#final day! don’t forget to vote!
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Whumptober 2023
Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!
COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE
To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!
Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.
This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.
And this years playlist can be found here.
There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!
We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!
Best of luck and happy whumping,
Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro
(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)
Whumptober 2023 Prompt List
No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”
Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”
No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”
Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”
No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”
Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”
No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”
Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”
No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”
Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”
No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”
Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”
No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”
Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”
No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”
Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”
No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”
Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”
No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”
Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”
No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”
Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”
No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”
Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”
No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”
Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”
No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”
Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”
No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”
Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”
No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”
Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”
No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”
Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”
No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”
Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”
No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”
Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”
Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”
No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”
Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”
No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”
Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”
No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”
Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”
No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”
Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”
No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”
Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”
No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”
Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”
No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”
Matches | Scars | “Let me see”
No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”
Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”
No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”
Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”
No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”
Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”
No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”
Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”
Alternatives List:
Betrayal
Aftermath of Failure
Brass Knuckles
Decoy
Body Modification
Playing Cards
Examination
Hunting
Drugging
Shaking
Panic
Broken
Miscommunication
Lab Rat
Reluctant Whumper
Event Info & Rules
~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~
WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.
The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!
In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.
Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.
When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:
#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)
#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)
#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)
#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)
#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)
#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )
#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)
#your own tags go here
PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]
Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.
Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.
Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?
You can create something based on:
The overall theme/lyric of the day
Prompt 1, 2 or 3
One or several of the alternative prompts
A combination of the above
Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?
When in doubt: JUST DO IT!
Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?
Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.
Q. Can I post early/late?
Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.
Q. Will you reblog my post?
Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:
tag your post properly
post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.
Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?
Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.
Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?
This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.
Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?
Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.
Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?
Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.
Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?
Yes.
Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?
If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.
Q. What kind of characters can I write for?
Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.
Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?
No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.
Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?
Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.
Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?
No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.
Q. Where can I post my work?
Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.
Q. Can I start posting early?
You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.
Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?
Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.
Q. Is co-writing allowed?
Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.
Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?
One continuous story is fine. The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)
Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?
There is no limit.
Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?
No limit and combine as many as you’d like.
Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?
Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.
Q. What’s considered nsfw?
See this post
Q. What is whump?
Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.
Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?
If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.
Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?
Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!
Q. How do I tag triggers?
tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw
Q. Do I have to use your tags?
Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.
Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?
Yes
Q. Can we @ you?
Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.
Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?
There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).
Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?
Here on Discord or come into our ask box.
Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?
Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.
Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?
Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.
Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).
Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!
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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You
Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.
Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy
A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!
Word count: ~4.8k
Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.
It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.
What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.
Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.
Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach.
Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.
Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?
Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.
You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.
Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments.
Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body.
His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.
But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.
The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.
Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare.
Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.
Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.
Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.
When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.
The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.
Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?
The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it.
Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.
__
He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.
One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.
Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.
The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.
He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”
Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.
You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.
It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.
Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.
This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…
But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away.
It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.
Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.
__
Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress.
Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”
You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”
Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.
The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.
It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.
The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.
Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?”
“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”
“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”
“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.
“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle.
Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.
The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”
Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.
“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.
Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”
The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.
It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”
The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”
You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”
What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”
Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”
“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.
Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”
Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”
“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears.
Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.
So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”
You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.
Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”
The breath leaves him.
"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for.
In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”
“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.
Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”
"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."
Huh.
The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.
__
That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.
Gods, he's worried about him.
After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.
He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.
They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.
Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.
Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.
So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.
Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.
When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.
But he had.
And you'd not forced him to do so.
You'd not forced him to do anything.
They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.
But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks.
Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered–
It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.
The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.
You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent.
Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.
You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.
They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.
His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.
The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…
Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?
Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.
And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.
Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–
Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.
Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?
Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.
Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?
But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.
Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.
He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.
Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?
But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…
“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.
“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.
“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…
“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.
“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.
Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.
No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.
But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”
If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.
__
The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours.
No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–
Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose…
Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.
But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you.
All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…
You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?
Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.
Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.
The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.
Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.
Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.
Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”
He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.
You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”
Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.
No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–
He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.
Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?
So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.
“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”
Later, I will tell them. Everything.
#astarion#astarion x tav#fanfic#astarion fic#astarion x reader#rogue + rogue#astarion fanfiction#astarion fanfic#astarion fluff#astarion x gn reader#astarion x gn!tav#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion pov#astarion is bad at feelings#astarion feelings realization
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hello hello! froggi i have something rotting my brain and i would love to hear your thoughts on it, but by no means is this something you have to answer!
how do you think gojo satoru and nanami kento (and anyone else you'd like to include!) would feel about having someone pack lunches for them? like real, thought out, balanced lunches in nice containers and thermoses with little drinks and maybe notes
i can already see the confused first years, yuji and nobara gossiping about whether they're dating someone and megumi being weirded out gojo isnt just buying something like the rich boy he is
Sack Lunch - Satoru Gojo, Nanami Kento & Suguru Geto
Pairing(s): Satoru Gojo x gn! reader, Nanami Kento x gn! reader, Suguru Geto x gn! reader
Genre: fluff!
Word Count: 667 (Gojo's), 685 (Nanami's), 680 (Suguru's)
Summary: a day in your s/o's life when you pack a lunch for him
CW: established relationships!, jokes about dying/being widowed (Gojo's--though they are not necessarily married), lots of cutesy stuff, Gojo acts like a child
anon you are the first person ever to call me froggi (and i kinda love it omg)!! i have not answered a request/ask in a hot minute, but this one was too cute to pass up! not sure if you wanted headcanons for this or not, but i got really carried away :') hope this is what you wanted! also i really feel strongly about Gojo having a 90s lunchbox collection that he is very proud of!
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also!! the Valentine's Poll is open if you guys have any ideas of what you want for our Valentine's event this year!! you can vote here
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also thank you @l0serloki for helping me with writing nanami!!
Satoru Gojo:
“Satoru!” You shake your head at the man as he slinks past the kitchen.
He pops his head in, white hair falling over his eyes. “Yes?”
“Don’t forget your lunch.”
“You made me lunch?” He coos, surging forward to pinch your cheek, “you’re so cute.”
You roll your eyes. “No one should spend as much money on food as you do.” You chastise. “And I want to make sure you don’t only eat sweets today. I can’t have you dying on me at 30.”
“Pft, I’m gonna live forever!”
You shove the metallic Sailor Moon lunchbox into his hands. “Keep eating what I make you and you just might.”
“Aw, baby,” he practically sings, “look at you, trying to take care of me.”
He playfully ruffles your hair, but upon seeing your scowl, drags his hand down to your waist. He leans in and presses a sloppy, needy kiss to your lips. You stand on your toes just to kiss him back, rubbing your hands up and down his back.
He pulls away blushing, lunchbox in hand. “I’ll see you later! Love you lots!”
You wave to him as he heads out the door, “love you too!”
Even when he gets out to his car, the grin on his face doesn’t fade. He might have teased you a little, but only because he was so honoured that you even thought to pack him a lunch. The cute Sailor Moon lunch box that totally isn’t his is only the icing on the cake.
—
Nobara and Yuji stare at Gojo in disbelief. The man has his feet propped up on his desk, whistling a song as he peels a mandarin. A mandarin. The sight of their teacher eating an actual, real fruit is jarring.
Yuji elbows Nobara gently, “has Gojo-sensei finally lost it?”
“He must have, have you ever seen him eat real food before?”
Gojo rolls his eyes behind his blindfold, popping a slice of the orange into his mouth. He listens to his first years gossip about him as he makes his way through the lunch you packed. You really outdid yourself with this one, he has to admit.
It’s all of the foods he likes, cutely displayed in pink containers that match the glittery exterior of the lunch box. You even packed him strawberry mochi, homemade and neatly bundled. There’s a note in there, too.
Please eat all your fruits and veggies, I don’t want to be a widow.
Lots of love!
Y/n
Gojo stifles his laughter at your note, but he can’t stop the flush that creeps up to his blindfold. Not only did you pack him a lunch, you wrote him a note. He can’t wait to come home to you and tell you how much he loves you.
It’s when Gojo gets up to use the bathroom that Yuji makes a mad dash to peek in his lunch box. “Sailor Moon?!”
Nobara leaps to her feet, joining Itadori at the desk. “There’s a note, look.”
Fushiguro sits at his desk, softly chewing on the sandwich that you also made for him this morning. He shakes his head at his nosy peers, wondering why they care so much about their ridiculous teacher’s life.
“From y/n?!” They cry out in unison.
“Did he steal this from someone?!” Nobara exclaims.
“Did he do something to y/n’s boyfriend?!”
The pair share their conspiracies on just how Gojo ended up with a homemade lunch and a handwritten note from you, oblivious to the way Megumi snickers at them in the back.
Finally, he can’t take it anymore. “They’re together.”
Their eyes practically pop out. “They are?!”
“Yep,” Gojo leans against the door to the classroom, smirking at his students.
“And it’s…like that?” Yuji asks quietly.
“It’s like that.” Gojo raises his eyebrows for emphasis.
All three First Years cringe, groans filling the room. Gojo smiles proudly though, already figuring out how he’s going to tell this story to you when he comes home to you.
-
Kento Nanami:
Nanami’s cheeks tinge pink as he makes his way to the door and sees you standing there. There’s a massive grin on your face and you’re holding a grey lunchbox in one hand and a coffee thermos in the other. Despite this being an everyday occurance, Nanami still isn’t used to it.
“I packed your lunch.”
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, grabbing the items from your hands. He sets them on the small table just next to the door to free up his hands before immediately wrapping them around your waist. He caresses your sides gently, almost as gently as he kisses you—trying to show all his gratitude and love for you with a single gesture.
You’re flustered when he pulls away, straightening out your clothes while you find your breath once more. You watch Nanami as he grabs his lunch and coffee from the table and pulls his keys out of his pocket, clicking open the lock on the front door.
“Oh!” You call to him just before he steps out. “There’s some extra snacks in there, just in case Yuji wants them!”
His dark eyes fill with admiration, his face falling into that soft look he saves for those closest to him. “You really are the greatest.”
You giggle, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says. “Have a great day today, dear.”
“I will!” You wave at him from the door as he walks to his car. “Oh! And please don’t forget the cutlery at work again!”
“Will do!” His words are punctuated by the closing of his car door followed by the roar of the engine.
You shut the door but the grin doesn’t fall from your face. These mornings are always a highlight for you.
—
Nanami is exhausted by the time he makes it to his lunch hour. Him and Yuji had been running around all afternoon chasing some low grade curse. The second his watch beeped to indicate lunch time, Nanami was already headed to the crosswalk to head to the park across the street, Itadori in tow.
It’s a beautiful day out, the warm sun heating the wood of the park bench just enough to keep it comfortable. He has his most recent novel open on his lap, his lunchbox on the seat next to him. Yuji sits on the other side of his lunch, happily snacking on the extra things you packed for him.
“Y/n really is the best, Nanamin.” He says through a mouthful of food, “packing you all these snacks and keeping you healthy.”
Nanami offers the boy a half grin, though he’s tempted to remind him of his table manners and how rude it is to talk with food in his mouth. He takes a sip of the coffee in his thermos—still warm from this morning—and relaxes farther into the bench. You always make it just the way he likes it, no sugar and hardly any cream.
He reaches a hand into his lunchbox to grab the small container of carrot slices when his fingers graze something else. He closes his novel and leans over to examine the paper he’s just grabbed.
Hope you’re having a great lunch today, honey. Made with love
To the moon and back,
Y/n
He tries to hide his widening grin and reddening cheeks by pretending to cough into his arm, but only succeeds in drawing more attention to his flustered state.
“Are you okay?”
Nanami nods, catching his breath from his fake cough. The heat starts to fade from his face. He pulls his head out of his elbow and turns to address the boy, only for his eyes to widen in horror as he realizes the First Year is clutching the note that was just in his hand.
“Woah,” Yuji’s eyes widen. “It’s like that? You really are lucky, Nanamin.”
Nanami breathes a sigh of relief, glad it was Yuji that found the note and not Nobara or Gojo. Had they found it, he would never hear the end of it.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I am lucky.”
-
Suguru Geto:
Suguru is shocked when he sees you waiting for him by the door with a small, black bag in your hand. He tilts his head at you when your eyes meet his, as if asking you what you’re doing.
“I threw together a couple of things,” you explain. “For lunch.”
He’s never been cared for like this, never had anyone to pack him a lunch. A million thoughts cross his mind. Thank you, you’re the best, how’d I get so lucky? Of course, none of that comes out.
Instead, he utters a simple, “...why?”
He cringes at the sound of his own voice, bracing himself for you to be disappointed. Luckily, you don’t offend easily and your smile never wavers.
“Well, you were complaining about Satoru only ever wanting to go to sweet shops—and that you were sick of eating lunch alone, so…”
You look down to his hands, suddenly too embarrassed to face him. It felt like a great idea at the moment, but the longer Geto looks at you, the dorkier the idea feels.
Geto closes the gap between you, grabbing your hand from under the lunch box handle. “Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips, tugging you closer so he can taste you better.
Relief floods through you at his words of gratitude. You lean into the kiss, relishing in the way he feels against you.
“I really do love you, you know?” He says softly when he pulls away, the bag now hanging from his hand.
“I know.”
He looks at you expectantly, giving you the same look he does when you’re acting like a dork or giving him attitude.
“I love you too, Suguru. Now get going! I don’t want you to be late.”
He offers you a small wave before he heads out the door, wondering exactly how he’ll return the favor when he gets home.
—
Satoru stares at Suguru from across the table in the teachers lounge. Even with the blindfold on, Geto can tell the man is eyeing the food he has spread out in front of him.
Gojo raises a finger, about to open his mouth.
“Not a word, Satoru.”
His best friend chuckles, dropping his hands in surrender, and goes back to eating his pastries out of a cute pink box. Geto goes back to his own lunch. Though you claimed you just ‘threw together a few things’, he knows that’s far from the truth.
It must have taken you an hour to prepare it all, at minimum. Not only did you make his favorite meal, but you also packed him steamed, honey coated carrots, a slice of homemade banana bread, and a small thermos of his favorite roasted rice tea.
He pops open the lid of the thermos to smell it, the familiar toasty aroma filling his senses. It smells like home—like the nights where he can’t sleep and you bring him a cup of it mixed with sweet honey.
“What’s this?” Satoru snatches the lid from the desk, flipping it upside down and letting a small piece of stationary fall out.
Suguru groans, reaching desperately across the desk for the lid, only for Satoru’s jaw to fall open. He lets the paper float back down to the desk.
“What?” He demands.
Gojo offers him a teasing grin. “Y/n and Suguru, sitting in a tree….”
Geto scowls and grabs the note before Gojo can pick it up and tease him more. Any annoyance he was feeling at the fellow special grade fades away when he sees your handwriting scrawled across the paper.
Hope Satoru doesn’t give you too much trouble today. I love you so much, can’t wait to hear about your day when you get back
All the stars in the sky,
Y/n
Satoru must not see the way Suguru’s cheeks redden at the sight of the note—or if he does, he doesn’t say anything about it. Though he teases, he couldn’t be any happier for his friend as he watches him read the words on the note over and over, a growing smile on his face.
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masterlist | jjk masterlist
#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami#nanami jjk#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#geto x reader#x you#x reader
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Right time (preview)
⤷ part of the timing series
⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader
⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut
⏤ rating: 18+
⏤ words: 1,055
⏤ summary: following your reunion with jungkook, getting back together seems to be the right thing to do however everything is different. jungkook is a father, running the company you’re working for, and there are still things to be solved. nonetheless, it can’t erase the tremendous physical attraction between you. is it now the right or wrong time?
⏤ author’s note: thanks all for waiting for this little preview & thanks as well for voting! here you have it & hopefully, very very soon right time will be all yours. as you can notice, the banner changed & I also hope you like it ☺️ don't hesitate to let me know what you think of this little preview, thanks for reading 💞
To say that Jungkook was nervous was an understatement. He’s going out on a date with you. He’s literally screaming on the inside like a 5-year-old that finally got the candy they were asking for. He’s been waiting for this for years and also, he hasn’t been on a proper date in a while. But he’s very much excited.
“Hi,” you say as you step outside of the apartment complex.
A bright smile appears on both of your faces when you see each other. Honestly, having had sex a couple of days ago brought some happiness to your lives. You’ve been feeling more alive than ever, and nothing can erase that feeling. Well, at least, that’s what you thought.
There are still things left to discuss but right now, you’re both on cloud 9 so you don’t feel the necessity to talk. You simply want to stay in your little cloud a little longer which means that you’ll do everything to stay there.
“Hi, yn,” Jungkook offers you the bouquet he’s holding in his hands.
“Thanks for the flowers,” you reply as you take the bouquet.
Your eyes move from Jungkook to the flower arrangement, it’s a very pretty one. This kind of surprises you since Jungkook never bought you flowers when you dated before but you have to forget about the past. Things are different now as you both are very different people today.
“Arya helped me choose them,” the smile on his face grows bigger while remembering being in the flower shop with her.
At first, he was planning to go alone to buy you flowers but then, he was spending the day with his daughter so he brought her up to have her little opinion. Now, she’s staying at her mama’s place for the 3 upcoming days. Jungkook hasn’t mentioned anything about you to Eunji yet but for sure, Arya will mention the bouquet to her mother so he’s very much aware that he’ll have to at least explain something to Eunji.
“Well, you both have good taste in flowers,” you quickly smell the beautiful bouquet.
“She’s my daughter so she definitely has good tastes,” he instantaneously answers.
A little laugh leaves your lips at his words. That’s easy to say when it’s your own daughter, you think but his words also warm your heart. It’s so sweet that he let his daughter assist him in choosing a bouquet of flowers for you. And it’s also extremely sweet how he speaks about her.
“Your tastes can be very much questionable,” you tease him.
With surprise, he raises an eyebrow. He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear you say those words but he’s undeniably liking being teased by the woman he loves deeply.
“If mines are questionable, then yours are dubious,” he doesn’t hesitate to reply, “especially your taste in men,” he adds.
“For sure, it is because I’m still wondering how on earth I could have fallen for you,” you end up laughing.
But the truth is how you could have not fallen for him. It’s easy to love him, and it feels even easier to be loved by this man. There are for sure many things to say about your love for him but it’d take you probably days or weeks or even more to list all the reasons you fell hard for him.
“That’s exactly what I was referring to,” he adds. “Not sure how you fell for me, especially back then.”
Hearing him saying that inevitably breaks your heart, even if he’s joking. For sure, back then, he wasn’t the best person on earth, he was a fuckboy after all. He was very much known on the campus for being the guy who fucks every girl he meets, and for being a heartbreaker. But he was perfect for you. Beyond that image of fuckboy, he was the sweetest guy you had ever met.
“Don’t say that,” you gently slap him on the arm.
“I’m serious, I don’t know what you saw in me when we started dating,” his stare becomes quite sincere.
Now, your heart is very much broken by his words. This man doesn’t even see how pretty and amazing he is. But beyond that, he’s without any doubt the most brilliant person you’ve ever met. Even back then, what charmed you was his mind and heart. It was never about his looks because if it was for that, you wouldn’t have approached him at all. He was a fuckboy, the kind of guy that you hated.
“I saw your heart underneath all those walls,” you say before placing your hand on his chest, right above his heart.
Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. He can’t even express what he’s feeling right now but he’s absolutely sure of one thing, he feels lucky to be with you here and now. His hand caresses yours, both of you with a little smile on your faces. This moment is undeniably heartwarming for the two of you.
“But you were the only person that I let in,” he whispers. “You’re the only one that got to see who I truly was.”
At his words, you inevitably squeeze him in your arms for a tight hug, your head pressed against his chest. It surprises him but he holds you back. While hugging you, it reminds him just how much he missed it. When you were together, you used to hug each other a lot. It brought a lot of peace to the two of you, it was a moment where everything would disappear for an instant. It was a moment of pure happiness.
Just as it is right now.
None of you want this moment to end. This feels extremely good. You hold him even tighter in your arms, you don’t desire to let go of him. You close your eyes to enjoy this moment even more. This is something you also missed deeply. Well, to be honest, you deeply missed Jungkook. Maybe more than you’ll ever admit.
“I love this,” you whisper very low. Jungkook hears it and can’t help but smile even more. He doesn’t say anything, he’s simply enjoying this moment with you. Hopefully, this won’t be a one-time thing. He’s hopeful that you’ll get to do this more often. Because a hug always heals a heart.
#bts#bts imagine#bts imagines#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook imagine#bts angst#jungkook angst#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#right time#preview#timing series#spideyjimin
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☆ TXT AND THINGS THEY DO WHEN THEIR PARTNER IS A FIRST GRADE TEACHER
pairing: txt x f!reader
genre: hcs/scenarios, fluff, established relationship
a/n: requested by anon! song rec - fairy by dvwm.. thank u coco @enluv for helping me out and being my partner in crime ily ^^
back to masterlist!
☆ YEONJUN
gives you stickers he gets as freebies in his packages. Yeonjun is a sucker for a good pair of jeans, a heavy leather jacket and some silver accessories to top it off. The thing is, being fresh out of university and moving out of the dorms into a small studio is quite a problem when you’re a clothes fanatic such as yeonjun. So, to earn some money beside his job and keep his closet in order, he opens an account on some popular secondhand online shops. Yeonjun likes showing off his new finds to you, excitedly telling you about the deal he managed to get, how happy he is to finally get his hands on said item and upon seeing your soft smile, kissing you on the temple and whispering how he’ll make sure you two match. Sometimes, the package includes freebies, mainly stickers, which he immediately sets aside for you– you and your students would love this, he thinks. Yeonjun sells clothes too though, and you find it particularly endearing how he refuses to reuse any of the stickers as freebies, because they are yours, like he always claims.
☆ SOOBIN
buys the food for the classroom's pet. Soobin used to work at a pet store in his first year of university to be able to afford his own car. The pet store was also the place where you both bumped into each other for the first time, and where you ended up sharing your first kiss after you decided to swing by to check in on him. So in short, the pet store in between the old dinner and newly-renovated 7-11 meant a lot to the both of you. Years had passed and now you both only stepped foot in the store a few times a year, just enough to not forget the workers’ faces and see the new animals come in. The next time your boyfriend visited the pet store was exactly a few days after your principal allowed your class to get a classroom pet– a cute hamster whose name was Snickers, voted by your students. The owner of the store welcomed Soobin with a wide grin and a pat on the back, even offering him a discount on the hamster food you had begged him to get since you’d forget (he acted like you owed him but in reality, it was on his way to work and he could never resist your pretty pout). It would become part of your routine, your boyfriend buying Snickers’ food when needed and you accompanying him on the weekends, staring at the cute animals with joy while the store owner and his old boss teased him about the heart eyes he’d send you. Ah, young love, he’d say, laugh resonating through the store.
☆ BEOMGYU
sharpens the classroom's pencils for you every friday. Beomgyu’s week is usually always booked– when he isn’t studying or working, he’s playing the guitar and meeting up with friends and family. That doesn’t mean though that you aren’t spending any time together, but more often than not your dates or “quality time” moments are are the end of the week (he once claimed he likes it because he enjoys ending his week on a good note– tsk, what a romantic). He hasn’t outright told you that he likes the comforting silence when you’re both sitting in the living room, cozying up together and doing your own things, but the way he shyly nods when you pat the space next to you on the couch every time is proof. Sometimes Beomgyu just needs life to be a bit more peaceful, and sharpening all your classroom’s pencils while you grade your students’ papers next to him is exactly fulfilling that need. Once in awhile too, if he’s free, he will walk into your empty classroom with a grin as you do your “typical end-of-the-day teacher things”, ready to pick up every single pencil off the floor and from under the desks, just so you don’t have to collect them and you can go home, together.
☆ TAEHYUN
helps you paint your monthly and seasonal banners for your classroom. Taehyun isn’t a very artistic person– younger, he’d more the type to clumsily spread different colors of paint over the canvas, turning the stunning colors in a brown mess– but he fails to help you out if you’re feeling even the slightest bit out of inspiration. Truly, you had been planning and working on these banners for your classroom for months and to say you were getting tired at the unaesthetically pleasing sight in front of you was an understatement. The only banner you were missing was the one for fall but every time you tried to paint out a beautiful scenery with trees and fallen leaves, the dark colors only made you want to bury yourself six feet under. Only one call of your boyfriend’s name was needed for him to come running to your rescue, taking a pause to look at your “art” before stiffing his laughter and settling next to your on the ground. It wasn’t long before Taehyun had filled the banner with mushrooms and squirrels, brushing paint on the fabric carefully. He was proud of his artwork at the end and you could only smile, thanking him with a kiss and a promise to show his work off. When the next Monday came, you couldn’t help but snap a photo at all your students admiring the new banner, scooting closer to it to take a better look and giggling at the baby squirrel.
☆ HUENING KAI
prepares you your favorite drink in colorful thermos mugs. Huening kai wakes up around the time you’re getting ready to leave for work and every time without fail, he’s drag himself out of bed and to the kitchen to make you your favorite drink. While the water boils-- you usually have coffee, sometimes hot chocolate if you’re feeling a little bit silly– your boyfriend would walk over to where standing rummaging through your bag for your daily-use lipbalm and stare. He’d look you up and down and even wink at you if you make eye contact. He would compliment your outfit (“your shoes go well with your pants, they make you look taller”, “I like how you did your hair this morning”, “your eye shadow is cute, did you use the new pallet I bought you?”, etc..) and kiss you good morning before walking off to finish his daily task at the ping of the boiler. Just before you walk out the door, a sleepy voice calls out to you and a thermos mug is soon pushed in your free hand. The mug’s color matches perfectly well with your outfit and you blush at the effort, kissing him goodbye and leaving for work, ready to brag about your favorite drink and new mug to your students– you just know they are going to be thrilled at the flower print.
taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @tyunni @4xiaojun @pointlessapple @yyx2 @hykai @pearlygraysky @angelhyj @enluv
please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove
#k-labels#txt#txt x reader#tomorrow by together x reader#tomorrow x together#txt yeonjun#txt soobin#txt beomgyu#txt taehyun#txt huening kai#txt yeonjun x reader#txt soobin x reader#txt beomgyu x reader#txt taehyun x reader#txt huening kai x reader#txt fluff#txt scenarios#txt headcanons#txt reactions#! music articles .. 💿
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rough day (e.m)
eddie x fem!reader
18+ MDNI
contains: language, unprotected PIV, slight cockwarming, lmk if i missed something!
a/n: y’all voted, and wanted smut, so here you go little freaks. i hope you enjoy!
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it had been a long day. hell, even that was putting it lightly. it was the worst day at work you could have possibly had and yet you hadn’t taken it out on a single customer, coworker, or even the concrete wall in the back alleyway.
you trudged through the door into the beloved Munson Family’s trailer, a place you felt like you were able to relax and be greeted with endless love and support.
today however, you had no room to receive love or support. you instead just wanted to crawl into bed and wither away. you wanted to physically be unable to tell the difference between your body and the mattress.
Eddie sits in the living room on the sofa and instantly lights up at the sight of seeing you. he stands to greet you with a hug but once locking his eyes with yours his smile fades and his walk slows.
“hey baby… bad day?” he treads carefully. surely scared to receive the brunt of your harbored anger.
“yeah. like literally the worst ever.” you sigh, the feeling overwhelming as hot tears prick your eyes.
after slipping off your shoes, you pad to the bedroom and start stripping your work uniform off your body and finally feeling some sort of relief.
Eddie follows you around at a distance, still nervous to see what you take out your aggression on and comfort you where needed.
you sit yourself cross-legged and naked on the bedroom floor, opening the bottom drawer of Eddie’s dresser where he keeps a decent stack of semi-clean tshirts for you to wear. you pull the top shirt out and glide it over your head and arms, engulfing you in his scent.
it takes everything in you to just stand from the floor and crawl onto the bed, letting your body hit the mattress as you lay flat on your back. you hold your arms up and move your fingers in a motion that implies you want Eddie to join you on the bed.
“whatcha need hun?” he asks softly, laying next you while combing though your hair with his fingers.
“you, please. i need you to fuck me until i forget the world exists.” you turn your head, locking eyes with his.
“okay baby, i got you.” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you as he begins grinding his growing erection against your thigh.
you don’t leave room for much foreplay, craving him inside of you. you strip him of his clothes and pull him on top of your body.
seeing your eagerness, he doesn’t even try to finger you first, which unsurprisingly you didn’t even need. he just shoves his cock into your weeping and needy hole.
“oh fuck! yes baby, harder please!” you cry out, gripping onto his back by the shoulder blades, pulling him down to be closer to you.
he pounds into you, grunting and whispering sweet praises into your ear.
“there you go baby, being so good. look at you, taking all of me so perfectly.” he coos, his lips lingering on your ear.
as soon as you begin clenching around his cock he knows you’re close. you feel him pulsating against your walls as he moves one hand down to play with your clit. he swirls the small bud around in between his pointer finger and thumb, making you jerk up in reaction, his cock hitting you just right at your movement.
“fucking hell, Eds! i’m so close. don’t stop, please don’t sto—” unable to even finish your sentence, you feel him shuttering as his white and sticky cum spills inside of you. that alone is enough to bring you to your orgasm.
you lay on the bed, feeling his cock still twitching inside of you as your body becomes less tense. you feel like a puddle, just melting into the mattress with Eddie laying on top of you.
after a moment, he shifts, beginning to pull out of you but you’re quick to stop him.
“wait! no, please don’t. just… just wait a little longer? i need to feel you close to me.” you squeak out, not feeling an ounce of anger like you had earlier in the evening.
you felt comfortable, safe, and content with the current situation you were in. the rough day you had gone through seemed to have been whisked away by the presence of Eddie. though the orgasm he gave you certainly was a key factor as well.
“don’t worry baby, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are soft, bringing more comfort to you as you continue holding him in a tight hug.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#stranger things#eddie stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie blurb#eddie smut#eddie munson fic
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Weakened by Eywa Pt. 5
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Masterlist
Summary: Ao'nung finally realizes that his actions have consequences
Warnings: curse words, bullying, mental breakdown, English isn't my first language
Author's note: guys I’m so sorry that I didn’t tagged those who voted in the poll😭 I had no idea that it’s anonymous and you can’t see those who vote🥲 I’m really really sorry!!! Please, text me or comment if you want to be tagged. I hope you won’t get upset by this
Yawntutsyip - darling, little loved one
Yaymak - foolish, ignorant
Tsmukan - brother
Sa’nu - mommy
Metiyawn - love (plural)
“Now you can’t call me helpless, water boy.” After finally learning how to ride ilu, you were really playful, swimming with Ao’nung.
“Yeah, that’s because I was your teacher. Otherwise you would be helpless.” Light smile was on his face as he was talking to you. “Hey, who first reaches that stone will be the winner!”
It was really sudden game, but you managed to react fast. Even though your swimming skills improved significantly, you still were far from Ao’nung’s skills. He was way faster and was already standing on that huge stone and looking down at you. His skin was lighter on the sun.
“Come here, I’ll help you” you were about to thank him, but then he added “Loser” and chuckled at your unpleased face.
“Hey! You’re stronger than me and you are water na’vi. I’ll look at you running on the trees and trying to keep your balance with that thick tail!” You pushed his shoulder a little when he helped you to climb up.
“Yeah, I would probably be loser in the forest. I remember you almost killing me that day, I didn’t even recognize you at first. You were in your element and I understood that you’re actually strong. Surprisingly, not really loser.” Ao’nung laughed at last sentence and you pushed him again, but also had fun.
“Yeah, forest is my home. I don’t know how it is possible for people to claim that sea is their home. We’re actually different as you said before.” You sat on the warm stone and looked at the sunset.
“Yes, but we’re still all na’vis, children of Eywa and I didn’t understand it before.” Ao’nung joined you, you were so close that your shoulders were touching each other. “Y/N, you know I’m really sorry what what I did and said. Even though you said you forgave me, I, myself cannot forget it.” His aquatic eyes were looking far at the horizon.
“You don’t need to forget it, you must forgive yourself. I forgive you, but I will never forget about it and that’s not bad. You need to learn from your and others’ mistakes. It is your life and experience. But it is also your choice how to react on all these things happening to you. I could choose not to forgive you and I would be a lifelong burden for both of us. You could choose to be blind and not see anything wrong in your actions and it would break me and my family more and more. But we made our decisions and we’re here now, being friends and having this conversation. It is because we choose peace. Inside us and around us.” You placed your hand on his chest, explaining your thoughts and forgetting about boundaries.
Ao’nung didn’t respond to you, but placed his hand over yours on his chest. You looked up at him and met his gaze. It was so intimate, you could feel the whole atmosphere between you changing vitally. You wanted to remove your hand, but he didn’t let you do this, holding it solidly.
“What are you doing, Ao’nung? Why are you looking at me like this?” All your confidence and playfulness disappeared.
You could feel him examining you. Your eyes, your hair, you lips, your hands. Ao’nung wanted to look at you all day long. Enjoying your beauty and wisdom. You captured his heart, his soul not even knowing about it.
“If you were the Sun, I would burn my eyes but keep looking at you every day. If you were a bird, I would spend all days in the forest listening to you.” He took your other hand, stroking it softly. “I know I hurt you deeply and I know it might be too early to say that as we’ve recently just came to peace. But I don’t know how I can live another day keeping it inside. You told that it is my choice how to react on things happening to me. This thing has been making me crazy for so long and I finally made my choice, Y/N.”
You felt your heart blowing inside of you. You didn’t know what to do or to say. Ao’nung was looking at you for a couple of seconds and then his face got as close to yours that you could feel his warm breath. Your knees felt weak at that type of closeness. One second and he leaves a little kiss in the corner of your lips.
Your eyes widened, breath is our of control. He looks right into your eyes, trying to catch your emotions. Ao’nung is also nervous, but he can’t show it to you since he is a future warrior, Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina. He wants to look strong and mighty in front of you.
“Y/N…”
“I… I need…” all words left your mind “I need to think it over.”
And you left him, running away from that stone. You didn’t even notice how you ended up riding ilu back to your marui. Your heartbeat was going crazy every time you remembered his lips on yours.
“What’s going on..?” You placed your hand on your heart trying to calm down. “Why my heart is beating so fast?”
“Y/N, are you okay?”
Mother’s voice distracted you. She knew something was wrong, you looked shocked. Even your hands were shaking a little.
“What happened? Someone annoyed you?”
“No, I just… I think I have feelings, but I’m not sure.” Neytiri led you to the Marui, looking at you worried.
“You mean feelings to a boy?”
“Yes, he kissed me.” It was hard for you to tell the truth, especially to your mom. You were embarrassed.
“Who was that?” Neytiri was actually excited to know that you’re getting used to the life here. You build your own story here.
“I’m not ready to tell it yet. But I don’t know what to do. He kissed me in the corner of my lips and I ran away. Is he going to hate me?” Helpless look on your face made your mom feel the wave of love. You��re still a kid who is getting through first romantic feeling.
“It’s okay, don’t worry. If he had true feelings to you he won’t be mad.” Her words easined your heart. “But you have to talk to him and explain everything, if you really value him.”
“Okay, thank you sa’nu.” You hugged Neytiri. You really needed it. “I will go for a walk. I need to think about everything.”
“Okay, but don’t be out for too long. You better be home before the eclipse.”
***
You’d been sitting in your place in the forest for the past 2 hours and trying to understand what you feel. That kiss put you out of your stride completely. You wouldn’t even think about having feelings to Ao’nung if he didn’t do this.
These days, every time you got physically close to each other you felt a little awkward and shy which is unusual for you. This never happened with Roxto or other guys.
“Do I like him?” As you asked yourself you felt your heartbeat increasing.
“Y/N, what are you doing here? We’ve been looking for you.” You saw Neteyam coming out from the bushes.
“Sorry, I was just thinking, this place is peaceful.” You moved a little to let your brother sit next to you. “I thought it’s my secret place, but I guess it’s not.”
“Yeah, sorry.” He looked at you apologizing. “What are you thinking about? I see you’re worried.”
“I don’t think you would like to hear it.”
“C’mon, I’m your big brother. I won’t get mad, promise.” He patted you on the head, waiting for your speech.
“I think, I have feelings to Ao’nung.” you were really cautious when revealed the truth. “He kissed me today and I don’t know what to do.”
You were afraid to look at him. Silence made you nervous.
“I see.”
Neteyam looked thoughtful. You had no idea what’s going on in his mind. For you his opinion on this was the most important. You really needed his support as an older brother.
“Talk to him.”
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A/N: Heyyy! I hope you liked it! I’m so happy for their developing relationships and that everyone is so supportive🥹 I’m really excited about next part! I think it’s going to be the last one, but we’ll see! I have ideas for some one-shots and I can’t wait to finish think work and write them🙈 Also, sorry for the delay, I’m really busy at school these days🥲
Taglist: @elegantkidfansoul @ijwsbdinp @universal-s1ut @myh3artt @lynbubble @jjkclub @kenzi-woycehoski @marvellover4 @ssc7514 @stvrligghtt @johfaam @simplecole18 @flavaliz @chrisbelle @bajadotcom @jak3suiiyscvmslvt @a--1--1--3 @roxannedaybreakermidnight @aonungmyaddiction @neteyamsmate4life @boilingpots @fanboyluvr @zilena9 @maxiel4life
I couldn’t tag those, whose nicknames are in red:(
#aonung#aonung x female reader#aonung x reader#aonung x sully!reader#aonung x y/n#aonung x you#neteyam x sister!reader#avatar 2#avatar fanfiction#avatar twow#lo’ak x sister!reader#neteyam#loak x sister!reader#loak#ao’nung#ao’nung x you
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In Plain Sight
[first] [Previous] [2] [Next]
It’s rarepair finals day! Vote felinette (if you send me a screenshot of your felinette vote I am contractually obligated to draw more comic pages, or a request if you have one) We’re losing against marigami but we can put up a fight at least lol
As a special for finals day I’m gonna do a second update later with 3 pages (after which I think I’m gonna do every Sunday updates?) but ye
Don’t forget to vote felinette @ml-rarepairs
Bonus:
#it’s an honour to lose against marigami#miraculous ladybug#miraculous fanart#ladybug pv#felix agreste#felinette#marinette cheng#marichat#chat noir#tikki#ml comic#In Plain Sight
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Summerfest 2023
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Jack Hughes x reader
I usually write stories and longer fics on my main blog but I thought I’d give this a shot. I finally looked up summerfest tickets and that inspired this.
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Y/nusername
Liked by trevorzegras, Elblue6, jackhughes and 25,076 others
Y/nusername: Drove a little further right this summer and ended up at Summerfest. Is it even a good summer without good music, humid weather and getting drunk friends? 🎶 🍻
jackhughes the best summers are the ones I get to spend with you ❤️
Y/nusername and I didn’t even have to tell you to say that. Aww 🥰 I love you babes 😘
trevorzegras I’m gonna barf 🤢
y/nusername don’t be salty just because you weren’t here
trevorzegras it wouldn’t have hurt anyone to at least invite me!!
jackhughes your invite probably got lost like the one you sent me for Coachella
trevorzegras …now who’s salty 🧂
Elblue6 Looks like you guys had a lot of fun. I can’t wait to see you all in a week.
y/nusername I’m counting down the days!
_quinnhughes idk it’s pretty chill here without Jack and his friends
y/nusername pretend all you like but I know you love me
_quinnhughes @/y/nusername it’s true I’ve petitioned to make you a permanent member of the family in exchange for getting rid of Jack
jackhughes I always knew you were plotting to get rid of me @_quinnhughes
_quinnhughes how’d you know? @/jackhughes
jackhughes Winter of ‘09 when you pushed me into a freezing lake kinda gave me an idea
lhughes_06 or Jack could just nut up and propose and we could have both of them forever.
Liked by y/nusername
User1 is it just me or did Jack get awfully quiet
User2 with all the country artists that play at summerfest I’m surprised Jack hasn’t been before
ryleigh_white still sad Dawson and I couldn’t make it but that video you sent of Noah Kahan will sustain me for a life time
y/nusername I hope one song came through clear and without me screaming over it
_alexturcotte I vote we do this every summer
trevorzegras “we”???
y/nusername 🧂
jackhughes 🧂
Ybf/username 🧂
jackhughes
Liked by y/nusername, _alexturcotte, lhughes_06, and 43,674 others
jackhughes maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea
y/nusername so you admit I was right? Going to Summerfest was a good idea?
jackhughes I feel like if I say yes you’ll hold it over my head forever
y/nusername I would never. You wound me.
lhughes_06 smells like a lie 🤥
y/nusername @/lhughes_06 we still have to drive back to Michigan. Don’t think I won’t leave you stranded on some farm land.
lhughes_06 you wouldn’t @y/nusername
y/nusername try me moosey 😈
nicohischier we had a great season you deserve to have a good summer
jackhughes thanks cap. Will do.🫡
trevorzegras and here I was worried that @y/nusername was gonna take my place but now I gotta worry about @/_alexturcotte
y/nusername @/trevorzegras honestly I’d call you jealous but that little hussy has a picture before me. @/jackhughes explain yourself.
jackhughes i… 🏃💨
_alexturcotte Alexa play Pretty Girl Rock 🎶
colecaufield the fact that I’m not getting 📸 cred on that last picture should be a federal offense
y/nusername it’s a lovely picture @/colecaufield thx ☺️
jackhughes don’t be cocky @/colecaufield
dawson1417 I would say I wish I had been there but I just know that Jack and y/n were probably sucking face the whole time
lhughes_06 forget being attached at the hip they’re attached by the lips
y/nusername 💋
Upload more comments
#Sunny’s insta edits#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes insta edit#nhl imagine#jack hughes imagine#🏒insta au#jack hughes blurb#my writing
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Based on the little note you left, now I know you're plenty busy so feel free to delay or ignore this for as long as you need, there's no rush at all, and don't forget take care of yourself :)
Sooooo my request was a scenario of the chain and reader waking up to start the day, when one of the Links glances at a reader beginning to wake up and only then noticing the snake chilling on reader's body. The Links begin to panic, reader's still half asleep and confused until somebody finally tells reader about the snake, and reader immediately goes 'omg new bestie' and proceeds to leave the snake to rest on their shoulders for the remainder of the morning until the group had to get going again.
Bonus points if you include any funny reactions or any silly moments in general.
Reader and a snake!
A/N:fun fact I was googling for a descriptor for a snake besides “legless” and the term for a being without limbs is quite literally “Amelia”. I was like 👁️👁️ain’t no way. That’s literally a name, I know so many people named Amelia. Anyway! Thought that was funny and interesting enough to share! Also small psa I feel important enough to share as well:don’t go messing with snakes😭as someone who lives in a part of the US with TONS of dangerous snake species, they’re nothing to mess around w/. Alright, now enjoy.
Ah, morning. Another day, another however many miles you all can walk without totally collapsing from exhaustion of all kinds. The chain slowly started waking up and getting things ready to go when something seemed…off… no one could pinpoint exactly what that thing was, either…. At least not until they looked at you. It didn’t seem like much at first, but their eyes drifted to the all too noticeable legless animal curled up on your lap as you slept. Legend was about to scream before Hyrule slapped a hand over his mouth. “Shh—we don’t want it to bite them…” he whispered and legend nodded. They took a vote(aka they played nose goes until someone realized their finger wasn’t on their nose) and the hero of the Wild slowly crept up and poked your shoulder before jerking back. When you didn’t wake, he did it again and you stirred, but didn’t wake. It would’ve been comical had this not been as dangerous of a situation as it was… or they presumed it to be, anrway. Finally after enough poking and prodding, you woke.
“???? What gives???”
“Y—y/n, theres….” Wars pointed to the snake still fueled in your lap. It seemed the boys(all besides Time and Twilight) were afraid of snakes. Especially Four, what with how mouselike the Picori looked—and snakes ate mice!
You looked down and lit up. “Oh cool! Hello little danger noodle..!” You picked it up carefully and it saw no threat to your actions, so it let you do as you please. The boys were in awe.
“It’s… not biting…” Four poked his head out from around Wars
“Of course it’s not—I’m not doing anything to provoke it or frighten it. It saw me safe enough to sleep on, so why would it bite me now?”
“…fair enough…” he said and watched nervously. The snake hung around on you until it was time to leave. You set it at the corner of the woods and patted its head. “Thanks for hanging out with me, little fella. Go find you some breakfast now.” You smiled and watched the creature slither away, before you and your group went on your way. Crazy morning, but honestly not the craziest you(or the chain) have seen. And nobody’s complaining, either. No harm, no foul.
#linked universe#linkeduniverse#linked universe x reader#lu four#lu legend#lu hyrule#lu twilight#lu wind#lu sky#lu time#lu wars#lu warriors#lu wild
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Anthony Lockwood - I Love You So
Pairing : (F/M) || Anthony Lockwood x TouchGifted!Reader
Word Count : 5.7k. Damn I’m on fire this time.
Warning : Mention of blood and injury. Angst. Possible OOC as I haven’t read the books. Not proofread.
Synopsis : The ambition they’ve nurtured for years finally start to create a space between them, straining their relationship that turns what once were friends into colleagues.
Notes : Inspired by The Walters - I Love You So. This song is very Lockwood coded for me, I recommend listening to it while reading. Please help and try to save Lockwood & co by using the hashtag #SaveLockwoodAndCo on social medias and don’t forget to vote for them on National Film Award 2023. You can check my friend Paulina’s tweet to see how. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕
Her fingers trace the writings on the thinking cloth, lips unintentionally curved into a smile whenever George's silly comment or Lucy's mocking remarks were visible. Their early bicker about their planning process replays in her head. She's always been one to easily record information in her head, no further recall or revising needed for her to proceed with their plans, but given her troublesome nights lately, supposed a late night go over with a cup of tea would be a brilliant idea.
“Trouble sleeping?”
She looks up, welcomed by smiling Lockwood who's leaning by the kitchen door, “Something like that.”
“Why didn't you come to the library?”
“Wasn't in the mood for a late night quarrel with you.”
She shot him a playful smile, earning a light chuckle that didn't sound like it was heartfelt. Just enough to let her know that he understood her sarcasm.
Lockwood steps in, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting across her. She could feel his eyes trained on her, taking in every detail and admiring it as he wouldn't do it during the day. For whatever reason that might be, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't like he ever professed any feelings for her. For all she knows he might just be spacing out and planning something in his head completely unrelated to her.
He calls her name.
Not looking up to meet his eyes, she hums, “Hm?”
“We're good.. Aren't we?”
No, no we aren't, she thought. He might not notice it but the distance growing between them has been eating her alive. She wasn't sure when it started nor what exactly is the cause for her invisible wound, but something's changed between them. He would be there in the morning when they eat breakfast, would be there when they watch their late night show on the telly, but Lockwood has been anything but a friend to her. He's turned into a stranger she hardly recognise. There was a wall between them, one she couldn't climb nor break through, and it's maddening that she couldn't fix it or talk about it.
Because what exactly changed? She doesn't know.
“Of course.” She faked a smile, feigning her most believable tender tone “What makes you think we're not?”
Lockwood opens his mouth before closing it again, sealing it with a smile as if he thinks it would be better to entertain her lies, “Nothing. Just wanted to be sure.”
She nods, looking back down to the thinking cloth.
“Will you join me tonight?” He asks again, nervousness bleeds through his tone. This wouldn't be the first time he asks her to sleep with him, just to hold each other until the sun rises, but for some reason it feels much more nerve racking than the countless previous. Perhaps because for the first time, her answer might not be pleasant to his ear “We can discuss further about the plan. Maybe my rambling can help you drift to slumber.”
“Not tonight, Anthony.”
It's taken her every willpower to not look up and take her words back. She can imagine the disappointment in his eyes when she hears him let out a sigh. She's avoiding him now. Perhaps scared to actually feel the distance between them when she lays on his bed, no longer feeling the safety of his embrace.
“Alright,” He mutters as he stands and pushes his chair “Don't stay up too late, we need you sharp and alert for tomorrow's job.”
Again, she only replies with a nod.
When the doorknob lightly clicks, she lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. Her eyes now avert to the door, where he was standing just a few minutes ago with that proud smile and tired eyes. He looks the same, the very same Anthony John Lockwood who'd caused them numerous troubles on the field, the very same Anthony who's ego seems to inflate whenever a rapier is at hand, the very same boy she's been madly in love with for years.
There were moments when she thought that the water flows both ways. When he would hug her first after winning a fencing tournament, or when he would hold her after a terrible nightmare, or simply when he would give her freshly cut toasts for breakfast. The little things one would not notice as something sentimental after years of growing up together. But she does. She notices.
Perhaps had even taken things too seriously when it might just mean nothing for him.
She lets out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her temples gently. It might just be nothing, she tries to convince herself, it might just be the stress of work for both of us. With the agency's growing popularity and demands of clients that never seem to end, perhaps all her troubles were just caused by it. That nothing is wrong between her and Lockwood, that there is no distance, no space between them.
—-
“Another massive win for us, I might say.” Lockwood says as the squad enters 35 Portland Row. His arm was around her shoulder as support, dried blood littering his left cheek from the early action of the mission, but neither the ache nor wound on his temple seem to wither his satisfied-self “The papers are going to have to write about us this time.”
Lucy groans as she tidies their rapier to the stand, “Keep me out from them, please.”
“Oh, but you're the star of this agency, Luce!”
Lucy dismisses Anthony's remark as she proceeds to ascend the stairs, visibly in desperate need of a warm shower.
“I wouldn't want to be involved too, thanks for asking.” George sarcastically commented with eyes still studying the locket they retrieved from the site. An ancient relic that would be his source of research for the weeks to come “You two would be enough of a punching bag for them to pick on.”
Lockwood turns to her as George retreats to his room, a happy grin still etched on his face, “Looks like it's gonna be us two again.”
“We can worry about the press later. You have a wound to treat first.” She replies as they begin to walk deeper into the house “And don't keep your hopes too high, Anthony. DEPRAC has a tendency to stomp on our dreams.”
Wincing slightly as he rests himself on the sofa, Lockwood watches her leave the room to get their med kit and a basin full of water. He could never get tired of this. Walking home after a successful mission, her tending his wounds that wouldn't be there if he would just suppress his impulsive-self, and listening to her scolds about how he acts like he's got nine lives on his sleeves.
But when she returned with her kit, the nagging that he's braced himself to face never came. She remained quiet, eyes locked on his wound. Not even a second spared to look into his eyes.
The cleaning process felt like a blink of an eye. Before he knew it she was already fixing the bandages back to the aid bag. His wound was cleaned, a thin layer of healing ointment lacing it. All done in silence, no lectures.
“Try to keep the wound dry when you shower, alright?”
Lockwood blinks. Nodding at her words as he tries to digest the silence they're in.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“I don't think so.” He answers.
She flashes a smile, standing from her seat. Without another word she exits the room, carrying the basin that is now slightly red from his blood and the aid bag. She spared no other glance at him. Silently returning the medical kit to the cabinet before entering her room and locking it shut.
Perhaps today isn't a big win after all.
—-
Having Lucy in the company has exponentially boosted their success. Such brilliant talent has brought them more accomplishment that it was getting troublesome for them to finish one mission to another. Lucy was truly Heaven sent, in short. The saviour to their dying agency and she could never thank her enough to revive Lockwood's dream back to life.
She understands the importance of Lucy's gift for their team and how the company is at it’s golden moment right now. Sure she and Lockwood are two of the most gifted agents there are, but with Lucy in the crew, the quartet was unbeatable. And it is obvious that Lockwood is determined to reap as much advantage as possible.
“I'm going to the grocery shop, anyone needs anything?”
It was a lazy Sunday morning. George making notes on the thinking cloth, Lucy trying to listen to their newest source, and Lockwood leaning on the kitchen set with his brows furrowed, clearly in a deep thought.
“I'll come with you.” Lockwood says as he picks up his coat “George, you said we need more teabags, right? Anything for you, Luce?”
The girl shakes her head, looking rather annoyed to have her focus broken from his question.
“I can go alone, it's not going to be a huge shopping trip.” She says as Lockwood comes to her “Really, Anthony, you can just stay and help brainstorm the plan.”
“I'm coming,” He insists with a light chuckle “What is it with you? Are you avoiding me or something?”
Yes, she wanted to say, I'm going out to have a breath away from you.
Lockwood opens the door, gesturing to her to come and ignoring her lack of answer, “Come on then.”
With a last smile and wave of goodbye to George and Lucy, she follows Lockwood's step outside of the house. The wind was blowing gently, sky clear and blue, the very perfect weather for her to take a stroll yet her mind couldn't help but to overlook such perfection and worry about the body walking next to her instead.
Lockwood's hands were buried deep inside his pockets. He was looking down to the cobblestone, as if there was some invisible stepping for him to step on. The creases on his forehead are a clear indication that his mind is occupied elsewhere. Almost as if he was mirroring her.
“So, uh,” He begins, trying to break the ice between them “What do you need from the shop?”
“Just some snacks and sweets.” She answers “You?”
He shrugs, “Maybe just a pack of gum.”
“Right.”
Lockwood nods, turning his gaze back to the road.
For someone who loves to brood in silence, Lockwood has always had her as an exception. She's the only person he could let his chatter-self loose, expressing all the most trivial thoughts he has, knowing that she would indulge them with a welcoming commentary or simply a warm laughter. The kind of laughter that makes you feel seen and heard. Her kind of laughter.
But after all her evident effort to turn him down, asking to be paired with George on their missions, declining his invitations to spend the night in his room or the library, and the most recent no-scolding-moment when she tended his wound, Lockwood couldn't help but to feel pressured on finding a topic to talk about.
“So what do you think about our last job?” He asks, forcing a happy smile as she turns to see him “A rather brilliant achievement, don't you think? With Lucy in our team, I'm certain our agency can be big in no time. Hell, we might have to start rejecting clients soon, can you believe it? We're lucky to have found such gifted talent-”
“Lockwood,” She cuts in, making him wince at the use of his last name instead of his first “Can I ask you a favour?”
He blinks, “Anything.”
“Let's not talk about work until we get back home, okay? Can I ask that of you?”
“Sure,” He nods “Of course, no talking about work for the rest of our shopping trip.”
She flashes a smile in gratitude, locking their arms together as a means of apology for stomping on his light. He smiles at her, a genuine one, before patting the back of her hand and continuing their walk to the grocery shop.
—-
The trolley wheels through the aisle as she scans for the particular brand of chocolate. She would certainly need a big bar of it along with a pint of ice cream tonight. For once after what seems to be forever, she finally cracked the code. The cause of space that has been growing between her and Lockwood has been found. What is left now is to find a way to solve it and to tell him about how they need to separate their lives with the job.
When he first told her about his dream of having his own agency, she was ever the most supportive and kind. Dropping her brilliant achievements at the academy, she was the first or perhaps second agent of Lockwood & co. Their talents were more than enough to ever become the elite team if they were in another agency, but since the company was still on its baby roots, finding clients was rather challenging. Things were getting better when George joined and even more brilliant now that Lucy is part of the team. She would have never expected his dream to be in the way of their personal lives.
Everything is just work, work, and work now.
“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”
She turns to see the man, a wide smile plastered on his face. Almost as radiant as his yellow leather uniform, “Quill, hi!”
“Oh, it's been forever.” He says as they share a hug “Are you here alone?”
“Lockwood,” She replies “He's wandering around but with you here, I'm sure he'll pop up in no time.”
The two chuckles at her commentary. Lockwood and Kipps were always the cause of her nightmares back in the academy. The two boys could never seem to act civil, always bickering and hostile to one another, but when she's alone with either of them, they would act the most gentle as if she was someone they love dearly for.
A different kind of love from each of the boys, of course.
“How are you?” She asks, her expression turns to slight worry “Is it getting any better?”
Kipps smiles painfully, “Barely holding on. We've got to make most of what we have, don't we?”
If there were no bad blood between the two she would have offered Kipps to join the agency years ago. Having known him for years and to see just how brilliant he was, the way his techniques were always showcased whenever they have a fencing duel, it is no wonder that people hold a big expectation on his shoulders. He was promoted as supervisor in no time due to his proficient skills but with his talent slowly weakening, he needed someone to help patch this rather embarrassing fragility.
“Have you given it a thought?” Kipps asks with a gentle tone “I heard that Lucy girl is of great help for your team. Do you think you could finally help mine instead?”
“Quill–,”
“Kipps,” Lockwood says as he circles his arm around her shoulder, showing a rather possessive manner at the sight of them “What are you doing here? You're not stalking us, are you?”
Kipps snorts, making a disgusted face at him, “This is a public space, Lockwood. Don't flatter yourself.”
Understanding that their time has come to an end, Kipps flashes her a smile and walks away. He knows that Lockwood wouldn't give them another second to talk so unless he'd want him to know about his persisting issue, it was best for Kipps to find himself out of the scene.
“What did he want?”
“Nothing, we just had a chat.” She lied, pushing Lockwood's arm off of her shoulder and continued to wheel the trolley.
“About what?”
“About nothing of your concern.” She replies “You might never see him as one but Quill's a friend of mine, Anthony. We were just having a friendly conversation.”
Lockwood frowns at her dissatisfying answer. She's keeping something from him but whatever it is, he knew that poking about it now would be the recipe for a nightmare. Her sour mood hasn't watered and it would be wise for him to just let her be.
Besides, it wasn't like she'd leave him. Not for Kipps of all people.
“Can I ask you something?”
Lockwood turns to her, a loving smile decorating his face, “Anything.”
“How are you, Anthony?”
He frowns, “Splendid, how are you?”
“No, I mean, how are you?” She repeats, sighing in frustration to convey her true meaning “I don’t know anything about you outside of work anymore. What music do you listen to now? What book do you read? Do you even read still?”
Lockwood remains quiet, waiting for her to continue with her words so he would understand better.
“I live under your roof, see you almost 24/7. You’re the first person I see in the morning and the last I would bid goodnight to, yet I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”
“That’s not true.” He argues, still not understanding the severity of their discussion “You know everything about me.”
“Do I?”
“Don’t you?”
“Stop turning my questions to me, Anthony. You know I don’t like it when you do it.”
His chuckle breaks, now pulling her for a tight hug, “Is that what you’ve been worrying about? That you don’t know me anymore?”
She remains quiet.
“If there is anyone that knows me down to my fibre, it would be you.” He continues, patting her head gently to soothe her “I mean, I suppose I have been too occupied with work but that doesn’t mean that you don’t know me anymore. We still share our meals together, watch our favourite shows and spend most of our time together. You’re still the one friend that knows me best.”
“I suppose,” She gives in “I’m just worried that this whole ghost hunting thing is burying our reality because I genuinely can’t draw the line between work and our lives anymore.”
“Well, our life is the agency, is it not?”
She shrugs.
“Hey,” Lockwood calls, breaking the hug and cupping her face to look into her eyes “You know me. I’m not a stranger to you, alright? You know what my current favourite jam is, what kind of tea I enjoy at the moment, and what colour of socks I wear the most. We’re still the same people as we were five, ten years ago.”
She smiles, nodding as she melts into his sweet words, “Alright.”
—-
"Anthony, I don't like this."
The group puts down their bags as they arrive at the mansion. Examining the place from the outside, she can already tell that whatever is waiting for them inside isn’t anything close to what they’ve encountered before.
“It’s still a couple hours till sunset but the energy is already this strong.” She told him, her senses heightened in fear “We’re not equipped to fight such a visitor, Anthony. Best we go back, rethink our plan, and maybe ask for assistance.”
“From who? Kipps you mean?” Lockwood asks with a bitter expression. He rubs his nose, a habit he does whenever he’s trying to tone down a brewing exasperation “Look, we’ve been through this a hundred times. The plan is foul proof, I can assure you. By this time tomorrow we’ll be crowding the sitting room, watching whatever unknown movie George picks to enjoy.”
“This isn’t about your ego or old feud with Quill, Anthony. There’s nothing wrong in understanding your limit and drawing the line. No shame in dropping a job we’re not capable of.” She tries to reason “Think about our safety.”
“You’re safe,” He insists, placing his hands on her shoulders for assurance “Nothing bad will happen to any of us. I’ll keep an eye for you, I promise.”
Not giving her another second to argue, Lockwood walks away and begins to help Lucy fixing the metal chain. The inside of her stomach flips when the wind blows. She knows that even for people who aren’t gifted, the atmosphere the mansion offers is nowhere close to the word homey. There’s something dark and cold, peeking through the windows and she could feel it in her bones that none of them four is strong enough to battle such power.
She walks to George and begins unloading their equipment. Her brows furrow at the sight of a strange item. A circular ball that looks like their salt bomb, only that it is heavier and bigger in size.
“Careful,” George says as he takes it from her hand with care.
“What is that?”
“A new bomb.” He answers “It has salt, lavender, and some other chemical thing inside that would explode from sudden force. Throw it to the floor and whatever visitor we meet would evaporate to thin air.”
“That doesn’t sound very safe.” She mutters, turning her eyes back to the mansion “I hope we don’t have to use that tonight.”
She looks back at Lockwood’s direction, trying to ease her worry by repeating his words in her head. Lockwood knows what he’s doing. They’ve been through the plan a hundred times, just like he said. Nothing will go wrong tonight. Everything is collected and under control.
—-
“Make it stop!” Lucy wails, closing her ears tight with her hands “Please, make it stop!”
“George, give us the chains!” Anthony yells as he tries to calm Lucy.
George quickly runs to their aid as she tries her best to fight the ghost with her rapier. She might not be the best there is, but she’s neck to neck as good as Lockwood and that should give her friends enough time to cast more protection for Lucy.
It hasn’t even been two hours since they entered the mansion and already the plans they came up with burned to ashes. This is more than just a case of an old abandoned house. The amount of type two occupying the building is enough to tell them that their client hasn’t been truthful. This place must have witnessed a mass murder, perhaps a cult sacrifice, to hoard this much energy.
“We need to find the source.” She says as she battles the ghosts “I can’t use my talent while fighting these ghosts.”
As if on cue, Lockwood came and began to fight the ghosts. He turns to her for a brief moment, “Go. I’ll protect you.”
With a nod, she walks away from her spot, running to the other side of the room. She places her hands to the walls, trying to get a clearer picture of what they’re dealing with.
The sound of screams and crying begin to fill her ears. There was so much pain and sorrow. This mansion has seen the worst of human acts, inflicting as much agony as possible to innocent lives. Her consciousness was slipping away, drowning in the torment that she is sensing and if it wasn’t for Lucy’s scream of cry acting as her tether to reality, she would have sunk in a ghost-lock condition.
“The blade,” She says as she finally gets the idea of their source “The source is a blade. An old one with a gold handle and Latin engraving.”
“Great work,” Lockwood praises her, his prideful smirk tugging on his face “George, prepare the chain net. Be ready to cover it.”
“How exactly are we going to find it? It’s pitch black here.”
Lockwood chuckles, “Well, use your flashlight, why don’t you?”
The three of them now begin to scour the place whilst fighting the ghosts coming in their direction. The screaming in her head gets louder as they come closer to the source, almost deafening her physically. Her stepping was getting unstable. Energy and focus drained out of her with every bead of sweat layering her skin.
“Stop!” She yells, dropping her rapier as the cries become unbearable “It hurts, please stop!”
“Oh, no,” George, who was closest to her, now kneels down and tries to bring her back to consciousness as he lightly taps on her cheeks.
“George!” Lockwood calls, panic seems to finally sink in as he watches her wail in pain “The source must be close, try to find it. I’ll protect her.”
Nodding, George begins to crawl away and look for the damned blade. His hands found what seems to be an old cabinet and began to rummage through. With very limited lighting and no idea of what the blade looks like, searching for a piece of steel through a locker full of metal items feels fruitless.
Scanning from one drawer to the other, George lets out a satisfied chuckle as he finally finds what they’re looking for. But before he could take it out and cover it with their chain net, a handful of ghosts headed his way.
“George, watch out!”
In the heat of the moment, George throws the chain net to the drawer, hoping that it would land and cover the blade, before throwing the new bomb to the ghosts.
To their luck, the chain net did fall on top of the source but due to the close proximity and the lack of understanding of just how big the explosion the bomb would produce, George was thrown out of the wall from the impact. Bits of broken wood scratch his skin and there was a big gash on his forehead.
George was unconscious.
—-
Opening the keys to 35 Portland Row with a tired yawn, she put down her scarf and hung her coat by the rack. She’s been staying at the hospital for days, only returning home to take a shower and bring a new set of fresh clothes for George. Her body was aching. The scars on her skin from the previous mission are still fresh and hurting but none of it compares to the fatigue of worrying for George’s being.
The terror from that night still haunts her. How her head was filled with wails one moment to complete silence and darkness as George successfully covers the source. She remembers scanning the floor with her hands to find her flashlight, trying to get some light to understand their situation better, only to be completely frightened by the sight of George, lying unconscious with blood pooling around him.
“You’re home,” Lockwood greets, a relieved expression evident on his face.
She nods, not giving him an answer as she walks past him.
“How is he?” He asks as she gets to the stairs.
“Still unconscious but his vitals are stabilising.” She answers “You'd know if you visit him yourself.”
“I want to, but I need to finish the report and paperworks.” Lockwood reasoned, following her behind like a lost puppy “Lucy's out at the library to do some research about our next mission. With George at the hospital I think we'd need more time to make our plans.”
She rolls her eyes, fist balling as she tries to hold in her anger.
“I was wondering if you could go to the DEPRAC office on your way back to the hospital and drop the locket? Inspector Barnes called and-”
“Anthony!” She yells, finally turning to face the boy who's now pale from her sudden outburst “Are you even hearing yourself right now? Sending Lucy to work on our next job, asking me to stop by the DEPRAC office, you being busy in your little library, do you not even care in the slightest for George? He's lying unconscious at the hospital for a work I've told you to drop about!”
Lockwood remained silent. His expression is hard and unreadable.
“I've told you that we didn't have the equipment nor skills to do the job. I've told you that the visitors are much more powerful than the ones we've faced before. I've told you to at least ask for help for the task and yet you've dismissed it all and look what it's brought us, Anthony!”
“Yes, but we did it, didn't we? We secured the source.” Lockwood answers with feigned optimism, giving her his unsure smile as he steps closer “We took a hit, sure, but it's not like George didn't know what he was getting himself into.”
She blinks at his words. Now taking a step back away from him as she tries to digest his answer, “Is that what you're going to say when each of us falls?”
His expression softens, “You know I would never let anything hurt you.”
“Yet here I am.” She argues, her poison laced smile evident “Hurt and wounded.”
Lockwood was at a loss of words. He remained silent, staring at her with his pleading eyes that silently screams for her to drop this and forgive his faulty words. But his silence served as nothing but a mere slap to reality for her that Lockwood was just a boy with a naive dream and no understanding of the risks he's committing the team to.
“I thought this was all I wanted.” She says with a volume just above a whisper, a pitiful smile plastered on her face as she tries to keep her tone steady. The cracks of her breaking heart is visible through her expression “You're everything I want, Anthony.. But I can't deal with your ambitions anymore.”
Giving him no chance to explain, she retreats to her room and slams the door, leaving him defeated in the hallway. The house feels colder now somehow. As if the silence wasn't enough to weigh his guilt even more. Lockwood knew that he messed up but never had he imagined that he'd ruin things this far. Especially not with her.
—-
Days have been slightly better now that George's discharged from the hospital. The kitchen is once again filled with their chatter but not nearly half as much laughter as before. The nightmare of wounded George still haunts her days and torments her at night. She would never be able to work with the squad as she did before. Something has changed in her and there's no turning back now.
Lockwood on the other hand has tried every possible way to talk to her but with every chance he makes to pursue her, she just has a hundred more ways to turn it down and avoid him. Her silent treatment was driving him nuts and it would be an understatement to say that he's desperate to fix it.
Now sitting in his study room, Lockwood turns to the door as he hears a light knock. She peeks inside with a slight smile, the most he's gotten after their fight a couple weeks ago.
“Can I come in?”
“Have I ever said no?”
She nods, stepping inside the room timidly. A piece of paper in her hand.
“What is it?” He asks with a warm smile, hoping that this would be the start of their reconciliation “What can I help you with?”
She looks down to the letter in her hand, sighing before handing it to him, “I wanted to give you my resignation letter.”
Lockwood stares at her blankly, not moving from his chair.
Gently, she reaches for his hand and hands him the paper. Lockwood's eyes were glued on her, trying to catch any trace of jest from the words she uttered. He prays for all gods out there to let this be a joke. Some cruel prank she's pulling on him as payback for his dickhead move for the past months. But as the ticking of the clock in the room grew louder, her playful smile never appeared.
“Why?”
“Anthony–”
“I promise to do better, I swear it.” He begs, standing from his seat and carelessly putting the letter away “I'll make better plans, I'll calculate each and every possibility there is and I'll listen to you better. Any input you have, I'll highlight it and make it work. Please, just– Don't leave. Don't leave me.”
She had to look away from his eyes before her fortress crumbled. Lockwood knows just when to put those big puppy eyes out and win her heart. But there's just so many times she could spare herself for him. There's just so many chances she could give and no matter how much she wishes and prays that this time would be different than the last, she knew that the damage done would still leave scars on them. An invisible one that could only be healed with time and space.
“Please,” Lockwood begs, seeming on the verge of tears “Name your price. Anything, please, just say it.”
“What I want you cannot give, Anthony.” She answers with a bitter smile “Because if you could, I know you would have given it to me years ago.”
“Just name it, please. Do you want a rise? Do you want to switch rooms? Do you want your name to be the agency's name? Because I can do that. We can just change the company's name to yours.”
A tear escapes her eyes. She knows that he was being genuine, that he was willing to give up anything to make her stay. But even with all he offers to give, Lockwood still couldn't see the one thing she desires of him.
And it's crystal clear to her now that he could never give the one thing she needs of him.
Placing her hands to his cheeks, she cups him gently and smiles, “You're going to be a brilliant agent, Anthony. Lockwood & co will be the best agency there is, I know it. I believe it.”
“Then why are you leaving?” He asks with a defeated tone “Why won't you be here with me?”
Because you won't love me the way I love you, she thought.
“Please,” Lockwood pleads “I can't lose you too.”
Pulling him for a hug, his dam finally breaks as sobs begin to echo in the room. He holds her tight, afraid that she would disappear if he loosens his embrace just a little. He would miss the sweet scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body when he needed some comfort after a terrible nightmare, and her joyful laughter that always seemed to drunken him in bliss.
If only he would tell her exactly how he feels.
“You'll never lose me, Anthony.” She whispers to his chest, listening to his heartbeat before they part “I'm yours, always.”
↠ If You’re Going to Break My Heart
#anthony lockwood#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood x you#anthony lockwood x y/n#anthony lockwood angst#anthony lockwood imagine#anthony lockwood scenario#anthony lockwood fanfic#anthony lockwood fanfiction#anthony lockwood oneshot#lockwood and co#lockwood & co
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Buggy & The Roger Pirates Thing (maybe even a little Corabug!?)
Buggy always feeing like he doesn’t belong on Rogers crew. Like he was just brought on to be a playmate for Shanks (practically a pet). He’s not entirely wrong either most of the crew shows unintentional favoritism to Shanks and don’t really remember that Buggy’s there half the time.
The next island they visit they actually forget Buggy. Buggy himself doesn’t even realize until hours later, Roger Pirates far away and still unaware of their mistake. Buggy’s devastated, he kinda wanders around the islands small town and into its forest in shock and despair before coming upon a familiar face. A blond marine who he’d met in the town earlier who was now running through the woods. They had a good conversation earlier and all Buggy had really learned was the boys name. Rosinante.
Rosinante takes Buggy back to Sengoku who goes “WAIT A MINUTE” and then declares that Buggy’s been taken in for ransom. Buggy tells them that nobody is going to come for him.
They wait a couple days, then a week, then a couple weeks, finally two whole months go by and nobody’s showed up for Buggy. Sengoku is disturbed by this and does some digging. Apparently a vote to retrieve Buggy was placed and the majority thought it was too much work for the second cabin boy (the add on, the spare, the unpromising backup). There was also info that Roger and the losing side were upset with the polling results but weren’t going to do much about it.
Sengoku decides right there and then he’s gonna see why Roger let Buggy onto his crew in the first place and why they don’t want Buggy back.
And…..
Sengoku has no clue why they wouldn’t want Buggy to return to them. He’s crafty, smart, loyal. He’s a good kid by pirate standards. Clearly a trouble maker but the passion he has for chemistry and science is unmatched. The way he solves puzzles and can worm his way out of any situation socially is insane. His treatment of people around him and of Cora himself (even if it’s special treatment😉) is admirable. Not to mention the boys luck.
Sengoku suspect it’s cause of Buggy’s less upfront way of fighting and actually assessing situations is what put The Rogers off. Buggy may be cowardly but if he really is needed he’ll do his part. Plus his long range weapons (bombs, altered guns) are nothing to sneeze at.
Buggy ends up staying with the marines for a really long time even if in the beginning he said he was going to escape and get far far away from them. Instead staying, training and getting stronger.
Decades later Red Haired Shanks comes face to face with a marine with long blue hair and the nickname Ringmaster.
Okay first of all thank you for writing this.
now right now I’m crying because that’s just fucking sad.
them leaving buggy there and how they decided is disgusting and I’m literally devastated. Poor buggy wanna hug him so bad.
For me Roger here failed as the captain bc who tf cares what the crew thinks. He is the captain and he should have been defending Buggy but he didn’t. In here Ace was right Roger was a monster bc left a child who looked up to him like no one else ever did in a town from nowhere behind. I wonder how shanks reacted.
I kinda wished that- I don’t know if you watched the LA but there Garp is on the Plattform where Roger gets killed. I wish that buggy would arrive the Plattform when Roger finished his speech him thinking he will die with no regrets and with starting the new era but the moment he saw buggy his smile vanished and he knew he could no longer die at peace.
I have two things in mind of what buggy could say
He would smile at roger with a trembling body saying something like: “I hoped you lived a good live “captain”
or
2. He would be cold and saying shit like: “That’s it Gol D. Roger. You and your loved one will pay for your crimes” and he would mean it bc with people who believe in him he would get stronger and have more determination
I’m kinda surprised that Sengoku would take with if we think about what he did to Ace considering that wanted to execute him for being roger son not being the second commander of Whitebeard who was equal to roger. But I do not complain. If I think about it Buggy could be trained by Sengoku and Garp and Tsuru. Sengoku and Garp were also equal to roger. And while Sengoku could teach him to be smarter fight smarter, Garp could train him in strength combat and haki. Tsuru could help him to calm himself down and always keep his cool. So he could be powerful yonko level bc that what actually oda said. If Buggy would take effort he would be yonko level.
You know what a sad part of this is Buggy is the kind of character who gets treated bad by the “good” ones (in here the goal of the main character) but he would not get justice. He would die and maybe the others would regret it but probably not the same episode one person would say “he would want that you hate yourself…” like BITCH OFC HE WOULDNT BUT YOU SHOULD BC YOU DESERVE THAT.
anyways I’m getting of the topic I think Buggy is smart and a sweetheart if you treat him well. He maybe loves treasure in an unhealthy amount and can be a little arrogant but it’s like he is be mean but still would do everything for you if you treat him right. (I also believe that he would not have a pride problem to apologize if he did something wrong but that another thing).
again with the Plattform (I hope it’s Plattform English is not my native’s language) the thing is Shanks would see it. And I think no matter if choice one or two you choose he would be angry…even though he has no right too. But Buggy doesn’t care about shanks…well not anymore bc he has Rosi. While he hadn’t a bad relationship with Shanks his relationship with Rosi is much better. Shanks if not meant to be mean only teased him which lead to the whole crew teasing him and Buggy didn’t like that. I mean I don’t think he had a problem with some teasing bc that normal and fun you know? Everyone does that but they teased him about everything and it kinda hurt bc it gave off the feeling he wasn’t taking seriously at all. That he couldn’t be allowed to be sad or scared…genuinely.
With Rosi it wasn’t like that he got comforted motivated. Instea if being told that “a pirate isn’t allowed to be scared” or “are you hiding again” or “you wouldn’t be scared if you trained harder like shanks” he gets “it’s fine I protect you” or “don’t be scared buggy! Your strong and if anything happens I’m right here” and it helps bc it motivates him and them saying that they believe he is strong wants him to prove that and he doesn’t and he makes mistakes and learns from them and gets better bc that how it should be done
So if Buggy and Shanks would meet after decades Shanks would be furious at Buggy for doing this to their captain. But with just a few sentences Shanks anger turned into guilt
“Roger didn’t want me. He left me and abandoned me. No one wanted me”
So I think Shanks would withdraw and just go with it. But now he would feel emptier. It was one thing not having seen buggy and him officially cutting of the relationship was hard for Shanks but he shouldn’t complain he didn’t say anything when they voted to leave him even if he didn’t want that he could do more. Bc they would listen to him.
Buggy himself would live a good life being a very much known marine (vice admiral) having Rosi by his side (this is a Corazon lives AU) and be happy.
I even think that Luffy would be on Buggy’s side if he heard that story. But still would not stop being a pirate
#one piece#buggy#buggy the clown#op buggy#shanks#buggy x corazon#corazon#donquixote “corazon” rosinante#sengoku the buddha#monkey d. luffy#monkey d garp#buggy deserves better#gol d roger#roger pirates#the roger pirates are dicks#shanks is not bad but naive#buggy and his luck
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So like this isn't specific but what about certain stoic genshin men with a reader whoa incredibly bubbly and happy all the time.
"Someone is going to die."
"Of fun!"
Yk?
sorry for not doing anything the past week and two (haha two.)
(FUTURE ME BY LIKE 2 MINS I FORGOT THE ✅/⭐️ Your prayer is accepted friendo) (other two in progresss.)
I was going to animate the “Hey Two!” Video bc I am a fan of bfdi. (Have been ever since I was little!)
But don’t worry everything will be out today and tomorrow! (Most likely.)
if you follow me on wattpad you would’ve saw the post I put 3 days ago most likely. There’s also 6 options for me to animate on there! Feel free to look at my acc and vote. (You can also vote for one by sending a message.)
Also holy so many frames 😭
I forgot Diluc existed sorry :d
cough cough Two worlds one heart next part tomorrow cough cough (aka part 4)
*cough cough ignore that it’s coming Friday bc I forgot about picture taking cough cough*
Stoic x Bubbly
(Alhaitham, Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno (in work mode) Tighnari (He’s stoic when he’s working like Cyno) I forgot Diluc existed mb.
And my limit for requests is 4 and I decided to add Tighnari bc I realized it. (No more than 4) (No part two. Sorry for those who thought Diluc would be here :d)
under cut r the stories. : D
Alhaitham
“Alhaitham” you said as he read his book forgetting about the noise canceling stuff he had. You continued to call out his name as kaveh watched. Softly laughing at you.
Alhaitham sent a glare towards kaveh and his gaze went back towards his book. “Alhaitham isn’t fun.” He pouted as you nodded. Eventually leaving his side to go outside with kaveh. Trying to bait him into becoming more fun.
“Kaveh I don’t think this will work.” “It might but prob not.” He replied as you both waited. He didn’t come out soon and you both came up with another idea. “We should make him mad about something…”
“Like Tighnari at cynos jokes?” “Exactly. I know you make him mad but maybe it should be something about knowledge?” “Wh-hey!” He bonked you on the head as you hit him lightly. “You do have a point though.” Kaveh said afterwards.
“Where would we find a dummy in all of sumeru?” You asked knowing majority of sumeru are smart fellows.
“We just need to get lucky.” “Maybe you should try make him mad again.” “Whyyy?!” “Because you make him mad numbskull!” Hitting him again lightly as he thought about it.
“I heard you two were trying to make me mad?” You both jumped slightly as both of you turned your head to see Alhaitham. Both of you becoming nervous by the second.
“I uhhmm.” You said trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t sound stupid to him. His gaze turned to kaveh shortly after.
“Well I accept your challenge.” “Wait what?!”
“Someone is going to die.” Both of you panicked becoming more confused.
“Of fun?” You thought out loud as he nodded. Both of you partying slightly. Finally doing something other than work and reading.
Xiao (During lantern rite)
“Xiao!” You called as he appeared by your side. Sitting at a table with Zhongli and a few adepti. His eyes widened in surprise as he quickly composed himself and sat next to Zhongli.
Playing a few games to pass the time after having lunch with everyone. Xiao managed to smile and become more happier.
When it was time to play tag (yes tag.) he was not like his usual self but still tried.
“Someone is going to die.” He said as a joke. Watching people be tagged from a distance.
He though someone might fall and trip.
“Of fun!” You said afterwards. Tagging yaoyao as you ran away. Watching her touch xiao as she ran. He was caught off guard and teleported to someone randomly touching cloud retainer.
“Why must one be touched for a silly game?” She said as she used her beak to touch mountain shaper. He stayed silent and ran after Moon carver.
Xiao returned to yours and Zhongli s side as you started to lose the adrenaline in your heart. Drinking water as you watched them all finish.
Wanderer
(HAHHAHAHAHHAHA MY SISTER LOST HER 50/50 TO MONAAA) (I have won none of my 50/50s *crying* (I’m serious all 5 that I had I LOST, 3 to qiqi once to Mona and once to jean. Keqing was on standard)
He watched you come inside not expecting you to be crying. He rushed to your side and asked why and who (or what) caused it.
“Someone almost poisoned me…” You told him. “And do you know who? I’ll gladly make them cry louder than you and regret their life.” (Get it?????? I’m not funny :D) “what-?” “Nothing.”
“Someone is going to die today Y/N. Just tell me their name.” “Of fun right wanderer…?” It stayed silent for a few moments as you became more nervous then sad.
“Of fun right?” You asked again clasping your hands together worrying for the person who did it to you. “Let’s put it that way…” he said as he asked you. Looking for that individual after he spent some time with you.
He was always so interested in how you were always trying to see positive sides of anything. He has witnessed cruel and unjust acts and behavior.
Cyno
“Do you wanna pull a prank on them?” Someone asked gesturing to you. “Dude are you crazy?? Almost anyone and you choose them??!” They said calming down as they drank their water after the spat it out.
“What’s wrong with them?” They asked kind of nervous of them freaking out. “That’s the General Mahamatras Partner! AKA Cyno.” Cyno listened closely as he strained his ears. Behind a wall as you talked to a friend. Unknowingly cyno was going to pull a prank on them in return.
“Pssht! He’s prob on a mission it’s not like he’s hearing us right now.” “I guess you’re right but be careful.” They replied as they began to talk. Cynos prank wasn’t going to be good but it would jump them. That’s how pranks are.
They pulled the prank and scare you from behind. Telling how they got you good. Before you smirked and stocked your tongue out. Cyno was right behind them with his usual cold gaze and activated spirit. (Basically his idol animation, the one with the polearm)
“Someone will perish for their actions against Y/N.” They both froze up and turned slightly scared and worried. “Of fun!” You perked in. They both got caught off guard as cyno laughed off the joke before giving both of them a slight cut on their bodies.
“Run.” You suggested as cyno chased them away. Coming back toward you after he had his fun. “That’s fun to you? Chasing innocent beings cyno?” You asked jokingly. “Yes. Think of it as tag but it doesn’t end as quickly as tag does.”
“Fair enough.”
Tighnari
“I swear I am going insane if one more person consumes a fungi that’s poisonous or has dangerous side effects.” Tighnari stated as you tried to calm the agitated fennec down.
“Nari it will be okay. On the bright side it teaches not too and can help you improve on your methods of healing them.” You watched as his ears and tail perked up slightly motivated him. His tail wagged slowly as he stopped his rant.
“Someone will die.” He said and caught you off guard. “What-?! Of fun I hope!” You said as he nodded. “I’m going insane I need some days offff.” He told you as he buried his face into the pillow on the couch.
“Don’t worry the others can take at least 2 or 3 days off I’m sure of it!” You played with his ears as he felt calmer. “Thank you…” He got up and sat next to you. Waiting for your hand. You placed it on his head as he melted into your touch. His tail swishing ecstatically. Finally getting a well deserved break.
You scratched behind his ears as he spoke. “I really needed this.” Beginning to become sleepy due to the amount of comfort. Soon after you heard light snores.
Laughing to yourself as you got up and gave him a blanket. Going to go help the others with their tasks and to tell them what would be planned.
(I need a two plush. Omg it looks amazing. My birthday is in November tho 😭)
#genshin impact x reader#tighnari#genshin impact#tighnari x reader#genshin tighnari#tighnari x you#Alhaitham x you#alhaitham x reader#genshin alhaitham#xiao x reader#xiao x you#genshin xiao#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#cyno x reader#cyno x you#cyno genshin impact#wanderer x reader#wanderer x you#wanderer x y/n#wanderer genshin
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[ 김규빈 ] ONE & ONLY ꒰ K.GV x F!READER
IN WHICH ✶ — Rumors about Y/n pursuing a Zerobaseone member backstage at music bank start floating around the media after she and ZB1 member, Kim Gyuvin are seen talking behind in one of the episodes of ‘Eunchaes Star Diary’. Some netizens believe it and some don’t, some hated her for touching his shoulder and some didn’t care. Y/n went live to debunk the rumors, saying she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the time. The thing was, the rumors were true. She secretly was pursing Kim Gyuvin, or at least she wanted to. Ever since she first saw him backstage at M Countdown when ‘Love Killa’ team got to perform she was starstruck. She saw him at the vending machine and wished him luck in ‘Boys Planet’. She actually never had watched an episode of the survival show at all, she said it would be too painful for her, but that was the night she started to watch and most importantly, vote for Kim Gyuvin.
#BOYCOTTJUNHYEON | profile three.
﹙★﹚DESCRIPTIONS…
park chaewon (gowon) ; started #BoycottJunhyeon bc he was caught listening to loona unboycotted ver. but only bc he wasn’t aware of the lawsuit bc he didn’t have his phone during boys planet 😭 they bicker a lot (everyone bickers w/ junhyeon) but they do get along well.
kim jungeun (kim lip) ; literslly ricky’s mother bro. saw all the jokes about everyone calling ricky him lip and absolutely died laughed. she’s never talked to him before but wants to at least meet him one day, she probably will through junhyeon.
ju haknyeon ; y/n’s older brother from tbz!!!!!!! he and y/n both have pigs who are siblings bc their mother currently owns a pig farm by herself. the two are extremely close although they bicker a lot. they often visit the pig farm together.
hwang intak ; finally download twitter js to tell elon musk to count his days. and then he realized that his account wasn’t private. y/n is his senior and a year older than her, sometimes he forgets that she’s his senior and almost forgot to say sunbaenim countless of times on live 😭.
moon jaeyun ; friends with matthew, the two trained together before jaeyun debuted in 8turn and matthew went to boys planet. y/n and the others often call him by his birth name Alex 😭.
kum junhyeon ; a redstart trainee who was on boys planet! him and taerae are close and still keep in touch, he does with all the zb1 members but mostly him and gunwook! swears everyone is against him and is praying on his downfall.
m.list — previous — chap one
taglist (open) 𓏸 ͘ ࣭⸰ @yeosljin @whoschr @str0l0gy @sieuneo @enhaz1 @weoris @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @jiawji @trsrina @esc6pism @tmrx2gther @jiaant11 @latriii @annoyingbitch83 @pwarkj @sleepingisweak @beomibeom
#zb1 x reader#zb1 imagines#zb1 smau#zb1 fluff#zb1 scenarios#zb1 gyuvin#zb1 oneshots#zerobaseone gyuvin#zerobaseone fluff#zerobaseone smau#zerobaseone social media au#zerobaseone scenarios#zerobaseone x reader#gyuvin x reader#gyuvin scenarios#gyuvin imagines#gyuvin fluff#kim gyuvin#gyuvin drabbles
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Marital Aid Ch. 1
Clea uses hypnosis to liberate her boss, Isabella, from a failing marriage… and awaken her to the life as a kinky lesbian
This story was a commission from one of my patrons! Thank you very much to Myles_EXVS for their kind support
If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)
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“Clea?” The sound of Bruna’s voice brought Clea back to herself. “You’re supposed to be spotting for me, babe.”
“Right.” Clea shook her head, blushing a little. “Sorry.”
“Hold on.”
Bruna strained and groaned as she lifted the monstrously heavy bar up over her head and placed it back onto the rack. She sat up on the exercise bench, and Clea apologetically offered her a sweat towel to wipe her forehead off with. Clea was a little jealous of just how good her friend looked when she was working out; Bruna had the kind of muscular figure that made other girls drool, and her deep brown, Brazilian skin always glistened appealingly when she was flushed and sweating from exertion. Clea couldn’t relate.
“OK,” Bruna said, after taking a swig of water. “What’s on your mind? Out with it.”
Clea sighed and sat down on the bench next to her. Unfortunately, Bruna knew her too well. The two of them had been gym buddies for a long time, and friends for longer.
“It’s…” Clea didn’t know where to begin. It was far too embarrassing.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Bruna asked sympathetically.
“Yeah.” Clea planted her head in her hands. “Yeah. It is.”
She didn’t need to explain who ‘her’ was. They both knew.
Isabella.
“Oh, girl.” Bruna threw one of her big, strong arms across Clea’s shoulder. “You’re down seriously bad.”
Clea groaned and leaned in. She didn’t need Bruna to tell her that. Isabella consumed her every waking thought. The reason she’d been zoning out when she was supposed to be spotting for Bruna was because she’d been caught up in picturing Isabella’s smiling face. She’d reached schoolgirl levels of hopeless infatuation.
And there were two massive problems with it.
Firstly, Isabella was her boss. Clea was pretty sure that falling in love with the woman she worked for wasn’t part of a personal secretary’s job description. Workplace romances like that never worked out, and she was sure Isabella was too much of a stickler to ever consider it. There was also an accompanying age gap - Clea was in her mid-twenties while Isabella was in her thirties. That didn’t bother her so much, especially since Clea had such a fondness for older women, but it was yet another obstacle.
The second, much bigger problem was that Isabella was both straight and married.
“Falling for a straight girl.” Clea sighed again, heavier. “She’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I wish I could just forget about all these feelings and move on. It’s so hard, having to be near her, day after day, never being able to act on them.”
“I bet,” Bruna said soothingly. She reached up and started stroking Clea’s long, red hair.
“And the worst part is seeing that she’s not happy!” Clea vented. “Her pig of a husband makes her miserable, I can just tell. Why couldn’t it be me instead? I’d treat her the way she deserves. I’d treat her like a queen.”
“I know you would,” Bruna assured her. She paused for a moment and then turned to look closely at Clea, a cunning smile on her face. “You know, babe, you do have a way of making that happen.”
Clea threw a sharp look up at her. “I don’t even know if it works.”
“Oh, it works,” Bruna told her, grinning. “I was going to tell you afterward. I tested it very thoroughly. I have all the data you said you’d need to make the final calibrations.”
“Yeah, I bet you were thorough,” Clea snorted. “I heard a few rumors about what you’ve been up to with that heiress girl.”
“Now, now. I don’t kiss and tell.” Bruna’s grin took on a cocky, swaggering quality. Clea’s friend loved to kiss and tell. “Anyway, the point is: it’s amazing! I can’t believe my friend knows how to mind-control people. It’s like you’re a supervillain or something.”
At that, Clea laughed. “It’s just a hobby,” she retorted. “I’ve always liked audio mixing and video editing. It started with music videos, but then I got really curious about how different kinds of sounds and different frequencies can affect the human mind. And, uh, I guess one thing lead to another.”
The ‘another’, in this case, was a suite of software and a set of techniques that allowed her to create audio and video files that had a potent, hypnotic effect on the listener. Clea could almost literally reprogram them with whatever commands she chose - at least, within reason and with enough exposure. Clea objected to the idea that she was some kind of supervillain, but admittedly, the description wasn’t too far off.
“So,” Bruna pressed, “why not put all that work to good use?”
“You mean… with Isabella?” Clea frowned. “No. In fact, I don’t even want that experimental data. I don’t want to think about it.”
"Why not? Just think about it! No more yearning, no more heartache. You could have her.”
Clea felt a definite, stirring pang, but looked away. “It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is,” Bruna countered.
“I-it wouldn’t be right.”
“From what you said about her husband, it sounds like she’d be happier with you,” Bruna pointed out. “Why not think of it as giving her a little push towards a happy ending? You can’t tell me that’s not part of what this was all for. The testing. Your little hobby.”
“It just…” Clea stood up, shrugging off Bruna’s arm, and started to pace. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right. Not with her.”
“Why not?” Bruna asked again, a touch exasperated.
“Because I care about her, Bruna,” Clea replied. “She’s not just a pretty girl I’m looking to get into bed. It’s more than that. I want her to be happy.”
“You could make her happy,” Bruna pointed out. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“Maybe she’s happy right now,” Clea shot back. “Maybe that’s why she’s still with him. I don’t know. That’s the point. I can’t just decide that for her. What if I’m wrong? What if I make it worse?”
“Wow, babe,” Bruna said, raising an eyebrow. “You really are down bad.”
Clea sank back down miserably onto the bench. “Yeah. I know.”
Bruna squeezed her shoulder. “Well, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said. “We’re going to keep working out until you’re so exhausted you can barely think. Then we’re gonna go back to my bar and get drunk until you definitely can’t think. Sound good?”
“God yes,” Clea sighed.
“Atta girl.” Clea stood up, allowing Bruna to lie back down along the exercise bench, and rest her hands back on the barbell. As she did, she threw Clea one last look. “But just remember: you ever change your mind, and the data’s yours. Just give me a call.”
***
The next evening, Clea’s head was still throbbing from the hangover. Bruna drank hard, and her bar was well-stocked. The headache was a welcome pain. A welcome distraction. To take her mind off of it, and off of everything else, she was preparing a nice, big pot of stew. It would take the edge off her hangover, and give her some welcome nourishment for the week to come. The stew was still simmering on her stovetop, however, when Clea found herself much, much more distracted by a message she’d just received.
Can I come over?
It was from Isabella.
Clea’s boss, the woman she was hopelessly head-over-heels for, had just texted her on a Sunday evening to ask to come over to her apartment. Maybe she should have replied with ‘no’, or ‘I’m busy, sorry’. Maybe she should even have left her on read. There were reasons to. Refusing would have helped maintain professional boundaries, and would have helped Clea stop torturing herself about a doomed romance.
Instead, she had replied ‘yes’ right away.
And now, as she waited for Isabella to arrive, Clea was left with nothing to do but watch her stew simmer and wonder about what, exactly, had happened. She and Isabella had a friendly and warm relationship at work, to be sure. Sometimes they even confided in one another a little - that was how Clea had caught a hint of her marital issues. But suddenly dropping in to visit Clea at her apartment? That was completely unprecedented.
Clea desperately wanted to know why. But with Isabella already on her way, there was nothing for her to do except keep pacing back and forward across her kitchen restlessly, wondering, trying to stop herself from giving in to needless speculation or fruitless hope. Occasionally, she couldn’t help dashing over to the mirror in her bathroom to make sure that she looked presentable. Part of her wanted to put on some makeup, but the knowledge that she’d look like she’d gotten all dolled up on a Sunday night just to stay home and cook held her back.
Eventually, mercifully, the buzzer for her apartment rang.
Clea rushed down and opened the door as quickly as she could, and let out a mourning gasp when she laid eyes on her boss.
Isabella had been crying. That much was obvious from the way her eyes were red from tears and wide with worry. It pained Clea to see her beauty marred by such sadness. She was still beautiful, though. Clea was struck by that every single time she saw her boss.
Isabella Chase was aging more than gracefully into her thirties. Put simply, she had a figure to die for, and looked just as killer in the t-shirt and jeans she was currently wearing as she did in the smart, well-tailored business wear Clea was used to seeing on her. She had a slender, pretty face, with high, arched, sharp cheekbones that somehow became rounded and full when she laughed and smiled, lighting up her whole face. Her short, black, shoulder-length hair framed her features perfectly, and her tanned, brown skin took on a thousand tones in a different light. Clea never got tired of looking at her. She just hoped her boss hadn’t noticed the way she stared. Especially since Isabella did know that Clea was a lesbian.
“Hey,” Clea said awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”
As soon as she saw Clea, Isabella sagged. “I’m sorry,” she said heavily. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“What? No!” Clea replied urgently. “Don’t say that. You’re more than welcome.”
Isabella just sniffled and shook her head miserably. “It’s not appropriate. I’m your boss. You shouldn’t have to…”
“Just come in.” Clea reached out and touched Isabella on the shoulder, lightly. “Please?”
Isabella nodded, just as miserably, but allowed Clea to guide her inside and upstairs into her apartment. Once there, Clea immediately set to fussing over her boss. She got her seated comfortably on the couch, and then went to make tea for the both of them. When she returned, two steaming mugs in hand, she sat down next to Isabella. A worried frown was carving lines into her face.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Isabella repeated, although she seemed more settled than before. “I’m your boss. You put up with me enough at work.”
“Nonsense,” Clea told her firmly. “You put up with me just as much. We can call it even.”
That made Isabella smile, which made Clea smile.
“I just didn’t know where else to go, I suppose,” Isabella explained apologetically, sipping tentatively at her tea. “I guess I didn’t really want my friends to see me like this. So I just started driving around, and then I was in the neighborhood, and I remembered your address, and… well, you’re just so easy to talk to, at work. So I just…”
“I’m glad you did,” Clea said. “Really. It’s not an imposition. But you do have to tell me what’s going on. That’s the only condition.”
Isabella laughed, sniffled again, and nodded. “Well, it’s… it’s him. Again. Robert. My husband.”
A furious shiver raced down Clea’s spine. It was just as she’d suspected. Her husband was the only thing she’d ever seen get anything close to this far under Isabella’s skin.
“What did he do now?” Clea’s voice approached a growl.
“He didn’t…” Isabella started to say in instinctive defensiveness, before sagging again. “It’s not like that, exactly. We just had another fight.”
“I see,” Clea said tersely.
“I want kids,” Isabella said. Now that she was unburdening herself, it came out easy. She wasn’t looking at the expression on Clea’s face. “I want a family. I do. And I thought he wanted that too. I mean, we always said… but now I don’t know. Every time I try to talk to him about it, he gets so…”
Clea worried for all the unspoken things she could hear in Isabella’s voice. “Do you mean…”
“No,” Isabella told her. “Not like that. But he gets so closed off about it. So short-tempered. It’s like… it’s like me, and what I want, are just annoyances to him. You know?”
“Yeah.” Clea had to fight not to grind her teeth. “I know what you mean.”
“It’s at the point where I just don’t know what to do,” Isabella went on. “I just assumed we’d work on it, over time, together, but it’s starting to seem like it isn’t going to get better. I don’t know what to do anymore. Today, when I tried to talk to him, we ended up arguing. And when he started yelling at me, I just… I had to get out of there, Clea.”
“Get out of there?” Hope, tinged by guilt, started to swell in Clea’s bosom. “Like-”
“I mean, how am I supposed to go back to him now, after running out like that?” The words kept flowing out of Isabella. She was starting to tear up again. “Sometimes I feel like I just can’t take it anymore.”
Clea paused for a long moment to gather her courage before saying: “Maybe… you don’t have to. Go back, I mean.”
Isabella looked up at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re better than him, Isabella!” Clea cried. “It’s obvious. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, you work hard and support yourself and others. If you want a family, you deserve one. You deserve someone who wants to have that with you.”
Her boss let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. “That’s… a nice thought, Clea.”
“I’m serious!” Clea insisted fiercely. “I know it’s a cliche, but there are so many other people out there who could make you happy. You shouldn’t have to devote your life to someone who doesn’t even care enough to talk to you about what you want!”
“It’s not that easy.” Isabella seemed to tense up. “I can’t just walk out on him like that.”
“Why not?” Clea couldn’t bring herself to hold back now. “You don’t need him, Isabella. And you said so yourself - it seems like it isn’t going to get better. So what are you staying with him for?”
“I… I guess I don’t really have a good answer to that,” Isabella admitted. “But I do know one thing. I’m not a quitter. That’s how I’ve made it this far, right?”
“Isabella…” Clea slumped back against the couch cushion, defeated. She could hear the resolve in her boss’s voice, and she recognized all too well the kind of self-defeating logic Isabella was trapping herself in.
“Maybe it’s a little silly,” Isabella said, smiling sadly to herself. “But I really meant all those things I said at the altar. The promises. In sickness and in health, stuff like that. I… I know you mean well, Clea. I just think I need to see this through properly.”
There was nothing for Clea to do but look down and sigh. “I understand,” she said, even though she didn’t.
It took all the strength she had not to blurt out that it should have been her. That she was the one who could make Isabella happy that way. That she would be overjoyed to give Isabella the family her husband wouldn’t.
But of course, her words would have fallen on deaf ears. Isabella was straight, and that was that.
Before Clea knew it, the two of them had lapsed into uncomfortable silence. The only sound in the apartment was the occasional noise of each of them sipping at their tea. Clea knew she had to fix it.
“Hey,” she said abruptly, planting as bright a smile as she could muster on her face. “Well, if you want to stay here, just for tonight, you’d be more than welcome. I mean it. We can have a girls’ night. This couch folds out, and it’s actually not as bad as it-“
The sound of Isabella’s phone lighting up with a text message interrupted her.
Her boss snatched at her phone like a drowning woman at a life ring. The expression of manic, desperate hope on her face as she read the message tore Clea’s heart in two, and immeasurable dread washed over her. She knew exactly what was happening.
“Thank you,” Isabella said to Clea, already gathering herself. “That’s such a kind offer. B-but I need to go now, actually.” She gestured to her phone. “He’s worried about me, and he wants to talk.”
She was smiling as she said it, although Clea knew even Isabella didn’t really believe in whatever platitudes her husband was offering. She was just forcing herself to, because it was the only way she could keep going. Isabella’s smile was as fragile as glass, and Clea couldn’t bring herself to be the one that broke it.
“Sure.” Clea desperately hoped her own smile didn’t look too fake or forced. “Of course. I understand. And, anytime. I promise.”
She walked Isabella out of the building and the two of them said their goodbyes. But the whole time, Clea could only think about how disgustingly false this all was. She’d met Isabella’s husband two or three times, at various work-related social functions. She knew what a boor he was. She knew he wasn’t going to change. But, clearly, he was willing to keep stringing Isabella along with false hope and false kindnesses until it ground her into dust.
Dwelling on it left a pit of nausea in Clea’s stomach. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Isabella.
And there was something she could do about it.
Once Clea got back up to her apartment, she reached for her phone and messaged Bruna.
I need the data.
***
The next morning, it took Clea quite some time to gather her courage before she could bring herself to head into Isabella’s office and bring her boss her morning coffee. Her anxiety was twofold. First, she was afraid that the atmosphere between them would be heavy with the weight of what had happened the day before; with Isabella’s unexpected vulnerability, and Clea’s unwelcome advice. And second, she was afraid that Isabella would see how nervous she was, and somehow sense what she was about to do.
Her first fear, at least, was dispelled from the first moment she knocked and pushed open the door. Isabella was already behind her desk, hard at work, but she rose to greet Clea with a broad grin.
“Clea! Good morning,” she gushed. “Oh, is that my latte? I seriously need it.”
“Of course,” Clea replied. “Same as ever.”
She placed the cup holder on Isabella’s desk, but she must have seemed a touch awkward because Isabella quickly reached out for her hand.
“Hey, um,” Isabella began, “I wanted to say, about yesterday… I’m sorry. Not for turning up - you made it clear that you were happy to help, and I appreciate that a lot. You’re amazing, honestly. The best secretary I could ever ask for.”
Clea’s cheeks started to burn and glow from the praise.
“Instead, I’m sorry for putting you square in the middle of my marital, uh, issues,” Isabella said. “I’m sure that was really, really awkward.”
“No,” Clea replied. “Um, actually, I’m glad you felt like you could confide in me. And… actually, I’m sorry too. I went way too far.”
“Nonsense,” Isabella told her firmly, smiling. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. To be honest, the advice you gave is exactly what I’d probably give to any of my friends if they were in the same position.”
That acknowledgment brought forth another heavy sigh that piqued Clea’s curiosity.
“May… I ask how it went?” Clea ventured cautiously.
“Good.” Isabella nodded firmly. “At least, I think it was good. We talked, and maybe we didn’t fix our problems yet, but we’re going to keep talking. What more can you ask for, right?”
She was trying to sound brave and sure, and it almost worked. Almost. But Clea knew her boss better than most. Better than her own husband, she’d guess. She saw Isabella every single day at work, and she knew when she was merely putting a brave face on something.
Looking deeper, Clea could see the signs. Under her eyes, she was using a little too much makeup to try and conceal some dark circles. Her eyes themselves were still tinged red. Her hair was a little messier and less lustrous than usual; probably, she’d gone to bed without doing her routine. And, most tellingly of all, her shoulders were sagged slightly in exhaustion and defeat, the way they only usually were on a Friday evening after a truly hellish week.
She wasn’t OK. It hadn’t been good. And that meant there was no reason at all for Clea to hold back.
“Well,” Clea began, “I was thinking, last night. And I have something that I think might help you a little.”
Isabella’s head tilted dubiously.
“Not with the, uh, issues,” Clea added hastily. “Just with how it all feels. It’s something for self-care.”
“Oh!” Isabella brightened immediately. “Clea, that’s so thoughtful.”
Clea had to look away for a moment. “Don’t mention it.”
“So?” Isabella asked eagerly. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense!”
Clea swallowed anxiously. This was it.
“This might sound a little weird,” she said, “but I have these… experimental music videos. They’re meant to help you relax. Think of it like… like meditation. Making them is kind of a hobby of mine, actually. I know it’s a little silly, but some people have said they’re really helpful. So, I made one for you.”
She blushed as she said that. Even the half-truth was embarrassing. Isabella, though, looked overjoyed.
“You did?” she exclaimed. “Oh my god, Clea! Thank you, that’s so thoughtful.”
Clea blushed again. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Of course I do,” Isabella replied. “I’ve never really tried meditation before, but you’re certainly right to think that I could use something to help me relax a little. I’d love to give it a try.”
“Great!” Clea’s relief was immeasurable, and she found herself grinning from ear to ear. She whipped out her phone. “I’ll send you the video right away. You can just listen to it whenever you have a quiet moment. Just… make sure to grab some headphones. And, uh, make sure you won’t be disturbed.”
“Got it!” To Clea’s great surprise, Isabella pulled her into a brief but warm hug. “Clea, you deserve a raise. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Things have been so hard lately. It’s truly…”
“Hey.” Clea squeezed Isabella tight as her boss trailed off. “I know. But, Isabella, I can promise you that things are going to get much, much better for you very soon. I can just feel it.”
Once the two of them pulled apart, Isabella’s eyes were glistening.
“Thank you,” she said. “The way you said that almost makes me believe it.”
Clea and Isabella shared a laugh before Isabella went to sit back down at her desk. Clea took that as her cue.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, retreating out of her boss’s office. “I’ve got your first call for the day lined up in about twenty minutes.”
With that, each of them returned to the humdrum of a normal workday - but the whole time, Clea was burning with anticipation as she thought about what was going to happen once Isabella finally sat down to listen to what Clea had sent her.
***
The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Isabella’s thoughts turned back to Clea’s gift. It had been a long, busy day of work, with no chance for her to take time out to meditate. But now, the office was quiet. Everyone had gone home - even Clea, who seemed to have been lingering for some reason. Isabella figured she was probably worried about her. Clea was such a sweet girl that way.
Isabella really couldn’t blame her for being worried. Not after the way she’d fled to Clea’s apartment the day before. Just thinking about it was still incredibly embarrassing. Clea had been very kind about it, but Isabella was sure her secretary didn’t genuinely want to spend her weekends dealing with her boss’s personal problems.
Hopefully, earlier, when she’d told Clea that things were looking up, she’d sounded convincing enough to put the younger woman at ease.
The truth was… more complicated.
And that, regrettably, was part of why Isabella was staying late at work. It was the perfect excuse to spend a little less time at home.
Isabella sighed to herself. Admitting that, even in her own head, felt humiliating. Where had it all gone so wrong? When she had gotten married, she’d assumed that would be her happy ending. Having kids seemed like the natural next step - they’d even talked about it, briefly, a few times. Now, Robert got mad every time she brought it up. It was like he’d never wanted a family at all.
Another sigh. These thoughts were doing nothing but making Isabella upset again. They certainly weren’t helping her to get any work done, and the only thing worse than staying at the office to work overtime was staying at the office to do nothing except cry.
Which was why Isabella’s thoughts had turned to that relaxation music video Clea had made for her.
What better time to try it than now?
Isabella took a moment to dim the lights and close the blinds on the windows before sitting back in her office chair and pulling up the video file Clea had sent to her. The first frame looked like nothing but an indistinct mess of colors, and Isabella found herself a little skeptical that a simple music video would be able to offer everything Clea had promised. But, determined to give it a proper try, she took a series of long, deep breaths after putting in her earbuds.
“OK, here goes,” she said to herself, and pressed ‘play’.
Immediately, the screen in front of her exploded into dizzying patterns of motion that made Isabella gasp. There was such depth, vividness and beauty to the colors. It immediately drew Isabella in and captivated her, making her eyes pull wide open in an instinctive bid to drink in everything that was on the screen of her computer.
It was so overwhelming, she barely even noticed the sound playing through her earbuds.
It was music, but unlike any other Isabella had heard, and she only considered it to be music at all because of the vaguely harmonic quality of all the strange beats and tones playing in her ears. All of them were low and resonant; she felt them through her whole body, and underneath them was something like whispering, perhaps a voice, perhaps not. Whatever it was, Isabella found herself unable to bring it into focus.
Instead, all of her attention was on the screen. The true pattern formed by the colors was starting to unfold. At first, she thought it was a spiral, pulling inward, but she soon realized it was pushing outward instead, kaleidoscopic, like an ever-unfurling flower, revealing more of itself with each passing moment. Every new color that appeared at the center of the screen was a revelation, but then the whole image would turn, revealing more of itself yet again, along dizzying lines of symmetry.
Isabella couldn’t look away. Not even when her eyes started to ache from staring. She just slumped back into her seat and started to drool. She had been instantly hypnotized.
The music was getting louder, but Isabella didn’t stir, not even when lyrics started to appear inside her head. Not lyrics; mantras. Simple, blunt statements of fact that Isabella couldn’t seem to bring herself to question. They came one after another, layering atop one another, hammering themselves into her head until they felt like her own thoughts, no matter how strange and foreign they were.
They were true. She knew that. She just knew.
You are a lesbian, Isabella.
It was a hard thing to accept. Isabella had never once thought of herself as anything other than straight. She was even married to a man. So… how hadn’t she noticed it sooner? It seemed so hard to square away, and yet she knew she had to.
You don’t like men.
Isabella stirred. That didn’t seem right. She liked her husband, didn’t she? That was why she’d married him. She loved him… or so she’d thought. But she was a lesbian, so that didn’t make sense. And since she was a lesbian, it seemed only natural that she didn’t like men. Isabella reflected on how she’d felt about her husband in recent days. It hadn’t been positive.
Of course. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men.
You cannot orgasm with men.
Isabella blushed faintly, but settled. As unfamiliar as that thought was, it seemed to fit. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men. It made perfect sense that she couldn’t orgasm with men.
Her recent experiences with her husband certainly bore that out, too.
You can only orgasm with women.
Each new mantra, each new truth, was getting easier and easier to accept. They intersected and interlinked, mutually reinforcing one another, forming a net wrapped tight around Isabella’s mind.
Forming a new self. A new identity.
You are attracted to Clea.
Isabella gasped. Clea? She’d never once looked at her secretary in that light. It would be completely and totally unprofessional of her.
And yet…
Now that the thought had crossed her mind, she couldn’t un-think it. Clea was pretty. There was certainly no denying that. She had a lovely figure, and such cute freckles, and her long, gorgeous, red hair was so striking. Anyone would call her attractive.
But Isabella wasn’t just anyone. She was a lesbian. She could only cum with women. So, naturally, it meant more to her. It wasn’t just about acknowledging Clea’s attractiveness. It was about feeling it.
Isabella was definitely attracted to Clea.
You are very attracted to Clea.
The intensity of her newly-discovered attraction more than doubled with the repetition. Suddenly, just thinking about her secretary made Isabella squirm in her chair and sent a thrill-shock of pleasure between her legs. She couldn’t believe an attraction this potent had crept up on her, but maybe it wasn’t surprising, if her lesbianism had too.
It was all but unbearable. How was she going to handle seeing Clea tomorrow? How was she going to not blush and stammer every time she looked at her? The worst part was that Clea was a lesbian too. That made the temptation so much more real.
You can’t resist Clea.
All thoughts of self-control immediately dissolved. Isabella was being washed away by the strength of her new feelings. She couldn’t resist Clea. That thought seemed so sinful. She was Clea’s boss. A level of self-discipline and restraint was absolutely essential in the workplace, but Isabella was starting to doubt she was capable of it.
What did that say about her? What kind of woman was she, to be so hopelessly, irresistibly infatuated by a girl subordinate to her, a girl so much younger than her? It was a shameful thought, but the shame was swept up in her attraction and arousal.
A picture of the new Isabella was starting to emerge. She was a lesbian, she was sexually unsatisfied with her husband, and she was desperately obsessed with her own secretary, Clea Samaras.
The longer she stared at the hypnotic images blaring on her screen, the stronger and stronger Isabella’s new sense of identity became. And there was nothing she could do about it. With her eyes wide, all she could do was sit back, stare, and drool, as the mantra began to repeat over, and over, and over again.
You are a lesbian.
You don’t like men.
You cannot orgasm with men.
You can only orgasm with women.
You are attracted to Clea.
You can’t resist Clea.
You are a lesbian…
---
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