutter to thoughts of her saying that word in a whole other context.

“No need for any sorrys, sweet thing. Sarah’s too smart for her own good these days, little girl barely needs me around anymore. And I work from home now actually. Makes things easier.” God help him, it does. “Uh, but point is is I’m always open to…. talk. Or anything else you need.” he blurts, stumbling his way through what was supposed to be an innocent, neighborly sentiment. Come knock if you need sugar type of thing.

It’s creepy, and it’s cowardly, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of scaring her off from him permanently. She can talk to him about her life, her thoughts, her struggles — and shit, there really isn’t much left of her life he hasn’t already seen. Just not quite as up close.

He ducks his head to peek a wide eye through the window again, petrified of being caught. How humiliating it would be for her just to turn around, see the same middle aged dad next door that she’s on the phone with, then look down at his pervy stubborn dick just hanging out of his sweatpants for her to see.

Joel’s heartbeat races.

He can hear her smile in her voice while she responds, “Sarah’s a lucky girl, I mean, this goes without saying but…. she has thee coolest dad ever.”

He can’t do anything except bite his lip and stare down at his dick, pathetically holding his breath from the praise. On second thought it’s good she doesn’t see him up close, see how red his neck and ears get. Or the tent in his pants that he gets to hide under his work desk while she unknowingly strips in front of him almost daily.

“But thank you for saying that. Seriously, it means the world to me. I don’t really have many people to talk to most days. Sarah, she um, she actually gave me your guys’ number—“

Fuck. Who does Joel think he is?

“You meant to ring Sarah?”

He’s spiralling into hating himself again while he moves his head to stare through his window and catch a better look at her, a habit which felt about as dangerous as picking up a cigarette.

She’s stood up from her bed now, biting her thumb nail and then running her fingers through her hair. Still killing him with her bare legs, her bare back….

“No! No, Joel I meant to call you. I’m glad it was you who answered, cause I’ve been meaning to ask for your help with something.”

His eyes could’ve bulged out of their sockets and his blood pressure had to have been at a pretty questionable level by now. Turning around in his swivel chair, he itched the back of his neck and pulls his sweatpants the rest of the way back up.

“My help? ‘Course sweetheart. What’d you need my help with so late?”

There’s a subtle shift in tone to a more sultry, vicious one coming from her that he’s never heard before and almost couldn’t pick up on.

“I want you to turn back around and give me your opinion on this.”

Joel swears his heart floated up to his mouth right when he heard it. Turn back around. Since when did she know which way he was facing?

His mouth gapes open like a fish, and he raises his head in high alert but still has yet to turn around.

“What’d you mean—“

“By turn around I meant turn around. C’mon, don’t turn shy now. Might like what you see.”

He slowly turns that hundred and eighty degrees, unsure of what he’s in for when he risks another peek in her window.

She’s on her knees on the bed, facing his house. One bra strap had fallen down her shoulder, and it’s ethereal. Still clutching the home phone to her ear, he can see the giant grin filling her expression as she raises her brows up and down at him through the glass.

“How do these look on me? They’re both new,” she gave him a quick and playful little twirl, swiftly pulling all of her hair to one side.

Joel is blissfully at a loss, wondering if Sarah snuck him a stronger melatonin to put him to sleep and he’s dreaming. He’ll wake up any second like usual, drooling on his pillow with a full hard on he cannot escape.

Tempted to pinch himself, he blinks a few times with a barely there blank expression before clearing his throat to muster up the courage to form an answer. An honest to God answer.

“Looks perfect on you. You’re… you’re beautiful, baby. S’not fair to me.”

“It’s not fair to me that you pulled your pants back up,” she remarks.

Joel licks his lips, watching her nod her head down a little. Signaling that she can see what affect this has on him, how she didn’t have to bat an eye to already have him reeled in.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, voice hoarse.

She repeats all the gestures she’d been doing right before she called, running one of her finger tips in circles through the skimpy lace.

“I wanna see it again,” she whispers, like she’s just shared one of her darkest secrets. And maybe she has. “Pull it out for me.”

Her wish was his command, and up came his ass off the swivel chair to yank both layers back down again. His cock stood up, filled proud and tall as it could ever be. “Anything for you, baby.”

He hears her faint gasp of surprise when his pants are bunched up at his knees, showing off his full length and his thighs.

“Knew you were big, but Joel that is a monster. None of my toys could even compare.” she laughs, shaking her head in utter disbelief. Joel almost clams up not knowing what to say, nonetheless still gushing at her bluntness. In the back of his mind, he wondered what kinds of toys she likely has lying around her room right now.

Shrugging, he fists himself then grabs the tip with his pointer finger and thumb, aching for some semblance of relief from the fucking brick between his legs. When he’s rewarded with some precum building up on the tip, he makes the intentional move to moan low and gruff into the phone like how he would in her ear. “Not just about how big. S’about how you move, how much you pay attention to how she’s feeling. Foreplay too.”

“Sound like such a gentleman,” she teased, almost taking his breath away when she sticks her legs up, placing them on either side of the window, spreading herself out just for his viewing pleasure.

No one on else on his side or her side of their respective homes had their same view, granting them a decent amount of freedom to go wild. Joel scoots his swivel chair even closer to his window, prying his eyes to those now wide open legs that drove him to such foul temptation.

“Not that much a gentleman. Fuck, my god you’re perfect—”

Her hands travel up and down her thighs, and just looking at her from afar he still knows she smells good. She’s still teasing him, but fuck if Joel wasn’t enjoying every minute of it.

“Foreplay too, huh? What do you like about it? Little bit of giving, little bit of taking—“

“Giving. I like giving,” he interjects in a hurry, giving the thick base of his cock a couple satisfying, rigorous strokes. “No such thing as gettin’ too wet.”

His mouth starts to salivate as she nods her head through the window and drags those panties down a leg so they dangle at the heel of her foot. Spreads her lips apart with two of her fingers, wiggling back and forth to fuck him up even harder.

“There might be.”

It could be angelic or downright demonic the way she’s hypnotizing him, the way nothing and no one could pull him out of his daze as he stays on the edge of his chair, pulling on his cock like a prick.

“Think about eating that pussy all day, then fucking you all night. Hard as you want, fast as you want. Fuck, I could break that headboard of yours if you want. Would worship you any way you fuckin’ need me to, baby.”

His voice almost cracks towards the end, brown eyes drinking up her sprawled out form, her breasts busting out of that bra while she slips two of those dainty fingers back inside. Where his mouth ought to be.

“Yeah, I see you looking and jerking off while you watch me undress at night, Joel. What, can’t you handle seeing any girl walk around her room in some panties?”

She could easily just be teasing him, just shit talking to get him going, but he shits down that idea immediately. Any girl he could handle. He’s a grown man, capable of storing away his desires if the situation called for it. This wasn’t that kind of situation.

“Not just any girl,” Joel pants, forcing his wrist to slow down no matter how painful it might’ve been, locking eyes with her through the glass. “It’s you. Always driving me fucking crazy.” he grunts, almost sounding like it was some kind of complaint or deterrence.

“Never got used to watching you make yourself cum. Every night felt like the first time. Love seeing those legs shake,” he goes on, speeding up and tightening the ruthless grip he had on his dick. “Couldn’t help myself, baby. I’m sorry.”

She yanks a cup of her bra down to free her chest, feeding Joel another bucket of eye candy as he slides his wet palm down his length. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he admires her clenching desperately around her little fingers.

“Wanna hear if this is too wet?”

“Yes baby girl, wanna hear it.” he bobs his head up and down with a rapid display of enthusiasm, waning his orgasm off with a brutal level of self control. Not yet, Joel. Not yet.

He sees her take the house phone and lower it to where her fingers had been playing. She scoops her juices around and spreads it to her clit with her middle finger and he can hear it all.

“You sound soaked for me, honey,” he mutters, feeling like he’s lost and put in another realm that was so pleasurable he almost feels like he doesn’t belong. “Must be makin’ yourself feel real good, all spread out and filled up like that.”

“My fingers aren’t big enough.” she says, mirroring a whine while she brings the phone back up to her ear.

“You need mine in there too, don’t you? Fuck, I can’t wait to see what you look like all covered in cum. My cum.”

She’s all gasps and squirms and he gets to witness it all, any previous shame and worry shucked away by those heavenly whimpers of his name. “J-Joel, please—“

All the sudden it seems she wasn’t the one steering this ship anymore, now asking him for permission and instruction. Smitten as he is when she took charge, he knows he can deliver on his part too. Anything under the sun she wants, he will give.

“Add another finger, baby. You can do it, come on, you’re almost there. We’re doing this together now.”

His eyes stay glued between her thighs, speeding up the pace of his own while she does as she’s told and adds in another digit. Judging by her dropping posture and the steady growing speed with a good enough amount of relief that wouldn’t hold a chance compared to Joel’s fingers.

“That feel better, baby? Ready to cum with me?”

She doesn’t verbally answer with anything but a long gasp followed by a cry, and he can’t take his eyes off the slight shake in her legs and hips. He’s seen this enough from her especially to know these tell tale signs, know that she’s going insane from riding her fingers all the way down to each knuckle. Joel is captivated by the sight as he always is, wide eyed as he began nearing his finish right along with her.

And just like that, his neighborhood crush is cumming on her fingers thinking about him, moaning curses slurred with his name.

Joel fell behind her by only a second when his wrist and hips both start to stutter, and only at the last second he realized he’d forgotten to get himself a tissue. Thick spurts of his spend land all over the glass of the window, smearing together and undoubtedly leaving a splotchy mess behind. Something he’ll be cleaning at least before tomorrow morning to dispose of the evidence.

He whispers her name and tucks the phone further into the side of his jaw, feeling her stare piercing right through the glass. It brought tingles up to his spine remembering that this wasn’t a one way street anymore. That she likes this too, that she wants him too.

“You cum a lot.” she observes, zoning in on how it drips down the glass he’s always watched her through. “Fuck, you made me cum a lot. My sheets are fucked over here.”

Joel gives her a chuckle, wiping his shiny forehead off with his upper arm. He watches her, just like he always has, except this time with explicit permission. She takes some sips of water, ties on a silk, pretty robe, puts her hair back. Gives herself the aftercare he wished he could give her. Once he stretched and sighed in his chair, he feels this rather unfamiliar sense of warmth in his chest lingering. Tucking himself back in his sweatpants for the night, he wants to scoff down at the leftover mess of his window.

“Next time you’re free, come over and sit in my lap instead of that goddamn bed in front of that goddamn open window.” he playfully scolds, still considerably dazed while the stars he saw swimming in his eyes slowly start to fade out.

“I’m always free. I don’t do anything except get coffee, go to class and come back home.” she admits. “And also I like to watch my peeping tom neighbor jack off and cum all over his window,” she laughs. It’s so infectious he can’t help but join in, even if his cheeks turn pink and he briefly looks back down at his lap. “But for real. You’re the first one I’ve talked to in kind of a little while. It felt… nice.”

Joel sheds the last thread left of withering self control, couldn’t help himself any longer, and springs up from his office chair like he’s on a mission, looking around for a nearby pair of slippers.

“Where you going? Gonna up and ditch me?” she asks, disguising her sinking feeling of potential rejection with sarcasm. Joel picks up on it and stops it right in its tracks.

“I’m not ditching you. Not gonna hang up the phone either. Come down just a sec, will you baby?”

She gives him a slight nod through her window, appearing more balled up and shy now that she wasn’t sprawled out touching herself for him. Giving him a memory to think about when he was in bed, if he was bored at work, or even waiting in line at a fucking grocery store. He still debates whether or not he should pinch himself just in case he’ll wake up and feel a wet spot in his boxers like some rabid, hormonal teenager.

It took no more than a dozen eager steps to reach her front door, and even if his nerves were trying to get in the way, it’s when she swung opens the door and falls right in his embrace that he knows this isn’t a joke, this isn’t a dream. This robe was just as soft as it looked from far away, her hair smelling even sweeter than he’d been picturing. Her pink cheeks and red lips entice him for more.

She invites him inside her vacant living room after both of them briefly scope out the neighborhood for wandering eyes. He does what he’s been meaning to do since he started watching her undress through his window and smacks his lips together with hers, tasting her chapstick and her minty mouthwash. It’s everything he thought and somehow more, getting to trail his hands down to cup all the places on her he liked. She eggs him on with the throaty little noises that she shyly let out into his mouth.

He moves onto her neck when she pulls away to breathe first. “You’re too sweet and pretty to be lonely, you know that?”

“And you’re too hot to be sitting at home staring out your window at me.” she retorts back.

“Checking in on you,” he corrected.

“Whatever. Oh, can’t forget your souvenir,” she reached into one of the pockets of her robe to fish out those used lace panties she’d been playing with herself in.

“Thought… thought those were new,” he whispers as if someone might hear or see him accepting a pair of panties from his twenty year old neighbor.

If this were happening to any other man he knew, they’d brag about it to anyone with ears. Joel wasn’t interested in boasting. To simply put it, he wanted this all to himself. Keep her all to himself.

She offers him a shrug. “Keep them. Plenty more where that came from, but I got a hunch you already knew that,” she wiggles her eyebrows, snorting out a laugh.

Joel snatched them up without another word, doing what he’d always imagined to get to do, shoving them in the pocket of his pants to revel in later. He tosses his head back and just groans, knowing now that she possesses plenty of ammo to tease him for as long as he’s alive.

“Well, I’d keep that pretty mouth shut until you buy some goddamn curtains.”

-

thank you for support + love these past few weeks especially but also in general!!!! it makes me cry but in the happy way:)

masterlist + buy me a ko-fi

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller/you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #ask #anon #tlou fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller hbo

[yanderederee]

Baji with 12 if it hasn't already been requested for the writing event

Event prompt12:

“We’ll burn it down and then we’ll build the world again.”

a/n:using the full context for this prompt; this is JD’s way of expressing how he intends to kill the guys who bully Veronica for spreading false rumors about her… and I want in on that👹

got a little too lost in the sauce and couldn’t find a good time for this as a line of text though; so please accept this instead.

cw: extreme bullying, toxic solutions, murder

Baji seriously had enough.

On the first day of school, Baji noticed your pencil drop under your desk, and decided he’d retrieve it for you in passing. You were so grateful for his assistance, completely over the moon with gratitude. It would have been unnerving, had you not been so sincere.

Usually, he wouldn’t give a normal person like you a second thought. But that sweet smile of yours captured him.

Ever since that day, Baji’s had his eyes on you. You were careful in the way you moved and talked, doing your best not to get in anyone’s way, or say the wrong thing. Soft spoken to a fault, but always kind and considerate.

Baji made an effort to talk to you more in class, soon after. You relied on him occasionally, enough to eventually call each other friends. But your relationship was only began to develop… He couldn’t have known about the bullying you experienced whenever he wasn’t around.

You never told anyone about the extent of your mistreatment. You thought it’d go away on its own— that ignoring it and paying it no mind would eventually make you less entertaining to mess with.

It wasn’t so bad… at first. A teasing here, being shoved there.

And Baji had no idea…

—-Until today.

It was just another school day. Cruelly early, bustling with students who were unusually chatty about the latest gossip hanging in the air.

“Are you serious?! That girl from Class-3?! I never would have guessed...”

“It’s always the quiet ones, I guess. Slutting herself out for attention though? How pathetic.”

“She’s not even that cute, you know Takeru just did it with her out of pity.”

“He told me she’d kept begging him for it! How disgusting!”

“Gross! I hope I never have to sit next to that whore ever again~”

‘Jeez, girls these days are so harsh’ Baji thought to himself in passing. Who were they even talking about? Some girl in class-3? That was his class. Well, he doubted he’d know who it was either way.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Upon entering the threshold of his class, Baji was frozen in shock.

It was routine for him to seek you out and chat with you for the first few minutes of class, before the bell rang.

However, instead of being met with your greeting grin, all that remained was a completely destroyed, empty desk.

Your desk.

His blood was boiling.

That was it. He’d seriously fucking had it.

Immediately, Baji looped his arms through the straps of his school bag, and made a B-line for your desk. He picked it up, and held it upside down by the metal bars underneath.

He wasn’t sure if you’d already seen the damage or not, but he decided right then and there no one else fucking would. It was fucking cruel. And he was pissed beyond measure.

“Baji-san! Just where do you think you’re taking that desk?” His teacher hollered after him. “I’m throwing it away!” He yelled back, a seething rage evident in his tone. If the teacher said anything after that, it didn’t even register to Baji.

Baji had a feeling you were aware of the rumors going around. You were always on time to class, so he was sure you’d also seen your classmate’s cruel defacing.

First and foremost, he was throwing this fucking desk away. Then, he’d go looking for you.

He wasn’t sure where to find you, though.

Possibility 1; you never came to school to begin with.

Possibility 2; you went to class as usual, saw the desk, and ran away. It was a toss up between if you went home or stayed on school grounds.

Those were the most likely possibilities he could think of.

Having finally made his way to the school’s dumpster, he took a moment of rest before tossing it in.

If there was one thing to beware of about Baji, it was his blinding hot rage. He’d practiced composing his tempter while in school. He couldn’t let himself lose his cool so easily. Calm down. He had to calm down, especially before he went looking for you…

However, fate had other plans…

Two wanna-be delinquents could be overhead chatting while ditching class behind the dumpster.

“You mean Y/n, right?”

“Yeah that’s the one! Takeru said she almost drew blood with how bad she was at sucking dick!”

“Poor guy. She probably wasn’t any better in bed…”

More Fucking Rumors…

Baji quickly untied his hair, and slipped his glasses into his school bag. If he couldn’t control his tempter, he could at least try to maintain face.

Baji stalked up behind the two punks, the desk dragging behind him in an eerily tight grip. He soon came close enough in distance to lift it single handedly, and slam it over the back of both of their heads.

Before they had time to react to their sudden assault, Baji just kept wailing.

With both hands, he kept swinging the desk up and down.

When they moved to dodge, he swung against the side.

When they tried to move away, he crushed their kneecaps.

When they begged for mercy, he hit harder.

Over and over, until he began to spin out of control. Wild with disgust and hate, the lies they would have spread were eating up all the sanity he had.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Fuck.

Every.

Last.

One.

Of.

You.

“Pl… se…. … op… st…op—“ whispered out one kid, his last words sputtering past his broken teeth.

Wait, what happened?

Baji had a sudden moment of clarity. Two kids, beaten maybe a little more than half to death, laid motionless before him.

Shit, did he go too far?

When was the last time he blacked out like that?

But the rage circulating in his fists had yet to subside. “You conscious?” He asked his begging victim. The poor boy’s crocodile tears were response enough. “You ever, fucking dare, say another word about Y/n, ever. And I swear to god. I will fucking kill you.”

The punks were left there, barely alive.

Baji felt thankful he hadn’t gotten any blood on his school uniform, before discarding of the bloody desk at the very bottom of the large dumpster container.

He honestly felt a bit grateful to those two. He’d managed to blow off a good amount of steam thanks to their insolence. He took a deep breath, and began wandering the school in silent deliberation over where you may be.

Where were you… home, or school?

He’d figure he’d try his hand at looking over the school first. Careful to avoid any of the hallway monitoring teachers during classes, Baji checked every floor throughly.

Eventually it came down to the roof, or you’d ran home. Usually, the door to the roof would be locked at a normal school. However, Ryusei broke that lock long ago so he’d have constant access to the roof whenever he needed a nap.

Running up the stairs and through the roof door, he searched the area. Lo and behold, there he found you, huddled into yourself with your back against the wall. You were crying, not caring about how loud you may have been.

Finally…

Even though he’d been searching so hard to find you, now that he was actually there… Baji had no idea what to do. What to say. But he had to say something. His heart was breaking just looking at you.

Slowly, Baji made his way closer. You looked up when you heard footsteps, expecting to have been caught by a teacher. Yet you were surprised to instead see Baji, holding back a bitter expression. Quick to wipe away tears, you looked away right after. “S-sorry, I’m not feeling really well… could you please leave?” You asked shakily.

Baji pressed his lips into a line. “I know… I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner,” he said quietly, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay to cry. Let it out.”

He made sure to hold you tight. Though, even if you had tried to escape his grasp, the overwhelming urge to cry kept you in place, clinging to him even. There, you cried for a good ten minutes or so, unable to suppress the feeling of being so humiliated and hated.

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t do anything t-that they’re saying I d-did… it’s all lies…” you sobbed into his chest. Baji knew that. He knew it. Hell, even if it was true, he’d still feel this same way.

“It’s okay, I know. You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Baji spoke clearly, lifting your face to look him in the eyes. “I’ll make sure they apologize, and take back everything they said about you.”

“I promise, they’ll pay for the things they’ve said and done to you. No one will ever think of you in that way ever again.”

Baji promised you with fire in his eyes. While his expression would be scary to most, you couldn’t help the way your heart beat out of its chest at his words.

You were quiet for a while, wide and doe eyed under Baji’s meaningful gaze. “How… do you plan to do that…?” You asked.

Happy to see his declaration helped ease the sadness in your heart, he smiled, and kissed the crown of your head. “Don’t worry about that. Just know by tomorrow morning, everything will be back to the way it was.”

You weren’t sure why, but those words comforted you deeply. You didn’t really believe he was capable of something like that, but his intentions were enough. You smiled back at him, and nodded. “Sure,” you agreed absentmindedly. “Thank you.”

Baji felt as though for the first time since he’s met you, things felt right. You in his arms, smiling, relying on him, holding him back. This feeling he had been unfamiliar with, this whole time, was Love.

As soon as he came to the conclusion, that he loved you. Something in Baji shifted. A creature he had no idea lived inside him suddenly started making itself known.

How could they do this— to someone so undeserving of their malice? Who would ever dare to hurt someone as sweet as you?

It was an extraordinary wrong that they’d committed against you. One that couldn’t go unpunished. He hated them. Wanted them dead. Would kill them. That was the only way to make things right, he began to think.

“Come on, let’s go.” Baji said softly, helping you to your feet. You looked up at him inquisitively. “We’re ditching.” He clarified, offering you a mischievous grin.

Normally, skipping school would be against both your wishes. However, given the circumstances … You grinned back with puffy eyes. You took his hand, and together you snuck out of the school with no trouble.

Having snuck out to a nearby diner, you both enjoyed each other’s company. You two always got along well, his sarcastic remarks were somehow easy for you to read, and kept you fueled with engaging conversation.

Baji seemed like he could be the awkward sort around girls, but in truth, he simply had no interest in getting close with anyone. Only you.

It made you feel better, feel special in a way.

The day had started off in the worst way possible, but now, laughing to the point of tears with the person you liked the most, everything felt like it really would be alright….

Baji glanced at the clock, noticing how many hours had passed by so quickly. “We got one more stop to make before I walk ya home, sound good?”

You nodded at him simply, smiling wide.

… So why were you walking back towards the school?

“Uh, Baji? Where are we going..?” You asked nervously. Baji squeezed your hand reassuringly, throwing a grin your way. “Don’t worry, just trust me.”

And so you did. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves, and put your trust in the person you liked so much.

Standing off in a nearby alleyway just a few streets over from the school, Baji told you to wait behind as he stood at the alleys entrance, scanning students as they passed by, not giving him a second glance.

Soon, a familiar group of voices made your throat close up with anxiety.

“I still can’t believe you actually slept with Y/n! You sure you ain’t infected with her creepiness?”

“Hahaha! As if. It’s nice not having to see her gloomy face at school anymore though.”

“You’re the man, Takeru! Next time, invite me, Kay? I’d—“

Suddenly, there was no more outspoken foul voice speaking. “Mm? Suiren? Oi! Suiren!”

Quiet for a moment, Takeru could hear an unfamiliar thudding should come from the nearby alley.

Baji’s first punch was enough to knock the boy out cold, yet one after the other, Baji’s fist threw punches more fierce than the last.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die—

“Wh-what the hell..!”

Baji’s head turned eerily slow, as he watched his friend get beaten in horror. Blood and hair stuck like glue against his cheek. Before Takeru could run or scream, Baji dropped the unconscious boy, and wrapped one large and bloody hand across his face.

“Shut the fuck up. That is, unless you want to die right now.” Baji threatening voice cut deeper than bone, dragging the two boys deeper into the alley and away from prying gazes.

Takeru doesn’t dare take his chances. Obediently, he nodded vigorously, putting his hands up in defense while holding back tears. Whiling scanning the area for a means of escape once his chance came, he quickly spotted a small form not too far off, frozen and wide eyed.

You.

Oh shit, he began connecting the dots.

“Takeru Izukura, right?” Baji asked. His victim wasn’t eager to confirm this. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t a smart move. Tightening the death grip he had on Takeru’s skull, Baji shoved him against the wall, and began ramming his fist into his stomach.

How could someone be strong enough to crack a person’s rib in just one punch? Takeru couldn’t help the pathetic yells that ripped through his throat. As desperately as he wanted to cry his apologies out now, it was impossible to so much as breath with all the air being knocked out of him with every one of Baji’s outrageous punches.

All the pent up rage Baji had been saving was finally making itself known. The events of the day began flooding his mind with white rage. The desk. The rumors. Your tears. All of it. He gritted his teeth so hard he could feel a molar chip.

All because of this asshole. Only a few minutes ago he was laughing about your severe mistreatment, and only now wanted to apologize? Even if he did want to hear his excuses and sputtered sorrows, it wouldn’t be honest. It’d have been reactive.

You stood frozen at Baji’s brutal assault. You had half a mind to step in and stop this whole mess, but after catching a clear glimpse of Takeru’s face… you gulped.

“B-… Baji.” You called out quietly. Upon hearing your voice, Baji immediately stopped. Blood soaking his knuckles and face, he looked your direction, an unreadable expression on his face.

Should he feel shame for letting you see him like this? Maybe he should, but nothing like that came to surface. After your call, all he felt was attentive. He waited for you, as you moved closer, looking his victim in the eyes.

“I want… to hear what kind of apology you have to say.” You combed through your words carefully. You felt hatred for him, but had he given a sincere apology, maybe you could forgive him.

Takeru looked at you, warily. “It’s your fault I’m in this position in the first place—“ he tried reminding you, but a heavy fist broke his nose in response. “Try again asshole.” Baji warned.

Your bully sobbed. “I’m sorry! I fuc-cking sorry, okay! I won’t make shit like that up again!! I swear!”

You felt bile rise in your throat. “That’s it?” You asked, waiting only a few moment for a response. When he looked at you expectingly, you grew angry.

“You don’t even remember the half of what you’ve done to me, do you…” you chocked on tears you didn’t want to surface. “How about a sorry for tripping me down the stairs the first time we met? An apology for ‘jokingly’ pushing me against the desk, and flipping my skirt up for all your buddies to see?” You began listing ways he’d fucked up. His face went pale, now under two sets of hostile eyes.

“That so?” Baji’s deep tone only sent the beaten boy into a cold sweat. “W-wait! I’m sorry for that too, okay! R-really!”

But he wasn’t. Not really. He was just sorry he was caught.

“I don’t give a damn what happens to you. Whatever happens is what you deserve.” You swallowed hard, and took a step back. “Baji…” you drew your gaze back to him and his blank eyes. You didn’t know what to say.

But he understood just fine. “Leave this to me.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tr baji #baji #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x y/n #keisuke x reader #yandere baji keisuke #yandere #tw yandere #yandere writing #yandere boy #heathers #writing event #yandere writing prompts

[ginevrapng]

character guide

reoccurring characters i frequently write about or plan to

(i love getting requests and asks about these characters!)

— best friend!james

"can he really stay in denial and pretend he's not in love with you if lily knows, what if she's told the others. what if she's told you?" best friend james is kind of toxic. he's jealous and possessive. he tried to ignore his feelings and instead focused it all on lily evans, who they later dated and broke up with. you and james have been best friends for years, you've known each other since first year. you call him 'jamie' and no one else does. you have a playful relationship, it's also affectionate with hugging and physical contact in general. you get cold a lot and end up stealing his blankets and covers from his bed, james has no complaints because when he eventually gets them back they smell like you. you have no idea of james' feelings towards you. you fancied james at one point before deeming that you had no chance with him and you couldn't ruin your friendship you had together.

— bestfriends!dads marauders / bfd!marauders

"you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?" "what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself. your best friend is harry potter and the marauders have taken an interest in you. they've noticed your lingering looks and they're waiting on making a move. you spend a lot of time around harry, so you also spend a lot of time around them, every time they want to make you theirs more but they're being patient. they've fooled around together in the past, remus and sirius more often than the others. they'd have one night stands with random girls together. they don't want to treat you as a one night stand. harry and you are in your early 20s, the marauders being around 43. magic is never mentioned.

— boyfriend!neville

neville places a delicate kiss on your temple and speaks lowly into your ear, "love you flower." you two have been in a relationship for quite some time now. he tells you he loves you and you tell him you love him too. you're an intimate couple, always seen holding hands and cuddling. in private you are the same, you find it hard to keep your hands of each other, and mainly it's you that would be described as a more needy person, always wanting to kiss him and fuck him while neville tries his best to put his foot down, you're rather persistent though. boyfriend!neville is a soft dom and worships the ground you walk on. he has a slight geordie accent and loves pet names, calling you 'flower' and 'petal' a lot.

— friends with benefits james / fwb!james

he has to tell you. he has to tell you. i love you. i love you. i love you. your relationship is that you have no relationship. you're not really friends but make out all the time. you've never spoke to each other about what you are or your feelings but overtime you've both fallen in love with each other but the other one doesn't know, and the whole school doesn't even know that you know each other. if james mentioned your name to his friends he'd get confused looks and they wouldn't even know who you are. you're not a gryffindor and you're very different to james, quiet and well behaved. you don't stand out from the crowd and you don't wish to, you don't have many friends either, preferring spending time alone. james goes out of his way to learn your time table so he knows where you'll be and when, wanting to know when he can steal you away from your next class so he can see you. you both wish you could spend more time together but never mention it to each other. james calls you 'love' but you're oblivious to how genuine it is and how he never calls anyone else it.

#best friend!james #bfd!marauders #boyfriend!neville #fwb!james #♡ lana talks #♡ mine / writing #///// #harry potter #hp #james potter x reader #neville longbottom x reader #poly!marauders x reader #hp x reader fluff #hp x reader smut

[yellow-berrys]

he's like that | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: Sirius Black is colder than ice, and you are not. where you slowly melt down his cool physiognomy and find your way into his heart. all good things come slowly, and surely. fluff.

warnings: references to an abusive household, disowning, alcohol, food.

navigation | masterlist 

Sirius Black was not the friendliest person you had ever met. In fact, his general disposition was somewhere middling carelessness and ice, a combination many people found irresistible. Sirius did have emotions, though. You had seen him laughing with Marlene, one of your best friends. When you had bounded up to her to talk with them, he vanished. 

Oh, he was an enigma, that one. One time, he was in the library, laughing with Remus. You had waved to Remus and he had stopped laughing. You frowned and Remus rolled his eyes, walking up to you.

“He’s like that. I’m sorry.”

You had waved him away, “It’s okay, Remus.”

And that time in Charms left you bitter about him. 

Flitwick had ordered you to partner up with Sirius, and you had. He hadn’t spoken a word to you, never. 

“Now, class,” Flitwick had noticed your very one-sided conversations, “Remember that no matter what, you must all get along. I don’t understand, we’re all from the same house here. Well, except me. But not all of us can be intellectually gifted. Now swivel and tap!”

Sirius still didn’t spare you a glance. Shrugging, you remembered Remus’ words.

You were great at Charms and socialising anyway, you didn’t need some no-good, high and mighty aristocrat to excel. You caught the eye of Lily, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Sure.”

“Professor,” you raised your hand in the air, “May Lily and I be excused for prefect duties?”

Flitwick was very kind, “But first, please show me the Protego charm.”

You both casted it flawlessly and he nodded, “Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

Sirius just rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sorry about Sirius, he’s like that.”

“Not your fault, Lils, I don’t mind.”

“It’s never personal.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Early start on Transfiguration?”

“Sounds good.”

“He is just like that, you know.”

“I know,” you said as you sat into your Transfiguration seat, taking out some parchment and beginning to write. People filed in soon enough. 

Sweeping a glance of your whereabouts, you caught the eye of Sirius Black seated close to you, who was currently grinning at the mess of Lily’s hair he had just made casting a spell to straighten it. Immediately his grin was wiped off, replaced by an indifferent stare, but your eyes kept moving. They found the deep brown of Marlene, who just smirked at you in an attempt to look cool as a cucumber for Dorcas.

The class was usually interesting– McGonagall always had the most rigid and demanding lesson plans, but she filed in with a murderous gaze today. 

“Jeez, she looks like she’s on a warpath,” James whispered to Sirius. 

“Yes Mister Potter,” McGonagall drawled, “In fact I just found a sixth year frolicking in the corridors, they had the nerve to talk back to me! Nice to see you Miss Smith, how’s the knee?”

“Well, thanks Professor,” Gertrude Smith adjusted her cast underneath the table. 

“Right, page 679 of Transfiguration Advanced, I want you to pair– would you stop causing that ruckus, Mister Malfoy! And Miss Brathburt, please readjust your tie! Where was I at, yes, I will put you into pairs seeing as you, Miss Holt, cannot stop chatting. We can talk about Potions later, yes I can hear you Mister Crabbe. Your goal is to turn a piece of the other person’s hair curly and turn it back. Make sure to flick, not swish, contrary to Charms, Mister Black, we don’t want to cause a static mess. I dread to see what your Charms work is like.”

As she spoke, she flicked her wand in the direction of Lily and her hair went impossibly tidy. 

“Mister Potter and Miss Mckinnon. Mister Malfoy and Miss Meadowes. Mister Pettigrew and Miss Brathburt. Miss Holt and Mister Lupin. Miss Smith and Mister Gerard. Mister Black and Miss L/n. Miss Evans and Mister Diggory. Mister Samson and Miss Perdentio. Miss James and Mister Gideon Weasley. Mister Fabian Weasley and Miss Rembrandt. And Miss Kane and Mister Rembrandt. Chop chop now, let’s get a move on. I don’t want to see pink hair or any frizz or trust you will be staying in next period.” 

You grimaced. You turned to Lily, and asked her only half jokingly, “Wanna swap?”

McGonagall shot you an amused look, “No swaps, Miss L/n. We must all learn to get along.”

“Funny,” you snarked to Lily, “I remember Flitwick saying that too.”

Huffing, you point your wand at Sirius, who was taking his sweet sweet time talking to Peter. You muttered the spell under your breath and Sirius felt his hair coil up. Then you turned it back.

You turned to the professor, a small smile playing on your lips and she looked approvingly at you. “Page 256 for extension work, class.”

Sirius was apathetic, and continued his conversation. 

You had already completed the work on page 256, so you chose to take out a piece of parchment and continue your Potions homework, glancing at Marlene occasionally to see her gazing fondly at Dorcas. 

“Mister Black,” McGonagall warned, “Mister Pettigrew.”

“Minnie, you know my hair’s already perfect.”

“This is not about the charm,” she drawled back, “It’s about the practice, discipline…”

“And skill,” Sirius finished. 

“Well, show me then.”

Sirius waved his wand casually and your hair turned impossibly curly, more curly than it had ever been. Then he waved his wand again and it was normal. You were grinning at Marlene, mouthing encouragement as she glared back. 

McGonagall frowned. He shrugged and returned to his conversation. 

The bell rang and she strode out, stopping at the threshold, “Class dismissed. Homework is three feet of parchment,” groans rung from all around the classroom, “on the use of Transfiguration within the cosmetics industry and its impact,” more groans, “It will count for your final grade, and it is due next lesson.”

“But the next lesson is in two days, Professor!” someone called. 

She gave them a scathing look, “And whose problem is that? See you all in two days.”

Lily was furious after class. She stormed into Sirius’ dormitory, a whirlwind of ginger and red.

“Sirius Black,” she started calmly, “You are acting like the biggest grinch since Christmas,” her top lip curled, “I don’t want to say this but, you’re mean, Sirius.”

Sirius startled. He sighed. “Am I really?”

“She thinks you’re mean. I would say that’s a pretty good indicator.”

Sirius knew exactly who Lily was talking about. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. Sirius, you can’t keep on doing this,” she replied softly, “You’ve gotta let people into your life.”

“I can’t, Lily.”

“You can. And you will. I hate to do this to you, but you have to, Sirius. People are inevitable.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are, love, but you won’t be any less scared if you ignore everyone for the rest of your life. And I know it’s hard, but you’re strong, Sirius.”

“I don’t want to turn into them.”

“You’ll never, Sirius. You’ll never be them. Just, don’t be mean.”

“Where should I start?”

“Be yourself, but be nice, Sirius. You’re a great guy.”

Sirius started trying harder. When you bumped into Remus and him at the library, he didn’t glance past you, but nodded at you, like men did, he said to Remus. He started looking passively gentle, less cold. There were a few changes, but they became bigger. 

He was headed to Potions after smiling at Flitwick in the courtyard. Flitwick, with his usual assuming nature, which came with being very very advanced intellectually, had seen right through him. 

You had your arms linked with Dorcas, going the same way. 

“So much homework,” she sighed and you nodded, catching sight of Marlene in your peripheral vision.

“Marls! Over here!”

You offered your free hand to her and she snorted. “I don’t do physical contact, remember?”

Dorcas’ head peeked out on the other side. “Really?” she asked softly.

Marlene went red and you smirked to yourself. She stuttered, “I guess I could make an exception.”

Dorcas hummed. You wracked your brains, trying to figure out how to leave them alone. You spotted Lily and James walking, swaying in a romantic embrace. I’m gonna break it up, loverboy and girl. 

“Lily, where are the Muggle Studies notes?” you clashed Dorcas’ and Marlene’s hands together haphazardly, running to her. 

You had never seen Marlene so flustered. Dorcas just looked surprised, doe eyes looking up at Marlene in confusion. It made Marlene shudder, but she regained her composure and linked their hands together. 

“Awwwhh!” you heard Sirius, walking with his group of Marauders bar James, “You guys are so cute!” he teased Marlene, making kissy faces at her. Dorcas blinked innocently. 

Marlene unleashed her most gnarly vocabulary at Sirius, glaring at him. 

“He’s a little confused,” she smiled at Dorcas, “He means that we are both, individually, cute.”

Dorcas nodded, “Makes sense.” 

You were busy chatting to James and Lily, “This older lady came up to me, and I was looking for mothballs for my wardrobe, right?”

“Huh?” James frowned at the same time Lily said, “You could’ve just asked me, I have heaps,” she turned to her confused boyfriend, “They’re the little jasmine balls you were juggling with the other day, remember?”

Realisation washed over James, “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, okay, continue.”

Sirius was stone-cold on the outside. 

“So, Pads, you got an eye on any ladies?” Peter asked. 

He laughed, “Don’t think so, Wormtail.”

“Any gentlemen?”

“Nope.”

“Shame. Well, Mary and I went to the ice rink the other day.”

“How was it?”

“I’m not really good on land, who was I kidding to go on frozen water?”

Sirius guffawed.

“I was waddling like a fricking penguin whilst Mary looked like the snow queen.”

You kept a firm eye on Marlene and Dorcas. It was a magnificent contrast, Dorcas so quiet and tidy and sweet and Marlene so fiery and hot-headed and rude. Dorcas made Marlene more mellow and more open to love, and Marlene helped Dorcas to be heard more often. You smiled to yourself. What a pair. 

The cohort swarmed into Slughorn’s potions class, who was smiling that same old pretentious grin. 

“Please,” he held out a top hat upended, with little slips of paper, “It’s random tuesday!”

The whole class were used to his antics by now and put up with him begrudgingly. You reached in, and pulled out a slip of paper. 

It read, “34E” so you sat in the seat. James Potter was behind you, and he tried moving a spot to his right but he was glued into the seat. 

“I know he’s beyond cooky, but this is madness,” he whispered. 

You laughed, “I think it’s funny.”

Marlene walked in and you crossed your fingers she would sit next to you, but she sighed and sat next to James. 

“Seat buddy!” James put his hand up for a high five that was ignored. 

You giggled, and saw a hint of a smile on Marlene’s face. She herself began to smirk slowly as you caught sight of Sirius, nonchalant and handsome.

You had a general disdain for his aloofness, though you did secretly hope he would treat you like he did his friends.

“Hi,” you greeted him and he gave you a nod, taking out his quill and parchment. He swore under his breath when he realised he had forgotten his textbook. You glanced at him in confusion, half concern and apparently he’d been looking at you too. Inwardly, he melted. He loved nice people. But as he had come to learn, some nice people weren’t nice at all. Remember what Lily said, he thought. His eyes remained a cool, distant grey. 

“Textbooks to page 420,” Slughorn boomed, “Ha! Get it?”

You laughed, he was more childish than any of you, flipping open your textbook. Surprisingly, Sirius enjoyed the sound. It was certainly different to James’ big loud laughter, Remus’ quiet chuckles or Peter’s hysteric giggles, but it was a good change. 

Beginning to copy down the notes, you looked to the side to see Dorcas with her head in the clouds, as it usually was. Dorcas was the dreamer of the year. You finished writing and look around. Sirius was glancing at your textbook casually and you made a startled noise. 

“Here,” you whispered, moving the book more to his side than it stayed in yours. He was unmoved, nodding again. Maybe you were worth letting into his life.

“Dorcas,” Slughorn called, “Tell me what the main component of the Healing Draught is.”

Dorcas looked at him glassily, “Pardon?”

Slughorn repeated the question, tapping his fingers on the table in an impatient rhythm. 

Dorcas looked around, relieved as you mouthed “Wrathspurt,” scribbling it discreetly on your hand and showing it to her. 

“Wrathspurt, sir.”

Slughorn looked sceptical. “Very well.”

Sirius admired you a little more after that. He was close with Dorcas, who was best friends with Regulus. 

Slughorn dictated what you were to do next, which was to make a simple Healing Draught. You popped up quickly, retrieving ingredients, hauling a cauldron and juggling a knife, which you ordered Sirius to carry for you. He did so compliantly. 

He was impressed. You were complete competence mixed with modesty and a little charm, good humour. You made jokes which he found very funny but only ever smiled slightly at. He wanted you around more. 

Once the healing draught was made, you gave it a sniff and stared at it satisfiedly. 

“We did it, partner!” You held out a high five but then remembered that like Marlene, he didn’t do physical contact either, retracting it awkwardly and giving him an awkward smile to match. 

It’s the first time you’d seen him smile wide. It was the prettiest smile you’d ever really seen, his teeth flashing dashingly and his eyes lighting up. His aristocratically poised face turned into something boyish and warm. 

“Okay stop smiling now, it’s getting weird,” you laughed and he shook his head. 

You bottled up the potion and handed it to Slughorn, who approved. 

“Best of the lot,” he murmured and you bounded back to Sirius. 

“Sirius, he said it was the best of the lot!”

He smiled again. 

It was a few hours later, with him and James lying on their beds. 

“Hey Prongs?” he asked James, who was flipping through a Quidditch playbook, swinging his legs, like a Muggle girl in a rom-com. 

“Mm?”

“Can I invite someone to our Friday night funnights?”

James peered at him, surprised, “Of course, Padfoot! Who is it?”

Sirius told him and James raised his eyebrows.

“I thought she might be a good friend.”

“Okay, whoever you like, Pads.”

“Will Remus and Peter mind?”

“She’s in Remus’ book club and Peter, well, as long as Mary’s there, Peter doesn’t notice a thing.”

“Cool. Cool. I’m excited, Prongs, I think she might want to be friends.”

“I’m proud of you, Pads.”

Friends were good for you, Sirius came to learn. James was there for his brotherhood and support, Remus for his knowledge and his wisdom, Pete for a sense of innocence and boyhood. They were his closest friends but he had Lily, a kind, furious, motherly addition to his list of friends. Marlene for his ability to relate to whatever situation she had going on at home and how they both hated love, and Dorcas for her ditsy humour, and dreams. Dorcas inspired Sirius. There was also Amos Diggory, he was the golden boy and on the rare occasions he and Sirius met, they got along like a house on fire. Maybe you, too.

And here that opportunity sat opposite him, head leaning on Mary’s shoulder as you giggled. You had complimented his choice of music and the questionable room decor that consisted of two broomsticks and a suspicious stick. It was Sirius’ night, James had insisted, toasting his glass of orange juice to new friends and enemies. 

Truth or dare was being played, though by now it had turned into Truth or Truth, a bottle of Veritaserum sourced by Lily half empty. Red cups of orange and apple juice were sitting all around, Firewhiskey discarded. It had been because you opted for orange juice, and everyone else had joined you, not wanting to keep you responsible for all of them when they were past their limits drinking booze. You were sticky with joy and warmth, laughing and crying.

“Prongs, what’s your hot take on Lily?” Remus asked. James took a swig of his orange juice, dosed with Veritaserum. 

“She’s secretly a world-class ballerina.”

Sirius snorted, “Evans? No way.”

“Thanks, idiot. I would be offended but I remember that you have less than two brain cells and pity you.”

Sirius pouted. 

“Y/n, who’s the prettiest person in the room?” James asked. 

You sipped your orange juice, “Marlene.”

“Awh, love you my little hermit,” Marlene smiled at you and you smiled back. 

“I didn’t need orange juice for that, Marls.”

“Okay, quit it.”

Sirius began to see why Marlene hung around you so much. You made Marlene happier, more rounded. She was grinning into her cup of apple juice. 

“So, Y/n, you gonna hang out with us more often?”

“One question only, Potter, but I guess. I already spend lots of time with Lily and Marls and Dorcas. If it’s okay with you.”

“It’s great.”

“Yay! New friend!”

“What about me?” Peter blinked at her and you smiled, “You’re my friend too, Peter.”

“Do I get a ‘Yay’?”

“Yay! New friend!”

Laughing. Sirius looked weirdly meek, weirdly emotional. You noticed, and he was surprised. 

“You too, Sirius.”

He nodded, grateful. Inside, he was elated. His walls were coming down slowly. 

The night began to wear away after the clock hit 11 and Lily had to go, so James had to go. Then Remus went down to pack away the common room. Peter and Mary sneaked off to her Ravenclaw dormitory. Dorcas fell asleep on Marlene’s shoulder, leaving her stunned. 

“That means she feels comfortable around you,” you whispered and Marlene broke into a wide smile. 

Sirius was sitting, and he was quiet. 

“You alright, friend?” you asked him. 

“The orange juice is warm,” he made a face at you and you laughed.

“It’s better than hot cola.”

“Cola?” he asked. 

“What? You don’t know what cola is?”

“He lived a restricted life,” Marlene chimed in. 

“Oh no, no, Merlin, no,” you replied and Sirius thought for a second that you were rejecting his whole existence. His heart dropped, “That simply won’t do.”

You left and re-emerged with two cans of something red. They were cool against Sirius’ skin and he smiled at you. 

“What do I do with these?”

It was opened, and let out a strange hiss. You passed it to him, and he took a sip. 

“Oh.”

You warmed one up by the fire and passed it to him. 

“Ew.”

“Here, give me a sip.”

You poured it into a cup, took a sip and grimaced. “Gross. That’s really gross.”

Marlene laughed, “Me next.”

You were about to pour her some, but she just grabbed yours and chugged, shrugging, “It doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

“Marls, it’s Coca Cola.”

“What? You mean rum and coke.”

“I keep a family friendly household. I don’t drink.”

“Prude,” Marlene retorted. 

“Dependent on alcoholic substances.”

“She isn’t wrong, Maroon.”

“Maroon,” you said, thoughtful, “That’s nice. Mar is kept and it’s her favourite colour. Maroon. Maroon. Maroon,” you tested. Dorcas stirred, eyes bleary as she blinked up at Marlene. 

“Someone kept saying the names of random colours in the dream I was having,” she mumbled and Marlene shhed her, “It’s okay baby,” you looked at Sirius and faked gagging which made him chuckle. It was a deep and pleasant noise. 

Marlene looked annoyedly at you and you giggled, “Think I’ll stick with Marls.”

Dorcas drifted off again. 

It was a few days later and you were sitting in the library, legs crossed over each other as you lounged, reading a book. Dorcas sat opposite you, sketching a picture. 

“So, Sirius, huh?” she asked, tone far away and feather light. 

“We’re friends,” you said happily.

“Really? He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“We’re friends,” you repeated. 

“He’s different.”

“We all are.”

“When you met him, what did you see?”

“He’s detached to everyone outside of his bubble. Cold. But when you do see him start to open up, he’s very warm. I wonder what he’s seen.”

“Interesting. You feel the temperatures. I see colours. He’s a purple to me, deep purple.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s royalty. He’s a mix of blue, for his calm and cool, and red for his emotions and pain. A dash of yellow, because he’s soft when you get to him.”

“What am I?’

“You’re so nice you can be whatever you want to be.”

You laughed. Dorcas flipped her sketchbook around and there was a picture of you, sitting peacefully. 

“Wow. Wow.”

Suddenly the wind, as if heaven sent, gushed through the window in an urgent rush. It blew the pages of Dorcas’ sketchbook, which were mostly filled with one particular face. Marlene. 

Dorcas blushed and you smiled to yourself. Again, the weather changed. Heavy droplets of rain began to fall through the open window and you and Dorcas squealed as she shut it. You both giggled and laughed as you ran back to the dormitories through the corridors. Thunder crashed as Dorcas began to look a little scared. Then a strike of lightning hit not far away, and she shrieked. She was scared of thunder. You felt out of your depth here, but were relieved when Marlene came thudding down the corridors with Sirius.

“Hey!” you called, “Marls! Over here!”

Marlene took care of the situation. Sirius was standing, observing, quiet. 

Marlene turned and gave you a very specific look, which made you start walking back to the common room. Sirius followed. 

“Is she okay?”

“Marlene’s got her. She does like Marls, you know. And guess what I saw in the library?”

“Mm?” His eyes peeked over to you. 

“A whole sketchbook. Filled with Marls’ face.”

“I wonder why,” Sirius smiled. 

“Marls is very pretty, Sirius.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Anyway, they’re gonna be at least two hours, I’m going to head to the Prefects’ common room.”

“Hey,” he stopped you, “Marlene usually watches the game with us on Saturday afternoons, which is where we were headed. Do you want to come?”

“As her replacement?” you shook your head, amused. 

“Well- I- no, you’re our friend. And I heard you went for the Cannons. They’re playing tonight.” 

“I’ll come.”

A pleased look came onto his face. It was warm and interesting. 

You followed him to a small little nook where James and Lily were huddled around a wizard’s television, bright colours flashing. 

“Pollarck!!!!!” you squealed as you sat down on a beanbag, admiring the Cannons’ Seeker. 

“Pollarck?” James looked bemused.

“I know, he flies under the radar a lot and is such a humble sport, but he’s my favourite ever made.”

“Um?” Sirius looked at you, confused.

Lily translated, “He’s got a boyish quiet charm that she admires.”

You nodded, “He gets the job done, no fuss, no bravado.”

Sirius smiled, “I’m a fan of GK myself.”

“He’s funny too.”

“Butterbeer- never mind. Apple juice?” James offered and you accepted. 

“Thanks.”

“We always keep it around now,” James smiled warmly at you.

“You’re nicer than Lily lets on, Jimmy.”

“She’s just in denial.”

You learned that an afternoon of watching quidditch whilst taking tiny very noble sips of coca cola was the way Sirius enjoys spending his Saturday. 

“Pass the coke,” James said, and Sirius passed the red bottle. You choked a little on your apple juice as Lily and you shared glances. 

“Sweet,” Lily began, “That phrase isn’t what you think it is.”

After a quick explanation, you started laughing at James’ bewildered face.

“What’s-”

“Nevermind.”

Sirius was looking just as confused.

Eventually, the game did end, with your favourite player collecting the Snitch very quietly and hurrying into the changerooms just as soon as he did, the rest of the team trampling in after him to pour electrolyte drinks all over him. You winced.

“The crudeness.”

“Marlene plays,” Sirius smiled at you.

“The crudeness.”

“She’s been scouted for the Holyhead Harpies.”

“I know. The crudeness.”

“Sirius and I have been scouted for the Cannons,” James said. Lily was smiling. 

“Really?” you clapped your hands, “That’s wonderful!”

“They don’t even need to sit NEWTS,” Lily grumbled and you raised your eyebrows.

Sirius was quick to explain, “Pollarck and Jeffreys are retiring next year.”

“Noooooooo,” you cried, “Pollarck!!!” 

“He’s well beyond his peak,” James grinned, “He told me.”

“And after our careers, a commentating or coaching job is practically guaranteed,” Sirius joined in. He didn’t sound like he was bragging at all. “Want me to get Pollarck’s autograph?” he asked softly. 

“Oh, please!” you grinned at him, “Pretty please!”

“I’ll get everyone else’s too for you.”

You squealed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!” Sirius smiled. Being nice was nice. 

And that’s what he told Minerva McGonagall, lying back in her sturdy armchair in the living room of her quarters. 

“That Lily Evans does have a way about her, doesn’t she?”

“Prongs did fall in love with her, I’d say she’s a great lady.”

“What about you and Y/n?”

“C’mon, Minnie, I just made a friend and you want me to start falling in love. Impossible.” Sirius did not get it. Neither did you, really. He thought there was nothing and wouldn’t ever be anything between you and him. Right now, he just really wanted to be friends. He wasn’t looking for more. 

“I know, but you both work.”

He shrugged, “I work with everyone, if I try hard enough.”

“That is true. How’s the Cannons?”

“Excellent, Minnie, I think I can get you a broomstick that once belonged to Heather Proud.”

“Really? Oh my Merlin, that is exciting,” she lilted.

“Oh yes, and it only comes off my fantastic charm.”

She rolled her eyes, sipping her tea, “I did receive a letter from your parents the other day.”

Sirius’ face dimmed. He turned tense.

“They paid out your tuition here and left you the trust fund from your, I quote, ‘greatest grandfather who enclosed that all grandchildren must have access to the fund, bound legally and within familial bonds.’”

Sirius blinked confusedly.

“Basically, you’re financially steady, which is guaranteed by Perseus Black,” Minerva spoke softly. 

“Why do you seem so uptight though, Minnie? Isn’t this good news?”

“Sirius,” she choked up, handing him the letter. His eyes skimmed the words. 

“Oh Merlin,” he leaned back into his chair, “They’re disowning me!” He chuckled, before burying his head in his hands, “They’re disowning me.”

Minerva put her arms around him, “Oh son.”

“Why am I still sad about it?” he sobbed. 

“Son, no matter who they are, they’re your family. That’s not going to change. You’re bonded to them. It’s normal. It’s completely normal.”

There was one thing that was not completely normal though, Sirius thought, much happier than he had been a week ago. It was Sybil Trelawney. She was strange, odd, elusive. Her big eyes bore into Sirius’ as she examined him. 

He gulped, widening his eyes at James. Something was about to happen. 

“Sirius, my dear,” she stared off into the distance, “Is there someone new in your life?”

He shrugged, “Depends. What do you call ‘new’, Professor?”

“A young lady. Lovely smile. Ooh, she looks rather like that girl who dropped out of my classes. I understand. She told me she had bigger priorities, and with that lovely smile I could not be mad. We all tend to go our own ways…” Trelawney drifted off. 

She recollected herself. “I see, paths will collide and never separate. Interesting, interesting.”

All Sirius saw was that the tea leaves had drowned underneath his tea. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Maybe he should’ve dropped this class too. 

“Ooh, professor, I think I see a heart! Oh, now it’s a gigantic 65 headed monster that has red hair. Merlin it looks like Lily,” James giggled from opposite Sirius. 

“Lovely, Potter,” she sighed, “I do not get paid enough.”

Sirius smiled at her awkwardly. 

“Well, Sirius, there are open ends in your life currently. But I foresee– I foresee a feminine force.”

She moved on to another pair. 

Sirius facepalmed and James laughed. “Bro, I don’t know why I signed up for this class,” Sirius groaned. 

“Eh, don’t complain, you barely try and you’re first.”

“I made up all of my homework!”

“You know Trelawney likes imagination!”

“Surely there should be a limit to how much freedom of speech someone has! Feminine force, my foot. I have you and Lily, that’s enough feminine force to last me a decade.”

They both laughed. 

“Maybe she was talking about, about your new friend,” James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Sirius laughed. 

“No way she would.”

“Paths converge, never to diverge again,” James mocked. 

“I’m done,” Sirius sat back in his chair, eyes flickering around the room.

“Well, Sirius,” Trelawney observed, “You may be dismissed.”

Sirius “Yippee!”d and James muttered something that sounded like, “Handsome old teacher’s pet.”

He strode out of the room and into the corridor, immediately blasted with the sound of quiet wailing. It was a first year boy, looking so very distressed in his too-big cloak and clutching his wand. Sirius felt very sad, so decided to approach the kid. 

You were clicking through the halls, from the library to your next class. You heard his voice, it ricocheted through the walls, and stopped, sneaking your head around the corner. Sirius was bent down, talking hushedly to a young boy. You could piece together their conversation. 

“Little guy, what happened?” Sirius asked. 

A small voice sniffled, “I got lost. And- and my term hasn’t started well. Mrs McGonagall glared at me today, my potion blew up in my face and Mrs Trelawney said I might fall ill. All my friends ditched me to go play Quidditch and when I was tying my shoelace, none of them waited for me. So I’m here now.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. But let me tell you, Mrs McGonagall has this thing- have you heard of it? It’s called a resting,” here he swore and the small kid laughed, “face. Don’t worry about Potions, it hasn’t mangled you up at all. I don’t know what you looked like before but you’re very handsome,” he said, tender, “As for Trelawney, why today she said that I would have a feminine force in my life. You don’t take her for real, my dude. Your friends? They’re not nice, little dude, you shouldn’t put up with them. You deserve someone who will wait for you whilst you tie your shoelace. I can show you to where you want to go, which would solve your last problem. I can be your friend too.”

You felt something swell in your heart. It was earnest and deliberate, warm and you wouldn’t ever live the same way ever again. Oh no, you thought. 

This is how you would justify it- this impending crush on Sirius Black. He was so sweet and very beautiful, with those gorgeous eyes. You couldn’t help yourself. And it would be kept aside, you’d leave it alone. You wouldn’t harass him, no, you would continue on building your friendship with him. You wouldn’t act on your feelings. You turned on your heel, nearly crashing into Professor Trelawney.

The last time you had seen her was her crying over your departure from the Divination class. It had been a lachrymose affair. She looked jumbled, all over the place. Her eyes widened, larger than you thought they could ever get. 

“Ah! It is you!”

“Yeah, afternoon! I’ve got to rush, I have Arithmancy, professor, bye!”

“The very Arithmancy you left my class for!” she yelled.

“I regret it!” You smiled back. You didn’t. 

“You don’t, dear, good luck with your NEWTs.”

-

Your NEWTs did come and go, and after them you and your friends went out to celebrate. A Bacchanalian affair, and even you had decided to take a tiny sip of Butterbeer, recoiling in disgust and viciously trying to drown the bittersweet taste with your orange juice. 

The mood was joyful. Basically everyone had been offered a job after graduation, despite their NEWT outcomes. There were a lot of people crowding in the tiny bar, most being seventh years. Sirius was sitting with James at a counter, cautiously drinking his orange juice. Like always, everyone was staring at him. It wasn’t his dress- he had just put on a simple crewneck sweater with the little triangle under the neckline and some sweatpants. It was his whole physiognomy, you thought. Every day you had spent with him meant he became more and more stunning. He had the loveliest face, sculpted true to Aphrodite. Where did I come from? you smiled to yourself. 

And he was observing you, through his hair. He had a cool enough disposition to offset the amount of staring he was doing. Like him, you weren’t dressed up at all, but you were still pretty. Sirius had forgotten exactly how beautiful you could be whilst he was busy being friends with you. 

Pretty? he thought, Am I out of my mind? 

James tapped him on the shoulder, “You okay, Pads?”

Sirius blinked, hard. “Yeah.” 

“Right, well I’m going to go talk to McGonagall. You’ll be okay?”

“Excellent.”

Sirius played with the handle of his cup. How does Prongs do this love thing?

He felt the seat next to him shift and turned. It was a girl, upon a closer glance at her, it wasn’t you. Why does that even matter? You dolt.

“Hey baby,” she shuffled close to Sirius. Her arm came to hook around his tricep, “You know, you’re really hot.”

He was physically pained by the interaction, prying her arm away. If she felt rejected, she didn’t show it. 

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. He glanced at his fingers, placing them under the table and shifting one of his rings to his ring finger. You caught sight of the strange sight before you. Sirius looked uncomfortable. 

“A drink for the hot man,” the girl declared to the bartender, “And then you can come back to mine.”

He grimaced, “I’m sorry, but-”

“No buts, handsome. I know how to have a good time.”

She went to touch his face but he caught her hand. 

“Stop.” 

“Will I? You’re far too manly of a man to really make me.” 

“Stop,” he repeated.

She trailed her hand down his chest and he shifted back.

You were quickly shuffling through the crowd and he felt relief as you approached them. His eyes flickered to yours. They very obviously flashed in discomfort. 

“Hey!” you rushed over to him, hugging him very lightly. He whispered a thank you, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, gosh. And who is this?” 

The girl supplied her name.

“Sorry, but we have to go, don’t we?” you tilted your head at Sirius. He knew this was all a ploy, but he melted, nodding, dipping his head down to whisper another thank you in your ear. You laughed and shook your head. Outside, he enveloped you in a hug. It was lovely and mellow. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “Why?”

“I’m supposed to be strong. I’m a man.”

“No, you aren’t supposed to be strong all the time, Sirius. No one is. Men are manly even when they cry and it doesn’t make them any less if they are girly or like pink or any of that. She was forcing herself onto you, and it isn’t fair that if it were a girl, people would be all over it.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s warranted. Does this happen all the time?”

He nodded. 

“Gosh that is terrible, Sirius!”

“You’re right. I need a bodyguard. You up for the spot?”

“Of bodyguard?”

“Of course.”

“Not cut out for it, I’m ‘fraid,” you grinned. You were already friendzoned, you were sure of it, you didn’t want to be bodyguard-zoned too. 

“Shame.” He didn’t know why he felt disappointed. 

–

Sirius was struck with the burning revelation the day after. With no NEWTs to worry about anymore, you were always with him, some way or another. He liked you. More than he should, maybe. He thought you were gorgeous and so, so, good to him. Good for him, too. 

“Minnie, I think you were right.”

“Mm?” McGonagall barely looked up from her newspaper. 

“I do like her.”

The woman let out a triumphant ‘ha!’

“I like the way I feel with her.” 

“What are you going to do about it, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t think she knows, Sirius.”

“I know. Do you think she cares, though?”

“Oh, definitely.”

You peeked your head around the open door of McGonagall’s office. Sirius could recognise you from anywhere. He slunk down in his chair but McGonagall gave him a nod. From the angle you were at, you couldn’t see him.

“Hi Professor!”

McGonagall smiled at you, “Well, good afternoon!”

“I was just here to ask if you could switch Lily and I’s Prefect Duty for tomorrow. I know it’s a short notice, and I’m sorry for that.”

McGonagall swivelled to the calendar on her wall, flicking her wand. 

“Your shift?”

“8am with Connors.”

“Her’s?”

“8pm with Reginald.”

“Why the switch?” McGonagall’s blue eyes pierced through you. 

“There’s a dance tonight.”

“Aren’t you going to be attending?”

“Oh, it’s a couples event only.”

“Aren’t you- Don’t you have a plus one?”

“Unless you can find me one,” you joked, “But no, it starts at 7 and Lily has to be there. You know how James gets.”

“I do,” she said curtly, “He’s terribly pouty most of the time.”

You nodded, “Exactly. And mine is nice and early! And I don’t have anything on in the evening. You do know, Professor, Dorcas and Marlene got together so that wipes out half of my dormitory. Alice is with Frank, Mary with Peter. Oh gosh, I must sound so miserable. Anyway, enough about me, are you going?”

“I’m supervising,” McGonagall laughed. 

“Exciting! Right, so we can switch shifts, right?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you so much! Have a great day!”

“You too, sweetie.”

Sirius waited for your footsteps to recede to huff, “How come you call her sweetie?”

“That is beside the point. Young man, she doesn’t have a date for tomorrow’s dance. Do you?”

“No. I was just going to flirt my way in.”

McGonagall rolled her eyes, “Now you don’t need to. Go.”

Sirius rose, unsteady, making his way out already. He stopped at the door, turning around and flashing his million dollar smile, “Thanks, Minnie.”

Then he sauntered out. 

He found you in the common room, laughing in a corner as the girls showed you their dresses from above the stairs. 

“Oh my gosh Mary that’s so stunning! I love the detailing. Oh let me go up there, you are so hot, gosh!”

He heard vaguely a voice, a dreamy one, “So, you’re really not going?”

“Yep.”

“You know Diggory well, he’s hosting. I’m sure you could get in.”

“And be the only single around? I’d be third wheeling everywhere. Cas, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Let’s see your dress.” 

Sirius assumed that Dorcas stepped out, and you squealed.  

“You are so pretty, Marlene will be stumped when she sees you. Oh my golly let me take photos.”

And Sirius was left smiling at you, as you rushed to get a camera. He remembered he needed to make a move. 

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” he stepped in, “Do you want to go with me to the dance?” he asked, gentle. 

You whipped your head around. 

“I noticed you didn’t have anyone to go with, and all your friends are going.” 

You beamed, he was so sweet, sacrificing his own time for you. 

“You are very kind, Sirius, but you should be asking someone you actually do want to go with instead of putting up with me just so I don’t feel left out,” you laughed. 

“Actually, it’s killing two birds with one stone. I get to ask someone I actually do want to go with and you don’t feel left out.”

“You want to come with me?”

“Yep.”

“As friends?” An opening. Sirius took it. 

“Nope.”

You looked at him, unreadable and quiet. 

“As more,” he said. 

“Okay then.” 

That was it. Sirius smiled, so brightly at you, so warm and lovely that you blushed and turned your head away. He climbed up the stairs. 

–

Oh he had never seen anyone more beautiful. He offered his arm to you and you took it happily. 

“We never talked about what we were.”

“Sirius, do we need to?” Your lips were ghosting his, so close. 

“You’re right. Can we go slow?” 

You tippy-toed, pressing your lips to his. He's like that, you thought.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius x you #sirius black x reader fluff #fluff #lily evans x reader #lily evans x you #harry potter #marauders #the marauders #padfoot #padfoot x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus x you #remus x reader #hogwarts #gryffindor #reader insert #marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon x reader #dorcas x marlene #dorcas meadowes #james potter x reader #james potter x you

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for going off on my boyfriend for going in the wrong hole?

Sorry for something so obviously NSFW and TMI, but I don't really feel comfortable asking anyone I know IRL because I don't want it getting back to my friends and family who don't know I'm sexually active. (yes I'm an adult and it's perfectly legal but my entire community is very religious)

I (F19) have been courting a guy we'll call Alex (M22) for about a year now. Alex is a really nice guy and has always been respectful of my boundaries. I'm kind of soft spoken and he advocates for me harder than I do. If one of our friends interrupts or speaks over me he'll stop them and say "I'm sorry, but she was talking and we should let her finish." He's even defended me like that to my parents a few times. He also gives me rides to and from all my classes, and is always so attentive to me. He is so open with his feelings and communicates with me openly and freely, so much that he has made me a more open person as well. I genuinely feel like he brings out the best of me, and he says I do the same for him.

I say all this to emphasize that is absolutely the only aspect of our lives I've ever had a problem with him with. I told Alex pretty early in our relationship that I wasn't a virgin (a very bad thing in our community), and I understood if that was a deal breaker for him. He said it absolutely wasn't, that he still liked me and still wanted to court me. That he would keep that a secret for me no matter how our courting ended, either in break up or marriage. And that there was absolutely no pressure to ever have sex with him if I didn't want to.

I was also the one who told him I wanted us to be sexual before marriage and he agreed. The first time we did it he asked how I felt about anal, and I said it was a hard no go for me. He just said "okay" and never brought it up again.

But a couple of weeks ago we were doing it and Alex was behind me and suddenly it went from V to A. I screamed because I was surprised and it hurt a lot, and he immediately stopped and started apologizing profusely. He seemed so upset by it I ended up being the one comforting him and telling him it was okay, but obviously the mood was killed so we just stopped. But then a week later it happened again the exact same way. And again he seemed so upset by it and it immediately killed the mood.

Alex has tried initiating a few times since then but I really don't want to have sex with him if this is going to keep happening. He said he feels hurt that I cringe away from his touch like he's a monster, and I snapped back that he should quit hurting me like one then. That once I could understand but he did it twice and I would be stupid to trust him not to do it again. He looked really hurt by that and said it was just a mistake, that it happens a lot to everyone. I said it never happened with me and my previous boyfriend. He said that's just because we got lucky, that he has had more sex than me and he knows this sort of mistake happens all the time.

Then he said he could tell I was still in the feelings stage about this and not ready to work it out, so he would wait as long as it takes for me to come around and talk to him. Because he loves me and doesn't want this small disagreement to hurt us. That made me feel really small. Like I was a kid being scolded by a parent. Now I'm kind of feeling like maybe he's right? He does know more about sex than I do, and both times it happened he immediately stopped and we didn't get to finish having sex, so I have a hard time believing he enjoyed doing it?

So I'm here to ask tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[yandereunsolved]

Roses are Red; Violets are Blue - ,, yandere pre-death Tate

cw(s): yandere themes, suggestive themes, mention of cocaine, Tates actions (the lighting of a human on fire & a school shooting) a/n: Tate is aged up here and is in college instead of high school. He dies at age twenty-one instead of seventeen, because it feels weird to write an older teen as a romantic yandere. Mentions of Violet— she's eighteen and a senior in high school.

✧ You both grew up together, sort of. You were always someone Tate could never talk to. He was a bit too scared to speak with you. You just seemed so perfect, and he was not. You moved into his neighborhood when you both were much younger. His hellish 'mother' didn't like your family for a reason; he never quite paid attention. It was something about you all not being holy enough. About how you were going to corrupt her perfect golden son. There was nothing you taught Tate about himself that he wasn't bound to figure out. He learned about boners after peeping through your window one night while you were changing after a shower. He learned the true meaning of the words 'I love you' after he overheard you speaking of how excited you were for the new Nirvana album. You even taught him how to follow people and not get caught by that person or the authorities. All this, and he still hadn't had a proper conversation with you yet.

✧ You legally started your friendship relationship sometime early in your freshman year, on October 30th, 1991. It was just something else that made him fall head over heels once again for you. He was having an already shitty day when some athletic losers began bullying him. He was getting pushed around for the umpteenth time this week when he tried to fight back. He got knocked on his ass and a nose that was both broken and remarkably bloody. You rushed over and offered to help him. He brushed you off and was a bit snappy; he still regrets that to this day. He just didn't want you to see how desperate he was for your attention. He craved your touch. If it weren't for all the blood on his face, you would have easily noticed how flushed his face was from just being in your vicinity.

✧ You offered to take him to the nurses office, and he 'begrudgingly' agreed. He was bouncing on his heels in his mind, and he swears that his nose bleed got worse. You even offered to help him walk there if he was dizzy, and naturally, he leaned on you. He even took a whiff of your scent near your neck. He had to resist nuzzling into you because you just felt so warm, like home. Like a home he never had. He asked you to stay even after the nurse said you could go back to class. He'd made up some lame excuse about you being a witness and him having to report it. Such a fucking lie. None of the administrators would give a shit. Everyone in this godforsaken college is an adult. So 'bullying' doesn't exist, apparently. At least the college is near both of your houses.

✧ That's the best part. This is your first real interaction, and you are already inviting him over. You feel bad that his nose got sprained and that the nurse had to reset it. So you—

'Oh my god, you called me cute!? You said you saw me around the neighborhood all these years and were too shy to talk to me. You've always been so shy. You've always been someone who needed someone to take care of you. You'd take care of me so well. We could happily take care of each other. Wait, sorry. I'm rambling too much. Iris, get back with the headcanons before I go on about them for another three hours.'

Made sure that he didn't get left alone. You heard from around the neighborhood that his mother is kind of nuts. So you thought he would be the same, but he's actually kind of awkward and distant, and sweet. You two spent the entire night together and ended up having a sleepover. Tate likes it a lot more when the sleepovers are consensual and not him climbing through your window, crawling into your bed, cuddling into you, then leaving you right before you wake.

✧ Something you have to know about Tate is that he is undeniably a pervert. Constance ruined any chance he ever had to take a girl out on a date. Then, when his casual interest turned into an obsession, he was able to sneak out without alerting her. So just being around you makes his mind run wild and his hands perspire. He steals your undergarments the most—it doesn't matter what they are. It could be anything from a lacy bra to a pair of men's boxers. He always steals your oldest items because your scent is ingrained into their very fabrics. He hides the items he 'borrows' from you in a box behind a brick in the basement. He goes down there every night and inhales your heavenly scent. His eyes roll back in his head, and suddenly he has a problem that he has to take care of.

✧ That's not where his perverted nature ends, either. He suddenly became very interested in photography. He buys a secret camera to use whenever he 'sees' you. Whenever he watches you when you aren't aware. He takes photos of you doing the most mundane things: exercising, cooking, working on homework, walking, breathing, and blinking. He also takes photos of you while sleeping, getting out of the shower, stretching, and wearing those skimpy little clothes of yours. It makes his mouth water fervently. The photos quickly pile up. He keeps the physical photos in the same box behind the same removed brick.

✧ He buys you more pretty clothes. Most of them are revealing, but you seem to like that. At least that's what he's seen in you in your private life. Of course, you don't know they are from him. He's too insecure for that. So he wraps them up all nice and pretty and leaves them on your bed. He always writes down 'your secret admirer' on the packaging. He opens your window when you and your family are gone and leaves them then. If he is feeling more confident, then he'll open your window and put the package on the floor. You start locking your window after that. So he's constantly breaking the lock on your window. When the family gets the police involved, he gets extremely upset. He begins to ignore you, so you know exactly how he feels when you ignore his gifts and say it's from some 'creepy stalker'.

✧ You are understandably confused when one of your closest friends begins ignoring you. You think he might be scared of the fact that you have a stalker. It makes you desperate. You don't want to be left alone. You need your friend. That makes Tate all giddy inside. He gets to stay near you whenever he wants. As much as he pleases? You seem so scared of some hypothetical boogeyman. It's just sweet ole' him! Not that you know that. He understands, though. He'd be pretty upset if some random man started doing the things he's doing for you. No other man could be as devoted to you as he is.

✧ Slowly, the number of your friends and close family dwindles. Each of your friends either cuts contact with you or disappears altogether. Now, now, Tate has put so much effort into this for you. It wasn't easy. It wasn't something he could pull off on his own. He had to scrounge around for as much money as he could to hire a hitman on several occasions. He stole the money from his mother's various rich and fleeting boyfriends. She would use them up soon enough anyway. So there's no reason for him to care about their financial well-being. Besides, he is doing it for a noble cause—a war is yet to come.

✧ He takes a different approach when it comes to isolating you from your family members. He will get along well with your family. Insert himself as a shy, college kid that lives down the street and is best friends with their child—their only friend, really. His mother picks up on this and is immediately displeased. Of course she has only scratched the surface of the iceberg that is Tates twisted delight.

"As long as you don't fuck that godless slut, I suppose you can be around them."

He wanted to snap his mother's neck right then and there. Lucky for her, he had other plans. He inserts himself into every facet of your family's life. He slowly learns the skeletons in your family members closets. Did you know your cousin once had a lewd dream about your partner? Did you know your grandfather cheated on his spouse not once but twice? Did you know your Aunt once tried to poison you? Did you know? Did you know? Did you know?

Some of those may have been slightly exaggerated or entirely made up, but you completely trust him, so what is there to worry about? 

Soon enough the only one you trust is Tate.

✧ You connect the dots somewhat, but at this point, you don't quite care. You just want this stalker to stop. You just want Tate. When Tate learns his feelings are somewhat reciprocated, the stalkings become less frequent. After all, if he is always allowed to be around you, then he doesn't have to stalk you anymore. 

✧ He starts giving you love notes after the two of you begin dating. The stalker fades into the background, and suddenly only Tate is there. He is perfect for you. He is your dream boyfriend. He writes these cheesy and poetic letters about his adoration for you. Some of them are creepy—really creepy. You can look over that, though. It's just Tate being Tate. He was never confident enough to share them with you while he was just your 'creepy stalker'. Now he gives them to you freely. Sometimes they are just little doodles. Other times, they are cheesy words. Occasionally, they do have a tendency to get a bit violent. 

'Me & U 4ever.' '1+1=Let Me Fuck You Up' 'Love you more than Kurt Cobain' 'Let's go to a music festival and have fun~ ;)' 'Wanna sneak out later when your parents aren't home?' 'Is that bitch bothering you again?' 'Commit arson?' 'The thoughts are back.' 'Need you' 'I just want to keep you in my pocket and then lock you in a cage that only I have the key to for all eternity.'

✧ Everything was perfect until it wasn't. For some reason, you started distancing yourself from him. You had found a new friend group. You had found someone more healthy than Tate. Tate's hold on you was beginning to crumble. It was like he was trying to hold your disintegrating heart in his hands. You weren't spending every single moment with him. Whether this was actually happening or if this was just his paranoia is unknown. It got to him, though. It got to him worse than anything else could.

✧ He lost it one day. He snapped. It was a comment that his mother's new boyfriend made. Well, multiple comments. He found a secret collection of your things. He had done a bit of digging and began to learn just how unhinged his girlfriend's son was. Instead of immediately reporting him to the police, he confronted Tate instead. He threatened him with calling the police. He said that he was going to tell everyone about how much of a freak Tate was. He was going to tell Tates, dear mommy, that her golden child was actually a depraved, perverted loser who got off on stalking his partner.

✧ He needed to be gone. That was the one thing that ran through his mind. They had gotten into a screaming match that night. Luckily, no one was home except them and the ghosts. The energy was charged and electrified. The Murder House had set its sights on its next victim, and it was more than eager to swallow him whole. The devil in his mind didn't whisper any longer; he shouted. He spoke in a loud and commanding tone and told Tate exactly what to do and when to do it. How to win your affection back.

✧ He snorted a line of cocaine and grabbed his rifle and some gasoline. He lit that fucker up at his work. He was no longer his mother's boyfriend. He was just a charred corpse. He had one problem taken care of. Now, just one more stop—your college, our college. He needed to get rid of those little friends of yours. So, he did. Every single one of them he shot dead in front of you. He looked you straight in the eyes and pointed the barrel at your head. There was no restraint or morality in his hazel eyes. There was only darkness—a certain unhinged spark you had only seen in fleeting moments. Now it was a mighty flame, and it was coming to burn everything you knew to the ground.

✧ He made you beg for your life. He made you like it. He took you right there at that table and acted like it meant nothing. He kissed you deeply and dug his fingers into your living flesh. He knew it would be the last time he would have you in such a way—as long as he was living anyway. You were covered in bite marks and his residue by the time the cops came. 

You heard the next day that they shot him multiple times. You had mixed feelings. They had asked you if he had your consent. You said yes. They didn't believe you. You didn't like that. You didn't like that you liked it so much. You hated yourself for it. You couldn't help but admire the marks he left on you. They were like pieces of art. They'll fade, but the feeling of his fingertips ghosting your body in the most intimate manner won't.

✧ He gets extremely lonely; boredom overtakes him. He still has that box filled with your things, so he's always going through it. It's almost sadistically hilarious. He started with only his fantasies, and now they are the only thing he has again. At least he now knows what your skin feels like and how you taste. You have those things to keep him company. Not to mention, some of your clothes still smell like you. They're his comfort items. If any entity in the house tries to touch them, he will have an immediate meltdown. So, they've all learned to leave him alone when he's having his private time—his fantasies of you, him frenzily groping the cloth like it were your own soft, tender, plush flesh. 

✧ He was surprised when you came to visit the house once again. Tate revealed himself immediately and hung on to you needily. He peppered kisses all over your face and neck. He was so unbelievably relieved by the fact that you forgave him. You promised to visit again and again over the years. It made his soul soar; he almost feared that he had passed onto heaven and that you were only an illusion in his mind. You both did what you always did. You seemed cautious at first, but some part of you just stuck with Tate.

✧ Many seasons passed, and you visited him less and less. You moved on to better and greater things in your life than him. He isn't exactly sure what happened to you. You just stopped visiting him one day. The entire house became a lot more frigid and foreboding after that. There would be no heavy make-out sessions that left the both of you breathless. There would be no more late nights spent talking about everything and anything going on in the world. There would be no seeing your age, your beautiful face, and your figure known only to his mind. There would be none of that. Only him. All alone...

✧ Now, after all these years, he admires a girl who reminds him of his first love. Those tendrils of obsessive ectasy sneak into his heart once again as he hears her name, Violet. It was like the world had regained its color—well, a singular color. One fact about you rang in his mind over and over like a never-ending church bell as he watched the new family move in.

"Oh, my favorite color? It's Violet, silly."

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @t4telangd0ns1ut @etheral-moon @evanpetersmybf @evanpeters-posts @fear-is-truth

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #tate langdon #tate lagdon x reader #yandere tate langdon x reader #yandere tate langdon #ahs fanfiction #ahs murder house #yandere #yandere american horror story #violet harmon #violet core #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #my headcanons #ahs headcanons #headcanons #hcs

[a-mint-bear]

Your Secret Admirer

Female Yandere x Reader

Part 1

The story of your secret admirer and how she fell in love with you.

[tw: suicidal ideation] - it's vague but it's there.

Part 2

She'd been alone for some time.

===========

Her father traveled for work, she could count the number of times he'd been home and seen her in the last ten years on one hand. Her mother had been more attentive when she was younger, from what she could remember, but that stopped pretty abruptly when her younger brother had been born. He had a lot of health problems and spent a lot of his childhood in and out of hospitals, their mother stayed by his side. She didn't really know him, and he didn't know her.

Between her father's job and her brother's health, she had attended a new school every couple of years. When she finally felt settled, every time, they would pick up and move again. She stopped trying to make friends fairly early on.

She made sure to never cause trouble and worry her family. She was always the perfect daughter. Never underfoot or in the way, even when she wanted her family's attention more than anything.

No one to cry with when things got hard. No one to nurse her back to health when she was sick. No one to celebrate her birthdays with her. No one to say good morning or good night to.

No matter how good her grades were or what she achieved, they never looked her way. They didn't need to check in on her; she was their healthy child, the one who never caused any trouble, who could take care of herself. She knew they loved her, but she couldn't remember the last time they had actually told her so, or even showed her. Her mother had her brother and her parents had each other, there was no one who was only hers.

She had always been on her own.

Even when she'd started college, every day was still so meaningless... nothing really mattered. She never found anything she wanted to be or do... She found herself just going to her classes day after day, never speaking to anyone, just because she was... supposed to, to stay out of the way.

Then, that day, she was walking to her classes when everything just... stopped.

She couldn't take it anymore. Why should she keep going? There wasn't anything for her to look forward to anyway... She couldn't bring herself to take another step. What was the point? In any of it?

If she were to disappear, how long would it take her family to notice? There wasn't anywhere meant for her... no one to look to... and a future that was getting harder and harder to picture herself in.

If she walked off and kept on walking... would anyone even notice? She wanted the world to stop so she could just... breathe.

She was so empty, it physically hurt.

The world slammed back into motion when she was suddenly knocked to the ground. There was a stinging, throbbing pain on the side of her wrist.

And there you were.

You were apologizing over and over, saying you weren't watching where you were going. You hovered with a worried look as she got up, she was still kind of out of it.

When you saw that she had scraped her hand on the concrete in the collision, you reached out without thinking. When you took her hand in yours, she couldn't breathe. You led her to a nearby bench and sat with her, getting into your bag. You got out a surprisingly cute bandage and stuck it on, still apologizing and fussing, but all she could focus on was your touch.

It jolted everything awake inside her. She was hyperaware of everything. The way the sun hit your eyes, the smell of your shampoo, the nervous lilt in your voice as you kept on apologizing.

And your warmth. She was in awe at it; it had been so long since she'd felt another person's warmth. A kind voice, a comforting look in their eyes.

Everything about you filled that empty space.

You asked her if she was okay, and those words finally broke through.

"Yes." she nodded, suddenly aware of how rude she might've seemed. "Thank you... for helping me... um?"

You just smiled and told her your name. It sounded so... right.

She told you hers back, and to you it was something so inconsequential. An accidental meeting between two strangers not likely to ever meet again.

But to her, it was everything.

You flashed one more warm smile and gave one last sincere apology before standing, and it took everything in her to not ask you not to go. But that would be strange, right? She was just a stranger to you, you didn't owe her that. But she wanted so badly for you to stay.

And when you were gone, all she wanted was to see you again.

===========

The next day, you were on the same route. She watched from a ways away, trying to figure out what your day looked like, when would be the best time to come and see you again... But the longer she watched, the more she found herself... nervous? She'd never felt this way before.

If she said the wrong thing, or made a bad impression on you, she was afraid you would look right through her, like everyone else did.

Look at me.

It became her mantra. It repeated over and over in her head as she watched you, she uttered it again and again like a prayer as she fell asleep to thoughts of you. She poured the words like a blessing into everything she made for you. It became her fondest wish.

She had daydreams of you. Always of you seeing her again. In some, you smiled and called to her. When you said her name again it would fill her with such warmth. In others you looked at her with disgust and fear at discovering how she'd been following you. She was surprised to find that he latter option gave her such a strange thrill.

As long as you were looking at her, it didn't matter to her with what intention.

She left you gifts. Little things to guide you back to her, when the time was right. She wrote her thoughts in love notes she would slip into your bag or leave where only you would find them. She left a bookmark with pressed baby's breath flowers in the book you checked out from the library. They were small and didn't stand out among other, brighter flowers, but staring at their tiny, delicate blossoms made her feel... something. She wasn't quite sure what. She'd taken flowers from the same branching stem, set them in resin, and made them into a necklace as something like a matching set. It made her feel close to you, in her own way.

You used to spend what felt like forever looking over the things she left you, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with surprise or confusion, but always something behind your eyes that made her heart skip a beat.

But after a while, you started to ignore the things she left you. No surprise or raised eyebrows, or funny little smiles at her clumsy poetry. Not even annoyance or disgust at finding yet another trinket she'd made you or the all-too-personal fantasies she'd left in a note. Just...

Nothing.

You just left them where you found them and kept going about your life, like it didn't matter. Like she didn't matter.

You couldn't see her anymore.

It left her feeling sick.

She cried and screamed in that empty house, where no one heard her. Just another place where she wasn't really... there. You'd become such a comfort to her, but now all she could do was sit alone with her thoughts. She skipped her classes, she couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep, but there was no one to notice. No one to care. She was spiraling down into something awful. She started thinking of all the ways she could get your attention again, none of them as pleasant as the gifts and notes like before.

Love her or hate her, anything was better than the cold indifference that stabbed through her heart, ripping out every piece of you and making her empty again.

She couldn't go back to that. She refused to feel that horrible ache again. She made a plan. It was time for you two to reunite, no matter the consequences.

"Just you wait..." she smiled, holding her necklace tight, gently caressing the smooth surface under her thumb. She held it to her lips as her mantra ran through her mind over and over again.

"You'll finally see me..."

===========

an anon asked for a longer story for The Secret Admirer yandere girl

Original Yandere Girl Types post

#female yandere #yandere girl #yandere #yandere imagines #female yandere x reader #female yandere x y/n #The Secret Admirer #slight retread of her bit of the yandere girls post #now with more backstory #part 2 will be here before long #it was actually written first and just needs a little editing #im not up for actually using y/n in the text just yet #one day i will be so bold #but that day is not today #maybe in Part 2

[angel-fics]

In The Room Where You Sleep

Summary: Dalton was just being curious and stumbles upon something he probably shouldn’t have. He then does something he shouldn’t have.

Warnings: Mentions of the Further, mentions of entities, Dalton being a creep, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), sexual fantasies

All credit to @glodessa who wrote the imagine that inspired this, so much talent there and you’re feeding my Dalton addiction

Dalton was your friend. His primary art class was in the studio next to the orchestra rooms where you practiced in. He’d wandered in on you playing a section piece on the violin after he’d forgotten that his class was cancelled.

Since you two had obviously seen each other on multiple occasions when going to and leaving from class, he’d felt comfortable striking up a conversation. He usually wasn’t into initiating introductions, but Chris had started forcing him to interact with more people and make friends. You were the first person he had introduced himself to without her assistance.

In a way, he felt a sick sense of possession when it came to you because of that. It made him feel funny, like he was gross and he tried to stomp it down, but it would crawl it’s way up his throat whenever you talked to him. He’d met you all on his on, without a buffer or cleverly charming segue. You knew him for him from the get go, and still liked him. You liked him enough to start waiting for him before classes for a chat. You liked him enough to exchange contacts and let him take pictures of you to save for his own personal enjoyment put into his saved contacts.

You liked him enough to let him walk you back to your dorms every time he had the chance to. Which he did, considering he started walking a different path to insure that he would run into you more often.

He didn’t think he was odd, not really. Lots of friends took secret pictures of each other. For fun, it was funny, like a secret joke. And lots of friends walked together in between classes, it was normal. Even if they didn’t share certain classes. Or if one of the friends wasn’t completely aware that the other friend was nearby.

Dalton didn’t consider it strange that he didn’t like when you talked to Chris, or any of his other friends. Or anyone that might find you attractive. In his eyes, that should’ve meant everyone. You were gorgeous and people should be falling over themselves trying to be with you, in his opinion. But you were his. His friend, at least. And he hated not having your full attention.

Nighttime was the worst, in some ways. You two had met up on occasion to help each other study or wind down from an intense test. But most nights, you turned in early to spend time with your roommate. Dalton hated your roommate, she was so clingy and always convinced you to go back to the dorms, cutting off his time with you. He thought she was off, or at least very selfish, and that she used every opportunity to guilt you and take advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Dalton would never do that, he was lucky to get to be your friend. You were beautiful, talented, kind and accepting. You even accepted his ability of astral projection without hesitation. You were beyond perfect to him, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you. Constantly, and usually aloud, much to Chris’ annoyance.

“Dolphin! Please, for the love of fuck, ask that girl out already. You’re driving me nuts!” She threw herself back onto the spare bed in Dalton’s dorm in dramatic agony, groaning loudly in complaint.

“No, Chris. She’ll just think that I became friends with her because I wanted to get in her pants,” he dismissed, tossing a dirty t-shirt into his hamper a little too forcefully.

“Isn’t that what all guys do? What’s the big deal?” Chris sat up again to try to convince him. It wasn’t the first time either, but she was almost positive that you liked Dalton back and would rather you keep his mouth too occupied for him to verbally obsess over you. Like he was doing right now.

“I’m not going to do that, Chris. Just drop it.” His voice was unnervingly firm and Chris snapped her mouth shut before another incentive could fall out. Dalton was usually mild-mannered, at least when it came to anyone but his dad, not really the aggressive type. Anti-social and surly, but not aggressive. Unless it had something to do with you.

Chris thought there was something not quite right about Dalton’s crush on you but she figured his abnormal childhood and resulting trauma made it hard for him properly process his feelings. And she was reluctant to ask in case it set him off.

“I heard her roommate is going home to her parents’ for her dad’s birthday, maybe y’all can hang out more this weekend,” Chris suggested instead, unfettered by Dalton’s tone. “She left earlier this afternoon.”

Something seized in Dalton’s chest. You hadn’t mentioned that to him. You didn’t have a reason not to. Was there someone else? Were you going to spend the whole weekend with another guy? Did you have a boyfriend? Anger and hatred for this secret man clouded his mind and he felt like throwing something against the wall until it broke.

“I hadn’t heard about that,” he replied to Chris coolly. “I’ve got some homework to finish, do you mind?”

Chris nodded slowly, grabbing her bag and quickly making her way to the door, watching Dalton worriedly. She gave a half-hearted wave goodbye and left without a word.

As soon as the door shut, he quickly locked it, tearing his ball cap from his head and flinging thoughtlessly towards his desk, knocking over a small stack of his sketchbooks and a tin of water. Cursing under his breath, Dalton begrudgingly trudged to clean up the mess before the water could stain or damage any of his work.

After mopping up the water, he flipped through his drawings to check if any of it ruined the paper. One of the sketchbooks was relatively new, but nearly full of pencil and ink sketches. Of you.

Most of them took up an entire page of their own. They were innocent, somewhat, just candids that he’d done while or after hanging out with you. You smiling, laughing, playing the violin, biting your lip awkwardly. Gorgeous and sweet.

There were some other ones, smaller in comparison to the rest and done with a light hand. You changing through the window of your room. You bending over at work. You crying to your mom on the phone after you tore your favorite dress right before a date you ended up not going on. Done in a hurry by someone who was sketching without a still reference.

It was not stalking. No, he wasn’t like that. He didn’t threaten you or send you lewd messages. He didn’t get off on scaring you or making you feel unsafe. He wanted you to feel safe around him, did everything in his power to make sure you were always comfortable with him. Plus, he never invaded your privacy, he just looked. Watched. It was friendly, protective even.

Plus, those sketches were nothing compared to the rest. Small enough for three separate drawings to fit on a page, and darkly filled in with a heavy and rough hand.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He was a guy. You were his crush. He couldn’t control his own thoughts, let alone his dreams. It happened, and it was completely normal and natural. Not at all creepy or perverted.

He dreamt of you often. He couldn’t keep his mind off you even in his sleep. Of course, his unconscious mind was different than his conscious mind. Mostly, anyway. A lot more eager for you, hungry for you.

The pencil drawings were of you as you appeared to him in his dreams. Bent over his desk, wearing a string of pearls and a sultry smile. You, on his bed with your legs spread out invitingly, your fingers scissoring your slick folds. There was even one featuring him, his lower face dripping with drool and your arousal as his tongue delved into your wet heat from under you. That one was his favorite, even if the drawing itself wasn’t exactly his best work skill-wise. He had a hard time balancing the pad with only one hand, which he was also using to draw.

Dalton sighed and picked up all of the sketch pads, putting them back where they were and collapsing on his back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should bring up your roommate leaving and confront you about not telling him. You must have had a good reason, right? It’s not like you were getting tired of him or anything. Right?

As he drifted further and further into his thoughts, the room became darker around him. Standing up to fix his lamp, he caught the sight of himself sleeping in his peripheral. He’d fallen asleep and accidentally projected.

He didn’t do so often anymore, the Further was a scary and dangerous place and he was cautious of bringing something back with him. But it had its advantages, for pranks or finding out things that others couldn’t. Surprisingly, he’d never used his ability to watch you. You were too pure and beautiful to see through the lenses of the Further, he liked seeing you surrounded by light and color, with no potential of evil spirits ruining the experience for him.

But just this once…

No! He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

You trusted him, it would be so easy. And it’s not like he was trying to be a weirdo, he just wanted to see if you had plans that weekend without having to actually ask you. It would only be once, for a few minutes. He wouldn’t mess with you or your things. He would just listen in and leave.

He grabbed the lantern and walked out of his room. He could’ve found your dorm with his eyes closed, but since it was in a different building and he was traveling through the Further, it took him longer than he would’ve liked. But at least he didn’t encounter anyone. You lived on the second floor of your dorm house and yours was nicer and more expensive than his. You had your own bedroom and personal bathroom, not having to share with your roommate and the rest of your floor like Dalton did.

Your door was unlocked and after he entered your dorm, he locked it himself, knowing he’d have to unlock again it in order to leave. Your bedroom door was open and he could see you through it, sitting at your desk and typing on your phone. Silently and curiously, he peered over your shoulder to watch you text your roommate.

He rolled his eyes at seeing her contact but ignored it in favor of the messages being sent. Mostly average, just you being your considerate self and asking about her trip home. She, obviously, sent paragraph after paragraph detailing every insignificant second of her weekend away, not once asking anything about you. The entire conversation revolves around her and Dalton had to bite his tongue to avoid scoffing in your ear, which was inches from his mouth.

Finally she asked about you, specifically your plans for while she was gone. Luckily, she could serve a purpose for once, Dalton thought.

You mentioned work, homework and just relaxing and Dalton was tempted to leave and rid himself of his craving to kiss you. Then, he saw you type his name. You wanted to surprise him by inviting him over for a sleepover. Your roommate responded by teasing you about you and Dalton finally progressing to the next stage in your friendship; a relationship.

Huh, maybe your roommate wasn’t as bad as Dalton thought she was.

Dalton’s heart was racing as he continued to read all of your roommate’s suggestions for extremely sexual twists on common sleepover activities, all in order to seduce him. You didn’t have to try to seduce him, but trying any one of these wouldn’t hurt. He felt his cock hardening in his pants and knew that he probably should’ve left. Like, now.

But then you sighed loudly into the empty air. Your head dropped back, your lips parted and you shifted awkwardly in your seat, your thighs pressing together tightly. Dalton felt his mouth water just watching you and suddenly stopped in his tracks. He decided that he would wait until you either went to the bathroom or fell asleep. If he tried leaving before then, you might catch him.

So he stood off to the side and simply observed you from up close. You seemed more deflated when you weren’t around him, less animated and poise. Less…cheery. You continued to stay at your desk texting your roommate for a while before getting up for a glass of water. It seems like she was going to bed. You paced around the kitchen as you sipped your drink, looking slightly anxious about how the conversation ended. Dalton regretted not reading it along with you and now he couldn’t because your phone was off and locked.

Huffing out a tense laugh to yourself, you marched back into your room, passing Dalton to get to your phone. You continued pacing as you opened up your messages and scrolled until you found a particular contact, hesitating for a moment and then opening the chat thread. Dalton stood in front of you this time and read his own name from upside down. Why were you pausing when it came to texting him? Did this happen often? We’re you inviting him over?

He watched you type out a greeting and began pacing in your room. When the message delivered, Dalton panicked before remembering that his phone was next to his actual body. You wouldn’t catch him over his phone notifications sounding off in your otherwise silent room.

You turned off your phone and sat on your bed, your back straight and your eyes staring out into nothingness. Your leg bounced erratically and you started checking your phone every thirty seconds in case you missed his message. You were waiting for a response from him, Dalton realized. And he couldn’t do that while he was standing here with you.

Now was definitely the time to go and you gave him the perfect opportunity when you started collecting your things to take a shower, muttering to yourself about how desperate you were. It was clear that you were agitated from waiting on his message, and he supposed it was because he hardly ever took more than 20 seconds to start typing back. He only took long if he was busy, and he would always tell you beforehand if he was.

As much as he wanted to watch you undress yourself and shower, becoming aroused slightly once more at the idea, he wouldn’t cross that boundary when you were so vulnerable and unaware. It was completely different from the times he watched you change your shirt or remove your bra from outside your window. He was in your home and you were going to be completely naked. Dalton wanted go reserve that honor for when you would strip in front of him eagerly, at least for the first time he ever saw you naked.

*~*~*

Gasping, Dalton sat up in his own bed, his erection pressing against his sweats and his body feeling sweaty. He immediately opened his messages and read your message asking him what he was doing. Getting his own clothing, he walked to the common bathroom in his dorm house and stripped, sending you a picture of his shower stall with the reflection of his bare torso halfway in the frame.

He’d never been so forward with you before. You’d seen him shirtless on occasion, he wasn’t shy about his body, but never on purpose and he hardly ever sent you pictures instead of just telling you what he was doing. But now that he knew you felt the same way he did, he felt confident enough to give actual signals to tell you that.

He turned on the shower and waited for the ancient water settings to actually heat up the water. As he was about to step in, you messaged him back with a photo of your own.

You were wearing nothing but a robe, tied at the waist, but doing a very poor job at concealing your cleavage, and your hair was soaked. The mirror that you had taken the picture in was fogged and he could see streams of steam swirling in the air around your head. So you liked really hot showers, fuck, that was attractive to him. You smiled shyly into the camera with one of your hands clutching a towel in your hands.

You: “I just got out of the shower, how funny is that?”

God, you were adorable without even trying. He wondered if the placement of your robe was intentional or if you were just that sexy without trying to be. It could go either way, you were as effortlessly cunning as you were absurdly oblivious to your affect on others.

He quickly went through his shower routine quickly, not taking his time to enjoy the water and relax like he usually did. He didn’t want to keep you waiting again. He decided to toe the line of flirtation and idle conversation once more by sending you another photo. This time following your lead with a mirror pic. He was still shirtless and brushing his teeth with an overly wide and sud-filled smile. His shorts hung low on his hips and his entire frame was centered in the photo this time.

D: “What’s up?”

It was a lame line, but he wanted to keep the conversation going and see if you were going to invite him over. He spit out his toothpaste and gargled mouthwash, accidentally swallowing some as you replied back. Coughing at the strong taste burning his throat, his eyes widened as he memorized every pixel of the photo you sent, catching on to his little provocation.

The mirror in your bathroom was still slightly fogged but he could clearly see that all you were wearing was a t-shirt. It was big enough to cover your thighs, so Dalton didn’t know what you were wearing under it and he could see your nipples poking through the material ever so slightly. He dragged his lip into his mouth and bit down hard, hand clenching on the edge of the counter. He gathered his shower stuff and walked back to his room, keeping his towel gathered in a ball in front of his crotch in case he ran into anyone this late.

It didn’t occur to him to read the message you sent until he was about to send one himself. He was so distracted by your selfie that he completely forgot that he was in the middle of a conversation with you. He wondered if it was weird to be more turned on by you in your pajamas than you soaking wet and in a towel.

You: “Nothing much? What are you doing right now?”

He sat down on his art stool, and angled the camera at the mirror that sat in the corner between his spare bed and the wall. He hadn’t gotten the motivation to actually put it up so it laid on its side and only showed from his waist down at this angle. The picture showed his bare stomach, shorts and legs, with one of his feet braced up on the leg of his seat.

D: “Chilling in my room now, you?”

You responded a minute later in much the same fashion. This photo didn’t show your face either, but he could see your hair and the junction between your neck and shoulder at the top of the photo. You were stretched out on your bed, your legs propped up in front of you and you holding the weight of your upper body on your other arm as you snapped a photo of yourself. From the way your shirt rode up on your thighs, you weren’t wearing any shorts, but he couldn’t see your underwear.

You: “Same. My roommate left to her parents’ house so I have the place to myself.”

Was this your way of implying that you wanted him to come over? How does he respond to that information without sounding weird or letting on that he’d already known? Should he tell you that he already knew? He decided that now was the perfect time to reorganize his desk and actually put up the mirror in his room. It took fifteen minutes for him to respond and the guilt ate at him now that he knew how you reacted when he didn’t message back quickly.

D: “Oh, really? Yeah, I kinda always have my place to myself, haha :)Look what I finally did.”

The added “haha” looked so stupid that he wanted to jump out his window. He hoped the selfie he sent to you would make up for it. He was standing in front of his mirror, acting as if he was only trying to show you the mirror you’d been bugging him about putting up. He was still shirtless and a light sheen of sweat made his body glow slightly from the exertion of his impromptu redecorating. He angled his phone to show a grin, but the rest of his face was covered.

You took a few minutes to respond yourself and Dalton thought he understood your anxiety about having to wait for messages. He felt the anxiety was all the more potent now that you were sending each other photos of yourselves. But he couldn’t deny that he liked the tension, the anticipation ate him up and he was beyond keyed up.

You: “I got bored being here by myself so I’m doing my makeup :p”

You: “Oml, finally!”

You were kneeling in front of the camera with your legs slightly spread. The lighting in your room made it hard for him to see what your underwear looked like and he felt like a pervert for being disappointed. Probably not as bad as he would’ve felt before he knew that you reciprocated his feelings. Your hair was put up into an updo so it was out of your face and it reminded him of that Pamela Anderson hairdo that you complained about not being able to do. You looked beautiful, your makeup was darker than you normally had it, more like dark seduction than pretty fairy. Dalton wondered if that was on purpose.

He sent you a closeup selfie of half of his face, his eyes mostly angled down at the phone screen instead of the actual camera and a slight smirk on his lips. His neck, collarbones and one of his shoulders were on display for you as well

D: “Guess I got bored too. Your hair looks like Pamela Anderson’s, btw”

D: “I like your makeup, it looks good!”

You responded quickly and without a photo.

You: “Are you joking me?! The one time I’m not bending over backwards trying to do it right…”

Dalton had to take a minute to recover from the mental image of you bending over backwards, particularly the image of how your breasts would look at that angle when your next message came in with another photo.

You: “Come over?”

This time, your phone was placed close to the floor and angled up for Dalton to see your knees pulled up to your chest and you dramatically and exaggeratedly pouted at the camera, your dark red lips shining in the camera flash. The flash also, probably unintentionally, highlighted the junction between your legs and he could actually see your panties this time. White lace. Son of a bitch!

Instead of responding, he jumped around his room and tried to gather all of his shit to take to your place and was pulling up his jacket when he noticed some papers on his bed. His homework that he had told Chris about earlier and completely forgot about. It was due at midnight and his teacher was a hardass about homework.

“Fuck!” His curse echoed loudly in his empty and otherwise silent room and he slammed his things down on the bed in anger.

As desperate as he was to go to your room and potentially spend the night inside you, he was stuck inside his dorm unless he wanted his grade to tank. With a heavy heart and tense motions, he sat in his chair, a different one from his stool, and faced his mirror. He spread his legs so that he was man-spreading and propped a leg up on the edge of his bed. He held up his homework in one hand above his head and made a faux-angry face at the camera, his expression not even making at dent when it came to showing just how angry he actually was. He gave himself a minute of fantasizing about your lips kissing marks all over his body before snapping the picture and sending it to you.

D: “I was on my way when I remembered I had homework. Fucking sucks! Raincheck? I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning?”

He ordinarily didn’t curse over text, or in general. He wasn’t a prude about swearing, but he just didn’t feel the need to do it. However, he also needed you to understand that he wasn’t blowing you off, and then he genuinely was upset about not being able to spend the night with you. He felt it was probably too risky sending you a picture where he was very obviously at half-mast and worried that he was being too forward and would make you uncomfortable.

Two minutes of complete agony imagining all of the ways that you would dismiss him and tell him to forget about it, or get angry and misinterpret what he was telling you. Now that the conversation couldn’t go anywhere, the anticipation wasn’t alluring and fun, it felt like acid burning his skin.

You: “Oh, please do your homework! Grades are important. Breakfast sounds good! Goodnight x”

A kiss, you messaged him a kiss. And you were completely fine with it. For the first time in his life, Dalton felt the urge to do a chest bump with a bro. He was on top of the world right now. He was tempted to rush his homework and run over to you as soon as possible, but as soon as he sat down to do it, he knew that the assignment required all of his time and attention. Fortunately, the assignment itself was relatively simple, but it was incredibly time consuming, which is why he’d been putting it off.

Two hours later, he took some pictures of his completed homework and sent them to his professor’s email. It was fifteen minutes til midnight and he wondered if he should risk going over to you now. You weren’t expecting him, though, and for all he knew, you were asleep or something. He debated texting you that he was done and seeing if you’d extend the invitation to come over again, but you hadn’t even brought up his last picture and that made him a bit insecure. What if you were trying to just ignore it as a way to say you weren’t interested? Even back in your room, when your roommate was encouraging you to take advantage of having your dorm to yourself, you had only denied all of her sexual innuendos. He knew you liked him back, but maybe sending you a picture of like the one he sent was too much too fast?

Oh yeah, astral projector. He could always just pop in and check without actually having to check. It was fine the first time, right? No big deal anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He relaxed on his bed and before long, he was picking up that lantern once more and leaving his body behind, making sure that all of his lights were on to protect his body before he left the room.

You had been in your room with your door mostly closed when he came in again. You really should make sure your front door was locked, he thought. He heard little whimpers coming from your room and was immediately concerned, automatically assuming that you were crying. Your bedroom door was swaying on account of the industrial fan that you insisted was the only thing strong enough to keep you cool at night. He had no problem opening your door and putting it back in place, making it look completely natural in case you noticed.

From what he could see, you were looking at your phone and were mostly covered by your blanket. Only one of your hands was holding your phone, which Dalton found odd because you normally preferred using both hands. Finally seeing your face, Dalton noticed that you had no tears on your cheeks or in your eyes. You weren’t crying. What the hell were you looking at on your phone?

Him. You were looking at a picture of Dalton that he’d sent to you. More accurately, you were looking at the second photo he had sent you, the one where he was brushing his teeth. It took Dalton several moments to begin thinking again to put the dots together.

Oh. Oh.

Just as Dalton registered what you were actually doing, you threw your blanket aside in frustration and essentially showed him that he was correct. He watched in rapt fascination as you rubbed your clothed center over your panties with two fingers. You kept focused on your phone, swiping over to the photo of him after he hung up his mirror, as your index fingers slipped beneath your lacy white underwear and into your slick heat. Your breathing was loud and shallow, the occasional moan slipping through as you touched yourself.

Dalton should not be here. He knew that. He knew what was and what wasn’t appropriate, his mom made sure he knew how to respect women, so he knew what he was doing was the furthest thing from okay. He also knew that he would have to be dragged by his teeth to get him out of your room. His cock swelled and twitched from under his shorts as he stood over, watching you masturbate to a picture of him. In the low lighting of your mostly dark room, he could see the shine of your wetness on your fingers and over your folds. He wanted to drag his tongue over your labia and savor every drop you gave him. It was all for him, after all, he was entitled to it.

You groaned in annoyance through your teeth and yanked your panties down your legs. Dalton’s severely dilated gaze zeroed in on them and he made a mental note to grab them before he left when your shirt joined it in the floor. You were completely nude and sitting up on your bed, in a very similar position to the photo where you had shown him your makeup. He’d never look at it again without thinking of this. He wished he had a picture of this.

You looked like a goddess or some kind of celestial siren as you arched your back and groped at one of your breasts and toyed with your clit. The chill of your room and the sudden banishment of your blanket had your flesh covered in goosebumps and your nipples hard. Dalton wanted nothing more than to cover your body with his and discover new forms of pleasure using his tongue, hands and cock. You were everything, you surrounded him and took up so much everything. And yet, he wasn’t actually with you, no matter how much he wished he could be. He didn’t know why he couldn’t try, you were his now. You admitted to it. Maybe not to him directly, and maybe you didn’t know he was there, but it didn’t make it any less true.

Dalton approached your bed and was about to rest his weight on it when you grabbed a decorative throw pillow from the mountain of pillows you had on your bed. You shoved it between your legs and adjusted it so that the woven seams pressed between your folds. You rested your weight on it and rolled your hips experimentally to find a rhythm and angle that felt best. Soon, you were panting and gasping, and Dalton could barely hear you over the stupid fan.

As you rode the pillow, Dalton lost his restraint. He either had to take care of himself now and fully condemn himself as an actual peeping tom and a pervert, or take care of you and risk you freaking out and losing you before he could actually have you. He’d rather hate himself for a little while than you hate him forever. He reached into his shorts, cupping his erection and squeezing lightly. He bit his lips and tried to keep quiet. He didn’t think he would last long, and he didn’t really care to either. He’d worry about that once he was actually inside you.

Dalton started off with slow and trading strokes before working up to the rhythm you set for yourself. You were grinding down on the pillow with slow and long thrusts, lowering your body slightly so that the seam of the pillow rubbed your clit. Dalton imagined his face replacing the pillow and started speeding up the movements of his hand, spitting on himself to help his hand move more fluidly along his shaft. Coincidentally, you started to quicken as well, humping the pillow desperately instead of steadily rolling your hips.

“Dalton! Oh…fuck! Daltonnn…” you cried out softly into the seemingly empty room. As the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, you lost strength in your arms and fell to the mattress, your hips still moving rhythmically as you came. Your limbs felt electrocuted and twitchy, and you could do nothing but gasp and whimper as you came down from your high. Rolling over, you reached down and caressed your soaked folds, moaning softly as your fingers became coated in the stringy remnants of your wetness.

Dalton nearly fell to his knees in his desire to suck your fingers into his mouth and devour your cunt. Luckily, he managed to stay upright and went rigid as he came in his hands, making sure the pearly white spurts of semen didn’t make a mess anywhere in your room, if they could. He wasn’t actually entirely sure how it all worked when he was in this state, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

He waited until you fell asleep to grab your panties and leave your dorm, falling back into his own body and finding it a mess. His shorts were soaked at the crotch with his cum because his actual hands couldn’t stop his real orgasm from staining his clothes. He tore off his shorts and decided to sleep naked, hiding your panties in his pillow case.

*~*~*

You woke up refreshed and well-rested the next morning, still not used to the stillness and quiet in the absence of your roommate, Carla. Usually, she was up by now blaring metal music while she got ready for the day and you would make the two of you breakfast. You went to do just that when you heard a knock at your door and remembered that Dalton was supposed to come over with breakfast.

You told him to wait through a text message and grabbed a pair of athletic shorts, yanking them on as you made your way to let him in. Much to your surprise, the door was unlocked, though you don’t remember leaving it that way. In all fairness, you also don’t remember the last time you had locked it, so it was fair game.

Dalton greeted you with a large smile, showing off his extended canines, and a bag from your favorite pastry shop. It was hard not to blush after what you did when you saw the pictures he sent you, but the food was also distracting. You excitedly took the bag from him and started rifling through it as he guided the both of you to your room. Had he ever been inside your dorm before? How did he know which room was yours?

Before you could ask him, he plopped himself onto your bed and settled onto his stomach. He then used a pillow to prop up his chin. The same pillow you had used last night.

There was something about the way he was smiling at you. The way he was watching you.

“So, did you sleep well last night?”

********

Lemme know if you want a part two or maybe a “What if Dalton hadn’t had any homework?” situation.

This was super fun and sorry if it’s too long

#Spotify #romance #dalton lambert #insidious films #insidious: the red door #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert smut #smut #stalking #pervert!dalton

[bingo6776]

Heyo, here is a Wednesday x autistic!reader. its more so from wednesday’s POV ig? not strictly but yeah. i used alot of my own experiences/feelings, but from readers POV it was slightly harder to have it flow in a way?? idk

not the best, but i havent written in ages and figured i would put something mid out over nothing :))) 

requests are welcome n shit

1.9k 

Wednesday ground her teeth together as she looked at the watch on her wrist.

 1:15 pm.

 You were only 15 minutes late, but for you, that was as good as being hours late.

 Ever since Wednesday had known you, you were always early. No matter what the event was, you’d be there waiting for everyone else to arrive.

 Once, on you weekly coffee dates at the weathervane, she had attempted to get there first. To be the one waiting for you this time.

But, of course, no matter how early she had gotten there, you’d always be waiting at your usual table, with an amused look on your face as you saw her deflate at being beaten, of course, you’d only be more amused at the fake glare she sent you, paired with her worryingly inventive threats of bodily harm and psychological torture.

 So, yes. 15 minutes may not be monumental to the rest of this incompetent school, but for you, it was.

 Wednesday felt her foot tapping lightly, to others it would have looked comical. An impatient Wednesday Addams tapping her foot as the seconds ticked by as if she was in some kind of cartoon.

 Wednesday’s mind was slowly overcome with a never-ending stream of violent occurrences that could have happened to you preventing you from meeting her at the agreed upon time and place.

 If she were anyone else, she would have let them cloud her mind, dull her sharp senses. Yet, luckily for her, she was not.

 Which is why  when Enid passed by the shrouded area Wednesday darted an arm out, aggressively tugging the blonde werewolf into the shadows with her.

 “You have a class with Y/N,” Wednesday decided to ignore the shocked yelp Enid let out, along with the way Enid was barely able to prevent herself from clawing Wednesday away from her. “She’s late meeting with me.”

 Enid shot Wednesday a sympathetic look, she knew the morbid girl would never say such a thing to anyone but you, but you were a vital part of her schedule, you kept her clam. Levelled. Balanced. She cherished any time you spent together. Even though Enid had been witness to numerous die hard romances amongst outcast and normie alike, she had never seen such a pure and unrelenting love that the two of you shared.

 “Oh, uh, yeah. Yoko said she saw some nurse taking her to her dorm earlier, apparently, she got caught in the middle of the change over rush,” Enid grimaced at the thought of being stuck in the throng of teenagers who hadn’t grasped onto the concept of personal space or volume control yet.

 Wednesday hardly waited a second after the werewolf finished her sentence before she turned away, storming towards your dorm.

 ‘And Yoko says I’m a lovesick puppy,’ Enid thought as she rolled her eyes at the brisk departure and returned to her friends.

 To Wednesday, it wasn’t too hard to string together the rest of the events that had occurred.

 She knew you weren’t embarrassed to have autism, no. But, as she herself was autistic, she could understand the struggles of avoiding overstimulation and the prying stares you’d receive in the aftermath.

 Once she reached the dorm, people in the hallway parting to let her through, not wanting to meet the wrath of an obviously determined Addams, she softly tapped at the door.

 One second

Two

Three

Four

 With no reply, she slowly pushed the door open walking into the small gap she created.

 Your room wasn’t dark, yet it wasn’t light either. There was just a soft silver glow coming from the small lamp on your bedside table.

  It illuminated your figure that was curled in on yourself on top of your bed, hands clamped over your ears, eyes screwed shut in a way that Wednesday knew should have been uncomfortable. You were making a consistent, yet urgent sounding hum, more so for the feeling of it vibrating in your chest over having the actual noise.

 And Wednesday felt her heart break. No, no. it was more as if it crumbled. Slowly, but surely, it withered away. She hated seeing you so distressed, so in pain due to the ignorance and downright bone-headed students at Nevermore. She swore that she would kill each and every person who put you in this position, shed ensure that before she pushed them into the black abyss of death that they would experience every torture method known to man and spirit alike.

 No.

 No, she could focus on that later. Now you were more important, much more important.

 Trying not too make too much noise, she walked over to your bed, noticing how your figure rocked back and forth slowly. Once she had come close enough, she simply sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to take notice of the slight dipping of the mattress and how she emerged in your line of sight.

 As your eyes sprang open and focused onto hers, Wednesday truly did try not to flinch at the tears that were held there, the panic that still filled every brim of your body at being pushed and pulled in the crowd, the overlapping conversations feeling as if they had been cutting into your brain, your skin suddenly too hot, too tight.

 Slowly, she raised a hand, moving it at a pace that if at this moment you didn’t want to be touched, you could give her a sign that space was what you needed, but when you didn’t make any such sign she gently laid on top of your arm. The second her cool skin made contact with your own overheating one, you practically launched yourself into her arms.

 Your arms wound your way around her shoulders, burrowing your face into her neck, revelling in the calming scent that filled your space, the darkness that engulfed you as you pushed your face into the crook of her neck.

 “Cara Mia,” Wednesday murmured as her arms tightly wound around your waist, knowing you preferred pressure over light, barely there touches. “What is it you need from me right now, how can I help?”

 You would have given her an in-depth description of the how’s, and the why’s, if it hadn’t felt like your fucking throat had sewn itself shut. The feeling of not being able to talk, not be able to force the words out of your throat without being overcome with discomfort only made more tears spring to your eyes, made you push your face deeper into her neck, trying to get lost in anything over than the fact you felt like your body and mind were becoming so overfilled that you were about to break at the seams.

 Yet, Wednesday was fluent in many languages, luckily she had recently become more than acquainted with your body language.

 She could practically feel the desperation and distress radiating off of your body.

 Not knowing what else she could have done in the moment, she placed a hand o your hair and started slowly running her fingers through it in the way she knows you liked, gently scratching your scalp every now and then.

 “Would you prefer if we were to stay in silence?” she was glad no one was around to hear how sappy and soft she sounded.

 You shook your head, never lifting your head from the safety of Wednesday’s body, enjoying the way her skin was soft, yet had clearly refined muscles lurking beneath the surface. How she smelled of something so indescribable, yet so unbelievably her.

 Laying her head on your own, one hand still working its way through your hair, the other keeping its place at your waist, Wednesday pushed away thoughts about her reputation, or what people may think of the presumed dangerous, murderous Addams being reduced to a pile of mush all for you, and started humming a soft tune instead.

 So what if shed picked up a few of Enid’s softer songs, knowing you and the werewolf had similar tastes. She knew that one day they could come in handy, either from her own mouth or her cello, they’d be useful. Not because she wanted to impress you, no way.

 For an unknown amount of time, Wednesday held you against your body, rocking you both back and forth, never once halting in her movements or her humming.

  To you, it felt like she was a shield against the outside world, protecting you from it. She was your safe space, the one person you knew you could rely on to be there, no matter the circumstance. You hoped you were that for her too.

 Eventually, you felt somewhat better, your body still feeling slightly tense, your muscles aching slightly from not being strained for so long. But still. Better.

 You pulled back from Wednesday slightly, still keeping your arms loosely tied around her shoulders, ignoring the flushed, sticky feeling that coated your cheeks from your tears.

 “I-“ even from the simple letter, your throat closed up, feeling rough from the shallow breathing, not being able to pull much more air into you lungs despite having wanted nothing more than that one big breath that felt like your body was reset. Clearing your throat, you carried on. “I’m sorry. For, you know… this. And being late.”

 Despite your short sentences and the quiet way you uttered the words, Wednesday felt her heart crack again, she was reminded of the way she practically itched to get her hands on the people who mad you feel like this.

 “My love, don’t you dare apologise,” she trailed a finger from your brow, down to your jaw. “You have done nothing wrong. We both know more than most that this is not something you can control. The least those insufferable cretins could have done was be more aware of what they were doing. It’s amusing how they think I’m the intolerant one.”

 You huffed out a soft laughing, your eyes tracing over Wednesday’s face, not settling on one space for too long. You were still astounded to this day that you had been able to win Wednesday’s affections, to have her hold you in such a caring manner without holding a knife against your throat in the next second.

 “Wends, no murder, no maiming. We have a deal, remember? You leave at least half of the school alive, and you get to carry that ancient mace around with you.”

 “It’s not much of a deal, Y/N. You wouldn’t be able to pry the mace from my dead hands, I can do as I please and murder who I please. Regardless of whether you think it’s polite, or not.”

 At that you only quirked a brow at her, all you would have to do was say please and shed give you the world, shed burn it to the ground to watch you smile, or nurture it with a gentleness she had buried long ago. Until you. Still, whichever you pleased. She’d prefer the burning, but that’s irrelevant, watching as she rolled her eyes and grumbled some half-hearted excuse.

 “Irrelevant, my love. We are focusing on you, and what you need. Would you like to watch one of those inane movies you like? The ones that are a disgrace to every cinematic piece ever made?”

 Not having the energy to delve into how ‘Shrek’ was a masterpiece in its own right, you only nod gently.

 Tugging the gothic girl to lay down beside you, with your head resting on her shoulder as she pulled your laptop from your bedside table, already knowing how to load the movie due to the “innumerable amount of times” you had forced Wednesday “to watch such a pathetic excuse for entertainment.”

 You knew she’d say she hated it, but you didn’t miss the way her lips tugged up slightly when Donkey was petrified for whatever reason throughout the movie.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega #autistic!reader #reader

[coraniaid]

You said a few days ago that you would have liked if season 7 went more in the direction of Help rather than the direction of the First. I know you're not a big fan of the First but I was wondering what you meant by that specifically, and what kind of direction you might have preferred season 7 go in overall?

I don’t have any good reason to think it actually happened, but I always get the impression from watching or thinking about Season 7 that the early plans for the season changed pretty significantly at some point after most of the first few episodes had already been written.  (Perhaps when they decided that it would also be the last season?  I’ve heard conflicting accounts of when that decision was made.)

If you go back and look at the then-contemporary discussions of the show, the whole season was initially marketed as something of a ‘year zero’: a return to the show’s high school era roots, to something much more upbeat than Season 6, to the original Scooby Gang as the focus of the show.  

And just to be clear, I rather like Season 6 – it doesn’t always work, and I think some of the subplots are pretty dreadfully executed, and sometimes I respect the episodes more than I enjoy watching them – but it inarguably has a clear vision for the story it’s trying to tell, one that builds on and recontextualizes what came before it.  But for the payoff for that season to land, we needed Season 7 to be different.  To be less cynical, more hopeful.  It needed to show us that Buffy was right to promise Dawn in Grave that things were going to get better.  

And that sort of reset is what we got … for about half a dozen episodes.  Then, of course, it goes rather horribly wrong.

I like Help in particular because it is, for me, the closest the show ever gets to delivering on that promise of a return to the high school era.  It’s not quite a regression or a soft reboot: Buffy is still an adult with a job, even if she’s suddenly unexpectedly back in high school.  Her more mundane responsibilities haven’t suddenly gone away. But now the job she has isn’t something she hates but has to do – it’s something that she actually has a calling for, almost literally, something that harks back to her getting the Class Protector award back in Season 3.   In Help Buffy’s inhabiting the same world she did in the first three seasons, she’s still trying to save people, but this time with a new, more experienced perspective. 

The episode feels very aware of the show’s history, too.  There are nods to Lie To Me (a teenager Buffy knows is going to die because of illness, not anything supernatural Buffy can stop) and Reptile Boy (the cult trying to sacrifice a teenage girl to a demon for material riches) and Beauty and the Beasts (with Buffy herself taking on the role of Mr Platt, worried that Mike is going to turn out to be another Pete), and of course the whole episode is a callback to Prophecy Girl.  Because Cassie – probably the show’s last great one-episode character (and yes, the actor comes back later but the person doesn’t) – isn’t just somebody Buffy is trying to save, she is Buffy: a Season 1 Buffy who struggles to make friends and has a supernatural gift she doesn’t like to talk about and knows she’s going to die heartbreakingly young.  I don’t think it’s merely chance that Cassie’s big speech to Buffy about her destiny (“You think I want this?  You think I don’t care?”) echoes Buffy’s own words to her mother in Becoming either (“You think I choose to be like this?”).

Plus, while the episode ties into the wider story arc – with Spike in the basement and hints that Principal Wood might be up to something and our first appearance of future Potential Amanda – the whole thing still tells a coherent, self-contained story.  It stands on its own right; it makes sense on its own terms.  it’s not just another installment in the long running saga of General Buffy and the friends she never talks to who later kick her out of the house she owns.

And I think there was a lot more ground there to explore, in the same vein as Help.  At least a full season’s worth.  There was so much more the show could have tried to do in terms of going back and revisiting some of the classic moments of the first three seasons from a more mature and more grown-up perspective, instead of summarily kicking Buffy out of her new job and then blowing the school up (again).  If this season is about the future – about new Slayers being called, one way or another – then what does that mean?  How else are Buffy and Willow and Xander engaged in the challenge of trying to pass on what they’ve learned about life on the Hellmouth to a new generation?  

At its best, Buffy has always been in conversation with its past, building on ideas that were touched on in one season and asking the audience to think about them again from a different angle.  And the beginning of Season 7 sets up the perfect stage to try to do more of that.

I’d have loved to have seen a whole season of Buffy trying to keep her students alive while also preparing them to go out and live in the world.  Of Dawn making new friends and finding value in being herself, not just the Slayer’s sister or the mystical Key.  Of Buffy and Willow and Xander really getting to know each other again, and having a chance to talk about everything that happened to them last year.  A whole season of, in a way, seeing the show from the very beginning, but this time from the perspective of people like Giles or Jenny or Joyce.

But instead we got a lot of boring wank about an impossibly old super-god who can’t actually touch anything (but one who Buffy would definitely let Dawn die to defeat because this godlike being is so much more impressive and scary than Glory, trust us guys, please, we swear) and her army of interchangeable and personality-free super vampires (and of course Caleb, who’s somehow even more mind-numbingly boring than they are).  Instead we get a second half of the season in which Andrew Wells has more screen time than Willow or Xander or Anya or Giles or Dawn.  Instead we get to wonder whether Giles is the First and try to pretend to care that Spike has been hypnotized.  Instead we get Lies My Parents Told Me.

Oh well.  At least Faith shows up near the end.

#btvs #asks #thanks!

[oh-stars]

All is Well

Lost

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 1,199 words | CW: lonliness | Rating: T

--

College sucks. 

There. She said it. It sucks. 

Growing up, Robin felt like college was her promise land. She could go to any school, learn anything, and have the freedom to be the person she wanted to be. She’d always struggled with the social aspect of school, finding a few good friends here and there to get her through classes but nothing that lasted. No one wanted to hang out on the weekends or sleepover – it was only ever for her birthday or super rare occasions. And when she was extra lonely or the girls at school were a little mean, her mother would always remind her that she’d find her people in college. 

Well, she’s here now and everyone sucks. 

That’s not exactly fair, she knows. Her roommates are decent. They clean up after themselves and every now and then, they’ll all grab breakfast together before class. It’s just clear that Robin’s the odd one out. She’s the one who isn’t clicking with the rest of them for no other reason than they just don’t work. And there are a few people from her German class last semester that she really liked, who still say hello and reach out if they have similar classes to study together. 

It’s just… tough to come back to, is all. 

The first semester felt impossible. She was all alone, with new people and no one that understood her on any level. She’d met a few lesbians, gone on a few dates, and it’s been incredible to connect with people in an aspect of her life that’s been so closed off for forever. Steve and Eddie may be together, they may understand, but they’re not lesbians. And even if she’s finally finding a community that understands her sexuality, she’s still stuck up here without anyone who understands her. 

Fine! There’s no Steve here. Happy? 

Sometimes, when she’s struggling to breathe after a nightmare, she wonders if the Russians somehow swapped out one of her lungs for his because she can never breathe without him around. It would make sense that she would need to be around her old lung, around him, to breathe the right way again. She misses him with every fiber in her being. 

The first semester was hard enough, but coming back after a month of uninterrupted Steve time? Where they spent the entire winter vacation attached at the hip? 

It kind of makes her want to curl up and die, if she’s honest. Just to stop the pain. 

Okay, she’s being dramatic. All that time with Steve meant she had to see Eddie and she’s pretty sure she absorbed some of his dramatics over the past few weeks. 

Robin checks the watch Eddie got for her, one that matches the new one he bought Steve, and sees she’s nearly late for her pre-calculus class. Shit. She doubles down on her speed walking and books it to Chapman Hall. 

The lecture hall is packed with students. It’s the first day back, so she’s not exactly surprised, but she really didn’t expect an early morning Tuesday class to be completely filled. There’s nowhere to sit other than by the windows and Robin can’t sit by the windows, she gets too distracted by the birds and squirrels (people she can zone out, but animals? They demand her attention, thank you). 

She kind of wants to cry. It’s just all too much all of a sudden and she doesn’t feel like the strong, capable woman she tries to be. She’s fought Russians and monsters and government agents, yet finding a seat in class is going to be her downfall. 

Maybe she should just run out of here, find the nearest bus station, and head back to Hawkins. She doesn’t need a fancy piece of paper to succeed in life. She just needs Steve. 

“Are you okay?” a girl asks, hugging her books close to her chest. 

Robin’s standing in the middle of the entry, blocking other students from slipping in behind her. She nods to the girl and slides to the left, away from the door, before she peers back up–

“Robin!” 

She’s hearing things. She has to be. 

A whistle sounds off, the one that could get her attention anywhere at any time. The one that has her heart racing and tears building in her eyes because that’s the sound of her soulmate calling out to her, bringing her back to safety. 

That’s Steve’s whistle. 

With the rest of the class, Robin follows the noise to see Steve waving at her, a few rows up and on the edge of the aisle, safely away from any windows. 

She runs up the stairs and into his arms before she can take another breath without him. “I missed you,” she says into his shoulder as she hugs him tight, her bookbag dropped in the process. 

Steve squeezes her back just as tight. “Missed you too,” he says. “I don’t know how to do shit without you, Rob,” he admits softly. 

Robin only pulls away when someone shuffles by them. She swipes at her eyes and only then does she realize where they are, that she’s getting ready to learn pre-cal and Steve’s just… here? And with books? 

He sits down, motioning for her to sit with him.

She does, her brow furrowed as she settles in. 

Steve’s smile turns both mischievous and shy in a way she rarely sees. She knows he’s trying to hide behind the surprise, that whatever the reason is, this is big for him. “I’m, uh, auditing the class,” he says as a blush rises up his neck. 

“Really?” Robin asks, scooting closer. She takes in the notebook and supplies he has set up in front of him, calculator ready to go. Ah! He’s really doing this! Robin has to bite her cheek as she gets her own things set up and ready, especially with the professor walks in to set up. 

“Just this one,” he continues. “But I am an official student as of today.” 

“What about–” 

“We got a place off campus,” Steve says, the smirk back in full swing. “Eddie’s been moving us in for the last month–” 

Robin swats at his arm with the back of her hand. “Is that where your bookshelf went?” 

Steve’s grin gets bigger. “It’s a two bedroom.” He lowers his head. “If you ever wanted to ditch the mean girls.” 

“They’re not mean–” 

“Dude, they purposefully ignored you. They’re mean girls.” 

Robin rolls her eyes as she picks up her pencil. “My last class is at–”

“Four, I know. I memorized your schedule,” Steve says. “I tried to get ours to align as much as possible.” 

“That’s creepy,” Robin says even though her smile is too big to hide. 

“What can I say?” Steve shrugs. “I’d be lost without you.” 

She gags. “Ew. Did you steal that from Eddie? It’s got his particular stench of cheesy, emotional one-liners all over it.” 

Steve’s laugh is too loud, especially when she joins in. But as they calm down, taking deep breaths and avoiding eye contact to stop their giggles, Robin feels her chest expand and take in all the air she can.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #ohstars posting challenge #stobin month 2024 #stobin